Who? What? When? Where? Why?


I don't think this is something that will happen often, but yeah...

Oh, God, I feel sore all over.

It's a terrible ache that I felt -the kind that makes your muscles give up. It wasn't so bad when I wasn't trying to move, but even fidgeting around made knives shoot through my skin. It didn't help that I was cold, lying on something really hard and uncomfortable, like a metal surface. The feel of it on my exposed back made me want to vomit, so I guess it helped that I couldn't sit up; maybe the force of gravity would keep the contents of my stomach down.

I guess you could say it took me longer than it should have to realize that I was in a box. Yes, a box. Also, I was naked. Yes, one hundred percent buck naked, covered by a thin sheet that hardly even qualified as a blanket. So, uh, not the best situation to be in when you regain consciousness after a Shadow Game, y'know?

I felt cold sweat trickle down the back of my neck as my arms tried to stretch to the best of their ability in the allowed space. I estimated around five inches at either side of my body and around fifteen inches vertically. So, obviously, whatever I was lying in wasn't built for comfort.

No, no, no. What's going on? I thought desperately.

Did this mean I lost the duel? I mean, I didn't exactly remember winning it, which wasn't really a good sign as far as I was concerned. The last thing I remembered was Joey and Téa coming to cheer me on. I could vaguely remember getting the upper hand in the duel, but I don't remember either of our life points hitting zero. Oh, God... Viola said that if passed out before the duel finished then it would be an automatic defeat for me. I lost. Oh, my God.

Still, to be quite frank, I expected the experience of death to feel a bit more like an out of body experience and less like being trapped in a metal box. You'd think burning in the flames of hell as a punishment for losing would feel a bit more agonizingly painful, and a bit less cold -y'know, all things considered and all. I mean, at most, I just felt uncomfortable. Was the Shadow Realm full? Was this some kind of waiting list deal where I'd have to wait for someone else's eternity of hell to finish or something? Because first of all, that's contradictory, and second of all-

-what the fuck is that infernal noise? It sounded like someone was going around pushing a cart across the floor and then slamming it against the wall. The rolling and slamming reverberated all around me, almost like it was coming from the wall, and each time a slam sounded, the cycle would start again at an even closer point.

And to add to that, my butt was really, really cold. In fact, I was feeling cold in places I was unaware I even could feel cold. The only thing preventing me from shivering was the soreness in my muscles that overpowered the need to create warmth -well, either that or I was so cold my entire body was numb.

The slamming noise was right next to me when I heard the footsteps. Usually, when faced in a situation where I'm trapped with no hope at escape, I would welcome the sound of rescue, but this time, I was feeling incredibly vulnerable -a side-effect to having your boobs and privates out, unfortunately. I had this feeling that no matter who finally rescued me, I wouldn't be able to live this down. I mean, seeing as I was a teenage hermit before I fell into this coma, this wasn't something I thought I would ever have to deal with.

I held my breath when my surroundings became deathly silent. Was it over? Was I ignored? Forgotten? Did this mean I was saved? Or doomed? I really hated how I had absolutely no idea what was going on. It was the most powerless I'd ever felt in my life. Though, looking on the bright side, if we take all facts into consideration, this might just have been the most powerless I would ever have to feel, and I didn't know how beneficial that was to me at this particular moment.

I felt my whole body shake as the platform I was on began to vibrate; and in an abrupt and quick motion, it moved, and with it, the light, albeit a dull light, entered my eyes. Would it be weird if I wanted whoever was responsible for this to just put me back? Because I was not dressed and, if my hearing was still at its best, I was at least seventy-eight percent sure that the breathing above me sounded male.

"Found you," he remarked in a raspy voice that sounded half bored and half bemused. I tried to crane my neck to look at him, but my neck wasn't responding very well being as it was still sore from my duel. Still, something about that voice made me feel like I should have known who it was. However, as was its norm, my brain wasn't fully cooperating with me.

Trying to make my voice come out of my aching throat, I spat some words at the stranger. "Where… am… I?"

A chuckle rumbled from his chest. "Why, Lorna. Can't you tell? I mean, I'm sure you've noticed." He knew who I was. He knew my name. How the fuck did he know my name? Did he kidnap me? Was he a Guardian like Viola?

And noticed? Noticed what? Noticed… noticed… "Hell?"

He grunted and replied, "No, why don't you try being a bit more creative?"

I had no idea what he meant or what he was doing. I could hear the mystery boy rummaging behind behind my head, out of my limited field of vision. I could hear fabrics brushing against each other and something light and hard drop onto a table. What was he up to? I just hoped he wasn't planning on dissecting me on this… table…

Wait. Be more creative?

