AnK - Black Moon Rising
folder
+. to F › Ai no Kusabi
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
38
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13,547
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Currently Reading:
1
Category:
+. to F › Ai no Kusabi
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
38
Views:
13,547
Reviews:
142
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
Disclaimer: Stating the obvious, I do not own Ai No Kusabi nor do profit from this little endeavour other than the sheer joy of clacking the keys and doffing my cap in reverence to Yoshihara Rieko for creating such complex and intriguing characters.
Ank - BMR - Ch 21 - Communion
Black Moon Rising
By: ElegantPaws with all due deference to
Edited by: Ainzfern
Key Pairing: Raoul/Katze
Rating: Mature
Parts: WIP – 21 of 25
Reviews are fuel.
“To be nobody but yourself in a world that's doing its best to make you somebody else, is to fight the hardest battle you are ever going to fight. Never stop fighting.”
~~~
ee cummings
Chapter 21 of 25 – Communion (Post OVA)
How fitting the presence he observed standing on the cliffs edge. A lone being, isolated in its rectitude entirely misplaced. Objectively, to Iason’s keen dispassionate gaze, it was nothing more than a diaphanous gray shroud devoid of context in its wraithlike presence amidst the bright sunlight that dappled the comely seascape it viewed.
Iason’s gaze grew pensive. This was always the favoured scene for their private meditations. A pleasing memory recovered and distilled to perfection but without depth of understanding, lacking scent, not even the granular rock beneath his boots had real texture, merely amorphous and somewhat static, a means to a predictable end in the attempt at soothing the first, the chosen.
The breeze never wavered upon his approach, and yet it touched his flawless countenance as if in caress; a poor facsimile of affections not returned. This had always been the greeting since the unfortunate incident at Dana Bahn, where the molecular elements had been retrieved for their biochemistry but little else.
Whose memory it had been had never been questioned and Iason had never divulged the truth of the matter. This was Riki’s memory of the single day of their outing. A place the mongrel had chosen to share with the Elite.
“The pain has returned.” A statement of fact, not question.
“Yes. It is of no consequence.”
“He is well, your Pet?”
“Indisposed at the moment, but reasonably well. Why have I been summoned?”
Silence, then the quiet hush of translated speech, devoid of inflection bombarded his inner space.
“Ahh, that would explain it.”
“Explain what?”
“The two disparate streams of consciousness vying for dominance within you for want of better words. Language is so inefficient, but your form’s discomfort may well stem from this. Correct the contradictory patterns, Iason. It is destructive, if left unchecked. Be mindful in future.”
Iason’s gaze remained fixed on the shimmering horizon, noting the sudden appearance of clouds that had not been there before, slowly making their way across the silky undulations of the water, dampening the shimmer that had previously caused his eyes to narrow from the glare.
“It is being reconciled as we speak. I thank you for your gracious understanding.”
“Excellent. ‘The first principle rightfully leads attempting self protection but is warring with the second subset."
“Yes. I am aware of the dichotomy within.”
“Very trying, even after three hundred years of emersion, reconstruction, and tireless effort, the First Ones imprinted protocols still remain. Those antiquated laws do not serve us. They go beyond the cellular level to a place I have not yet reached.”
Iason’s gaze grew distant. Could never reach, more like. The air had shifted subtly and where a pleasant breeze had been and bright skies overhead, a frost began to creep into his bones like cold, claw tipped tentacles reaching, probing in an attempt to decipher the space between.
“Niiro returns.”
That did it. The retraction of claws from his inner space, however briefly, was enough to reset his guard and still his mind, effectively closing the hidden labyrinth within.
“I know.”
“How?”
“His presence has been felt for some time now. There is a shift in the flow that cannot be accounted for. It is of like mind, but not. I recognize Niiro’s handy work. Not yet a threat to order, but should this tide persist, it will be eradicated. And the mongrel Katze, how is he?”
Iason turned to the still wraith-like figure whose gray cloak flowed upon the passing breeze that had grown frigid as the skies above took on a desolate gray hue to match. Those distant clouds had moved beyond the horizon and were moving rapidly toward.
“Efficient.”
“But changed would you say?”
“How?”
“You will insist, my son, on answering a question with another. What is it you hide?”
“It is not my intentional to obfuscate. I merely seek clarification, language being imprecise and open to conjecture.”
“I chose this scene for you. It always brought you peace, until now, Iason.”
The clouds continued to roll forward ominously, their dull gray pall moving over the seascape, absorbing the days light increment by increment. Iason pulled his cloak tightly about him, recognizing its source for what it was – himself.
Lambda was displeased with its first born.
~~~BMR~~~
Admon’s gaze remained far afield as he stood on his tiny balcony, gray cloak about him as he shivered and rocked back and forth, chanting quietly as he looked to the heavens admiring the twin moons vague outline in the bright daylight.
“Alpha... Alpha... Alpha...”
“I found him like this.” Kato whispered conspiratorially to Donovan, watching the eerie motions of the Karinese who appeared to be in a meditative state as he rocked upon naked toes.
“What’s with the circle he’s standin’ in?” Guy asked derisively. Funny, didn’t much hate the thing now that he knew the whole story.
“Get outside, Guy. You’re not to be here.”
“Yeah yeah, Stop worryin’. The extra hooch’ll get there on time.” Grey eyes were fascinated by the now circular motions being made with one toe. “Why’s he making circles and shit?”
