Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material. 

Culmination

Chapter 15

 

 

Dizzy smiled happily to herself as she pulled the brush through Bridget’s long blond hair, all the while listening to his cheerful prattling.  He’d asked that she join him on the ship for some favor he wanted to ask, and now that that had been concluded, she’d agreed to help him get ready for his trip to Zepp.  So far that had included telling him his outfit looked good, brushing his hair, and listen to him list his credentials for how qualified he was for this mission.

 

“Besides, Ky needs my help,” Bridget concluded, shaking his head slightly to get all of his hair behind his shoulders for Dizzy to take care of.  “So I’ll do my part.”

 

Dizzy’s smile deepened as she finished with the brush and sat back.  “You really like Ky, don’t you?”

 

“Yup!  He’s amazing.”  Bridget spun around to face her, his eyes bright and excited.  “He’s strong, and smart, and serious, and…and amazing!  I’m going to be just like him.” 

 

“Oh?  That’s a lot to live up to.”

 

“Of course it is.  He’s my idol.”

 

“I see.”  Dizzy’s eyes thinned in quiet humor as she watched Bridget make the final preparations to his attire and pull on his hat.  “You really care about him.”

 

Bridget paused, caught by the subtle softening of her voice just then.  When he glanced back at her his cheeks were reddened shyly.  “Well…yeah.  Like I said—he’s my idol.”  He turned back around, making sure his shirt was straight.  “He’s the best guy I’ve ever met.  And he’s doing so much to take care of everyone…I want to do this for him.  So make sure he stays put here and relaxes.  Oh—and finish that thing I asked you about.”

 

“Of course.”  Still smiling Dizzy stood, crossing to the door.  “Shall we go?  I’m sure everyone’s going to want to see you off.”

 

“Sure!”

 

The pair left the ship, traveling the short distance across the airfield to where the small craft they would be taking was waiting.  Johnny and Youn were there with the Jellyfish Pirates, as well as Ky and Testament.  Bridget hopped up to Johnny and gave him a stiff salute.  “Jellyfish Pirate Bridget, preparing to depart on Top Secret mission!” he announced proudly.

 

Johnny smirked.  “Permission to depart granted,” he returned in kind.  “Good luck.”

 

Bridget nodded, and as Youn said his goodbyes to the crew he turned to Ky and Testament.  “I’ll be back soon with all the information you could possibly want!”

 

Ky smiled, and shook his hand.  “Just remember everything we told you,” he said.  “What we really need to know is where their factory is.”

 

“Right—leave it to me.”  Still beaming, Bridget shook Testament’s hand and sent Dizzy one last grin before boarding the ship after Youn.

 

Dizzy stood back as the ship took off, and those that had gathered to wish their friends well began to scatter.  She thought she might have caught a glimpse of something uncertain in Ky’s face as he started back towards the House, but she didn’t have time to wonder; Testament was striding purposefully towards her, and she straightened, a little wary of what he might have to say.  He looked serious.

 

“Dizzy,” he began with a slight nod.  “I’m sorry, if I worried you last night.  I….”  He hesitated, uncharacteristically so.  “I have a favor to ask of you.”

 

Dizzy straightened curiously.  “Yes?”

 

“I want you to teach me how to use my magic to heal.”

 

*****

 

Ky sighed appreciatively as the jets of warm water fell over him, sliding through his hair and onto stiff shoulders, easing the tensions from his body brought on by too much contemplation and confusion.  Having returned to the House in something of a daze he had quickly realized this was the only solution—a warm shower to clear his mind and relieve his sore limbs.  Parts of his back were yet sensitive but the sting was only minor, enough that he could ignore it in favor of healing steam.  As far as he was concerned it was pure bliss, and he managed to keep his worries at bay long enough to rinse the sand off him, and scrape the lingering bits of nail polish from his fingers.  His only lament was in that he wasn’t yet able to clean the stubborn dye from his hair.  Not because Testament had said he preferred its original shade—nothing like that, he assured himself.  He simply was ready to start feeling like himself again.

 

Eventually, though, Ky’s earlier musings got the better of him, and he stood still a while under the heated streams as he sorted them into place.  There were too many things to consider: the Ninth and his robots and what they meant to his order; Baiken and Anji waiting for them in Rome with no knowledge of the danger that could be pursuing them even now; Bridget’s journey alone to Zepp and whether or not he’d be able to gather Potemkin’s help; Testament’s confessions from the night before, his suffering and hate….

