Wahaha! I have a new story out! And oh boy do I like it. X3 So here's the first chapter for my newest ficcy, which I hope you will all enjoy.

Oh, one thing to say quickly before I get to the disclaimer. When I say Marik I mean the hikari of course. I know, most people do it the other way around, but hey, this is just how I do it. So meh, hope that's not too annoying. Also, this is AU and centers around the pairing of Thiefshipping, though there will be others too, as soon as I'm sure that I'll be sticking them in here. Right now the only other shipping I'm almost positive I will be writing will be Puppyshipping. Yup, just wanted to make that all clear, heheh. XD

Disclaimer!: I make no money from the writing of this story because I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! I would like to, as I'm sure all of us would, but hey, that dream's not going to come true anytime soon right? So bleh, without further ado, I present to you Deadly Ambivalence!

EDIT 9-3-12: The chapter has been cleaned up some (read: fixed stupid mistakes I made before but probably still didn't catch them all), I took the suturing needles out of the first aid kit Ryou gave Marik because WHAT WAS I THINKING HE COULD HAVE KILLED BAKURA IF HE HAD THOSE!, and I also fixed the part where Marik mentions not having any weapons or anything on his person (because he actually does.)

The only thought that ran through Marik's head was "Well shit."

Of course, inevitably after that came the ringing proclamations of just how stupid he had been, and of all the mistakes he'd made and shouldn't have had he been paying better attention instead of acting like some cocky brat out on his first mission. Why, half of those mistakes could have been made by a rookie! Surely not he, great Marik Ishtar of the elite Tomb Keepers could have made such grave mistakes!

His skillfully tuned ears caught the sound of approaching footsteps and he stealthily molded his lithe body against the wall, hidden completely by the cloaking shadows. At least he could prevent himself from botching up yet again. And perhaps if the gods felt pleased today, they could allow him to salvage what little was left of this mission and get away after all. And if not, he mused, smiling wryly despite the bleak outcome, there would be plenty of time later to berate himself. Always looking on the bright side, that was him.

The footsteps grew louder as whoever it was walking at the time of night came closer and closer to Marik's hiding spot. His cynical smirk vanished as he listened carefully. The sound of the footfalls was muffled by the plush rug in the hallway, making the sound they produced difficult to hear. Despite this disadvantage, and his recent run of bad luck, Marik was able to discover what he'd been searching for. A slight shuffling of those feet, and was that the rustling swift-swift of pajamas? Good. The approaching intruder was not any sort of bodyguard, unless they'd taken to wearing the clothes of a sleepy citizen instead of Kevlar. Perhaps this was a gift from the gods, though admittedly, he would have rather preferred the absence of company, even if it was the kind that didn't come with guns ablaze.

Marik backed up ever so slightly to get more of his body into the shadows. It wouldn't do for this one stroke of luck to be ruined because his prey had caught sight of him. Not that he believed this would happen, but so far everything else tonight had turned out not to be in his best interests, so it was better to not risk it. He moved silently, and by the steady sound of the approaching feet, the other being was none the wiser. Which would ultimately be this person's downfall.

He held his breath, and gripped the hilt of the sheathed dagger hanging off his belt. The footsteps were turning the corner… and as a shot of adrenaline skyrocketed through his system, he went for his goal.

Marik darted out of the shadows, revealing himself to the widened brown eyes of his prey. He heard a gasp, then with one fluid motion had pulled out the dagger and hooked his free arm around the other person's skinny waist and had pulled their bodies sharply together. He jammed the dagger up to the scrawny neck of his prey and there was another gasp, hardly audible.

The body writhed against his. Marik's blood caught fire. Oh…! He loved it. Loved to feel that helpless struggling! It always gave him the same thrilling burst of fervent emotion and palpable ecstasy, but each prey's struggle before falling to his blade was so exciting!, so different!, that it ensured each experience to be a deliciously new one. Mmhmmm… He almost allowed his eyes to drift close. Oh… He wanted to kill this one… Bleed him like a pig… Watch the blood fall…

With a snarl Marik jabbed the dagger closer to that tempting neck. No, he couldn't kill his prey. Not yet. He still had a job to do, after all. But it still pleased him when he felt a small drip of wetness fall to the surface of his blade.

