Yu-Gi-Oh! © Kazuki Takahashi

Yu-Gi-Oh! The Abridged Series © LittleKuriboh

The Road to El Dorado © DreamWorks

This work of fiction is for non-profit entertainment purposes only, and the characters and plot all belong to their respective owners.

If any of the original owners are against fanfiction that contain their creations, please let me know and I will remove this story from this and all sites.

WARNING: This chapter contains . . . [Language / Gore]

Edit Update: 1/1/2016

Did some majorly small fixes here and there.

I also changed the Warning section a tad.

Somewhere in Egypt, Bakura was sitting on the only comfortable chair in their entire hideout - which he had made sure to snatch up and place in the room where his main essentials resided. In his hand was a book that one of his fans had sent him called Battle Royale, which was written by some bloke by the name of Houshun Takami. He had found it quite strange, considering the fact that his fangirls usually gave him severed fingers or ears instead, but he had decided to give it a go since the cover had the image of a group of bloodthirsty teenagers who were scrambling to kill each other.

Most of the time he wouldn't have bothered. Reading about blood and gore wasn't as fun as actually seeing it. Or even better, being covered in it. But ever since 4Kids took hold of the Yu-Gi-Oh! franchise, he had found it difficult to avoid their radar long enough to murder somebody. It was possible, but tricky. And he wasn't able to kill nearly as much as he wanted to. So instead, he was reading about it. Or at least, he was until-

"Bakura!" Marik pushed the door to Bakura's room open with great force, which caused his partner in crime cringe when it slammed against the stone wall. "I have a new plan for how we shall get the money we need to invade the province of Saskatchewan!"

Bakura let out an exasperated sigh before closing the book, not bothering to mark his place. Something told him that Marik's scheme was going to take a while. "Does it involve playing a children's card game?"

"Why do you always ask me that?"

"Because that's all we ever do, Marik." And he was starting to get sick of it. Somewhere along the line, they had all fallen into one sad rut that had no end. They would challenge Yugi to a duel, almost defeat him, and then three or more episodes in he would miraculously pick up the one card that he needed from his deck, ensuring his victory. It was getting old. "How about we just pretend that we did your plan and go right to the part where you complain and I tune you out."

"But it's effing brilliant!"

"That is exactly what you said the last time."

"Come on, Bakura. You can't still be upset with me about that one."

"Yes I can, Marik. It took hours to get the feathers out of my hair."

The bronze skinned boy chuckled at the memory. "Yeah. You looked like a very pale and very gay version of Elton John."

"Marik, Elton John is-"

Marik suddenly clapped his hands together, cutting him off. Oh!" He reached into one of the large pockets on his black cargo pants and pulled out a DVD, which he waved in front of Bakura's face. "Speaking of, that's what my ingenious plan has in it. Elton John, I mean."

"It doesn't involve feathers, does it?"

"Of course not, Fluffy!"

"Don't call me that."

Marik flashed a confident grin. "We are going to star in our own movie!"

They were both silent for a moment before Bakura asked, "What does that have to do with Elton John?"

"I'm glad you asked. We are going to be in a movie that he was in."

"Please don't tell me it's The Country Bears. One furry on this show is bad enough."

"No! We are going to be in this movie!" Marik shoved the DVD into Bakura's hands and stepped back, a large smile plastered on his tan face, as if he were expecting Bakura to jump up from his chair and shout to the world that Marik's plan was the most amazing and diabolical of all evil plans ever known to man.

This, obviously, did not happen.

The white haired boy cocked an eyebrow at the DVD he was now holding. "The Road to El Dorado?" The cover had a picture of two men: one blond with shoulder length hair, the other with black locks in a ponytail and some sort of goatee. The two of them were riding a white horse, who was smiling at the unseen camera along with the two protagonists on his back. That's American cartoons for you. "Well, this doesn't look gay at all." He said with a heavy coating of sarcasm.

