The spirits had contacted him rarely since coming to Traverse Town. Each time they said less and griped him more weakly, but in no way did Bakura miss cursing at dust and shadows or angsting in dark rooms. Hell, he was beginning to find he missed Egypt less and less - but then, he could just be spoiled. Most places in town had electricity and hot
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Truth be told, he was running low on the 'munny' shit. And, at least for the time being, he was mildly amused.
"Look, I don't want any trouble from you assholes. Munny is the currency here, not whatever it is you have." The bartender growled, glaring at Dante and Bakura in turn. "If you don't have any, you can go kill a few Heartless. Just get out of my bar. Now.That seemed to confirm all of Bakura's assumptions; these people were terminally stupid. It was probably genetics ( ... )
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"Thanks a bunch," he replied sarcastically to the invitation for drinks. Most of the crowd looked suspicious but not ready to jump them yet or anything. Yet. Lazily, he poured himself a shot of whiskey, the first thing he'd picked up, and downed it before turning back to eye up Bakura. "And just so you know. Some time in the near future? I need to beat the shit out of you. But for now, the free drinks and the fact that I'm sick of this 'munny' shit get you a 'get out of ass-beating free' card."
That said, the half-devil downed his drink and appeared to have nothing more to say on the matter.
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Bakura rolled his eyes, dragging the bartender into an almost comfortable position so that he wouldn't be stepped on. Bakura would hate to trip. And he was pretty serious about not killing the supplier of decent beer. It was like a thief code.
"Take a number. I'm a popular guy." He replied sarcasticly. He gave a casual wave, pouring himself a good helping of beer from the tap. Quite honestly, he expected to be attacked at any minute for stabbing the man in the throat among other things. It was what he would have done under similar circumstances. Then again, it wasn't his fault Whitey had decided to get in the way - not that Raindrop or whatever-the-fuck-his-name-was had been very forthcoming.
He settled back against the wall, looking deceptively comfortable. What the fuck ever. "'The hell do people care if it's Heartless shit or a gold coin anyway? I can't even figure out what this 'munny' shit is made of."
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Besides, sharing a drink over this munny-money bullshit was enough to make any man forget their petty squabbles. For a time.
"Yeah, it's fuckin' bullshit," Dante agreed. He'd had a decent wad of cash on him from one of his last, odd jobs before Temen-ni-gru had been erected. But Captain Condom and his Planetqueers had just turned up their little noses at that, demanding insane shit like swords and repairs to pay for the loss. "You'd think a goddamn, gold coin would be fuckin' worth more than a ball that jingles when you roll it on the ground. Dogs play with nicer shit where I come from."
Another shot of the whiskey.
"Name's Dante. Since we didn't get properly introduced earlier an' shit."
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He wondered if roach-boy had real human organs. Hell, he briefly considered cutting him open just to find out. But Dante seemed perfectly capable of getting smashed, so he would let that be his evidence for the time being.
He took a long swing of his own beer. "Yeah, that happens when you meet people blade-first. Always forgetting the pleasantries." He waved a hand absently as he spoke, rattling off the usual title without any real effort to impress. More gold glinted at his wrists and fingers in the dim light. "Bakura. King of Thieves, Stealer of Souls, Resident Psychopath and all that shit."
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"Shit, if I'd have known we were gonna get all official and fancy about it..." He cleared his throat, sitting up straight for a second. "Dante, son of the Devil..." Which wasn't really too off the wall, now that he thought about it. "Ruiner of Worlds, and Lord of All."
He slouched back down again, laughing more at himself than at Bakura. The half-devil could only imagine what Vergil would say if he could see him now...
"Seriously, though." Dante continued as he knocked back another shot. "How many Kings of Thieves control giant, invisible snakes?" Honestly, Dante wasn't so annoyed now as he was intrigued. And on his way to being quite drunk.
