Guilty Gear

stories

• steadfast tin soldier
• the day on fire
• chrysalis

 

Chrysalis

=======================

It was a bad enough day, Sol reflected, to wake up with an enemy sitting at the foot of his bed. A worse day, when he’d stripped down to the skin before falling face-first into oblivion. He raised his head enough to glare at Testament, watching for the tell-tale shift, the slightest sign of an attack he would have mere seconds to block, though it wasn’t like the son of a bitch even needed to breathe.

Testament stared back, and when it seemed obvious he’d be spared a direct assault at such an indecent time, Sol rolled over for a few more hours, secure in the fact that no one else was going to get past the other Gear to reach him.

As far as he could tell, Testament never moved. Still in the same place when Sol woke up, watching him as he grumbled, dragged himself up into a decent attempt at sitting upright, automatically reaching for his headband. The first hundred years or so, he’d been so careful never to take the damn thing off – but it just wasn’t that comfortable, and what it concealed was certainly no revelation to the creature still watching him.

“There’s a better show for a few bucks, just down the street. Cheap bastard.”

Testament only blinked, as if he’d said nothing at all, and Sol grumbled, pulling the sheet to keep it from tumbling down as he leaned over to reach for his pants. “The hell do you want, anyway?”

“He has been taken.”

Sol swore explosively, instantly regretting the time he’d spent asleep, half wanting to set the Gear on fire for allowing him to do so. He didn’t need to ask who, or why. He’d left Ky on his own nearly a week ago, following a lead that Sol thought was safer. Easier than the more dangerous mission he’d undertaken – though that had lead to several dead bodies and an even more pronouncedly dead end. They’d been set to meet up, two days from now, and Sol had been feeling confident enough that he’d thought of blowing the kid off for another day, mostly to watch Ky’s hackles rise when he slowly strolled into view.

“Damn fool boy,” Sol spat, though he was really only cursing himself. Stupid to ever think he could let Ky out of his sight, for not realizing that the most dangerous mission would be whatever one the Holy Knight was on. Still thinking as if he were the primary target when it was obvious, damn obvious even if they didn’t talk about it, that Ky had long since caught someone’s eye.

Sol dressed so fast he came very close to shredding the cloth, his mind running quickly through all the possibilities he never would have told the boy, reasons for his capture. Ky was necessary, to improve upon their design, their war machine, or for information he might have - /hell/, information on /Sol/, for all he knew.

Whatever it was, they would certainly get it, they had every method in their reach and knew how to ‘ask’ – detain him for questioning, which meant threats and drugs and absolutely torture.

//The kid’s pious enough, it’ll be like a holiday.//

The joke cut deep, so staggeringly not funny it nearly took his breath away. Ky had been so afraid of this, and Sol had been right there beside him, confident and ready and all but assuring him nothing could happen – it was a lie, and a part of him had known it was a lie, and yet he’d let Ky believe it. Let the kid hold on to false confidence when he had every possible goddamn reason to be afraid.

Sol was so deep in thought and planning and mostly wanting to kick himself in the head, that when Testament finally shifted off his perch he startled, forgetting he’d been there at all.

“What the hell are you doing here, anyway?” Sol growled, stretching, reaching for the Fuenken. Already anticipating the sound it would make, sliding through government thugs who had never been told about the power of the sword, no idea of the sound or the smell –

Testament raised an eyebrow.

“Not to be ungrateful.” Sol amended, though really he just didn’t want to have this fight now, only to turn around and take on the military as well. “I thought you only gave a damn for Gears.”

“I do.”

Sol blinked, the meaning instantly understood, and had a half-second to be impressed with himself, before the full truth of it fell on him. A blow that shook him so hard he thought he could feel the ground tremble beneath his feet. The tin soldiers, the robots were perfectly fine for their function, they didn’t need to be more like Ky.

Ky didn’t need to be like Ky, not anymore.

“Oh... fuck, no. God... fuck, /no/.”

------------------------------------------------

It was hell. War was always hell, but the scenery and the symbolism could always change and alter and find new weaknesses. Send him to his knees, just when he least expected it, and that was what made every moment a new kind of damnation.

Flames were licking out of the broken windows, so much heat and smoke the stained glass had been leached of color, the same shade as the bricks, painted all but black with years of constant battle and near destruction. Making it this far only to burn now, surviving countless attacks only to fall at the end – along with everyone inside.

Screaming, he had heard screaming, but for the life of him Ky could not remember if it came from inside this cathedral, or another exactly like this one, or somewhere else in the burning streets. A desperate attempt at salvation, another defense that did not hold. Ky looked up, ready to rally the troops to the entrance – but there were no troops, no one at all, only wisps of blood-soaked white and blue visible where the smoke cleared. Any other sounds came from the enemy, rising up like an inivsible tide, snarls and inhuman screams glancing off brick and stone.

Ky staggered, falling against the side of the building. Coughed against the smothering smoke, willing the Furaiken to a duller glow, though going unnoticed seemed to be impossible at this point. He could hear the moans of the dying, intermingled with the Gears’ roars of triumph – and as he slid across the wall, forcing himself to stay upright, another sound rising through the broken windows. A song.

//I don’t want to see this.//

Childrens’ voices, caroling as brightly as if it were Christmas Day, hymnals that his lips could follow even though his voice had cracked, shattered to powder and blown away. Ashes, ashes, all fall down.

//I don’t want...//

It was all he could do to clutch the sword, the Furaiken dragging against the stones, and though Ky did not want to move forward, did not want to go, he was stumbling up the stairs anyway. Only to cry out, at the blow that struck him down, a heavy weight piercing deep – but when he whirled, drew the sword in a wild arc there was no enemy. Nothing but the smoke and the voices still singing out, louder by the moment even though the doors to the church were closed.

He wouldn’t let himself remember the words.

//God, give us the strength to face death bravely, if that is what you will ask of us. Bless us, protect us.//

Save the souls of all those who would surely die, before this battle was over. A second blow from those invisible claws, raking him so deep they must have gone right through the other side. He wasn’t going to survive this.

A war they were not meant to win. Ky had understood that from the beginning, every sleepless night he’d spent poring over maps, every hour he’d spent training his body to withstand the endless fight. It was by God’s grace that they would win this, or nothing at all. Terrifying, then, to fall to his knees before the burning monument of his faith, to know what was waiting behind the doors. All those who were innocent, helpless, waiting and believing and hoping, hoping –

Hope.

//This is what you are. This is all you are.//

He was in agony, felt the tears against his cheeks like drops of molten metal, searing to the bone. No. No, there had to be a way. No matter what, no matter if it meant his death, he would find victory. If he did not fail God, God would not turn his gaze away. God did not abandon the sick, the weak, the helpless – but the singing was no longer singing, it was screaming, rising higher and higher as the flames burned brighter. Ky tried to look away, but he could still see it all, still see everything as the cathedral doors slowly opened, the light ripping through him, down to the bone -

He blinked, rolled his eyes wildly as he realized the rest of his body was pinned, that somehow he’d been thrown to the ground. No church, no fire save for what was inside his own skin, and he opened his mouth to speak but what emerged was a strangled gargle around a breathing tube that stabbed at his throat. Voices rising and falling around him, the world a spinning chaos of white light and white walls and white coats.

“BP stable... pulse is rapid...”

“... appears to be fighting the sedation. Should we raise to...”

Plastic, glass and metal, and he knew at once where he was, what had happened, the fever dream giving way. No divine punishment, this. Ky felt a surge of something insanely close to victory, given his condition. He knew the measurements of this damnation.

A mistake – this was their only mistake so far, but the only one he needed. Ky /remembered/, dug his fingers in, lashed himself to that knowledge and held on.

They’d taken him in the night, there had been no warning, only the slight spike of instinct, to realize the sudden still was wrong – and he’d heard the silenced gun go off, felt the prick of the needle and knew what had happened. What would happen, as his hand slid away from the hilt of the Furaiken and he fell, the world gone black well before he hit the ground.

Without this moment of clarity, Ky might not even have remembered that – that there was a ‘him’ to remember, a time or a place before the madness he had been sunk into. He still faced an ending here, in this place where every breath burned and stank of acid. Even now he could feel the pins in him, the needles pumping rivers of both fire and ice into his veins. Whatever they had wanted him for, they were not wasting their time.

Lightning. He was lightning. As powerful as it was intangible – they would not have him, not ever.

//Sol.// The other man would be angry, disappointed, surely, at how easily Ky had allowed himself to be captured. A bastard to the core – but not without his reasons, fighting against this for longer than anyone else. Ky clutched at the memory of him, held it fast - Sol’s sense of freedom, of blindly determined rebellion; independence, as an end unto itself.

A rush of cold in his veins, and he was under again, and lost, the world spinning away. Voices of soldiers long dead, battles from the earliest days of the Crusades – screams and pleas of the innocent, and he had no consolations. No words, except that God was watching and God would bring them home. The less esoteric – perhaps less meaningful – consolation: he was still fighting. Ky would never, ever stop fighting in their name.

//... because there will always be a battle, won’t there? Peace only makes it easier, for the evil that remains.//

An eternity of drowning, then - his head held under, just beneath the surface, until finally Ky was able to kick up, to breathe again, gasping and shuddering, muscles trembling against the burn of exertion and the never-ending chill. Whatever he lay on was freezing, the light too bright, but even with his body convulsing and his eyes refusing to focus on light or shadow... it was solid somehow, this place. Real, and knowing that cut like a knife through the layers of confusion that had spun around his mind, nearly suffocated him.

“Remarkably strong... didn’t think...”

“... already raised.... dangerous.... few signs of instability.”

Demons, or close enough that he might as well be poetic. Flaying him open, thumbing through his entrails with detached disinterest. Strangely, it steadied him - just recognizing the threat, even with how strong it seemed and how weak he was, even with no chance to win. It was almost easier, knowing this was the end. If he knew there was no chance at success, or even survival, he could focus all his flagging energies on not letting them win, on not letting them break his will before he died. Little doubt that was what they wanted – it was what all the demons, all his doubts and fears had ever wanted, ever since the Crusades. Test him in fire and pain, to find his weakness and watch him break. Above all else, he could not give it to them, no matter what the cost.

“... look there. Astonishing.”

A spasm ripped through him, tearing sinew and rending flesh, though they had yet to ask a single question of him – that would come later. He knew enough about torture, even though there had been no reason, no logic to torturing any of the mindless Gears they happened to find alive. Of course it had still been done, nothing official, soldiers gleefully working out their frustrations on the half-dead monsters. Ky had stopped it when he could, and quite a few of them had hated him for it, never understanding what he was trying to save them from. Kiske, the high commander, who didn’t understand what it meant to be a grunt, even from the front lines. Didn’t understand that he was trying to keep them from becoming worse than the beasts they fought.

... and they died anyway, by the thousands, no matter what he tried to teach them, or how often he bled. No matter what he wanted or fought for, he was only one man and the church doors always swung wide open.

Ky twisted, let out a thin groaning whine – it didn’t sound like him, his whole body felt numb, distant and too large, too heavy – what the hell were they doing to him? Why didn’t they just let him die? He thrashed, or tried to, well aware it wasn’t having any kind of impact, holding on with everything he had to all he could remember. Determination, and the cross. His Commander, the Furaiken, his duty and purpose – and Sol, an ally despite both their better judgment, and the fierce pride there, that would not bow, not ever.

“I’d almost think he was fighting back.”

Pain, deep and inescapable, piercing right through to the center of his mind and for a moment even his resolve faded away with the agony. The void was rising up around him once more, closing in, dragging him down even as he struggled to stay above. Gasping for air, fighting a body that belonged to them now.

“It doesn’t matter.”

It didn’t matter, not when God was with him. It had never mattered. No matter how futile or painful his fate, it was just a passing shadow against the glory of that final salvation. Of no great circumstance, not the pain and not the void and not the desperate, tearing sensation that had to be the whole of him ripping to pieces. An unflagging servant of the Lord, faith was his sword and his shield and nothing, nothing could stand against that. Hope was everlasting – even if he fell, he could not fail.

Ky shut his eyes, and let oblivion come, and he was not afraid.

