Errr…. Hi?

Bet you all thought I had abandoned you, huh? Yah, me to.


There wasn't much to look at in the Cairo International Airport gift shop. It was a fairly nice shop nonetheless, bright and open and filled with rows of magazines, books and pyramid shaped trinkets. But, the fact remained; no matter how nice it was it had never been designed to be anything more than a gift shop. Just a place to buy a book or a last minute, low budget present before heading out into Egypt.

It was not supposed to keep someone amused for more than a few minutes at a time. This was something Ryou had discovered after a scant half hour of wandering. In that amount of time he had just completed his third lap, and was beginning to feel the twinges of absolute boredom that was thrumming deep within his mind.

That was 2 hours ago.

Now, Ryou was going insane. Instead of pacing the room as he had earlier, Ryou tucked himself into the far corner of the shop, and had taken to leafing through a book called Tourism Egypt that he had found tucked between two romance novels. Ryou had pressed himself close into the minimal shadows of the shop, and ducked his head from the cashier who had been flashing Ryou dirty looks for the last 45 minutes.

Even as the boredom increased to an unbearable level however, the nervousness that rolled like a thousand butterflies in the pit of Ryou's stomach kept his mind alert. It felt as if he had been waiting in the small room for far too long to avoid suspicion. At any moment airport security was going to come and drag him of to some dark, soundproof room for 'questioning'. It wasn't safe to look like you were up to no good in an airport.

But Ryou had nowhere else to wait until Bakura came back, and Ryou had figured it was better to look nervous in a gift shop, than guilty in front of security. At least here it just looked like he was trying to steal a book on Egyptian tourism, instead of a plane.

The butterflies in Ryou's stomach turned to lead weights as his eyes darted for the thousandth time to his watch. Plane hijacking. When on earth had his life turned into this? Ryou Bakura, International Terrorist, nice to meet your acquaintance.

Good lord.

The plan to rescue Yugi and Yami had seemed ideal in its simplicity. Go to Scotland and take Great Britain apart stone by mossy stone until their friends were safe. However, there had been one debilitating flaw: How to get from Egypt to the British Isles with no money, no visa and no passports. They couldn't just buy plane tickets, and the rusted out jeep that Malik had found would not carry them over 2 bodies of water and across Europe. They were, for all intensive purposes, stuck. Yugi's transport spell had been deliberately designed to be just as much a prison as it as a salvation.

It had been Malik who presented their present solution after hours of heated argument. Kaiba Corp. had buildings scattered all across the globe, and the much beloved CEO kept jets in most of the major cities for easy transportation, Cairo included.

"We'll steal the plane," Malik had said, lips spreading wide into a Cheshire grin, as if it would be that easy. "Be in and out before Rich-Boy even notices it's gone."

Predictably, Bakura had loved the idea. And why wouldn't the Thief King be interested? It wasn't too often he got to steal something with a seven digit price tag. Neither of Ryou's companions seemed to understand the consequences that were so intimately linked with hijacking a plane. They had even scoffed when Ryou had started to throw around words such as "terrorism" and "life in prison".

A tinny buzz echoed along the smooth, white walls of the airport. Ryou jumped at the sound. His palms began to sweat and they shook violently placed the book back on the shelf, turning towards the door. He squared his shoulders against the accusatory glare the women behind the counter gave him as Ryou passed. He knew that she was searching his tee-shirt for any book shaped lumps. Ryou passed her what he hoped was a soothing smile and walked towards security.

The 11:20 flight from Chicago should have landed and unloaded by now. Ryou could hear the distant, thunder of hundreds of feet as they shuffled towards the narrow doorways that lead to the baggage claim. The flight was large, one of the biggest planes to pass through Cairo International. So when the mass exodus of people filed through the narrow doorway past security, Ryou struggled to find the familiar shock of bone white hair.

