Yami no Bakura (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
denyamenti) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tushanshu_logs2014-05-03 08:25 pm
denyamenti) wrote in tushanshu_logs2014-05-03 08:25 pm
Entry tags:
[Closed] Unto the Living Ones
Characters: Bakura & Costigan
Date: May 1st
Location: Fire Sector → FI-3A
Situation: Reviving from being killed by the Mandarin, Costigan checks in on Bakura after the thief didn't get the answers he wanted about a Foreigner wearing black armor.
Warnings/Rating: Likely a warning for language.
The last thing that Bakura had remembered was the awful sensation of icy cold water rushing into his lungs, paralyzing him. It had even made the sharp pain of having his torso ripped open seem tame. He'd opened his eyes in an unfamiliar room with the kedanese healer Milyn tutting over him, wads of bloody bandages in her hands.
"Well, well!" she had scolded him primly. "What a mess YOU were! Don't do that again!"
The thief had divested himself from her care as soon as possible, blatantly ignoring her insistence that he should be at rest, that she wasn't done healing him (and given the deep gashes still marring his chest, he'd snapped waspishly at her that he had noticed) and let himself out of the small clinic. The walk from the Water Sector to his suite in Fire had been painful and felt as if it had taken twice as long as normal; his vision was swimming by the time he'd let himself inside. A part of him reasoned that being in his assigned suite, where he was most easily located, was possibly not the wisest idea but he was in no shape to reconsider. He'd set the Trap Barrel Behind The Door and fell into a feverish sleep.
Ha Unas an sem-nek as met-th sem-nek anxet...
Waking had let him get some proper perspective on what had happened. He'd been caught off-guard by his attacker yes, but his traps and spells had been woefully ineffectual on the black-armored figure. That in itself was worrisome and he'd turned to the consoles, only to discover that first, more days had passed then he'd initially realized and second, that there were much larger things at work. So Malicant makes his move. Could the person who'd attacked him been one of Malicant's lackey? But no, the attack was very focused, enraged, and felt very directed at him.
Bakura didn't know who'd killed him and he didn't know why. Given his past experience, that was less traumatizing but still aggravating. When his initial inquiry to Costigan had yielded no information, he resigned himself to doing some more in-depth research which probably wasn't a bad idea while he recovered and planned. If that black figure thought they were going to get away with this, they truly had no idea who they were dealing with.
Date: May 1st
Location: Fire Sector → FI-3A
Situation: Reviving from being killed by the Mandarin, Costigan checks in on Bakura after the thief didn't get the answers he wanted about a Foreigner wearing black armor.
Warnings/Rating: Likely a warning for language.
The last thing that Bakura had remembered was the awful sensation of icy cold water rushing into his lungs, paralyzing him. It had even made the sharp pain of having his torso ripped open seem tame. He'd opened his eyes in an unfamiliar room with the kedanese healer Milyn tutting over him, wads of bloody bandages in her hands.
"Well, well!" she had scolded him primly. "What a mess YOU were! Don't do that again!"
The thief had divested himself from her care as soon as possible, blatantly ignoring her insistence that he should be at rest, that she wasn't done healing him (and given the deep gashes still marring his chest, he'd snapped waspishly at her that he had noticed) and let himself out of the small clinic. The walk from the Water Sector to his suite in Fire had been painful and felt as if it had taken twice as long as normal; his vision was swimming by the time he'd let himself inside. A part of him reasoned that being in his assigned suite, where he was most easily located, was possibly not the wisest idea but he was in no shape to reconsider. He'd set the Trap Barrel Behind The Door and fell into a feverish sleep.
Ha Unas an sem-nek as met-th sem-nek anxet...
Waking had let him get some proper perspective on what had happened. He'd been caught off-guard by his attacker yes, but his traps and spells had been woefully ineffectual on the black-armored figure. That in itself was worrisome and he'd turned to the consoles, only to discover that first, more days had passed then he'd initially realized and second, that there were much larger things at work. So Malicant makes his move. Could the person who'd attacked him been one of Malicant's lackey? But no, the attack was very focused, enraged, and felt very directed at him.
