Post by Rockinmuffin on Jun 26, 2006 14:24:16 GMT -5
Disclaimer: I don’t own Yugioh or Sir Mix-a lot’s “Baby Got Back.” xD
Page 3
Not being one prone to violence when it wasn’t necessary, you decided that your best course of action would be to try and reason with the thief.
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask that you stand down before you do something you’re going to regret. Now I suggest you come with me to the front of the building so I can call the cops. If you be a good boy while we wait for the police then I’ll give you a lollipop” you stated calmly as you pulled a pair of handcuffs off of your belt.
Bad move.
While you were too busy trying to act all calm and prepare the handcuffs, the burglar used the opportunity to forcefully pull you to him, twist your arms behind your back, and use your own handcuffs against you. You felt yourself start to panic as you heard the click of the handcuffs once they were locked tightly in place around your wrists, restraining your movement.
The man pulled you close to his body so that your back was pressed flush against his chest. You felt his hot breath against your ear as he whispered in a mocking tone with a snicker, “You were saying, officer?”
Oh how you hated it when a perfectly good plan of yours ended up failing so miserably.
“Release me this instant!” you demanded, struggling against your captor’s strong embrace. The man chuckled at your fruitless attempts to escape his clutches. Your eye twitched in annoyance at the man’s attitude. It was bad enough that he made you feel so vulnerable; he didn’t have to rub it in too! The jerk! You finally calmed yourself down and settled for glaring up into the man’s dark auburn eyes, a pout on your face.
“Giving up so soon?” the man taunted in a raspy voice. “Too bad. Your struggling was actually quite entertaining.”
Your glare intensified tenfold. “I really, really don’t like you. I just want you to know that.”
The man let out a soft chuckle. “Good to know” he stated as he pulled the gun from your belt, letting his hand linger on your hip a little longer than necessary. You tensed up, feeling extremely uncomfortable, though he didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he just didn’t seem to care. He twirled the gun around his finger, inspecting it with a bored, unimpressed expression before he turned back to you. “Now don’t get any ideas in your head about trying to escape or calling for help. I’d hate to have to pump that pretty little face of yours full of lead. Besides, what good is a hostage if they’re already dead?”
Your eye twitched again at the serious yet playful look the man had, his lips curling into a sadistic smirk. Something told you this man was NOT to be fucked with. Right now, the best thing you could do was sit quietly and try to think up a fool-proof plan to escape that wouldn’t result with you sporting a large bullet wound in the middle of your forehead.
You sat quietly, observing as the burglar looked over the expensive, ancient artifacts, selected the items that caught his eye, and then carefully placed them in the burlap sack he was holding.
It wasn’t long before the burglar’s sack was filled to the rim with goodies and your mind was still at a blank. In the short amount of time you had, you couldn’t think up a single plan to escape. Eventually you decided that if you waited long enough then Tristan would eventually come back and save you from your current peril, though, there wasn’t any sign of him yet. “It figures. The one time I need him he’s nowhere to be found…” you murmured bitterly to yourself.
The man dragged his treasure-filled bag over to you and dropped it on the ground by your feet. Your eyes widened as you stared down at the bag, then turned your confused gaze up towards the burglar. “Now pick that up and follow me. We’re getting out of here.”
“And what makes you think I’m gonna listen to a word you say?” you asked, defiance shining in your eyes. That moment was short-lived as he pulled the gun up back into your sight and held the gun in place at the side of your head. “Oh, yes, you still have my gun. You make a very good point, Sir.” You laughed nervously as you somehow managed to heft up the burlap sack and sling it over your shoulder, despite the fact that your hands were hand-cuffed together behind you rather than in front of you. The authoress hereby applauds you for your sack-flinging skills.
“Good girl” he stated mockingly, patting the top of you head as if you were some kind of domesticated household pet. “Now, come.” He yanked the collar of your shirt, forcing you to follow close behind him. You fought back the urge to groan in annoyance, lest you do something that would enrage the psychotic, most likely unstable, man that was currently holding the gun. Something in your mind told you that would be a VERY bad idea.
The man led you through hallway upon hallway, his grip on your collar nearly choking you as his nimble legs carried him quickly; much faster than you were capable of walking while being weighed down by a bag almost as heavy as yourself. You gasped for air as the burglar suddenly jerked you back against the wall with him, hidden in the shadows. You looked up at him indignantly, about to ask him what the big idea was when the fates decided to answer for you; you heard footsteps slowly approaching. Tristan walked by, carrying a bag of potato chips and whistling a tune which faintly resembled Ricky Martin’s hit song “She Bangs.”
Your eyes lit up in hope. Maybe now you could somehow get Tristan’s attention and then he could get you out of this mess.