The fact he couldn't see Bakura caused Ryou's heart to leap into his throat. When Bakura had left Ryou in the gift shop, he had left to sneak into the airports unloading bay. It was a feat Ryou wasn't positive it was possible. Airport security was incredible thick, and while Bakura was good quite possibly the best a large part of Ryou's mind was certain that he would fail.

But, there he was. He weaved through the crowd effortlessly; entirely ignorant of the fact the crowd like canned sardines. Now at the front of the crowd, Bakura led the way down the hall to baggage claim, his hands stashed carelessly in his pockets. He glanced up once as he passed Ryou, and gave his light a nod in greeting. Ryou smiled and he raced up to Meet Bakura, as if he was just meeting a relative at the airport.

The mass of people who had acted as their camouflage soon thinned out as the long snake-like baggage carousals came into view. Bakura slung an arm around Ryou's shoulder as they passed the rainbow parade of suitcases. Instead he led them out of the airport, and into the blistering heat of midday Egypt.

The moment the sliding doors hissed closed behind them, Ryou was blasted by the sounds of airport. Inside the long, cement building the air was still and isolated. But outside, it was sensory overload. The tangy smell of exhaust from dozens of Taxi's and tour buses, a sea of tourists and locals that walked in every direction, each with an urgent destination in mind. The roar of airplane engines as they took off from the tarmac deafened, and completely covered the monotone of voices that wove through Ryou's mind.

There was a cheap metal bench a few feet from the door. Forgotten behind the shadow of a large bus stop, Malik had quickly discovered that over half the bench was all but invisible to airport security. The cement walls and tin roof of the bus stop was in direct conflict with the video cameras that had been posted strategically throughout the airport. Bakura slouch low on the bench, and tried to press himself as close to the hidden corner as he could. Ryou gingerly sat down on the sun-soaked metal. He carefully turned his body towards the camera, and tried to block Bakura from sight.

"Did you get one?" Ryou hissed.

Bakura yawned and reached his arm up to rest on the back of the bench by Ryou's neck, the very picture of ease. "It actually sounds like your doubting me Ryou." He said, shaking his head with a mocking frown. "I'm wounded."

Ryou rolled his eyes and Bakura dug his free hand into the inner pocket of the light, white jacket he was wearing. It wasn't one that Ryou recognized, and from the too tight fit through the shoulders, it was a recent acquisition. Ryou could see why Bakura had swiped it. The inside pocket, was less of a pocket and more of a zippered access to the jacket lining. And the lining was filled with thin leather wallets of all sizes and colours.

Step one, Complete.

Ryou thought as relief swept through him like a warm cup of tea. It didn't mater that step one was by far the easiest and least illegal of the activities on Today's agenda. The fact they had succeeded in even doing one thing made this inconceivably stupid plan actually seem possible. "How may do you have in there" Ryou asked, reaching out to thumb one of the many spines inside the jacket.

Bakura shrugged as he pulled the zipper shut, readjusting his jacket so the weight was distributed equally across his thin frame. "little more than a dozen I think. Give or Take some. Idiots make it far too easy, just reach and grab."

"As long as no one noticed you"

Ryou yelped as Bakura slapped the back of his head none to gently "Again with the bitching" Bakura said and his mocking frown turned into a scowl. "I've only been doing this before your family tree was even a nut. As long as no one noticed you?! Get your head out of your ass."

"Sorry". Ryou said, and placed his hand on Bakura's leg, unsure if the other man was still joking around. "So do you think there's a pilot license in there?"

Bakura grunted. "Malik checked the flight registry. Kaiba crop hires a number of pilots, but apparently it's cheaper to have them fly commercial and then use the company jet back for the delivery, Always knew Kaiba was a stingy bastard."

"Bakura!"

But Bakura ignored Ryou as he slipped the jacket off and passed it to his light. Ryou draped it over his lap, and tried to be subtle as he slipped his hand into the lining pocket. "You're looking for brown leather with thick black stitching." Bakura said, as he rested his head against the back of the bench. "Smaller than the rest."

Ryou nodded. "Silver KC in the corner?"

