Guilty Gear, its
characters and settings, are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used
without permission. Comments and critiques are very welcomed and
appreciated. I’ve rated it R for violence, language, and mature sexual
content of the male/male variety.
This fanfic is the sequel to Culmination. As a disclaimer,
I’d also like to say upfront that with this fic I’m
trying to explore some areas of the GG universe that haven’t been fleshed out
yet—though I’ve done my best to stick to existing GG canon, since I’ve decided
to add a few elements I hadn’t originally planned on, I’m making up a lot of
stuff. Rather than limit myself to trying to figure out where Ishiwatari-sensei is taking the games, I’m just expanding
from Culmination in a way I think is logical. So don’t take it too
seriously ^^;;. By the time the next game comes
out, I’m sure most of what I’ve come up with will be proved wrong, and I’m okay
with that. It’s all in good fun.
To everyone who read Culmination,
and especially those who offered feedback, thank you so much—I really
appreciate the time and support you’ve spent on me. The hardest part in
starting this sequel was trying to think of something that could out-drama Sol vs Ky, and though I’m not sure if
what I’ve come up will do the trick, I’ll do my best and I hope I won’t
disappoint you all.
Thanks again, I hope
you enjoy the fic .
Thunder Falling
Prologue
One Month Later
“I refuse to believe,” Ky Kiske stated firmly, though
with tightly restrained temperament, “that this establishment is without
measures to deal with the situation.”
The Chairman sighed
quietly, the sound just barely audible through the gleaming mirror that served
as their communicator. “Sir Kiske,” he returned
in equal tone, “the United Nations takes the recent threat to your life very
seriously.” On similar screens about the room, the representatives nodded
their heartfelt agreement. “The public outcry has been tremendous, and we
are responding as best we can.”
Ky’s
eyes narrowed irritably. “However.”
“However,” the aging
man continued, “our investigation has given us very little to go on. Even
with the help of Zepp and searching A-Country, we
have no leads as to who might be responsible, let alone how to deal with
them. Arthur Galleon Sr. was reported as decades many years ago—there is
no way to trace with whom he might have been affiliated.”
Ky
released his breath in a heavy, frustrated sigh. He had not returned to
A man at the Chairman’s
left cleared his throat lightly: Sir Reames, who had
taken over the investigation in Ky’s
place during his recovery. “We were able to determine that Leona Mariot was, in fact, the biological daughter to Arthur
Galleon Sr. Other than that she has no family, and we’ve been unable to
discover any contacts she might have had, or under whose orders they were
operating.”
A cold chill ran the
length of Ky’s spine, and
when he lifted his eyes again to the circle of projected faces, his expression
was hard. “You all know very well,” he said lowly, “whose orders they
were operating under.”
The Chairman
straightened in his chair, and several of the other representatives muttered
among themselves. “Officer Kiske. I
thought we had agreed that this topic would not be raised during our serious
delegations any longer.”
“You can’t all pretend
you don’t know—we’re talking about the order of our—”
“The Postwar
Administration Bureau no longer exists,” the Chairman interrupted tersely.
“It has long since been disbanded. We are not at war anymore, Officer Kiske.” He leaned back, folding his hands over his
podium. “This is a time of growth, of development. I would have
thought that you, most of all, would be eager to put that era behind us.”
Ky
pressed his lips thin to keep from scowling, starting to push to his
feet. “Mr. Chairman—”
“Sir Kiske.” He was interrupted again, this time by the
quiet voice of a young woman to his left. “We share your frustration,”
A-Country’s delegate continued. “But our enemy has many disguises.
We must start where we can.”
The Chairman frowned
severely, but her words calmed Ky
somewhat, and slowly he retook his seat. “Yes, of course,” he murmured
with a respectful nod. “Forgive me for being rash.”
“We will find your
attackers, Sir Kiske,” the Chairman took up once
more. “But for now, the world is glad to see you safely home.
Please focus your efforts for the moment on reassuring the public—that, at
least, is sure to ease Sir Reames’ investigation.”
“Yes. I
understand.” Seeing no further reason to remain, Ky stood, and offered a formal bow to the assembled
representatives. “Thank you, Sirs and Madams, for your time here
today. I will do everything in my power to serve the World Government.”
“Of course you will.”
One by one the
different gleaming mirrors lost their light; the image of Erica Bartholomew to
his left was the last to fade, her gaze meaningful. Ky waited until each had gone out before stepping
away from the room’s only desk and heading for the small door.
“Finished, Sir Kiske?” one of his officers greeted him outside, offering
him his cloak.
