Shadow warily made his way up to the house, circling around. He looked inside windows and tried to open many, thinking he'd have to find a different way to get in until, at last, one of them opened. The bag was dropped in first, and then he climbed in, letting his eyes adjust. Once he could see clearly he started searching the room for anything he could take.

Malik, who could be found in the room himself and Diabound shared, was sprawled across the bed reading a magazine. When he heard faint noises, he narrowed his eyes, getting to his feet and slipping the Sennen Rod into his beltloop as he did so.

Junk, junk, oh, that might be useful, junk. Shadow had only gone through half of the items in the room before he decided to another room to search. He carefully looked out into the hallways. Not seeing anyone, he walked softly towards another door, hoping he'd find something better. The something he did find, though, was not what he was looking for. Not at this moment. In front of him stood Malik. "Well, hello there. I didn’t expect to run into you until I found all the goodies I wanted."

Malik, cool and composed, stood there, smirking as he folded his arms loosely, careful not to change the position of the knife that was inside his sleeve. He rarely went without it, or the one inside his ankle holster - he couldn't risk it. "So," Malik began breezily, "you're the one who attacked my other self."

"It seems I've made a name for myself. That makes me many kinds of happy." Shadow tilted his head in humor, knowing his facial expressions could not be seen. All except for his eyes, which twinkled. He tossed down the bag off to his side and reached behind him, pulling out a crossbow. Instead of arrows it shot long needles, the tips of which were an array of colors that would leave an area about an inch around the wound the color of the tip. "I figure fight now, thieve later?"

"Playing Robin Hood, now? But that's merely a child's toy." Malik was not concerned about his words - he could have cared less and his only intent was to seriously harm this insolent fool. "I can promise you won't escape from this fight unscathed, if you so wish it." Drawing the finely-edged blade from beneath his wrist sleeve, Malik unsheathed it swiftly, all with a cocky smirk.

Robin Hood? While he didn't care for the name, he had to give credit to Malik actually thinking of a name for him. Of course he didn't state his thanks, feeling he'd show it in another way. He did, however, notice the knife, and his eyes opened wide. "Nice knife," he said, voice unable to hide his attraction to the beauty. But enough of the pleasantries, he thought, and he aimed the bow at his chest and fired a blue-tipped needle.

Malik had anticipated the small talk wouldn't last and, at the very last moment, his knife was raised, deflecting the needle. It ricocheted off the ceiling, an unpleasant 'ping' ringing throughout the room. Malik raised an eyebrow mockingly, lips curled into an unpleasant sneer. "Is that all you've got? One of my Ghouls could have beaten you easily."

The bow gave a sharp rock in his hands as his body tensed up in anger. "Here I am, trying to have fun and be creative, and you just are throwing it away. Very rude if you ask me." Besides, he had taken time to get all the colors on the needles, and he really was looking forward to using them. Maybe later he'd pull out another weapon, if Malik insisted. For now he stuck with the bow and fired three shots, the bow moving down Malik's body for each short, Shadow figuring that Malik couldn't block all three.

Again, Malik had watched the needles being loaded into the crossbow and swiftly dove out of the way. He was on his feet in an instant, though he noticed that a red coloured needle had clipped the side of his leg and his clothes were now ripped slightly. "Someone has a fetish for the rainbow," he commented, unusually calm for such a situation. If it was a fight this madman wanted, then it was a fight he would receive.

"And someone has a dodging fetish, but you don't see me talking about that, do you?" Shadow went to reload the bow again and, thinking the better of it, tossed it aside. However, before he did so he broke the firing mechanism. Can't have it falling into enemy hands. He reached down and pulled out his knife, tilting back and forth so it would catch any light in the room. "So, are we just going to hover against the wall or are we going to do a little tango?"

“Tch. Riddles are for those lacking clarity.” Malik toyed with the blunt side of his own blade, not taking his eyes off his nemesis. His other self’s face flashed in his mind briefly, followed by his sister’s, then his brother’s, and he had to fight to keep control of the white-hot anger that was rising in his stomach. “If you insist on staining the floor, then, fine. By all means.” Smirking, Malik spread his hands, the knife held securely in one.