 

And the kiss shared that morning.  He could remember it clearly with so much warmth already surrounding him, and it made him shift slightly, as if fearful that someone could see his faint blush.  It had been so long since he’d taken a lover that even the memory of those lips against him were enough to curl something in his stomach.  After everything, to think that Testament might…care for him that way….  He had no idea what answer to give, or even if Testament was asking for one.

 

Ky sighed, trying to turn his thoughts away from such subjects—it was foolish, and selfish for him to be considering something so reckless and sentimental when there were lives at stake, maybe even in jeopardy at this moment.  Especially considering this was Testament, a Gear….

 

Ky’s mind twisted, taking his curiosity back those many decades.  He was suddenly wishing that Testament had shared yet more with him on the beach that night.  Even if Testament claimed his former life made no difference to him now, there were still years of human existence buried somewhere in his memory.  Ky couldn’t help but wonder what kind of person he had once been before he was tainted and converted; could he have been the quiet children’s playmate that he had seen eating breakfast with the girls aboard Mayship?  The compassionate listener Ky himself had spilled his secrets to?  Perhaps he had not been so different from Ky himself, an officer of the Holy Order during the war, struggling against impossible odds for the sake of a peace that seemed distantly out of reach.  There were so many things he did not yet know and would have liked to ask.  About his life, the father he had mentioned—if Sol had been as difficult and reckless then as he was now.

 

Ky’s eyes slid slowly open, taking in the space of tile ahead of him, the paths of water across its surface.  He felt the liquid sliding along his cheeks and into the corners of his mouth.

 

Testament had known Sol while he was still human.

 

Gradually, Ky straightened, fingers curling when the implication behind Testament’s words finally became clear to him.

 

*****

 

Bridget had told himself that he was going to sleep through the ride to Zepp so that he would arrive rested and eager.  He should have known better.  The entire way he bounced in his seat, checking his yo-yos again and again, chattering on with Youn about one thing or the other to pass the time.  It seemed to take forever.  He expressed as much to his companion often—already quite used to childish insistence, Youn agreed each time with a smile.  And then Bridget would happily repeat the cycle over.

 

Truthfully, the small craft made good time despite its small size.  With the wind on their side it was only a few short hours later that the dark, formidable shadow against the sky began to clearly form the shape of a city.  Bridget leaned forward against his seat harnesses to better see.  Even in the early afternoon the sky surrounding Zepp was coated and dark, thick spumes of heavy black smoke rising from the countless silos and buildings, giving the floating mass a foreboding air.  The country that had started as a tiny dot on the horizon was now an immeasurable mass of sculpted iron filling the windows of their small craft.  Bridget had expected it to be grand, but he had never imagined something so enormous—as if it were a city plucked right out of the ground and given flight.  The perimeter was jagged, the underside a mess of protruding metal shapes surrounded by whirling iridescent light.  It reminded him of a whale, and indeed the array of airships darting in and out of its ports resembled tiny fish, the buzzing of their engines drowned out the by the low, droning hum of the city itself.

 

“Is…that it?” Bridget said anxiously, his eyes wide and excited.  “That’s really Zepp….”

 

“Yes,” the man at his side confirmed, his own voice tipped with awe.  “I’ve seen it twice before, but it never ceases to amaze me.”  He turned their small craft toward a large transport barge, which was heading for what might have been a dock on the side closest to them.  “Are you ready?”

 

Bridget gulped.  “Yeah.  I…didn’t think it’d be so big.”

 

“Will you be able to find Potemkin all right?”

 

“Yeah—yes!  Yes, I’ll be fine.” 

 

Bridget puffed himself up, leaning back once more as he watched the city surge toward them like a tidal wave. 

 

*****

 

The first few hours of the day Testament spent in quiet concentration in one of the House’s many rooms.  He had been serious when he made his request of Dizzy, and she had responded in kind, sharing with him all that she had managed to learn and adapt.  It was difficult to know if he was making any progress, given that he had no one to practice on—being both Gears themselves their own instinctual healing would render any test of his magic unreliable, and neither would even consider for a moment using someone else as a test subject.  Still, Testament had always been a master at the manipulation of magic, and though he wasn’t used to projecting the more docile side of his abilities, with time he came to grasp the concepts Dizzy was doing her best to explain. 