--------------------------------------

“You there! St-”

The soldier never had the chance to finish the order, let alone scream, tumbling in two distinct, nearly equal pieces to the ground – just a boy, though Sol had come to think of most of them that way. He was in no charitable mood to bother with pensive thoughts, though, to spare even a second’s notice to eyes that still seemed too startled to let go, looking up in blank confusion right until the moment he died.

A part of him was contented, well satisfied with the blood on his sword and his hands. The part of him that Sol rarely let lead, too eager for carnage and too disinterested in any kind of cage – but he needed it now. The strength and focus and bloodlust of the Gear, if just to dilute the raw fear and dread that was at the heart of this charge. He was too late to save Ky, he had to have been, and even still there was nothing to do but attack. Charge and claw and rip his way through the enemy – these bastards deserved it. Deserved all that he’d held back for so long.

“Kill them. All of them.”

A redundant precaution, just in case Testament thought he wanted more tactics than vengeance – though Sol was happy to argue for attrition as a tactic all its own. The alarms were bleating, had been before they’d blasted through the front doors, but Sol didn’t pay attention. Doubtful there’d been an attack on one of these compounds in over a decade, which meant help would be slow to arrive and those on patrol would have no idea what they were facing.

It was very hard to stop a Gear that knew what it wanted.

Sol wondered briefly if Testament followed all his former orders with such zeal – the hallway was already painted crimson, floor to ceiling, and he met every new wave of soldiers with the same silent ending. His scythe was a blur in the air, magic tearing through the ranks so quickly there didn’t even seem to be a form to it, just death. Sol remembered when they’d discovered that power - the very first shock and amazement and near-religious awe. How quickly any such feelings had faded, amazement giving way to pragmatism and greed, turning even the most fantastic discover into just another type of power, a tool.

He turned, at a mechanical whir and the sound of bullets being automatically chambered – a mechanized second defense line, taking up most of the hallway, and somehow they thought that this would be enough to keep him from what he wanted. Sometimes, a tool was not such a bad thing – Sol thought, as he blocked a round of bullets with the flat of his blade and returned with a wave of fire that seared every inch of the chips and wires into useless scrap. Sent the now useless, half-melted metal boulders screeching back across the floor - into the next mass of troops preparing to attack. Screams rising as molten metal slammed into unprepared bodies.

Sol strode forward, barely paying attention to the chaos around him. Blocking bullets and returning fire with a searing heat that did not give his enemies time to scream, cutting through anything that dared venture within a swords’ length.

“Emergency. I repeat, emergency. Two rogue Gears have infiltrated the facility. Please respond, please-”

One panicked man in a lab coat at a raised bank of computers, screaming instructions into a microphone, tapping frantically, staring at a screen that gave a very nice heat-array of Testament annihilating yet another platoon. Sol leapt up onto the main dais and lunged forward, slamming the man’s head through the screen before he could even turn - which – in retrospect – was not the brightest move he could have made. A necessary sacrifice of logic, however, for letting the Gear lead, and that part of him was damn near singing in satisfaction now, enjoying the blood in the air. He could just hold on to enough control to remember his objective - //Ky. Find Ky.//

Surprisingly, there was no objection from that other half – he’d fought side-by-side with Ky, the knight was part of his pack, /his/ – the Gear understood that, and it was wrong for him to be here. For anyone to be here, where everything stank of metal, chemicals and death. Sol quickly skimmed the banks of cameras, watching Testament cut a bloody swath across several screens, more than one lens liberally spattered with blood. He growled at the thought, knowing there were screams on those silent screens, checked himself and that ever-growing bloodlust.

//Wait. You’ll have your fun.//

Banks of screens, cameras on every room of the compound, labeled by floor – a great number of men with guns, at the end of the C’s – and no D wing at all, moving directly from C to F. Sol grinned, and fired up the Fuenken. Governments had such a habit of doing things poorly, sloppily, and yet still expecting nothing to ever go wrong.

----------------------------

It was an easy drop down the elevator shaft, boots slamming hard against the top of the car, shaking it as it rose. Sol cut through the cables well before any of the guards had the sense to shoot up, and it didn’t take all that much heat, to melt through the emergency brakes. He grinned, listening to the car drop even as he was thrown upward by the counterweight, swinging forward only to kick back, pushing himself against the opposite wall. More than enough momentum, that when he blew the doors off on the unlabeled floor ‘D’, he was in the middle of the fray before any of them had realized what had happened. All carrying guns, prepared for a frontal surprise attack, they had nothing ready for closer combat. Sol took down only a handful more than those that managed to shoot each other in their panic.

A hiss in the air, gas – sedative, or perhaps poison, quickly dropping any soldier who wasn’t already dead. Doing his work for him. A second volley of fire easily tore through the door at the other end of the hall, and he was clear of it, ripping through clean-room doors with a few determined swipes, until Sol found himself in a room that was terribly familiar, the memories that attacked him the first to actually strike a blow.

Metal clamps of all sizes hooked to long robotic arms, glass bays along one wall, filled with things that may have once been human or animal, but were now little more than clumps of cells. The Gear in him snarled, hackles raised – too many old days remembered, few of them good, though it was Ky’s scent in the air that pushed him right to the edge. It had changed, not just the chemicals masking what he should have recognized – something was terribly wrong.

The partition in front of him slid back, a small group of scientists clustered around another misshapen corpse on the table – this one had wings, stretched out and pinned across a second table, nearly as wide as the first was long, nearly a misshapen cross. For a moment, it was almost comical, the entire room frozen, the scientists like birds, familiar enough with cats, now finding themselves face-to-face with a lion.

“Wait. You can’t–”

The first scientist lunged forward stupidly, throwing his hands up only to lose them at mid-elbow, the wounds sizzling, instantly cauterized. He didn’t have a chance to do more than gasp before his head followed his hands. No real room for the others to scatter, and Sol did not allow them the chance, throwing one into the wall of tanks hard enough to make the shatterproof glass splinter, leaking fluid everywhere. Throwing his sword down hard into the floor ignited an arc of fire that caught two more mid-run, bodies blackened and spitting ash well before they hit the ground. The last one running managed to hit the emergency button, setting off alarms that had already been raised, closing the heavy outer doors – and Sol saw the realization hit him, moments too late, that sealing himself in with the rampaging monster hadn’t quite been what he’d meant to do. At least he only had a second to regret it.

Sol froze in the quiet that followed, heard stilted breathing, stumbling footsteps – he’d missed one, or only /mostly/ killed him, blood splashing over the floor with every staggering step. A pitiable sight – if this man hadn’t been responsible for so much needless suffering, likely one of those who’d looked at Ky as nothing but opportunity – not afraid, not invaluable, not a human being. Sol enjoyed the sound the Fuenken made, sizzling through the air, slamming through the scientist’s back, pinning him to the wall. Sol glanced back and forth in the silence, half-wanting more enemies – this was only a taste, hardly satisfying. It had been a long damn time since he’d truly been sated.

//Later, damn you. We have work to do.//

He ignored his sword for a moment, focusing on the scent of Ky – had he been in this room recently? Was he still in the complex? His hip banged hard against the table the scientists had been so eagerly clustered around. Sol glanced down at the body, looked away – and the realization hit him then, a shock so hard he managed to shove the table a few inches off its base, metal screeching painfully across the floor.

All he could hear was his own heartbeat, thudding too loud in his ears. He’d stopped breathing. Sol thought he might not bother to start again, not if it meant having to taste the air, taste the change.

//I never thought it would come to this. I never did.//

The other him, speaking so quietly, just as unknown and unfamiliar as the Gear, in his own way.

He might not have believed it, wouldn’t have /let/ himself believe, if the creature didn’t smell like Ky. Kiske was there, buried beneath the scent of so many different drugs – what it took, to keep a human body from rejecting the process, before it could fully take hold. He remembered the corpses, human and animal, piled together in the very beginning, when they were just starting to make progress.

//Right about the time you realized things were much worse than you’d ever thought possible.//

The Gear was gone – he wasn’t even Sol anymore, not in this moment, not at all a warrior, the fighter who had seen and done enough for a thousand lifetimes. What was left? Who remained?

//I never wanted to hurt anyone. I really didn’t.//

God, but he had lived so long.

Sol swallowed hard, reached out – the kid was alive, they had been monitoring it closely enough. All the machines still beeping quietly away, keeping track of the changes, the chemicals being pumped into the blood – he knew them by scent more than by name, these days. He didn’t touch, couldn’t bring himself to do it. Fingers flexing in midair, as if he could somehow take away what had been done, change anything.

He’d lost his choice, ages ago. He’d deliberated so long and so hard, knew he’d understood it then – but even remembering that, it seemed a terrible, slapdash decision now.

Many of the early Gears had been almost entirely animal, with attempts to enhance the intellect while keeping the keen eyes and fangs – and unquestioning, mindless loyalty - that were a benefit in battle. Subsequent generations, improvements in the technology and the study led to an approach from the opposite side – human subjects, merged with more beastlike traits. Less strict adherence to the physical animal – no longer a matter of fur and claws as raw strength, honed instincts, the intelligence of a man, but blunted beyond matters of morality. No questions, no hesitation. The idea that they’d ever been trying to improve upon humanity, to create something better in any altruistic sense – he hadn’t heard that lie trotted out until half the world was already under siege.

Of course, it hadn’t worked like any of them had wanted, even if it seemed all too obvious now – Justice was a fine example of what a myopic viewpoint and a few billion dollars could pull together. The Gear rebellion, the Crusades, his imprisonment – none of it had stopped them. The science, the skill had continued to improve, and the Gears had become more and more a work of art, more creatures of fantasy than reality. Trying to find the beast to match Justice, to improve upon that design – and god, how many of them had even been /pleased/ by the monster’s ‘progress,’ watching him mow down armies with the eager eye of a fond parent, proud of their creation.

“Look at this, kid. Just look at you.”

Ky was still beautiful, there was nothing on earth that could change that, still noble and proud, even if it was no longer quite human. They’d tipped his ears back, drew them up into long, blunted points – he’d seen it before, in Dizzy. Part of their new style of bio-armor, playing with the skin’s plasticity and density. He didn’t have to touch, still /couldn’t/ touch, but knew Ky could likely withstand a fairly decent explosion now and never feel a thing.

Dragon – from the wings alone he could see that inspiration, hands and feet twisted and broken, tapered into dark claws, even a long tail, now laying lax against the table. Pale, bone-white except for a few splashes of color, spots dappling the skin. Patterns on the wings as well, he assumed – but why the hell would they bother? Why try to make it beautiful? Fucking sadists. Fucking monsters. At least the Gears were only what they had been created to be.

The mark – god he knew how Ky loathed it, a sign of everything he fought against, everything he hated - burned now, against his hip, a blazing blue. Property, he was corporate property now, and Sol regretted there weren’t a million more of these bastards to kill.

They’d taken their best fighter, the very savior of humanity, and broken him. Thrown him back into the fire and reforged him, thinking of stronger and better without any hesitation – there was no right or wrong in their world. The question now, was whether they had made a more powerful weapon, or something so brittle it would shatter with the slightest blow – not a matter of physical strength, but of the psyche. Could Ky even shift back?

//It would destroy him, to be like this forever.//

Impossible, that they would leave him this – shifting was an old trick, they’d had it in some form from the very start - but Sol felt cold anyway. No reason to think they’d felt any need to salvage anything of the old Ky Kiske, not with all their new, shiny toys, a million different ways to break a person. Whatever they’d wanted him for, it would have been useless if he couldn’t at least resemble a human, some of the time. They wouldn’t have been so careful to hide the mark, otherwise.

Sol checked himself quickly – Ky still was human, or at least he had to convince the kid of that. Start throwing around too much too soon, try forcing a new life on him all at once, and Sol would lose him for sure.

//If you have him at all – they would have broken his mind, wouldn’t they? Well before they bothered with the body.//

He still hadn’t touched, hadn’t even reached out again, staring at the monitors, hesitating – but they’d finished with him, every reading seemed to agree he was stable – at least by their definition.

“It would be preferable to hurry.”

Testament’s voice was toneless, disinterested despite the words, blood dripping off his scythe freely, spattering the floor. He gazed down at Ky for a long moment, whatever opinion he might have had hidden behind bored red eyes.

“I know what I’m doing.” Sol growled, stepping back. “Get his sword, and get the restraints off him. Be careful.”