Shadow rolled his eyes. Me, making riddles? He thought. Everything he was saying was quite clear to him. Since his partner was shy, he decided to make the first move. Shadow made his way over, feet moving with quick precision, and he swiped the knife at the arm Malik was using to hold his own knife.

That one, Malik would admit, had caught him off-guard. But, luckily, his lightning-quick reflexes allowed him to retaliate swiftly, slashing at the intruder's exposed midsection. Malik stepped back, a deep scowl on his face as he resisted the urge to inspect the wound. The armbands on his upper arm had absorbed most of the knife blade, but there was a deep cut in his arm.

The smile that crossed Shadow's lips when he saw the wound he had caused soon faded as he realized that he had been careless and wounded himself. He looked down and saw a gash where the fabric had been cut away, exposing skin and a bleeding cut. His stomach seemed to be The Spot for people. At least it didn't hit his other wound, which he had to recently have restitched. Without wasting another moment and turned toward Malik and slashed at his chest.

Cursing and hissing in Arabic, Malik aimed a kick square at Shadow’s chest, all the anger and momentum he had gathered behind it, hoping to knock the wind out of his enemy temporarily. Growling, Malik ignored the stinging wound on his chest: a thin, openly bleeding cut that reached from shoulder to his pectorals.

Shadow let out a deep breath as he fell back and into the wall. For a moment he couldn't breath and he looked down, not wanting the tiniest bit of fear to be seen in his eyes. His body felt weak. He eagerly tried to gather breath, and once he was able to it came slowly. Once he felt his strength return he looked up to see where Malik was.

Malik sneered, in front of Shadow not a moment after he’d hit the wall. Watching in his old, sadistic amusement, he grasped the knife from the other’s hold and tossed it aside, hearing it embed itself into the carpet. “What now?” he growled. “Is this what it felt like, for your other victims? My brother, my sister, my other self? No.” Malik wrapped his hand around Shadow’s throat tightly, other hand pinning the man’s wrists securely. “They weren’t afraid.”

Shit. That was the main thought racing through Shadow's mind. He had been way too careless, and he had to wonder if he did it on purpose. That would be just like him, playing tricks on himself without knowing it. He looked at Malik, eyes on fire. "Not afraid? Please. They were all afraid, wanting to wrap their arms around mommy and daddy for protection," he spat out. While he talked he squirmed around on the wall, trying to get free. He raised a leg and kicked out towards Malik's knee.

The words ‘mommy and daddy’ set Malik off instantly, a venomous hiss escaping his lips in a mixture of pain and intense anger. Instantly straightening, he realized he’d released the grip on Shadow’s throat and sneered, seeing his opportunity. Bringing his fist up hard, Malik punched Shadow in the gut, putting all his bodyweight behind it and letting go of Shadow’s wrists so he could knee the other sharply in the stomach.

Shadow let a small cry escape him as he clutched his stomach and slid down the wall to the floor. He coughed violently, his eyes shutting, and when he opened them he saw his crossbow a few feet away. While he wouldn't be able to use it, the sight of it did give him idea. He reached to the area where he kept the needles on his side, grabbed a few, and slammed them into Malik's lower leg with as much force as he could.

Malik’s howl of pain was nothing short of blood-curdling as he glared a thousand daggers down at Shadow, the stinging sensation in his lower leg almost unbearable. Forcing himself to take it like a boy his age should, Malik simply hissed and backed away a few steps, putting much-needed distance between himself and Shadow. He reached down, plucking the needles out one-by-one; until he was sure he’d begin bleeding rivulets. Face dark with barely suppressed anger, Malik moved forwards again, the pathetic person at his feet scarcely a threat to him any longer. “This is what you deserve,” he hissed, holding his sharpest and lightest knife to Shadow’s throat. As he’d been pulling the needles out painstakingly slowly, he’d hidden the blade inside his sleeve and, now, was glad he’d done so.

His eyes lowered to the knife at his throat. He could feel the cold blade against him, sending a tingle down his back. There was no time for thinking so he gathered his strength and pushed Malik's arm away. Once he felt he could safely pass by without getting cut he fell to the floor and rolled, grabbing his knife and jumping up, prepared for another attack.

