Keisotsu Na Torihiki

A/N: Written on a dare from rayemars' bio page. I usually base the vast majority of my stuff on the manga.. but since Keith is dead before Malik even comes into the picture in the manga.. this is a bit of a mishmash of elements. In order to avoid using any Japanese grammatical elements and yet keep Rishid's manner of speechra-pra-polite, he sounds a bit weird.

KEISOTSU NA TORIHIKI -- Ill-advised Dealings

A robed figure sidled down the corridor, pausing at a corner to listen for footsteps. His own seemed to dissapear into the muted shadows cast by the torches, and while he didn't think he was likely to run into anyone at this time of night, he didn't want to risk it. And if all else failed... his own gun was probably on the bottom of the ocean outside Pegasus' island, so he'd had to steal one from one of the other Rare Hunters quickly before he left quarters.

Quickly sidling around another corner, Keith focused on his objective. These Rare Hunter fools might be willing to serve some freakish 'master', he thought, but not me. Time to get out of here while the getting is good -- and take a little parting gift. There were muttered whisperings among the Ghouls, of incredibly rare and powerful 'god cards', and with the aid of a few bottles of beer, Keith had managed to talk the location of one out of a half-drunken Rare Hunter.

Even luckier for me, he thought, it's inside the complex no less. Grab it and go -- I'm not going to sit around waiting on some third-world reject hand and foot. Two days here is more than long enough already.

Malik, he recalled the name, remembering what he'd seen from the brief glimpse on the boat. Decked out in ostentatious heavy gold jewelery, bleached blond hair, and the long cloak draped over top. All that gold, he considered as he kept walking, has to be worth a fortune. I wonder if I should...

But then the image of Malik's face crossed his mind, the one shudder-inducing look from the crazed violet eyes that he'd gotten when he was first hauled aboard the ship, sputtering and choking on salt water. You are a toy, it said plainly to him, and I saved you, so I own you now. You had better be grateful.

Fuck, Keth thought sourly, I'm not scared of that weird Egyptian earring-wearing fag, it's just that.. all that gold would be hard to carry. That's all it is. Nothing else.

He slipped around the last corner, to his last stop before leaving for good -- a large room containing only a solitary glass case. Giving the area a cursory inspection, Keith hurried over the the case and lifted the glass, finally setting his fingers upon the golden brown surface of the card and carefully lifting it from the holder. "The Sun of God Dragon," he muttered, reading off the header and giving the thing a puzzled stare. Attack: ????, Defense: ????. What the hell?

It desn't matter, he decided. It definitely is the real thing, not some sort of phony card, and obviously incredibly rare if I'd never even heard of it before. He carefully put the glass cover back down, and was just about to conceal the card in his sleeve, when he noticed the faintest reflection on the glass.

Keith whirled, reaching for the gun he'd hidden under his cloak, but fumbling the precious card into his other hand made him lose valuable fractions of a second. He glimpsed only a brief flash of green-gold eyes and solemn expression before the heavy fist of Malik's most trusted servant came around to meet his head, and he fell, spiralling into darkness.


****


"Lord Malik," the deep voice resolved into words as Keith regained conciousness. Lying on the floor, he realized. Stifling a groan, he turned his head just in time to see the precious God card being held out by a deeply-bowing Rishid... and being accepted by Malik's slim gold-ringed hand.

"Well, that was certainly bold of him, wasn't it?" Malik said.

"Yes, Lord Malik."

Malik idly fingered the golden.. what the hell is that suppose be be anyway, a sceptre? Keith wondered groggily.

"Well, well, and look at this. It looks like he's waking up." Malik remarked, violet eyes narrowing in humor at Keith's predicament. "I think I'd like to hear an explanation for your behavior, Keith," he hissed the name, despite the lingering smirk. "...Bandit Keith, isn't it? How appropriate."

There wasn't going to be any better moment for action. Keith shifted slightly to feel the butt of he gun prod his ribs. Still there, perfect! In a fluid movement, he rolled to the side and pulled the gun, aiming at Rishid. Startled green-gold eyes met his own, Rishid freezing mid-movement. Keith hurriedly got to his feet and, despite feeling a little dizzy, shuffled backwards a few yards, to gain a little more distance in case one or the other tried to attack him anyway.

"I don't have to explain anything to you," he sneered breathlessly at Malik. "Just give me the rare card -- I was planning on leaving this hell-hole anyway, so just give it to me and nobody gets hurt."

"I really don't think so," Malik said calmly. All traces of amusement had left his face, those pinpoint-pupilled eyes narrowing on the gun and its current target, Rishid. "And you will stop threatening Rishid. Right now."

"Oh yeah? You have some way to make me?" Keith sneered, heartbeat racing. "Some great leader you are. All talk and no show."

Malik stroked the golden rod held in one hand gently. "Give up now Keith, and I might spare you."

"Fuck you! Just give me the damn card already!"

"There's no point in resisting, Keith," Malik said, leisurely pushing himself up off the throne. The God Card was left behind, sitting on the arm of the throne. He tossed the hood of his robe back, stylishly ragged blond hair trailing across his shoulders. His earrings jingled faintly in the silence.

Keith's finger trembled on the trigger, swinging to target Malik. "Don't try anything, asshole!" he yelled.

Malik only smiled, and brandished the Rod with a flourish, ending wihe ghe golden eye facing Keith. "I'm not going to /try/ anything." The smile became vicious, a catlike predatory snarl. "You have no right to be using such harsh words in my presence. You are nothing more than a pathetic pawn who needs to learn his place."