“They are coming.” Testament’s eyes narrowed slightly, looking to the door, though Sol knew he was hearing reinforcements still twenty or thirty floors away. Of course, the Gear would have little compunction fighting their way through whatever came, but this was no longer a matter of slaughter, or revenge, no matter how much his blood sang to join in.

Sol snarled, stalking to the wall, one sweep of his hand tearing the door right off the massive fridge, a few vials smashed across the floor, more following as he swept the first few rows aside – what he wanted, they would keep in the very back, and his fingers moved adeptly through the vials and serums, quickly searching.

//Just like riding a bike.//

His eyes flicked past names, catching the newest versions of old friends, drugs he’d used himself once upon a time, in labs like this. He didn’t let himself think about it, drawing the needle-tipped vials out one after another, listening to Testament quickly remove the restraints. The last thing he took was a slightly larger dose than the rest – all-purpose tranquilizer, to keep Ky from waking up until the rest of it could – hopefully – do its work. The last thing he needed was to have the knight wake up here – where he couldn’t even be sure who or what he was dealing with.

//Too late.//

Sol turned on his heel, only to stare into pale blue eyes that damn near burned, the pupils slitted and catlike, unreadable. One more reminder he didn’t need, that they were probably far too late. He took a slow, cautious step forward, and another when Ky allowed the first. Testament had stepped back, out of sight at the first sign of movement, and Sol only hoped Ky remembered him as a friend – well, less of an enemy than those who had brought him here. He refused to acknowledge the part of him that had its hackles raised, telling him that going down to one knee, putting himself below such a dangerous Gear was an unforgivable act of submission.

“It’s me, kid. Just me. It’s going to be all right.” It was much easier to lie in a whisper. “Let me help you, and we’ll get you out of here. I promise.”

A soft, growling sigh was his only answer, and Sol didn’t move, didn’t breathe, watching the blue eyes flutter closed. He would have liked to wait, to make sure Ky was asleep but they were out of time the moment they’d ripped through the front door.

Five needles, administered with all the steadiness of a lifetime spent in a laboratory, sliding one right after the other into the unnaturally pale skin, nothing like Ky’s natural shade, nothing human. Sol’s eyes flicked again and again to the claws, even though he knew it would take time – at least a few moments, for any kind of reaction - //let it work, let it work// - or Ky was gone forever, and he did not need that on his conscience.

He was holding his breath, waiting – and since Testament didn’t breathe, there was no sound at all in the room, not until Ky gasped sharply, body twisting. Sol watched the claws slowly start to recede, bones shifting, collapsing into the dimension of more human hands, even the terrible pallor of his skin taking on a bit more life.

“We’re moving. Now.” He snarled, lifting Ky into his arms, trying not to injure the wings that were already shifting, muscles and bones in the knight’s back twisting and shifting to accommodate them. Now that he could spare the attention, it was easy for Sol to hear the pounding footsteps – maybe twenty floors above, and moving fast, gun oil and the stink of sweat and Kevlar and steel.

Testament moved, sword in one hand and scythe in the other, toward the path of broken doors and claw-marked walls Sol had left behind. “No.” Sol called. He couldn’t, wouldn’t risk it, not now. “We make our own exit, out the back.”

Testament raised an eyebrow, surprise or criticism, Sol didn’t care, already moving in the opposite direction. Ky was struggling in his arms, no longer conscious, but his muscles spasming, contracting – shifting themselves back into a human guise, even the wings rippling and bending in on themselves. Absorbed into his back, folding up against the spine, and god, god would it hurt. Eventually, he would learn how to transform at will, without causing himself pain – at least, Sol could hope for it. Ky was changing back, he /could/ change back, and for the moment that would have to be his victory.

He caught the scent, just as he was about to step out the door. Familiar enough to make him snarl, ignoring the strange glance from Testament – the other Gear couldn’t sense it? How? Why? Didn’t matter, and as much as he hated to admit it, it was a relief that there was no challenge, that for whatever reason, they would be allowed to leave.

Sol growled low in his throat anyway, shifted his arms just enough to free his right hand for a moment, throwing a middle finger defiantly toward the panes of one-way glass along the upper edge of the wall, before stalking out of the lab.

In the darkened observation room behind the mirrors, a lone figure grinned back, one hand slinging the neck of her guitar over her shoulder as she disappeared, silently as she had come.

-------------------------

It was still, and silent for a very long time. Occasionally, Ky could hear a quiet sound, a distant rumbling. The words were unintelligible, but there was gentleness there, soothing and calm, not a presence to be feared. A note of urgency in it, maybe even fear. Calling him, and he wanted to answer, but he had no voice in the darkness, no way to reach back.

He woke all at once, when it finally happened. No warning, and Ky stared blankly up for a moment, before he realized he was looking up at light, not darkness. Sunbeams, slanting from a high window across the length of the small room he was in. Dust motes floated gently, thick in the air – hardly a room, and badly damaged. The walls were patched and crumbling in several places. Piles of rubble accumulated loosely here and there, including the one he was laying on, though it had been padded down with a few ratty blankets.

Ky lifted a hand, raking it slowly through his hair, wondered why he was so surprised to do so. Wondered how long he’d been imprisoned, to notice the difference. A glass of water rested on a slab of concrete, close enough to claim end table status. Ky easily drained the glass, though he dropped it instantly, as the shock of the cold water finally jarred all the memories loose. He was grateful, when it hit the blankets instead of the floor, glad he didn’t have to hear it break.

//Wrong. Everything’s wrong.//

He hunched over, the room seeming much too crowded, too loud even with the silence. Focused on the sound of his own breathing but even that was no solace. Strangeness, in the way his muscles moved, and each breath seemed too deep, even if he was bare to the waist and nothing looked wrong. No scars, no wounds.

//A prisoner.// Flashes, he could remember nothing but flickers of too-bright light, voices, the horrible stink of perfect sterility. //Anything, they could have done anything to you, and you’d never know.//

Ky stood up, and nearly threw himself right off his feet, too unsteady to do anything but sit back down again. The second attempt was slower, and better, and he actually made it to the doorway without shaking too hard. He still had to stop for a moment, resting against the frame, listening to nothing. An abandoned building, by the way it smelled, old and musty, and there were any number of places he could have been, any number of places without the resources to rebuild.

Carefully, Ky made his way downstairs, trying to fill in the gaps in his memory, coming up mostly blank. Sol – had Sol been there, or was that only his mind coming to the most probable conclusion? It would have taken no small amount of effort, to free him – nothing a simple human could have accomplished.

//Have fun living that one down.// Sol would hold such a rescue over him until the end of time.

The scent hit him at the bottom of the stairs, alien and dangerous and strong enough to make his head spin, and Ky immediately dropped into a better defensive position, wondering where the hell Sol had left his sword.

Crimson eyes watched him impassively from the other side of the room, the tall, lean figure looking as if it had been standing there always, and could have continued on the same way for eternity without even noticing.

“You’re awake.”

He was still breathing too hard, wincing against an inexplicable burn behind his eyes – Gear, this was a Gear before him and he had no idea how he knew it so clearly – he could /feel/ it, the cool, metallic hollowness in the air between them, the unnatural flow of power. Feel the part of him that took its mere presence as a challenge.

He knew the creature, of course – Testament – knew it, him, by another name, though that had been a long time ago, when he hadn’t been a Gear. Human once, but he’d abandoned that for something more, something ‘better,’ and betrayed them all in the process.

“I know what you are.”

The words were a low growl in his throat, and a quiet voice in the back of Ky’s mind wondered just what the hell he thought he was doing, challenging such a creature in his state. The Gear was obviously unimpressed – if there was anything at all in his expression, it was amusement. The thought of this creature mocking him made Ky’s hands clench, where they had pressed against the wall. Easily shredding the cheap, rotting fiberboard, even cutting splinters from the wood beams beneath.

//Wait.//

It took too long, much too long to realize what was wrong, what had changed, as he lifted a hand away from the wall – a claw, and did not breathe, watching the dark talons flex as he curled what should have been his hand. It hurt, the change had hurt, but hardly the worst thing, now that he was half out of his body with shock.

“What did you do to me?” A hoarse whisper, as far too much became shockingly clear. The Gear said nothing, watching him with serene dispassion – it wasn’t his fault, anyway. Whatever evils he was capable of, Testament wasn’t the one who had done this, not the one who had...

Ky stumbled backwards, back up the stairs, his eyes shut tight – but even as a little child he’d known better than to think wishing and wanting could change anything. He’d never prayed to God for an end to his own suffering, to make his path an easy one. Pain, struggle, these were tools, and by moving past them, a man could bring himself that much closer to righteousness, and worthiness.

He prayed now, blind terror so fierce and overwhelming it came off of him in waves, and he choked on the scent of it.

//No. No, God, please no. God, not this, not this.//

He was running, stumbling – fleeing, or at least trying to, but there was nowhere to go, nothing open, and the walls all seemed to be coming down around him, to crush and destroy. Claustrophobia, but he’d never been hit by it, never like this, that voice inside of him howling, clawing for open space.

//Shut up. Shut up, go away. You’re not real. You can’t be real.//

Willpower and resolve, he had conquered demons before and he would do so again, would defeat whatever monsters rose up against him, even if they’d turned him into one.

//No. No, no.// He could manage it, he could recover, he just needed a moment to think, to catch his breath, though he couldn’t seem to stop running, and the silence screamed around him, accusing, too much to see and even more to smell, the air heavy with the taste of his own fear, hands in his hair, drawing blood because they weren’t hands, not anymore. Ky stumbled, shoulder slamming hard into the wall, and trying to right himself only left him with nothing to lean on, tripping, falling against the other wall, panting for breath as a heavy weight pushed down hard on his back, the muscles there tensed and aching horribly.

It was hard to find his feet, difficult to keep moving, and Ky wondered dimly where he was going, how he thought he could outrun this, heard his feet hit tile and /scratch/ - scraping with a sound his feet should not have been able to make, but Ky didn’t look down at them, all his attention focused on the mirror in front of him, what had once been a bathroom before one of the walls had been ripped away – but the sink still stood, and he leaned against it until the pipes creaked – understandable, the wings made him heavier than he had been.

Ky stared blankly at his own reflection, contemplating his own thoughts, that tiny corner of his mind that was fascinated by the movement in the mirror, like an animal. The animal he was, now – they’d taken everything from him, and he watched the dark claws brush over his warped and twisted features – it wasn’t him, this wasn’t happening to him, except the eyes looking into his own were still blue, even if they weren’t quite human eyes. He’d first known about Sol, known there was something different, from the eyes.

A second flash of blue caught his eyes, little more than a flicker at the bottom corner of the mirror – but Ky knew what it was, still staring in the mirror, claws slowly, awkwardly pushing down the waistband of the loose pants at his waist, drawing blood that did not dare drip across the glowing mark, would not mar the sign of his subjugation.

Gone. All gone, his life, his honor - everything except the barest shell of what he’d been, to remind him, mock him with all they’d taken away. At a great distance, Ky heard the sound of his own claws – not fingers, not ever again – screeching sharply against hard porcelain, the same sound as something deep inside of him, some last passing thread of sanity neatly snapping in two

His hands tore through the cheap ceramic sink, ripping it all the way down to the pipes, and he could see small sparks of electricity rising up off the steel, reacting to the rise of energy in the air – reacting to /him/. Back arched, his wings rose – brushing against the walls, far too small a space to bear – he needed to breathe, he needed - Ky tried to scream, but even the wild roar that ripped free was in no way his own.

-----------------------------------

Sol kept his pace light and fast, even on the last bit of the perimeter check, half to burn off excess energy, half because it was necessary, even if there had been no signs of pursuit so far. They were looking - /everyone/ was looking, and they would be found, it was just a matter of when.

//Just let me get the kid on his feet. Just let me...// Sol trailed off, unsure of what he was actually asking for, anything more than triage seeming too much like a miracle.

Hardly his favorite option, to trust Testament to watch Ky, even for a moment – but the Gear had shown no sign of working for anyone’s interests but his own. Certainly, in the lab, he’d made it clear he could have sprung the knight entirely on his own, if he’d wanted to.

//So why didn’t he? Why did he come to you?//

It seemed too much to ask for, that somebody somewhere had finally thought Sol deserved a break.