"A worthy adversary, even if you are a coward." Malik laughed darkly, tossing his head to flick the flaxen-blonde hair from his eyes - dark lilac eyes that burned with hidden rage. "Do you enjoy mind games?"

Coward? Shadow's eyes narrowed at that word. He was no coward and had proved so on countless occasions. He reached into his bag and pulled out a needle, throwing it at him. "It doesn't matter the kind of game," he growled. "I like them all."

Malik simply drew his knife up swiftly, deflecting the needle and raising an eyebrow as it went flying at an angle above his head. "Oh, so? I suppose I would be an unworthy host if I did not provide you with some entertainment," Malik smirked smugly.

"Too true, too true." Shadow stretched, pulling out the kinks he had gotten when he had been tossed on the wall. Keeping his eyes on his opponent, Shadow took a few large steps to his left, trying to get a game plan. Having someone fight back was not expected, and he was enjoying it, despite the pain. "Perhaps you could extend your hosting skills and tell me what other entertainment I can expect," he paused. "Rajah."

The name didn't seem familiar, but Malik recognized the meaning. Malik's sly eyes followed Shadow's every move, not moving from the other for a moment. He couldn't afford any slip ups - not at this stage. An idea popped into Malik's head, though his expression didn't change to match the plotting in his mind. "If you mean to say that I'm a tiger, think again."

"I'm talking about a specific tiger. Entertaining, aggressive when needs to be, and turns into a little cuddly kitty at the end." Shadow cradled his arms as if he were holding something, giving it a little pet before raising his knife and stabbing at the imaginary figure. "I don't care if you don't like the name, so complain all you want." He ran his hand along the belt that held his knife and noticed a new compartment there. His eyes widened, then quickly went back into slits. Oh! He had forgotten about that.

"Tch." Malik snorted softly, watching Shadow closely through his blood-streaked bangs. "Nicknames are for sentimental idiots. You, however, are soon going to be of the dead variety." Distantly, Malik's mind wandered to Itja, the kitten who shared the apartment with himself and Diabound - if anything happened to the feline, he would kill for blood. Itja was a part of Malik's family. "Just don't get too used to spouting off Disney nicknames."

Shadow waves his hand. The pain in his stomach was starting to pick up again, but that didn't matter. He had something else he wanted to use. His hand snaked back around to the new compartment and flipped open the top. He reached inside and grabbed two of the object, quickly pulling them out and tossing them at Malik, one at the lower part of his arm, the other towards his side. Pony was so kind to give him the throwing knives as gifts.

Malik hissed in pain as one of the things clipped his arm, though the armbands on his lower arm prevented them piercing skin. He was now sporting a stinging cut in his left lower arm and, though he was tempted to press a hand against his arm, he quickly moved out of the way. Malik, successful in avoiding the second attack, hissed once more as he slipped behind Shadow. Holding both fists together, he brought them down hard square in the middle of Shadow’s back, his knife held between his hands.

His smile faltered as the pain seared into his back. Shadow couldn't help but let a cry escape from him. Stars were starting to glitter in front of his eyes. Have to stay clear. Clear as the night sky that was outside. He weakly swung his knife around, tears coming once again to his eyes as he reached too far. Not able to keep himself up he fell forward, landing on his knees.

Shadow had effectively swiped at Malik’s already throbbing, bleeding chest, despite the weakness behind his blow, and Malik had to clench his teeth together to prevent a pained snarl escaping him. Blood was now flowing freely down Malik’s slashed open shirt, his hands and torso covered in his own blood and the intruder’s. Pulling his knife free of Shadow’s back, ignoring the sickening noise of a blade embedded in flesh, Malik immediately placed a foot over the wound. “Beaten,” he forced himself to hiss viciously.

No, he wasn't beaten. He couldn't be. Shadow bit his lip hard enough to bleed, not going to let any other pained noise pass through him. He tried to think, but his thoughts weren't going fast enough. Instead he kept focusing on the blood seeping in his shirt, both from the front and the back. Nothing would be accomplished this way. He closed his eyes and forced himself to focus on one goal. No matter what the pain, he would continue until it was met. He counted to three in his head before pressing up with his hands, throwing Malik's foot off of him so he could get up from the floor.

