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 17

 

 

Bridget gulped.  It wasn’t often that something managed to throw him, as he’d always prided himself on being quick in wit and on his feet, but he hadn’t been prepared to find himself face to face with Arthur Galleon.  He looked harmless, and neither Potemkin or Sol seemed at all disturbed with his presence, but those eyes…Bridget would never mistake eyes like that, nor the calm, scrutinizing stare the man was fixing him with.

 

But Bridget was nothing if not resourceful, and his lapse was only momentary—before anyone could notice his discomfort he stepped forward, offering his hand to the man with a bright grin.  “It’s good to meet you Dr. Galleon.  I don’t really know what you do, but I think I’ve heard your name in the news before.”

 

Dr. Galleon smiled warmly and shook his hand.  “A pleasure to meet you, Bridget.”

 

“Bridget here is a bounty hunter,” Potemkin explained, seemingly pleased that the pair was getting along.  “Are you here on business, Bridget?”

 

“Actually, yeah.”  Bridget straightened.  Though it was probably dangerous to speak his intentions in front or Dr. Galleon, he was curious to see the man’s reaction.  “I’m trying to get some information for a few friends of mine—about the killer robots that have been running around.”

 

The three men present each straightened, surprised by Bridget’s straightforward and ambitious response.  Dr. Galleon didn’t react as greatly as Bridget had suspected, but his eyes widened faintly, his chin tilting up.  It was recognition if nothing else, and it made Bridget’s heart skip a little.  Dr. Galleon didn’t know he was on to him, and that meant he might be able to get some information out of him.

 

“That’s some coincidence,” Potemkin was saying, bringing Bridget’s attention back.  “Dr. Galleon and I were just talking about that.”  He nodded politely to his guest.  “If you don’t mind staying a bit longer, Arthur, would you like to share with him what we’ve found out?”

 

Dr. Galleon nodded, somewhat distractedly.  “Of course.  This is a matter of great importance to us all.”  He took a step back into the office.  “If the two of you have any information you can share with us, it will be a great help.”

 

Bridget wanted to reply that he was sure it would be, but he clamped his jaw shut.  With a bright smile he strode importantly into the office, Sol following with a shake of his head.

 

*****

 

Ky and Testament managed to catch a few stares as they wandered together into the town, though thankfully most were discreet; the officer wasn’t up to fending off their curiosity or their questions, if they had indeed figured out who he was.  Most likely in a place this small everyone had long since heard of his arrival, and though he took Youn’s earlier warnings to heart, it didn’t seem as if they would have a problem.  Or perhaps the people simply knew better than to test the generosity of the Global Police.

 

It was a small town, simple but clean with thin buildings and quaint shops.  The people milled about with carts of goods and groceries as if having no other care—so unlike the bustle of Paris, or the sinister labyrinth of Rome.  With the air of the sea still fresh Ky found that the atmosphere was greatly calming, to his immense relief.  Though nothing seemed to help him steady his steps more effectively than the presence at his side.

 

Ky could tell that Testament was doing his best; he didn’t speak, even if he looked as if he were working up to it, but his manner was reassuring and his posture straight.  His strides were the smooth, unbroken gait of an animal, his eyes gleaming but not sharp.  His hand was undemanding around Ky’s.  As they walked Ky could sometimes feel the muscles of his arm tense, readying to offer something—a word of comfort, perhaps, which never came, and still Ky was satisfied.  He knew Testament had no answers for him, but the intentions of sympathy hidden in his half-formed gestures were enough consolation for now.

 

“There aren’t many cities like this in Italy anymore,” Ky said suddenly, his voice quietly thoughtful as he scanned the peaceful streets.  “Do you think Rome looked like this, before it fell…?”

 

“I wouldn’t know,” Testament confessed, though he seemed pleased that the silence had been at last broken.  “But I imagine it was…a bit larger.”

 

Ky smiled.  “Yes, I suppose it would have been.”

