Traps

A/N: Not my first fanfic, but my first published on dA. Just an idea I thought was worth writing down. Let me know what you think. Perspective is always something I strive for.


A lone figure stood in the emptiness as stone, the only movement was a tanned finger twitching every few moments. The short, disorderly hair was bowed with the head, lavender eyes shut in deep thought. The male form was almost completely buried in these thoughts, slumbering in the words pouring to and from his mind. How long? How long had he been standing here, head bowed, dreaming darkly and profoundly? He doesn't know. It could have been an eternity, it could have been no more than a mere hour. Time seemed to have no existence this deep inside of his soul.

Empty. The room was far too empty. The gentle wind hollowed against his ears, lapping against the stone wall. He didn't want to stare at those walls anymore. He was tired of reading the ancient text crowding every texture, telling the same story over and over again. The life... and death, of Bakura, the King of Thieves.

Bakura heaved a heavy sigh. Just a little over twenty years of life scrawled on the sides to be seen and read for dozens by the man who had forged the history himself. No sun touched the Thief; there was no way to count the days he had been trapped in this prison, gazing at those same words. He felt nothing here. Not hunger, not thirst, not tiredness. No, not tired. Weary.

He had failed. He had believed he would succeed in his final revenge, and he had failed. The Pharaoh had defeated him and sealed himself and the Thief King away. The Pharaoh in the Millennium Puzzle, the Thief in the Millennium Ring. The great tomb robber now lived forever wandering his own tomb. A soul room.

And the Thief King was not alone.

Zorcs Necrophades's presence dominated in the Ring, despite being merely a fragment of his true self. Bakura could feel the dark energy. Pulling him...

Bakura's eyes snapped open. He would surely go mad standing here any longer, and the idea forming in his mind was looking far too tempting to refuse. Bakura had a room that supported his soul and mind's presence, but if Zorc was here, there had to be more to this accursed Ring. There had to be a way out of this room and to Zorc's soul. Zorc's soul room...

What could possibly be held inside of it? Gold was not the ways of the otherworldly demon. What kind of treasures could be found? What kind of treasures could be taken? The curiosity consumed the Thief, the very idea thrilling.

The King of Thieves needed something to occupy this endless stream of time. Why not, he presumed, take up his favorite past time again?

It was time to explore this tomb much more thoroughly.

Bakura pulled a hand to his face, caressing the scar on his cheek for but a moment. This room seemed to be all there was; no doorway was anywhere to be found. Only the four walls and the Egyptian writing. Was there any end, or was Bakura simply allowing his mind to wishfully dream? He pushed that theory back down. He could not allow himself to believe such a thing. Yes, there was a soul room for Zorc. The power Bakura felt had to originate form somewhere. But where? How was he to get there with no way to exit his own room?

Bakura crossed his arms, and his wrist clanked against his chest. The Thief stopped. He stared down in disbelief, slowly inching his fingers towards his Millennium Ring still hanging around his neck. Impossible, the Thief King scorned at it. How could he be wearing the Item if he was dwelling within it? And how could he have not sensed it on him all this time?

The Ring glowed, as if offended by Bakura's thoughts. Never underestimate the power of a Millennium Item, Thief.

The Thief grunted. "Bah," he cried. "Useless gold. I'm going mad sitting here."

Still, Bakura held the Ring. He stared, it stared back. Bakura sighed, as if in defeat. "Millennium Ring, I call to you now," the words of command flowed from his lips almost poetically. "Open my eyes, show me the way."

The glow transfixed the Thief as the light flowed to a single, sharp spike, pointing toward a side of the wall. Bakura stepped forward slowly, one hand on the Ring, one out toward the direction. His hand was stopped at the wall. Bakura growled in annoyance. "There's nothing here. Show me the way, Ring!"

The glow continued to shine in the same direction. The Thief King grew impatient. "I am telling you, there's nothing—" Bakura stopped as something smooth met his hands. "What...?" Bakura tried to pull it, but nothing happened. He pushed, and yet the same futility occurred. Finally, out of sheer irritation, Bakura twisted, and the pathway opened. Bakura's eyes slowly met a small, dank hallway. He peered inside, but no soul seemed to be in the corridor. The Thief stepped out, meeting the sudden coldness to the air. The power gave Bakura new strength, feeling the energy course through the stillness. The Ring's spikes stuck out again to point down the passage. Bakura ran, his red coat fluttering behind him, feeling invigorated for the chance at movement and exploration, despite his stiff muscles.

He approached doorway, wide open, as though beckoning the Thief inside. Bakura smirked. Zorc must be wanting a visitor. He stepped confidently toward the open darkness...