Keith's finger tightened on the trigger, about to pull, as the eye on the Rod shone with an unearthly purple-white light and his body was flung back against the wall. The gun, still clutched in his hand, now pointed out to the back wall, far from anyone. He tried to move, but it felt as though his body was weighted down, unmovable. "What.. the..." he choked out the words.

Malik slowly advanced, one casual step at a time; behind him, Rishid still knelt, dispassionate gaze upon the situation. "You seriously think you can threaten my company? I've really had enough of this." The Egyptian gestured with the rod again, and against Keith's will, his own arm swung back and pressed the barrel of the gun, hard, against his own temple.

"After all, going against my will is like asking for death. So do it, Keith. Ready, aim." Malik paused for a minute, to let the full effect sink into Keith's mind.

He licked his lips and fly sly spoke again, "Fire."

Keith screamed and shut his eyes as his finger pulled the trigger.

Click.

"Oh, you are lucky," he heard from behind his closed eyelids, accompanied my an amused chuckle. "Did you not even check to see if the gun you so thoughtfully borrowed was even loaded? Open your eyes, Keith. You can't escape your fate that way."

Against his will, yet again, Keith obeyed, horrified eyes staring straight into Malik's own. Peripheral vision revealed Rishid had averted his gaze, down to the floor, but was otherwise unmoved.

"Are you going to be so lucky again though?" Malik smiled. "What do you think, Rishid? I /suppose/ he could be useful still."

"As Lord Malik wishes," Rishid said, still looking at the floor in from of him.

"Go return the God Card," Malik informed his servant. "I'll take care of this from here on."

Immobile, Keith could do nothing but watch as Rishid rose to his feet and picked up the card carefully from the throne. "Of course," he said, bowing once in Malik's direction before turning and heading back into the main corridor of the complex. The quiet footfalls quickly dwindled away into silence, leaving the tension in the air thick and ominous.

Malik abruptly turned and paced back towards his throne, leaving Keith pinned by an unseen force against the wall. "You've seen a fraction of my power," he said casually. "Are you now willing to admit that you are nothing but a useful pawn and behave yourself, Badit Keith?" He turned back around, slitted violet eyes langorously gauging Keith's reaction.

"Go to hell, you psychotic bastard," Keith worked up enough movement to spit, the wad of fluid falling far short of Malik's feet. "I'm nobody's slave."

"That's where you're wrong," Malik said, raising the rod once more. The golden eye twingled unnervingly in the faint light. "You are entirely my slave!"

The light in Keith's own eyes dimmed, leaving them blank and glazed-over, feverish, as the rod shone even more brightly.

"Come here," Malik purred, pointing with the rod at his feet, "my new mind-slave."

Keith, freed from the paralysis, slowly walked, zombie-like, towards Malik and stopped a few feet away. He swayed gently on his feet, eyes staring blankly off into the distance. Malik examined him, running his fingers lightly along the surface of his rod. He shrugged off his robe, his bronzed skin appearing nearly the same color as his golden armbands in the dim and flickering light. "Demonstrate your subservience, mind-slave," he smirked at his new toy. "On your knees."

Keith knelt obediently. Malik grabbed a handful of the dirty blond hair in one hand and jerked Keith's head back. His other hand moved down to the waistband of his own pants, flicking the buckle open. A twisted smile formed formed on Malik's face.

"Open," he ordered.

Keith obediently opened his mouth and sat, still, on the cold tiled floor.

Malik pulled down his pants, just enough to be able to free his hardening cock from the confines of the material. "And relax," he added to his previous command, guiding his minion's hot mouth onto his hardness. He hissed at the heat and wet, but didn't stop, thrusting himself further inside. Involuntarily, Keith's throat spasmed and tongue tried to force the choking invader out; his master only softly grunted as the tongue moved against bottbottom of his dick and panted out, "I said, relax!" The tortuous contraction stopped, and Malik grunted as he thrust fully in in one swift movement, his balls slapping up against his slave's stubbled chin. After a short while savoring the feeling, he began to move, gripping his newest minion's hair and fucking his mouth at a steady pace.

"Suck," he added with a satisfied little snarl, breath coming heavily as he sped up. Obeying, Keith began to suck and run his tongue along Malik's length as it continued to be thrust in and out. Malik idly noted the tiny marks of resistance.. Keith's eyes had closed tightly shut, hands clenched at his sides. The little resistance was enjoyable, he thought as he grinned maliciously, knowing that somewhere inside Keith knew what was happening and could fully appreciate his punishment. "Faster," he hissed, another sharp order.

Finally, Malik gasped sharply, pulling Keith's head hard against him and shoving his cock as far down into that hot hole as he could. Throwing his head back, he groaned and came in pulses down Keith's throat.

Malik collapsed back against his throne, flushed and with eyes still heavy-lidded. Keith continued to sit on the floor, eyes closed but mouth slackly open, with a trace of fluid at the corner of his mouth. Neither moved much further for a minute, Malik's breathing slowly returning to normal. Finally, he stretched out a leg to place to sole of his boot against his slave's chest and pushed, sending Keith toppling to the floor in a disorganized heap. "Good. Get out of my sight. Show up at the main entrance tomorrow morning."

"Yes, Lord Malik," Keith droned, jerkily rising to his feet and stumbling like a badly-manipulated marionette towards the exit.

"Oh, and bring your deck.. I think I have a job for you..."