Prologue...?

The great Winged Dragon of Ra, in all its shining glory, turns its head towards him; his heart skips a beat as the heat of its glare washes over him. It is a creature of fire, he knew that well before the thing appeared, but he never expected its gaze to be quite so intense, complimenting the beautiful deadliness of its immense claws, built to shred; not to mention the enormous, intimidating fangs he can see as it opens its mouth a little-

Don't look.

With an effort, he keeps his own gaze straight, staring directly into the eyes of his opponent; the pure hatred he finds there. The thing screeches out a raucous challenge, saliva dripping from its teeth and spittle spraying in every directions - and all he does is brush away a single white bang which dared to cross his line of sight. He is no fool, of course; he knows that he is about to die. But at the same time, he knows that this death cannot be avoided, and he definitely doesn't want to show fear in his final moments; he can't give his enemy the satisfaction of seeing him flinch.

He can sense his companion watching him; violet eyes boring into his back, likely filled with - no, it's not likely - it's a hundred percent certainty; because he knows that those lavender eyes are glimmering with worry, because it wouldn't be any other way. Whether the man behind the man is worried about himself or his acquaintance or both is anyone's guess; but from what the fighter's seen so far, his companion is likely to be worried regardless.

"Do you forfeit?" The sound carries above the fearsome snarls of the god, snapping the young man out of his reverie. His opponent's sneering now, hoping to catch him off guard and get a wince out of him, but the teenager just stares him down, wooden smile on his lips, staring and staring until eventually his enemy's smirk goes plastic, then fades to a slight twitch on an otherwise irritable visage. "Well?"

The young man's lips spread even wide in a grin, even though the one he's fighting for can't see it - and that's probably a good thing, because his expression at that moment is a sight more disturbing than the monster he faces. The grin slashes his features clean in two, distorting an otherwise normal face to nightmarish levels as he mouths two simple syllables. He yells them out a moment later - and doesn't know if he's reassuring himself, or reassuring the person behind him.

"Never!"

Right on cue, the god's mouth opens, a beam of light shoots out towards him; a lightning bolt that slams into his chest, causing him to stagger - and the enormous fireball of colourful oranges and yellows has him airborne, the deck of the airship falling away from him as he flies. The force of the blast sends adrenaline pumping through his whole body - to be honest, he can't help but burst out laughing, cackling even as his skull hits the steel-plated wall behind him with a sick crunch, his shoulders shaking as he slides down, until they can't because they've burnt away. That's when he realizes that his whole body is dissolving, crumbling into ashes as it's eaten at by fire and shadow, half of him gone before he's even met the deck.

Is this the end?

...No, it's too soon for him to go out.

He will be back.

He is the darkness.

The shadows cannot hold him forever.

As he hits the metal deck of... of... of whatever he was standing on, he doesn't remember anymore - but at any rate, as he hits it, he feels a surge of energy pass through what little of him remains, as the flames streak up his neck, up the sides of his face, and then-

Darkness.


And then, not-darkness.

With a groggy sort of snort, he looks around the room he is now in; it is not the place he was in before, and not the place he should be in now. No, it's just an ordinary bed in an ordinary sort of room. Ordinary; beneath him, a place he has no desire to be in, and yet there he is...

Yes, there he is! Because he is there! He rolls one shoulder, then the other, giggling drowsily as he does so, remembering how hard he laughed when the fireball hit hi-

Suddenly, the giggle catches in his throat - he coughs, then breaks out into an all-out cackle, harsh echoes bouncing off the walls as he sits up, zombie-like, realizing exactly how much damage he took - he died - and yet he is still alive. Raised from the dead... no, resurrected, he decides. Yes, resurrected, rising above all those useless mortals, his body undestroyable, and perfectly poised to take his revenge-

-or, he would be, if only darkness doesn't happen to cloud his vision at that point, his head feeling light. It's not long before he finds himself sinking deep into the murky netherworld of the other place, the only thing undead about him being the drool going all over his chin as he flops back on the pillows, jaw hanging slack.

...Goddammit.


He lies there for some time, time which he cannot measure, seeing as he is not conscious. However, the reader should probably know that just a few minutes into his latest coma, one brainwashed slave - I mean, one of the few females existent in this whole show - steps into his room. She's a dainty sort of thing, with brown hair in a neat little bob, and eyes big and innocent; one might expect her to scream or jump back when she sees the psychopath passed out on the mattress.

Only thing is, it's not her. It's not her consciousness looking out of those eyes, it's not her mind working her legs and making her come nearer - it's the psychopath's companion from before who's technically telling her to pull the blankets over the unconscious form of Ryou Bakura, the man behind the man who makes her giggle a little when he sees the drool of the guy who did sort of try to help out.

If only she had a camera - or maybe not, because maybe her controller can make her take one, take some photos...

With that in mind, she tiptoes out; it's an action more in the interests of drama than worrying about waking up He Who Recently Took A Fireball To The Face, but it does disturb Bakura's sleep a little less than, say, charging out of the room with a wild whoop.

The controller's going to be saving that one until he's got the photos.


END

(And so, Bakura loses all his dignity.)


Hello, people :D

Hope you liked that. This little fic is a collaboration with the lovely spoonerdog123. I recommend that, if you do plan on following this fanfic, you follow the other one. These two fics may have the same prologue, but they will be FAR from identical!

Also, Ryo-Ri-Oh! What could it mean? ;D You won't find out unless you go to Spooner's fic.