A/N: Pre-DOOM. The meaning of the title is quite symbolic, don't you think? And pretty obvious, too.

Dark Designator – Magic Card out of the Duel Monsters card game. Description: Declare 1 Monster Card name. If the declared card is in your opponent's Deck, add 1 of that card to your opponent's hand.

Bakura used this card against Yami Marik in their duel. Or was it Mai? I no longer remember, but I do remember that it was used against Yami Marik to relieve him of his Egyptian God card (and we all know what it was so don't make me to repeat that).

Disclaimer: I know it. You know it. We all know it. And Kazuki Takahashi-san knows it too.

Warnings: Implied rape. Yeah, you heard me.


Dark Designator

I don't know what's going on. I'm still asleep when he comes, and I'm already asleep when he leaves. Always. It must be some hypnotics or narcotic because I never notice his departure. It's continuing for months already and I still have no clue as to who he is. Sometimes I'm prone to think that he's just a phony hallucination. A mere trick of my mind. But I know, and he, whoever he is, knows that it's for real. He comes and goes, and never on a schedule. I can never predict his next arrival. If I could, I could be prepared, but he doesn't want that.

He can come twice a week, very rarely – thrice; sometimes he skips a week or two, or three. Yet the most common for him is to come once in two weeks. He's spontaneous and unpredictable, although not in everything. Some things have a repetitive and annoying regularity. He never reveals his identity, and I've never seen his face because every time I awaken, alerted to his presence in my room, there's a blindfold covering my eyes. And it's not like I could remove it because by that time my hands have been tied to the headboard. The binds are always pulled tight – downright to the point of cutting my blood flow off.

My visitor (can I even call him that?) always moves silently; he never lets out a sound to let me to identify him. Well, with the exception of deep, throaty and soundless chuckles that he gives when I try to resist. Granted, I did resist. Wouldn't anyone? The first few nights I struggled against the binds to the point of hurting myself just as much as he hurt me, and the next morning I had to work on treating and covering my bruises so that no one would see. Yet some bruises have no cure.

I've asked him thousands of questions, demanded answers, but received silence as the only answer. Of course some of my questions got answered, but it would have been better if they hadn't been. Not those questions.

At first I assumed it should be someone from the inside because he was so obviously well acquainted with the house's security – none of the alarms ever went off, none of the perimeters were breached, and no cameras had fixed him. I conducted a huge investigation concerning my employees, but had to drop that possibility when all of the staff had changed three times as a minimum, and my little brother started to complain about them coming and going so fast that he could no longer remember their proper names. All my efforts were in vain though, because the nightly visits never stopped.


At this particular moment Seto Kaiba was in his room, lying awake and guessing whether his mystery visitor was going to show up tonight or not. He was eager to learn who he was, and this night the brown-haired businessman was certain that he would finally gain such knowledge. Yet, somehow, his nightly visitor could always tell when he was expecting him and did not show up as if to spite him. This night was no exception. Of course it was better if he did not come at all, because Kaiba was not thrilled about the events taking place every night that he was here. But this night was different. He had reinforced the security measures, increased the number of cameras and turned the mansion from fortress into near prison. Not even a mouse could slip by unnoticed. Nor could his "visitor", the brunette was certain.

Kaiba shifted in his bed. Seconds were silently ticking away, and his eyelids drooped every once in a while, but he fought to stay awake. He had to. To keep himself entertained, he reminisced on the very beginning of the nightly intrusions. He had considered it a mere hallucination, a trick of his mind. He had thought that Mokuba might be right telling him that he worked too much. Perhaps he had, indeed, overworked and was hallucinating. He had even considered taking a small break to spend more time with the energy ball that was his brother, but the first strange happenings had prevented that.

Kaiba remembered that it had started with the sense of someone's presence in the rooms that were seemingly empty. Then the haunting had centered on the rooms he inhabited. There it stayed transfixed for a few weeks. Next came the intimidating feeling of being watched and soon after that he had found the first coin. Oh, yes, a coin. It was a very strange, small coin. Its diameter was one centimeter; the material was light and grey. Pewter, Kaiba assumed, but was not entirely sure. The coin had no ornaments, no value engraved upon it, only a tiny hole near the edge for who knows what reason. He had never seen anything quite like this before, and even the Internet research gave no results.

Every morning that followed the night of a visit he found such coin on the bedside table, placed so that he would notice it straight away. He did not know its meaning, but he suspected it. By now he had an entire collection of them. Many identical small grey coins were safely locked in the bottom drawer of his nightstand. Kaiba wanted, but never got around to counting them. He did not want to know how many nights had there been so far and how many more were yet to come.