The explosion effectively ended that train of thought, jolting him from his half-jog into a full sprint, blade out and blazing, white-hot as their temporary shelter came into view. He knew just as fast, that the weapon would be useless. No sign of attack, no oncoming threat, just smoke and dust rising in the air. If it hadn’t been for the arcs of lightning amidst the rising cloud, he might have mistaken it for the building’s natural decay – but it wasn’t, that was obvious, and it would be obvious to anyone else who might be watching, too.

Ky was awake. Sol wondered if Testament had been able to get out of the way, didn’t really care – but if the damned Gear had done something to cause this, anything... He was growling, deep in his throat, and a part of him could already sense the power in the air, warning him of the new threat.

//Not a threat, not ever. It’s Ky.//

Regardless of the fact that the creature they’d taken from the lab had been built to be the best – and there were times Ky had met him on the field as damn near an equal, all his Gear strength and power providing only the slightest edge against the Holy Knight.

Sol made it to the stairs, skipping the first flight entirely, vaulting his way from midway up the second directly into the lower room. The glowing sword more than compensated for the darkness – Testament was standing where he had been, in the corner of the front room, arms lazily crossed, as if Ky hadn’t just tried to rip the back half of building clear of its foundations.

“I told you to watch him!” Sol snapped, though he was the one to blame, should have known better than to let the Gear use his own discretion. He didn’t wait for Testament’s reply, lashed his arm out, imbedding the Furaiken at least a foot into the nearest wall to cool, stalking toward what remained of the back of the house. As much as he might have needed a weapon to handle Ky, he wouldn’t do it, couldn’t take the risk. The last thing the knight needed was one more threat.

He could smell the lightning, the burning residue it left in its wake – Sol had wondered what sort of natural powers they’d arm their weapon with, what sort of magic. Probably easiest, to go with what Ky already had an affinity with. No fun, although Sol was fairly certain he could take a hell of a lot of volts before he was out of the game.

//Time to find out.//

Moving as silently as he could, he stepped past the snapped pilings and stacks of rubble, chips of stone littering the cracked floors – he could tell, when he was getting closer, and finally Sol turned the corner, and stopped, nearly holding his breath as he gazed at the creature crouched so still on the floor.

He could almost be grateful, that of course Ky would turn it all inwards. Motionless but certainly raging inside, no doubt fear and shame and not nearly enough anger for Sol’s liking.

He had never been sure when it would happen, when Ky would find out exactly who, and what Sol Badguy was. The thought that Ky had not been at all surprised, that he’d likely known – or at least suspected – for years, that had just about blown his mind. Years, fighting alongside him, working with him. Knowing all the time, when Sol had been so certain it would shatter their working animosity. He’d thought the kid too stuck up, too inflexible to even imagine life outside of his tired little roles, putting everything in boxes, so carefully labeled...

//But this is different, not at all the same...// It didn’t help, that Sol didn’t have the words to explain what he’d been before and how it all had happened and why and how he’d kept from falling apart, and even less to try to reach the Holy Knight.

“Ky.” He kept his voice whisper soft – the boy could certainly hear him, had probably heard him before he hit the stairs outside, even though he hadn’t stirred. Sol didn’t dare touch, kept a decent amount of room between them, more for Ky’s comfort than anything. He put both hands up, fingers splayed, hiding nothing. “You in there, kid?”

A hell of a wingspan, even when they weren’t fully extended, wings now curled protectively around his body. Wide and white and terribly beautiful, with the palest gray, speckled patterns that stretched across and down the long, thin bones. Slowly, the left wing rose, arching up slowly, just enough to allow a fiery blue eye to glare back at him. Ky was growling, how intentionally was anyone’s guess, and Sol ruthlessly crushed the instincts that said enemy, and serious danger. He didn’t particularly give a shit for himself, if he couldn’t get this right, if he couldn’t save Ky.

“Talk to me, kid. Let me know you’re still in there.”

No answer, save for the sound of claws scratching and digging helplessly into the floorboards. He didn’t dare move, willing to stand there for as long as it took, to tip the situation out of danger. In the end, it was entirely out of his control, a piece of the upper roof jarred loose from the explosion finally letting loose with a whipcrack of sound, shattering when it hit the ground. He startled – and more importantly Ky startled, wings snapping out as he lunged at Sol with a wild roar.

“Ky. Ky, damn it, snap out of it!”

Sol snarled, hissing sharply as the knight lashed out, claws digging deep into his side, clenching – but he grabbed onto the wrist now spattered with his own blood, keeping the boy close, trying to restrain him, to calm him down. He couldn’t afford to dodge, couldn’t let this fight happen, not now, when he’d lose the kid for sure.

“Ky, it’s me. It’s Sol, goddamn it! You know me!”

He hissed, keeping his grip solid as the knight twisted, trying to throw him off, sending them both flying back into the other wall. Sol was painfully aware how close he could be to losing most of his internal organs, not caring about any of it, only watching for a hint of recognition in the sea of blue. Saw it, saw that flicker of hesitation, and drew the kid closer, very slowly, willing it to return. “That’s it. That’s it. You know me.”

A slight crackled of electricity, and Sol braced himself for a strike that was going to go a long way to balancing out the degrees of self-sacrifice between them - but felt the claws slowly flex instead, slipping out of where they’d dug in with what could almost have been gentleness.

“S-sol?”

Ky refused to flinch at the strange, robotic hollowness in that voice. Forced himself not to pull back, even to adjust his hold on Ky’s arm. He kept himself completely still, faking a perfect calm.

“It’s me. I’m here.” Ky was staring at him, not quite aware. “Calm down. You have to beat this, kid. You can’t let it win.”

Who knew how much their mental ‘processing’ had improved, along with the physical? What if he was chasing only phantoms behind the boy’s eyes – if Ky was truly gone, this obedient shell all that remained?

“Sol? I...”

Ky blinked, swallowed, staring down at the floor, whispering something desperate and solemn in French, or maybe it was just that the language made everything sound so damn serious.

“None of that fancy talk around me, kid.” He knew enough of it to get by – amazing what he’d picked up in a couple hundred years of just walking around – but if he could give Ky one more thing to focus on, anything that wasn’t the wings or the claws – it wasn’t likely, but he /had/ stopped, had pulled himself from that frantic, defensive rage.

Ky leaned closer to him, inhaled, gently, and Sol could feel the battle beneath the skin, fine tremors shuddering across his whole body, as what had been struggled with what was – with how he had changed. Sol could remember it, all the months – years, really, spent in a half-feral haze, clinging to the formalities of what had been his life, managing to mimic, to pretend what – for a very long time – he had been unable to feel.

“Fight it, Ky. Remember who you are. It’s yours to control.”

Still himself, nothing more, nothing to fight against – but Sol would save that speech for much later.

Slowly, he could see, could feel the claws twisting, receding, the knight’s features twisted in what was more than simple pain. Sol still wanted to shout in relief, but he settled for slowly letting out the breath he’d been holding, and even that was enough to make Ky freeze in his arms, transformation coming to a sudden halt at the shock.

“Come back, that’s it. You can do this. You can.”

He soothed, and steadied – god, but it had been lifetimes, since anyone had asked this of him. Ky shoved his head against Sol’s shoulder, groaning softly as the wings folded and shrunk and finally melded to his bare back, the skin smoothing – it was flawless, what they’d done. The knight had not been an experiment, this had been done with deliberation, and study, and great care. Ky’s legs wobbled, buckled, but it was easy enough to keep an arm around his shoulders, keep him upright, only a few steps back, to the side, and Sol helped him down, moving right along with him, until they were both seated on what was still a serviceable bench, singed a bit at the corners.

“I did that.” Ky murmured, staring blankly at the hole in the opposite wall. It wasn’t a question, but Sol answered anyway.

“Yeah, you did.”

It took Sol a moment to recognize the strange sound, almost too low to be heard – Ky was purring softly to himself, a measure of great distress, though Sol thought he probably didn’t realize he was doing it. His hands flexed against his thighs, flickering from human back to Gear, easily shredding the thin fabric – “I can smell it, the difference. You. Me. Him – where did he go? Testament? He’s not here anymore.”

It was a bit startling, that Ky had sensed it – the other Gear was gone, but Sol didn’t bother worrying about it. All this, just to betray them now? He doubted it.

“Outside, probably. Making sure no one else saw your fireworks show.”

Ky flinched, and Sol kicked himself – too much, too soon for humor. How long had it taken him, to trust himself in his new body? How many /years/ - and he didn’t have near the prejudices, the views on religion and purity and sin. Ky may have been a pragmatic commander of the holy knights, but he might as well have had his crucifix sown on, for all he had ever thought to stray.

“I’m marked now, like you. I’m... they did that to me. Made me one of them.” Ky didn’t look at him, disgust and shame thick in his voice. Still staring straight ahead, refusing to look at him. Mark of the Beast. Sol could remember, a long time ago, when it had meant something else entirely.

“It means what you want it to mean. Nothing more.”

He was startled, when Ky shook his head, sharp and fast, before glaring at him with eyes rendered sharp and glassy by the tears that quickly spilled over. The entire Crusade, all the blood, all the carnage, Sol had never seen him cry. The commander of the Holy Knights – there should have been a thousand, ten thousand moments to break him, and yet his final downfall had come well after all the dust had settled, in the silence of the aftermath.

“I can’t live like this.” Bordering hysterical, he growled, and then laughed at the growl, tossing a wild glance Sol’s way, and he could hear the slightest snap, the smallest spark of lightning – “I can’t be this – this thing, this /abomination/. I’m not even /human/ anymore, I can’t...”

“You are not an abomination.” Sol might have checked the impulse to grab Ky by the shoulders, shaking him hard, surprised that it was the Gear instinct – determination beyond all rational limits – that would not let Ky speak so. Would not lose him to this. A little unnerving, how strong the feeling was, but he had more important things to do than argue with it.

“You’re still /you/, they didn’t change that, they couldn’t. Hell, they probably wanted to, but you’re too damn stubborn. Goddamn it, kid - /you’re/ the one who’s always going on about souls and duty and God – how God is stronger than anything, than any of this. Do you really think he’s abandoned you now? Do you really think this isn’t just another trial, another battle for you to win?”

Of course he did, of course Ky knew, it was just coming too fast and too much all at once, and Sol hurt with him as he shuddered, clutching Sol’s arm with claws that dug in sharply. Biting back a scream as the wings ripped free once more, all his features twisting into that other form. He knew what he’d done, tried to draw back, pull away – but Sol caught his hands, kept him from moving even as Ky’s feet scrabbled against the floor.

“I’m fine. You couldn’t hurt me before, you’re sure as hell not going to manage it now.”

Ky gaped at him, transformation halted for a moment in awe of his insanity – and given the way his tail suddenly flicked and flared, sending a line of blue electricity across the floor, cracking what remained of the border of the wall, he certainly had the right to his disbelief.

“I can’t control it. I can’t make it stop.” Shaking, Ky was shaking terribly, panting for air with his eyes tightly shut. Sol held on, gave him the anchor of a solid presence – hell, maybe being a Gear even helped, gave him something to identify with on that primal level. A pack, solidarity and loyalty beyond even what the Seishkidan could offer.

“You’re trying too hard. Trust yourself. You can accept this, just like the rest of it. You know who you are, and that hasn’t changed.”

With anyone else, Sol would have never offered such advice, but Ky had the self-control of ten men, even halving that could not change much. So much that he wanted to do – and not half of it was to go back to that damn lab and slaughter anyone they hadn’t managed to kill the first time – and yet, here and now he was entirely helpless. Useless to do anything but hold on to the knight, try to think of reasons for him to keep going, when he’d never really had ones of his own. Stubbornness, maybe, the determination to make sure they would all regret making him live so long.

It took even longer the second time, for Ky to regain control. The claws retracted, his ears slipping from points – he seemed to be more sure of himself, though it was difficult to be certain. When the wings dropped down, once more merging with the skin Ky finally did scream, too exhausted and overwhelmed to hold it back. Sol held on, until those strained muscles finally went limp. Half-asleep, or unconscious, before he had lifted Ky into his arms, the knight letting out a slight whimper as his hands brushed over the newly shifted skin.

