Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ A Shovel And Some Faith ❯ Chapter 7

Title: A Shovel And Some Faith - Chapter 7/10

Author: whosjeebus

Rating: NC-17

Pairing(s): Seto/Jou, Bakura/OMC, threesome

Beta: Jennie B. (she blinds everyone with her super-high beams; she's a squirrel squashin', deer smackin', drivin' machine!)

Spoilers: Zip. Nada. Zilch.

Warnings: Read at your own risk. Seriously. This fic contains situations of a decidedly grotesque nature. If you get squicked, and STILL keep reading, don't blame me for your nightmares. I warned ya. I will say no more. **looks shifty-eyed**

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, and probably never will. Kazuki Takahashi will most likely take a hit out on me if he ever reads this fic.

Summary: Seto's kinks have steadily become more and more extreme, much to Jounouchi's dismay. Has he finally gone TOO far with his latest fetish?


~~~~~~~~~~*****~~~~~~~~~~



Chapter 7:

(Saturday Afternoon)


Sitting on a bench just down the street from the Domino City Police Department, Bakura mentally reviewed the information he had gathered thus far, putting forth a GREAT deal of effort to restrain himself from grabbing the nearest pedestrian and choking the life out of them. Not because he was feeling particularly malicious at the moment, but simply out of sheer frustration. He had assumed that tracking Jounouchi's killer would be simple, and that it was only a matter of using his superior intellect to assemble the pieces of the puzzle that the police were just too bloody stupid to properly grasp. He really, REALLY fucking hated it when he was wrong. Thank the gods it hardly EVER happened.

Finding out exactly what the cops knew had been beyond simple. He'd managed to review the written police report, the actual bagged and tagged evidence from the crime scene - including the murder weapon itself - and he'd even taken a swing by the forensics lab to check on the progress of various samples that had been gathered by the technicians. Child's play, all of it. The only hitch had been the absence of one Detective Youko, the lead investigator on the case, and the fact that the body itself had already been shipped off to a funeral home. Youko's report spoke well enough in his stead; though it was obvious the man was stonewalled and running out of leads fast. Bakura himself was left adrift in much the same boat, and he was becoming ANGRY. No fingerprints, no suspects, no flashes of inspiration; just a bunch of dead ends. He had almost reached the point of pulling out the photo of Jounouchi he had stolen from Ryou's dresser and asking passersby, "Did you kill this annoying punk?"

He took a deep breath and tried to look at the situation from his prey's perspective: If HE were a puppy-killing psychopath what would he -- oh, that was just NO good. It was readily apparent that he was FAR more intelligent than the killer. After all, HE would never have left behind a body to be found. Besides, he'd only frustrate himself by thinking along those lines, due to the RIDICULOUS limitations that asshole Yami had absolutely insisted on. Despite the joy he'd felt at being granted his freedom -- not to mention the perverse pleasure he'd taken in cleaning out Ryou's savings account -- he didn't like this nervous, worried feeling that made the back of his neck tingle. What if he couldn't -- Ra forbid -- find the murderer at ALL? He was so close to regaining a physical form he could practically TASTE it. Having it all snatched away when he went back to the pharaoh empty-handed was too horrid to even contemplate. Damn it all, now he was as close to panic as he could ever recall being in ALL his lifetimes combined. His blasted, weak-willed hikari must be rubbing off on him. He just needed to regain his composure and take this one step at a time; find a common link in all the clues he'd uncovered:

First up, the murder weapon. Someone had used a dog chain to strangle the brat, of all the darkly hilarious twists. It simply HAD to be someone who knew him, of that there was no doubt. Kaiba Seto may have been the first one to liken Jounouchi to a mutt, but the comparison had caught on extremely quickly, much to Jou's distinct displeasure. Bakura felt Ryou's presence inside him 'shift' uncomfortably at this assessment, and he paused. So his lighter half was listening in, eh? The little coward obviously didn't like what he was hearing. Too fucking bad.

"Oh, grow a pair, would you?" he muttered, turning his thoughts back to the matter at hand.

His second consideration was the location of the body itself. Youko's notes stated that the body was posed almost reverently, as if someone had taken great care to ensure that Jounouchi was comfortable. Perhaps the murderer regretted his actions? There was also the matter of the rape to consider. Someone had gone to town on the kid's ass -- literally -- and it had apparently been a regular occurrence for some amount of time prior to his death. This posed a whole NEW set of questions, but first things first. The position of the body spoke volumes, but what about the locale? Bakura concentrated on recalling all the intimate details he had recently read. He had of course been in a hurry, ever wary of being caught, but his recall was nothing less than PERFECT. Eons of practice had sharpened his skills to a point above reproach, until it was all second nature to him. Youko had made no specifications regarding the location, other than that it was a wooded area just outside the boundary of the massive Kaiba estate. This wasn't really helpful at all -- unless he went out there to take a look for himself and --

Ryou stirred again, giving Bakura a bit of a start. Something odd was going on here. Ryou had been decidedly 'squirmy' the entire time Bakura had spent creeping about inside the police station, and now he actually had the audacity to SPY on his better's thoughts? If that sissy little bastard knew something he wasn't telling...

Aloud he growled, "What are you hiding from me, you miserable little wretch?"

"Who are you talkin' to?"

Bakura looked up to find a slightly tubby boy of about ten standing on the sidewalk before him, clutching an ice cream cone in one hand, and swiping at his grubby face with the other. He peered at Bakura intently as melted ice cream -- in an obnoxious shade of green, no less -- ran down the side of his wrist.

"No one. Buzz off, Kid."

"What's a mizzer-bubble wrench?"

"You are. Now beat it."

"You're pretty."

"No I'm not. I'm EVIL. Evil isn't pretty."

"Are you a girl?"

Bakura narrowed his eyes at this. "Are YOU retarded?"

"Wow. You sure do have pointy teeth!"

"The better to eat you with." Bakura was starting to feel a bit cornered, his eyes shifting nervously.

"Do you like ice cream?"

Bakura snorted. "Everybody likes ice cream."

"What's your favourite flavour, then?"

"Nosy little boy. Where the hell is your mother?"

The tyke pointed across the street to a bedraggled looking young woman smoking a cigarette and talking animatedly into her cell phone. "She told me to go bother someone else while she talked to Aunt Bridget on the phone."

Bakura heaved an extremely put-upon sigh. "Great. Lucky me."

The kid's face suddenly lit up and he leaned forward to whisper slyly, "Hey, pull my finger."

"Not a chance, twerp. That trick's older than I am."

