The Assassin and The Thief

Chapter 1

(Marik's POV).

My life is an enigma to the ordinary person. They see people like me; killers, as something subhuman. A monster, or demon. That's because they can't bear the thought that a human could commit the heinous acts I have. It would drive them insane to think I experience anything resembling their own monotonous lives. That they're just like me, and we have so much in common. It scares them.

But whether you're a killer or not, or a spy, or a billionaire, everyone does the exact same things day in and day out. For example.

This morning I woke up and smoked a bowl, some weed left over from last night. It tasted wonderful and tickled my throat when I inhaled sharply through my pointed teeth. I got dressed I my usual all-black, and added some golden bling jewellery since, you know. I'm well-off. Then I combed and styled my hair. I've always been vain about my hair and demanded it comply with me. I kept at at high volume, cause I'm kind of insecure about my height. I'm only 5"8. Once my hair was done, I ate a bacon sandwich and drank instant coffee and watched the morning News.

See, I'm just like you.

It's the afternoon now and I'm lounging on my sofa, idly strumming my Flying V when there's an annoying ringing in my ear. I fumble for my phone, but then I realise it's my 'work' phone, a stupid broken disposable burner that doesn't even take pictures. Clearing my throat to put on a gruff voice, I snarl down the line. "Melvin speaking," that's my alias. Every assassin has an alias.

"I have a job for you," Is the voice-recorded response. "Come to 314 Hunteio Avenue,"

Hunteio Avenue. Thief town. The pinnacle of the Japanese organised theft syndicate; rare collectibles, jewellery, art, antiquities. I've done a couple of hits on big players from there before. Im a freelance assassin, but I'm highly sought after amongst different organisations. It doesn't take me long to discover the phone line is dead. I guess they want me to come now since they didn't specify a time.

I arrive there in my purple Astra (fuck you its a fun car and I like purple) and park behind the entrance. I knock on a vandalised door round the back, and practically get wrenched in by my black tank top. The guy who pulled me in is tall and dark, and reminds me of my brother Rishid. He says nothing, jogging up some stairs. I guess I'm supposed to follow.

Ohhhhh

When I see who hired me I'm not surprised. I've done so many jobs for this guy, including killing off his dad, but I didn't know he was into stolen merchandise. Seto Kaiba, cyber criminal and high-end hacker. Cracks alarm systems, works for terrorist organisations to break into government facilities, that sort of shit. Last I heard he was in the Middle East doing something for an Egyptian rebel group. Why's he back in Japan?

"Well if it isn't Blue Eyes," that's his alias. He's obsessed with creatures from Egyptian Shadow Games mythology, his favourite being the Blue Eyes White Dragon. So everyone calls him Blue Eyes.

"Ishtar, take a seat," he offers. I look around, confused.

"There uh...isn't a seat," I remind him. He looks around, perplexed by this odd notion.

"Oh, yeah," he nods. "Right then, I'll make this blunt," He slides a Manila file across the desk, which I grab and open.

The picture inside the cover is of some guy, really nothing special. He doesn't seem like a crime boss or anything and is definitely addicted to something. He's skinny, pale with long white hair and dark circles under his eyes. Guy looks really unhealthy. Could be a rat, I guess? Someone who saw something he wasn't supposed to? That's the only reason I can think Kaiba would want to kill someone so pathetic.

There's a listing of personal information on the guy. Kaiba is meticulous.

Name: Bakura Touzouko.
Alias: N/A.
Age: 16.
Gender: Male.
Ethnicity: Caucasian with Middle East descent.
Eye colour: Puce.
Hair colour: Unknown, dyed white.
Known hangout spots:

It really goes on like this for a while so I'll skip the boring details - seriously Kaiba needs a hobby. It states that this Bakura will most likely be wearing blue and a black trench coat. "So uh, who exactly is this guy?" I ask Kaiba, noticing there isn't really anything about his background in the file.

"That's need-to-know information," Kaiba answers, smoothly and articulately.

"Well, I need to know it to know who I'm killing," I retort smugly. His body guard, the guy who led me in, growls, and I back off. "Look, I don't do innocents. If you want some random bystander killed I'm not doing it,"

That's a lie, I'll kill anyone, but honestly I'm curious. There's something about the boy in the picture that makes me enticed to know more about him. And he's only 16...

"Look, Marik, I'm offering you three billion yen for his head,"

I freeze. Did he just say....? The most I've ever been paid is ¥20 million. Who the hell is this Bakura guy?! "Everything is in there that you'll need. I expect the job to be done efficiently, Ishtar,"

I leave the compound in a trance. I don't give a fuck who he is anymore. When I look at his file I see yen signs. They probably reflect in the whites of my fucking eyes. I'm going to be rich. One last job and I can forget this shitty fucking existence. Go to Latin America and snort as much coke as I want.

I'm coming for you, Bakura Touzouko.