I have, once again, found myself enjoying the wonders of Yu-Gi-Oh. Yeah. There's not much to say as of right now, so I suppose I'll get on to the semi-important crap. Oh! This fic takes place during HP year 7, and takes place during the Orichalcos incident. This is what Malik and Bakura were doing. This story replaces all traces of the Millennium World saga, simply because of the timeline of this story.
Summary: Things rarely go as planned. Ryou, Yami Bakura, and Malik knew this well, and they expected it. They didn't expect, however, for their paths to cross once more with danger and plunge them into a desperate world in need of saving...the world of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Disclaimer: If I owned Yu-Gi-Oh, Yami Bakura would be my sex slave. X3
-Ryou to Bakura-
"Bakura to Ryou"
The Dark Lord Cometh
"Damn it Malik, drive!" The five-thousand year old spirit of the Millennium Ring shouted over the roar of the motorcycle. Brilliant jets of green, red, and blue lights shot past them. The lights probably would have hit them too, if it weren't for Malik's unpredictable driving.
The farms lining the typically deserted country road fell behind them as they sped down the long street. Bakura wasn't absolutely sure, but he could have sworn Malik was driving over the maximum speed limit of the bike. Judging from the wheezing of the engine, they were definitely close to maxing out the vehicle.
Malik turned his head and said something to Bakura, but his words were lost between the whipping wind, sputtering engine, and 'whooshes' of lights that flew past them at unnatural speeds.
"What?" Bakura called, and Malik blinked for a second, before repeating whatever he'd said. "I can't read lips whilst on a speeding vehicle, Malik!"
Malik rolled his eyes, or at least the one Bakura could see, and shouted back, "I said: these things those guys are shooting are travelling faster than the speed of freaking light!"
"No shit, Sherlock! They're jets of light, aren't they?"
"Shut up and let me drive!" Malik growled, chastised by Bakura's snappy comment. Bakura almost missed the comment due to the other noises that commanded his ears' attention. His ruby eyes snapped back to the road that was disappearing beneath them.
Bakura dared a glance backwards at their followers, and daresay he felt like he was in some cartoon chase-scene. The men - or he assumed they were all men - were dressed up in black cloaks that completely covered them and wore ridiculous masks of some sort of human skull. It was quite tacky, really. Bakura did a better job of scaring people without the stupid mask-and-cloak getup. What was even more ridiculous was the fact that they were chasing the two males on broomsticks. Yes, broomsticks.
The lights of London were coming up ahead of them, and Bakura could feel a lift of relief. These weirdos would have a tougher time attacking them in a busy city than they would out here in the deserted country areas of Britain.
Bakura reminded himself never to go on a road trip with Malik ever again.
A week and a half ago, Malik and Ryou had planned some stunt to go on a road trip around England. Ryou mostly wanted to see his home country again, Malik just wanted to do something interesting and spontaneous. Spontaneity and Malik tended to go hand-in-hand on most occasions.
The two had then proceeded to pack their duffel bags and jump onto a plane. It wasn't until they were mid-flight that Bakura realized exactly where they were going and what was going on. He'd been dozing off for a few days. He figured that he got what he deserved, because you don't just not pay attention when Ryou and Malik are within one hundred yards of each other.
Jeez, and the Pharaoh complained about Malik and him. Malik and Ryou were...perish the thought, it wasn't worth his time.
Anyways, their road trip had started off all well and good, until they got to the charming city of London about two days ago. Once they'd managed to secure themselves a room with two beds that wasn't impossibly expensive, they'd set off to do some touring around the famous city. Yesterday, the two had happened upon some old rundown pub called the Leaky Cauldron. When Ryou had asked a passerby why the windows were boarded up even though a few people had gone into the little pub, the man had tipped his hat and said that the pub was long deserted, and Ryou must've been seeing a trick of the light. Good old British folk didn't just wander into empty pubs, after all.