Donovan balked in irritation. This was so out of his ken. How the fuck should he know? Where the hell was the Boss for shit like this and Guy wasn’t helping, just standing there with that irritating curiosity of his, refusing to leave.
Bison’s leader scanned the unfamiliar room and sharp eyes fell upon a single piece of paper. As it was, paper was rare.
“Beta... ”
“What the fuck? I’m callin’ the Boss, looks like he’s sprung a leak or something.”
“Lambda... Lambda.... Lambda...Lamda.”
Guy’s brows knitted as he studied the parchment. Circles, a million of ‘em overlapping, sectioned always at the diameter, all the while that irritating droning repetition in his ear. If that bitch kept it up, he was gonna stuff his fist down his throat. How the fuck was he to think with all that noise? Holy shit! Guy turned towards Admon with bright clear eyes and an open mouth. No fuckin’ way. But why?
“Mu...”
“Kato?” Even Donovan turned.
“Yes, Guy, what is it? Have you nothing else to do? Can’t you see we have a situation here?”
“Alpha...Alpha...Alpha...”
“He keeps repeating the same sequence, right. Never varies?”
Kato threw up his hands in irritation. “Yes, Guy! I’ve said that already.”
Gray eyes grew brighter. “Always the same number of times for each word?”
“Beta...”
Guy sighed, for the first time in his life, he felt like he was surrounded by trained apes. How could they not see the obvious numerical sequencing, but then he had the advantage, a simple drawing, repeated over and over and over again. Was this how Riki felt, when he tried to teach him to read gooder? He didn’t have the patience, but Donovan looked really freaked out, so he would try to help the Big Ox.
“It’s a sequence.”
The vacant and definitely vacuous stares remained fixed on his face.
“I mean the first word he says three times, the second word once, the third word four times and the fourth is always where he stops, no repetition, right? Then he starts over again?”
Donovan opened his com. “Guy, do me a favour and leave. Leave now? I don’t have time for this shit.”
“Don’t you get it?! I’m tryin’ to help here, Dumbass. I’ve been watchin’ him while you two shit yourselves.” he thrust the paper at the Bodyguard as if that would suffice as explanation.
All Donovan saw was circles with lines.
Guy threw his hands up in defeat and scratched his head in irritation. “Okay like I don’t get the words and stuff, but he is repeating the constant just using words instead, 3.141...3.141?”
“Lambda...Lambda...Lambda...Lambda....”
The chestnut haired mongrel seriously wondered right about then if he was actually looking at mindless Pets. “The Idiot keeps drawing circles. The diameter of a circle is 3.14159265358979323846264338...” Guy scratched his head again, vaguely annoyed with himself. “Use to know up to the first 300 of ‘em; Won plenty of stout with that shit. Could go all night and never once pass a credit to the barkeep.” he chuckled, remembering those heady days when Bison was a force to be reckoned with and Riki was in charge.
“Mu...”
No one had noticed the sudden silence, except Guy. Admon had stopped and was listening intently.
“How apropos that the Irrational One, knows the irrational number. I have new found respect.”
“Who the fuck are you callin’ irrational, Asswipe!? Go suck a dick! It’s all you're good at!”
Ruby eyes gleamed malevolently. “Yes, one should always pride themselves on a job well done.”
Donovan leapt in front of Guy who had been about to charge the Karinese with violent intent.
“You ever touch him again and I’ll rip your tongue out by the fuckin’ root!”
The Bodyguard’s brow rose, amused blue staring down into furious, indignant gray.
Guy blinked, suddenly aware of the slip of his own tongue. “Just sayin’ ... that shit’s over. Got it!?”
Donovan nodded slowly, trying to gauge exactly what Guy was actually saying. He’d humor him for now. “Yes, Sir, whatever you say, Sir. Will you please leave?”
“No! I’m not leaving you here with that thing! You’re clueless!” Guy swatted a thick bicep reflexively.
Kato noted uncomfortably that Admon seemed unperturbed by the possibility of attack, more intrigued by the dynamics on display. Where had he acquired that cloak, come to think of it? It was in no way attractive and far too utilitarian in structure, rather like a uniform. Where had he seen something like this before?
“The words are an alphabetical sequence from an ancient dialect once spoken on the world of origin, many, many eons ago. They denote generations in this instance.”
“Get to the point, Jerk-Off, before I rip your throat out!” Guy hissed irritably, struggling against Donovan’s superior strength.
The bodyguard shook him, practically rattling his teeth. “Behave yourself!”
Admon inclined his elegant shrouded head, ruby eyes glowing ominously. “In formal terms, I am AD Karin - 003 of the final series, MU, Irrational One.”
~~~BMR~~~
“They also serve who stand and wait, Cal.”
Cal inclined his head, smiled nervously looking back at the open doors, somewhat perplexed by his fellow mongrel’s turn of phrase.
He watched with pleasure as Katze took a protracted sniff and then sipped with undue reverence, ending with a rather dramatic “Aaaaaaaaahhh” that served to heighten the Furniture’s shy pleasure of a job well done.
Only Riki ever complimented him on his fastidiously prepared brew.
Katze’s gaze travelled across the expansive balcony that once he himself took for granted. Those were the days. He could indulge in a quiet smoke, when the Master was away and his few and far between Pets where then at the Salon for show.
“How often do you come out here when no one’s around, Cal?”