"Unless you wish to become a mere stain on this lovely carpet, I strongly suggest that you not utter a single syllable. Not even one of those adorable gasps of yours. Lest I feel tempted to cut your tongue from your mouth," Marik cooed deliriously in his captive's ear as he brushed away some of his hair. Normally he would have kept his arm firmly secured around the waist of his prey, but this one, this one was stiff with fear. He could literally smell the stench of terror coming off this one, and oh did it excite him! He wanted to make this little toy in his arms fear him even more!

"Not that I would mind too much," He continued, smiling twistedly as his free hand trailed slowly down the cheek of his captive, other still brandishing the dagger. Though the body pressed against his own was rigidly still, he could still feel the slightest tremor of fear course through the other's body. How… fun! It seemed that his victim was so terrified, he was actually attempting to keep something so involuntary as shuddering to a minimum!

"I would love for nothing more than to kill you here. But first," Marik whispered, shifting closer to his prey's ear, "I would make you bleed and scream. I'd start slowly, small cuts, then work my way up to bigger fish, like cutting off a finger. You wouldn't believe how much torture a body can endure until it shuts down. And how long it can take if done correctly..." His voice trailed off and now he did allow himself to close his eyes, and for a moment to envision that perfect scream echoing through the halls of this large house. Delicious. He opened his eyes with a shudder and pulled away from the ear of his little toy.

"Unfortunately, I have other business to attend to," He said, a little put off. He might not be able to kill this unlucky victim of his, but he did still have his mission to think about. He'd already messed up enough as it was. He had to make sure that nothing distracted him now, even if it was in the package of this delectable morsel.

Marik grabbed the other person and pressed his body flush against his own instantly as he dived once again into the dark shadows. More footsteps. Damn it! Evidently the gods weren't in the mood to grant him good luck tonight, he growled silently. And of course it seemed like everyone in this fucking house had to be up! Marik tightened his grip on the dagger and his captive's waist as the footsteps approached. If this brat even thought about crying out for help he'd be dead.

His heartbeat increased as the footsteps approached, until he thought if it grew any louder the one nearing the two of them would hear. Strangely, Marik couldn't feel the frantic heartbeat of his captive. It struck him as odd and out of place, but he pushed the thought to the back of his mind. He had other problems to concentrate on, mainly, the big one growing ever closer. If he didn't handle this situation with precision, everything could be ruined. Damn it! Why the hell were so many people wandering around this house in the middle of the night anyways?

As the sound of footsteps increased, Marik strained his eyes to make out the approaching figure and his ears to hear if it was a bodyguard this time or another nobody. He was ready for anything, except for the flash of blinding light as the newcomer flicked on a light switch.

As soon as he could deal with the pain Marik forced himself to open his eyes. He'd made yet another stupid, amateur mistake, but maybe it wasn't too late! Maybe he could fix this all and still accomplish his mission! He just needed to kill the meddling interferer!

He meant to look at the intruder, but Marik's attention was diverted to the person he held pressed against his own body, his captive, as he saw him for the first time. A teenager, probably not too far apart from his own age, with wild, spiked silver hair and cold brown eyes. Immediately danger signs flashed off in Marik's head, especially as he beheld this teen's dangerous smirk.



Marik glance at the other person still standing in the hallway and now siren's blared in his head as everything screamed at him to get the fuck out of here!

The intruder in the hallway was a mirror image of the teen in his arms, but softer and wearing the look of fear Marik had expected to witness in his captive's face.

Before he understood what was going on, much less had processed anything but for the fact that he was royally screwed, Marik's "captive's" elbow slammed into the center of his chest with enough force to expel the air from his lungs and send him stumbling backwards, dropping the dagger and releasing the teen as he clutched at his chest. A fist connected violently with his face again and again, breaking his nose and sending hot blood gushing down his chin.

