A/N: Clashshipping Yami Malik x Yami Yugi for computerfreak101's contest, season 4, round 5.

Okay, I'm seriously stumped by this pairing. So we're going back to the world of "I'm Never Robbing...", "Cops and Robbers", and "We'll Never Know".

Malik means Yami Malik. But since 'yami' isn't really in his name, I just referred to him as Malik. Don't like it? Don't read it.

Beta-read by pyro-crazed gel.

Rated T because Yami Malik is a crazy, evil, psycho, sadistic, masochistic bastard.

Disclaimer: If I owned Yugioh, there'd be a little more explanation as to how Yami Malik was got rid of with magic when he was a psychological disease.


Atem slammed the glass down on the bar loudly. The dingy lights over his head swayed back and forth from the force.

"Something wrong?" the dark-skinned bartender asked with a grin. "Slam that any harder and the whole damn place will collapse."

Atem growled and pushed the glass towards the bartender.

"Another?" he asked, putting away the glass he was wiping. Atem shook his head.

"I've had enough," he grumbled.

"Oh come on," he pushed. With a practiced motion, he swiped the glass off the table, put it under the tap, refilled it, and placed it down full again in front of Atem. "One more won't hurt."

The Egyptian robber eyed the glass unwillingly. He didn't want to drink any more. He didn't want to rob banks, or smoke, or run away from cops, or have to worry about Bakura or anyone else.

"So what was it?" the curious barkeep asked. "Your woman ran away?"

"Something like that," Atem mumbled, thinking of the thief king. Absentmindedly, he took a swig of beer. The bartender raised an eyebrow.

"Oh," he said, smirking. Atem blushed a bit.
"It's none of your business," he said, avoiding eye contact. The bartender laughed. Atem inadvertently shuddered at the sound. He felt cold all of a sudden. He wanted to get out. Pushing the drink away, he stood up and threw a handful of change on the table.

"Is that all I get from the partner of the infamous thief king?" he hissed. Atem whirled around to see the bartender glaring at him.

"What...?" he asked confused. The other man narrowed his eyes and grinned wickedly. Atem tensed, and glanced around the bar. How the hell did he not notice that no one else was there?

"You're coming with me," the bartender smirked. "Until I get my due,"

"Like hell I am--" Atem started to shout with his old spark. Then he felt the drugs slipped into his drink starting to take effect. He stumbled forward. He felt himself panicking. Oh Ra, he was being drugged by a psycho... mob boss? Someone who wanted money, and he couldn't get away... Bakura!
Atem dropped to his knees, slurring insults at the bartender.

"You don't... do this to Atem... and get away with it..." he managed to get out before he passed out.

"On the contrary, Atem," the other man laughed. "Malik does whatever the hell he wants"

Atem blinked. The first thing he noticed was the darkness. The room was completely dark. The next thing he noticed was the pounding pain in his head. He tried to raise a hand, and all he got for his effort was a chafed wrist. He looked down to see... well, nothing. The room was completely devoid of light. But he felt the ropes cutting into his wrists, which were crossed behind his back and tied around a sturdy wooden chair. Atem tentatively tested his feet. They were untied. He felt his panic lessen slightly. This guy wasn't as good as he thought.

"Morning," Malik laughed. "So, do you know why you're here?"

"Bakura owes you money?" Atem groaned. It wouldn't be the first time they'd had financial troubles, though it would be the first time he'd been kidnapped by a crazy Egyptian.

"Bakura owes me money," he repeated. "Good! Very good!"

"You're not going to get anything from me," Atem said, trying to get Malik to respond. If he kept him talking, he could find out where he was, surprise attack him with the chair, and get the hell out. "I'm not partners with him anymore. He won't pay you for me."

"You're not partners?" Malik asked. Atem wasn't sure with real or feigned surprise.

"No," he answered anyway. "So you might as well just let me go and kidnap him instead."

"Now, now," Atem heard footsteps. He was getting closer. "Just because you're not working together doesn't mean you're not still with him--"

"Hell no!" Atem protested loudly. "We're over."

Malik laughed loudly. Atem fought the bile in his throat. The laugh was just so, clich? as it may sound, evil. There was just no other word. He felt like this man might kill him at a moment's notice, just because he was bored.

"So I should kidnap the thief king, then, is that what you're saying?" Atem silently started to pick up his chair and stand.

"Yeah," Atem quickly agreeed. He heard another footstep come towards him, and another.