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Weather or not it was true, he snorted at Dante's introduction. Lord of All? That he would have some competition for. After he killed the Pharaoh, being a king might be just what he needed to unwind. "I don't know many 'Kings of Thieves', not living ones anyway, but none of them have a Ka as powerful as Diabound ( ... )
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Dante shrugged at the question, an almost sheepish smirk crossing his face as he contemplated just what to tell Bakura. It wasn't like he was ashamed of his heritage or anything, but it also wasn't like he was about to come out and give this random guy the whole 'Son of Sparda, Dark Knight and Right Hand of the Lord of the Underworld' speech ( ... )
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"Devil blood, huh? Of a different kind maybe." Bakura couldn't help but grin at him. He barely knew what a devil was, let alone if there was one somewhere in his bloodline. Hell, he doubted their existence in his world entirely. If he had any kind of 'Devil Blood' in his veins, it came directly from his ancestors, the screaming sacrifices paid for the Millenium Items, the ghosts of psychotic street rats.
He took another drink.
"'S why'd you need to talk to," Bakura gestured vaguely with his free hand again. "Spikey so bad? 'Could have saved us both a few bruises." He gave another quick grin. "Not that I didn't have fun."
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It was a good thing Bakura was too drunk to attempt to measure his blood because, really, that would just end in violence. The half-demon did have to laugh at the next topic of conversation, clapping his new friend (and that was probably the liquor talking) on the back.
"Just wanted to know more about this shithole. I'm new, cas you couldn't tell," he admitted with a shrug. "Just got a little pissed that you were tryin' to butt into my conversation. No hard feelings, though. 's been a long time since I've had a good rumble like that. And 's'not like he had anything really important to say. Sunshine was a lot more helpful."
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What the hell. He knocked back most of the glass and filled it again. He was losing count and well on his way to getting properly drunk. It was funny how enough beer took the edge off wasting time in a shit-hole town.
"See, I don't have that problem! Didn't have parents. But if people keep comparin' you to some fucker, all you have to do is be better than-" He made another vague, open gesture, then a sort of stabbing motion. "Than this fucker! You don't have to prove shit to anyone. Eventually, even their little pea brains clue in. It's like a bonusBakura laughed. To him, it wouldn't have mattered if they got that point before or after they died, especially if someone decided to compare him to The Fucking Pharaoh. But that ( ... )
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The bottle was nearly empty, and Dante was beginning to feel just a touch tipsy. He had a decent amount of stamina, but this crap was actually pretty potent.
"Sunshine told me pretty much that same shit, but I got a lot more too. Found out 'bout the fucker who could supposedly control 'em." He had to grin as he offered Bakura the information. "Forgot his real name, but he's this real, surly son of a bitch who growls a lot if you ever need some decent info."
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Maybe, Bakura reflected, it wasn't always a good idea to stab first and ask questions later. He and Dante might have hit it off as soon as they met were he a little less stab-happy. Not that it mattered anymore, because the whole chain of events had just become very fortunate for Bakura.
He took Dante's mostly empty bottle and replaced it with a full one, somewhat sobered by the mention of information. "'Got some business to take care of before that, though. Remember anything about this guy that can control 'em?"
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As for the stabbing? Well, that had been completely forgotten at this point.
"He was the king of some world or something. Did a buncha shit to the people there and whatever. Didn't really care much about details. Fucker destroyed my world and sent me here. His name was Ansem or something." Dante waved a hand and snorted. "Heh. Doesn't much matter, though. He's fucking dead next time I see him."
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Well, it wasn't the brightest idea to fight with the human cockroach, but Bakura had never played fair in his entire life - he wasn't about to start now. Fun as it would be though, he had to keep his priorities in check. Revenge then petty amusements unless they somehow went hand-in-hand.
Most of the time.
"Anyway, this Ansem guy can control 'em? He and I need to have a little chat before you use his guts for garters. I've got a pest to dethrone and humiliate."
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