Yami no Bakura: Tales Written in Blood
Bakura walked casually down an alleyway in New York, noticing, with some amusement, that the idiotic man with the horn rimmed glasses was still following him. It should have been abundantly clear that following him away from people-from witnesses-was the worst idea you could possibly have in relation to him.
/Don't hurt him./
Bakura snorted. /You really think we can get away without hurting him?/ he asked pointedly. /He's been following us for hours. He wants something, and I am not about to let him hurt you./ He felt Ryou cringe at the thought of pain-partly from his conditioning at the hands of various school bullies, partly from his memories of how Bakura used to be, how he used to hurt him.
/Can't we just...I don't know...lose him? Disappear into the Shadow Realm? He won't be able to follow us then./
Bakura clenched his jaw. /I refuse to be chased off when I haven't actually done anything wrong./
/Yet,/ Bakura conceded with a laugh. /And no promises that I won't,/ he added mischievously.
/No, of course not,/ Ryou laughed. Then Bakura felt Ryou's attention shift. /Who's that?/
Bakura's attention snapped back to the present. There was a man at the end of the alley-and a dead body. The man was staring at him-no, past him, to Bakura's pursuer. He had heavy eyebrows, and his apparent victim was missing the top of her skull. Bakura noted upon closer inspection that there didn't seem to be a drop of blood on him, that he could see, which made him doubt the man was the killer; no one could avoid every drop of blood, something he knew for a fact, having given up on trying.
Bakura heard the footsteps behind him pause, a muffled curse, the sound of someone dropping something metal...a gun? He felt Ryou's fear spike at the passing thought and caught glimpses of them being shot, blood and brain matter spraying onto the alley ground in slow motion, courtesy of Ryou's vivid imagination. /For Ra's sake, Ryou, if he was going to kill us, he would have done so hours ago. Calm down./
Bakura froze, his gaze moving from the man to the dead woman, his head tilted slightly. He suppressed a sneer, not wanting to get into a fight with this guy-he was clearly dangerous, the cut on the woman's forehead was too clean for the man to have never done it before. A serial killer.
Ryou had apparently lost the ability to think coherently. /Shadow Realm! Go! Please?/ His fear was infectious, making Bakura's body tense and his heart pound, even if he, himself, knew he could get them out of this.
The killer stood. The follower dove for the object he dropped. Bakura summoned the shadows, preparing to drop into the Shadow Realm at a moment's notice. Ryou was right; they were out of their league, here. He couldn't just summon a monster; for some reason, it was becoming increasingly difficult.
"I knew you were a liar," H.R.G. spat. Bakura glanced behind him just long enough to see a gun levelled in his direction, then turned back to the killer, chin raised defiantly, eyes narrowed. Just try. "Peter always had such faith in you, after he brought you to the carnival, but I always knew..." The man snarled.
/How the hell am I supposed to know?/ Apprehension added the edge to Bakura's voice, but even though he instantly regretted it, he offered no apology.
"You think I did this?" There was no shock in the-killer's?-voice, no defensiveness. Only tiredness, like he expected this reaction. Bakura could feel Ryou's heart go out to the man. /Dammit, Ryou, keep a lid on it! How do you know he's not just acting?/
/I just do./
"Who the hell else makes a kill like that, Sylar?" Bakura wondered why their pursuer hadn't shot at the supposedly dangerous man, then realized it was because he was in the way. He started to slide out of the way, hoping there was enough going on to be unnoticed, allowing the shadows to slip away from him.
"For fuck's sake, Noah," the killer-Sylar-snarled, losing his patience. "I don't need to kill to copy an ability anymore, you know that. Look at her." He nudged the body with his shoe. "The cut's not even completely clean. Since when have you known me to be that sloppy? Outside of my first?"
/So he used to be a killer, but he isn't anymore?/ Ryou surmised, his question rhetorical.
Bakura made it to the side of the alley, eyeing the exit on the other side of Sylar.
Noah laughed bitterly. "So, what? You got a copycat? Is that what you're gonna tell Peter? What are you gonna tell him about me?"
/He...expects to die? That doesn't seem right./
/Don't dwell on it, Ryou. It's just how some people are in these situations./ It was something he had seen before: men willing to throw themselves into battle, fully expecting to die, for whatever sense of duty or right and wrong that guided them. Bakura stepped forward hesitantly, shooting looks at Sylar, wondering if the man would let them pass. This was their chance to lose their unwelcome stalker, and he didn't want to miss it.
"I'm not going to kill you, Noah."
"That so? Why don't I believe you?"
"Because you're a heartless bastard with no faith?" Sylar's attention seemed to be entirely on Noah; he hadn't looked once in Bakura's direction.
That changed when Bakura made a mad dash for freedom. He caught a brief look of Sylar's face-the expression of shock was almost comical-and got about three feet past him when Bakura felt something tighten around his ankle and trip him. He was dragged backward across the rough asphalt, feeling glass cut into him on the way. At the same time, a shot was fired.
He flipped himself over when they stopped, trying to sit up only to find himself being forced down by an invisible force. Cursing in Japanese-which seemed to shock Noah, judging by his expression-and looked up to see that the bullet frozen in midair, less than an inch from Sylar's face, before it dropped to the ground in front of him.
Noah was equally surprised by this as by Bakura's language; he seemed to have expected something else.
Sylar cocked his head. "I told you I wouldn't kill you, Noah." He raised his hand and swept it quickly to the left.
Bakura's eyes widened as Noah was lifted off his feet and slammed into the brick of the building, head slamming against it with an audible crack before he slid down, not moving. He looked back up at Sylar, suddenly a lot more fearful of the force holding him down than angry. Just what the hell was going on?
"What are you looking at me like that for? I never said I wouldn't knock him unconscious. He's still breathing." Sylar looked proud of his own restraint and highly amused in turns. Bakura felt himself being lifted off the ground. "Now, as for you-"
They dropped through the ground, swallowed by a vortex of shadows.
A/N: What has my mind come up with now? An adventure of epic proportions, of course! I'd been reading through the Heroes fanfiction and just couldn't resist; I always figured Sylar and Bakura would get along just swimmingly. Read it, review it, tell me how to improve! Just don't flame. Brownies and kisses to all my readers!