"I learned how to ride a bike with training wheels!"

"That's fucking fantastic."

"You said the 'F' word!"

Bakura sent the boy's mother a malevolent glare, silently willing her to come and fetch her annoying spawn before he lost his temper and pummeled the rotten prat. Which would be a wholly unadvisable thing to do, what with all the police officers swarming right on the other end of the block. "So I did. Better go tell your mum on me, then," he offered hopefully.

"Say it again."

"Fuckety-fuck-fuck. There. Happy? Now sod off, I'm busy."

"What does sod off mean?"

Bakura was becoming desperate. He'd faced down less daunting terrors in the Shadow Realm. "I'd tell you, but I don't feel like listening to you cry about it. Look. What's it going to take to get you to leave me alone, hmm?"

"A dollar."

"Fair enough." He pulled Ryou's wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and handed the negotiated amount over to the boy. The kid promptly snatched the dollar and made it disappear in a dexterous feat that impressed even the veteran thief. He then turned an innocently beguiling smile on Bakura and held out his hand once more. The fearless tomb robber felt his heart drop into his stomach.

"Five Dollars."

That little SHIT! "Oh for the love of - " An idea occurred to him then, and he smiled serenely down at the smugly satisfied, miniature extortionist. "I'll give you ten if you do a small favour for me."

"Sure, Mister!"

"Alright then. Take that dollar I gave you over to you mother and be sure to ask her - " Bakura scooted forward on the bench, whispering intently into one small ear as the boy screwed his face up in concentration, nodding occasionally as he listened to instructions. "Got it?"

"Got it. HEY MOM!!"

Bakura visibly flinched when the kid took off across the street, bellowing at full volume. He stood and stretched languidly, as he debated whether or not to stick around for the fallout that was sure to come. As much as he would love to see the kid get his comeuppance, he had more important things on his plate at the moment; the most pressing of which was weaseling out whatever information Ryou was attempting to conceal from him. Across the street, Bakura overheard the kid's excited voice begin babbling, and he glanced up to see one chubby finger pointed in his direction. He knew the time had come to make his exit. And make it FAST.

"Hey Mom, guess what?" The boy bounced up and down, tugging at his mother's shirt and pointing excitedly over at his new friend. "That nice man over there -- he's not a girl, he SAID! -- he gave me a dollar and -- guess what? Mom, are you LISTENING??" The woman nodded absently, covering the receiver on her phone and giving her son an irritated glare. "He gave me a dollar and told me to give it to you so HERE!" He thrust the money up at his mother, who grasped it reflexively, peering across the street in confusion. "Uh-huh, and then he said to ask you how much you charged for a good rogering! Mom, who's Roger?"

Bakura put on a bit of speed as he rounded the corner of the block, the sound of indignant squawks and outraged screeches erupting in the background. His sense of accomplishment lasted only briefly, as he was reminded once again of his quandary. Ducking quickly into the nearest darkened storefront entryway, Bakura concentrated on delving deep into his shared subconscious, attempting to ferret out Ryou's hiding place and reveal whatever it was the other boy was trying so desperately to hide from him. He latched onto a bright glimmer of memory, as his lighter half clawed frantically at Bakura's mental grip, determined to dislodge the prying tendrils from the recesses of his consciousness. Ryou was no match for Bakura's experience and prowess at mind games, and soon the ancient spirit had a crystal clear image of the damning secret his host carried so close to his broken heart.

It was just so...Ryou... that Bakura had to laugh. Oh, this was TOO rich! So his little hikari had fancied himself in love with Jounouchi, had he? Such a delicious tragedy it was, too; their parting moments coloured by animosity and betrayal, neither one realizing it would be the last time they would ever speak to one another...

Bakura stilled his laughter long enough to twist the knife a little deeper. "Don't feel bad Ryou," he taunted maliciously, "This tragedy has brought us closer together in a way." When Bakura received nothing but a wave of confused grief in response, he continued, "You see, we FINALLY have something in common. I'd always wanted to tap that ass as well."

His cruel laughter bubbled up to the surface again as Ryou attempted to retreat, horrified at this revelation. "Not so fast, little mouse. There's more you're not telling me. I know you TOO well." Bakura applied more pressure to his search, delving ever deeper, driving his hapless rival's scattered defenses to retreat before him. He almost had it...

Just a minute; what's THIS? KAIBA?? Ryou had reacted strongly to any mention of Kaiba Seto earlier. Was it even possible that -- ?

And even as the thought blossomed into being, another closely hidden memory was revealed to him. Ryou had evidently made an effort to FOLLOW Jounouchi in the week after his slight, perversely intent on discovering precisely WHO he'd been thrown over for. The heartsick teen's stalking of Jounouchi had paid off, and he was witness to a MOST curious sight. His investigation had apparently led him to observe the blond climbing into Kaiba's limousine after school one day, his demeanour positively REEKING of stealth and deception. A very interesting tidbit, indeed.

"Hmmm. So Rich-Boy is our mysterious other suitor? I can't help but notice that you neglected to mention this to Yami, pet. Thanks for the tip, by the way." Bakura could sense Ryou's dismay at the discovery of his duplicity, and he revelled in it, unable to resist, as usual, an opportunity to inflict pain on the gentle soul of his unwilling partner in crime.

"You're so fucking pathetic, Ryou. You actually thought that knowing WHO Blondie jilted you for would make things better, somehow?" The thief laughed delightedly at this ridiculous notion. "It's certainly fortunate that I'll be getting my own body soon enough. It would seem that you don't need me around to torture you anymore; you're doing such a FINE job of it all on your own." More cackling laughter, and Bakura felt Ryou begin to draw back into the furthest reaches of their shared psyche, licking his wounds as he went.

Despite what he'd said to torment Ryou, Bakura realized that this one suspicious instance didn't necessarily translate into a full-fledged relationship. He needed to gather more evidence if he were to make any type of connection between Jounouchi and Kaiba, other than sheer coincidence. If he were able to determine that the two were actually boning, Then, and ONLY then, could he begin looking for a motive strong enough to entail a brutal murder.

Simple, mutual dislike just didn't seem to be ample incentive for driving someone like Kaiba Seto to violence and subterfuge. A direct confrontation with the CEO would be pointless, he realized, and revealing all his cards this early in the game was ill-advised to say the least. Kaiba was a worthy opponent in this life and death version of cat-and-mouse, and Bakura looked forward to the challenge presented by one so skilled.

Let the games begin.