Malik hadn’t been anticipating that, as he’d been quite certain Shadow was down to his last energy reserves. Losing none of the ground between them, he only moved closer and grabbed the enemy’s collar, pulling Shadow so he could see eye-to-eye with the masked antagonist. “Who are you?” he demanded in a low growl, fingering the knife in his other hand that was hidden from view.

"As if I would go and reveal the identity I am taking such great pains to keep hidden," he snapped. Still focusing on his goal, Shadow slashed his knife at Malik's left side, near the waist, not caring if it left a little or deep scar. He just wanted a scar there.

Malik snarled in anger and overwhelming pain as his grip slackened somewhat, before he sighted his opportunity. Holding none of his pent-up rage back, Malik plunged his knife into Shadow's gut sharply, twisting it with a sadistic sneer. Then, he released his hold on the knife and backed away a few shaky steps, unable to focus momentarily. Malik's hand was clutching his side, face contorted in pain, despite his iron will to not give in. Not after everything.

Shadow couldn't hold back his scream, even though he said he wouldn't make another noise. Blood soaked onto his fingers through his gloves where he held the newest wound. He coughed, feeling a copper taste mix around in his mouth. He leaned his head down and spat it out. As he did so he noticed the knife still in his stomach, blood dripping down. He wanted to pull it out, hating to have someone else’s knife in him, but he knew he had to wait. The game was done, his goal complete, and he pulled a small gun from his belt, aiming it at Malik as he made his way towards the bedroom door. "Time to go," he said in a shaky voice, getting closer and closer to the door, preparing to make a mad dash.

Malik wasn't quite done with Shadow, glaring as the other made a cowardly move - running away. Whipping the Sennen Rod from his belt with the hand that wasn't holding his side, Malik gripped it tightly, watching the Eye of Horus glowing at its tip. "Not so fast," he snarled. The one he wielded was the authentic, and no mere human could resist Malik's power over them when he possessed the Rod. An identical symbol lit up on Malik's skin, on his forehead, bangs flaring wildly as his eyes burned angrily. "Do not move another step," he ordered, watching as the Rod activated and took effect.

When Shadow saw Malik bring out the Rod he thought nothing of it. He had easily gotten past the other one. However, when Malik ordered his command his body froze. Horror grew in the pit of his stomach and spread throughout his body like a virus. He had expected to be hurt, but he had not expected this.

"Other me wields the less effective version of my Item," Malik snarled, lips curled into a sneer that would make one look away in downright fear. "Mine, however, is far more useful." With a flick of his wrist, Malik gestured that Shadow was to move closer, his mind sending out familiar and well-practiced commands to the other's mind.

He tried his best to resist, but his legs moved forward slowly. With each step he took he felt himself grow a little weaker. I should have just shot him, he berated himself. Shadow finally stopped when he came close to Malik.

Malik could have struck the death blow to Shadow, then and there - to the person whom had hurt so many people; his own beloved brother and sister, his other self, and the more innocent of Yuugi-tachi's crowd. He had more important issues to see to, however, and wanted this fool to suffer for the grief he had caused his own family members. "Remove the mask," Malik hissed in a tone that brooked no argument, as he intensified the amount of control he had over Shadow.

Shadow froze for a moment, his fear temporarily taking over his mind from the Rod. He tried to shake his head no, but as he attempted to do so his hands moved of their own accord. They reached under the high collar of his top, tugging at the mask bottom that fit snuggly below. With fingers almost numb with fear he pulled the mask fully off. There, hidden behind the mask...was an identical mask, though a little darker from lack of contact with the outside elements.

Malik’s lilac eyes narrowed suspiciously, his expression unreadable aside from that. “Continue,” he ordered, sensing he’d need to fortify his power over Shadow, and did so with intense force on his mind’s part.

