Disclaimer - I don't own anything held herein.
After much deliberation, he moved the piece, dark fingers lingering on the polished wood – black, of course; he always chose black – and he couldn't hide a smug smirk as he eyed the trap he had set. He was the ultimate planner, strategic and careful, calculating and dangerous. No one could defeat him.
A pale hand hesitated for only a moment before moving a rook. "Checkmate," the soft voice said. There wasn't even a hint of satisfaction.
The thief king twitched.
"He defeated you again," a voice snickered from the side. "This is what, the third or the fourth time?"
"Shut up…"
"You're nothing but a worthless pawn, and this proves it. If even yadonushi-sama can beat you…"
"Shut up!"
Bakura leaned back in his chair, dark eyes lowering to the chessboard as he tried to ignore the bickering around him. He hadn't wanted to get involved in the fight between the two spirits, but he hadn't exactly been able to say no and run away. After all, there were only so many hiding places in his soul room, and his Other knew them all. It wasn't so bad though; there was no blood this time, no pain, no unwanted memories spilling over him like oil.
Besides, sometimes it was best that he was so often overlooked. His fingers brushed at something in his lap, and he smiled.
"You know the rules of the game," the entity replied, his tone containing a rather nasty edge though his expression only revealed faintly amused boredom.
Grumbling to himself, the thief king removed his shirt, his red coat already lying on the floor beside his rings and headdress. If he lost one more game, he'd have to remove his coarse linen skirt, and then he'd be as naked as the day he was born.
The entity snickered.
"Shut up!" the thief king snapped again, eyeing the other with poorly disguised hatred. He'd been trapped in this strange place, entirely against his will, and the one who insisted he was him wouldn't let him go without playing his silly little games. Muscles tensing briefly, he continued, "At least I don't look like a girl."
The entity's eyes flashed dangerously for a moment before returning to their normal, cheerful insanity. "If I were you, I wouldn't speak that way to Me. After all, I hold the key to your escape."
"So you say."
So you believe, Bakura thought, but said nothing.
Laughing, the entity reached over, resting a hand as pale as death on his toned bicep, looking like marble against obsidian. "One more game," he purred, leaning in to nip at a tanned ear. He noted absently that his past self needed to bathe more often. "Just one more game, and your fate will be decided, one way or the other."
Yes, it will. Without a word, Bakura began resetting the game board, allowing a small smile to flicker across his face again for just a moment. He didn't want to question why his Other had brought him here, or why the voice in his head had materialized at all and looked just like him, or why there was another version of himself here on top of it, all in his head. He'd decided long ago that he'd gone insane; this was just the icing on the cake.
He also didn't want to question why he was enjoying himself so much. This was a window of opportunity, nothing more.
"White or black?" he asked softly, although he already knew the answer, much as he knew the outcome. The night – was it even night, or daytime? It was impossible to tell in there – was only going to get more interesting. He glanced up, eyes locking with the angry eyes of the thief king as Dark Bakura's grip tightened…
Flicker
The entity shot upright in bed, staring in suspicion at the open window. Something had snapped him awake, aware of his surroundings even while asleep, and he took a tentative sniff of the air as if that would tell tales his eyes couldn't see.
Silence. He could sense the little bundle of emotions and thoughts in the back of his head, indication that his yadonushi was up and about in his soul room, apparently restless. Something was wrong, and even he could feel it, the strangeness cutting through his armor of denial.
Growing rather irritated – he'd finally gotten a chance to sleep, since his yadonushi had seemingly forgotten about that simple task, as he often forgot about eating, and truth be told, he rather liked sleeping – his pale hand slipped beneath the sheets, withdrawing a slim knife.
There was a rustle, then a low voice, oddly familiar.
"So you really are Me."
"…what?"
The man stepped forward, the pale moonlight washing out his dark skin, making him look otherworldly. Dark Bakura's breath hissed in sharply, taking in the familiar features.
"Who are you?" he asked.
The man's tone was amused. "Don't you know? I'm surprised at your ignorance…"
"You tread a risky line," the entity said warningly.
The man threw back his head and laughed, his scar seeming to glow. "Do I really?" he asked, sounding amused. Moving quickly, a snake in dark velvet skin looking so out of place in the blood red coat, the man approached the bedside, hand outstretched.
