This was inspired by LittleKuriboh's awesome fic: [link]
"Marik stared into the flames the way a child might stare into the sun until warned off from doing so. He bathed in the heat from the body, and only then did the smell become something worse, something sickening. Burning flesh, not unlike the pungent, grotesque aroma that had risen from the pit as the Pharaoh's men first forged the Millennium Items. Bakura clutched the Ring around his neck, wiping the blackened, bloody liquid clean from its golden surface. He wanted whatever soul still existed in there, even if it were only his host, to watch their enemy burn. It was a slow, silent thing, and not the loud torture that Bakura had displayed. But it was just as unsettling, and for Marik at least, just as rewarding.
Marik crouched down and leaned in close to the fire, as if ready to whisper a secret. "Burn in Hell, Pharaoh." "