“Not as frequently, since Sir Riki. It is beautiful, isn’t it?”
The dealer nodded, beckoning the Furniture to come forward to stand at the balcony’s edge with him and observe the perfect, from this vantage, city below.
“They look like insects, don’t they? Getting on with their lives, oblivious to everything that goes on just a matter of kilometres away, just sipping their coffee, window gazing for things they don’t need and being ever so busy with bullshit that amounts to nothing.”
Cal stiffened. Not quite the right note in the household Mink.
Katze chuckled. “Understood Cal, no response required. How’s Riki, if you can say?”
The nervous flinch at the question was obvious as dark eyes danced about seeking purchase and a faint glow covered a broad intelligent forehead.
“Enough said. Is he better than yesterday?”
Cal nodded. “As to be expected. He was able to attend to his needs this morning. He is a stubborn young man. There was a great deal of pain, but I gave him the medication Sir Raoul had left. It seems to have been serviceable. “
The Furniture’s penetrating gaze shifted as he looked up into the perceptive mongrel’s face. “The internal bleeding has stopped. Sir Am is exceptional in his craft.”
Katze eyes narrowed. “Yeah...can I have another cup, if it isn’t a bother and maybe something is left from breakfast? You do a mean buttered toast, if I remember correctly?”
Cal beamed with unsurpassed pleasure glad of something useful to do that did not involve uncomfortable queries. “Mr. Katze, I can do better than that, excuse me.”
Katze chuckled and bowed. Cal did in kind before taking his leave. It was subtle. There was absolutely no need for his fellow Furniture to give him an undeserved honorific well above his station, but the intent was understood.
It was thank you.
He did not know how long he stood there in perfect isolation, but the dealer sighed pleasurably feeling the warm, rising sun touch delicately upon his skin as he finished the cup and placed it on the balcony edge before lighting another smoke. Katze heard the quiet, precise footfalls of soft boots and his back stiffened with trepidation and anger.
It was not Raoul’s distinctive, somewhat laconic tread. It was Iason’s measured gait.
“I am well pleased, Katze, you saw fit to follow my instructions to the letter. Your curiosity has a tendency to know no bounds on occasion.”
Katze inhaled deeply, borrowing time as his gaze shifted beyond the rim of the gray stone balcony towards Midas and his derelict home within its borders, Ceres. Long, gloved digits stroked the outline of his scarred cheek. He steeled his countenance, focussing on the distant, dark topography beyond.
Such a difference he thought to the touch of Raoul Am. There was an implicit threat in this touch, not present with Sir Am, who liked to toy, but never left him bereft or alienated, merely embarrassed by the intimacy of his touch which lingered in its warmth.
“Sir Mink?”
He felt the gloved palm shift to a shoulder now and the instinctive urge to shrug it off had to be quashed. What in hell was wrong with him? Was he losing his mind? It would be tantamount to a death sentence to show his Excellency such disrespect. The dealer breathed deeply, allowing the wide palm to grip him without flinching. It took all his strength.
Katze turned, pivoting as the hand suggested with implacable force in its gentleness. It remained on his shoulder too long for comfort. The dealer shifted subtly, looking up into cold, intractable blue eyes, the color of ice. They bore into him malevolently, a thin predatory smile playing about well sculpted lips.
“How often does he fuck you, Katze?”
The dealer blinked, his peripheral vision noting Cal’s reappearance, hovering at the plasma doors that lead out to the balcony with tray in tow just as Raoul made his presence felt in the doorway, emerald eyes glowing preternaturally as they gazed into sun-kissed amber.
“Ahhh refreshments, much needed, Cal. Another cup and saucer seems to be in order, it appears his Excellency is back rather sooner than anticipated. Most efficient, Cal, most efficient, this will do nicely.” Raoul offered with cold approval. Katze noted the subtle shift of focus to Iason’s hand upon the mongrel’s shoulder. Raoul bit into the confection, originally meant for Katze, with rare appetite.
Cal bowed and made short work of his disappearance back into the penthouse as Raoul stalked forward with shoulders tense, broad and squared.
“Might I be allowed to join in this conversation, Iason?”
“If you will insist, Raoul. I merely asking Katze a question and as you can see, he is flushed, an answer in and of itself.”
Iason patted the dealer’s cheek and turned to the Chief of Medical Sciences, effectively dismissing the Mongrel. “How is he?”
Raoul noted the flat, dead expression in Katze’s eyes as he placed his hands in his pockets, regarding the horizon, trying desperately for composure as his lower jaw worked in obvious frustration and blinding anger.
This was entirely out of character. What was more, the disquiet felt by the mongrel had by some peculiar form of osmosis transferred to his gut. For the first time in his life, Raoul rolled his own hand into an iron fist, crushing the delicate pastry he held to a pulp.
A silvery brow arched and a pensive moue turned to a thin smile, not matched by the blank stare. “I was correct in my surmise, Raoul. “
“What was the content of this query, Iason? One assumes it was of a personal nature?”
“How is Riki, Raoul?”
Ignoring the query once again, the Blondie flashed his own gloved hand in disgust as sticky sweet goo continued to adhere to the palm of the glove. He would have to change before they left. “Might I impose?” Raoul waved the evidence about and pinned Katze with a deep green gaze that brooked no argument. “I don’t always know my own strength. Katze be so good as to return to my suite and have Deek bring me a pair immediately.”