“Sorry, sorry.” Sol murmured, carefully stepping over the debris, glad that the pile of rags and concrete he’d faked into a bed was still relatively unharmed. It wouldn’t be safe to stay here for long, but he could at least give Ky a few more hours uninterrupted sleep. Ky, who was still shivering, clinging to his arm with fingers that, blessedly, stayed human, flexing against the strain, fighting even in his dreams.

It wasn’t a question of leaving him, and Sol hopped up on the pallet, sitting down, holding the knight close. He could smell the difference now, he’d said, and certainly Sol could scent it too, not nearly so bad now that they weren’t in a laboratory. Different – everything had changed, had stretched to the breaking point but by some miracle had not broken. Breathing, Ky was still breathing and not completely crazy and for the moment that was as much as he felt like asking for.

----------------------------------------

Testament never returned, which was reason enough for them to start moving immediately, though Sol was fairly sure the Gear had not betrayed them, if only because he’d had better opportunities to do it sooner.

No longer thinking just of himself – he was in this, as deep as he could go - and for who knew how long. Back to the old days of the Crusades, but more important now, demanding his constant attention. Back then, he’d been as much a foil for the Seishkidan as ally, always the first and loudest to speak. Delighted to let the holy knights know when a plan was too stupid to succeed. Happy to walk off mid-fight when he knew Ky would be alive to bitch at him later.

Now, the holy knight needed him just to get one foot in front of the other, to pretend not to notice when he suddenly sprouted a tail, or when the hands that clenched against his arms left bloody trails when they drew back. Ky was hurting badly, and much of it internal, battling with his own mind, trying to adapt – trying to convince himself he could adapt, without losing who he was. The external difficulties didn’t help matters, still in no shape to control his transformations, let alone do it without pain. Sol could see him shaking, nearly all the time, though Ky never said a word, only nodding whenever the other man suggested they hurry along.

Three days and nights, and they’d covered more ground than he expected to, even if Sol wasn’t exactly sure where they were going. Still glanced up at the sky, now and then, wondered if the Postwar Administration Bureau had managed to send up any new satellites after they’d all been blown up during the Crusades. He’d been good enough to see them once, years ago, in the night sky, so he felt a little safer with only stars above them now.

Just before dawn, the weak light painting everything hazy and peaceful, Sol stopped at the edge of a cliff, overlooking a large city. Watching the skyline just start to flicker, lights disappearing as the sun rose. Slightly safer to move in the dark, and Ky could manage it just fine, had done so in the Order and now his night vision was a thousand times improved.

“Sol?”

Not just his night vision that had improved, Sol hadn’t heard him move at all. The human failings that he’d counted on, to sense the knight’s presence before were no longer applicable. Ky moved to his side, Sol could see him trying to adjust his vision, probably sensing more of the city even from here than he wanted to. It had taken Sol a long, long time, before he could trust cities again.

“I think I’ll go look around. See if I can learn anything.” See if there was a bounty on any new Gears, though he hardly had to say it aloud. “You think you can rest for a while?”

Ky raised an eyebrow, lips barely quirking but for him it was a bright smile. “Slept through worse.” That, and he was obviously dead on his feet. Sol had been moving fast, counting on Gear endurance to hold up past what the rest of the knight could take. A risk, but perhaps if Ky needed to depend on that strength, he might learn to use it, and accept it.

“No. I... ah-”

The clipped cry, what would certainly have been a curse, if it had been anyone else, and Ky reached up, quickly jerking off the light jacket he’d been wearing, and his sword, letting both drop to the ground. The shirt underneath caught, tearing on his claws, though they were back to hands within the next breath. The wings caused him the most pain, easily, and Ky staggered, would have fallen had Sol not been there to help him stand.

“It’s all right. Let it happen, don’t fight it.”

Ky snarled something in French that was decidedly obscene, hands – claws – digging once more into Sol’s shoulders. Still fighting, refusing to accept what he was. Too afraid, and trying to force it away only made the change more painful. By the time it was all over, Ky was once again undone, legs buckling as he gasped for air, fighting and shivering and damn if it wasn’t really difficult to keep him standing with his wings outstretched.

Sol reached out for the span of the left, to try and fold it down, realized it was a mistake just as Ky snarled, low in his throat, one claw raking the air where his throat had been a moment before. He braced himself, but there was no further attack – the knight was frozen, staring at him instead with that all-too-familiar look of shock and horror – and hurt, arm still outstretched, claws gleaming as he flexed them, slowly.

“I’m sorry. I... you shouldn’t be – I’m not...”

Not in control, not safe, and the thought that Sol might lose the kid over something as stupid as that concern – his worthless hide - made him want to laugh, though it came out as a snarl. Sol lunged, catching Ky completely, eyes going wide for only a moment before they both hit the ground. He probably would have done it, even if Ky had been at full strength, but this way he could make his point without the threat of losing limbs.

It was still a fight, Ky alternately shouting and growling, and Sol could feel him fighting the shift, pulling strikes the Gear in him would have easily taken, and he winced at the slight pop and crackle of a rising charge. Shit, shouldn’t have forgotten about /that/ - but Ky gritted his teeth – fangs, for a moment, the transformation almost total, with Sol providing the incentive – and let it die, let the energy fade. The knight still put up a decent struggle, tired as he was, and his shock was obvious, as Sol finally managed a decent hold, pinning him to the ground, waiting for Ky to wear himself out.

“You /can’t hurt me/, you idiot. I’m sure as hell not afraid of you, so stop worrying about it.”

“Get off.”

Stupidly, his body seemed to finally realize that he was – yes – actually straddling a quite warm and writhing Ky Kiske. Wasn’t as if Sol hadn’t wondered what it might be like, getting into his pants as well as under his skin. Anyone as pure and pious as the holy knight was damn near /begging/ for a good debauching.

Still, the surprise wasn’t that he’d noticed, so much that /Ky/ had noticed, a definite discomfort and nervousness in his eyes that, ironically, had shifted most of him back into a human form. Sol breathed in, nearly laughed at the way Ky’s eyes widened, realizing what he was doing, because what hung in the air between them wasn’t much like fear or irritation at all.

“Get off of me!”

He bucked, thrashing determinedly, and probably could have thrown Sol off even if the other man hadn’t already been stepping back out of the way. The burst of energy didn’t last long, Ky got to his feet but stood there slump-shouldered, fine tremors shivering through his entire body, wings twitching, and Sol could see him wince each time they moved.

“You don’t have to stay out here, if you’re not up to it. He threw a thumb back, over the side of the cliff, down toward the town. “I doubt it would be much more dangerous, than sleeping up here, to–”

“No.” Ky said sharply, and winced as he realized how desperate it sounded. “I’ll be fine up here. The rocks look soft enough.”

A weak joke – and he stumbled behind Sol toward the low ledges. Not deep enough to be actual caves, but a place a person could tuck themselves under if the situation was dire enough. Sol turned to ask about the wingspan, only to find Ky already wedging himself in between an overhang and the ground, wings pressed to his side in a makeshift blanket. It wasn’t cold here, even less so out of the wind – and Sol doubted it would have mattered anyway. Ky was already asleep, barely visible beneath the shadow of the rock, dappled patterns even mixing with the stone.

Sol watched the unmoving form of the knight, for much longer than he had to. The vow of freedom, for a long time, had kept him as the most distant of lone wolves. Trust was costly, and it took so little time to lose control, to sink into a mire of deception and betrayal that there was no pulling out of. Half the reason he’d accepted Undersen’s proposition – the man had offered him nothing less than centerfield in the largest clusterfuck humanity had ever seen, with very little chance of success. Hard to say no, to an offer like that.

He’d never asked Ky, if he’d had a choice about joining, or if he’d even wanted a choice. Of course, Sol knew it should have bothered him more, how far he’d been dragged into this already – but really, with the memory of Ky under him, that mix of fury and surprise – oh, but that had always been there, hadn’t it? Always the knowledge that Ky snapped at him faster than anyone else, always took far too much offense to Sol’s lewd remarks. Always kept an eye on him.

//... and if he’d really hated you, he would have killed you by now.//

Sol knew he was grinning, stupidly – there was little to be happy about, even now that he was fairly certain Ky wasn’t about to go crazy. The logical argument did very little against the smirk on his face, as he turned away, picking an easy path down the sheer cliff wall. Sol was sure he’d see it from town, if someone was fool enough to attack Ky – fairly sure the both of them had hardly begun to see what he was capable of.

--------------------------------------

Sol learned next to nothing, which in itself was a good deal of information. The town knew nothing about the attack, the bounty hunters knew nothing about Ky, or a white-winged Gear recently escaped from any lab. Complete and total silence, which meant this went as deep as he thought it did and was as bad as it could be. Possibly, even the Bureau itself didn’t know exactly what had happened, whatever inner factions it harbored happy to war against each other until all the bones were picked clean. It could work in their favor, playing the sides – as long as he could keep Ky away from all of them.

He kept an eye on the cliff the entire time, feeling the Gear prowl back and forth inside his head, not at all pleased with a return to this constant state of panic, of being actively hunted. Sol ignored it, scoured the streets for information until night dropped down and it was obvious, there were no answers to be found here.

Ky was still sleeping soundly, right where Sol had left him, no sign anyone had even been in the area, let alone disturbed his resting place. A little troubling, that he didn’t wake even as Sol loomed over him – or perhaps he actually knew Sol was not his enemy, not a threat. It had been years they’d spent, really, watching each others backs – though still, hard to believe Ky trusted him. It just wasn’t one of those thoughts that settled in easily.

Sol took a patrol, still too restless to relax, though it was obvious this area was uninhabited, nothing but the random rabbit or fox that trembled itself silent as he passed, a tiny heart beating so fast there was nothing like a pause in between. It had been too long, too many years since that other life, to remember how he’d been at the beginning. How /everything/ had changed. He wondered what Ky thought, realizing how much larger, how much more complex and astonishing the world was when things shifted just a little bit, when the limit of his senses had pulled so far from what it had been.

It was beautiful, in a strange way. If only Ky would see it.

It was easy to hear I-No’s footsteps, long before her long, lean figure appeared at the edge of the cliff. She was making no attempt to hide herself, and Sol wondered if it would be enough of a surprise to work, just lunging, latching his hands around her throat. Likely not, but he lingered on the thought of it for a long moment, anyway.

“Look at them all,” she purred, not so unkindly, and Sol gazed along with her, over the city lights. So distant and meaningless to him now, so far from where he was they might as well have been stars. I-no shifted, the sheer stockings she wore managing to catch enough light to make her thighs shimmer.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it. All that trouble, all the pain, and they’re still just... marching on.”

She perched, effortlessly wanton, a few stones away – and she smelled cold as the air, but lifeless too – not dead, but something hollow, never really alive. She’d been killing tonight, he could smell that too – but what she could scent was infinitely more interesting. Sol could see the amusement in her eyes.

“Is he well?”

“Magnificent.” It was nothing less than the truth, and Sol was content to let it stand. She was dangerous, even like this, relaxed and teasing, and Sol prepared himself – he’d have only a moment, if that. He stepped to the side, as she moved – never took his eyes off her, and always kept himself between her and where he knew Ky lay. “You won’t get him back, not ever.”

“You’re not going to thank me at all, are you?” I-No wagged a finger at him, ‘tsk’ing softly. “I knew he wouldn’t, but I thought you might.”

He could either ignore it, or tear her spine out. Sol went for the former, though not without a quiet struggle.

“So, I assume Testament’s given you a full report.”

“Oh, so he was with you after all? Naughty boy, I haven’t seen him in ages. You men are so rough and rude, though it isn’t /always/ a bad thing...”

One step, and another, and the guitar was off her back and in her hands and she stopped only when the Furaiken cut through the air, and Sol stared back at her through the waver of heat haze between them. He didn’t want this fight, not here or now and damn sure not when Ky could wake up in the middle of it.

“Your problem, Frederick, is that you think this is something you can win.”

I-No licked her lips. It meant something – it always meant something, but he couldn’t bring himself to care just what. The conversation had already lasted longer than he’d ever wanted it to. Sol tightened his grip just slightly on the sword. It probably wouldn’t be enough – but she wasn’t half as well put together as she thought she was.

“I would walk away, if I were you. I really would.”

“Do you think it matters so much if I die? Is that really where you draw your lines?” I-no rested the edge of her guitar against her thigh, hand loose around the neck, unimpressed. Still teasing, one dark hazel eye watching him from beneath the brim of her hat.