"That's the one." Bakura sunk deeper into the hard, unforgiving bench, and tilted his face up to the pulsing heat of the sun, shutting his eye to soak up the heat. "Your turn Ryou. You'd better not screw this up."

Ryou took a deep breath as he flipped through the folds of the wallet. "I'll be fine," He said, and Ryou tried to keep the nervous throb out of the words. But judging from the disapproving look on Bakura's face however, Ryou knew he had been far from successful.

"East side parking lot, One hour Ryou." Bakura said shortly as he stood up from the bench, and the relaxed man Ryou was just getting used to was gone without a trace. "Do not make me come after your scrawny ass."

Dean Sutherland had been a pilot for a little over 3 years now, and almost all of this time he had been an over glorified currier for Kaiba Corp. This was something Dean wasn't sure he was proud of. The job paid well, but flying cargo between Egypt and Japan wasn't what he had imagined for his dream job. The sleep deprivation alone was probably going to but him in an early grave. Even though Dean was only 32, his wife, Katelynn was quite adamant that his black hair had started to gray at the temples. This was only made worse by the fact Dean didn't have to look in the mirror to know that if the bags under his gray eyes got any larger, he wouldn't need a suitcase.

14 hours on a public plane from his hometown, Chicago to Egypt. And Dean would have to wait another two hours before his own plane would be ready for liftoff. It added up to a good 24 hours without sleep, and after that it would be a motel room bed instead of being at home with his family. But it paid well, and for now that was all Dean cared about.

His legs felt like lead as Dean shuffled his way to the Starbucks booth in one of the airports waiting bays. He stifled a large yawn with the back of his hand, and fell into the line that wound to the left of the small, understaffed booth. There were a good five people in the way of Dean's caffeine fix, a thought that was almost enough to make Dean meltdown.

Resigned to wait, Dean rolled his shoulders in a desperate bid to release some of the tension there. He cast heavy eyes across the hall, and took in his surroundings. The airport looked like any other he had been to. Uncomfortable plastic seats that stretched in every direction, separated only by gates that lead to the planes outside. The Starbucks booth stood in the very center of the room, between the chairs and the many restaurants and duty-free shops that lined the far wall.

A nervous twitch had formed between Dean's shoulders however. It was an odd tingling sensation, like an itch he couldn't scratch, and it had been building since Dean had left baggage claim. It felt as if someone was staring at him, but the only people who cared about Dean's habits were in Chicago. Dean scrapped a hand across his face and tried to shake the cobwebs from his mind. Maybe caffeine withdrawal had made him paranoid. It would not have been the first time.

Or maybe Dean wasn't going crazy. Over by the Magazine stand, the oddest-looking teenager that Dean had seen in a long time was staring at Dean with very little shame. The kid was pale, quite probably the palest person he had ever seen, with long white hair that, despite the impossible colour, did not seem dyed. At first glance, Dean thought the kid, probably closer to teen, was an Albino. But his eyes were far to dark, a rich chocolate-brown.

The teen was biting his lip, and squinted owlishly in Dean's direction. The pilot ducked his gaze, more than a little uncomfortable by the attention. Maybe if Dean just ignored the problem it would go away, it seemed like a good plan. More than likely Mr. Creepy had just been looking for a friend, and not Dean. It was a possibility, it was a busy airport, and Dean knew for certain he didn't recognize the kid. That wasn't a face one forgot.

"Excuse me?"

Much to his chagrin, Dean jumped out of his skin at the sound of the voice directly behind him. There was no doubt who it belonged to, and Dean swore in his head as he turned around, and he put on the most charming smile he could muster as if he hadn't known the kid was stalking him. "Yah?"

"Are you Dean? Dean Sutherland?"

Great, Mr. Creepy knew his name. "I am." Dean said gruffly. There was not point in beating around the bush. Now that he was closer, Dean realized that the teen was tiny. He couldn't way more than 100 pounds soaking wet. Dean didn't know what he had been concerned about.