~~~~~~~~~~*****~~~~~~~~~~

Bakura had reasoned that the most opportune place to start would be with Kaiba's limousine driver. If the two teens were seeing each other on a regular basis, then who better to answer his questions than a first-hand witness? Besides, just like the chariot-drivers and litter-bearers of his native ancient Egypt, chauffeurs were notorious gossips.

Now here he stood, leaning against the immaculately clean wall of the Kaiba estate's ridiculously enormous garage, listening to his prime suspect's busy-body young driver prattle on about what kind of bottled water his employer preferred him to stock. Idle conversation was getting him nowhere; it was time to drop the subtle act. He pulled Jounouchi's photograph from the front pocket of his t-shirt and held it out to the other man.

"Seiji, can you remember if you ever gave the kid in that picture a lift, or saw him together with your boss at any time? Maybe after school?"

Seiji scratched idly at his head as he considered the question. "If it was after school, you'd have to ask the day shift driver. That'd be Miko, but she won't be on until first thing tomorrow morning. Could be the new boy-toy everyone's been talking about lately, though." He winked.

Bakura took the picture back from Seiji, his hopes soaring sky high. "Boy-toy?"

"Yeah. The servants gossip sometimes about this and that; it's human nature, right? Anyways, word is that Kaiba's been sneaking around with someone, which probably wouldn't generate so much interest if anyone had ever gotten a good look at who he was sneaking around WITH."

"So you're saying no one's ever seen this so-called love interest?"

"Well, nobody's seen MUCH of him anyway. That's how these rumours get started you know. Familiarity breeds contempt and all that." Seiji shrugged, and busied himself by polishing the limousine's sideview mirror with a dingy rag. Bakura bit the inside of his cheek in frustration, waiting for the driver to continue with his lackadaisical discourse.

"What's feeding the flames so much is Kaiba's weird behaviour. I myself have had to drop the boss man off at various hotels all KINDS of weird hours of the night, and he's been late for a few business meetings too, which NEVER happens. What's even weirder is that he's been driving himself around a lot more than usual over the last few months. Oh, and if Mokuba's out of town, then the whole freaking house staff, including yours truly, gets dismissed with pay until he comes back. We all got chased out THIS weekend, too, but he called me back in to work just a few hours ago. Been sitting around waiting ever since, and haven't heard a peep out of him."

Bakura's heart sank. "I don't suppose YOU'VE ever laid eyes on the mystery man, have you?"