No. No.

He carted me out of the wall… No, he took me out of the wall… It was almost like I was in a drawer or something. Or a freezer.

No, first of all, fuck you. And second of all, that's impossible.

"Looks like you've figured it out." He came to stand right beside me. I couldn't see his face, but I could see his thin hips and his firm but bony, pale hands (you know the kind -perfect for squeezing the life out of you and all that jazz).

"A… morgue. I'm in a morgue…" I spoke quietly, trying to make sense of it. I wasn't dead. I had a pulse and blood pressure… I was breathing, for fuck's sake. I was way too alive to be in a morgue. Who would be sick enough to put me in a morgue freezer? Unless… Unless I wasn't in a morgue, and this guy kidnapped me to perform some sick experiment on me. Who would kidnap me though? And how? I mean, I'm pretty sure I was with Joey up until I lost consciousness, and those abs of steel spoke for themselves -and those ripped arms…Not that I was looking, of course! It was all merely scientific observation… for science.

"Hmm… I can see you're thinking hard about something," he said, interrupting my thoughts. "Don't hurt yourself. You got it right this time. Try not to get too creative." You know, I wanted to talk back at him, but seeing as I was having really weird pervy thoughts about a boy younger than me, maybe it was good that he stopped me before I got too creative… for science.

"So, an actual morgue, huh?" I muttered, blinking my eyes slowly. Was it weird that even my eyelids were sore? "But I didn't die, right?"

"Well, by your strange definition of death? No, you're very much alive."

"And who are you?"

Slowly, he leaned forward, his head hovering over my face, and his pale, white hair dangling over my face. Wait. Wait, wait. He smirked at me upon seeing the recognition on my face (I'm pretty sure my face went through around ten different shades of green), looking like a child who just squashed a bug under a magnifying glass. "I don't think I need to tell you that, Lorna."

Pardon my French, but - "FuckFuckFuckFuckFuckFuckFuck." The words were spoken under my breath like a hiss, but I saw his grin widen significantly. I felt myself shudder a bit under the insignificant sheet covering my bits and unmentionables. No, no, no, no. This is the last person I wanted to see. "I m-m-mean… n-n-no, who a-a-are you?" I asked, my voice rising an octave above its usual pitch. I didn't exactly know why I wanted to keep up the façade of ignorance when I knew that he knew that I knew exactly who he was. I was actually surprised the British accent didn't tip me off earlier…

Bakura. In case the white hair, British accent and all-around shitty personality didn't tip you off. And it wasn't the cute, dorky one either; it was the asshole -the shitty fucking dickwad that sent people to the Shadow Realm for no reason and removed Maximillion Pegasus's actual fucking eyeball. Oh, God. Now, I was having serious, real worries about him dissecting me on this table for shits and giggles.

"Come on, Lorna." Ugh, stop saying my name like that. If this creepy, bug-eyed, ancient Egyptian asswipe tries to touch me, I will scream bloody murder. I don't care how much my throat hurts. "I'd enjoy your act much more if you were a more competent actress, but I don't have time for your nonsense. I won't humor you with introduction. We have to leave this hospital quickly." He turned around and walked back to wherever he was rummaging earlier, walking back to me in less than a minute and dropping something heavy on my chest. "As much as it would satisfy me to watch you lose every ounce of your dignity, we don't have time for that, so you should probably get dressed."

We don't have time? Time for what? What part of the season was this? If Bakura was in the hospital, could this have been after his injury? Wait. That meant that Mr. Muto was here! If I could only get dressed quickly and find him, I could get away from this creep. I knew I wanted to find him earlier, but not like this, y'know? I kind of expected my first meeting with him to be one where we were both dressed. Maybe I could trap him in an alleyway like Marik with a motorcycle and everything -well, maybe not like that, but I hoped I would at least feel more dignified than this.

I reached over my chest for the pile of clothes he had just dropped. They weren't the clothes that I was wearing in the morning, but they were still clothes that I bought with Téa. Where did he get these? There was even a pair of underwear, and although I wouldn't have minded a bra, it was better than nothing. I mean, beggars can't be choosers. The first order of business was covering my chest, so I grabbed the baggy neon pink shirt and slid it over my head.

"You know," Bakura started, his voice coming from somewhere over my head, "you're not attractive enough to warrant my attention, so you don't have to keep trying to hide." I heard his steps coming closer to me, stopping just beside me. He leaned over me again and gave me a sinister grin. "I promise I won't rape you, if that's what you're afraid of." Oh, buddy, I'm afraid of much worse things coming from you.