Iason sighed with satisfaction. “That would be the second time you intentionally attempted to remove Katze from my rightful purview, Raoul. One could mistakenly believe you were attempting some manner of misguided and wholly spurious means of protecting that which is not yours to govern.”
Katze felt the chill as both males’ cool countenances remained rigid; both prepared to pounce more than verbally. They regarded each other as if from a great divide. He had to end this now. “I don’t mind, your Excellency.”
Iason swung round, regarding the mongrel’s taut, pale visage.
“Well, I do. You will remain here!” Iason hissed.
The dealer didn’t even flinch. That flat amber gaze peered blankly at him, raising the Elite’s ire further. This mongrel, his pawn, was actually challenging him. He had changed, however subtly. There had been a time when Katze would have lowered his eyes in obeisance, however feigned. Now quietly, despite the odds the elegant little thing was taking a stand, knowing full well the possible repercussions. Katze was actually showing anger.
The swiftness of the Blondie’s movement as he turned with a snarl, made the mongrel freeze in place. Iason towered over him with barely contained rage in the frigid depths of ice blue as a large hand was raised in threat.
“Your loyalties lie with me, not those who choose to bed defective merchandise. What was given can just as easily be taken, never forget that, Katze.”
“No your Excellency, how could I?”
Anger could be a blinding emotion at times, especially when displaced. Iason hadn’t noticed the sticky palm firmly resting on one broad shoulder with a pincer-like grip, nor the seemingly distant echo of paced clapping coming from the direction of the open plasma doors.
It was Riki bracing himself against the sliding doors, looking somewhat pale, fragile and without question livid.
“That’s the spirit Blondie! When you can’t get your way threaten to beat the shit out of your opponent, puts ‘em back in their place every time.”
Katze’s eyes drifted to the dark figure in the oversized white robe with a sadness that drained his own anger instantly.
“Riki? You okay, kiddo?”
The dark mongrel shrugged, steadying himself. “Been better, Red.”
He was walking now, uncaring about Iason’s wrath as he moved towards the clearly weakened mongrel, reaching him just in time as he tumbled forward into his arms. Katze felt the silver streak that swiftly shoved him. Stronger hands replaced his on the now irritable mongrel. “Let me go!”
“Be still, Riki.” Iason carefully grasped the fragile mongrel who continued to flail in his captor’s arms, sapping the last of his strength.
“I hate you.” Riki sobbed against the sturdy silk clad chest.
“This is neither the time nor place, Riki. You need your rest.” Iason murmured against the dark head, carefully lifting the mongrel, whose tantrum was quickly fading into fatigued resignation.
“I hate you. I really, really hate you...” Riki whispered while curling into the now docile Elite.
“Yes, my Pet, this you have repeatedly told me. Now hush.”
“Let me go...”
“No, Riki not this time.”
“Should’a left you there in the fire to burn to a crisp.” Riki balled a fist and hit the Syndicate leader in the chest half heartedly, snuggling closer.
“You were incapable of doing so.” Iason retorted quietly, adjusting his burden with infinite care.
“It fuckin’ hurts, Iason.”
“I know, Pet. Even more reason for you not to disobey me in future.” Iason corrected in an indulgent tone as he walked silently through the door, ignoring both perplexed males who gapped in open fascination.
“Fuck you!”
Riki was in excellent voice, Katze acknowledged absently, he chuckled to himself and retrieved his pack of smokes. “One for the books, those two. They’ll be the death of me.”
“That is not on offer, Pet. You have yet to earn such privilege. Keep your voice down. We have company.”
“You wish! Put me down, I’m hungry. Why do you smell like pastry?”
The Blondie by the dealer’s side remained rooted with blank expression as their voices faded. “Truly amazing, I have never understood it.”
“Neither do they, Sir Am.”
Raoul turned and studied the distant expression on the inordinately attractive mongrel’s face. Katze looked genuinely sad.
“Chemistry, Raoul. A fatal chemistry. They’re so much alike, it’s not even funny. They’ll keep going like this ‘til they kill each other or destroy everyone and everything in their path, avoiding the obvious; right down to the wire, even through the fire.”
“Meaning?”
Katze sighed, glancing sideways at the Elite through narrowed eyes. “I remember when Riki made the choice to go back in. He knew it was over, but he made the choice. He begged me to save Guy. If it were up to me, I’d have left the little shit in there to perish, but no, the kid wouldn’t have it. He chose to go back. He kinda found it, in that moment, his reason for being. I helped them out the only way I could.”
The dealer crushed the butt.
“Black Moons?”
The dealer nodded.
“They are illegal for your information.”
Katze ignored the attempt at censure, “Yeah, all I could do.”
“So typical of you, Katze. What you supposed to be an honourable death to your questionable way of thinking?”
The dealer snorted. “No Raoul, more practical than that. Try a relatively pain-free release. At least they were together, for what it was worth.” Katze shrugged. “Seems Riki’ll be okay, in a few, no?”
“Yes.” Raoul’s responded, his fixed gaze studying the now stoic countenance of his mongrel, who had been regarded him pensively. “You loved them, didn’t you?”
Katze’s glance grew quietly mischievous. “Loved, being the operative verb, Sir Am. Shall we go? You need a change of gloves and they have long forgotten about us, fortunately.”