“Yes. Thank
you.” Ky tugged the
heavy fabric over his shoulders with a stifled sigh. “I’m afraid we
haven’t made much progress.”
“Give it time, Sir Kiske. It’s barely been a month—a lead is bound to
surface.”
“Yes, of course.
Thank you.” Offering the woman a weary smile Ky made his way through the thin hallways, past
several uniformed guards and locked gates, out onto the street once more.
Though the Records and
A carriage was waiting
for him at the corner, bearing the arms of the Global Police, and Ky assured the driver his business
has been conducted as he slipped inside. As the horses began to pull away
from the curb Ky settled
himself. He was remaining calm, he repeated in his mind. There was
no need to get worked up at this point. Their enemy was in retreat, and
as soon as they attempted to move again he and his officers would be ready;
regardless of whatever his superiors thought of it.
“That’s not a look of
overwhelming optimism, isn’t it?”
Ky
jumped, and his sword was nearly lifted when a hand came down heavily on his
wrist. There was force there he would not have felt in even some of his
best opponents. He stilled cautiously as he lifted his gaze to the
intruder’s face—his eyes widened slightly in recognition.
Seated next to him was
an older gentleman in a charcoal suit, calmly retrieving his hand to light his
pipe. “My apologies,” he said, his lips curled in amusement. “But I
thought you might want to hear what I have to say, before dismembering me.”
“We’ve met before,” Ky said guardedly, relaxing but
only just. “Months ago.”
“A few weeks before
your little trip to
Ky’s
eyes narrowed. “Your concern is appreciated. Now exactly who are
you?”
“No
one of consequence.
I only came to offer you my reassurances.”
“Reassurances?”
Slayer’s lip quirked, and he fixed Ky with a
sly eye. “I know what you want, Sir Kiske.
And I can very well hand it to you.”
Though Ky’s doubts ran deep enough to
show clearly in his face, his attention was sharp on the other man. “And
what makes you think,” he challenged, “you know what
I’m after?”
“You’re the police—you
people are always after the same thing,” Slayer chuckled. “In this case I
can be a bit more specific.” His humor abruptly vanished. “You
can’t have the Bureau, Kiske. But you can take
their hands.”
Ky
straightened, a bit of his earlier caution fading in favor of curiosity.
“You’re talking about the Assassin’s Guild.”
“I am.”
His eyes
narrowed. “I don’t make deals with criminals.”
Slayer’s good spirits
returned with a laugh. “And what makes you think I’m one of those?”
Ky
started to reply, but by then Slayer was already lifting a hand to silence
him. “Never mind. And don’t worry—I’m not
offering any deals. I wouldn’t want to soil your reputation.” He
paused to puff at his pipe.
“And?” Ky
prompted impatiently. “What do you want?”
“Just to assure you
that you still have allies,” Slayer replied, as if it were the most natural
thing in the world. “The Bureau was hit harder by your little Italian
tantrum than you know, and they’re backpedaling. Thanks to a little help
from me even the Guild is on its way out. If you strike now you’ll
scatter them.” He tilted his chin up. “Allowing
you to focus on more…important adversaries.”
Ky’s
expression hardened, and he would have insisted on further explanation when the
carriage suddenly halted: they had reached the Headquarters of the Global
Police. He glanced out the window only a moment, and when he looked back
his company had somehow faded to little more than a shadow against the
upholstery. “Wait—”
“Keep your wits, Kiske,” Slayer told him firmly as his figure lost its color
and gradually vanished. “The late Mr. Galleon was only a warm up.”
Ky
reached for him, but when his hand touched Slayer’s shoulder it disintegrated
abruptly into thin particles of smoke. A moment later there was no trace
left of the man, save the lingering odor of his pipe’s tobacco.
The carriage door
twisted open abruptly, and the officer started when Ky whirled to face him. “Um…we’re here,
sir. Is something the matter?”
“No….” Ky frowned severely, and he
tightened his cloak around him as he exited the carriage. “No, of course not. But I need to speak to our branch
in A-Country right away.”
*~*~*
One Month Later
The passageways of
crude iron and stone had only ever been poorly lit. They sloped and
twisted in sharp angles, mazelike, through hollowed out shells of former
buildings, sometimes carving deep below the earth. No symmetry or reason
could be applied to the headquarters of the Assassin’s Guild, in structure or
in occupancy. The men that slid up and down the tilted corridors were
silent and cold like half-formed ghosts, and when two passed they gave the
appearance of having moved completely through each other, unhindered.
There were no glances of acknowledgement, no greetings. It had always
been that way.