Nevertheless, whether or not he was trying to give me privacy, he walked away from me, and I was just glad not to have his breath on my face. I braced my hands on the metal surface below me and heaved myself into a sitting position. I craned my neck around, to examine the room and to locate Bakura. I didn't care what he said; I didn't want him watching me put on my delicates. The psychopath in question was leaning over a dissection table rummaging through a bag. From what I could see, the dissection table didn't have a corpse on it, so that was a bit of a relief.

Feeling my heart flutter in anxiety, I grabbed the delicatesI had been provided with and tossed away the blanket swiftly to put them on. All the while, I cast nervous glances at Bakura. I didn't trust him -not by a long shot. Though, true to his word, he didn't seem to intend to turn around again. I didn't know whether to feel relieved or offended. It kinda makes you think about how much self worth I actually had if some weird sick part of me actually wanted the crazy murderer to check me out. Ugh, just go fall in a ditch, Lorna.

Reaching across my legs, I noticed something curious, though. My legs didn't quite look the same as they did that morning; they didn't have the same feel as they did either. They had been aching for quite some time, and it was becoming increasingly clear what the cause of that stinging sensation I was feeling up and down my legs was. My legs were covered in red warts and blisters, like bug-bites or burns; I couldn't tell which it was, but they were all over my skin. My feet looked especially swollen.

It was like something cold had slipped into my gut and it was freezing me from the inside. I felt chilly all of a sudden and my breathing became shallow. Had those thingsdone that to me? Wasn't their effect supposed to wear off at the end of the duel? Why hadn't it? Why was I covered in scars? I held my breath as I slowly lifted the hem of the shirt to gaze down at my abdomen. As I had expected, not even there had I been spared. The remnants of that duel were everywhere on my body, tattooed onto my skin so I would never forget about… her.

"Are you done yet?" I had almost forgotten he was there during my moment of despair. It was like a violent slam back into reality, and the reality of the situation was that I was covered in painful blisters, half-undressed and in the presence of the Spirit of the Millennium Ring, whose name I really needed to learn since it wasn't fair to the actual Ryo Bakura to associate everything that asscrack dead guy had done with his name and body.

Realizing that I still had nothing but a shirt and panties on, I called back, "N-No! I'm not. Don't look yet!" I yelped out that last part involuntarily, but he didn't feel the need to comment on it so, for that, I was thankful.

Soon enough, after much struggling, almost falling off of the platform, and realizing that it was futile for me to try to put anything on my legs while I was elevated three feet off of the ground, I heaved my legs over the side of the platform and tried to stand on the ground. I put on the short-shorts I had been provided with, and then struggled with the thigh-high leggings. The cotton wasn't helping my blisters much, but I wasn't leaving my legs exposed to the elements looking like that.

"Y-You can look now," I mumbled. Why did I fucking saythat? And why did I keep stuttering around him?

At hearing my words, he turned around. "Don't you need a pair of shoes?" he asked, glancing down at my feet.

The scrutiny caused me to wiggle my toes slightly. I wasn't going to admit that I had completely forgotten that I needed shoes, so I shot back at him, "You didn't give me shoes." I just hoped that whatever shoes he did give me would treat my aching feet kindly, because the stockings weren't doing them any favors.

He sighed and dropped a pair of boots to the ground, the impact of which caused a loud thudto echo throughout the morgue. Before moving to put them on, my head turned rapidly to the door. What if someone caught us here? What would they do? They'd see a couple of teenagers in a morgue with one of the freezers open and a ruffled blanket. I didn't have to wonder what they'd think.

Bakura seemed to notice my alarm so he spoke up calmly, gesturing with one of his thumbs towards the door, a smirk on his face. "Nobody can hear us. I've taken care of the guards."

I was shocked by the audacity he was displaying. "You've 'taken care of the guards'?"

He frowned. "I didn't kill them if that's what you're asking."

"Well! As long as you didn't kill them. I mean, what's a little trip to the Shadow Realm? It's character building at least!" I remarked, dropping down to my knees to start unlacing the boots that Bakura had just unceremoniously presented.