"It's not gay, Bakura." Marik snatched it back. "They both fall in love with a girl who has big hips and tiny boobs."

"That's new." The measurements were usually the other way around.

"We are going to be in this movie, Bakura!" Marik said almost defensively. Because he wasn't holding his Millennium Rod, he ran his fingers over the DVD box instead. "And it is going to make us a lot of money."

"Don't you remember what happened the last time we tried to make a movie together?"

"No, I don't."

"Come to think of it, neither can I . . . Strange."

Marik shrugged it off. "Well, this plan is effing foolproof! You know why?"

Bakura knew he was going to regret this. "Why?"

"Because we are going to be ripping off this movie. Everyone knows that all of the big smash hits have been ripoffs of other movies. Just look at Pocahontas. It is totally a ripoff of Avatar."

"Marik, you do realize that Pocahontas was made first, right?"

"Frigging Disney. They will stop at nothing!"

With a loud groan, Bakura grabbed the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb, closing his brown eyes as he did. He looked like he was fighting off a massive headache, which he probably was. "Your stupidity astounds me."

"Thank you."

"That was not a compliment."

Marik either didn't hear him or he had blocked it out. But of course, this is how it always was. Marik would rattle on about some new idea he had that even a toddler would frown upon and Bakura would try to convince him that it would never work, only to be completely ignored. Sometimes Bakura felt as if he were a radio and Marik was turning his volume knob until no sound came out. Another rut he was starting to grow tired of.

He sometimes wondered if he should end their partnership and find bloodier pastures, but he had tried that already. Once he had joined forces with Dartz and his gang of stupid motorcycle freaks that nobody cared about but it didn't work out. Mainly because the writers had stopped working on the next episode. But even if they hadn't, he still wouldn't have stayed there for long. Dartz's speech impediment and crummy guitar playing were even more annoying than Marik, if that was even possible. Or maybe Marik was more tolerable simply because Bakura felt a connection with the boy. They both had blood soaked pasts and shared the same enemy so it was to be expected. He knew it was more than that, but he had learned a long time ago to put his secret feelings aside. Or at least, to the best of his abilities.

Marik pointed at him with the DVD box. "You will be in my movie, Bakura!"

Bakura grabbed the DVD and looked it over again. "Couldn't you have picked something like Cannibal Holocaust?"

"The movie with all the blood and the girl skewered on the pointy stick?"

"Yes, Marik. That one."

"I prefer comedy movies."

"You've said that before."

Marik eyed the DVD that Bakura was currently holding. "That's a comedy."

"No bloody kidding." It didn't look like the type of movie that could be taken seriously. Just like every other American cartoon in existence.

"So are you going to be in my movie or not?!" Marik's voice had risen high enough to make it squeak, telling Bakura that he was losing what little patience he had.

"Fine." Bakura said, holding up his hands in surrender. "I'll be in your bloody movie. But I had better get paid for it."

"But I don't have any money."

Bakura placed Battle Royale on his lap before intertwining his fingers, giving Marik a lewd grin. "There are other ways you can-" He had been in the middle of saying one of his many pickup lines that would probably go over Marik's head when a question popped into his mind. Two, in fact. "Wait a minute. If you don't have any money, then how are you going to afford making a movie? And what about that trust fund from your father?"

"Uh, which question do you want me to answer first?"

"The first one."

"Okay." After saying that, Marik remained silent for so long that Bakura thought that his puny brain had finally fizzled out of its meager existence from having to think too hard until, "I think I would rather answer the second question first."

"Fine, just hurry it up."

"I, uh . . . I kind of spent it all."

Bakura's eyebrows lowered. "What?"

"I had to use it all to pay the electricity bill." Marik gestured towards Bakura's computer, which was not the only one that they owned; the other belonging to Marik, which he used to play video games. "We live underground in the middle of frigging nowhere, Bakura. Do you have any idea how much it costs to get electricity down here? Not to mention the repairs after the Pharaoh had blown up our hideout."

