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.
Sorry if it seems this fic is starting out slower than the last one…
Just have some setup to get through before the fun starts .
Thunder Falling
Chapter 1
Axl whistled appreciatively as he made his way
through the city on long strides. His gaze was continuously being drawn
left and right, captured by any number of startling attractions; shops blinking
with colorful lighted displays, restaurants and bars filled to capacity, and
everywhere he went citizens engaging in drunken celebration. He
understood none of their slurred, foreign speech, but he didn’t care—their
laughter was more than enough to convey their euphoria. He had to admit
that
At last he located the
object of his idle search—a faded wooden sign with blue lettering, pasted over
the door to another capacity-filled pub. “Ahh,
here we are.” He pushed his way inside, greeting men and women as he
passed with a cheery grin and offered hands. “Good to see you all
again—careful of the Vodka, it’s not quite good, is it? You’ll
regret it later, if you drink it. And Sasha,
don’t forget the separate bills.”
Axl seated himself at a far table; his
greetings had earned him quite a few curious stares and he waved in
return. Soon enough everyone had returned to their original
conversations. His waitress appeared, dressed in a rather skimpy blue and
white uniform to match the spirit of the holidays. “What’d you say
before, about bills?” she asked curiously as she took down his drink order.
“I’ve got friends
showing up later,” he explained, resting his chin in his palm as he took a good
look at her. “And no change. So make sure
you mark our drinks separately, okay?”
Sasha nodded and flashed him a coy smirk.
“Sure thing, handsome.” She turned toward the
next table, adding a bit of a sway to her walk he hadn’t noticed before.
Axl shook his head with a laugh and leaned
back in his chair. “Now, just to wait,” he said to himself as he checked
the time on the bar clock.
*~*~*
“Creatures of
Evil! Tonight,
the battle ends! Come to me, my loyal warriors!”
Ky Kiske sank a
little lower in his chair. He didn’t want to give an appearance of ill
attention, but his back and shoulders were already sore from the long events of
the day, and the strict postures he’d held for hours at a time before
now. The extra weight of his full uniform and mantle only compounded his
fatigue, as did the knowledge that he would not be allowed to rest for some
time yet.
“Oh,
no! Here comes
the beast itself! We are lost!”
Ky
drew his gaze back, just in time for the entrance of the four foot tall mass of
red and black paper maché, with a child’s booted feet
poking out of the bottom. It hobbled to the center of the stage and there
stopped, flocked on either side by half a dozen seven year old boys in
ill-fitting white and blue costumes. Each bore a long weapon that
appeared to have been constructed from cardboard. It was not a promising
sight.
“Give up, puny humans!”
came a man’s deep voice from backstage, though the hand-made Gear general waved
it’s arms to indicate it was supposed to be the one speaking. “You are no
match for the armies of Justice!”
Ky
smiled grimly. Though the recreation wasn’t the worst he’d seen, he had
no idea how it was that Justice had come to be remembered out of her true
colors. It might have been easier on people, not having to relate her to
the blue and white that now symbolized the former Holy Order. He was
almost grateful. Watching the ridiculous scene being played out before
him now, he could almost imagine that he hadn’t lived through it just seven
years ago.
“Your tyranny is about
to end!” declared one of the boys, the tallest of the group—with his blond hair
he really did look like a younger version of his namesake. “In the name
of the Holy Order, I challenge you!”
A vicious battle
ensued, which consisted of “Ky Kiske”
striking the mass of roughly constructed boxes and paint, while “Justice”
flailed, managing a few glancing blows to its attacker. In the process
one of Justice’s shoulder spikes snapped and was sent spinning into the
audience. At long last the creature was felled, dropping with a dull thunk to the stage.
Ky
smiled thinly. It hadn’t…quite happened that way.
The rest of the play
continued, with the coming together of the Holy Order to seal Justice, the
healing of Master Kliff, the announcement of the
war’s end…. By now Ky’s
imagination was beginning to wander. In his mind’s eye another of the ten
year olds came wandering out onto the stage, clad in pale jeans and red and
black vest, just in time to deliver the killing blow with another cardboard
tube. He blamed it on his restless, weary mind.
Ky
didn’t realize the production had come to an end until the audience was moved
to their feet; he quickly followed suit, offering his applause to the bowing
children. They were beaming with pride the way only young children
could. In the aftermath, Ky
was only vaguely aware of everything he did. He spoke to the young boys
and girls and congratulated them on their brilliant recreation, assuring them
of its accuracy—the young Captain Kiske, especially,
glowed with his compliments. There were the usual interviews and
photographs taken to commemorate the charitable event, talks with several
parents and school administrators, not to mention any number of country folk
who had come from miles around simply to see him. To
shake his hand, to touch his uniform. He indulged them all, save
the ambitious young teen who asked to try Thunderseal
for himself.