Well, that little bit of information had sparked some interest in Malik, even though Ryou had deemed it a horrible idea. The Egyptian had proceeded to sneak into the little abandoned pub, and both Malik and Ryou had been astonished to find that it was indeed occupied. It was perfectly clean inside, with a bartender sitting in a rickety old chair behind the bar. His eyes were sunken and his skin sallow, as if life and stress hadn't been particularly kind to him. His last wisps of hair were a perfect silver, and he looked like he might've been presentable in the past.
The man had barely noticed Ryou and Malik's entry, and had ignored them after mumbling the words "Hello, m'name's Tom. Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron." in the most unwelcome voice imaginable.
Malik had been slightly perturbed by this odd man's sullen behavior, and had prodded Ryou into exploring with him. They'd taken a quick sweep of the lower level, choosing to ignore what must've been an inn of sorts upstairs, and had proceeded right out the back door, even with Ryou protesting against the entire operation.
Once they'd exited the depressing little pub, both males had been very shocked to see an entire street lined with a wide assortment of shops on the other side of a blown-open brick wall. The shops were all dusty and cold, with boarded up windows and 'closed' signs. In the centre of the street stood a large wooden sign proclaiming 'Diagon Alley, Wizarding Street of Wonders.' It'd been a bold proclamation, considering the 'ghost town' state of the entire place.
Ryou had then decided that it was absolutely necessary that the both of them leave this odd place, but Malik being Malik had wanted to look around some more. Against the white-haired boy's will, he'd been dragged down the deserted street, forced to explore the remains of brightly coloured awnings that had been torn down, tables and chairs of cafes that'd been torn limb from limb, and cope with the feeling that something very bad had happened here.
Things just went downhill fast from there.
A group of men in black cloaks and skull masks had paraded out of a shop, dragging a dirty, sickly looking woman out with them. Upon spotting Ryou and Malik, they'd begun screaming obscenities and threats for them to 'get lost' or 'scram'. Or else.
Bakura hadn't liked that kind of treatment, and had promptly taken over Ryou's body and told the little cult of cloaked freaks just exactly where they could go should they threaten him again. The cloaks had definitely not liked that, and had proceeded to drop the injured lady and start chasing Bakura and Malik.
They'd been assaulted by an onslaught of beams of light, which both Millennium Item holders assumed were spells of some sort. That had prompted both males to literally start running for their lives, Malik the entire time cursing Bakura's need for causing mayhem. Bakura had calmly pointed out, while dodging a wide array of colourful spells, that the entire situation was to the fault of Malik's insatiable curiosity.
Then he used the ever-so-cliche line: curiosity killed the cat.
Once the two males had managed to escape onto the streets of London, where busy people milled about on their nightly tasks, both Malik and Bakura realized that they were no longer being chased. Malik had sworn off of meandering into little abandoned pubs from that day forward.
Bakura thought that he was full of it, and would probably do so again within the span of a week.
It was only after they'd managed to get back to the inn where they were staying that Bakura finally relinquished control back to Ryou, who was completely in shock about the entire ordeal. They'd fallen into a very brief, very fitful sleep after that.
Their relaxation had been interrupted, however, when their door was banged on in the wee hours of the morning. Malik had told whoever was outside to come back later, but the banging continued. Both males had groggily gotten dressed and answered the door. Much to their shock, that group of cloaked men stood before them, demanding their arrests immediately. Bakura had then slammed shut the door, having shoved Ryou back into his soul room for protection, and safeguarded it with Shadow Magic. Bakura told Malik to pack their duffels, and they'd both done so with great haste in record timing.
Then they made their grand escape out of the window of the inn, and down onto the roof of a two-story building. They'd managed to break into the car garage to salvage Malik's motorcycle when the cloaks appeared again. Malik and Bakura had driven through the group, and had been driving since four AM that morning up until ten o'clock that very night.
Yeah, life sucks sometimes. They were still being chased by the cloaked men, who were definitely not relenting in their man hunt. Bakura cursed their existences, mostly because he'd been robbed of a decent night's sleep, and no one, absolutely no onestole anything from Bakura and lived to tell the tale.
"What are we doing when we get into the city?" Malik cried, hoping dearly that the ancient spirit had an idea of sorts.
