Yeah, yeah, chapter four is arriving to your watch messages today! The music that got me through writing this chapter, and probably heavily influenced my writing was the Inception score (thank the heavens for Hans Zimmer). And if you haven't seen Inception, go watch it, because it is the best movie ever, and it has Leonardo DiCaprio! What more do you need in life?

Disclaimer: Hmm, last time I checked, I don't own anything, but maybe in my wildest dreams I do.

Part One: Mariku

The tan Egyptian slammed his hand down onto his plush red chair, angrily watching the slim pale figure recede. The little bitch not only had the full amount, but he had also stood up to his helper! Not that he blamed him for refusing Ryujii, but he still shouldn't piss off his suppliers. Standing up, Mariku made his way to the opulent bathroom and stared at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was limp and hanging around his shoulders, not standing up on edge like it usually was. He looked into the cabinet for some of his gel, and sighed when none was to be found. Mariku hadn't left his house recently, the police were getting too close for comfort, and he certainly didn't want to be arrested at this critical juncture. He was close to being the only drug dealer in New York; a major player, at least. He could care less about those little idiots that roamed the Bronx, looking to sell.

He tapped his chin thoughtfully as he stared into the mirror, thinking about why Bakura hadn't contacted him yet about Mazaki. Perhaps she was dead, or maybe Yami had gotten a little…sidetracked. He growled at that thought; Mariku needed him perfectly focused for the job at hand. To kill that little….that little imposter!

(Flashback- 3 Months Ago)

Mariku was walking the streets with Ryujii, laughing raucously as he drunkenly stumbled down the streets of Manhattan. That was when he saw him. He looked almost exactly like him, save for the spiky hair, muscular build, and the air of confidence that surrounded Mariku. It was almost as like this was the broken down doll version of himself, a cracked, unloved toy, that was never played with and sat on the shelf collecting dust, waiting for the owner to realize that their doll was still waiting, wanting to be loved and played with. The imitation was wearing a slightly untidy suit and had what looked like a manuscript in a manila folder tucked into his arm. He brushed a piece of hair out from his face, and turned a corner. Mariku never saw him again.

(End Flashback)

However, he did look into the little Egyptian doppelgänger, and found some interesting things. Not only had he stolen his face, but he had stolen his name. The Arabic word for 'king' hung on the tip of Mariku's tongue, and he saw the blurry pictures of the teen. Malik Seth Ishtar. Apparently he was a wannabe author with a drinking problem, but Mariku didn't care about all of that. He just wanted him dead; he wanted to be the only one that was exotic, tanned skin, blonde hair, lavender eyes. He should be the only one to look like that, not some little bitch that had probably stumbled upon looking like that. He growled at the mirror, and then quickly smoothed out his dress shirt and slacks. Despite the police, he still had a dinner appointment with a major business man in the city about the matter of some of his merchandise, and Mariku was never one to shy away from selling something. He smoothed his hair back into a slick ponytail and tied it tight, only leaving a few hairs in the front hanging loose. He always hated having all of his hair back…it reminded him of his childhood, and he hated that. No one ever talked to Mariku about his parents, and he liked it that way. He liked being one of the most powerful men in the city, and that he could control whatever someone did or did not say to him. He took out his kohl and carefully started applying it under his eyes in a manner similar to how he had done it every day. His mother had started putting it on him when he was little, and no matter how much he hated his family, it was a habit that had stuck, so Mariku would always apply the eyeliner to around and under his eyes every day, without fail.

When he had finished making himself presentable, Mariku walked out into the hall, and was soon attacked by Ryuuji, with a tight hug from behind. Mariku growled and tried to escape the tight grasp, but Otogi only held on all the tighter.

Otogi nuzzled Mariku's shoulder blade and said cheerily. "Mariku! Let's go and do it!" Mariku turned around and looked at him annoyed, and wasn't even aware that his eyebrow was twitching slightly until Ryuuji pouted sadly. "C'mon, boss, we haven't fucked in two days, and I'm all lonely!" Mariku rolled his eyes at the pitiful attempt to get into his pants.

"Get it together, Otogi. I have to meet with Kaiba for dinner, and I'm not too happy about that, and you're making my pissy mood even worse." Nodding when Ryuuji slunk back like a kicked puppy, Mariku made his way to his car and got in. His driver sped off to his destination, while Mariku looked out the window bored then sat up straight when he saw that little fucker, Marik! He growled out quietly and dangerously. "Stop the car." He ran out, ignoring to smooth his suit (though it was expensive, Mariku could hardly give a fuck). He slid to a stop in front of him, and glared angrily. "Malik Ishtar."

Malik looked up shocked at the tall figure towering over him, and cowered slightly. He had never seen this man before in his life, and yet he knew his name and had his face. He nodded slightly in response to his name and said, "Who are you?" Mariku smirked widely grabbing the front of Malik's shirt and said laughing loudly. "The man who is going to end your life!"

He grabbed a knife, swinging it down to break Malik's skin, spurting crimson blood everywhere, making Malik scream in pain. He swung it repeatedly, splattering blood over everything, his clothes, his hair, the street, the wall, everywhere. Malik's last view was of Mariku's insane grin….then nothing.

Part Two: Malik

Malik walked down the street, humming softly to himself. He wasn't normally this happy, but a publisher had finally taken some interest in his book, so Malik decided after his part-time job at Taki's that he could indulge himself and go out and eat for dinner, instead of getting it for free from Shadi. He walked along, swinging his arms, and watched the hookers, druggies, dealers, and the scum of the city walk along with him, comrades, and partners, one and the same.

He smiled slightly at the women of the night, knowing they had just a hard a time as he did at surviving. He didn't like hookers one bit. They disgusted him, selling their body to make a bit of cheap cash that they would just spend as frivolously as they acquired it. He knew why they did it, some people really had no say in the matter, but still, it was horrifying to him to know that some women and even men would do that to themselves to make money. He looked over at a fancy Lexus sitting at the corner and sighed harshly. Rich bastards showing off their money in front of all of the scum; Malik hoped he got car-jacked because it'd be funny as hell. He watched as the man sitting in the car got out and suddenly glared at him, stalking over to where he was standing, and suddenly grabbed his shirt. Malik glared. "Who are you?" The man smiled sadistically and hissed. "The man who's going to end your life." He hit him across the face, punching his nose, making blood spurt out, and suddenly….Malik blacked out.

Malik woke up in a sterile environment, and had a throbbing pain in his head. He tried to move his hand, but found that his arm was broken. It seemed like every bone in his body was broken, but the more logical side of Malik knew that was impossible….at least, he'd be dead if that was what was happening. He looked up as the door opened, and…fuck. That white haired doctor named Bakura was walking in, and he didn't look too happy. He walked up to stand next to bedside, and towered over Malik.

"You met, Mariku, huh?" He sighed, rubbing his temples, and looked Malik straight in the eyes. Malik shrugged slightly, and said, "If by Mariku you mean the insane guy who tried to kill me, then yes." Bakura chuckled slightly. "Oh, he's not insane; he just hates you, a lot."

Malik sat up slightly and looked at Bakura. "But why? I've never even met the guy before!"

Bakura took a deep breath, sighed and said, "Here's why."

End of chapter.

Teehee. I'm being evil now.