“Now here’s the part, if you were an intelligent man, that you’d make me an offer. Or at least try. We’re not on such different sides, the two of us.”

“I can’t believe you’re not running.”

“I can’t believe I’m not on fire.” She never looked less human than when she was truly happy. “You think this wasn’t absolutely necessary? You’d prefer to leave him defenseless, against what’s to come?”

He couldn’t explain to her, what he’d prefer. No common words between them, nothing that could make a nightmare understand.

“You chose, Frederick. Call yourself whatever you want, make whatever excuses you must. The future was coming, and you looked, and you chose. What would change now, if you had to choose again? Would you really choose another path?”

“It wasn’t his choice, this was /force/. He never would have chosen – you can’t just strip a man of his humanity.”

“Oh, but they did, didn’t they? It wasn’t even that difficult. If you ask me, it was all a terrible improvement.” One eyebrow arched, she was definitely leering. “Of course, if I ask you, and you have the balls to ever tell me the /truth/...”

It took him two strikes, to throw her off the cliff, and if she hadn’t had a hair out of place at the end of it, if he could hear the echo of her laughter in the air - at least she was /gone/. Sol stayed there at the edge for a long time, just to make sure. Ky slept for the rest of the night – and by the time he woke, there wasn’t even the barest scent, that she’d been there at all.

------------------------------------

Johnny had never considered himself a penitent man, certainly not someone who enjoyed denying himself temptation, or found any virtue in doing so. If anything, hedonism was his religion of choice, and he saw little problem in the indulgence.

The fact that this resolve had led him to sharing a ship with a dozen girls half his age – all of whom considered him a big brother - had not escaped his notice.

“Kiyaa! May!!”

April squealed, as the other girl stuck her thumb over the end of the hose, sent an arc of water splashing across her back. She turned throwing a soaked sponge in retaliation – and pumping a fist in triumph, as it exploded across May’s t-shirt. Johnny grimaced, and kneaded the railing a bit. It was a strangely idyllic moment – with the entire deck full of half-naked girls, cavorting like soapy nymphs over the surface of his ship. Cleaning day, with the weather warm, the sun so bright in the sky. For a while they’d even taken it seriously, until one of the girls had tripped with a bucket of water, flinging it everywhere. Retaliation had come swiftly, in many more buckets – and now Johnny was standing with examples A through double Z of the case against him, for being a severely perverted old man.

In his defense – though it wasn’t much of one – it was May’s laugh alone that had brought him out here, her lithe movements that he certainly was /not/ watching from the corner of his eye. Using her fighting skills to less serious ends now, ducking and dodging attacks from each of her shipmates in turn, until a concentrated group effort left her bubble-soaked and toppling backward in a giggling pile on the deck.

May reached down carelessly, arms crossed, and pulled the soaked t-shirt up over her head - //where the hell had she learned to do that// - in one quick move, revealing nothing more than an entirely modest one-piece, dark blue suit, even that mostly covered by a pair of matching shorts. Two summers old, he’d been there when she’d picked the whole thing out, and hadn’t thought anything of it then.

//Not that you’re actually /thinking/ now.//

He grimaced, shifting carefully against the wall, well aware he was holding on to the railing for dear life. Damn if May’s shorts didn’t ride up at the most excruciatingly perfect angle.

“In most countries, you’d be in jail for this.”

Johnny didn’t jump this time, though it was more by chance than design, his thumb at the guard of his katana, a good inch of the blade out of the sheath. He turned sharply, showing his teeth, though it wasn’t quite a smile.

“I need to put a goddamn bell on –”

Johnny expected Sol, not the man standing next to him – listing, really, barely on his feet though he wasn’t moving at all. Blue eyes watched him suspiciously from a pale, haggard face – a fair part of him prepared to fight, even if the rest was ready to hit the floor.

“Hello there, lawman.” Johnny couldn’t hear the girls laughing anymore, but nothing dangerous seemed forthcoming. No ominous feel in the wind, and so he kept his full attention on Sol, and one hand at the hilt of his sword. “So, you’re bringing the police force to my door now, because we both love a good joke.”

Sol did not notice his unease, or more likely, didn’t care. “He’s not with them, not anymore. We need somewhere to stay, just until he can get on his feet again.”

Ky shot Sol a nasty glare, and Johnny watched Sol return it, and repressed a slight grin. At least it wasn’t just his life that was difficult.

“Sounds dangerous. If you’re in trouble, then I’m in trouble – and it’s not just me I gotta think about.” As if to prove the point, May was suddenly there, nudging her way under his arm, staring suspiciously at Sol and his unexpected companion. He didn’t like the way the lawman looked back at her – damn Sol, for always making things interesting.

“I can pay. You’ll be compensated for any... extra trouble.”

Level, not urgent – Sol was never urgent – but it was clear he had no intention of leaving, either. Johnny kept his eyes off the other man – holy knight, just /perfect/ for a pirate ship – and clenched his jaw, as he felt May tense up. Heard more footsteps behind him, as the girls clustered together, waiting for the order.

Weary as he looked, Johnny knew the lawman was no small threat with that sword, and Sol – well, how often had he pondered the dimensions of that fight and come up with less than zero? Sol had the sort of presence that came from a lifetime of holding back his real power – otherwise Johnny thought he would have been ruling the planet by now, or else laughing among the wreckage.

“Ne, Johnny?”

May’s voice was soft, nearly toneless – but it was a question, and he knew just what it meant. All he had to do was give the order, and his little princess would rush into this fight without thinking, without hesitating. Ready to lay down her life for him, not for victory or for justice or for any other reason than that he’d asked her to. A whole shipful of girls behind her, willing to do just the same.

“Maa,” he sighed, reaching up under the brim of his hat, scratching at his head. “When did I become the responsible one? Fine, you both can stay. We’ve got a place at the other end of the ship, so you’ll be out of our way.”

He couldn’t help but smile at Sol’s slight shock, as April, always the businesswoman, moved to block his path, holding out a hand.

“Cash in advance.”

----------------------------

“Little bastards. I think they’d take the fillings in our teeth if we didn’t sleep light.”

Sol frowned, listening to the engine rattle the walls, the constant thrum of it thick in the air. A storeroom of sorts, tables and chairs – only one bed, but enough blankets tossed about to manage a spare. It was still better than where they’d been before – and Johnny was always moving, always careful. It wouldn’t stop anything truly terrible – wouldn’t stop /her/, or those she represented - but at the moment it was the best Sol could think of.

Ky was doing better by the hour, it seemed. It shouldn’t have been so surprising, that the former Seishkidan high commander could pull himself together with such speed. No more sudden, uncontrollable shifts – it seemed he was using Sol’s constant jabs as a way to control even the more minor shifts. Relearning how to control his emotions, or at least their effects on his body.

Slight flickers still, here and there, but most of it was quick enough that no one would understand what it meant, even if they did notice it. Ky hadn’t let his wings out for over a week, which was more than a little troubling. Repressing it completely wouldn’t do any real good, trying to pretend it wasn’t there couldn’t change the truth – but maybe this was the way Ky had to do it. If it kept him from running mad in the streets – flying mad, perhaps – Sol could hardly object.

Ky wasn’t stupid. The only question now was, just how long would it take him to admit to what he couldn’t hide.

“We can’t stay here.” He muttered, though he couldn’t manage more than a few steps on his own, wobbling for a moment before falling back hard onto the small cabin’s bed. Sol held back a sigh, knew this was coming.

“Until you can stand up on your own, we sure as hell can. If you get on your high horse just because the people who betrayed you call these people criminals-”

He stopped, because Ky was not arguing, his expression not stubborn determination but blank, gaze frighteningly distant, turned inward. Sol’s attention immediately dropped to his hands, the first thing that would have changed – but they were still human, if clutching each other in a white-knuckled grip.

“We’re going to get them killed, if we stay here. The people after us - we can’t risk those children-”

Sol snorted – not the tack he’d thought the knight would take, although this shouldn’t have been a surprise, either. “Those children can take care of themselves – or did you not notice the guns?

Ky shook his head, not backing down, and Sol sighed in frustration.

“When was the first time you picked up a weapon, Kiske? When did you first see someone die? You were born risking your life, and so were they. You know that.”

Had him there , though there was only a twitch of Ky’s hand to prove it. He’d been too young, too young for any of this – too young for where he was now. The knight glared back anyway, stubborn to the core.

“It’s not the Crusades anymore, Sol.”

“You so sure about that? After everything you’ve been through? After all this? I’m sure as hell not.” He hated this, when Ky sat there and actually listened to him. Too much pressure, too much responsibility. “The people who did... what they did to you, it was for a reason. A plan – all of this, those stupid fucking robots, and this, and-”

“Do you hear her, Sol? Ever?”

So abrupt, that it took him a moment to figure out what Ky meant, though the fear in his eyes was what finally made it clear.

//Oh God.// He should have thought of it before, should have realized – it had been one of the worse parts of the war, how easily Justice’s army could navigate among its own ranks, controlled to the twitch of a claw by their determined leader. A perfect, single-minded machine, loyal and obedient - /mindless/, really...

Ky was watching him closely, and he looked so afraid, and so young.

“No. No, not for a long time now.”

Ky nodded, but Sol could see it had done next to nothing as comfort.

“I wouldn’t let her have you. I promise that.”

“You could stop her?”

“I could kill you.”

Ky laughed abruptly, laughed at him, and though Sol had meant it, it felt instantly absurd, and the knight was watching him with too-old eyes.

“Death won’t end it. It didn’t for Testament.” He raised an eyebrow – and bitter resignation did not suit him at all. “Maybe I should be honored, that they bothered to take me while I was still alive.”

“Stop.” Sol growled, shook his head. “Don’t do this. Don’t give them that doubt, they don’t deserve it. You won’t go back and you sure as hell won’t go to /her/, and if you were going to go crazy you would have done it by now.”

“Why do you give a shit, Sol?” Ky said, suddenly studying him – and Sol felt his mouth snap shut, startled to be suddenly under the intense gaze, blue eyes staring as if they could see right through him. “You really care. I didn’t think you cared about anything.”

He rolled his shoulder in the usual shrug, but the easy denial wouldn’t come. Nothing would come, with Ky still watching and everything growing more uncomfortable by the moment – and how the knight had managed to do such a thing was beyond him.

“You’re too important to waste on them. I’ve seen too many good things die, not to try and save what I can, when I can.”

Ky’s gaze went inward, mouth set in a grim line. “Yeah.”

He wondered how, if there hadn’t been any moment, it still felt like he’d killed it. How Ky could make him feel awkward, when he’d been so sure he’d had the upper hand. “You should get some rest.”

“Yeah.”

-----------------------------------------

Well past noon, when Sol finally dragged himself across the deck. The third day of it – whatever it was. Johnny had still barely seen the lawman. He kept himself locked away, wouldn’t even talk to the girls.

“You look like hell.”

“It was a long night.”

Sol had thought everything was fine, had been fine, and Ky was quietly sleeping – until he’d taken a closer look, to find the knight pale and trembling, one wrist pressed against his mouth to muffle the screams. God only knew how long he’d been keeping this a secret, still going through the growing pains, his body still changing. No better, that even after he realized it, there was little he could do but watch. It had taken most of the night – and now he knew why Ky slept so much, /he’d/ been exhausted, by the time the pain subsided and the knight could finally fall asleep.

“So what’s the plan?”

One red eye shifted in his direction. “What’s with you and the pirate girl?”

“Fair enough.”

No asking about the plan, which meant that Sol didn’t have one. No plans, no explanations, and it had to be even worse than the half-theories he could come up with. Ky Kiske had gone from legendary hero to dangerous criminal in less than a day, and wherever Sol had finally found him, it was safe to say he hadn’t been among allies. No one believed in the crap about honor among thieves, but as far as Johnny could see, there wasn’t any more honor in the law-abiding, not for something like this to happen – even if he wasn’t sure just what ‘this’ was.

“Is he gonna live?”

“Yep.” Funny, how Sol didn’t seem any happier, though he sounded sure enough in his diagnosis. Johnny waited, and then wondered why he thought he’d get an explanation, no matter how much he might deserve one. Sol was hardly his usual lazy self, visibly tense, one hand just barely touching the railing, poised as if he might leap over it at any moment, staring blankly into the clouds.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“Nope.” No grin, no sign Sol was anywhere but a million miles away, and Johnny scowled, hit the railing with the side of his fist, though even that barely caught Sol’s attention.