Bakura didn't know who'd killed him and he didn't know why. Given his past experience, that was less traumatizing but still aggravating. When his initial inquiry to Costigan had yielded no information, he resigned himself to doing some more in-depth research which probably wasn't a bad idea while he recovered and planned. If that black figure thought they were going to get away with this, they truly had no idea who they were dealing with.
no subject
The undercover remained where he was through the process, watching, without comment on the process itself. He didn't offer to help, confidence Bakura would ask if he needed it and just as confident that the man wouldn't need any help at all. "And why the hell isn't it healed if you died? You should have a new body."
Clones and all.
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"Claws, not teeth," he answered. He finished wrapping the bandages, the ends tucked secure without any fasteners or pins and he pulled the shirt down again to cover them; they'd been done so that the clothing covered them entirely, disguising the injury unless one knew it was there.
"As for healing... that kedan woman seemed insistent I stay and let her finish mending me. After I got here and heard about manufactured bodies, I suspected there was more to it than that. This isn't an exact copy of the form I was using when I was brought here... but neither is it a copy of what is my real body."
Putting the medical supplies back in the drawers and tossing the used bandages into the trash, Bakura held his arm out for the undercover to see. Along the inside of his forearm were two small, dark blue lines, the pigment beneath the skin not unlike a prison ink tattoo. "I added these a few weeks after arriving here. If we're getting new bodies, why include these on the replacements? I can't speak to before now, but it appears they've gone to more of a recycling method."
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"If your body isn't yours or anyone else's, then what is it?" This was the first time he'd heard of someone being less than exact. Even Bruce Banner has expressed both confusion and admiration of the kedans' ability to replicate his complex DNA, with all its.. peculiarities. It was something to ask Evandau about, at the very least.
Costigan's gaze again turned to one of confusion and concern as he stared at the lines. It was an important piece of information, one he wondered if Bakura knew the significance of.
"Thanks." For showing me. "Most of the scientists I knew are gone, but I can ask around about that too."
no subject
It wasn't as though Bakura had planned on dying while in Keeliai but the fact that he'd put the marks on his arm suggested that he considered it a viable enough possibility to make contingency for. Whether his body was cloned, created, or any other combination thereof ultimately didn't bother him as much as it would some people. He hadn't had his own body for centuries -- getting up in arms about where this particular one had come from was beyond trivial to him.
"But ask around of you want, the armor is more pressing to me... that is what I am after."
no subject
"Try me." It sounded every bit the challenge it was meant to be. He was keen to ignore magic when he could, sure, but it was also becoming more apparent that he couldn't always do so. Everything else was reasonably fair game, even if it was gruesome or obscene. Costigan didn't mind those topics so much.
"I know the armor's your priority. It's mine too right now." He was surprised to realize how just sincere the sentiment was immediately after he said it. Without noticing, Costigan had made it one of the more important pieces of information to follow up on among his contacts.
no subject
From a swirl of shadows accumulated across the room and drawn to the middle, a hunchbacked reptilian figure coalesced into existence. Its skin was green and scaled, had a whip tail and long talons tipped with knifelike claws gripped a large round mirror. It issued a sound like a hissing growl, snarling at Costigan from its place though it didn't move. Bakura approached it without hesitation and, as if the monster as tall as he were nothing more than a decoration, passed his hand over the mirror's surface. The glass darkened for a moment and then cleared to show two figures standing side by side.
The one on the left was Ryou Bakura, standing with quiet sort of sadness as he faced the viewer. Though Bakura successfully emulated the teen's mannerisms, now that Costigan could compare they were very different even though the bodies themselves were nearly identical. On the right side of the mirror was an image of the Thief King, scowling at the viewer. The prominent scar on his face stood in sharp relief to the dark complexion. Hair much shorter than it was currently and he was visibly a few years older, between 20 and 25.
thanks for the reference pic
He had his weapon drawn in the blink of an eye, safety off and leveled at the creature's head. His posture and form suggested some form of professional training, military or police, but there was a sloppiness to it and an imperfection that neither organization would normally accept. That quick reaction alone told volumes about him and he was immediately aware of that.
His gun remained where it was as Bakura's hand moved over the mirror to reveal the two people. The undercover spared a glance, then another, dividing his attention between the 'archfiend' and the image in its mirror's surface.