 

They walked a bit further, taking in the sights and people, until Ky spotted a shop of particular interest across the street: a tiny antique shop with all manner of charming vases, plates, and assorted cups in the window.  With a quiet intake of breath he gave Testament’s hand a tug to guide him toward it, and though he was puzzled, the Gear followed without protest.

 

A faint bell above the door signaled their entrance into the small shop, and Ky had to smile; he had been to many places just like this, and stepping into the comfortable surroundings almost felt like going home.  He at last released Testament’s hand as he moved to the glass cabinets displaying several shelves of delicate, hand-painted tea cups.

 

“Aren’t they wonderful?” Ky said, mostly to himself, as he moved along, studying each intricate design.  “Especially this pale green one—is that a flower of this island, do you think?  I don’t think I’ve ever seen a flower that color.”

 

Frowning, Testament came up beside him to see for himself.  “They’re tea cups,” he reported, puzzled.

 

Ky smiled.  “Yes, they are.”  He continued down the case, marveling at the craftsmanship.  “I collect them.”

 

“Collect tea cups?” Testament echoed, sounding no more enlightened.

 

“Sa’lude?” came a call from behind them, and Ky turned to see an old woman in a simple dress appear out of a room at the back of the store.  She blinked at them in surprise—doubtlessly recognizing who they must have been—and straightened, smoothing the wrinkles from the front of her attire.  “Welcome, sirs,” she greeted with a heavy accent.

 

“Good afternoon,” Ky returned politely, hoping to win her over with sheer sincerity.  “We were just having a look around, if that’s all right.”

 

“Oh, of course,” the woman quickly assured.  She paused.  “If it’s sir Patriorte’s work you’re interested in, we have another set here behind the counter,” she offered.

 

“Sir Patriorte,” Ky repeated thoughtfully.   He had never heard of the name, and that alone was enough to collect his full attention.  “Yes, I’d like to see it.”  He approached, his companion a few steps behind.

 

The old woman—the shop’s keeper, as it seemed—lifted a box out from under the counter, revealing a set of finely crafted tea cups, saucers, and a sugar cup, each bearing the same pale green flowers Ky had noticed earlier.  “They’re Corsican Roses,” she explained, noting Ky’s interest.  “Native to our island—if you’re with us come spring, you’ll see them about.”

 

“I’m afraid I won’t be,” Ky replied.  “Perhaps…I’ll have to take some with me.”  He turned to Testament.  “Will you come back to the ship with me?  I don’t have any money with me at the moment.”

 

“If…you want,” Testament replied, and after Ky had assured the woman of his return they headed outside once more.  The Gear’s lips were thoughtfully pursed.  “You collect tea cups,” he repeated, as if the words would make more sense if he heard them again.

 

Ky smiled warmly at his baffled expression.  “Yes, I do.  I have dozens of them at my home in Paris, from all over the world.”

 

“And…do you use them all?”

 

“Oh, no—there’s too many for that.  Only a few.”

 

Testament’s brow furrowed in deeper concentration.  “Then why collect them?” he asked.

 

“Because that’s…what I do,” Ky explained as best he could.  “Whether you use them is not the point—I’m just a collector.”

 

“But….”  He was still having little luck comprehending.  “Why collect something you don’t use?”

 

“Because….”  Ky was going to give a thoughtful answer until he caught a glimpse of Testament’s face—so childishly intent that he had to laugh, openly and sincerely.  “Because I like them,” he said, giving arm a tap.  “And that’s good enough.”

 

Testament sighed quietly, though he was also smiling.  “All right.  I can understand that, at least.” 

 

He slipped his hand back into Ky’s, and the officer blushed despite himself.  He was still so unused to this kind of intimate treatment, and it made something warm swell behind his ribs.  But because there were still people on the street paying attention to them he couldn’t do anything more than lean subtly into Testament’s shoulder, turning his head to catch the scent of his hair.  “Thank you,” he whispered.

 

Testament glanced at him curiously.  “What for?”

 

“Too many things.”