The burglar must’ve seen the sudden spark in your eyes and took it upon himself to crush your hopes and dreams to the ground as easily as one would crush an ant to the ground with the bottom of their shoe. “Make one sound and I’ll kill him” he whispered in your ear, his voice soft and calm.
Well, there goes your one shot at escaping. As tempted as you were, there was no way you were going to take a chance and risk Tristan’s life just for a slim chance to get away. You may’ve been frightened for your own life, but you certainly weren’t that cowardly or selfish.
When Tristan was finally out of sight, you let out a breath of air that you hadn’t even realized you were holding in.
The burglar looked down at you with a smirk; you couldn’t see his face but you could tell he was smirking by the look in his eyes. Without any warning, he grabbed your shoulder in a firm grasp and started running down the halls, pulling you with him. You nearly shrieked in surprise but thought better of it and held the scream in.
As the man pulled you out through the museum’s back entrance, you vaguely wondered why Mako, the security guard positioned in the control room, hadn’t noticed the intruder.
~Meanwhile, in the control room…~
A tan male with a scar on his right cheek and dark hair that stuck up in strange angles stood proudly on top of a table, completely ignoring the security cameras he was supposed to watch in favor of moving his hips lewdly about and singing along with the song sung by Sir Mix-a-Lot that he had booming through the stereo speakers.
“I like big butts and I can not lie
You other brothers can't deny
That when a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist
And a round thing in your face
You get sprung, wanna pull out your tongue
'Cause you notice that butt was stuffed
Deep in the jeans she's wearing
I'm hooked and I can't stop staring
Oh baby, I wanna get wit'cha
And take your picture
My homeboys tried to warn me
But with that butt you got makes me feel so horny
Ooh, Rump-o'-smooth-skin
You say you wanna get in my Benz?
Well, use me, use me
'Cause you ain't that average groupy
I've seen them dancin'
The hell with romancin'
She's sweat, wet,
Got it goin' like a turbo 'Vette
I'm tired of magazines
Sayin' flat butts are the thing
Take the average black man and ask him that
She gotta pack much back
So, fellas! (Yeah!) Fellas! (Yeah!)
Has your girlfriend got the butt? (Hell yeah!)
Tell 'em to shake it! (Shake it!) Shake it! (Shake it!)
Shake that healthy butt!
Baby got back!”
Mako continued to sing along with the rest of the lyrics, shaking his groove thang, blissfully unaware of what was going on outside the sound-proof walls of the control room.
What was the point of showing this insightful yet disturbing scene to you?
Absolutely nothing.
~Back with you…~
The burglar-turned-kidnapper wasted no time in dragging you inside his car, blindfolding you so that you wouldn’t know where he was taking you. He secured your seatbelt snugly, locked the car doors, stashed his little goodie bag in the back seat of the vehicle, and started the engine. He ripped off his mask and threw it in the backseat along with the items stolen from the museum, though you couldn’t see it due to your newest accessory. He laughed maniacally as he slammed his foot on the gas, going from 0 to 70 miles per hour in four seconds flat.
You jumped a bit at the sudden acceleration, but calmed your nerves once you discovered that you were still alive, though feeling a little worn out from the excitement of the night’s events; and it was only 11:00! Who knew what else could happen to you in just an hour?
“So, what’s your name?”
The words brought you out of your thoughts of inner turmoil and panic and you turned towards your kidnapper, despite the fact that the blindfold kept you from seeing anything, making your recent movement practically pointless and completely redundant.
“What?” you asked, confusion clearly in your voice. You hadn’t expected the man to ask you something as trivial and unimportant as your name. It wasn’t as if it mattered to him; you were simply an unlucky soul that made the misfortunate mistake of getting in his way.
“I asked you your name, girl. Don’t make me repeat myself again” he growled lightly, keeping his eyes on the road in front, looking at you from the corner of his eyes from time to time.
“Why would you want to know my name?”
“Well, seeing as we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other from now on, I thought it might be useful if I could call you by name” he chuckled lightly, eyeing you as you bit your lip in thought.
You sighed lightly. You figured that you couldn’t get yourself in any more trouble so there was no harm in telling the stranger your name. “I’m _____.”
“_____...” he drawled, testing the name and enjoying how it rolled off his tongue. “What a lovely name. It fits you.”
You twitched. “Don’t even bother trying to flatter me, jerk-face. You lost any chances you might’ve had with me the second you handcuffed me. I’m pretty kinky, but not that kinky. And if you even try to touch me then I’ll bite your ear off” you threatened, your eyes hidden behind the blindfold settling into a glare.
“We’ll see about that” he murmured, his tone playful; too playful considering he just robbed the museum you work at and kidnapped you. “By the way, my name is Bakura.”
You were silent for a moment. “Bakura?”
“…Yes?”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass.”
The rest of the ride was surprisingly quiet.
Seeing as you’re currently helpless, oh great one, it seems you don’t get to make a decision. Poor you.