The teen smiled, warm and open, and any hesitation that had remained started to trickle away. "Thank goodness. I wasn't sure if it was you or not. I mean I have your photo, but ID photo's aren't always that great so I wasn't sure..."

"Excuse me?" Dean said, but he managed to keep his voice friendly as the kid rambled. "If you don't mind me asking kid, but who are you?"

The teen blushed up to his ears, and ducked his head. "S-sorry" he stammered, and wrung his hands. "I'm Ryou... and I think I've found your wallet."

Dean's hands flew to the back pocket of his worn jeans. Much to his horror however, his searching hands did not find the familiar lump of his wallet. Instead his finger's slipped into two ragged slits that ran along the bottom of his pockets. He had been picked! "Great." He swore, and he stepped out of the line for the coffee he could no longer afford. He had been next in line. "Isn't that just wonderful."

Despite the ever-increasing urge to hit something, Dean forced his attention back to Ryou. It took all his effort to keep the civil smile on his face. 'Thanks, I guess." He said, and his voice twanged with frustration. "Where'd you find it?"

Ryou shrugged. "Washroom floor. I was going to take it to security, but my brother's flight will be in soon and I have to meet him here. He'd be angry if I forgot about him, if he didn't get lost trying to find me, no sense of direction."

The kid was rambling again. Dean put up a hand to cut him short. "Do you have it with you?" he asked before Ryou had a chance to speak again. Maybe he could get his coffee before the line got to big again.

But Ryou's blush only grew deeper. " No, Sorry. It's in my car; I didn't expect to actually find you. I mean what are the chances of that happening? I was going to drop it off at the American embassy later. It isn't that far from our hotel."

At least the kid was being honest and hadn't just kept the wallet for himself. "Alright." Dean said with a huff. 'Why don't we go out to your car? There aren't any flights due for another 20 minutes or so. We'd make it back it in time for you to meet up with your brother."

Ryou's eyes flicked down to his watch, and a furrow formed between his brows. "Don't worry kid. We have plenty of time." Ryou nodded, but the nervousness didn't seem to fade. It left Dean to wonder what kind of brother the kid was picking up, than again it probably didn't take much to freak the kid out.

"The cash is gone I'm afraid." Ryou said as they walked through the busy airport towards the East Side Parking Lot. "But they left your Id's and Cards. It shouldn't be the end of the world."

"Should still cancel my credit card though" Dean said darkly, and rolled his eyes to the heavens. "Oh Katelynn is going to kill me"

"Katelynn?" Ryou asked

"My wife." Dean said. "I'd show you a picture, but you have my wallet."

The words hung in the air, and Ryou seemed only to sink further into himself at the mention of Dean's wife. The feeling of odd returned to Dean with a vengeance, but he ignored it as Ryou came to a holt in front of a dull red jeep that looked as if it had been left out in the sun and the sand one too many times. The frame was so rusted that it was hard to tell where the pain began and the metal corrosion ended. "This it?" Dean said trying to fill the awkward silence.

But Ryou didn't seem willing to say much more, but he bit his lip and nodded his head in response to Dean's question. Despite this however, Ryou made no movement towards unlocking the rust bucket. Dean felt the warm bubble of frustration build in his stomach. At this rate he was going to be late for take off, and wouldn't getting fired be the perfect ending to an amazing day. "Look kid." he snapped. "If you have my wallet, I really need you to get on with it"

Stars erupted behind Dean's eyes, and his words came out in a slurred mess. Fiery stabs of pain ricocheted from the top of his skull to the very tips of his toes. The entire world flashed a blinding white, before it all faded into blurred gray darks that danced across the parking lot, and made it impossible to focus on anything.

The last thing that Dean saw when he slumped to his knees was the worried face of Ryou as the teen leaned over him. But when even being on his knees was too much to handle, and Dean's vision tunneled around the edges, Ryou's face seemed to split into two. Dean's last thought before he landed face first on the burning, unforgiving asphalt was to wonder how it was possible for one Ryou to look so concerned while the other could look so evil.