 

She was pleased with him.  He had always been relieved when in her favor, and her simple, calm company helped to quell the lingering apprehension left over from the night before.  He was still a little anxious about meeting with the children again, especially if some of them took to questioning him about his absence from the last dinner.

 

“Then you don’t have to see them,” Dizzy answered simply, her smile slight but sincere.  They were seated together on the bed, enjoying the breeze seeping through the open windows.  “There’s no need to push yourself, Testament.  You’ve done so much already, and…I understand, that you need time.”  She squeezed his hand gently.  “I’m just so relieved that you’ve already come this far.”  She ducked her head.  “I’m proud of you.”

 

“Dizzy.”  Testament sighed quietly, placing his other hand over their already joined ones.  “Thank you.  I…would like to try.”

 

“I know.”  She straightened, giving her wings a small shake.  “You can stay with me today, if you want,” she suggested.  “I promised Bridget I’d work on something for him, so I’ll be staying put most of the day.  If you needed some time away from everyone.”

 

Testament was admittedly tempted by the offer, but a moment later he was able to call back to him other matters that deserved more attention than him hiding away.  “Thank you.  But…I think I should go find Ky.”

 

“Ky?” Dizzy echoed curiously.  “He was acting rather…reserved, this morning.”

 

She was silent a moment, her lips tipped in a thoughtful frown that Testament was easily able to interpret—he saved her from asking.  “He stayed with me last night,” he explained.  “And I think I may have…distressed him, somewhat.  I don’t want there to be a misunderstanding between us.”

 

Dizzy giggled quietly, and he frowned, watching her.  “What is it?”

 

“It’s just kind of cute,” Dizzy admitted shyly.  “Ky seems to attract very different kinds of people to him.”

 

“You mean…Bridget?”

 

“Yes, actually.  I think he’s quite taken with him.”  She tilted her head to the side.  “And the two of you have spent a lot of time together lately.  I almost wouldn’t have thought it possible.”

 

“Nor I,” Testament agreed, a thin smile pulling at the edges of his lips.  “But…he’s tolerable, for a human.”

 

Dizzy sighed, shaking her head.  “I really mean it,” she protested.

 

Testament’s eyes softened.  “Yes, I know.  And yes, we have been…getting along.”  He wasn’t sure what to call it anymore.  Something had happened between them.  Or maybe just to Testament himself.  “I must admit that I feel very close to him.  We are, perhaps, not as different as I would have once believed.”

 

Dizzy watched him, her eyes widening when she seemed to realize that he was telling the truth.  “I’m glad,” she said softly, her voice thickening with elated emotion.  “I really am.”

 

“As am I.”  Testament pushed to his feet, passing a hand back through his hair to push it from his shoulders.  “Thank you, Dizzy, for your help.  Though I should hope I never have to use such power.”

 

“Of course.”  Dizzy was still smiling as her eyes followed him to the door.  “If you feel anxious at all, you can come back,” she offered.  “I’ll be here.”

 

“Yes, thank you.”  With a slight nod Testament left the room.

 

Once outside, Testament took in a deep breath of the salty air.  He hadn’t been lying earlier—his demeanor had greatly improved from the state he had found himself in last night, thanks to the efforts of so many people looking out for him.  Especially Ky.  The irony was enough to draw a quiet chuckle from him as he ventured to the lower level of the House.  Ky, global leader and killer of Gears, had cradled him in his lap through the night.  It was mysterious, and warming, making him wonder what words he could possibly conjure for when he faced the man again.

 

Especially after….

 

Testament’s thoughts were interrupted suddenly by a flare against his senses—a surge of magic of some kind, closer than it should have been.  He would have been concerned if not for the cheer of children’s voices that followed.  Frowning, he made his way outside on long strides.  Of all the things he would have expected to find, what he came upon was not one of them.