Arrive at the thief’s lair on Page 7
Page 3
Not being one prone to violence when it wasn’t necessary, you decided that your best course of action would be to try and reason with the thief.
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask that you stand down before you do something you’re going to regret. Now I suggest you come with me to the front of the building so I can call the cops. If you be a good boy while we wait for the police then I’ll give you a lollipop” you stated calmly as you pulled a pair of handcuffs off of your belt.
Bad move.
While you were too busy trying to act all calm and prepare the handcuffs, the burglar used the opportunity to forcefully pull you to him, twist your arms behind your back, and use your own handcuffs against you. You felt yourself start to panic as you heard the click of the handcuffs once they were locked tightly in place around your wrists, restraining your movement.
The man pulled you close to his body so that your back was pressed flush against his chest. You felt his hot breath against your ear as he whispered in a mocking tone with a snicker, “You were saying, officer?”
Oh how you hated it when a perfectly good plan of yours ended up failing so miserably.
“Release me this instant!” you demanded, struggling against your captor’s strong embrace. The man chuckled at your fruitless attempts to escape his clutches. Your eye twitched in annoyance at the man’s attitude. It was bad enough that he made you feel so vulnerable; he didn’t have to rub it in too! The jerk! You finally calmed yourself down and settled for glaring up into the man’s dark auburn eyes, a pout on your face.
“Giving up so soon?” the man taunted in a raspy voice. “Too bad. Your struggling was actually quite entertaining.”
Your glare intensified tenfold. “I really, really don’t like you. I just want you to know that.”
The man let out a soft chuckle. “Good to know” he stated as he pulled the gun from your belt, letting his hand linger on your hip a little longer than necessary. You tensed up, feeling extremely uncomfortable, though he didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he just didn’t seem to care. He twirled the gun around his finger, inspecting it with a bored, unimpressed expression before he turned back to you. “Now don’t get any ideas in your head about trying to escape or calling for help. I’d hate to have to pump that pretty little face of yours full of lead. Besides, what good is a hostage if they’re already dead?”
Your eye twitched again at the serious yet playful look the man had, his lips curling into a sadistic smirk. Something told you this man was NOT to be fucked with. Right now, the best thing you could do was sit quietly and try to think up a fool-proof plan to escape that wouldn’t result with you sporting a large bullet wound in the middle of your forehead.
You sat quietly, observing as the burglar looked over the expensive, ancient artifacts, selected the items that caught his eye, and then carefully placed them in the burlap sack he was holding.
It wasn’t long before the burglar’s sack was filled to the rim with goodies and your mind was still at a blank. In the short amount of time you had, you couldn’t think up a single plan to escape. Eventually you decided that if you waited long enough then Tristan would eventually come back and save you from your current peril, though, there wasn’t any sign of him yet. “It figures. The one time I need him he’s nowhere to be found…” you murmured bitterly to yourself.
The man dragged his treasure-filled bag over to you and dropped it on the ground by your feet. Your eyes widened as you stared down at the bag, then turned your confused gaze up towards the burglar. “Now pick that up and follow me. We’re getting out of here.”
“And what makes you think I’m gonna listen to a word you say?” you asked, defiance shining in your eyes. That moment was short-lived as he pulled the gun up back into your sight and held the gun in place at the side of your head. “Oh, yes, you still have my gun. You make a very good point, Sir.” You laughed nervously as you somehow managed to heft up the burlap sack and sling it over your shoulder, despite the fact that your hands were hand-cuffed together behind you rather than in front of you. The authoress hereby applauds you for your sack-flinging skills.
“Good girl” he stated mockingly, patting the top of you head as if you were some kind of domesticated household pet. “Now, come.” He yanked the collar of your shirt, forcing you to follow close behind him. You fought back the urge to groan in annoyance, lest you do something that would enrage the psychotic, most likely unstable, man that was currently holding the gun. Something in your mind told you that would be a VERY bad idea.
The man led you through hallway upon hallway, his grip on your collar nearly choking you as his nimble legs carried him quickly; much faster than you were capable of walking while being weighed down by a bag almost as heavy as yourself. You gasped for air as the burglar suddenly jerked you back against the wall with him, hidden in the shadows. You looked up at him indignantly, about to ask him what the big idea was when the fates decided to answer for you; you heard footsteps slowly approaching. Tristan walked by, carrying a bag of potato chips and whistling a tune which faintly resembled Ricky Martin’s hit song “She Bangs.”
Your eyes lit up in hope. Maybe now you could somehow get Tristan’s attention and then he could get you out of this mess.
The burglar must’ve seen the sudden spark in your eyes and took it upon himself to crush your hopes and dreams to the ground as easily as one would crush an ant to the ground with the bottom of their shoe. “Make one sound and I’ll kill him” he whispered in your ear, his voice soft and calm.