Seiji shook his head. "Not his face, sorry. I know I've had him in my limo a bunch of times, but Kaiba always gets the door himself, and he keeps the partition raised between the seats. Some of the sounds coming from back there, though..." He shuddered as he continued, "Can't tell if someone's getting laid or killed."

Bakura marvelled at the driver's interesting choice of words. "Can you remember any specific place that you may have taken the two of them on one of your late night jaunts?"

"Oh sure, that's an easy one. There's this fucked-up club down in the warehouse district that they visit something like two or three times a week at least. I haven't had to drive them there at all this past week, which is kind of odd. But the place is TOTALLY creepy, S and M weirdos in chains and leather everywhere if you go late enough at night. Come to think of it, the one time I managed to get a decent glimpse of Kaiba's twink, he was wearing this black vinyl hood and being led around by a collar and leash type thing. Kinky bastards."

Bakura grasped the young man's shoulder eagerly. "Can you give me directions to this club?"

"Yeah man, no problem. You need to be extra careful though. Those freaks down there will eat you alive."

Bakura smirked as he watched Seiji jot down instructions on a sheet of paper. "I think I'll blend in just fine."

"Whatever, dude. It's your ass."

As Bakura reached for the directions, he slipped a fifty dollar bill and a small scrap of paper into Seiji's outstretched palm. The young man blinked in confusion as he stared blankly down at the money.

"The number there is for my cell phone. I'd like you to call me when and if Kaiba decides to leave the mansion. The fifty is your... incentive, not to mention it to him, shall we say?"

"I dunno, man. I don't want to get in trouble with the boss or anything. If he finds out about this..." Seiji trailed off, looking apprehensive.

"Trust me. Kaiba's a pussycat compared to what I'm capable of. Do me this one little favour and we don't have any worries, alright?" Bakura flashed him a rakish smile, full of pointed teeth.

Seiji gulped as he stuffed the cash in his back pocket with shaking fingers. "Sure thing."

Bakura flipped open Ryou's cell phone as he walked back the way he had come. This investigation was starting to turn up a few intriguing clues after all. He glanced down at the piece of paper in his hand as he called for a cab to take him to the next stop along Kaiba's trail. 'Alchemy' was the apparent name of the mysterious club where he was headed, this strange title bringing all sorts of captivating images to mind as he waited patiently.