Marik spun around wildly, wide-eyed and clutching at the shattered mess of his once beautiful face and nose. Blood had dripped into his left eyes and anything that he could manage to see was spinning and fuzzy. Pain blinded him and confused him even more, making most thoughts impossible, other than the frantic need to get the hell out of here! His dagger, where was his dagger? If he could just get his weapon-!

"Looking for this? What was it that you had said to me? That you would start with small cuts and then chop off limbs? What a brilliant idea." A dark chuckle, that even in his state sent shivers down Marik's spine. Then pain. Pain in his arm, and suddenly he was on the rug in the floor, which strangely enough in the light now looked like the color of deep crimson blood-

(Or was that his own?)

curled in a fetal position, crying out at kick after fiery kick was delivered to his ribs.

"Thought you could kill me, hmm? Too bad isn't it? Now you get to die!" He screamed and something broke, and he heard that dark laughter again, so cold, so cold! Icy laughter that echoed in his mind and promised unimaginable horrors and chilled his very soul.

Marik numbly thought that this was not how it was supposed to be, that their roles should be switched and it should be him delivering the blows, holding all the cards and the power and the other on the floor, before more pain shot like a rifle through his body and he gratefully succumbed to the embrace of black unconsciousness.


"You?" Widened cerulean eyes narrowed quickly in disgust as the question was spat at him. Of course, Marik had been expecting to receive this sort of reaction. His appearance always seemed to be the exact opposite of what was expected.

"I send for a hitman and this is what I get? Is this some sort of joke?" He almost sighed. Just once he wished that someone wouldn't take one look at him and think that there must have been a mistake.

He understood why it was so hard for his employers to wrap their minds around the idea of a person that looked like him being a highly skilled assassin, but that didn't make the same reaction he received time and time again any less tiresome. They all expected to get a muscle head on steroids, not tiny, skinny Marik. And he was beautiful, which was also not expected. With his bronze, sun-kissed body, long flowing golden hair, and exotic, one of a kind lilac eyes, he looked more like some sort of male model, not a hardened killer. Still…

"It's no joke, Kaiba-san. He is the one you sent for. He is Malik," Rishid said from his right. From the look on Kaiba's face, he obviously did not believe this to be true. Well, Rishid had tried his luck. Not it was Marik's turn.

"In this sort of job, huge bulking muscles are not helpful. You need to be lithe and slender, swift and able to move around stealthily. It's for this reason that many assassins are actually female," Marik replied tactfully. He kept his voice smooth and calm and friendly. He'd learned that it was much easier to keep your employer happy and thinking that he was in charge instead of trying to undermine his authority. Especially for someone as used to having power as Kaiba Seto.

"Should that make me feel better? Or maybe I should get a woman to do this job for me?" Kaiba sneered.

"Would you like for me to prove my skills?" Marik retorted quickly with a grin. Before he could prove anything he felt Rishid's hand on his shoulder to hold him back. He turned to face the larger man, who shot him a look and Marik's grin faded. Of course. Keep your employer happy.

"I assure you Kaiba-san, Malik-sama is very skilled. You won't be disappointed," Rishid soothed. Doubt still shown clearly on Kaiba's face, but his angry expression melted into a cocky smirk, full of arrogance, as he laced his fingers together under his chin.

"He better be. I paid a lot of money for this. Now, let's move onto business…" Kaiba opened a large briefcase at his feet and shuffled through a few objects before apparently finding what he was looking for, He took out a manila file and tossed it to Marik. He deftly caught it in mid-air, then opened the file to see who would be his unlucky victim this time. He recognized the face that glared up at him as a mob boss who'd been quickly rising through the ranks to become quite well known. Immediately he caught onto Kaiba's problem, and exactly why he would want this specific person killed.

"He's become quite powerful recently and very popular, and it's proving to be problematic for me and my company. He needs to be gotten rid of," Kaiba explained shortly. Of course. So this other mobster was competition for Kaiba and KaibaCorp.