There was only one man
who could claim to receive respect from any of their Guild, and it was that
icon of their kind that Venom was on his way to meet at present. He stuck
out oddly from those he encountered along the corridors, clad in white against
the night’s shadows. When he passed a broken window along his path the
moonlight made him appear to glow. The sight turned a head or two which
he never saw; his focus was fixed intently on his way, on the subtle
illumination of a door’s outline at the end of the hall.
A clap of sharp sound
echoed down the passage towards him, not unlike a strike of skin, and a moment
later Venom was met with the woman’s bright and accusing eyes. She
stalked past him without a word, her hair skittering across his arm in the
relative enclosure of the hall they shared. He did not avert his gaze
from his goal but his lips twisted in a disapproving frown, even if this was
not an uncommon sort of meeting for them.
Venom continued to the
doorway in a slower pace, and there stood a moment—yet unnoticed, it was the
only chance he had.
The room was small and
dark, a bed in the corner and nothing else. It bore one window that was
its only source of light; silver moonlight formed a dim shaft from its opening
to the floor, misshapen by the interrupting figure of a man. He was
leaning against the stone sill, arms folded and face unimpassioned. In
the faint light Venom could only just barely make out the subtle blossoming of
angry red across his cheek.
Venom’s eyes narrowed,
and though his voice was quiet it managed to echo in the small room.
“Lord Zato.”
Zato-1 tilted his chin
up slightly, and for a long moment that was the only indication of
acknowledgement he gave. But Venom would not enter until he had been
invited, and at last he surrendered a falling of his shoulders. “Come
in.”
Venom moved smoothly to
the window, each step measured and without sound. The brush of hair
against his features would give his blind master enough indication of his
movement and location. “Lord Zato,” he
repeated, bowing his head slightly in offered respect. “Our mission was a
success.”
Zato-1 nodded vaguely,
his head turned toward the window; it seemed a strange gesture for a man who
couldn’t see the curved arches that made up the view, the pale gleam of stars
in the distance. “Then you are dismissed, until I need you.”
Venom bowed
again. “Yes, Lord Zato.” He hesitated,
risking glances at his master’s stern, troubled profile. “Are you…all
right, Sir?”
“You’re not
needed. Leave me.”
Venom straightened, and
remained still despite the order. “I mean no offense,” he said
carefully. “I’m only…concerned.” A tremor of indignation made him
bold. “I do not approve of her blatant disrespect.”
Zato-1’s head turned to
face him, and despite all their years of acquaintance it was still eerie, and alluring, to be so firmly fixated by a gaze that
wasn’t there. “We’re not speaking of her.”
Venom’s fingers curled
stiffly at his sides. He relented, as always. “Very well, Sir.”
“I already know your
feelings, anyway.” Zato-1 looked once again to the window, unmoved.
“And I don’t care for them. Are you leaving, now?”
“If…you
wish.” But still
Venom hesitated, and he could tell by his master’s posture that it was only
what was expected of him. He was not so unused to insubordination himself.
“I am sorry,” he murmured, though he wondered if his words could convey his
meaning well enough. “I wish I could be of some good to you, Lord Zato.”
Zato-1 sighed abruptly,
his arms slipping apart so he could rest his hand on the window sill. His
stance and expression softened as it only ever did in the presence of his most
trusted companion. “There’s no understanding her,” he muttered
bitterly. “I should have released her from us a long time ago.
Nothing will come of keeping her.”
Venom watched his
master with a stirring of hope, which he tried to admonish himself for.
“I know it’s not an easy decision for you,” he said quietly. “But I am at
your side, my Lord. Whatever you decide, I will support you.”
A smirk, thin and
faintly cruel, tugged the corners of Zato-1’s mouth. He reached out
suddenly, and Venom flinched just barely as worn fingertips spread over his
forehead, sliding the curtain of thick hair away from his face and tucking it
behind his ear. It was a careless gesture, and Venom both adored and
loathed how easily he was offered those thoughtless attentions. How
vulnerable it made him feel with his countenance fully exposed.
“Yes, I know,” Zato-1
said as he retrieved his hand. “You always do.”
Venom’s lips parted in
want of an appropriate response, but for another awkward moment he could find
none. Zato-1 was still…watching him, it seemed, though in truth there was
no telling. The air around them felt heavy and unreal. Venom’s body
moved without him. Spurred on by some strange, unwarranted confidence he
leaned closer. He felt Zato-1 shift, confused and uncertain by the sudden
proximity, and tasted a spill of warm breath across his lips. He touched
a stern cheek to guide Zato-1’s mouth to his.