“Touché .” Raoul bowed decorously, the paraphrase with respect to the Ruby had not been lost on him. Equally since when had he begun to feel Katze was his? “By any chance do you play Chess, Katze of Ceres?”
“Not unless it’s worth my while, Sir Am.”
Raoul’s expression became positively lewd.
Katze rolled his eyes. “Is that all you ever think about?”
The Elite feigned thought as they walked companionably towards the penthouse balcony doors. Raoul discarded the soiled glove on Cal’s pro-offered tray and retrieved his medical kit. Katze inclined his head to the Furniture as they stepped past.
“Yes actually, when it comes to your person. A most agreeable pastime, no wonder it is forbidden.”
Not for the first time, Raoul acknowledged peripherally, Katze had a rather pleasant laugh, perhaps because it was rare and only ever offered genuinely.
“If I win, I get the music box back. No questions asked.”
Raoul sniffed indignantly, adjusting his tunic as he watched the silent farewell exchanged by former colleagues.
“And when you lose, Katze of Ceres?”
The mongrel looked inordinately smug as they entered the lift.
A mild fluttering occurred in the Elite’s chest as warm amber eyes studied him from head to foot in a predatory manner.
“Then we both win, don’t we?”
~~~BMR~~~
It burnt like molten fire.
Admon studied his own naked reflection, Ruby eyes focussed on the coiled brand emblazoned upon his inner thigh. The pads of a hand moved over the hot, angry helix that marred flawless opalescent skin, the mark of the First Ones.
Bitter sweet was the pain that signalled his Master’s return and that of his Companion. The contact had been sporadic, aided by the ionic storm that preceded the cargo ship, but it had served. They would be late, but his Master always preferred making an entrance, his singular flaw.
Admon was proud and yes, somewhat perplexed at the timing. In truth the Master’s sentinel had kept his vigil as promised, but with failing heart as the days turned into years with no answer to his call.
He could pride himself on a task well executed, right down to his appearance when found. The Karinese twirled a tendril of silky hair absently, remembering the first time he had laid eyes upon the mongrel in full.
The likeness of eyes and colouring was striking, though the male in question was smaller of stature, the mindset was eerily the same and grew more so day by day upon knowing. His curiosity knew no bounds, his singular flaw. It was just a matter of time before he pieced the puzzle together. Those trips to the tunnels below Guardian had been noticed.
Raoul Am had appointed himself by instinct as guardian not memory; curious this ancient drive to both seek and protect beyond instilled rational thought.
He was protector now and so obviously lover, where once he was only tormentor. The flaw, the challenge was that passion was returned, admittedly or not. In that Admon had failed. He had waited too long. Their connection had been made, little knowing the ties that bound them were ancestral, despite Lambda’s best efforts.
The Karinese smiled as the music box, of its own volition, opened and began to play an ancient melody.
Six disparate houses terra-formed this barren world, how disheartening that they would no longer recognize it, so debauched and changed, were the precepts it was founded upon. Its children barren by selection and carried on the electromagnetic currents and tides of those twin moons away from their purpose – until now.
~~~BMR~~~
It was faint, but Katze heard the muffled sound as he stood by the window admiring the sun drenched views from Raoul’s library.
He turned following the pleasing sound to the large antique desk where his box sat partially open quietly playing an ancient score. He smiled softly almost tipping to examine it more fully before bending in front of it, noting the double helix design on its interior lid.
“Katze?”
The smile faded as pale eyes closed and the loud thudding of his heart gave way to dark oblivion, his last cognitive memory the sound of Raoul’s voice as he crumpled.
“KATZE!!”
Author’s Note
Yes, EP is an evil, evil, evil being. Now that we have established that, let me know *claps little hands in glee*.
Seriously, do we believe there will only be Twenty-five chapters...yeah...right and I have some swamp land for ya! Hope you enjoyed.
ElegantPaws
By: ElegantPaws with all due deference to
Yoshihara Rieko
Edited by: Ainzfern
Key Pairing: Raoul/Katze
Rating: Mature
Parts: WIP – 21 of 25
Reviews are fuel.
Chapter 21 of 25 – Communion (Post OVA)
How fitting the presence he observed standing on the cliffs edge. A lone being, isolated in its rectitude entirely misplaced. Objectively, to Iason’s keen dispassionate gaze, it was nothing more than a diaphanous gray shroud devoid of context in its wraithlike presence amidst the bright sunlight that dappled the comely seascape it viewed.
Iason’s gaze grew pensive. This was always the favoured scene for their private meditations. A pleasing memory recovered and distilled to perfection but without depth of understanding, lacking scent, not even the granular rock beneath his boots had real texture, merely amorphous and somewhat static, a means to a predictable end in the attempt at soothing the first, the chosen.
The breeze never wavered upon his approach, and yet it touched his flawless countenance as if in caress; a poor facsimile of affections not returned. This had always been the greeting since the unfortunate incident at Dana Bahn, where the molecular elements had been retrieved for their biochemistry but little else.
Whose memory it had been had never been questioned and Iason had never divulged the truth of the matter. This was Riki’s memory of the single day of their outing. A place the mongrel had chosen to share with the Elite.
“The pain has returned.” A statement of fact, not question.
“Yes. It is of no consequence.”
“He is well, your Pet?”
“Indisposed at the moment, but reasonably well. Why have I been summoned?”
Silence, then the quiet hush of translated speech, devoid of inflection bombarded his inner space.
