"Your Darkness is impressive," I say. Of course, I don't show any exterior signs of how impressed I really am; I know the likes of Malik no yami no jinkaku. He's not a 'real' Darkness anyway, but he shows the signs of a dark being: hatred and anger, pure and raw.
"Why, thank you." Of course, he doesn't mean it. He doesn't even bother to hide his disdain, and he doesn't even bother being sarcastic, as if it takes him too much effort.
Silence. It's not like we're good friends, or acquaintances even. I haven't seen Malik Ishtar's darker side since I dueled him on top of that weird blimp thing, when I lost to his scrawny ass, together with the pathetic remains of the original Malik. Heh. I wonder what he's up to, since he's been redeemed by the man he was supposed to hate the most.
"I should've known that I'd run into you, sooner or later," I speak up. I don't want to admit that he's magnificent, the way he stands, empowered by the Darkness around him, full with delicious hate and blackness. His hatred pales in comparison to mine of course, but I'm fairly sure he doesn't give a shit about comparing. He doesn't care about anything.
"What is it you want, Bakura?" he asks. "Do you finally regret working together with my shujinkaku-sama? Such a waste. You should've teamed up with me. Together, we could've plunged the world in total devastation and despair." He crosses his arms in front of his chest.
"I don't care for 'total devastation and despair'. Talking to you is a waste of time."
"Fine, leave then."
"You leave."
He chuckles. "Aren't you a little too old for this childish game?"
"The Darkness is mine," I snap at him. "You have no reason being here. You were supposed to be totally banished. I guess the Pharaoh wasn't strong enough to totally obliterate you. Interesting. Or perhaps he was lenient, or merciful, to ban you instead of annihilate you."
"I don't need his mercy," he snaps back, and I can see his knuckles turn white, from clenching his fists. He's rather composed, maybe the Darkness has tamed him a little. I'm pleased with the reaction nonetheless. "How is our exalted King anyway?"
A question deserves an answer. "He's on his way to Egypt. He has gained all three God Cards, and he's going to present them to the Ceremonial Tablet."
A grin, a delighted, bloodlust-like grin. His curiosity is piqued. "What do you have in store for him?"
"Nothing but the greatest, darkest RPG of all times." I am proud of my plan, and confident of my success. I don't mind telling him, this creature, this dark being that was created from pain and hatred, created to hate one man and one man only? Does he even know how much he resembles his hated Pharaoh with that powerful stance, that tilt of his head, his chin forward and that luscious hair of his, framing his tan face with those crazy yet fascinating pupil-less, dark-lashed eyes? "I have prepared for this since millennia. It's the ultimate of RPG's, taking him back to his country, to his nation, only to relive his defeat and his death again."
"That sounds awfully nice." His grin becomes deranged. I can imagine how he's imagining it all, since he failed to destroy the Pharaoh himself. I allow myself a moment of thought, joining his silence. I can't for the moment when I see the look on the Pharaoh's face, when his entire nation crumbles around him, how his own life is ended and how the light will die out in those fascinating crimson-red eyes. Oh, but I sincerely enjoyed dueling him, even though I hate him. I'll admit he was the better duelist, God Card or no God Card. The moment he summoned Osiris... he was destined to have the God Cards, but I'm not interested in them. Thinking back of the duel, I feel my Darkness grow, my mind and soul refilled with hatred and anger again.
Malik no yami no jinkaku looks smug. I'm not sure if I've read him well. I didn't search him out to taunt him. I didn't mean to tell him about my plan. And why am I closing the distance between us, and why isn't he backing away from me?
"He's going to die," I say, "and I will hold his decayed body, and I'll watch it turn into dust before I unleash Zorc onto the world!"
"Plunging it into Darkness," he licks his lips.
"Plunging it into Darkness," I repeat. Now he suddenly takes a step back, but I grab his upper left arm. His body is solid in this Realm, whereas he's nothing but a figment of someone's imagination, purely surviving on his hatred and anger. I press my fingernails into his skin. He doesn't flinch, just curiously looks at the few drops of blood I manage to draw. He doesn't pull away. With his head turned like that, strands of his striking blond hair, such a contrast with his tan skin, shift along with the movement. My other hand touches it, even if I don't know why.
"I wish I could be there," he murmurs.
"Why?"
"To see your total and utter victory," he says. For all that he is, he's not a liar. On the contrary, he has always been straight forward - in the duel, in his goals. He believes me, but he also knows that the Pharaoh will win, of course. He always wins, as much as I hate to admit it. I don't want to admit it. This time, I'll be the victor, just as he believes me to be one. "To see the world be plunged into Darkness."
"I will find out his name," I whisper. My breathing has changed, my voice becoming a little raspy. "And when I know his name, I'll whisper it onto his dying lips, and I'll close his eyes with a kiss, killing his entire soul for all eternity."
Maybe I'm kissing the Pharaoh already in my thoughts, but I don't care. Our lips clash together, snarling, biting, tugging. Malik no yami no jinkaku has the smell of Darkness all over him, his stay in the Shadows consuming his mind and his soul. It's exciting and devastating at the same time. Did I truly choose the wrong Malik to cooperate with? No, back at that time, I didn't have any other choice. It wasn't that much of my choice; I was promised the Sennen Rod, and I wanted my Items back in my hands again.
I grab a fistful of his dark shirt, yank it at to pull him closer. I sink my teeth into his tongue, but no scream or cry follows. The prongs of my Ring are stabbing him in the chest, I realize; five sharp points, usually embedded in my skin, now firmly piercing his. I pull up the hem of his shirt and true enough, blood trickles over his skin. He laughs, right into the kiss. I should've known, of course. He's used to pain, he thrives on pain. In my moment of superiority, I was only thinking of his anger, but not of his pain. Our lips are still locked and I can't pull away, not that I want to. It only takes one thought to end this all, but I only just got started. I want to destroy before I create, I want to destroy after I create. The ultimate Dark RPG is about to start, and I don't know why I even sought out my former enemy. It doesn't matter. I'm excited and I tug and pull at him harder, tightening my grip. The Darkness intensifies, the Shadows creating Shadows, pulling closer and enveloping us. The black room took us like a cave, condensing, compiling all the hatred and anger and fury and pressing it onto us, into us, and finally the screaming started - whoever it was, whoever was destroyed first.