He yawned. Weary blue eyes glanced at the clock. A little bit past three o'clock. His visitor had not appeared yet and Kaiba doubted that he would come now when the sun was about to rise. He did not come the night after. Not the night after that. Kaiba's mystery visitor showed up five days later on Sunday night.


Seto Kaiba was asleep, and he stopped to observe him for a moment. The brunette's chest was rising and falling slowly, a peaceful expression on his face and rich brown hair casting shadows over his closed eyes. The man knew that his prey would soon awaken, and he did not want that. Chloroform-soaked cloth was lightly draped over the brunette's face and the intruder counted seconds, holding his breath in. Not too long or the chemical would cause irreparable damage and he did not want that. He needed the CEO to understand what was going on.

First came the blindfold, then he removed the brunette's nightclothes and then he tied his hands to the headboard. Now the intruder could sit back and watch his prey until he awakened. It would not take more than few minutes because the dose was not too large – only enough to daze him and render him temporarily defenceless.

Kaiba was beginning to stir from his heavy slumber. There was a dull sensation in his temples and a strange foreboding settled in his mind. He could not see the open window, but he felt the chilly night air filling his room, brushing against his exposed skin and making him shiver. Strange… He had closed the window before going to bed. Then he opened his eyes, already predicting the sight that would greet him. He saw only darkness, which confirmed his suspicion. He was here.

Kaiba froze out of habit and asked, "Who are you?" also out of habit.

Answer to that never came. Instead, clothes rustled silently as someone approached him, and then his bed shifted. Kaiba's mystery visitor was now sitting next to him. Leisurely he ran his fingertips down Kaiba's face before wandering over to his chest. That emotionless caress sent a new array of shivers up the brunette's spine. Slender fingers slowly travelled across the helpless body with possessive accuracy while their owner relished in those partially suppressed tremors his prey was emitting. He wondered how many people had ever seen the almighty Kaiba this vulnerable? How many knew how helpless he could become under someone else's power? And how much would they be ready to pay to see such image for the tiniest of seconds? A lot, he assumed.

It was more than just delight to see the otherwise cold and stoic man this defenceless. It was more than just a feeling of unlimited power. The intruder was proud to be the only cause of it. On nights like these Seto Kaiba belonged to him and only him. The arrogant and all-powerful CEO was his to do with as he pleased.

He leaned down to Kaiba's neck, sucking, biting and teasing his skin. His mouth travelled all over his neck, shoulders and chest, but always avoided his lips. The intruder clearly showed what this was and what this was not. It was not an act of passion and affection, but rather the one of raw lust and destruction. He bit down on Kaiba's shoulder, making damn sure to leave a mark there, his lips fiercely sucked on his neck, leaving swelling bruises behind, then moved over to his nipples. Silently he spilled all of his hatred for this man.

Kaiba knew what was about to come and braced himself. He would not cry out to satisfy his silent tormentor. A sharp intake of breath and a ragged gasp was all he could hope for. Kaiba despised those hands possessing his body with dark kind of passion – passion for destruction. He hated those soft strands of hair that always brushed against his skin when the other man leaned down to him. But even the dark hatred did not erase the burning pain that filled him when the other possessed him completely. Tomorrow he would find another coin on his nightstand, but right now there still was darkness and pain to endure.

Nothing gentle.

Nothing passionate.

Pain for pain.

Destruction for destruction.


Amelda was standing up on the cliff, cold grey eyes roaming over the restless water field below. A contented smirk adorned his thin lips as his fingers played with something. Grey gaze lowered to survey the small round item in his palm. A pewter coin with no ornaments, no value engraved upon it, and a tiny hole near the edge, which had once kept it on cheap cotton. Now it was just a piece of a broken necklace that he had once bought from a little starving girl. Worthless. And in the same time – a life's worth.

Worthless coins, and in his hand was residing the last one. The others belonged to someone else now, but that someone else was not worthy enough to receive the last coin. You could not buy anything with this money, but the only thing you could use it for was something equally worthless. It was a symbol. A symbol that only he, Amelda, could understand.

Worthless for worthless.

And yet one life's worth.

Amelda flipped the coin and threw it over the edge, watching how it disappeared among the waves below. Nothing could ever be entirely complete. Seto Kaiba was never going to possess the last piece of the little girl's necklace. The redhead closed his eyes and inhaled the salty air. Soon. Very soon Seto Kaiba would meet him in person, and he was waiting for this meeting with great impatience. He had started destroying him several months ago, and he will gladly finish his work by feeding his soul to the Great Beast.

As they say – an eye for an eye.

Innocence for innocence.