"Help me get him up." Bakura snapped as he threw the heavy lead pipe into the back of the jeep. "We're too exposed out here. We have to clear out before someone spots us!"

Ryou shook himself like a dog coming out of water, and ripped his gaze from Dean's lax features. Despite the disapproval that he felt, Ryou yanked open the Jeep's passenger door, and pulled the seat forward to show the back seats. Bakura stooped down and wrapped his arms beneath Dean's armpits and around his chest to grab the pilot's wrists. Taking his cue, Ryou scurried round to grab Dean's ankles and together they stuffed the man haphazardly into the back seat.

They pealed out of the parking lot in a blur of burnt rubber, and Ryou felt himself relaxing now that they were out of the busy airport lot. He slumped into the threadbare material of his seat, overwhelmed by how boneless his body had become. He just stared blankly ahead as Bakura drove them around the airport towards the private structures. Inside however, Ryou found himself fighting to remain silent, especially as he was unsure if he was about to laugh or cry.

Ryou twisted around in his seat and tried to catch a glimpse of their passenger. A thin river of blood had trickled down Dean's hairline, and it left a red river that dripped down into his collar. "Did you have to hit him that hard?"

"Knocking someone out is an art Ryou" Bakura said gruffly and he shrugged one shoulder. "There's a fine line between awake, unconscious and dead. I know what I'm doing."

Ryou bit his lip, "Do we have any Tylenol at least?" he said and pulled open the dashboard and began to root through the compartment. But all he found was a ripped map and a package of tissues. Ryou pulled the tissues free and reached around as far as his seatbelt would allow, and he dabbed at the cut on Dean's scalp. 'His head's going to be killing him when he wakes up."

"He'll also be a mind slave, so what difference does it make?" Bakura said shortly, and he left no room to continue the conversation. They drove in silence, and Ryou continued his make shift first aid until Bakura jerked the wheel to the right for sharper than was necessary. Ryou cried out as he was thrown into the door, and found no protection from his mostly off seatbelt. "Bakura!" Ryou snapped as he pulled himself up off the door. Bakura chuckled, and barely gave Ryou a chance to recover before he stomped on the brakes in front of a large white washed and industrial metal hanger.

The building and adjacent runway were surrounded by an imposing chain link fence that stretched for miles in every direction. It stretched a good 10 feet into the air, and lines of razor-sharp bared wire, was twined in large bur tight circles along the top. There was no hope of climbing over the fence, not without loosing a pint of blood in the process. Parallel to the hangar doors however, was a thick steel gate that Ryou predicted was the only entrance to the Kaiba corp. private hangar. But even that was designed to be impenetrable, and was guarded by two of Kaiba's, for the lack of a better word, henchmen.

Tall and burly, they struck an imposing feature in fitted, black suits and mirrored sunglasses. Both seemed impervious to the stifling heat that had glued Ryou's light tee-shirt to his back. Both had their suits fully done up and their ties where tight and neat. It wasn't a sight Ryou had expected. Malik was supposed to have taken are of anyone between them and the plane. But the blond was nowhere insight.

At the approach of the jeep, both of the guards had snapped to attention, and eyed them with hostile attention. Ryou broke out in a cold sweat as they raised heavy assault rifles that Ryou doubted where for keeping out the wildlife.

"Bakura!" Ryou hissed as he tried to shrink as far down in the seat as he could. But he knew that if something happened, the rusted frame would give about as much protection as a sheet of paper. The guns rose a little higher, and Ryou's stomach lurched at the sound of a safety being clicked off. "Do something please!"

Bakura rolled his eyes and stuck his head out of his window. "Malik, get your ass out here. Princess over here is having a panic attack."