His night should have
ended then, but as soon as he left the school he was on his way to fulfill
another obligation. It would perhaps be the most unpleasant of his duties
to be completed this night. Seven years ago he had witnessed the defeat
of Justice. And every year since then, after the celebrations and parades
and offerings and drinks, he would find himself wearing down the late hours in
the home of some aristocrat enduring small talk and politics. It was what
his position demanded, and he had no right to complain. If he could smile
politely through a few glasses of wine and political commentaries, he would
then be safe to return to his home in peace.
*~*~*
This was, without a
doubt, the very last place on the Earth that Venom should have been venturing
into that night. Even the maze-alleys of
Several weeks had
passed, so that the pair of scars on the side of his throat had long since
healed over. He could only see them now in strong light and with full
attention. His search for the creature responsible had not gone nearly as
well; he had tracked Slayer to the Village of Assassins in England, where he
had be raised as a boy, only to find it abandoned and empty. The message
he had sent to their smaller base in
There was no point
searching for Slayer in this crowd; if the vampire wished to be discovered he
would, no matter what effort Venom dedicated to the venture. Weary from
his long travel he at last slipped into a bar in search of a warm drink to calm
him. It was just as crowded as anywhere else in the city, and he soon
discovered there were no empty tables for him. With a quiet sigh he
started to leave.
“Hey! Hey, over here!”
Venom didn’t glance
back, until a man at the bar tugged his sleeve and indicated a table near the
back of the bar. A blond man was there, dressed in a thick red overcoat
and cap, waving emphatically. “I think he means you,” the man muttered.
Venom frowned; he
didn’t recognize either man, and was wary for traps. He quickly
determined that even if the blonde were an officer of some kind, he wouldn’t be
willing to risk a fight in so crowded a room—he would easily be able to escape
should the need arise. Though still uncertain he made his way through the
groups of customers, coming to stand just next to the table. “Can I help
you?”
“You sure can,” the
blonde said with a bright grin. “Come have a drink with me, pal.
I’ve been waiting.”
“Waiting?” Venom
didn’t like the sound of that, and he remained on his feet. “I didn’t
even know I was coming in here.”
He waved a hand
carelessly. “Aw, don’t be like that. I know you don’t remember me
yet, but there’s no need to be so suspicious. This is a party.”
“Remember you…?”
Venom’s eyes narrowed, and though he should have simply turned to leave, he
couldn’t help but be curious. He wasn’t known for forgetting a
face. Slowly, he sank into a chair next to the stranger and set his
travel case at his feet. “And where might we have met before?”
“Right
here! But you’ll
understand in a second.” The blonde extended his hand, and for the moment
Venom wasn’t so paranoid that he wouldn’t shake it. “Name’s
Axl—Axl Low.
Good to see you again.”
Venom blinked in
surprise. “The Axl Low from the Tournament?” he
asked incredulously.
“Yeah, that’s
right. But let’s not talk about that.” Axl
waved his hand again. “You gonna tell me your
name, friend?”
Though he wasn’t
certain about the casual address, Venom at last decided there was no harm in
giving him that much. Even if a fighter from the Tournament was something
to be reckoned with…. “It’s Venom,” he said quietly, so that no one
around would hear. He was interested to see Axl’s
reaction—his own name should have been just as well known as Axl’s—but the man only smiled, as if he’d known all along.
“I know you’re
confused,” Axl said with a smirk. “But it’ll
make sense soon. You see….” He broke off suddenly, raising his gaze
to the door. His face lit with a grin. “ Ah.
There I am, now.”
Venom turned to look
for himself, and started at the sight of another blonde man in the same red
coat and cap just entering the bar. He looked just as startled to see the
first Axl as Venom was to see him. With
something of a shaky smile, he moved to join them at the table.
“Hey,
Axl,” the original blonde greeted, giving the
newcomer a hearty handshake. “Long time to see!”
“Seems so, Axl,” the other returned. “You’re looking good.”
Venom glanced between
the two men, wishing suddenly that he hadn’t come in here to begin with.
“Twins…?” he ventured.
“Not exactly,” the
first Axl chuckled, tugging his look-alike into the
chair next to him. “But I can explain.” His blue eyes glimmered
warmly in the dim bar lighting. “Have you ever heard of time travel?”
*~*~*
]The site of Ky’s
final activity for the night was a large, open apartment kept by a wealthy
Englishman in
But Ky was fortunate that evening, and just half an hour
into the gathering he managed to find a moment of peace for himself. He
didn’t go so far as to venture outside, as that might have been construed by
his host as anti-social, but he stood near the balcony doors to watch
Ky
sighed. Already exhausted as he was, his mind was prone to
drifting. He sipped gradually from his wine glass as the party continued
around him, just…allowing himself to remember. And though his
reminiscence at this time of year usually centered on the war, on memories of
struggle and blood, at the moment he found himself thinking only of the most
recent upheaval of his career. He had reflected on it often in the past
several months. Despite all that had happened, the startling array of new
experiences and the vividness of his memories, it all seemed far away
now.