 

Many of the House’s children had gathered, seated in the sand or on small beach chairs, their attention cast anxiously inward to what was a surprising spectacle: Johnny and Ky circling each other, barefoot and swords brandished.  The former had shed his coat and hat and was grinning smugly to himself—his opponent, however, was as stone-faced as Testament had ever seen him.  As the Gear watched they gauged each other carefully over the tops of their blades, and struck together.  Thunderseal, bearing odd colors, moved in a wide, sweeping arch, Johnny’s katana in sharp swipes, the pair of them meeting only in brief moments of reflected light and metal.  Johnny was on the defensive, a bit of clever footwork keeping him safely out of Ky’s striking distance, as they were both aware that his katana could never stand up to the weight and power behind Ky’s prized sword.  They met, parted, and circled, adorned by the cheers of their audience.  Testament came forward slowly, carefully watching the sparring match as it continued.

 

“Keep an eye on our feet,” Johnny was saying, and though his voice was light there was no doubt that, behind his sunglasses, his eyes never swayed from Ky’s moving form.  “In fighting your balance is everything, and nothing can topple you as easily as poor footwork.  Always be light on your feet.  Like this!”

 

Johnny leapt, bringing his sword down in a vertical slash—Ky pivoted on his left foot, taking him easily out of the attack.  With that slight momentum he turned all the way around, intending a strike to Johnny’s uncovered back.  But the pirate was expecting as much, and as he landed he ducked, allowing Ky’s sword to pass over him.  When he extended his leg in a sweep it was then Ky who took briefly to the air, landing away from him, allowing Johnny to rise to his feet once more.

 

“Get him, Johnny!” May hollered from the sidelines, and was echoed eagerly by her companions.

 

Testament frowned as he reached the line of children, his eyes following the duel a while longer as the pair continued to trade blows.  He turned to one of the girls at his side.  “What’s going on?”

 

“Mr. Kiske was practicing out here by himself,” she piped up, eyes bright with excitement, “so Johnny asked if he wanted a match.  Isn’t it cool?”

 

Testament nodded vaguely and went back to watching them.  Something was wrong in this.  Though Johnny was still speaking easily to the children, playing the part of a demonstrating teacher, Ky’s eyes were sharp and intense as if in real combat.  There was a line of tension in his spine that should not have been there for so innocent an exercise.  His musings were confirmed when a vein of electricity slipped from Thunderseal’s tip during their next exchange, sending a puff of sand into the air where it impacted.  The children were impressed, but Johnny must have seen the slip of control for what it was, as the muscles of his jaw tightened.

 

With Ky fighting seriously it was only a matter of time before the pirate found himself felled, on his back in the sand with a sword tip at his throat.  The crowd was a mixture of cheers and disappointment at the abrupt end of the match.  Ky turned, without offering any remark or assistance as he moved several paces away from his brief opponent.  And he stood there, posture stiff and voice unused, long after Johnny had been helped to his feet and returned his hat.

 

It was then, while the children were focused on Johnny and his well-fought match, that Testament took it upon himself to approach the unmoving officer.  It was a little intimidating with still so many people about, but he did his best to pay them no mind.  He was only watching Ky now, the tension that was still apparent in his shoulders and his grip around Thunderseal’s handle.  Frowning, he called to him.  “Ky.”

 

Ky flinched, and some of the children hushed as he turned to flicker his gaze back at the approaching Gear.  His expression faltered; from stern attention, to confusion, to shame, and then again into hardened intensity.  “Yes?”

 

“What is all this?” Testament asked evenly.

 

Ky tipped his chin up slightly.  “Just some exercise.  To work out some extra energy.”

 

Testament considered the man for a long time, trying to puzzle out the unusually coarse tone of his voice.  He recognized it—that voice that he had heard on Mayship’s wing, not long ago.  That night when they had spoken of Sol….

 

The answer came to him suddenly, and Testament’s eyes thinned as he realized what was taking place in front of him. He felt a sudden surge of bitterness in his chest for the man who caused Ky’s expression to harden, his hands to tremble tensely at his sides.  Ky knew.  “It’s him, isn’t it?” he asked, and it wasn’t until Ky flinched that he realized how similar he had sounded to Ky’s greeting to him the night before.

 

“…Yes.”

 

“Are you all right?”

 

“I’m fine,” Ky replied tersely.  “I just need to deal with it.  In my own way.”  Though his face was hard his hand was shaking a little, as was clear from the tiny trough Thunderseal’s tip was carving in the sand.

