A/N: Few things. OMG I got my 50th review for this story today! I never thought this could be so popular, and therefore I want to thank everybody who have reviewed my story. You make me smile, I luv 'ya. :D Also this story had 666 hits. Call it coincidence, but I call it a sign. No I'm not going to convert Satanism, just saying.
This chapter was kinda hard, because it was my first time killing people. I am such a twisted person that I mostly enjoyed writing this, though I hate violence, and I can't possibly kill anyone in real life. In the summer when I accidentally killed a bug (it flew to my face) I actually stopped and apologized to that poor bug. But on the other hand when in Biology we studied pig's bone, I was the first person pocking it. :D
Disclaimer: Naw :3 (My disclaimers are short...)
Warnings, darling warnings: Even though I don't think I'm that good writing about dead people, please if you feel offended by blood, do not read the killing part. I beg you, don't.
This chapter is dedicated to all my reviewers but especially to my 50th reviewer: AnimeLoverAngel. Here you go honey.
7. Lessons in killing
"Wait!" Yami screamed floating after Bakura. Through the door, if I may add, though he didn't right now care. "Are you saying you're going to kill someone just like that?"
Bakura turned to face Yami.
"Yup," he breathed out a little whistling tone.
Yami blinked.
It was really chilly out here, even though the summer was just around the corner. Yami didn't worry about himself, he wore a warm jacket, but Bakura... Bakura wore only t-shirt, jeans and Ryou's shoes he had stolen from Mutou's hallway, no socks. Still the other yami didn't seem to mind. He didn't shiver even when an unusually cold breeze caught them. Bakura just turned and started walking again. Yami floated beside him.
"What about weapon?" he asked. "You need a weapon to kill."
"Is this your way to talk me out of this?" Bakura asked raising his eyebrows. " I do know few different ways to kill human with bare hands, but as I said before I prefer knives. They are harder to track."
"And sharp," Yami sighed.
"So I need a knife. And what I need I get," Bakura told. "What I do not get I obviously do not need."
"Like my puzzle?" Yami asked sarcastically.
Bakura didn't answer, just turned around the corner. He seemed like he knew where he was going. But this was Bakura, he always looked like he knew. The way he walked, the way he kept his head up high, no matter what. He always seemed to know where he was, where he was going. He was always confident, always proud.
After walking like for ten minutes Bakura stopped in front of a door. It was small one, obviously a back door of some place. Bakura knocked on it.
Soon the door was opened by a woman. She had short blonde hair, and dark blue eyes. A cigarette was placed between her lips. She seemed tired and weary, though she was very young, not more than 25. When she saw Bakura her face immediately brightened.
"Bloodlily!" she exclaimed in joy. " I haven't seen you in centuries! Everybody thought they got you."
Bakura tilted his head, and smirked
"They got me? Don't be ridiculous Violet. They don't have a clue who I really am."
"Where were you then?" asked Violet, flicking his cigarette.
Yami wanted to hear that answer too. Would Bakura lie or not answer?
"Me?" Bakura said. "Daddy said I was too fat and send me to a camp."
Yami raised his eyebrows. Some kind of a code language? Bakura didn't have a dad anymore, as far as Yami knew. Violet just measured Bakura from head to toes, not doubting what Bakura said even for a second.
"You do look thinner," she admitted. "Well then Bloodlily what do you want?"
"Violet dear," Bakura clicked his tongue. "What would I want?"
Violet just smiled.
"Of course just a minute."
Then she turned around and disappeared into the house.
"Bloodlily?" Yami asked, amused. "Why Bloodlily?"
"They call me that, because I'm not like them," Bakura told. "I don't take drugs. Bloodlily, 'cause blood is my drug."
"They, who are they?"
"Violet and the others," Bakura answered shortly.
"How do you know them?" Yami pressed.