He swung up and around. The chair make a satisfying thwack on Malik's chest and face. Atem quickly spun about again and threw himself onto his kidnapper, chair first. Malik made no effort to resist. He had to be knocked out over that, right?

Atem had started to run away, chair and all, when he heard the evil laugh again.

"Oooh, that was good," Malik laughed. "Very good! But now it's your turn." He wrapped his arm around Atem's leg and dragged him to the ground. Atem yelled in surprise. The both hit the floor loudly.

"Did that hurt, Atem?" Malik asked eerily. "Did you feel the pain? The fear? Maybe you're still afraid, even. Ha! Isn't it wonderful?"

"You're crazy," Atem gasped, futilely trying to get back on his feet.

"I guess I'll just leave you like that then," Malik smirked. "But wait. You don't look too comfortable. Let me help with that." He started kicking Atem and laughed again.

"Bastard," Atem spat through the pain.

"Does it hurt?" Malik asked again, gleefully. "The burning pain coursing through your veins!" He punctuated it with a particularly vicious kick. Atem could do nothing but lie helplessly like a turtle on its back, while Malik mercilessly beat him. "Every part of you hurts--when you move, it hurts." He grabbed a leg of the chair and pushed it across the room. Atem gasped loudly. "When you breathe, it hurts." Malik approached slowly. "All you can feel is the pain. There is nothing else. It is the only thing that tells you you're still alive."

Atem felt his mind fogging up. He could hear the sadistic bastard talking, but it was fuzzy, like a badly tuned radio. He couldn't tell if his vision was fading because there was nothing to see. His body was one mass of pain.

"Have you had enough?" Malik asked.

"You want the money?" Atem coughed. "I'll get you money--"

"I don't give a damn about the money the stupid thief owes me," Malik spat. Ah. So Bakura DID owe him. Atem made a mental note to kill him if he got out of this.

"This is about you," he growled with pleasure. "Aren't you enjoying it?"

"You're sick!" Atem spat.

"Maybe you haven't had enough pain?" Malik asked. Atem heard the sickening click of a switchblade.

"No..." he started. The next thing he knew, Malik plunged the knife into his leg.

"Gaah!" Atem cried in pain. Malik howled with laughter.

"More!" he shouted. Atem feebly tried to kick at him, so Malik slashed at his other leg. Atem clenched his teeth and groaned loudly. The knife clattered to the floor, and Malik stepped back to look at his work.

"Enjoying it now?" he shouted gleefully. Atem wasn't paying attention. The knife. This could be his only chance to get away from the psycho. Trying to block out the pain, Atem rolled onto his knees. Crawling awkwardly with just his legs, he moved in the direction of the knife. Malik, still laughing crazily, didn't notice. Atem moved forward and felt the handle digging into his leg. Quickly, he flipped over again on top of the knife.

"Hey," Malik said, his laughter subsiding. His attention had been drawn by the clatter. "What's going on? You trying to get up?"

Atem said nothing, scrabbling for the switchblade. He brushed it, and frantically grabbed it. Cold steel bit into his bare hand, but he grasped it tightly. With the bit of the blade that wasn't cutting him, he sawed at the ropes. Malik hovered over him. Atem could hear his heavy breathing above his head.

"What're you doing, Atem?" Malik asked. "Don't you like this?"

The ropes broke free. The Egyptian former robber sprang forward slashing wildly at Malik. The bartender leapt back quickly, but Atem flung the knife at him. It buried itself deep in Malik's shoulder. He screamed loudly. Atem braced himself for an attack but none came. Without missing a beat, he limped across the room and started looking for a way out.

"Atem!" Malik cried. "Isn't it wonderful?" Atem ignored him and staggered forward blindly. Malik cried out with pleasure again, and Atem shuddered.

The former robber's hand closed around and handle. Desperately, he turned it. It opened. Atem pushed it forward, into blinding light. He didn't look back as he escaped, Malik's crazed laughter filling his ears.


A/N: Yami Malik is the definition of a sadist/masochist. (enjoys inflicting pain/receiving pain) Despite the advice of my beta-reader, I chose to write it without sex. I'm disturbed enough that I wrote THIS. Yami Malik is the embodiment of pure evil (pretty much) and the only thing he ever showed any affection towards was pain. He LOVED those Dark Games. So, the only way I could in-character make a Yami Malik pairing was to write something like this.