A/N: Uh... sorry? -,- Writer's block and too many horror games. Amnesia anybody?
/shot multiple times for taking so goddamn long to update

Disclaimer: I is dead. Thus I cannot own anything anymore. D:

"I am Ryou Bakura and I have dealt with worse than this."

It hadn't always been his mantra, but when you start getting posessed by a proverbial demon who uses your own hands to murder your own friends, it actually becomes applicable in most cases and therefore very helpful.

So Ryou used it now, the familiar words rolling off his tongue until they meant nothing to him anymore, and it had completely annulled his panic. Because he can't panic; if he panics he loses. And he doesn't have to panic; he is Ryou Bakura and he has dealt with worse. And Ryou Bakura welcomed the return of his rational thought with open arms.

Strategy. Time for strategy. First step - timetables. He could work timetables. Obviously he has an hour to defeat the plan. And ten minutes to put his own counterplan in motion before Yugi showed up and got suspicious. For some reason he didn't want the overly-cheerful hikari to interfere with this strange battle he was fighting.

But before he worried about Yugi messing up things, he needed to worry about what, exactly, he was worried Yugi would mess up. In other words - what was he going to do?

He knew what he wasn't going to do. Sit down, mope until Yugi arrived, pretend like nothing was wrong, and attempt to make that one hour the best one of his life before... whatever Bakura had planned for him. The end, close the book, and go back to bed.

Well. He certainly had 'what not to do in this case' perfected already. Unfortunately what to actually do was going to be just a bit harder.

And this is why you're not going to make it out of this. You're becoming distracted.

Why did Bakura sound like he wanted Ryou to escape?

Why do you sound like you expect me to answer?

Then Ryou would have to figure it out for himself. He'd already made one breakthrough, and no plan was flawless, so he could thwart this one, with a little luc- Okay, best not to mention luck. Nontheless. He could still win.

You can't win a game if you don't know how it's being played.

But he did know how it was being played - at least, he knew a little. How a clock could have anything to do with the real world? That, Ryou would never find out, but he could use it as a constant. Because if one clock had everything to do with him, wouldn't the same properties apply to every clock within a certain radius? Like... his house? After all, Bakura couldn't have been sure exactly what he would break, or how. He just knew it would happen eventually.

(Why he would leave the timing up to Ryou was easily explained: It's not a game if your opponent doesn't have any input.)

"If I broke one clock..." the albino said slowly to himself, "And it affected the timing of the plot... maybe breaking a different clock will alter the timing? Perhaps postpone it?"

But postponing wasn't what he wanted, wasn't good enough. He wanted to stop the timer -

Stop the timer!

The teen sat bolt upright in his chair, almost knocking it back in his haste to get the words out. And he proceded to spit his magic formula out as if it was blazing against the insides of his mouth.

"If I break one clock and it changes time, if I break them all there will be no time left to change! If all the clocks are stopped then the time in this game will too!"

For a single moment, Ryou's world was perfect. He was alive, well, nightmare-less and beautiful. There were angel choirs singing in the background and there was a million-watt smile on his face.

(And then the doorbell rung loudly.)

Reality crashed down onto his shoulders once more.

That'd be Yugi at the door. He'd have to work fast. Yugi would come in, they would talk, and he would take their chat upstairs. When he went back down to get snacks or something, he'd break his stove's timer. Then he'd shut off his computer's clock and take the batteries out of the two electric clocks he had on the wall, saving his watches for last - he needed some way to pace himself.

Taking a moment to thank the gods for breaking his grandfather clock a few weeks earlier, he got up from the wooden table he was sitting at and padded over to the door, fumbling the handle.

Even as he pulled the door open, his mind was only half-focused on the overenthusiastic duelist who was being ushered inside.

If this was a game, then it was his move. And he'd better make the most of it, because he only got the one turn.

One turn, one gamble. May as well throw the dice.

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IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ

There are three endings to this story! The happy ending, the sad ending, and the depressing/slightly horrifying ending. I need you to vote for which ending you'd like to see - but wait. There's a catch: You don't get to know which ending you're asking for. Mwahahaha.

This is how the voting will work:

- Pancake

- Waffle

- French Toast

Pick what food you'd prefer to be eating, right now, over the others, and tell me in a review.

(... I'm hungry.)

Each food has a certain ending tied to it, so that's how I will decide which to use. This way, you can't whine at me when I kill everyone brutally and mercilessly! Thank the Lord for democracy and unwitting pawns!

(Note: Depressing ending has seven chapters, not six.)

I hope you enjoyed, remember to vote, and remember to tell me how I did. All reviewers will get a special mention next chapter, so there's an incentive... yes?

~ Soul