Ky
closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath as he sometimes did when drawing
his memories back to him. When he was calm—and aided by the tingle of
wine he had been consuming all night—he could pull back to him the sensation of
warm, familiar magic flowing through him, made even more poignant by a fleeting
brush of fingers, a pair of lips….
“Officer Kiske?”
Ky
jumped, and just barely kept his wine from spilling as he turned to meet the
unexpected company. He didn’t recognize the man, presumably a businessman
or politician of some sort, but when his gaze fell to the boy at his side he
blinked in surprise. He looked to be in his mid teens, dressed handsomely
in a dark, three piece suit. His blond hair was
slicked back to expose the full features of his round face, and most noticeably
a pair of bright blue eyes. He was watching Ky with a mature curiosity.
“My apologies,” the man
was saying, drawing Ky’s
attention back. He extended his hand, which the officer quickly
shook. “We didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“It’s all right,” Ky assured, embarrassed over his
lapse. “Sir…?”
“Lonsdale,” he
introduced, and Ky stood a
little taller with recognition—he was speaking to one of the wealthiest men in
northern
“Likewise. My officers in
Richard Lonsdale set a
hand on the boy’s shoulder, his face full of pride. “My
son Brandon. He’s young, but he’ll be taking over for me before
long.” He grinned. “They grow up very quickly these days.”
Instead of offering his
hand,
Ky
shook himself slightly—he’d been staring. “My apologies,” he said
quickly. “You resemble an acquaintance of mine.” He smiled in
embarrassment. “Very much so, in fact.”
“Your
sister?” Ky frowned slightly in
confusion—Sir Lonsdale was shifting uncomfortably, looking as if he might
interject. “It’s possible, but….”
“Bridget Lonsdale,” the
boy elaborated, and Ky was
certain he couldn’t have looked more surprised. “She’s in something of an
interesting profession, so I’m sure you remember her.”
Stunned and baffled as
he was, Ky could only stare
as Sir Lonsdale took his son’s arm, giving him a firm look. “Officer Kiske is a very busy man,” he said with a nod of
acknowledgement to their company. “There’s no need to trouble him with
boasts of our family.”
Ky was about to inquire further—the Bridget
they were speaking of couldn’t possibly be the one he was acquainted with—but
just then one of the host’s hired staff members came up behind them, and
whispered something discreetly in Sir Lonsdale’s ear. The man paled a
little and quickly disengaged himself from the conversation. “I’m afraid
there’s something I need to see to,” he said with a short bow. “Forgive
me, Sir Kiske. But it was a pleasure to meet
you.”
“And you,” Ky returned in kind, entirely too
puzzled by everything taking place. “I hope your matters aren’t too
serious.”
“Thank you, for your
concern.” Lonsdale bowed once more and turned to go, sending his son a
sharp gaze in the process. But the boy only smiled back and made no
indication of moving; frowning, the man had no choice but to continue on
without him.
Once his father had
departed,
“Yes…yes, please.”
Ky
followed him out onto the balcony; it was cool outside, but draped in his thick
attire only his face was affected. He was glad for the breath of fresh
air, the exchange of boorish, idle chatter for the excited celebration of the
city folk below. Ky
turned anxiously to face the boy. “About Bridget….”
Ky
sighed deeply, relieved that he hadn’t quite lost his mind. But the
implication of
“Yes—I received a
letter from him just last month.”
Ky
smiled; at least it sounded like Bridget was doing all right. He wanted
to ask if Bridget had perhaps mentioned another, but he held back.
“Then…why were you calling him your ‘sister’ just now?”
“It’s something of a
long story,”
Ky
frowned; he had heard of such superstitions in his travels, but he hadn’t
managed to catch on yet as to what
“And so our parents raised
Bridget as a girl,”
“I see….” Now
that he thought about it, Ky
did remember that much about the Lonsdale family. It had never occurred
to him during his time with Bridget to ask about his family, his home…. A
lot of things suddenly made more sense, and he was a little ashamed that he had
never thought to inquire sooner. “That must have been very difficult for
him.”
“Yes…more than he lets
on.”