“Remind me again, just what kind of risk I’m taking, letting him on my ship?”

“The same one you’re taking for having that girl aboard.”

Johnny realized the mistake he’d made, making even an oblique threat against the lawman, though Sol’s reaction was unexpected – the bounty hunter he’d known this long wouldn’t have batted an eye over a threat to someone else – hell, he’d never seen Sol when he wasn’t alone, and determinedly avoiding anyone else’s problems.

“Listen, it’s not like – I just need to-” Cut off, as the other man lifted a hand to silence him, staring intently at the clouds. Johnny felt his stomach lurch, a moment of dread, and on the other side of the ship the door banged open, June hitting it hard enough to make it clang against the hull – she was shouting, she’d hit the alarm, but Johnny didn’t listen or even turn to look at her, not when the worst was already right in front of them.

“Shit.”

Maybe a quarter as big as the ship, and about nine times as ugly as anything he could have imagined. He’d seen Gears before, even before Dizzy, had always wondered how anyone could compare her to those mindless beasts, just by /looking/ at them. Johnny could hear more shouting behind him now, the slam of feet on the deck – the girls, taking their positions, manning the guns – April would have a fit, the ammunition bills were always too high for her taste.

May was at his side immediately, looking at him worriedly, but he had no time to say anything, the creature letting out a roar as it dove – and the scream left him deaf and damn near blind. Barely catching himself from falling, May curled against her anchor and Sol shaking it off, shoulders bowed, the sonic attack too much even for the bounty hunter.

He looked up, just in time to see a wall of flesh, sinew and claws take over the sky, and Johnny dove to the side, dragging May with him, listening to the screech of twisting, buckling metal as the damn thing ripped its way right through two levels of the ship’s plating, new alarms blaring as it listed beneath the impossible weight. The tail came around, snapping through more railings as if they were nothing, and Johnny wondered just how short a fight this was going to be. He watched a volley of bullets pepper the creature’s side – Augus and July making every shot count, even if it had little effect.

A shout, followed by a massive fireball – Sol, on the other side - and the creature finally screeched in pain, lifting back off the deck with another squeal of metal and a gust of wind so strong that even flat against the deck, Johnny could feel himself sliding, holding fast to May to keep them both from going over the edge.

The monster rose, swooping up into the clouds, disappearing beneath the heavy cover – had to be coming around for another strike. The ship was moving fast now, June behind the wheel since April was a better shot and evasive maneuvers were a hopeless cause. Johnny scrambled to his feet, watched a few more shots disappear into the clouds, heard the guns turning back and forth, the whine of Novel’s mecha, waiting for it to appear again. He had his sword out – for whatever he thought it was going to accomplish – and snapped at Sol for lack of anything better to do.

“You’re not having this fight on my plane.”

“More ‘around’ your plane than on it.” Sol said distantly, sword in hand, studying the clouds. “Your fault, really, not asking for a damage deposit.”

“Oh you goddamn son of a –“

Cut off again, as the creature burst out from the clouds directly ahead of them, and he felt at least vaguely relieved, that it wasn’t at all interested in any sort of surprise attack. If anything, it seemed preoccupied, holding off on anything truly devastating, scouring the deck with one large, unblinking eye. Searching for Kiske, Johnny was sure of it, and he was grateful to see the door at the far end of the ship still closed. If it was looking for the lawman, the last thing they needed was for it to find him.

Sol seemed to share his opinion, glancing back at the door even as he launched into another attack, though it was clear the fire was doing no damage at all, the wind too fast, dissolving the magic long before it could strike home. Johnny grimaced, watching bits and pieces of his ship snap apart, crumbling away – the Gear’s sonic attack, in near-silent waves, but focused to razor-sharp blasts.

He darted across the deck, still no idea how they could flank the creature, needing a better plan of attack – before it ripped out the ship from under them.

----------------------------

Ky wasn’t on deck – which meant he was either comatose, had enough sense to stay out of trouble, or that thing’s shrieking had taken him down even harder than it had hit Sol. Thankfully, he didn’t need to hear very well to keep track of the massive Gear – it must have been a rush job, or they’d patched up something in a tank somewhere, desperate enough to send it out on this mission. He wasn’t even sure where it had come from – how many levels of the Bureau, how many other ‘interested parties’ were playing against each other now, for possession of the former commander of the Seishkidan.

More than a little irritating, that at the moment the /girls/ were doing a better job than he was at saving the day, though Sol only had a few truly long-range options, and nothing he was going to waste on this sack of cheap steak, until he had no other choice. Johnny was working his way out onto the other side of the deck – they didn’t dare try to bring this thing down on the deck, when it had already proved capable of crashing the ship – but getting as much coverage as possible couldn’t hurt. Thankfully, the Gear didn’t have much on its side besides the expected claws and mass and tat ear-splitting shriek. Unfortunately, the simple effect of the wind battering against both it and the ship was making it impossible to hit directly, all his spells and even most of the bullets deflected by the currents or the creature’s own thick hide.

May was as helpless as he was, massive anchor in one hand, ready to attack but unsure of just where or how to do it. The Gear swooped down again, rolled to the side, away from them – still searching, still focused on its mission – but this time, as it wheeled away, the beast’s long tail swung back, smashing into the end of the bridge, taking out several of the guns.

Johnny was moving instantly to assist, and Sol could see a few of the girls scrambling for safer ground, but the little blonde who had been in the main turret couldn’t free herself, trapped as the steel crumbled around her –

“April!”

May shrieked, catching sight of her friend, though it was already too late to do anything but watch her scramble for anything solid, anything that wasn’t falling with her. Poised for a terrible moment in midair, eyes wide and panicked – and then she was gone, and if she’d cried out at all, it vanished in May’s desperate scream.

“APRIL!”

A white blur shot past Sol – Ky, running full tilt, and the knight didn’t hesitate, didn’t throw one backward glance before diving over the side. Sol grabbed May, dropping to the ground as the creature swooped in overhead, raking the deck once more with its claws. He barely cared, all his thoughts with the knight now somewhere below them, plummeting to earth.

//Can he pull his wings when he needs to?//

Oh, /now/ was the time to have that thought. Sol looked up, sharing a frustrated glance with Johnny, pinned down on the other side of the ship – someone was going to have to get a lot closer, to do any damage. He looked back, at the rise of the ship, a few radio antennae spiking up here and there. If he got high enough, maybe...

“April!”

May shouted again, no longer in horror but what sounded like relief, and he turned to see Ky carrying the girl, wings out but still mostly human – and he threw a glance back over his shoulder, at a sudden, wild roar, as the monster burst from the clouds, moving much faster now and roaring for blood.

Ky swooped low across the deck, the Gear right at his heels. Sol lunged forward, sword out, and knew Ky would see it, know what to do, and grinned as he charged the Furaiken, Ky snapping aside at the last minute, a blast of fire catching the beast full in the face. It roared, claws lashing out, scrabbling against the deck, blindly trying to turn, to follow the last glimpse it had of its prey.

Sol rolled back, pushed by the force of its wings, trying not to take one of the massive talons to the face. Ky was still over the deck, holding April by one hand, diving low. He let go, and she tumbled, landing in Johnny’s arms. May was gone immediately, darting across the deck to her friend as Ky rose in the air, snapping to the side, diving beneath the clouds with the Gear right after him.

He would keep it away from the ship, act as their decoy – and Sol rushed to the edge, willing Ky not to be that stupid, eyes searching the thick cover for any sign – there, a break in the clouds, and he caught the faintest skip of white, the violent ugliness of mottled reds, as the Gear tried to close the distance.

Ky flew as if he had been born to it, meant for nothing else. Sol had known as much, that if he ever stopped fighting the Gear and just let it happen, accepted what he was and what he could do – he would be damn near unstoppable. Common sense, after all, that the man who’d done as much as any of them to defeat Justice would be capable of wielding such power as if he’d been born to it.

A dogfight, and an ugly one – Ky was faster, more agile, but the Gear was larger, and any blow that managed to land would certainly knock Ky right out of the sky. He twisted, dodging, close enough that the Gear finally lunged for him, jaws snapping on empty air, where he had been moments before. Sol had been wrong, the knight wasn’t simply distracting it – but determined to destroy it. Ky folded his wings, claws out, raking the Gear, digging deep into its back, electricity dancing in wild arcs across the hideous form. Enough to make the Gear roar in agony, twisting down into the clouds, once more out of sight – but not enough to end it.

A roar, and rumbling right beneath the ship, and then Ky was curving around the stern, twisting and diving away from blasts that ripped the clouds apart around him, the Gear in a mad fury now, screaming for blood. Sol hissed as one of those sonic blasts caught the very edge of his wing, and Ky crumpled for only a moment, quickly turning the fall into a dive, pulling up to rise in front of the ship, passing once more, low across the deck.

“Sword!” Ky shouted, and the Fuenken was out of his hand, flying through the air before Sol could consider the move, before he had the chance to wonder if Ky could catch it. He realized, just as fast, that there had been no need to wonder, or to worry if the sword was heavier than Ky’s own – he took it easily, flipping the blade around as the larger Gear swooped down, roaring. Ky twisted away, diving back into the clouds, and this time when the creature rose up again, it was alone, and even Sol could not see where the knight had gone. A moment of actual confusion passed across the twisted features, the Gear letting out a small, puzzled cry – and maybe, just maybe, there was fear as well.

Ky swooped up from underneath, bringing the sword around with such power that Sol could feel the force of the blow from where he stood. Aiming for the throat, but he damn near split it in two, all the way up one side. One blow was enough to finish the job, even as Ky arced upward, letting his wings curve until the wind did not support him, suspended for one moment in midair.

Sol could see the Gear buckle and fold beneath him, wings crumpling as whatever the hell had flowed in its veins drained out into the sky, Johnny cursing as more than a little splattered across the deck of his ship. Ky was nothing if not a meticulous bastard, though – broken wasn’t dead, and falling wasn’t fallen. With a roar of triumph Ky folded his wings and dove, Fuenken pointed straight down, slamming deep into the Gear’s skull.

Sol rushed to the edge, watched them fall – the Gear’s wings obscuring his view as it twisted in the air, spasming in its death throes, and he couldn’t see if Ky had gotten free. Johnny was shouting orders to the girls, May poised on one edge of her oversized weapon, rocking next to him and chewing nervously on her lip. She hadn’t been alive for the worst of the Crusades, to trust knowing when a Gear was dead, couldn’t smell death in the air. Two mortal blows in a matter of moments – and send that victory back to the bastards who thought they would retrieve Ky so easily, or cover up their mistake. Sol waited, glaring at the clouds as if enhanced eyesight meant he could see through them, half-ready to jump to where he thought the knight had gone. If Ky gotten caught somehow, if he hadn’t been able to get out of the way, when the creature had fallen...

A cheer rose up from behind him, and Sol snapped around just in time to see Ky land - awkwardly, stumbling and dropping Fuenken to the deck, sword landing with a bloody splash, soaked with gore from end to end. The knight fell to his knees an instant later, wings tucked tightly against his back, right hand curled around his left side, blood trickling between claws – no, fingers, and he’d made that shift surprisingly fast. Human looking, beside the wings, even if his eyes seemed a bit brighter, brilliant and blank with impending shock, as the rest of him finally caught up with all that he’d done.

April reached him first, kneeling down, one hand carefully touching the span of his wing – she could have no idea, how much the simple gesture meant. How much it would mean to Ky, that she was not afraid. Despite the pain, Sol could see the knight’s eyes widen in surprise, staring at her in startled disbelief.

“You are never touching my sword again.” Sol growled, dropping to one knee as April stepped back, immediately dragged off again by May. He could smell smoke coming from somewhere, knew the deck had taken more than one good hit, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it might have been. Because of Ky, who was trembling now, panting for air. “You all right?”

“So,” He laughed breathlessly around a weird little smile. “I flew.”

Sol laughed, couldn’t help it. “You didn’t think you could?”

“I wasn’t sure.” He wasn’t joking, either. Ky had taken that plunge without hesitation, without question, because if he hadn’t, the girl would have died. “I thought that, you know, /probably/...”