 

*****

 

With the four men seated, Potemkin took it upon himself to begin the exchange.  “It looks like we’re all here for the same reason,” he said evenly, “so I might as well say it plainly; we’re all trying to find the origin of these robots that have been impersonating Sir Kiske.  So far we don’t have many leads.”

 

Bridget’s lip twitched, though he dared not show his triumphant expression to Dr. Galleon.  “Have you been able to find anything?” he asked anxiously.  “Some…friends of mine are on their hit list.”

 

“’Hit list’,” Sol all but grunted.  “And how do you know that?”

 

“Because I asked one,” Bridget shot back knowingly.

 

Potemkin frowned at him. “Asked one?”

 

“Well….”  Though Bridget was aware that if he were identified as a pirate accomplice he could probably be arrested…he trusted Potemkin.  Besides, it wasn’t as if they’d done any pillaging since he joined the crew, so he hadn’t broken any laws yet.  “Actually, I’ve been helping out the Jellyfish,” he admitted.  “The robots are after Johnny and May.”

 

Potemkin didn’t look at all cross, so he took that as a good sign.  “I see.  We’ve been able to identify several of the people the robots are after, though finding them is a different problem.”

 

“Anji and Baiken are in Rome,” Sol contributed.  “If you’re worried about them you can pick them up, but I don’t think those robots will give them too much trouble.”

 

Dr. Galleon folded his hands in his lap.  “You shouldn’t underestimate them.  We’ve already confirmed that Chipp Zanuff went missing some time ago, further north.  And, of course, Sir Kiske.”

 

Sol’s eyes narrowed on the man, and Bridget fidgeted—even if the glare wasn’t directed at him it was intimidating.  “What about Kiske?”

 

“Oh…that’s right.  You wouldn’t know.”

 

Before Sol could demand an explanation Potemkin spoke up.  “Ky Kiske’s airship was found in Genoa,” he related gravely.  “At least, what was left of it, along with dozens of destroyed robots.  There were also reports of human blood, but…no body.”  His head lowered slightly.  “There was no other sign of what might have happened to him.  So far the government has been able to keep that information from the press.”

 

Bridget bit at the inside of his lip, glancing about at their serious faces.  He would have liked to assure them that Ky was fine, but…there was no telling if Ky would have wanted him to.  For now, all he had to worry about was finding out where the robots were.  “So you didn’t find anything?” he pressed on.  “If Ky was kidnapped they would have had to take him somewhere.”

 

“No, we didn’t find anything,” Potemkin reluctantly confessed.  “No tracks from a vehicle, no airships in the area other than...maybe the Jellyfish Pirates.”

 

Three pairs of eyes fell on Bridget, and he straightened.  “We did go by there,” he said quickly.  He did, after all, pride himself on being a skilled actor.  “We even picked up a few of the robots and….”

 

He trailed off when he noticed Dr. Galleon watching him more intensely than a moment ago.  He licked his lips.  “…We didn’t get anything out of them,” he finished.  “One that was still working tried to attack Johnny and May—that’s how we knew they were wanted.”

 

Potemkin nodded thoughtfully.  “Most of them were too badly damaged, but we did pick up a few ourselves.  Dr. Galleon here has been heading the investigation as to their creator.”

 

“Their security is quite advanced,” the doctor himself took over.  “So far I haven’t been able to access much of its memory, so there isn’t any way of knowing where they came from.”

 

Again Bridget was forced to keep his protests carefully hidden.  The man was a liar—Noverre and Octy hadn’t had any trouble at all hot-wiring the Robo Ky they’d found, and it had easily given up Dr. Galleon’s name.  If only there was a way to warn Potemkin!

 

“We’ve been trying to trace their line of materials,” Potemkin continued, “but that’s been a dead end as well.  There are just too many different smuggling rings active in Italy, especially through Rome.  And most of the countryside was never developed after the war; if they’re being made somewhere near here, they’ll be difficult to find.”

 

“There should still be a trail,” Sol reasoned.  “Those kinds of materials are going to have to be transported by airship, and there are only so many places a large ship can land near here.  If there is a factory in Italy it’d have to be near one of the settlements.”