 

Testament didn’t say anything for a long moment, feeling the eyes slip between him and Ky, listening to the soft, confused murmurs spreading behind them.  He could imagine Johnny’s worried look without having to see him.  And though Testament had not come here prepared to face Ky in such a state as he was in now, he was not about to abandon him to it, either.

 

His fists curled at his sides.  “Then fight me.”

 

Ky started, turning to face him squarely with a bewildered look.  “What?”

 

“Fight me,” Testament repeated, clasping his hands together.  A swell of magic drew into form the curved blade and long wood of his scythe.  It rested heavily in his grip.  “If you need to take it out on someone, take it out on me.”

 

Their eyes met, unblinking and without falter, and Ky stood a little taller, his face a mix of frustration over tightly concealed pain.  But by then Thunderseal was already humming in his grip.

 

*****

 

Following the excitement of having reached the city and swept easily through Zeppian customs and checkings, Bridget found himself suffering the first bouts of uncertainty.  Youn had been made to wait at the docks, having no visa himself, leaving Bridget alone in unfamiliar streets.  Everything was busy and loud, from the people milling about to the sounds of distant machinery and the low, constant rumble of the city doing its best to stay afloat.  It was making his ears ring; he earned several pointed and condescending glares as he kept his hands clasped to the sides of his head for the first several minutes he spent wandering about.  There seemed to be streets twisting off in every direction, each as smelly an unappealing as the others.

 

“Stupid Zepp.”  Bridget kicked idly at the ground as he made his way further into the city.  No one looked very helpful or very willing to give him directions.  He had figured he’d just be able to head for the tallest building and that would be the capital, but…all of the buildings were tall, and ugly, and none of them looked right.  “I’m going to have to ask,” he thought aloud, quite disconcerted by the entire affair, trivial as it seemed.  He had been hoping for a triumphant, confident beginning to his mission.

 

Bridget asked around to a few people, and from them received clipped responses and half-hearted directions; they could tell, he realized, that he wasn’t a native.  And though he bristled indignantly there was nothing he could do about it.  “Come on, Bridget,” he said to himself as he marched down the street an old man had vaguely indicated.  “Let’s find us a Potemkin.”

 

At least, he would have, if not for the sudden murmur he caught spreading behind him.  Curiously Bridget turned, and he gasped quietly at the sight of the figure making its way down the street.  With a quiet eep he ducked behind a building corner so that he could watch without being spotted; though why his vigil required such caution, he could not have explained.

 

The man was clearly not from Zepp, judging by the amount of attention he was gathering from the bystanders, more so than Bridged had attracted a while ago.  He was tall, and thickly built—a tattered black and red shirt was stretched tightly over his wide chest, pale, faded jeans encasing muscled thighs and long, sturdy limbs.  His skin was tanned from years of exposure to the elements, though the effects of that same lifestyle had not been quite so kind to the mess of brown hair secured at the back of his skull.  Everything about him was coarse and worn, from the cuff of his gloves to the bored frown twisting his features, the dull gleam against his sword as he strode purposefully forward.  The tarnished metal at his belt bore the crudely carved word, “Free.”

 

Bridget held his breath when he realized what he was looking at—it was Sol Badguy, the legendary mercenary that Anji had talked about.  He had the sword, the belt, and the headband, just as had been described.  This was him, striding so boredly through Zepp’s busy streets, as if having no idea of how remarkable he looked.  Bridget’s sprits were dampened only by the thought that it was this man that had caused Ky such distress back in Rome.  If Ky knew he were here….

 

But Ky wasn’t here, and this…this was his opportunity.  If Sol was here, if he, as Ky had believed, knew what was happening, then he might have information.  Or, at the very least, know where to find Potemkin.

 

Bridget licked his lips.  He was going to have to get his attention somehow, to make sure that Sol wouldn’t just brush him aside.  It would have to be something good.

 

With a deep breath Bridget snuck out from behind the building, following the crowd until he was a good distance ahead of the man, hopefully without having been spotted.  From there he turned and broke into a run.  With so many people about and given his already short stature Sol didn’t see his approach.  Soon Bridget was close enough that he could hear the man muttering under his breath, could make out the dull gleam of his eyes.

 

He brought his foot back, and kicked Sol in the shin as hard as he could. 

 

 

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