A cry of surprise and pain escaped the Thief King's lips as the Ring dug it's spikes into his bare chest. He stopped short. The glow illuminated his feet. Bakura saw, at the tips of his slippers, the chasm he narrowly stopped himself from plummeting down. Fool! he scolded to himself. How could you be so careless? You think Zorc has no barriers to the bowels of his soul? The Thief shook his head. That would not happen again. Bakura felt the spikes release themselves from his chest and fall back down, limp, but still glowing. He could feel the drips of blood roll down his chest and stomach. A small price to pay. The true question now was, how was he going to make it across? The Ring made a pointed gesture to the side. Bakura stiffly followed it's guidance. It poked out at the same chasm.

"Are you daft?" he exclaimed. "I nearly got myself killed attempting to cross this, what makes you think there is no longer a danger?"

The Ring persistently fingered. "All right, all right!" Bakura nearly stormed his step toward the pit, sure it would not stop him from falling to his death.

The foot landed on a hard surface.

Bakura blinked in surprise. He could see no bridge, yet his slipper sat sturdily on the air. The Thief King felt sweat bead his forehead. He shouldn't have been surprised; Zorc was the master being of the impossible. Gingerly, Bakura took a second step forward. Still, his foot hit the invisible landing, and Bakura felt the same feeling of shock. The process continued viciously again and again as Bakura shuffled through.

Finally, the Ring's glow ceased. The Thief let out a sigh of both relief and terror as he fell to his knees. The end of the first trap, and Bakura was already worn. He was far too out of practice.

A torch burned quietly in the distance. The Thief King gawked at the sight, unsure if his mind was merely seeing things or if this was another trick. Light... He stood and hurried towards it for a closer look.

The flame danced off of the hieroglyphics. Bakura squinted. His eyes strained against the dim light. Impossible... His eyes should have been sharp and strong, it always was. His annoyance bit into his soul. Read it, he commanded himself. Read it.

Bakura's shoulders slumped in defeat. he whispered, "Millennium Ring, illuminate my path, that I might reach my destiny."

The Ring's glow returned, it's light multiplied. Bakura let a soft cry escape him as he shielded his eyes, unused to such light. He blinked, and looked back to the Egyptian words.

"For the soul to enter another, a riddle must be solved. Answer correctly and you may proceed: If a King is robbed in gold, what does that make the thief?

Bakura scoffed. Why would Zorc choose such a pathetic question? Bakura had said the very same words to the Pharaoh in their first meeting. Did he truly believe Bakura would not remember? "A King of Thieves," he replied strongly.

The Thief King stepped forward as the wall opened ceremoniously. "You must be losing your touch, Destroyer."

Bakura felt the floor cave in from under him.

The King of Thieves feels the darkness rip his soul inside and out as he falls. A ghostly figure takes shape as Bakura searches for any means of escape from the trap. Diabound! Diabound was dead. It had died with the Thief King's body, what could it possibly be doing here? Diabound stared with it's soulless eyes, reaching out a hand for the Thief. "Th-thank you, Diabound..." Their hands touched.

Suddenly, Diabound's body turned to pure energy. Bakura stared dumbly as he falls further and further, the light of Diabound filling his hand. And then the light was gone. Bakura felt like sobbing. His Ka, so close.. But the Thief King holds no more tears in his body. They had all been drained out by ninety-nine dead spirits. He curled his fingers as the darkness continued to grip him.

Bakura paused. His palm held a new object. Bakura brought the hand close to see it...

He thumped to the floor, shouting an Egyptian obscenity as he landed with a sickening oomph! He felt as though his bones had been shattered into a million pieces. He rolled onto his back and groaned in pain.

"Come now, mortal. You can do better than that."

Bakura felt his bones slowly piece back together, mending him gently. The pain subsided, and Bakura let out another groan as he stiffly climbed back onto his feet. "Zorc..." he growled.

"It's about time you found your way here. I was curious as to how clever you could be. Apparently, not very."

Bakura scanned the blackness. "You insult the King of Thieves, Zorc? Show yourself so that I can speak to you as a man."

"But mortal, I am not a man. You should have wrapped even your little head around that by now. But, if you insist..."

Bakura saw a haunting beam of light fall onto his foe. Bakura gaped at him. Zorc sat at a table made of a mirroring material the Thief King had never seen before, sipping something bitter smelling from a strange cup. But it was Zorc himself that had caught the Thief's attention. He looked... almost as Bakura, yet very different. His pallor was deathly white, just as his hair flowing down his back, long and wild. He was thin, and looked of less years. His clothes were alien, perplexing coverings. It was the coat that made him look truly sinister, much longer and slimmer than the Thief's own, and as black as the room they stood staring at each other now in. Zorc's eyes were a deep brown, heinous and evil. And his lips were curled in an amused smile. "Do you like my form, Thief?"