 

Potemkin nodded.  “We’ve thought of that, too.  But that means searching each of them with no leads, and there’s still no definite proof that they’re even in Italy.”

 

Bridget pursed his lips in deep thought.  Though he had studied a bit about Italy in preparing to be a bounty hunter, he didn’t know enough about the different settlements to suggest any of them for search.  It was time to take a risk.  “Dr. Galleon?” he asked innocently enough.  “These robots are pretty advanced, aren’t they?  There shouldn’t be a whole lot of people who are able to make something like them.”

 

Dr. Galleon frowned at him, and the boy did his best not to fidget.  “That’s true,” he conceded carefully.  “In fact, my research team investigated such a design during the war, while I was working in Zepp—as a means of countering Gears.  But the war ended long before we could perfect any of our work.”

 

“These things aren’t working for Zepp,” Sol grunted.  “I don’t think anyone from here could be behind it, even if they are the biggest suspects.”  His gaze flickered briefly to Potemkin, who nodded, as if accepting an apology for his remark.  “Which means there are only so many people with the resources and know-how who could head a project like this.”  He fixed an eye on Dr. Galleon.  “Is there anyone in your research team now who could be leaking information to someone?”

 

Dr. Galleon straightened crossly.  “Leaking?  That’s absurd.  My colleagues would never.”

 

Sol shrugged, though he didn’t look at all convinced.  “Then unless anyone else here has any ideas, we’re fresh out of luck.”

 

Potemkin sighed heavily.  “Yes, it seems that way.  But President Gabriel has decided to keep Zepp here for longer than usual, to help the investigation.”

 

“I’m sure.”  Sol pushed heavily to his feet.  “Well, that was unhelpful.  Unless you have anything else, I’ll be going.”

 

Bridget caught one of Sol’s thigh straps, keeping him from getting away just yet.  “Potemkin,” he said brightly, “you mentioned before that you have some sort of reference room, right?  You said I’d be able to look things up that would help me with my bounties.”

 

“Yes, that’s right.  The Records Room is on the third floor—if you plug your badge into one of the terminals, it should let you access whatever information you might need.”

 

Bridget nodded, letting Sol go as he hopped to his feet.  “In that case, I think I’ll go take a look.  There are some other things I want to look up—about a few smaller bounties I’m interested in.”  He bowed his head politely to the pair.  “Thanks for your help!  I hope you have good lucking finding the robots.”

 

Potemkin nodded, Dr. Galleon glancing discreetly away.  “Good luck to you as well, Bridget,” the former offered.  “Come back if you ever need anything.”

 

“Thanks!”

 

Bridget took Sol by the hand and led the way outside, though it wasn’t until they were safe partway down the hall that he spoke.  “I do have a lead,” he confessed.  “But I couldn’t say it in there.”

 

Sol scoffed, rolling his eyes.  “Sure you do, kid.”

 

“No, really!”  Bridget tried to tug him into the elevator, but Sol resisted, just so the boy would realize how ineffective his strength was.  After a glare from Bridget, though, they were both inside and going down to the third floor.  “Didn’t you think Dr. Galleon was acting strange?” Bridget persisted.  “He was nervous.”

 

“Scientists are always nervous,” Sol retorted.  “Potemkin trusts him.”

 

“Potemkin’s wrong.”  The elevator chimed as they reached their floor, and again Bridget took to the lead as they followed the signs leading toward the Records Room.  “And Dr. Galleon was wrong about the robots—they’re not that hard to get into.  We pirates were able to get into it.  And do you know what it told us?”  He glanced up at Sol’s face seriously.  “It said Dr. Galleon designed them.”

 

Sol frowned, as if finally beginning to take Bridget more seriously.  “And you believe that?”

 

“Robots don’t lie, do they?  Besides, you said yourself not many people should be able to make a robot like that.”