Bakura grinned conspiratorially, "We ditch your bike."
"What?" Malik called. He hadn't heard Bakura's words, but he'd heard the tone, and whatever Bakura was cooking up was notably evil.
Bakura rolled his eyes, "We're ditching your bike somewhere!" He repeated, but louder this time.
Malik's eyes widened as he glanced back at the spirit, "Hell to the no! I paid a fucking fortune for this bike! We're not just going to ditch it."
"Okay, then we'll park it somewhere, and beat it down London on foot." Bakura told the Egyptian irritably.
"We're going to be in like the ghetto of London, though! No one's ever out at this time there, we'll be sitting ducks!" Malik protested, and Bakura could feel Ryou's own protests to the idea beating at the back of their shared mind.
"We'll be running ducks," Bakura corrected, "And does London even have a ghetto?"
"Yeah, but it's like uptown for most people!" Malik replied, letting loose a mad howl of excitement as he revved the engine and sped up a little. His violet eyes were as wild as his wind-blown hair. He looked a little deranged, actually.
Bakura clicked his tongue in annoyance just as a jet of green light almost skinned the side of his face. Malik swerved the bike and glanced over his shoulder, "You okay?" The Egyptian called.
"It's nice to hear that you care," Bakura replied dryly, but his sarcasm was shattered as another spell whizzed past his head. "Now focus!" He shouted as Malik's bike veered around a big metal can that would've been their demise had it not been spotted. Bakura gritted his chattering teeth, jerking on the rib cage that he'd captured in his steely grasp in an effort to survive the entire escape. He wanted Malik to know that he wasn't pleased...not at all.
"I'm not ditching my bike in the London ghettos!" Malik suddenly declared, finding his voice again.
Bakura hissed slightly, "Do we have a choice?"
"Yes, we do!"
The bike hit city streets, and suddenly instead of farms they were passing buildings. As Malik had predicted, the streets were totally deserted besides a window with a light on here and there. Bakura bit his lip, having to recalculate his previous plans. He'd been counting on spectators.
The spells continued their onslaught, and Bakura had to slam Malik's head down as a spell went jetting over their heads. Malik protested, but wasn't too worked up about Bakura saving his hide.
That was when Bakura's worst fears became reality. The bike let out a sickly sputtering cough and started to slow down, a stream of thick, black smoke billowing out of the exhaust pipe. The engine's whirring sounds started to grow quieter.
"Malik!" Bakura shouted, eyes widening in horror, "Can you fix this?"
Malik's blonde locks swayed as he shook his head, just as horrified, "C'mon baby," He cooed to the motorcycle, "Don't die on daddy now..."
When Bakura realized that the bike was barely going 10 miles and hour, he took the opportunity to knock both of them from the seat, sending them tumbling onto the streets of London. It was a given that they'd have lots of bruises in the morning.
Malik rolled onto his knees and coughed, "What the hell, Bakura?" He cried out, rubbing around his skinned elbow, which was bleeding out crimson at that point.
Bakura ignored Malik's grumblings and wrenched the protesting Egyptian onto his feet, "Let's go!" He commanded, and they both tore down the first alley they could see.
"Hurry, before they get away!" One of the guys yelled, and Bakura bit his cheek at the nasally, whiny sound of the man's voice. It wouldn't be a good idea to burst into hysterics when one was fleeing from a psychotic mask-wearing cult.
Malik was attempting to run and nurse his wounded elbow at the same time. Bakura would have called him a pansy over a cut so shallow, but he held his tongue when he saw that Malik looked more like he was pissed off than in agonizing pain. Bakura caught the tail end of a few choice Arabic curses, and he had to snicker in appreciation. It was some seriously creative use of cussing Malik was exercising.
"There they are!" One sneered, and Bakura had the slightest inkling of a feeling that the man resembled a rat. He sure sounded like one.
Malik glimpsed the curse shooting at Bakura, and kicked his white-haired friend out of the way just as the curse sailed right through what had previously been the spirit's middle. Bakura muttered a word of thanks as they met up again and turned down another alley that was slick with water and grease.