Bakura shook his head. He could not fathom this foreign look of Zorc. Zorc looked pleased. "It's all right. We both will get used to it."

"What are you wearing? Have you gone mad?"

"Mad? Of course not, Thief. I am just getting used to the new body we will both be taking soon."

"What?"

"You truly don't know how much time has passed, do you?" Zorc's grin widened, rising from his seat. "Thief, it's been three thousand years..."

Bakura nearly fell back. "That's impossible!" Three thousand years? Here? How?

"Oh, but Thief, it truly is. Surely you noticed the passing time? Your body is already starting to take it's toll in old age, isn't it? Having any trouble seeing at all?"

"That's a lie. A trick. Time cannot exist here. Not really."

"You're getting old, Thief. And you know the prophecy foretold, don't you? The Pharaoh has returned. It is time to finally make our move."

"Make our..."

"You've always wanted revenge for what the Pharaoh did to you and your family, haven't you? Now is our chance to try again. You remember our Shadow Games. It should please you to know humans of the present play these very games even now. The form is unfamiliar, but it is our game all the same. Just look, Thief..."

Bakura glanced at his hand, remembering the unidentified object. A thin... tablet-like thing glimmered in the ghostly light. There were words Bakura couldn't understand scribbled at the top, and at the middle... a perfect image of Diabound.

"They call it Duel Monsters. It is a game of cards. It's here, Thief. It's a second chance, a do-over. And this time... nothing will stop us. I will get my chance to obliterate this universe, and you, your revenge."

Unwanted memories nearly crippled the Thief King at the sudden recollection sprawled onto his mind. Kul Elna... the massacre... the blood...

Zorc watched the man's turmoil with a smirk. Mankind was always the same. So proud... until they were cut down to size. Pathetic, but amusing. The Thief King snarled at him. "You're trying to confuse me. I know the truth now. I know that the Pharaoh was never the reason for my family's death. It was Ahknaden, and he's long dead now. You think you can just take me like this? You can't, Zorc. I'll kill you before I let you use me again. I don't want to relive the past. I don't care if I have to rot in this Millennium Item for eternity, I won't relive the past again!"

Zorc cocked his head and shook it. "And you think you can stop me?" A glow from the Millennium Ring formed around his own neck.

Bakura fell back, slamming against the floor. Every bone pieced apart in his body slowly. The Thief King King screamed in agony as the torture flared through him. Zorc laughed. "You were my vessel in the past world. I needed you. And now I need a blood relative to return."

"My family's dead!" Bakura cried, the blood staining his teeth.

Zorc clicked his tongue and gripped his white hands around Bakura's neck. Bakura seethed, his eyes bloodshot as Zorc held the Thief King to meet eye to eye. "You're an ignorant fool. Your world is the size of a peanut. You think that you had no relatives that could possibly have been scattered? Are you truly that single minded?"

Bakura blinked. No, he hadn't believed there could be any chance of a remaining family. He was sure they all had died with Kul Elna. Zorc's grip tightened. "There is a family in this modern age. The Bakuras. There used to be more, but the females met an... unfourtunate fate. Now there are two. I don't care which one we take, although I rather like a chance at the boy. I just need a host. And I need no resistance from you."

Bakura let a spit of blood fall on the pale mirror of himself.

Zorc paused, dropping the Thief on the hard floor. Bakura felt the nausea of the dizzying pain, his broken bones making any movement impossible. Zorc stared down. "You will help me," he vowed. "And I will cast this world to darkness, just as it always should have been. You made your choice as soon as you signed the contract to intertwine our souls. You're mine now, Thief. You will be mine until the end of time."

"No..." Bakura whispered. "I... Three thousand years have passed. You said so yourself. I want to let go. I want to let my spirit go. I won't be yours. I am the King of Thieves, I belong to no one. No one shall ever take me, Zorc."

Zorc chuckled, then laughed mockingly. "It's too late, Thief! And if you won't join with me willingly, then I will force you!"

Zorc's body smoked, his legs fading. Bakura stared, terror rising in his throat. The spirit form of Zorc began it's painful filling of Bakura's body. He screamed, fighting back any chance of Zorc's control. This couldn't happen again! He wouldn't allow it!

The head was fading now, too. "We will be one once again, Thief. Together, we are, and will be until our task is through, The Spirit of the Millennium Ring. Single, together, forever..."

The light faded slowly. Zorc was nothing but a spirit now, clashing against the resistance. Bakura couldn't keep his wall of defense up any longer. He was so tired...