Bakura shrugged nonchalantly, staring at the door, with great impatience, and biting his lower lip. Soon the door was opened and Violet handed him knives. There were three of them. Each one had a blade of different size. The smallest was nothing but a mere pocketknife, with a blade about 5 cm long, and the longest had a blade longer than 20 cm. The handles were made of plain wood.
Bakura balanced one of the knives on his finger. Immediately some blood appeared on his pale skin, dripping from under the blade. Bakura removed the knife and gave a nod of approval.
"These will do," he said and put the knives away, licking the blood away from his fingertip.
Violet nodded and smiled.
"You should try the streets near the bridge," She advised. "The place where old Herrington used to hang out. You might have luck there."
"Ok thanks, Violet."
Bakura walked away, taking every turn from memory. Yami, like a loyal ghost, who had someone to haunt, followed him. Violet dropped her finished cigarette to the ground and shut the door behind her.
After like 100 turns Bakura finally stopped. To Yami this street looked like every other they just walked. Narrow and dark. That kind of a street you don't walk after nightfall. But that was just what Bakura and Yami were doing.
Bakura closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Yami followed his every movement curiously, thinking what Bakura tried to do.
After few minutes Bakura opened his eyes and started walking again.
In what point had Bakura turned into Ryou? Yami couldn't help but wonder. His steps, his posture, everything was Ryou. The lion had turned into a lamb.
Bakura indeed was a great actor. He had watched his hikari, probably without Ryou even knowing, and learned everything from him. Now he pulled on a mask and was his hikari.
Bakura seemed no longer confident, no longer proud. Now he was confused, lost and a little afraid, because he had to walk these streets in this hour. All this he did without changing his speed. Bakura didn't hurry. Only bad actors hurried on stage. And the stage was all Bakura's.
Yami of course followed.
"What are you doing?" he asked, not understanding the point of this change.
Bakura stopped and flashed a nervous half-Bakura half-Ryou smile to Yami.
"Hunting," he mouthed silently.
Yami nodded.
It didn't take long before a perfect victim appeared. A man emerged from the shadows blocking Bakura's path. The man was tall, middle-aged, dirty, everything in him indicated to some kind of a problem with either drugs, alcohol or women. Little nervously Bakura took few steps backwards, still like Ryou. Yami truly admired his skills.
"Why would a pretty boy like you be out here in these hours?" The man asked, his voice low and raspy.
Bakura shook his head silently, and tried to hide his face behind his white locks, much like Ryou would do, or at least that's how Yami imagined it.
"What if I help you, darling?" Man asked and grinned, taking a step towards Bakura.
Yami hated people like this. He was happy that this was really Bakura and not Ryou, 'cos nobody knew what the man could do if he face someone who couldn't defend himself. Well, actually Yami knew exactly what the man would do, if he ever met Ryou. The lust in the man's eyes told everything.
The man took another step. This time Bakura didn't back away. Instead he smirked. A grin so mad and sudden it startled the man. Bakura's eyes too were suddenly darkened with lust. Lust for life, lust for blood. The mask was ripped away, and the real Bakura crawled from inside Ryou.
The man hesitated. This was new to him. To his knowledge young girlish thin boys didn't smirk like they were just going to chop someones head off.
Bakura pulled out two knives and still smirking, attacked.
Yami watched. At first without feeling. Then came fear, disgust, everything that made him feel weak. But still Yami didn't look away and hated himself for watching. Killing, it was something private, between two people, the killer and the victim. The act of killing did not need viewers. Yami decided. This was not what he wanted. He did not want to loose control over his blood lust. Yami still watched and he learned. This was his lesson in killing, that Bakura so generously had promised him. He learned as the screams of fear and pain were forced out of the victim's throat. They flowed to the air, alongside the blood.
The blood, it was everywhere, dark and tight. The blood taught Yami.
It taught that Bakura loved to play with his victims. Give them escape routes, then close in front of their nose. Bakura loved to torment, whisper promises into their ears. False promises. When it came to killing, Bakura gave no mercy. Bakura loved to play. That's why he was the psychotic one.