The contact didn’t last
long enough to be called a kiss. The sensation of brushing lips was
covered swiftly by a firm hand against Venom’s shoulder, shoving him
back. Already lightheaded he stumbled on the uneven ground and almost
lost his balance—would have, if not for his instinctual grab for the window
sill. Stunned by his own actions and the response he had received for
them, he looked hesitantly to his master’s face.
Zato-1 snorted,
scraping the back of his palm ungracefully across his mouth. “That’s not
funny,” he chided with a scowl.
Venom felt his insides
grow cold, and before he could struggle towards an explanation the small room
was filled with the sound of low, deep laugher. A pair of gleaming
crimson eyes was watching him from the mix of shadows behind the still
disgruntled Zato-1. Venom straightened, and couldn’t help a shiver.
“You….”
“Charming,” the low
voice purred, its eyes flashing in the dark.
Without warning the
beast flew from hiding, leaving Venom no chance to avoid as night-black fangs
sank into the base of neck and shoulder. A pained cry welled in his
throat but wouldn’t sound; he only gasped, shivering at the first trails of
warm blood drawing a path over his chest. He looked desperately to his
master and found only a mass of shadow, swirling and indistinct. “Lord Zato—!”
Venom’s eyes snapped
open. His breath was coming in labored gasps, and the pain of teeth
searing his flesh sharpened abruptly into even greater potency. His arms
were slow to command but when they obeyed, it wasn’t cold, formless flesh his
hands tightened against—it was hair, and the coarse fabric of a man’s
collar. His voice finally leapt from him in a startled cry as he dug his
fingers into the jaws clamped about his throat. His attacker relented,
leaving him panting and nauseous on a flat, hard mattress.
“My apologies for
disturbing you,” the deep voice chuckled again, and this time recognition
struck him. “But you looked so beautiful, resting there.”
Venom pushed himself
onto his knees, pressing his hand tightly to the jagged wound in his
shoulder. His gaze swam a moment before rising to focus on his attacker’s
calm face. He choked on a curse. “Slayer…!”
The vampire licked his
lips daintily, though by now most of the blood had seeped into his beard.
“Venom,” he returned in greeting. He made a show of straightening his
coat and tie. “I just stopped by to check up on you—to see how my Guild
was faring—and you just happened to look…so delicious. I couldn’t help
myself.”
Venom scowled, his gaze
flicking across the room in search of his weapon—it was leaned against the wall
just behind Slayer, not where he’d left it. “This Guild is no longer
yours,” he hissed, though he didn’t yet try to move from his kneeling position
on the mattress. “Leave! Before I wake the rest and drive you out!”
Slayer chuckled and
shook his head. “You know better than I that there is no one,” he
drawled. “Your men have deserted you. Your Guild has perished.”
Venom’s pulse throbbed
in his temples and against his hand as he pushed to his feet. “Never,” he
growled. “As long as I breathe, I—”
“I created this little
club of yours,” Slayer interrupted smoothly, “and now I end it.” He
turned slightly towards the window. “The only reason I won’t kill you
along with it is because I know it’s what you’ve wanted all along.”
“You….” Venom’s eyes widened, and he clenched his fist tightly to hide the fact
that his hands were shaking. “How dare you.” In anger he leapt at
the creature. “Damn you!”
Slayer stepped neatly
to the side, twisting to plant his knee firmly in Venom’s gut. The impact
stole his breath and sent him reeling back onto the mattress. “You can
thank me later,” the vampire chuckled, turning away once more. Two
strides carried him to window, a short hop to its jagged sill.
“Wait—” Venom clawed his way back to his feet, ignoring the
refreshed flow of blood over his shoulder and chest. “Wait!”
“Good Evening,
Assassin.” With a wry smirk Slayer propelled himself from the window,
just before Venom reached him—his fingers brushed the edge of a coattail but
nothing more as the vampire sailed easily down the several stories to the
earth. Once there, he melted easily back into the shadows and rocks.
Venom leaned over the
window’s edge, desperately scanning the area below for any indication of his
fleeing enemy, but he saw nothing—no ripple of movement, no outline of a man’s
shape. He had gone.
Nearly a full minute
passed, and then, slowly, Venom lowered himself to his knees. A tiny
murmur of pain escaped him as he covered his wound again with his hand.
It was shallow and would soon stop, without threat to his life—as
promised. He sighed, low and deep. Slayer has spoken truthfully;
this twisted compound, though having always been shadowed and silent, in its
emptiness felt more desolate and cold than ever. The men had left one by
one despite his protests and threats, even when he had killed some as
examples. The rooms now stood as empty as his former master’s.