Kaiba himself was a powerful mobster as well, arguably the most powerful around. He dealt with activities that brought in the big money. The weapon and drug trafficking, and even smaller things like the bringing of illegal aliens into the country, for a price of course. Kaiba had gotten enough money from his illegal activities to start his own company, KaibaCorp, which produced machines having to deal with holograms. But all that was just a clever cover to keep the police away. Underneath its facade, KaibaCorp was a huge network of smaller groups of mob bosses who all worked under Kaiba. KaibaCorp and its boss were huge. If this mobster Kaiba wanted him to get rid of was powerful enough competition to make him nervous, then Marik wondered exactly how mighty this other competitor must be. He felt his mouth stretch into a half-smirk. Hmm… maybe this would be interesting…

"Alright, I'll do it. When do you want me to go?" Marik questioned eagerly.

"The very moment you are able to. That is, if you don't think you'll get yourself killed. I wouldn't want all my money to go to waste," Kaiba answered, smirking evilly. Marik flashed a chilling grin of his own right back.

"It'll be worth your every penny. I'm the very best there is. No one ever survives an encounter with me," Marik said smugly. Oh, would he show Kaiba. He was the great Marik Ishtar, known to the world as Malik. Kaiba may be the most powerful mob boss, but Malik was the most feared name among all hitmen. And he would prove it to the rich brat in front of him gladly.

As Marik left the room with Rishid he took one more look at the file in his hands. There was the picture of his target again, a man with white hair and grave brown eyes. An arrogant smirk played across his lips. The file stated his name as Bakura.

Bakura, I'll be making your acquaintance soon. And then I'll be sure to wipe that smirk right off your face.


He awoke in darkness. For a few seconds, he thought that maybe the whole night had been a dream. Then came the pain. Agonizing, throbbing, wild pain that made him squirm and whimper for it to go away. His head and face felt like someone had taken a hammer and smacked him around with it more than a few times. Every breath he took brought intense pain to his chest, and even the slightest movement felt like knives were being embedded into his chest. Blood caked his body and clothes, and had he been able to withstand the pain enough to look at his appearance he would have been repulsed. Instead he lied still, curled up on the floor with his arms wrapped around his ribs, softly whimpering.

Marik didn't know for how long he lied there. The pain was too much for him to handle and he couldn't concentrate or think about what his next course of action should be. His inability to handle the pain was humiliating, but he could hardly think of the shame he would feel had anyone seen his weakness. It was all too much for him to handle at first.

After some time had passed, impossible to tell exactly how much when the room was drenched in darkness, the level of pain he felt either receded or his endurance to it increased. He still could not move, but was able to form together coherent thoughts. A step up, but not much of one.

He first took a quick inventory of his body and the state he was in. His face was pulverized, his nose in all likelihood broken, along with as many as three ribs. A multitude of cuts covered his arms, nothing too serious, but enough to have caused fatigue and large amount of blood loss. Obviously not enough to be fatal, but whether or not that was a good thing remained to be decided. As for movement, it would be hard, but quite possible.

Not that it looked as if it would help much, Marik thought wryly, amazed that he was able to find a sense of irony in this horrible situation. He was skilled at being able to see in the dark, but without even a hint of light that skill was useless. In this inky blackness he could make out nothing. It would be better to wait until he could see and to save his strength than to fumble aimlessly in the dark.

He winced as he shifted into a marginally more comfortable position, closed his eyes and went over the events that had caused his downfall. He'd been cocky. Cocky and arrogant, thinking that this would be a mission as easy as most of his were. He'd overestimated his skill and underestimated the job. And if that wasn't the very first lesson he'd learned too.

"Never make presumptions! Those are the very things that get you killed!"

Well, he'd made a very grave presumption and now he was paying for it. And even before making his dreadful error, he'd already messed up by bragging so carelessly to his employer. That haughty attitude of his had caused him to go into the mission thinking that there was absolutely no way he could fail. He wasn't the best hitman in Domino for no reason. His ratio of assignments completed to those failed was much better than most others, so it was almost a given that he would succeed here, as he usually did. And from that moment on things had only gotten worse.