Yami however did to want to play. He didn't want to hold someones life in his hands, like some kind of a god. True, once he had been a semi-god to the people of Egypt. But playing with lives, no!
Yami closed his eyes in disgust, when the screams got in whole new level.
Then he could hear them.
Thump, thump, thump.
The man's heartbeat. Maybe Yami was going crazy, more crazy than he was right now feeling. Or maybe Shadow Magic amplified the sound, maybe it came from his puzzle. Yami wanted to throw the Puzzle away. He would do anything to make them stop.
Thump, thump, thump.
That horrible, tormenting sound. Sad sound, sad sound. Yami blocked his ear, but the sound of heartbeats didn't go away, until...
crack!
Something hit the wall with great force. Nothing sounds better than a sound of bones cracking. Yami hate that sound. That sounded like a large egg broken against the fryingpan's edge. But this time it wasn't definitely an egg, and that made all the difference. It was a human skull.
Thump, th-
Hear the last beats of their heart. But they were gone. And then nothing.
How fast the body turns cold?
Yami counted slowly to ten and opened his eyes. What he saw made he want to throw up.
The man, the body, the corpse, the thing.
What told Yami that Bakura had enjoyed this? Done this on purpose? The symmetrical wounds. The almost artistic matter how the body have been placed. The man laid almost peacefully on the cold street, like he was in a coffin, waiting to be buried. His hands laid next to his sides. The palms were open and facing the sky.
Half of his left arm was cut away. The skin and the muscle, starting from his wrist and ending to his shoulder. The bone and it surroundings was cleaned very accurately. The 'extra' part had disappeared, and Yami didn't want to know where it was.
The knife had went through man's right palm, and from there it had been pulled up to his shoulder, leaving a deep bloody gorge in the flesh.
Two deep cuts split both of his thighs. From under his knee the legs were nothing but blood, bones and shred of muscles, like he had cone through a shredder. This had been done just so he couldn't escape, but only after his shoes had been removed. They were placed neatly next to the corpse.
Bakura had removed all flesh around man's ribs. The man looked thin now. Yami thought that this Bakura may had done because of his own thinness. But it wasn't a clear solution to lose weight. When that flesh was off everything kind a came out. The blood trickled from between the ribs.
The man's bellybutton was cut of. In a way, Yami thought, Bakura had uncorked his victim, like one may uncork a bottle of champagne. Yami was glad Violet didn't give Bakura a corkscrew. He could do enough damage with only three knives..
The back of man's skull had been smashed into pieces. Something grey and something red spread to the street.
The man's face was completely devastated. His nose had been split up with one fierce hit. His ears were cut into shreds and glued with blood to the sides of his head. His eyes had been popped and now only bloody caves cast their gaze upon the heaven praying for mercy. A trail of blood had been drawn down man's cheek. To Yami it looked like the man was crying.
Humans are afraid of dark. Now locked in the darkness, the man's bloody eyes cried for light. Yami really hoped that man got where he wanted, to Heaven, or somewhere warmer.
There, beside the corpse stood the creepiest one, Bakura. His eyes were totally calm, his attitude was totally calm. Soaking in blood and knives in his hands, he still seemed to say 'I didn't do it. What a pity, that things like these happen, but that's how the world is today..'
His blood lust was settled.
Carefully keeping his eyes on the body, so he would not trip, Bakura stepped over it and walked next to silent Yami.
With a fast movement of his wrist he turned the knife in his hand, so it's blade leaned lightly against Bakura's bloody palm and the handle, covered in red fingerprints pointed towards Yami.
"Your turn," Bakura said.
Weakly Yami reached out for the knife. The handle was warm.
A/N I feel this weird tingly feeling in my left arm, maybe that poor man is haunting me. D: Anyway, I'm going to sleepover to my friend's house, so I can't answer to your reviews until tomorrow night (My timezone, people)