A loud snicker echoed from the shadows of the hangar. Ryou squinted into the bright light, and was barely able to make out the blurry features of the wayward blond. But as Malik came into the light, Ryou could see the millennium rod that was clasped tightly in his fist. As Malik approached, the tension slipped from the armed guard's shoulders as suddenly as oil from water. Their expressions went slack, and the tips of the rifles dropped to the sand. "Way to take away my fun Bakura" Malik wined petulantly as he slipped the rod back into his belt loops. " I wanted to see what he'd do."

"Hey!" Ryou cried, and Malik smirked in his direction.

"Not the time, Malik." Bakura snapped as he stepped out of the jeep and glanced around the hanger. "Is the perimeter clear? Or have you been to busy being an idiot?"

"Not very friendly." Malik said with a sigh. "It's clear. But there'll be a guard change in 20 minutes, so we need to be quick."

Bakura nodded. "It's good enough. Malik open the gate before we're caught. Ryou help me with your boyfriend before he wakes up."

Ryou blushed, but he dutifully followed Bakura's request. Together it wasn't too much of an issue to slide Dean out of the back seat, but his head collided less the gently with door frame when they tried to get any farther. Ryou winced at the rough treatment, but Bakura didn't seem to notice. Instead he crouched down and slung the pilot up over his shoulder and down his back like a sack of potatoes.

There was only one plane inside the hanger. A small, but lithe black jet with the Kaiba crop silver KC emblazoned on the tail. Bakura staggered as he entered the hanger, and grunted as Dean fell unceremoniously to the floor beside the door of the plane. "Opps?" Bakura said with a grin as he rolled his shoulders, his hand coming up to dig into the meat of the joint. 'He's heavier than he looks."

"Of course he is." Ryou said as he leaned Dean up against the wall, and rubbed his hand along Dean's skull to feel for potential damage. It didn't take him long to find the lump on his head, and the long welt that ran through it. Malik dropped down beside Ryou, and peeled back Dean's eyelid to get a glimpse at his pupils.

"We'll have to wake him up before I start." Malik said as Dean's head lolled back to his chest. '' 'Cause I don't know how good my control's going to be if he's unconscious."

"Potentially easier said than done," Ryou said, as he held bloodstained hands up to the light before he rubbed them clean on his jeans.

Malik's eyes widened at the sight. "How hard did you hit him?" he asked Bakura.

"Hard enough."

"Apparently." Malik said, and he reached out to slap Dean none to gently on the cheek. "Wakey, Wakey big guy."

There was no response. Ryou glared at Bakura as Malik started to slap Dean harder, and he shouted in the man's ear. But Dean remained stubbornly unconscious. "Seriously Bakura?" Malik drawled, "What, did you decide brain-dead was a necessary prerequisite for flying? Hate to tell you but it doesn't work that way."

Bakura flashed Malik the one finger salute. He crouched down in front of Dean and pulled the limp man up by the collar of his dark gray tee-shirt. Bakura ran bony knuckles along Dean's ribs, and pressed in ruthlessly deep when he reached the pilot's sternum. Dean released a soft, pain-filled moan, and curled inwards. "And that boys and girls" Bakura sneered as Dean's eyes fluttered under his lids "Is how to wake up an unconscious person.

"Freakin' know-it-all." Malik muttered under his breath as he pulled out the Millennium Rod.

"Ryou, wallet" Bakura barked as he stared at the key card lock on the jet's door. Ryou pulled Dean's identity card free of the thin leather and pushed it towards Bakura. Bakura yanked the card through the lock and grinned triumphantly as the red light on the lock flashed to green. "Jackpot!" He crowed, but at the sound of his voice the light on the consul flashed to yellow.

"Voice recognition failed" A monotone female voice echoed from the tinny speakers that no one had noticed before. "Please re swipe card and state name and identification number again."

"Trust Kaiba to be a paranoid bastard" Bakura said with a swear and turned his head over to Malik and Dean. "How much longer Malik?"

"Don't rush me," Malik said through gritted teeth. "Do have any idea how hard it is to control someone with a concussion?"

"Oh stop whining and get on with it."

They didn't have time for another childish argument; But Ryou knew there was little he could do that wouldn't add fuel to the fire. But...