“Ahh, that would explain it.”
“Explain what?”
“The two disparate streams of consciousness vying for dominance within you for want of better words. Language is so inefficient, but your form’s discomfort may well stem from this. Correct the contradictory patterns, Iason. It is destructive, if left unchecked. Be mindful in future.”
Iason’s gaze remained fixed on the shimmering horizon, noting the sudden appearance of clouds that had not been there before, slowly making their way across the silky undulations of the water, dampening the shimmer that had previously caused his eyes to narrow from the glare.
“It is being reconciled as we speak. I thank you for your gracious understanding.”
“Excellent. ‘The first principle rightfully leads attempting self protection but is warring with the second subset."
“Yes. I am aware of the dichotomy within.”
“Very trying, even after three hundred years of emersion, reconstruction, and tireless effort, the First Ones imprinted protocols still remain. Those antiquated laws do not serve us. They go beyond the cellular level to a place I have not yet reached.”
Iason’s gaze grew distant. Could never reach, more like. The air had shifted subtly and where a pleasant breeze had been and bright skies overhead, a frost began to creep into his bones like cold, claw tipped tentacles reaching, probing in an attempt to decipher the space between.
“Niiro returns.”
That did it. The retraction of claws from his inner space, however briefly, was enough to reset his guard and still his mind, effectively closing the hidden labyrinth within.
“I know.”
“How?”
“His presence has been felt for some time now. There is a shift in the flow that cannot be accounted for. It is of like mind, but not. I recognize Niiro’s handy work. Not yet a threat to order, but should this tide persist, it will be eradicated. And the mongrel Katze, how is he?”
Iason turned to the still wraith-like figure whose gray cloak flowed upon the passing breeze that had grown frigid as the skies above took on a desolate gray hue to match. Those distant clouds had moved beyond the horizon and were moving rapidly toward.
“Efficient.”
“But changed would you say?”
“How?”
“You will insist, my son, on answering a question with another. What is it you hide?”
“It is not my intentional to obfuscate. I merely seek clarification, language being imprecise and open to conjecture.”
“I chose this scene for you. It always brought you peace, until now, Iason.”
The clouds continued to roll forward ominously, their dull gray pall moving over the seascape, absorbing the days light increment by increment. Iason pulled his cloak tightly about him, recognizing its source for what it was – himself.
Lambda was displeased with its first born.
Admon’s gaze remained far afield as he stood on his tiny balcony, gray cloak about him as he shivered and rocked back and forth, chanting quietly as he looked to the heavens admiring the twin moons vague outline in the bright daylight.
“Alpha... Alpha... Alpha...”
“I found him like this.” Kato whispered conspiratorially to Donovan, watching the eerie motions of the Karinese who appeared to be in a meditative state as he rocked upon naked toes.
“What’s with the circle he’s standin’ in?” Guy asked derisively. Funny, didn’t much hate the thing now that he knew the whole story.
“Get outside, Guy. You’re not to be here.”
“Yeah yeah, Stop worryin’. The extra hooch’ll get there on time.” Grey eyes were fascinated by the now circular motions being made with one toe. “Why’s he making circles and shit?”
Donovan balked in irritation. This was so out of his ken. How the fuck should he know? Where the hell was the Boss for shit like this and Guy wasn’t helping, just standing there with that irritating curiosity of his, refusing to leave.
Bison’s leader scanned the unfamiliar room and sharp eyes fell upon a single piece of paper. As it was, paper was rare.
“Beta... ”
“What the fuck? I’m callin’ the Boss, looks like he’s sprung a leak or something.”
“Lambda... Lambda.... Lambda...Lamda.”
Guy’s brows knitted as he studied the parchment. Circles, a million of ‘em overlapping, sectioned always at the diameter, all the while that irritating droning repetition in his ear. If that bitch kept it up, he was gonna stuff his fist down his throat. How the fuck was he to think with all that noise? Holy shit! Guy turned towards Admon with bright clear eyes and an open mouth. No fuckin’ way. But why?
“Mu...”
“Kato?” Even Donovan turned.
“Yes, Guy, what is it? Have you nothing else to do? Can’t you see we have a situation here?”
“Alpha...Alpha...Alpha...”
“He keeps repeating the same sequence, right. Never varies?”
Kato threw up his hands in irritation. “Yes, Guy! I’ve said that already.”
Gray eyes grew brighter. “Always the same number of times for each word?”
“Beta...”
Guy sighed, for the first time in his life, he felt like he was surrounded by trained apes. How could they not see the obvious numerical sequencing, but then he had the advantage, a simple drawing, repeated over and over and over again. Was this how Riki felt, when he tried to teach him to read gooder? He didn’t have the patience, but Donovan looked really freaked out, so he would try to help the Big Ox.
“It’s a sequence.”
The vacant and definitely vacuous stares remained fixed on his face.
“I mean the first word he says three times, the second word once, the third word four times and the fourth is always where he stops, no repetition, right? Then he starts over again?”
Donovan opened his com. “Guy, do me a favour and leave. Leave now? I don’t have time for this shit.”
“Don’t you get it?! I’m tryin’ to help here, Dumbass. I’ve been watchin’ him while you two shit yourselves.” he thrust the paper at the Bodyguard as if that would suffice as explanation.
All Donovan saw was circles with lines.
Guy threw his hands up in defeat and scratched his head in irritation. “Okay like I don’t get the words and stuff, but he is repeating the constant just using words instead, 3.141...3.141?”