Venom closed his eyes,
pressing close against the cold stone wall beside him. “Zato….”
*~*~*
One Month Later
He waited for her in
the dark. He was old, and so he had the patience for it. It was a
trait he would have to instill in his progeny before long; the creature at his
side was tapping his long nails against the armrest of his chair in a way he
found vaguely irritating. Not that he was entirely unaccustomed to petty
nuisances.
“I thought she was
going to be here soon,” the creature grumbled.
“She’s on her way,” he
reminded him calmly, resting his elbows casually on his knees.
“She’s unreliable.”
He smiled thinly.
“She’s a woman. She’ll get here on her own time.”
The creature snorted,
though at least the tapping of his nails stopped when he crossed his
arms. “You spoil her.”
“And you have a lot to
learn.” The man lifted his head slightly, though the movement did nothing
to expose his face to the dull lights over him. “Here she comes.”
“Hmph. She’s not alone.”
“So it would seem….”
The sound of her boots
echoed throughout the chamber as she approached, and a moment later the woman
herself stepped into their small circle of pale light. She was wrapped in
tight red leather from head to toe, with tall boots that crawled up her thighs
and an oversized, pointed hat. “It’s not my fault,” she muttered through
a twisted scowl as she sauntered to her master’s side. “He followed me
home.”
Slayer was smirking
lightly as he, too, stepped out of the shadows. His hands were resting
lightly in his pockets, his manner pleasant. “And a charming home it is.”
The man straightened
subtly, and if his face showed surprise none of them could see it beneath the
veil covering it. “Nightwalker. It…has
been many years.”
“Too
many, old friend.”
He glanced from the man, to the woman at his left, and at last the creature
beside him. “I haven’t met your companion here.”
The creature, an
imposing figure at seven feet tall with a broad chest and toned limbs, regarded
their guest with mixed disdain and curiosity. “You’re a vampire.”
“You’re perceptive.”
“I’ll be more than
happy to introduce you properly,” the man interrupted, drawing both their
attentions back. “And welcome you with all the hospitality we can offer
here. But before then.” He leaned forward. “Why don’t you
start by telling us why you’re here.”
Slayer smiled
handsomely, which earned him a pointed glare from the woman. “It seems
I’ve been paying many different people visits lately,” he said easily. “I
thought I would extent the favor to my oldest acquaintances as well.” He
made a show of inspecting his fingernails. “And a
warning.”
The man frowned beneath
his veil; though he had never cared for Slayer’s dramatics, he did take his
advisement seriously. “I-no tells me you’ve busy with the Assassin’s
Guild lately. Might your warning have something to do with that?”
“Indirectly.” Slayer took a slow step forward; it
prompted a slight shift of weight from the creature, as if he were leaning
protectively toward his master. The vampire noted it, and continued
on. “You and I have been alive a long time. We can feel the rhythm
of this world—I know you’ve felt it. Something is going to happen.”
“Yes,” the man replied
carefully, drawing stares from his two companions. “I have felt
it.” His fingers curled. “Are you the cause?”
Slayer laughed at the
idea, shaking his head. “Me? You should know by now, I only help
things along.”
“So tell us already,”
I-no grumbled, setting a hand against her hip. “If you know what’s going
to happen, just spit it out.”
“Very
well.” Slayer
drew himself up, taking on a serious air that may or may not have been for
show. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. But with the Bureau
struggling, everything is going to change, and you and yours should be
ready.” His eyebrow lifted. “Especially for Ky Kiske.”
I-no straightened,
while the creature frowned subtly and their master interlocked his
fingers. “And why do you say that?” the later asked.
“His victory in
The creature snorted in
annoyance. “No human is a match for us,” he muttered.
The man, however, was
quiet a moment, considering those words with the thoughtfulness they
deserved. “You are that convinced of his abilities?” he asked evenly.
“If you’d seen him stab
Fredrick through the chest,” Slayer replied with a cool smirk, “you would be,
too.”
The implications of his
words were not lost on the three: the man’s servants exchanged meaningful
glances before turning inward, to their master. The man was silent for
some time, deep in thought. At last he pushed slowly to his feet.
“I see. I thank you, Nightwalker, for your information. I will
remember your warning.” He lifted a hand to his right. “You have
come a long way. Would you care for some wine?”
“I would indeed.”
Allowing their brief moment of seriousness to pass, Slayer moved gratefully to
his host’s side. “I knew I could count on you for a drink, if nothing
else, my friend.”
The pair moved off
together, their conversation tipping to lighter subjects as the shadows took
them.