Breaking into the house had been easy, but almost the very moment he'd stepped inside his luck had diminished and soon he'd bumped into a chair and made the noise that had caused the first intruder to come looking for the source of the clatter. It was as if he'd forgotten everything and was back on his first mission again! No, even that had turned out better than this. He was a disgrace.

Before his thoughts could go further, a blinding light erupted from the ceiling of the once dark room and Marik cried out in pain as his retinas burned and he moved his arm to shield his eyes, body protesting against the painful movement. Still making sure to cover his eyes until they adjusted to the sudden intruding light, Marik pushed himself off the ground, slowly, struggling not to cry out and show his weakness. The identity of the person invading the room was not known to him, and it was crucial that he not show how beaten down he really was. If he could at least make it appear like he still had his strength… maybe he would get lucky. And prevent his almost guaranteed death.

As he shakily stood, pushing his beaten and broken body much further than he had before, pain flared up everywhere, Intense, red hot pain and agony. He wanted to stop the activity that caused him such anguish, but if he did he might as well be pleading for his death. He had to be strong. Had to deal with this pain, like he had in the past. Gravity threatened to send him crashing down to the ground, but still he rose.

He had to remove his arm from his eyes to steady himself as the ground lurched when he took a tentative look. The light stung, but in comparison to the rest of his aching body it was bliss. His ribs screamed for him to stop the torment, and his brutalized nose throbbed with pain every few seconds. The pain was fierce and tried to overcome him, but Marik pressed on. He had already messed up. There was no hope of salvaging his assignment, but he would escape if the situation presented itself. He wouldn't allow his weakness to deprive him of his chance for freedom.

When his eyes adjusted to the light fully he took a quick glance at his surroundings only to see that there was nothing he could use as a weapon. He next focused on the one who had entered the room. He saw ivory white hair and assumed the worst. Bakura.

"Oh! I didn't mean to startle you! Please sit down before you hurt yourself!" The intruder said. The sincerity and worry in the voice perplexed Marik, and he wondered if he suffered from a concussion along with his other injuries. Assuming his head was fine, unless the man was acting as he had in the hallway, this person was not Bakura. The idea didn't cause Marik any measure of relief. At least with Bakura he knew what to expect. This new person was a riddle, one most important to solve. And fast. Nice or not, Marik had learned his lesson well that looks and actions could be deceiving in this house. He wouldn't make the same mistake again.

"Please sit down! I'm Ryou, not Bakura!" The white haired teen pleaded. Marik warily looked him over again. It was indeed true that this teenager was not Bakura. His appearance was exactly the same, softer somehow but still alike, but his eyes and face shone genuine worry. Worry and apprehension. No, this was not Bakura, but the other teenager from the hallway, the catalyst of his downfall.

"So? You think just because you told me your name I'll trust you?" Marik sneered, voice hoarse and raspy. Such a normally simple activity cause him to immediately begin coughing. Pain erupted from his chest and he gasped sharply and bent over, clutching at the area emanating the pain.

"Please! I have food and medicine! I just want to help," The intruder, Ryou, said. Marik heard him approach but he couldn't move. He knew that he needed to get away, but his coughs racked through his body and caused him more pain, and he couldn't stop. For all he knew this teen could have a weapon and be planning his death and he could do nothing because he was so weak!

"Here. It's only water. I promise." Against his better judgment, Marik grabbed the cup that was offered to him and greedily drank from it. The raucous coughing stopped but the water did nothing to ease him of his agony. The teen that looked so similar to the one he'd been assigned to kill gently took him by the arm and helped him to sit on the ground. His body still ached but the fiery burn that the action of standing had caused faded.

"What are you doing?" Marik questioned once his coughing was finally under control, regarding the person sitting across from his suspiciously. The faintest pink color appeared on Ryou's porcelain cheeks as the boy ducked his head. His white hair fell in front of his eyes momentarily until he brushed it away and smiled.

"I'm helping you," He answered sweetly. Marik stared at him with incredulous wonder.

"Don't you realize what I am? I'm an assassin. I was sent here to kill someone," He said slowly, as if he were talking to a child.