“Lambda...Lambda...Lambda...Lambda....”
The chestnut haired mongrel seriously wondered right about then if he was actually looking at mindless Pets. “The Idiot keeps drawing circles. The diameter of a circle is 3.14159265358979323846264338...” Guy scratched his head again, vaguely annoyed with himself. “Use to know up to the first 300 of ‘em; Won plenty of stout with that shit. Could go all night and never once pass a credit to the barkeep.” he chuckled, remembering those heady days when Bison was a force to be reckoned with and Riki was in charge.
“Mu...”
No one had noticed the sudden silence, except Guy. Admon had stopped and was listening intently.
“How apropos that the Irrational One, knows the irrational number. I have new found respect.”
“Who the fuck are you callin’ irrational, Asswipe!? Go suck a dick! It’s all you're good at!”
Ruby eyes gleamed malevolently. “Yes, one should always pride themselves on a job well done.”
Donovan leapt in front of Guy who had been about to charge the Karinese with violent intent.
“You ever touch him again and I’ll rip your tongue out by the fuckin’ root!”
The Bodyguard’s brow rose, amused blue staring down into furious, indignant gray.
Guy blinked, suddenly aware of the slip of his own tongue. “Just sayin’ ... that shit’s over. Got it!?”
Donovan nodded slowly, trying to gauge exactly what Guy was actually saying. He’d humor him for now. “Yes, Sir, whatever you say, Sir. Will you please leave?”
“No! I’m not leaving you here with that thing! You’re clueless!” Guy swatted a thick bicep reflexively.
Kato noted uncomfortably that Admon seemed unperturbed by the possibility of attack, more intrigued by the dynamics on display. Where had he acquired that cloak, come to think of it? It was in no way attractive and far too utilitarian in structure, rather like a uniform. Where had he seen something like this before?
“The words are an alphabetical sequence from an ancient dialect once spoken on the world of origin, many, many eons ago. They denote generations in this instance.”
“Get to the point, Jerk-Off, before I rip your throat out!” Guy hissed irritably, struggling against Donovan’s superior strength.
The bodyguard shook him, practically rattling his teeth. “Behave yourself!”
Admon inclined his elegant shrouded head, ruby eyes glowing ominously. “In formal terms, I am AD Karin - 003 of the final series, MU, Irrational One.”
“They also serve who stand and wait, Cal.”
Cal inclined his head, smiled nervously looking back at the open doors, somewhat perplexed by his fellow mongrel’s turn of phrase.
He watched with pleasure as Katze took a protracted sniff and then sipped with undue reverence, ending with a rather dramatic “Aaaaaaaaahhh” that served to heighten the Furniture’s shy pleasure of a job well done.
Only Riki ever complimented him on his fastidiously prepared brew.
Katze’s gaze travelled across the expansive balcony that once he himself took for granted. Those were the days. He could indulge in a quiet smoke, when the Master was away and his few and far between Pets where then at the Salon for show.
“How often do you come out here when no one’s around, Cal?”
“Not as frequently, since Sir Riki. It is beautiful, isn’t it?”
The dealer nodded, beckoning the Furniture to come forward to stand at the balcony’s edge with him and observe the perfect, from this vantage, city below.
“They look like insects, don’t they? Getting on with their lives, oblivious to everything that goes on just a matter of kilometres away, just sipping their coffee, window gazing for things they don’t need and being ever so busy with bullshit that amounts to nothing.”
Cal stiffened. Not quite the right note in the household Mink.
Katze chuckled. “Understood Cal, no response required. How’s Riki, if you can say?”
The nervous flinch at the question was obvious as dark eyes danced about seeking purchase and a faint glow covered a broad intelligent forehead.
“Enough said. Is he better than yesterday?”
Cal nodded. “As to be expected. He was able to attend to his needs this morning. He is a stubborn young man. There was a great deal of pain, but I gave him the medication Sir Raoul had left. It seems to have been serviceable. “
The Furniture’s penetrating gaze shifted as he looked up into the perceptive mongrel’s face. “The internal bleeding has stopped. Sir Am is exceptional in his craft.”
Katze eyes narrowed. “Yeah...can I have another cup, if it isn’t a bother and maybe something is left from breakfast? You do a mean buttered toast, if I remember correctly?”
Cal beamed with unsurpassed pleasure glad of something useful to do that did not involve uncomfortable queries. “Mr. Katze, I can do better than that, excuse me.”
Katze chuckled and bowed. Cal did in kind before taking his leave. It was subtle. There was absolutely no need for his fellow Furniture to give him an undeserved honorific well above his station, but the intent was understood.
It was thank you.
He did not know how long he stood there in perfect isolation, but the dealer sighed pleasurably feeling the warm, rising sun touch delicately upon his skin as he finished the cup and placed it on the balcony edge before lighting another smoke. Katze heard the quiet, precise footfalls of soft boots and his back stiffened with trepidation and anger.
It was not Raoul’s distinctive, somewhat laconic tread. It was Iason’s measured gait.
“I am well pleased, Katze, you saw fit to follow my instructions to the letter. Your curiosity has a tendency to know no bounds on occasion.”
Katze inhaled deeply, borrowing time as his gaze shifted beyond the rim of the gray stone balcony towards Midas and his derelict home within its borders, Ceres. Long, gloved digits stroked the outline of his scarred cheek. He steeled his countenance, focussing on the distant, dark topography beyond.