Kaiba and his puppy were just FULL of surprises, it seemed.

~~~~~~~~~~*****~~~~~~~~~~

(Saturday Night)


Bakura stood outside the entrance to Alchemy, eyeing the club's massively muscled bouncer with distrust. Daylight had only recently faded to darkness, and the surrounding streets were still devoid of much movement. This was the area of town that didn't TRULY come to life until after the midnight hour. To Bakura, it felt a bit like home. He stepped confidently up to the frosted glass of the double doors, his passage barred by one brawny arm.

"Cover charge is a hundred bucks if you're not a member, and I don't believe that I've ever seen YOU here before." He ran his eyes up and down the thief's slender frame. "But we could probably work out some sort of arrangement if you don't have the dough."

Bakura smirked as he held out a one-hundred dollar bill. "Do you want my money or should I just drop to my knees right here?" he asked with a sneer.

"Either way is fine with me, sweet thing."

The spirit didn't even blink at this. "There's another hundred in it for YOU if you can tell me whether or not Kaiba Seto's name is on that member's list."

The bouncer took the money and grinned wickedly down at Bakura. "He is indeed. Something tells me you're not his type though. How about you stick with me for the evening instead? You're about five hours early for the REAL action around here, and I'll be off work by then, " he said suggestively.

Bakura stared with consternation at the arm that continued to block his path. "Should I even bother showing you my ID?" he asked in exasperation.

"Age doesn't really matter around here, kid." He leered at the white-haired boy, licking his lips and chucking obscenely.

"Well that's good to hear. Seeing as how I'm over 3000 years old and don't technically even exist."

The huge strongman rolled his eyes and lifted his arm out of the way. "Like I've never heard THAT one before..." He held the door open wide and waved for Bakura to follow him into the enclosed entryway. "I get a break in half an hour. If you'd care to meet me in the backroom, you'll get your cover fee back and possibly even earn yourself a lifetime pass." He grinned lasciviously. "Provided you're any GOOD, of course."

Bakura smiled nastily. "Sorry stud. I'm here on MY business, not YOUR pleasure. Besides, I bite."

Laughing loudly, the bouncer unlocked the club's inner door and held it open. "That's kind of a prerequisite for THIS place, you'll soon find out. Enjoy your visit and stay out of trouble, sweetheart. Otherwise, I'll be the one that comes looking for you." The man gave a suggestive wink at Bakura as the teen entered, and made a half-hearted attempt at fondling the boy's rear when he drifted close in passing.

Bakura stalked the rest of the way inside, grumbling under his breath. "You'll be hard pressed to find anything besides a slow, painful death once you're in the Shadow Realm, you arrogant jackass." He paused a moment to take in his surroundings, equally enamored and contemptuous of what he found.

The club was a huge, open-aired affair, fashionably dark and foreboding with high-tech lighting to emphasize the dramatic effect. The layout was divided into several sections, including a dancefloor, several stages, and a well-stocked bar, along with other, less conspicuous private rooms and 'dungeons', for lack of a better word. Pentagrams, circles, and various other archaic symbols adorned the walls, as well as a number of large flatscreen monitors, depicting various sexual, role-playing, and bondage related activities in progress. After a brief study, Bakura was able to determine that the scenes unfolding were recordings of past spectacles that had taken place on several of Alchemy's own stages. Loud, rhythmic club music permeated the atmosphere and pulsated in his ears as he peered off into the darkness. After his eyes had fully adjusted, he could discern the outlines of a number of different types of apparatus adorning the platforms. Crosses, wooden 'ponies', stocks and a variety of other 'play furniture' added that homey, sadistic touch to the overall macabre decor.

As his eyes continued their perusal of the interior, Bakura was momentarily distracted by the sight of a black-haired man in an odd, military-type uniform by leading a small, blond teenager around by a choke-chain and leash. The boy's hair fell in a single, long braid down his back and his hands were cuffed behind him. He was dressed invitingly in nothing but a snug pair of black leather trousers and matching boots. Bakura wasn't sure whether he wanted to drool or roll his eyes.

He made his way over to the giant wooden bar and took a seat on an old-fashioned padded bar stool. The bartender, a grey-haired man who'd appeared to have already seen the back end of his middle years, immediately gave him a friendly nod before sauntering over to take his order. "What'll it be, young man?"

Bakura eyed the man's name tag before answering. "Stoli, neat." He slowly and deliberately placed another hundred dollar bill in the tip jar resting on the bar between them. "And the answers to a few questions if you have the time, Jake."

"Things don't pick up 'round here for a good long while yet. I got nuthin' BUT time on my hands, 'specially for a good tipper like yourself." He turned his back and busied himself with Bakura's drink. "What didja need to know?"

"This place seems to cater to a pretty exclusive clientele. I imagine you're familiar with most of them?"

Jake nodded in affirmation as he placed the tumbler of vodka in front of his only customer.

Bakura ran his index finger around the rim of the glass, and slyly looked up at the older man through his eyelashes. "So does that mean you'd call Kaiba Seto a regular around here?"

The bartender gave Bakura an assessing look. "Membership here is expensive, but it has its privileges -- one of those privileges is anonymity. You might want to be careful about the questions you ask, boy. That's a powerful name to be throwing around so lightly."

Bakura sipped his drink and answered smoothly, "I understand. I've already confirmed that he's a member and frequent visitor. I just need you to tell me what he gets up to while he's here. And with whom, if at all possible." He placed another hundred dollars in the jar and returned the older man's frank stare.

"Well, it's pretty obvious to me that you're not a cop or a reporter, so I guess it'd be alright to tell you what I can. What you do with the information is your own damn business. Just be sure you don't end up digging your own grave with it."

Bakura pulled out the photo of Jou and slid it over. "Have you ever seen Kaiba here with this boy?"