Well, there goes your one shot at escaping. As tempted as you were, there was no way you were going to take a chance and risk Tristan’s life just for a slim chance to get away. You may’ve been frightened for your own life, but you certainly weren’t that cowardly or selfish.
When Tristan was finally out of sight, you let out a breath of air that you hadn’t even realized you were holding in.
The burglar looked down at you with a smirk; you couldn’t see his face but you could tell he was smirking by the look in his eyes. Without any warning, he grabbed your shoulder in a firm grasp and started running down the halls, pulling you with him. You nearly shrieked in surprise but thought better of it and held the scream in.
As the man pulled you out through the museum’s back entrance, you vaguely wondered why Mako, the security guard positioned in the control room, hadn’t noticed the intruder.
~Meanwhile, in the control room…~
A tan male with a scar on his right cheek and dark hair that stuck up in strange angles stood proudly on top of a table, completely ignoring the security cameras he was supposed to watch in favor of moving his hips lewdly about and singing along with the song sung by Sir Mix-a-Lot that he had booming through the stereo speakers.
“I like big butts and I can not lie
You other brothers can't deny
That when a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist
And a round thing in your face
You get sprung, wanna pull out your tongue
'Cause you notice that butt was stuffed
Deep in the jeans she's wearing
I'm hooked and I can't stop staring
Oh baby, I wanna get wit'cha
And take your picture
My homeboys tried to warn me
But with that butt you got makes me feel so horny
Ooh, Rump-o'-smooth-skin
You say you wanna get in my Benz?
Well, use me, use me
'Cause you ain't that average groupy
I've seen them dancin'
The hell with romancin'
She's sweat, wet,
Got it goin' like a turbo 'Vette
I'm tired of magazines
Sayin' flat butts are the thing
Take the average black man and ask him that
She gotta pack much back
So, fellas! (Yeah!) Fellas! (Yeah!)
Has your girlfriend got the butt? (Hell yeah!)
Tell 'em to shake it! (Shake it!) Shake it! (Shake it!)
Shake that healthy butt!
Baby got back!”
Mako continued to sing along with the rest of the lyrics, shaking his groove thang, blissfully unaware of what was going on outside the sound-proof walls of the control room.
What was the point of showing this insightful yet disturbing scene to you?
Absolutely nothing.
~Back with you…~
The burglar-turned-kidnapper wasted no time in dragging you inside his car, blindfolding you so that you wouldn’t know where he was taking you. He secured your seatbelt snugly, locked the car doors, stashed his little goodie bag in the back seat of the vehicle, and started the engine. He ripped off his mask and threw it in the backseat along with the items stolen from the museum, though you couldn’t see it due to your newest accessory. He laughed maniacally as he slammed his foot on the gas, going from 0 to 70 miles per hour in four seconds flat.
You jumped a bit at the sudden acceleration, but calmed your nerves once you discovered that you were still alive, though feeling a little worn out from the excitement of the night’s events; and it was only 11:00! Who knew what else could happen to you in just an hour?
“So, what’s your name?”
The words brought you out of your thoughts of inner turmoil and panic and you turned towards your kidnapper, despite the fact that the blindfold kept you from seeing anything, making your recent movement practically pointless and completely redundant.
“What?” you asked, confusion clearly in your voice. You hadn’t expected the man to ask you something as trivial and unimportant as your name. It wasn’t as if it mattered to him; you were simply an unlucky soul that made the misfortunate mistake of getting in his way.
“I asked you your name, girl. Don’t make me repeat myself again” he growled lightly, keeping his eyes on the road in front, looking at you from the corner of his eyes from time to time.
“Why would you want to know my name?”
“Well, seeing as we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other from now on, I thought it might be useful if I could call you by name” he chuckled lightly, eyeing you as you bit your lip in thought.
You sighed lightly. You figured that you couldn’t get yourself in any more trouble so there was no harm in telling the stranger your name. “I’m _____.”
“_____...” he drawled, testing the name and enjoying how it rolled off his tongue. “What a lovely name. It fits you.”
You twitched. “Don’t even bother trying to flatter me, jerk-face. You lost any chances you might’ve had with me the second you handcuffed me. I’m pretty kinky, but not that kinky. And if you even try to touch me then I’ll bite your ear off” you threatened, your eyes hidden behind the blindfold settling into a glare.
“We’ll see about that” he murmured, his tone playful; too playful considering he just robbed the museum you work at and kidnapped you. “By the way, my name is Bakura.”
You were silent for a moment. “Bakura?”
“…Yes?”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass.”
The rest of the ride was surprisingly quiet.
Seeing as you’re currently helpless, oh great one, it seems you don’t get to make a decision. Poor you.
Arrive at the thief’s lair on Page 7
Ever notice how the word "therapist" is just "the" and "rapist" put together? Think about it. 