Ky
wasn’t so sure about that—it seemed that something like this he should have
heard from Bridget himself—but he nodded anyway. When he saw Bridget
next…. He shifted slightly. “He…is doing well, then?” he asked
carefully. “I have not heard from him since we parted in
Ky
straightened a little at that, his mind beginning to spin. If Testament
and Bridget were still together, there was no need to worry. That,
however, did not stop his curiosity from blossoming. If not for the
horrible breach of propriety it would be he would have asked to see Bridget’s
letter, just to assure himself, to hear of what he was
doing. Maybe he would even be able to draw some clues as to his travel
companion that
A figure dashed
abruptly through the balcony doors, and Ky
nearly reached for his sword as
The pair hushed, and
when the newcomer turned there was no mistaking the wide, vibrant eyes that
were fixed on him. Bridget’s already excited expression brightened, and
he looked ready to pounce again when he suddenly stopped himself. He
ducked his head. “Hey,
Though for a moment Ky was puzzled by his unusually
quiet demeanor, the reason for it became clear enough when he took a good look
at him. Bridget was clothed in a dress traditional for the season, with a
long skirt of light fabric and a long, pale blue and white veil trailing down
his bare shoulders and back. There was even a small bow set into the lace
at the skirt’s hem. If Ky
hadn’t known better, he would have sworn he was looking at a girl. He’d
always known Bridget to be of a slight stature, but seeing that slender figure
clad in silk and lace made the image almost flawless.
Bridget bit his lip,
and Ky shook himself—his
inattention was getting him into trouble today. Not wanting Bridget to
think that the outfit was bothering him he spread his arms slightly, parting
his thick mantle. “Is that how you greet an old friend?” he asked with a
soft smile.
Bridget’s head snapped
up, his shoulders hunching a little as he watched Ky’s sincere expression. He managed a shaky
smile of his own and leapt suddenly at the officer. “I missed you!” he
declared, wrapping his arms around Ky’s
waist tight enough to make him grunt softly. “I’m sorry—I had to wear it,
or I knew Father wouldn’t let me in, and—”
“It’s all right,” Ky assured, his smile deepening as
he returned the embrace. His chest warmed with elation, and he
chuckled. “You’ve grown,” he observed, setting a hand on Bridget’s
head. “It’s only been three months, hasn’t it? And you’re—”
“Three centimeters
taller,” Bridget confirmed proudly, standing up on his toes to make it appear
even more impressive. His blush was visible even in the dark.
“Testament says my voice is probably going to change soon—won’t that be funny!”
Ky
felt something in him tighten at the mention of Testament’s name—it was the
first time he’d heard it spoken in months. He managed to keep his smile
from faltering. “That is exciting.” He touched Bridget’s arm.
“Looks like you’ve been working out, too.” The muscle beneath his fingers
definitely seemed to be better toned than he remembered.
Bridget bounced
happily, as if about to burst. “You can tell? Really, you can
tell?”
“Yes, of course.” Ky held him at arm’s length to get
a good look at him, for Bridget’s sake. “Has Testament been helping
you? It looks like you’ve been working hard.”
“I really have!
Testament’s tough, but I’ve really been….” He trailed off, glancing
behind him as if noticing his brother for the first time. “Oh, yeah. Ky,
this is my brother—Brandon.”
Ky
chuckled. “We’ve met,” he assured, letting his hands fall from Bridget’s
arms. “I hear you’ve been spreading rumors about me…?”
Bridget made an embarrassed face, blushing darker. “It’s all true,” he
protested, hopping lightly to Brandon’s side. He hooked his arm in
his. “Wasn’t it, Brandon? Isn’t he just like I told you?”
“He certainly is,”
Brandon agreed exaggeratedly. “And then some.”
Ky
wasn’t sure exactly what they were talking about, and though that concerned him
a bit he didn’t question them. But he felt as if his fingers were
itching, and he had to ask. “Bridget, you came for the festival, didn’t
you? Did you…come alone?”
Bridget’s gaze thinned
slightly as he smiled. “Well…” he teased, shifted back and forth on his
feet. “Not really….”
Ky
sighed, though his mouth was dry and his insides tight. Bridget was
teasing him, which meant…. “Not really?” he echoed, trying to keep the
eagerness from his voice.
“I gotta
go back in,” Bridget declared. “You, too, Brandon.
Father wants you to leave the important man alone.” He gave his brother’s
arm a squeeze and then hopped over to Ky,
rising up on his toes to offer a kiss on the cheek. While they were still
close he whispered, “He’s here. He’s just lying low.”
Ky’s
heart jumped a little, and then Bridget was pulling away, allowing his brother
to escort him off the balcony. The officer followed a step after
them. “Wait, what about—”
“I’ll come see you in
the morning,” Bridget said over his shoulder with a wink. “You’re off
duty on the third, right? We’ll have breakfast.”
“It was good to meet
you,” Brandon added.
“But—”
“Seeya!” Before Ky
could ask any more questions Bridget laughed and dragged his brother back
towards the rest of the party, into the folds of people once more.
Ky
released a heavy breath and turned back to the balcony rail. As he
watched the city continue its merriment, he couldn’t help a tiny, boyish
smile. “So…he is here.” He downed the rest of his wine in one
breath.