RCA-Action Post-Hostile Takeover-Part 3
Setbacks, setbacks, setbacks.
He had been putting up with a lot of them these days. From his brief control over Ryou, to having his things STOLEN from his apartment, not to mention being so drunk off his ass, he couldn’t see or walk straight for hours.
The stolen things were a sting to his pride, being king thief in a previous life, then not being able to protect the things he had pilfered. Such was the life of criminal, but the things stolen actually had more use for him than regular jewelry ever could. Some were used in his plot against Ryou and all those that associated him, but some were used to keep him alive, even for a short time. He sighed as he went towards a wall.
Well, he didn’t get everything…
Standing with some effort, he took one of his many pocket knives and careful cut along the wallpaper, taking off a small section that matched the one behind it. Behind it was a paper thin packet with a white powder inside. Setting the paper aside, he then pulled an oil lamp from a cabinet, along with a bottle of whiskey and a small cup.
Taking out his favorite lighter, he lit the oil lamp, set the wallpaper piece over it, and took a swig of the whiskey from the bottle. He was going to need it.
Once the paper was sufficiently warm, carefully inked letters began to appear, looking foreign and old. Some of the letters meant ‘long life’, others ‘healing’, and some more for ‘protection’. He poured a small amount of the whiskey in the cup, and then reached for the paper. The packet had opened with the heat and the Spirit poured a very tiny amount of the powder in his drink. He put the mixture on the nightstand near the bed and put the wallpaper back in place, as if it hadn’t been removed in the first place. He grabbed his whiskey bottle and finished off the rest. He wouldn’t have to do this again for another few weeks, but he still needed to restock his alcoholic stash. Whiskey seemed to best to make the stuff go down. Not to mention he needed to restock the ingredients for his cigarettes… Luckily the recipes for those were also on various pieces of wallpaper throughout the room, hidden with invisible ink.
He gave it a few minutes until he felt sufficiently drunk, and then took his concoction. It was strong and he coughed a little, but he knew the worst was yet to come. There was a reason he took so many drugs, and it wasn’t only because he was an addict. Most of the time, he mixed his drugs with the powder behind the wall with the symbols surrounding it. The powder made the drugs much more potent, but there was also a healing factor in them. Like now, when he took it with the whiskey. The drug was affecting every organ in the digestive tract: esophagus, stomach, small intestine, liver, bladder, everything.
There was, however, a severe drawback…
Bakura clutched at his stomach, in terrible amounts of pain. He curled up in a ball, breathing heavily and beginning to sweat. He groaned and shuddered, but remained relatively calm. This was what the whiskey was for, so that he didn’t have to feel ALL of the pain of the slow repair of his organs.
“Ahhrrgg…!” he clutched tighter, curling further into himself. He really hated this part. To vomit blood would have been a blessing and a curse. However, he kept himself together, grunting and groaning at the painfully slow process. He cursed everything under Ra’s sun, and everything else in his agony.
“Son of a-!” he grunted, sweat pouring down his white hair and face. He was shaking violently, as if he was standing in the frigid snow outside.
Frostbite would have a blessing to this kind of pain.
After two long hours of this, the pain quieted down and Bakura could finally breathe and ease out his ball. He panted, covered in sweat. His insides weren’t hurting anymore, so he was fine for now. He thought about getting another shot of whiskey, but he was too tired to move… and he was painfully reminded he was out of his favored drink.
Cursing his luck again, he just said fuck it, and decided that sleep would be better. Yandonushi and Akefia could wait for another day.
He had been putting up with a lot of them these days. From his brief control over Ryou, to having his things STOLEN from his apartment, not to mention being so drunk off his ass, he couldn’t see or walk straight for hours.
The stolen things were a sting to his pride, being king thief in a previous life, then not being able to protect the things he had pilfered. Such was the life of criminal, but the things stolen actually had more use for him than regular jewelry ever could. Some were used in his plot against Ryou and all those that associated him, but some were used to keep him alive, even for a short time. He sighed as he went towards a wall.
Well, he didn’t get everything…
Standing with some effort, he took one of his many pocket knives and careful cut along the wallpaper, taking off a small section that matched the one behind it. Behind it was a paper thin packet with a white powder inside. Setting the paper aside, he then pulled an oil lamp from a cabinet, along with a bottle of whiskey and a small cup.
Taking out his favorite lighter, he lit the oil lamp, set the wallpaper piece over it, and took a swig of the whiskey from the bottle. He was going to need it.
Once the paper was sufficiently warm, carefully inked letters began to appear, looking foreign and old. Some of the letters meant ‘long life’, others ‘healing’, and some more for ‘protection’. He poured a small amount of the whiskey in the cup, and then reached for the paper. The packet had opened with the heat and the Spirit poured a very tiny amount of the powder in his drink. He put the mixture on the nightstand near the bed and put the wallpaper back in place, as if it hadn’t been removed in the first place. He grabbed his whiskey bottle and finished off the rest. He wouldn’t have to do this again for another few weeks, but he still needed to restock his alcoholic stash. Whiskey seemed to best to make the stuff go down. Not to mention he needed to restock the ingredients for his cigarettes… Luckily the recipes for those were also on various pieces of wallpaper throughout the room, hidden with invisible ink.
He gave it a few minutes until he felt sufficiently drunk, and then took his concoction. It was strong and he coughed a little, but he knew the worst was yet to come. There was a reason he took so many drugs, and it wasn’t only because he was an addict. Most of the time, he mixed his drugs with the powder behind the wall with the symbols surrounding it. The powder made the drugs much more potent, but there was also a healing factor in them. Like now, when he took it with the whiskey. The drug was affecting every organ in the digestive tract: esophagus, stomach, small intestine, liver, bladder, everything.
There was, however, a severe drawback…
Bakura clutched at his stomach, in terrible amounts of pain. He curled up in a ball, breathing heavily and beginning to sweat. He groaned and shuddered, but remained relatively calm. This was what the whiskey was for, so that he didn’t have to feel ALL of the pain of the slow repair of his organs.
“Ahhrrgg…!” he clutched tighter, curling further into himself. He really hated this part. To vomit blood would have been a blessing and a curse. However, he kept himself together, grunting and groaning at the painfully slow process. He cursed everything under Ra’s sun, and everything else in his agony.
“Son of a-!” he grunted, sweat pouring down his white hair and face. He was shaking violently, as if he was standing in the frigid snow outside.
Frostbite would have a blessing to this kind of pain.
After two long hours of this, the pain quieted down and Bakura could finally breathe and ease out his ball. He panted, covered in sweat. His insides weren’t hurting anymore, so he was fine for now. He thought about getting another shot of whiskey, but he was too tired to move… and he was painfully reminded he was out of his favored drink.
Cursing his luck again, he just said fuck it, and decided that sleep would be better. Yandonushi and Akefia could wait for another day.