“Goddamn boy scout.” The first time he’d said it, he’d had to explain the term to Ky, to make sure he was properly insulted. He reached a hand down, across the knight’s chest to help him stand, and Ky fell into him, claws in his arm, burying a hoarse cry in his sleeve. “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s ok.” Ky’s voice was shaky, but he breathed out, and in, slowly, and Sol stayed where he was. “... feels like I ripped out every muscle in my chest.” He lifted his head, blinking blearily. “The... the girls? Are they all right?”

“Everyone’s fine.” Sol swallowed, fighting with the adrenaline still surging through him. Stupid as it was, he wished he’d gotten a chance to fight. “You didn’t bring your sword.”

“I left it behind. I didn’t think... wasn’t sure I could hold onto it.”

A hard admission for Ky to make – that he hadn’t intended to fight this, hadn’t been sure that he could, but then the girl had fallen and that was it. No time left for doubts or fears.

“You’re an idiot.”

Sol’s words, or they would have been, but Johnny was glowering down at them, shaking his head. He probably should have been worried about the attention they’d called to themselves, or the danger they were in with two rogue Gears aboard, or the damage done to his ship. Instead, there was something a great deal like pride and maybe even amusement in his expression – he was a pirate, after all, and this had been authority-defying and death-defying all in one go – not such a bad afternoon’s work.

“You’re both idiots, and I’m charging double for this.”

 

He strode away quickly, shouting orders, and Sol could feel the whole ship vibrate, engines roaring as they picked up speed and altitude. He reached out to steady Ky, as his wings caught in the rising wind. The other man barely seemed to notice, flinching a little, attention turned fully inward.

“... can’t pull them back. Side hurts – hurts too much to focus.”

He shifted his hand against his blood-soaked side, but Sol could see beneath the shredded fabric – already healing, would likely be healed before they could get below deck.

“Don’t worry about it.” He tucked his own arm lower around Ky’s waist, supporting the other man’s weight, somehow managing to get them both through the narrow door without crushing Ky’s wings or tripping on them. The knight seemed to be doing better with every step, not at all pale or out of breath – though he seemed a little flinchy, wouldn’t look at Sol. Guilt, maybe, still feeling shame for the change even though it had saved a life – possibly several lives.

He tightened his grip as they moved down the stairs, heard Ky gasp, very softly, felt him tense – and finally understood. A little rumble of agreement, from the Gear in him – all that excitement and he’d hardly gotten any action at all. Unfair, that he still couldn’t put it to good use.

“You all right?” He murmured, could not quite keep the amusement out of his voice. The knight quivered like a plucked string, and did not look up. Sol could see his tail lash back and forth, betraying him.

“We have to go, Sol. It isn’t safe.”

“The hell we will.”

Not with three heavy steel doors between them and the outside world, all of Johnny’s crew far too busy to give a damn about them – and Ky so agitated he hadn’t even figured out what Sol had realized, glaring at him. For a moment only one of his eyes was even human, though Sol was starting to see less and less of a difference there, and hadn’t ever cared much except for Ky’s sake.

“Do you /ever/ listen to me?”

“No, because you’re /never/ right!” Sol let his sword clunk to the floor, pulled off the belt and let it fall – Ky was ranting now, not looking and not noticing and god - god how could someone so smart be so completely stupid?

“-irresponsible behavior, I can’t imagine how the hell you survived the Crusades, no matter what you are.”

“Instinct.”

Ky gasped, as Sol grabbed an arm, pushed him back against the wall and kissed him, hard. He hoped he hadn’t bent a wing the wrong way, and the scent of Ky’s blood shouldn’t have been any kind of turn-on, but the Gear was smiling with his mouth – Ky was fine, the blood-smell nothing dangerous, and he raked his fingertips up beneath the shredded shirt just to make sure, finding only flawless skin and muscle and Ky moaning softly against him, even as his claws dug into the steel just to the right of Sol’s ear. He snickered at Ky’s alarmed look.

“You think you can scare me away with that? You’re not even trying.”

He smirked, letting his hands roam wherever they wanted – everything he’d always thought about touching - and enjoying the way Ky couldn’t quite catch his breath or gather his thoughts for what would certainly be a furious answer. Still fighting for control, still believing it was the only path he had.

“We can’t... I can’t...”

Sol snorted. “You never took any vows, Kiske. I should know, I wore the uniform too. Honor and loyalty and bravery and something about insanity – but chastity wasn’t in there, or no one would have joined.”

A glare, though it melted at the edges, as Sol turned, pinning him against the wall, pressing their bodies together.

“We had to simplify it for you. Cut out... cut out the parts we knew you’d never agree to.”

Ky’s eyes were so bright, and there was desire there, rare as anything for how little he thought of himself, needs and wants buried beneath an altruism that had nearly killed him. He’d allowed himself to be subsumed completely beneath the will of the state – maybe necessary, in the days of the Crusades, but it was infinitely easier to step into that role than step out of it again. He’d been their property long before this – and worse, Ky had allowed himself to believe it.

“So what do you think, Kiske...” He purred – popped the button on the top of Ky’s pants or maybe just tore it off. “How does it feel, being free?”

“This isn’t–” Ky snarled, pushing him away, frustration making his wings shiver to the tips. Sol stumbled backward, heard something break – a chair, perhaps – before he hit the other wall, laughing. Hard not to, with Ky staring at him so indignantly. “It’s not real. It’s a damned Gear thing, just like all the rest of it.”

Sol shook his head. “Now you’re just reaching. You think that’s the real reason Justice took up the Crusade? She just wanted to cuddle?”

“Go to hell.”

One of the only people to ever make Ky Kiske swear, and Sol wore it like a badge of honor.

“Been there, this is better.” He grinned, and wondered how far he could push this, before Ky just gave up and electrocuted him. “Why are you so sure you’re even my type?”

Sol was down well before he could stop laughing, and even with his cheek pressed against the floor and Ky straddling his back Sol knew he had the upper hand. The room was large enough to allow for a bit of rough-and-tumble, but they’d already managed to heat things up – he was sweating, scent mingling with Ky’s in the air, providing a pleasant inevitability to things. Fine tremors in the hands that were pressed against his back, though he knew it wasn’t fear or pain now as Ky leaned down. Sol could feel the knight’s breath against the back of his neck, Ky struggling against himself so hard Sol could almost hear it.

//Now?// The Gear prowling in the back of his thoughts, nearly whining with frustration, not enjoying the submissive position or the fact that nothing was coming of it. It knew what it wanted – and more importantly, that he wanted the same thing.

//Sure. Rock and roll.//

A great deal more furniture broke apart in the next few minutes, and he was glad the engine noise drowned out everything else. Not every one of their fights had been a matter of repressed passions – Ky was still a patronizing, stuck-up little shit, and he always would be – but there was something pleasantly familiar about this battle, even if they’d abandoned words for snarling, mostly half-muffled around each others tongues. It wasn’t pretty, or particularly elegant, but it got the job done.

Sol kept expecting Ky to rip his clothes off – literally, and draw blood in the process – but the holy knight’s rough-and-tumble had only gone so far. Letting him lead, finally answering that question of dominance – although he didn’t feel like he had much to prove, and Ky – Ky was not the only one, to choose denial as the easy route. Say what he wanted about freedom, it had been a long time since he’d really let himself go.

Ky tasted wonderful, warm and soft – everything about the holy warrior surprisingly yielding, the smooth texture of his hair tangled in Sol’s fingers, the give, wherever Sol felt like touching. He should have done this years ago. A swell of amused resentment from that other half of him – if he’d listened to the part of him that knew better, he would have.

 

“I won’t... I won’t let this win.” Except it was a lost cause, they both knew it. “Damn you.”

Sol laughed, hot against his skin, pleased to feel Ky tremble, losing ground against himself, twisting to press against him whenever he moved. He leaned down, licked the glowing mark, smirked at the low growl it provoked.

“Let it out, you idiot. I can take it. It’s the part of you that saved Johnny’s girl, and probably the rest of them too. It’s the part of you that won the damn Crusades when all of hell was up against you. They can’t take that from you – it’s what you are, all the way down. If they thought they could change that, could make it what they wanted – they’re as stupid as you-.”

Ky cut him off, nipping at his throat, not nearly enough to draw blood, but he still jerked back, obviously shocked with himself. Sol gave him no time to regret it, crushing their mouths together again. No need for any more words – or so he’d thought.

“Ah, Sol... /please/...”

Who knew? Who knew, after all the bitching and the fighting and the wishing Ky knew how to shut up, certain he’d heard everything of value the other man could ever say - that one soft plea could leave him so breathless. Sol drew back, just for a moment, drinking him in, Ky’s eyes half-lidded with pleasure, flickering between humanity and that other, more primal instinct. Sol knew he’d had it in him, had always known –

The second-to-last thought Sol bothered having was that they weren’t going to bother getting up off the floor, and continue this on the bed, even if it was the only piece of furniture still intact.

The last coherent thought was that they’d have to sneak out in the morning. He definitely did not have the cash to cover what was left of the room, even considering the bed.

--------------------------------

Sol rolled over lazily, the sun baking a long rectangle of skin on his stomach, and Ky’s bare back. He’d never thought much about how Ky slept, but never would have guessed the Holy Knight could sprawl even more than he did – and facedown, to boot.

 

He stretched out a hand, sliding one finger across the back of a pale, perfect thigh, up to the base of the long tail that lay curled, curving up over the inside of his left knee. Ky had gained a great deal of control over the past few months, but in the throes of passion, Sol could still almost always make him pop the tail, much to the other man’s endlessly entertaining irritation. It twitched slightly now, as Sol scratched lightly at the base – sensitive spots all over, and Ky didn’t even realize he had half of them, until Sol got curious.

He watched Ky’s shoulders rise, toes curling as he stretched, a predictable frown on his face as he rolled on his side, yanking the blankets up.

“It’s early, and you’re still drunk.”

“I’m never drunk,” Sol leered back. “It’s just easier to get you to agree to things when I fake it.”

“I hate you.” Partially negated, by the way the other man leaned into Sol’s touch, rumbling a little, fingertips flexing a bit against his arm. No worries about the claws – he only did that when he meant to, these days.

One month had passed, all that had really changed was that he’d discovered it was possible for them to have a rather impressive amount of sex without killing each other in the interim. He wondered if Ky was surprised as he was. He wondered about a certain commander’s orders, throwing them together during the Crusades.

“Kliff Undersen is a total pervert.”

Ky gave him a look that was all his own – Sol had quite a few looks that the knight didn’t seem to need for other people. Half confusion, and half exasperation, that not only was Sol an incomprehensible idiot but if he ever did start making sense, Ky would have to put a sword through him.

“Did you get any information last night?”

Ky still didn’t go out much – sensible, considering his current status – and he was still touchy in crowds, too much to take in all at once. Sol had done the lion’s share of the information gathering, which he hadn’t minded, as it meant he got to do the lion’s share of the inevitable brawling as well.

“Coded message from the Bureau, though a contact. Still looking for you – asking to negotiate.”

He felt Ky tense, let a hand slowly run along his back to steady him. No press of wings against his palm – the knight’s control continued to improve, fewer nightmares – and hopefully, not as many reasons to lie about it, as he once had. His voice was still taut, restrained – it had been a betrayal, and those wounds were still fresh.

“So the Bureau wants to talk?”

“Trap.” Sol rolled over, burying his face in a pillow. “Definitely a trap.”

“So we go, then.”

“Oh shit yes, of course. You had something better to do?”

Ky snorted, rolling up against him, and Sol grinned, even though he had everything in the world to worry about, and very little in his favor. He still felt invincible.

“I might as well try to be the voice of reason, not that you listen to anything anyway.” He quirked an eyebrow, one of those amused little smirks Sol had thought him incapable of, not so long ago, and his tail thumped against Sol’s leg. “How well do you think those robots can handle lightning?”

“About as well as they handle fire.” Sol smiled, letting it all play out in his mind. “So, breakfast first, go see a movie – and then we’ll destroy the government.”

=================================

Author’s Notes –

1. Cliché cliché cliché cliché cliché cliché cliché screaming cliché cliché cliché out of character wank cliché cliché bad sex scene cliché inevitable heat-death of universe cliché finale.

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