-Yami, we're not going to survive this, are we?-
"Do you really want to hear my answer?"
"Yeah. We're fucked."
Malik had pulled out the Millennium Rod, and had gotten a wisp of the mind-conversation between the yami and hikari. He hissed at the spirit in frustration, "We're not fucked. Not yet." He snarled, his eyes going hard as coals, yet determined as twin raging violet fires.
Bakura threw his hands up in mock surrender as they dashed around another corner, "I was simply stating my views."
"Well, don't." Malik snapped.
Apparently the lack of sleep was getting to all party members.
The darkness curled around them as Malik summoned as much shadows as he could in the very concentration-breaking situation. It merged with the darkness of the night, aiding the stealth maneuver. The Eye of Horus appeared on his forehead; bright, golden, and shining like a tacky neon sign.
"I like your thinking." Bakura told his friend with a dark, malicious grin as he too summoned the shadows. The Eye materialized on his forehead also, and they began pumping their legs, pushing the exhausted muscles to their absolute limit.
The cloaked men definitely didn't see it coming when their entire bodies were immobilized by the shadows, stuck in a temporary stranglehold of gray darkness. Bakura sneered at them over his shoulder, but put his attitude in check when he regarded Malik, "The shadows won't hold for long."
It wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact.
Malik answered anyways. "I doubt it, but we should get a better head start now." Malik was wondering why he hadn't thought of immobilizing them in shadows before. Oh yeah, they did, and it didn't do all that much damage.
"Yeah, like that's going to help them with their bewitched broomsticks." They broke onto the main street, the dark sidewalks still totally deserted, "Remind me never to go on a road trip with you again."
Malik sneered at his comrade, "It wasn't you I invited. You just happened to be an unwanted parasite that couldn't be removed."
"It heartens me to know that you love me so much."
"Whoa tiger, I don't swing that way. I'll have to take a rain check." Malik jibed, grinning saucily at his own joke.
"You're all tongue-and-cheek aren't you?"
"It's my best weapon." Malik replied breathlessly.
"I thought your best weapon was your Rod." Bakura deadpanned, just as tired as his Egyptian friend was.
Malik grimaced slightly as they continued running. It was amazing what adrenaline could do to allow a guy to run and converse at the same time, "I already told you that I don't swing that way."
"Your Millennium Rod, you dolt."
The conversation ended then and there, and the sounds of their panting filled the empty space that'd been previously occupied by good-natured prodding conversation. It wasn't a very warm occupant, however, since they were both suddenly reminded that they were on the run from a bunch of lunatics that put Bakura and Malik's weird heists to shame.
Suddenly a shadowy form began to materialize about ten feet ahead of them. The two kept running towards it, however, misguided in what it was.
When Malik saw the form of a man begin to take shape, he swallowed uneasily, "Bakura, did you learn a new trick...?" He asked, the hopefulness in his voice showing pathetically. He was practically whining. He knew they were in trouble.
"I was about to ask you the same thing." The spirit spat, knowing they'd lost.
-Oh my god...- Ryou whispered, looking through Bakura's eyes.
Bakura summed up the three's feelings very nicely in two very short, very sweet words:
Yes, the title was a play on the 'Dark One Cometh' from the Millennium World of YuGiOh. No, this has nothing to do with Millennium World. Yes, Bakura is a little more subdued than one would expect. Yes, he is like that for a reason. I believe that Bakura does not beat Ryou, as that was never truly stated in either the manga or the anime (this is speaking purely of my own knowledge, not on rock-solid fact), so I don't think that he's quite as vicious and sadistic as the fanfics make him out to be. I think he's definitely a little crazy, but I think he's a little more wry around Ryou and Malik. After all, he hates the Pharaoh with a fiery burning passion, so obviously he's not going to crack jokes at him. He doesn't half-mind Malik, and his opinion of Ryou isn't particularly well-developed in the real Yu-Gi-Oh, so this is definitely embellishment on my part.
I'm using my creative license, okay?
Drop a review on your way out, please! Feed this attention-starved authoress! X3