Jake studied the picture attentively before handing it back. "Could be the little fucktoy he's usually toting around with him, it's kind of hard to tell. All's I can say for sure is that Kaiba's usual twink is a natural blond, if you know what I mean. His face just isn't the end I'm usually staring at, you understand. If that's him, then I don't mind telling you that those two were responsible for one of the most successful performances we're ever had here at Alchemy, hands down."

"Performance?"

"Yeah. It's a damn shame that Kaiba wouldn't let us tape it. That would have made me a huge bundle of cash, no doubt about it. I still get requests for it, and it's been over a week. Hate having to turn 'em away like that."

Bakura put his elbows on the bar and leaned forward hungrily. "Tell me about it."

The bartender grinned, already gearing up for his tale. "You're gonna love this. Kaiba brought his 'puppy', as he always called him, in last Saturday night, but instead of heading straight for a private dungeon like they always do, he just strips the kid down in front of God and everybody, bends him over, and slaps him in the stocks over there on the "free-for-all" stage. Can you believe it? I tell you, a line formed within ten seconds after Kaiba sat down at the bar. That is, after everyone had picked their jaws up off the floor, anyways. The bunch of old pervs that hang around this place ALWAYS get a little crazy when some jailbait ass gets offered up for the taking." He laughed, a deep booming sound filled with amusement. "I had to ask what the hell his poor sub had done to deserve THAT kind of punishment, but all he said was that it had been a 'request.' Isn't that the wildest shit you've ever heard?"

Jake thumped his meaty fist down on the wooden surface of the bar, and Bakura jumped a bit in surprise. He'd been lost in his own imagination somewhat, picturing the scene described and enjoying the response his groin was having to the man's words. He squirmed around a bit on the uncomfortable stool, adjusting the crotch of his jeans to alleviate any tightness there. He was only dimly aware of Ryou's shock reverberating throughout his subconscious; the teenager finally making the connection that all this had occurred the same night as Jou's gentle rebuff of his advances. Bakura hid a small, fiendish smile behind one hand. Even better.

"What happened after that?"

"Well, Kaiba started drinking pretty heavily while he watched the show. Or DIDN'T watch, I should probably say. After the first two or three had their turn, he just clenched his teeth and stared into his drink. I swear to God, I thought he was gonna burst a blood vessel or something, he was wound so tight. Anyway, I guess maybe ten Doms and even a couple of the Dominas had the kid six ways from Sunday before Kaiba goes back up there and shoos the rest of them off. I'll never forget this next part though. Gives me goosebumps every time I even THINK about it." Jake leaned over the bar, whispering conspiratorially as Bakura pressed forward to meet him halfway, feeling slightly light-headed, and not just from the alcohol. "So Kaiba puts on this latex glove, lubes his hand and arm up real good and just SHOVES his fist up the kid all the way to the elbow." Jake pulled back, shaking his head in abject wonder. "Except for the screaming, you coulda heard a pin drop in this place."

Bakura's tongue felt a little too thick for his mouth as he asked, "Then what?"

"Oh, I saved the best for last. It was a real show stopper, let me tell you. Once he gets the kid calmed down, he leans over and whispers all sexy-like in his ear. All he says is, "Come," and Blondie just shoots all over himself and passes out cold. Damnedest thing I ever did see, and I've seen a LOT, working here. Lemme tell you, manning the bar at Alchemy has made me privy to some pretty bizarre activity. Those two though, they're practically too hot to handle. That kind of shit is always good for business, as you can imagine. I hope we see 'em around here again soon; it's been a while."

"I wouldn't count on it." Jake peered at him curiously, but Bakura just ignored the strange look. "I don't suppose you've left out any, uh, important details?"

"You know, everyone always asks me that. Guess a story like that is just too good to have an ending, huh?" He shrugged, taking Bakura's empty glass and depositing it in the sink behind him. "Sorry to disappoint, but nothing much happened after that. Funny thing is, with the puppy out cold, Kaiba was as sweet as could be. Pulled his arm out all gentle-like, cleaned the kid up, patched him up with the first aid kit and everything. When the poor twink finally came back around, he couldn't even walk, so Kaiba just picked him up and waltzed on out of here like they'd just had a nice champagne brunch or something. Left most of the cocks in the place hard and wanting more."

Bakura raised his eyebrows at this. "I'll bet..." he muttered quietly.

Laughing, Jake slung his towel over one shoulder and kept talking. "Seems that Kaiba got a mite possessive after watching half the regulars here dick his little boytoy, not that I blame him. The other half are STILL bitching about not being here that night. I bet that even Arric couldn't talk him into a repeat performance, though. That was pure and unadulterated jealousy on his face, ain't no mistaking it."

Bakura perked his ears up. "Arric?"

Jake nodded. "Yep. Master Arric actually. He's another member here that you should probably chat up if you're looking for information on Kaiba and his puppy. The three of them got kind of close there for a while; they had a bunch of private sessions with Arric when they first started coming around. In fact, I think he may already be here tonight, gearing up for later." The bartender pointed off into the gloom, just behind and to Bakura's right. Third private room on your left, right next to the rack of bullwhips; you can't miss it."

Bakura jumped up and headed down the short hallway, calling his thanks over his shoulder. Jake waved his towel and chuckled softly to himself. "Have fun, kid."

The ancient spirit could hardly contain his excitement as he rapped twice on the door in front of him. Surely this Arric character would provide all the evidence he needed to confirm a relationship between Jounouchi and Kaiba. And a fairly abusive sounding one at that. Apparently, motive wasn't as far out of reach as he had first thought. If Kaiba was as prone to jealousy as Jake's tale seemed to indicate, then it was even possible that the CEO may have discovered Ryou's interest in the mutt and murdered him to prevent him from leaving.

Bakura experienced a moment of sadistic glee as he pondered how the news that he might be indirectly responsible for Jounouchi's death would affect the kind-hearted Ryou. His follow-up thought sobered him somewhat, as it dawned on him that if the motive was pure, jealous rage, then why had Kaiba stopped with killing only Jounouchi? Shouldn't he have come to seek revenge on Ryou as well? Perhaps it was time to start looking over his OWN shoulder, just in case; self-preservation was a instinct he had honed well in his former line of work.