The boy gave me a vague look that I'm sure translated to something along the lines of 'I want to obliterate you, but you're not worth my time' and I chose to pay it no mind since he seemed to need me alive, and that gave me a small sense of safety. "Why don't you take the sarcasm down a notch and put your shoes on before I send you to this Shadow Realm you speak of?" His tone suggested that he was mocking my choice of words, and I began to wonder if I had made a mistake. It wascalled the Shadow Realm, right? I mean, I hadn't misspoken; I was at fairly certain that it was referred to as 'Shadow Realm' when I watched it. Then again… maybe not.

We were silent as we made our way through the quiet hospital, and it wasn't a comfortable silence. The bag he had been looking through earlier turned out to be my own bag -the very same one I had been carrying throughout the day, and now it was in his hands, as I was a bit too scared to ask him for it. In the ten minutes it took us to reach the hospital lobby, I felt guilt, fear, uncertainty, and agony. The boots that I had been given were pressing uncomfortably on the blisters covering my feet and ankles, and every step I took made me feel the burn of my entire foot being skinned. My legs weren't much better. While I appreciated that my outfit thoroughly covered my blisters, I wondered if I might have had to dress the wounds at least before getting dressed. The stockings were rubbing against my legs and the friction caused me to stop in my tracks several times -much to Bakura's annoyance.

We eventually made it to the lobby and it didn't seem like any of the pus filled blisters covering my legs was about to pop anytime soon, so I guess that was good, too. Unfortunately, it was only as Bakura and I passed the threshold and exited the hospital that I realized I had completely forgotten about my plan to make a run for it and find Mr. Muto. I began to curse my absent-mindedness, but in my defense, with the state that my legs were in, I probably would not have been able to escape, much less outrun Bakura, who, in spite of his thin and bony physique, still looked to be very athletic.

Looking outside, I found out that it was very late in the evening. I guess I could kiss any slight chance I had at a spot in the finals goodbye. Now that I was injured as well, I wouldn't even dream of trying to get the rest of the required locator cards. The thought of going through another duel made my legs tingle as though they unconsciously remembered the abuse they had suffered during my last duel.

Just before descending the steps before the hospital, I stopped for what may have been the twentieth time since I left the morgue. My legs were throbbing and my feet were going to break off of my body if we continued at this rate. The only parts of my body that weren't covered in blisters were my arms, my neck, and my head. The rest of my body was torturing me, dragging me down, draining my energy. I reached down and tugged my stockings down a bit, glancing at the blisters beneath them. They didn't look good, but they could have been worse…

"Can you walk, or can't you?" An irritable growl sounded from somewhere in front of me.

"I-I'm fine…" I murmured, covering the wounds again and attempting to descend the stairs. It was only after my first step that I realized I couldn't do it. Going down the stairs was causing more friction and more pressure on my damaged skin, and before I could stop myself, I toppled over. Talk about déja-vu!

Oddly enough, my head didn't hit concrete. I felt something restricting my arms and a firm surface against my back. I suppose I should have expected him to catch me. "I would appreciate it if you would stop trying to die, Lorna."

"Noted…" I uttered bitingly.

"You can't walk," he stated, pushing me out of his grasp and holding me steady at an arm's length away from him. I didn't even need to reply to him because my wobbling legs did that for me.

Before he could say anything, I spat out, "I don't need you to carry me or anything, though! I just need a bit of help on these stupid stairs and then I can manage on my own!"

"Hmph…" His eyes flashed briefly in the moonlight and then glanced away from my face. His answer infuriated me, but I didn't want to talk to him anymore, feeling humiliated enough that I had to hold onto him for support as I went down the stairs. It took us an agonizingly long time to reach the bottom of the stairs, and all the while, I glared lasers at the ground; a heavy and overpowering sense of loathing was growing more and more inside me for the arm I was currently attached to.

"So where are we going now?" I asked, still clinging to his arm once we reached the bottom -not because I particularly enjoyed holding on to the arms of deranged killers, but because I was still trying to steady myself enough to successfully walk without him.

He glanced at me, a look laced with annoyance and boredom. He held his arm out almost in exasperation, like he couldn't wait for me to let go, and, let me tell you, the feeling was most definitely mutual. "Well, you're going to accompany me while I acquire six locator cards."

Wait… he didn't have his locator cards yet? How did he get those again? "And where are we going to find those? I mean, it's too late for anyone to still be out dueling."

"I've got an idea," he replied, grinning at me. I took that gross smile of his as a cue to let go of his arm and finally stand independently beside him. I was just glad that, for the time being, I didn't know what was on his mind, because I didn't really want to know.

Ahahaaa writing about Bakura was fun. I have to admit. This chapter was a bit uneventful, but Lorna's back :D And what's more is that you get some gratuitous Bakura.