At first Bakura said nothing and merely stared at him. He had expected Marik to say that he had used the money to pay for something utterly ridiculous; like a taco stand so that they could have all the free tacos they wanted. And he would probably use it in one of his idiotic plans to defeat the Pharaoh. Maybe inviting him over, telling him that he could come and eat a taco, only to arrive and discover that they had already eaten them all. No, that wasn't stupid enough. With all the money that they now didn't have, Bakura couldn't even imagine what Marik would have bought with it. And he hoped to never find out.

"Fair enough." Bakura crossed his arms over his chest, feeling the cold metal of the Millennium Ring touch the bare skin on his wrist. "Now answer the first question."

"What first question?"

Bakura rolled his eyes. "How are you going to afford making a movie?"

Marik smiled once more. "We are going to use movie magic!"

"What the bloody hell is that?"

"I don't know but it sounds cool."

"Gay, you mean."

"I'm not gay!"

"Whatever." Yet another rut to add to the list. Bakura picked up his book, thumbing through the pages until he found the place where he had left off. "Call me when you get it all sorted out."

"But I already have it all sorted out."

"Hmm." Bakura was only half listening now, his eyes moving back and forth as they consumed the words on the page. It described the body of a teacher being brought into a classroom, half of the head gone and brain matter covering the teacher's hair. Bakura was not fazed by it. In fact, he thought that the author didn't go far enough.

"We are going to use the evil and terrifying power of," pause for dramatic effect, "fanfiction."

Bakura stopped reading and his eyes widened. There was nothing quite as frightening as fanfiction. Or worse, a fanfiction writer.

When he didn't say anything in response, Marik continued. "We are going to hire someone to write us into this movie."

"How are you going to hire somebody when we don't have any money?"

"Did I say 'hire'? I meant, kidnap them! And force them to do our bidding!"

Bakura's lips spread into a sadistic grin. "May I kill them when we're done with them?"

"Silly, Kitty. You know that 4Kids will censor it."

"I'm not a kitty."

Marik raised his hands up to his chin, mimicking the neko pose. "Hello, Kitty! Hello, Kitty, Kitty, Kitty, Kitty."

"Stop it."

"Ha! Does that bug you? I'm not touching you."

Bakura waved a dismissive hand. "Just go and bring the writer here." He turned his attention back to Battle Royale. Now the teacher's head was being shot at, causing what was left of his brain to spatter on the walls. "No doubt it will be a deluded yaoi fangirl."

"Is there any other type of fanfiction writer?"

"Good point."

—

And that, my friends, is how I ended up here; tied to a chair in front of an old typewriter that was probably clogged up with sand, considering the fact that we were underground in the middle of freakin' Egypt. Why Marik had chosen- Correction, kidnapped me to write his money making movie fanfic is beyond me. And for the record, I am not a deluded yaoi fangirl. Yes, I did write one shounen-ai fanfic once but it was for a contest and-

"Stop writing about yourself and get to work." Bakura said as he held up a knife, the flames from the torches that surrounded them reflecting off of the menacing blade.

Marik slammed his hands down on the tabletop. "The time you spent describing his knife was time you could have spent writing my movie!"

"I'm just trying to describe to the readers what's going on." The young and perfectly masculine writer with a dimpled smile that made all the women swoon said in a dashing voice that-

"What the eff is this bull crap?! You're a smelly girl!"

"A very manly smelly girl!"

"Can I kill her now?" Bakura asked.

"Okay, okay!" The writer said quickly before she began working on the first chapter of a fanfiction she would surely regret writing for many years to come.

"Have you started writing it yet?" Marik asked.

"I have to end this chapter first." And with that, the chapter ended.

"How about now?"

"I can't end it if you keep talking to me!" And that concluded the first of many chapters.

"How about now?"

Or not.

There was a long silence.

Could it be?

Was it too much to ask for?

"How about now?"

Apparently it was.

"How about-?"

"MARIK!"