Eyes narrowing dangerously, the entity shifted a little, coiled and ready. As dark fingers caressed his skin, he hissed, "Don't…"
Flicker…
The entity withdrew his hand, staring down at it in surprise, wondering what had just happened. The thief king looked just as muddled, and his Other looked…well, the same he always did; nothing seemed to effect the boy anymore.
Bakura had finished setting up the board and stared at the other two, face carefully neutral. "Did you want to play?" he asked. No one seemed to notice the small ivory figurine resting in his lap, slender fingers stroking over the abnormally shaped surface with an odd sort of affection.
Frowning, the thief king nodded, leaning back in his chair. His arm brushed against the entity…
Flicker…
He was running at full speed, breath heavy in his lungs, the chill air cutting through his clothes like icy blades sharp as sin. Branches tore at his face, leaving tiny cuts on his skin, open and bleeding. Roots caught his feet, snatching at him, trying to drag him to the ground to meet his death.
He could hear the sounds of the thing's approach, crashing through the woods, its monstrous bulk trampling trees and shaking the countryside. Dark Bakura didn't know what it looked like, what it was, where it came from, but he knew when he was outmatched. One didn't become a thief and live for very long if one didn't learn when to run away.
However, he was beginning to think he didn't even have a chance.
His hand groped at his chest, searching for the Ring that wasn't there. When had he lost it? His memory was foggy, full of holes and half-remembered screams, failing him when he needed it the most. How could he have lost the Ring? How was he still here without it? Where was here?
The thing made a bloated, grotesque sound, and a stench washed over him that nearly knocked him to his knees, his confused thoughts melting. The most primitive part of his brain kicked into life, urging him to run away and hide, to dig deep into the earth and escape…
His foot caught something warm, something squishy and wet, and with a sharp cry he fell. Groping, his hand grasped onto cloth, scratchy and of poor quality, and he looked over to see what had tripped him.
His own dark, glassy eyes stared back from a face ravaged and red and torn.
Screaming, he jerked away, falling backwards...
Flicker…
The entity took several steps away, staring suspiciously at the thief king and shaking his head to clear it. He couldn't make sense of what happened, but the thief king looked similarly confused, staring down at his hands as if seeing something that wasn't there.
Swallowing, he turned his gaze to his Other, his pale, weak landlord who wasn't capable of hurting a fly.
"What is going on?" he demanded.
Flicker…
The snow kept falling, piling up against the rude shelter he had built and trying to bury him alive. His breath was becoming shallow, short, icy puffs coalescing in front of his face before vanishing, on the brink of becoming completely solid in the cold. Shivering, he huddled into his rags and stared out at the swirling darkness, gaze hunted.
He couldn't remember how long he'd huddled there, doing everything he could to remain warm until the tingling had stopped and he could no longer feel a good portion of his body. It was creeping inside his skin, spreading icy tendrils into his muscles and his blood, destroying him from the inside out.
His gaze flickered to his companion, dark where he was pale, thick where he was slender; he wasn't faring any better.
Working moisture into his mouth, lips cracked and dry, he rasped, "We need to get out of here."
He'd said the same thing dozens of times after they'd both lost the strength to move. All he could do now was stubbornly cling to life, hoping that the enemies they'd both hoped to evade would find them and become their salvation.
The other man snorted, glaring at him with a brief flicker of life before settling back down.
Reaching up, fingers fumbling, the entity grasped at the golden object hanging around his neck, the spines cutting his skin. Warmth flared for a moment, blood spilling over his fingers, before that, too, froze, leaving his fingers stiff. The Ring flared to life, responding to his desperation when it had laid dead before, spreading a glowing light…
Flicker…
Dark Bakura found himself flat on his back, the breath knocked out of him, hands pinning his shoulders to the ground. When his vision cleared, he stared in shock up at his captor.
Bakura smiled down at him, eyes distant. The figurine lay forgotten on his chair.
"The game has just begun," he breathed, glancing briefly over at the thief king before laughing. "Isn't it exciting? We can play all night, and neither of you need to leave until we're finished…"
Struggling, the entity was shocked to find that he couldn't throw the boy off. "Let Me go," he hissed threateningly.
Bakura only laughed harder. "Not yet," he teased. "You wanted to play a game, and now that you're finally here with me in the flesh, we can play, you and your past self and me, we can all play."
He flung out a hand and all exits vanished – all doors, all windows.
"No one's leaving till we're done."