He didn't have time to dwell on it any further as a deep voice spoke from the other side of the door. "Enter."

Bakura stepped cautiously inside, always on the look-out for traps or a hidden ambush as he closed the door softly behind him. The first thing he noticed about Arric, besides the fact that he was dressed from head to toe in skintight black leather, was that he was tall and thin, with a body reminiscent of Ryou's friend Otogi, and wearing twice as much eyeliner. The long, unruly, black hair and grey eyes, combined with a slightly rounded face put him more in mind of an adult version of Kaiba's brother Mokuba; although he decided to save THAT tantalizing thought for later when he was alone again. Bakura idly wondered if that remarkable resemblance ever occurred to Kaiba himself. Definitely additional food for thought.

His musings were cut short once again by Arric's sultry voice, more demanding this time around. "Remove your clothing and kneel by the foot of the bed. I'll be with you in just a moment." Arric turned his back on the white-haired boy, and began arranging instruments on a nearby table. From his vantage point, Bakura could make out various clamps, needles, and rings all arranged in neat rows.

"I'm flattered, but I'm actually not here to partake of your...services, I'm afraid. I have a few questions regarding a client of yours."

Arric gave his guest an assessing glance from over his shoulder. "And do ~ I ~ get anything in return if I answer these questions to your... satisfaction?" he purred, coming to stand uncomfortably close to the smaller boy, arrogantly believing his height advantage to be intimidating.

Bakura refrained from rolling his eyes at such an amateur tactic. His brain offered up the response, "You might just get to keep your balls intact if you're lucky," while his mouth smiled sweetly and replied aloud, "How about my eternal gratitude?"

Arric smiled down at him condescendingly, "If you're certain that's ALL you're willing to offer..." He trailed his gloved fingers lightly over Bakura's throat, stalking around in a circle to stand behind him. He leaned over just slightly, moving the long mass of white hair aside as he breathed hot, moist air over the back of the boy's pale neck.

Bakura clenched his fists and restrained himself from whirling around and putting Arric's eyes out with his bare hands. "Information is all I'm interested in tonight."

"Pity, " Arric murmured huskily in Bakura's ear. "You're an exquisite beauty. I would have enjoyed breaking you." He completed his circuit of the teenager before him, and came to a stop with his arms posed loosely over his chest. He locked eyes with the smirking tomb robber.

Bakura wasn't about to back down. He had dealt with Arric's type too many times before and had always emerged on top. "I doubt if you could handle me."

"You don't bottom?"

"I didn't say THAT. I'm not terribly choosy about where or how I take my pleasure, but I submit to NO ONE." Grey eyes held dark brown for an interminable amount of time before the standoff ended, Arric looking away first.

He covered his discomfiture with false bravado. "If you're not here for training, then what kind of information are you looking for, beautiful?"

"I understand you had something of a working relationship with Kaiba Seto?"

Arric nodded distractedly, lost in thought. "He came to me for training as a Dom some time ago. I was only TOO willing to help of course, especially after I got a glimpse of that delicious sub of his."

Bakura's fingers fumbled at his shirt pocket as he dug around for Jou's photo excitedly. "Is this him?"

Arric devoured the photo with his eyes, giving Bakura all the answer he needed. "Yeah, that's the puppy. You don't forget a face like that." He reached out to caress the picture gently with his fingertips. "Those amber eyes in particular. They have such a feminine tilt to them, so very exquisite and expressive -- especially when they're filled with beautiful pain..."

Bakura was tempted to snap his fingers in front of this pretentious fool's face in order to bring him back down to earth, but fortunately, he came around again on his own, drawing his hand back against his chest in a somewhat protective gesture. "Shame though. I doubt that the two of them will ever be back."

Bakura hid his smirk behind a curtain of ivory hair. "You have NO idea..."

"Pardon?"

"Err, what gives you the idea that they're not coming back?" he countered swiftly, wondering if his instincts could be wrong. Was it possible that Arric could be Jounouchi's killer? He certainly seemed to be sufficiently obsessive over him. He found this new, unknown factor to be vaguely irritating. He had to be SURE about this, dammit. That bastard of a worthless pharaoh would use any loophole available to cheat Bakura out of getting his own body.

"Kaiba and I had a bit of a falling out when I informed him that I was ending our training sessions. Honestly, he was so angry about it that I've been jumping at shadows and looking over my shoulder for the past few weeks."

"What exactly happened?"

Arric leaned casually against one wall, a smug grin creeping across his face. He was in full lecture mode, now. "You have to understand one thing. This lifestyle may seem a bit... extreme, to an outside observer, but the guidelines have ALWAYS been, Safe, Sane, and Consensual. Seto had marvelous Dom potential, with the exception of one major hang-up."

Bakura waited patiently for the arrogant fool to continue. As much as he wanted, no, NEEDED the idiot to continue his diatribe, there was no WAY in seven hells he was going to give Arric the satisfaction of actually ASKING him to elaborate.

The dungeon master seemed vaguely disappointed as he picked up from where he had left off. "Seto had no self-discipline. He was always pushing too far, too fast." He shook his head in bemusement, his long, dark hair falling around his face. "If he didn't get what he wanted, right that second, he was prone to throwing a temper tantrum and just taking whatever it was anyway. He didn't respond well to being told no."

Bakura had to admit that this didn't conflict at all with what he knew of Kaiba Seto. Perhaps Arric had a bit of insight into the situation after all. He remained patient as he listened to the man's further explanation of Kaiba's 'lessons'.

"A Dom must ALWAYS be in control of his body and mind. Seto just couldn't hack that part, no matter how often I tried to drill it into him. He was just too stubborn and hot-headed to listen. It's like he didn't believe the rules applied to HIM, or something."