"I know," The teen answered.

"Then why would you be helping me?" Marik questioned. Instead of answering, Ryou busied himself with a pack he had sat beside his legs. He opened it and took things one at a time out. The first was a bottle of water, then came a large, white first aid kit. After those items he pulled out a plate covered in plastic wrap with what appeared to be spring rolls on it. Marik watched him intently to be sure that nothing more came out of that package that could be a weapon. Nothing did, and his tense body relaxed slightly.

"I'm helping because I want to. Because I don't believe that you should just be left here to suffer when you're in pain," Ryou answered finally. Marik moved his searching gaze back up to the pale teenager in front of him. He gazed behind his soft smile and into his inviting brown eyes for any sign of deceit or cloaked anger, any kind of ill intent at all, but he could find none. The boy's mentality was as innocent as his appearance suggested, unless he was more adept at hiding those poisonous thoughts than Marik was at finding them. And Marik knew that if there had been even one murderous thought he would have sensed it. It was his life after all.

When he chose not to speak Ryou unwrapped the plate with the spring rolls and offered one to him. He eyes it first, then gingerly reached out to grab it and brought the food to his nose. He carefully opened the spring roll to not get any of it on him and looked at the insides. No meat. Good. He gave it a sniff to be careful, but the food smelled as it should. He took a slow, deliberate bite and chewed thoughtfully, making sure to taste it thoroughly. Once he was positive that the offered food wasn't poisoned, he wolfed the spring roll down and grabbed a second one.

He was mid-way through the second one when Ryou burst out laughing. His body tensed and Marik stopped his chewing immediately. He inspected the second spring roll to find anything out of the ordinary, but nothing presented itself to him. Next he glared suspiciously at the one who had given him the food.

"What?" He asked irritably.

"Funny," Ryou laughed cheerfully. "The way you eat."

"You think something as important as checking for poison or a concealed weapon is funny?" Marik deadpanned. Ryou's laughter abruptly cut off. As his face fell drastically Marik felt a sense of achievement.

"P-poison?" He squeaked, "Y-you think I would..."

"Poison my food? Yes," Marik answered, certainly not missing the troubled look of horror that came to the other's face. "That or weapons. A razorblade maybe. As I'm sure you can imagine, it wouldn't be very enjoyable to hastily bite into your food and have your mouth be mutilated. Something like that causes a lot of damage and blood. And it's deadly effective, unless of course the aim was to get information." Marik watched his face carefully, noting every twitch and flicker of emotion that passed. The other teen had paled considerably and looked utterly repulsed, and strangely enough, as if he were close to fainting. This was amusing. He hadn't even said anything exceptionally grisly, and his companion already looked this queasy? Had the kid never seen a gory horror movie?

"People actually do that?" Ryou asked quietly.

"More often than you would think. But shouldn't you already know about that? From you close resemblance to Bakura, I would assume the two of you are related. You should know better than most what he does," Marik phrased carefully, watching intently with his inquisitive lilac eyes.

"Bakura's not-! He-! ...He doesn't do those sort of things," Ryou mumbled almost inaudibly. He lowered his head and his fluffy white bangs fell to obscure his troubled brown eyes. Marik inwardly smirked. Bingo.

"I-I'll just leave this here. Nice to meet you." Without allowing Marik to catch a glimpse of his face, Ryou got up and hurriedly removed himself from the room, leaving the water bottle, the first aid kit, and the spring rolls. Marik watched his retreating form with interest, faintly amused by the loud sniffles he heard coming from the other teen before he left the room and shut the door, presumably locking it.

So... Bakura was just as bad as he had presumed. Made sense. Almost all mob bosses were. It came with the territory. And Ryou knew it. The quiet, ashamed and almost fearful tone of voice, the way he averted his eyes and kept his face hidden, his abrupt exit, and the stiff movements he'd used to leave all pointed out that Ryou was quite aware of what was going on. And Marik had gained another interesting piece of knowledge. These two teens, Bakura and Ryou, were related. Ryou hadn't denied it when he asked if they were. From the huge similarities between the two of them and the way Ryou had defended Bakura, Marik guessed they might even be as close as brothers.