 

They entered the Records Room, requiring Bridget to show his badge once again before the technician indicated a computer they could use.  Bridget hopped over to it and took a seat.  “So what we really have to do,” he continued, popping his badge into a nearby slot, just as Potemkin had instructed, “is find out who works with Dr. Galleon.  Potemkin’s probably not investigating them because he trusts that weasel, so it’s up to us.”

 

Sol set a heavy hand on the back of Bridget’s chair, watching as he typed in his name to log into the system.  “You really know what you’re doing?”

 

“My dad back home has a computer to help with his money,” Bridget explained.  “It runs on magic, of course, but it’s not too different from this.  I think.”  He started to search for files on Dr. Galleon, which turned up old news records on his accomplishments and discoveries, his contributions toward the war effort.

 

Sol was quiet for a moment, just watching as Bridget scrolled through the different information.  “Are you really working with the Jellyfish?” he asked, almost sounding curious.  “I heard about what happened in Rome.  Someone mentioned Johnny had a blond kid with him.”  He cocked his head to the side.  “That you?”

 

“Yup.”

 

Another silent moment passed.  “And you said you were with them in Genoa,” he said abruptly.

 

Bridget straightened a little in his chair, but he didn’t glance back and didn’t falter in his search.  “Yeah….”

 

“What was it like?”

 

“It….”  Bridget licked his lips.  He knew if he said too much he’d give away that Ky was alive and all right—and judging by Ky’s reaction to hearing about Sol being anywhere nearby, he didn’t want to say too much.  If Sol went charging off to Sardinia after him there could be trouble.  “It was kind of scary,” he said truthfully.  “There were robot parts everywhere—if Ky was there, he took out more than his share of them, at least.  We didn’t find any that weren’t trashed.”

 

Sol shifted behind him.  “Then you think he was taken by them.”

 

“I wouldn’t know.”

 

“Hmph.”

 

Bridget licked his lips, hoping he wasn’t taking too much a chance in asking, but he was curious.  “Are you worried about him?”

 

“Why would I be?”

 

“Well, you’re asking….”

 

Sol grunted as he pushed away, flopping heavily into a chair at Bridget’s side.  “Wherever Ky is, the robots are, too,” he replied gruffly.  “I’m just trying to get two things done at once.”  His gaze flickered away.  “Besides, he’s driving Europe crazy with this little disappearing act of his.  The entire continent’s about to shit its pants.”

 

Bridget made a face at his metaphor.  “He could be dead by now, you know.”

 

Sol didn’t reply, but a moment later Bridget could feel an icy glare digging into him.  He tried not to look, but he couldn’t help it—nor could he help gulping at the lethal expression Sol was giving him.  “I’m just saying,” he said quickly.  “I mean, if I was an insane robot and knew Ky could take out fifty of my cousins at a time, I wouldn’t keep him around for too long, you know?”

 

“Do you know something?”

 

Bridget gulped again.  “Of course not.”

 

A thick hand snatched his wrist, and Bridget gasped quietly as he was jerked about in his chair to face the man.  Sol’s eyes, though dull in color, seemed to gleam sharply on him.  “Do you know something?” he demanded.

 

“…No.   No, I don’t know anything,” Bridget insisted, and when he gave his hand a tug Sol released him.  Relieved, he turned his attention back to the computer.  “But,” he offered, “if they did take Ky, it’d have to be for some reason, right?  So they might just be keeping him around.”

 

Sol leaned back in his chair, arms folding as if suddenly indifferent.  “He’s been gone for a while now,” he muttered.  “If they have plans for him, chances are they’ve already done it.”

 

“Then we’ll just have to hurry, right?”

 

Sol glared at him again, and for another few long moments the room was silent except for Bridget’s fingertips on the keys.  But soon enough Sol leaning forward in resignation to see the computer screen.  “Try clicking on that one.”

 

Bridget nodded, delving deeper into Zepp’s database.

 

 

To Next Chapter

 

Return

 

 

 

[*Sa’lude means “hello” in Sardinian, which is still spoken in Sardinia today.  Or at least, that’s what Google tells me.  *loves the internet*    Patriorte, however, I made up ^^]