"A warning would have been nice," he said finally, clearly unamused. Costigan lowered his weapon part way, raised it again, then finally lowered it entirely. He still held the Walther PPK in his hand and used to to point in the direction of the mirror. "So which are you?"
The guy before him clearly wasn't the one on the left, despite visible evidence to the contrary, but Bakura hadn't said that it was someone else's body either.
Np!
He definitely noted the stance and speed with the weapon being drawn, the sly sidelong at the man letting him know that he'd noticed, but didn't comment. They both knew, speaking it was just redundant.
Then he turned back to the mirror. "You asked once about my host," he said calmly. "The one I was parasite to, remember? That is him. But he has scars that I don't have right now, so even though I was in his body before coming here..." He trailed off, not certain of the logistics. "And the one on the right is -- was -- me originally. But that form is long gone. So right now... I am both, but neither. I realize my situation is hardly like that of any others but it's a data point just the same."
no subject
Costigan listened attentively to the latter topic, appreciate the explanation. He slowly, begrudgingly, clicked the safety on and slid the firearm back against the base of his back. This time, however, he left the grip on the outside of his clothing, making it more accessible - just in case.
"Did he get the scars before you or while you were there?" He had no idea why Bakura's body would be changed. Maybe, as a unique case, they had had to custom design his body- Costigan ended that train of thought right there. It was a series of thoughts he wasn't willing to entertain. Whatever the case, they were people and they had to do their best to care of their fragile mortality.
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"During," he said. Though there was no outright discomfort in his posture, he was reluctant to speak about the teen whose body he had inhabited for years. "And before you jump to conclusions, he didn't acquire them as you might be assuming. He and I are... complicated." There was a touch of defensiveness at the ready-- given that Costigan had assumed he'd provoked his own killing of the armoured one, it wasn't a stretch to guess the man would assume he'd purposely scarred Ryou. He didn't deny that he was responsible for them to a degree but... well, complicated really did sum things up.
no subject
"I didn't have an assumption," Costigan assured him. It was the truth. The idea of the kid hurting himself or Bakura hurting him intentionally crossed his mind as only vague possibilities that were quickly dismissed. If anything, he would have assumed the kid got them naturally through a hard life. It wasn't like he didn't have some scars of his own and he knew kids who had it worse. Things happened.
He definitely took note of the defensiveness. To the idea of being complicated, he shook his head. "I don't want to know, guy."
A beat, then he remembered. "Bakura. Sorry."
Because either Bakura would tell some sob story that might compromise Costigan's distrust or he would admit to something evil and compromise Costigan's trust. They had a good balance going right now and the undercover didn't want to ruin it.
no subject
A slight tilt of his head as Costigan corrected his use to his name, indicating it hadn't been a problem. He knew that some habits of speech were hard to break, and he was a guilty of using his own Egyptian terms for certain people, knowing they couldn't understand them. As long as Costigan appeared to be making the effort, Bakura didn't care about the slips.
"If most of the scientists you know are gone, who do you intend to ask?" he inquired, steering the topic back to that line of thought.
no subject
"I know a couple people with better connections. Kyle and Dick, for example." Normally he wouldn't give names, but Bakura was the nosy sort and Costigan would rather give him a couple good people to follow than have the guy digging for his own secrets. "Dick's the head of Wayne's company now. They should have some labs or somethin' that can look into it."
Realistically, it was a possible route, but Costigan was much more likely to ask Evandau and leave it at that. Maybe Kyle, if it wouldn't distract him from his own information search.
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He blew out a frustrated breath, deciding he was thinking too much on this.
"Very well. As long as I don't have to put myself on another slab to get those answers."
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The undercover straightened from his leaning position. They were done with what they had needed to discuss. Still, he lingered, thinking for a moment before offering an almost begrudging additional thought. "You want me to check in for awhile? Make sure they don't come back?"
no subject
Flippant as the remark is however, it's delivered with a nod; he understands why Costigan is asking. But the thief won't require that offer to be delivered upon; the strong refusal absolves them both of the responsibility.
no subject
"See you around." He offered simply, turning to exit. There was time to stop him if needed, but otherwise he would depart without further comment.