Suddenly the events that had caused his downfall and capture all made sense. A large amount of the responsibility for this horrible situation was his fault, but a portion of it was Kaiba's as well. If the man had bothered to tell him that his target had a sibling that looked exactly like him, perhaps he wouldn't have been so confused by the similarities between his victim and the intruder. If he got out of here, he would throttle the rich mobster.

Speaking of escape, since Ryou had left Marik looked around the room he was trapped in for the first time. It was a small, square, nondescript room with grey brick walls and a hefty, bolted steel door. At the upper part of the door was a small window, about fifteen inches across and eight inches tall, with three chunky vertical metal bars dividing it. The room looked like a solitary prison cell, was even complete with a toilet and sink in the upper right corner of the room and an old threadbare cot in the left one opposite. And I'm the prisoner, Marik thought dryly.

Seeing as no one else was coming to visit him in his cell, Marik grabbed the first aid kit Ryou had brought. He needed to be prepared for if the not-so-nice brother came to see him. Even if the only thing this kit would give him would be some gauze pads and band-aids, at least it would be better than what he had now. Which was nothing, since he'd been stripped of all his equipment. Smart man, this Bakura. He wasn't going to let there be any mistakes. Of course, Marik still had a few surprises up his own sleeves…

Marik couldn't help but to smirk when he opened the kit. Evidently Ryou had also come to the conclusion that a few band-aids and a gauze pad wouldn't be extremely helpful as well, because the first aid kit was packed. There were gauze pads and band-aids, but there were also spools of athletic, waterproof, and sterilized tape for bandaging wounds, antibiotic creams, and what looked like pain relief medication, among other things. Nothing he could use to arm himself against Bakura of course, unless the male was dimwitted enough allow himself to be poisoned. But it was something, and he had never been one to turn aid down. Not when he really needed it. More useful was that it looked like he had an ally in Ryou.

He picked up the telltale bottle of medication and turned it with interest. Codeine. That wasn't over the counter medication. You needed a prescription. Interesting. Did Bakura deal with the illegal sale of prescription drugs also? The idea sounded likely. And if so, had Ryou filched these from his brother's stash? Very interesting indeed. From the little Marik had seen of him, Ryou seemed like the type to play by the rules. Was this a rebellious streak?

The bottle of codeine had a rolled up tube of paper on it. When he unrolled it he saw hastily written directions on it. The kanji tilted downward and had obviously been written in a hurry, but the strokes still managed to be graceful and neat. Marik sniggered, though it hurt his chest to do so. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought a girl had written it. The nicer of the two look alike brothers had a feminine sort of grace about him, so it didn't surprise him all too much to see the girlish handwriting.

The paper said that each pill contained 30mg of codeine, and that he was able to take one every four hours and to have no more than eight a day. The pills would help to reduce his pain.

He dry-swallowed one of the small, ordinary circular white pills easily, then placed the bottle back and set about methodically cleaning and bandaging each of his wounds with the items in the kit. This work was easy, and his mind wandered. He'd been lucky to have his visitor be Ryou. He was still unsure about the teenager that had helped him, but he doubted that he had to worry too much. Ryou appeared to be harmless. The one he really had to worry about was Bakura. He still had no clue as to what the powerful mob boss would do to him, but it wouldn't be anything good. He needed to be prepared for when his visitor was the cruel brother, so he truly was lucky that the nice one had given him these supplies.

When he finished he made his way to the think cot and lied down on it to rest. He felt tired, and he seemed to be safe for the time being, so he would take the time to sleep and regain his strength. Until he could escape, or his captor would come to decided his fate, there was nothing else to do.

Yay for first chapter awesomeness! And it was awesome, was it not? Well the next chapter will be even better, heeheehee! Like I said, I'm really liking this idea of mine. Like, a lot. So much so that I even did research for it! (Which I normally never do) I had to research pain medication for broken bones and came up with codeine. Yay for research! Anyways, please review, because reviews make me very happy!