"How did you come to the conclusion that he was a hopeless case?"

Arric laughed, seeming a bit bitter about the whole thing. If he knew the whole truth, he probably WOULD regard it as one of his more spectacular failures; of that, Bakura was certain. "Oh it wasn't just Kaiba; it was his puppy, too."

Now they were getting somewhere. Bakura pasted a bored expression on his face. "How so?"

Looking distinctly uncomfortable for the first time since they'd started talking, Arric ran his fingers through his unruly mass of hair in a self-conscious gesture. "Well, when we first started training in breathplay, I could tell pretty easily that the kid wasn't really OK with it, but he refused to speak up. Kaiba didn't allow safewords, EVER, and it's pretty much the sub's responsibility to set the limits of the scene before it begins. A good sub isn't just a doormat, but a willing participant." Once again, he warmed to his subject. "Truth be told, in the IDEAL set-up, the sub is the one pulling all the strings. Kaiba's puppy was so blindly in love with him that he allowed his Dom to get away with ANYTHING. It was just a recipe for destruction, so I ended the sessions and advised them to try communicating a little better." He shrugged, as if to say, "not my problem anymore". "It seemed to make an impression on the puppy, but Seto was so fuming mad at being denied, that I don't think he heard a word I said."

A soft murmur of, "Obviously not," was the tomb robber's only immediate response. It would seem that SOMEONE, at least, had seen this coming, whether he did anything to prevent it or not. Could Kaiba and Jounouchi BOTH have been so blind?

Bakura thought over the information he'd managed to garner thus far. His conversation with Arric had filled in a number of blanks. He'd already disregarded the dungeon master as a suspect, of course; the idiot actually seemed to BELIEVE the tripe he'd been spouting. Bakura marvelled that one could be so willfully ignorant. In ancient Egypt, a slave had been just that -- an object, property -- they could be treated in any manner their owner saw fit. No rights, no freewill, no hope for anything better; just a grim determination that made them cling to the belief that the gods held something painless in store for them after death. A master held that power, the power to grant or deny the release of death; and they had no choice but to accept that their fate, for good or ill, was at the discretion of another human being's fractious whim.

Bakura ground his teeth together, growling softly under his breath. If these mortals only knew... This modern day play-acting was a mockery at best. Anyone who submitted to such treatment willingly had to be certifiably insane. In Bakura's opinion, Jounouchi had been granted exactly what he deserved for allowing himself to be used so harshly, all in the name of love. Bakura snorted. It was FAR more pathetic than tragic, really.

Ryou made his presence known once more, protesting weakly at his darker half's cruel assessment of the boy he'd loved. Bakura ruthlessly shoved his light's compassion away with a snarl. Nothing in that spectrum of emotions held any appeal for him anymore. What was the point?

Arric had taken his guest's lingering presence and thoughtful demeanour to mean the tempting creature was debating his earlier offer, and he made the decision to up the ante a bit. He was desperate to get his hands on all that smooth, pale flesh by any means necessary. "Was there anything else I could interest you in while you're here?" he purred, slowly removing his leather gloves. "I HAVE been known to sub on occasion, but only in VERY special circumstances." He trained appraising eyes on Bakura's face. "I'd be willing to go for a one-off, if you can convince me you know what you're doing..."

Bakura peered around the room at the various tools and implements resting on racks and affixed to the walls. It didn't take him long to determine that these were simply modern interpretations of devices he was already intimately familiar with from both sides. Here was yet another game he could make up his own rules for... He had to admit to himself that the idea certainly held merit. He'd been giving it a lot of thought since he'd stepped through those double doors -- Jake's tantalizing tale had left him with a very aroused, very unsatisfied reminder of those thoughts -- what would be the harm in a little... indulgence?

"A long, LONG time ago, I myself spent a number of years as a slave," he tried out the unfamiliar words, distaste colouring his features. He didn't make a habit of discussing his past, with good reason. How had this dreadfully tasteless place managed to bring out his maudlin side?

He grabbed a leather handled flogger off of a nearby rack and deftly ran his fingers through the braided strands. "This body doesn't have the scars to show it, but the fact remains that souls still bear every mark inflicted upon them. Were you aware of this, MASTER Arric?" he sneered derisively. "I learned and suffered under the tutelage of truly the very BEST ancient Egypt had to offer." under his breath he added, "and I have you, Yami, to thank for every degrading second of it."

He struggled uselessly with his ever-present anger and hatred, it's power darkly seductive and overwhelming. And here this fool stood, waiting, practically BEGGING for that force to be unleashed upon him. "So here's your moment of truth, Arric. Would you like me to demonstrate what those sadistic bastards taught me? The choice is yours."

Head bowed, Arric nodded numbly, a zealot's fire burning in his stormcloud grey eyes.

A feral grin lit Bakura's face, and his own eyes blazed with barely restrained eagerness. His commanding voice brooked no argument, "Strip. All of it." He paced across the room, prodding Arric with the flogger's blunt handle as he passed back and forth. "Every article of clothing, every buckle, strap, and piercing - take them off."

When Arric had complied with these orders, Bakura eyed the small dungeon's assorted apparatus critically. "Now turn around. Grab that bar over your head. Good." Bakura came forward then, pressing himself firmly up against his charge's nude back, stretching upward slightly to whisper menacingly in his ear. The words came back to him easily enough, infinitely easier, in fact, to speak rather than hear, though they sounded no less guttural and cruel, tranlated from their native Egyptian:

"If you utter so much as a single SQUEAL, boy, you're going to pray to Ra that your mother had never rutted with that jackal you call a father." His own special touch, Bakura added onto the end as he trailed the leather braids of the whip over Arric's bare chest, "I'm going to show you the true meaning of the title, 'Master'."

~~~~~~~~~~*****~~~~~~~~~~

tbc