With a sigh Shadow reached up and pulled off another mask, then another, tossing them both to the floor. They were thin, and he had planned in case an occasion like this arose. However, even though he had plenty more to go through before his true identity was revealed, the anger in him began building up. His body ached and he wanted nothing more then to get some stitches and rest for the next night. These plans were not going how he wanted, and with each angry bubble that boiled to the surface he felt himself gain a little more control.

Malik, having a feeling this would be pointless, growled softly and remained in control, unsheathing the blade from the bottom of the Sennen Rod. Flicking the sharpened end of his Item out, Malik took a step toward Shadow, pressing the blade against Shadow’s neck. “You left your mark. Now I leave mine.” With a sneer of satisfaction, Malik carved an Arabic symbol which, should one take the time to pull it apart, would read a rather nasty insult.

Shadow tried to pull away, but the control Malik had over him still lingered. He felt the blade carve into the sensitive skin of his neck. Inside his fury built until he thought his body would no longer be able to take it. No one marked him! And yet, here he was, being branded like cattle. When the last of the symbol was carved, the pain of it being the last straw, he was finally able to move his body. He stumbled back, grabbing onto the door for support, before making his way as quickly as he could down the hall and through the window he had entered from. As he climbed out the window his stomach brushed against the frame and he let out a string of curses as he weaved, half dazed, into the night.

Malik couldn't hold himself up a moment longer and the Rod clattered to the ground, Malik's hand still clutching at his side as he sank down to his knees, head bowed. Malik's skin felt like it was on fire, every cut stinging and every muscle in his body aching, as well as the unbelievably light-headed feeling he was experiencing. Unable to believe what had happened, Malik simply remained, as he was, thankful he was in a better condition than Shadow.

It was at that choice moment that Diabound finally opened the door to the apartment. He'd felt odd the entire trip to buy food - annoying but necessary -, as if he shouldn't have left at all. Trying to brush it aside as paranoia, even the rapidity of his trip hadn't gotten him home quick enough. "Malik?" he called as he entered the apartment.

Diabound's voice broke through Malik's trance-like state, eyes half-lidded as he raised his head a bit, only able to see the blood-drenched Rod and the stained carpet beneath him. "D-Diabound?" he managed weakly, his voice barely carrying out of the room.

Malik's voice was faint, and that and the faintest smell of blood on the air was enough to make Diabound freeze, dropping the bag in his hand. "Malik!" He ran into the apartment for the voice, the smell of blood filling his senses and fairly driving him mad. He fell beside the battered Malik the moment he found him, shaking with rage and fear. "No...no, no!"

"You're back..." The calm, cool composure Malik had kept during Shadow's 'visit' had faded away, Malik only being aware of the stinging bruises and cuts on his body. He could feel the blood seeping through his clothing, and his left side ached from where Shadow had branded him. Moving from his kneeling position, unable to hold himself up any longer, Malik rested his weight on his hands shakily. "T-there's a mess," he mumbled.

"Malik," Diabound whispered, everything inside him crashing. He shouldn't have left, shouldn't have left him alone, should've known, should've known...Carefully bringing his hands around Malik, he moved him to lie back on the ground as best he could. "Don't move," he breathed, not daring a louder voice. "I'll call...call the..." He waved his hands nonsensically, gazing at Malik for some hint that everything would be okay.

Malik hissed softly in pain, trying to mask it immediately as he closed his eyes. Breathing shallowly, he found he scarcely had the energy to move his blood-soaked hand from where it rested at his side. "It-- it hurts," Malik whispered hoarsely.

"Don't, don't speak," Diabound said shakily, drawing his hands away again, now slick with blood. He pressed a kiss to Malik's forehead. "And don't you dare die," he whispered harshly before he was on his feet, wiping his hands off on his shirt before he quickly called the paramedics.

Malik opened his eyes, gazing blearily after Diabound as he drifted in and out of consciousness. He couldn't fall asleep - couldn't give in. Malik's body felt impossibly weak, every limb heavy with the guilt of inflicting pain upon someone else as he'd once sworn he'd never do again. "What'd I..." As though speaking to himself, Malik's voice trailed off into an overwhelming silence.

When Diabound returned, no wailing could match the burning in his ears. The Ring began to glow and burn on his chest as his vision went red with anger. "You are going to be destroyed, Shadow."