Ryou paused as he edged closer the hanger's doors. It was hard to tell over top of all the squabbling, but Ryou was willing to put money on the fact he had heard a car come up. But that wasn't possible. By Malik's information, they should still have about 10 minutes left.

Ryou edged closer to the door, and peeked his head around the corner. Sure enough, a black sedan with heavy tinted windows had parked in front of the wide-open gate. Ryou scrambled away from the door and out of sight as a man and women in black suits and sunglasses climbed out.

"We have a problem!" Ryou said frantically as he turned back to Malik and Bakura in a desperate bid for attention. 'We have to clear out now!"

"What?!"

"Shift change was early," Ryou said in response to the unanimous question. "We gotta go."

Malik swore and the Millennium rod glowed brighter in response. A bead of sweat ran down his chin and Dean's eyes slowly began to focus on Malik and glaze over with a Mind slave's attention. Ryou noticed with a grim shudder that Dean's pupils were still grotesquely blown and unequal. But Dean was standing, and with Malik's frenzied prompting he worked on the jet's lock.

The door opened with a mechanical hiss, and a metallic ramp fell to the cement floor with a crash. Ryou pushed Dean towards the doors before it had fully opened. His eyes grew double in size however as the sharp report of a rifle lodged a bullet a scant inch from his ear. Ryou scrambled back on his hands and knees, and nearly fell of the ramp.

Bakura growled and he whirled around to come face to face with the female guard that Ryou had seen earlier. "That was your only warning," she said coolly as she cocked the gun again and shifted so all four men were in her range. "Step away from the jet with your hands up or I'll shoot to kill."

"Get on the plane Ryou. Malik help him with Mr. Pilot." Bakura said and he crouched down low, his hands spread. 'Ill be there in a second."

"No! She has a gun!" Ryou shouted as Malik clambered onto the ramp and began to push Ryou and Dean into the plane. "Bakura! What are you doing!"

The women raised the gun, pointing the sight at Malik's back. But before she could get the shot off, Bakura rushed her, and grappled with her gun in an attempt to pull it free. But the woman wasn't going down without a fight, and she slammed a knee into Bakura's stomach. As Bakura doubled over, wheezing, she ripped the gun back and without even a blink it erupted with a thunderous bang.

Bakura cried out as the round dug deep into his shoulder, and red splashed the wall behind him. He staggered back, and fell to his knees as his good hand shot up to cover the wound.

"Bakura!" Ryou screamed. He leaped off the plane, and ran towards his dark. Before the women could get the gun around to make good on her shoot to kill promise, Ryou slammed his shoulder into her stomach and threw her off her feet. The women's head collided with the blood stained wall with a sickening crunch. And she slid like a rag doll down the wall, a streak of her own blood mixing with Bakura's.

"Ryou come on!"

Ryou jumped at Malik's harsh voice. He shook himself and watched with disturbing detachment as Malik slung Bakura's good arm over his shoulder to lead the barley upright man to the jet. But Bakura shrugged him off, despite the rivers of red that were running down his arm and stained his shirt. Ryou came out of his daze immediately and shouldered his way into Bakura's side, and pressed up close. He didn't offer the blatant support that Malik had, but provided stability, taking only the weight Bakura was willing to give.

The Jet came alive with an earth-shattering roar. Under Malik's control, Dean tore down the runway. He left the women's backup in his dust before they could organize enough to stop them. Ryou could hear the shots that ricocheted against the durable metal frame. Ryou tucked in closer to Bakura as the plane began to shake. He prayed to whoever was listening that the plane would hold, that a shot wouldn't fit the glass of the windshield.

"Hurry up Dean" Malik growled and he dug his nails into the newly made mind slave's shoulder. "Get us up, you idiot. Up!"

Dean pulled on the steering column and the nose of the plane shot up into the air, throwing them all to the floor. The trembling grew more violent as the jet lurched. But then it leveled, taking them to Scotland