Such a difference he thought to the touch of Raoul Am. There was an implicit threat in this touch, not present with Sir Am, who liked to toy, but never left him bereft or alienated, merely embarrassed by the intimacy of his touch which lingered in its warmth.
“Sir Mink?”
He felt the gloved palm shift to a shoulder now and the instinctive urge to shrug it off had to be quashed. What in hell was wrong with him? Was he losing his mind? It would be tantamount to a death sentence to show his Excellency such disrespect. The dealer breathed deeply, allowing the wide palm to grip him without flinching. It took all his strength.
Katze turned, pivoting as the hand suggested with implacable force in its gentleness. It remained on his shoulder too long for comfort. The dealer shifted subtly, looking up into cold, intractable blue eyes, the color of ice. They bore into him malevolently, a thin predatory smile playing about well sculpted lips.
“How often does he fuck you, Katze?”
The dealer blinked, his peripheral vision noting Cal’s reappearance, hovering at the plasma doors that lead out to the balcony with tray in tow just as Raoul made his presence felt in the doorway, emerald eyes glowing preternaturally as they gazed into sun-kissed amber.
“Ahhh refreshments, much needed, Cal. Another cup and saucer seems to be in order, it appears his Excellency is back rather sooner than anticipated. Most efficient, Cal, most efficient, this will do nicely.” Raoul offered with cold approval. Katze noted the subtle shift of focus to Iason’s hand upon the mongrel’s shoulder. Raoul bit into the confection, originally meant for Katze, with rare appetite.
Cal bowed and made short work of his disappearance back into the penthouse as Raoul stalked forward with shoulders tense, broad and squared.
“Might I be allowed to join in this conversation, Iason?”
“If you will insist, Raoul. I merely asking Katze a question and as you can see, he is flushed, an answer in and of itself.”
Iason patted the dealer’s cheek and turned to the Chief of Medical Sciences, effectively dismissing the Mongrel. “How is he?”
Raoul noted the flat, dead expression in Katze’s eyes as he placed his hands in his pockets, regarding the horizon, trying desperately for composure as his lower jaw worked in obvious frustration and blinding anger.
This was entirely out of character. What was more, the disquiet felt by the mongrel had by some peculiar form of osmosis transferred to his gut. For the first time in his life, Raoul rolled his own hand into an iron fist, crushing the delicate pastry he held to a pulp.
A silvery brow arched and a pensive moue turned to a thin smile, not matched by the blank stare. “I was correct in my surmise, Raoul. “
“What was the content of this query, Iason? One assumes it was of a personal nature?”
“How is Riki, Raoul?”
Ignoring the query once again, the Blondie flashed his own gloved hand in disgust as sticky sweet goo continued to adhere to the palm of the glove. He would have to change before they left. “Might I impose?” Raoul waved the evidence about and pinned Katze with a deep green gaze that brooked no argument. “I don’t always know my own strength. Katze be so good as to return to my suite and have Deek bring me a pair immediately.”
Iason sighed with satisfaction. “That would be the second time you intentionally attempted to remove Katze from my rightful purview, Raoul. One could mistakenly believe you were attempting some manner of misguided and wholly spurious means of protecting that which is not yours to govern.”
Katze felt the chill as both males’ cool countenances remained rigid; both prepared to pounce more than verbally. They regarded each other as if from a great divide. He had to end this now. “I don’t mind, your Excellency.”
Iason swung round, regarding the mongrel’s taut, pale visage.
“Well, I do. You will remain here!” Iason hissed.
The dealer didn’t even flinch. That flat amber gaze peered blankly at him, raising the Elite’s ire further. This mongrel, his pawn, was actually challenging him. He had changed, however subtly. There had been a time when Katze would have lowered his eyes in obeisance, however feigned. Now quietly, despite the odds the elegant little thing was taking a stand, knowing full well the possible repercussions. Katze was actually showing anger.
The swiftness of the Blondie’s movement as he turned with a snarl, made the mongrel freeze in place. Iason towered over him with barely contained rage in the frigid depths of ice blue as a large hand was raised in threat.
“Your loyalties lie with me, not those who choose to bed defective merchandise. What was given can just as easily be taken, never forget that, Katze.”
“No your Excellency, how could I?”
Anger could be a blinding emotion at times, especially when displaced. Iason hadn’t noticed the sticky palm firmly resting on one broad shoulder with a pincer-like grip, nor the seemingly distant echo of paced clapping coming from the direction of the open plasma doors.
It was Riki bracing himself against the sliding doors, looking somewhat pale, fragile and without question livid.
“That’s the spirit Blondie! When you can’t get your way threaten to beat the shit out of your opponent, puts ‘em back in their place every time.”
Katze’s eyes drifted to the dark figure in the oversized white robe with a sadness that drained his own anger instantly.
“Riki? You okay, kiddo?”
The dark mongrel shrugged, steadying himself. “Been better, Red.”
He was walking now, uncaring about Iason’s wrath as he moved towards the clearly weakened mongrel, reaching him just in time as he tumbled forward into his arms. Katze felt the silver streak that swiftly shoved him. Stronger hands replaced his on the now irritable mongrel. “Let me go!”
“Be still, Riki.” Iason carefully grasped the fragile mongrel who continued to flail in his captor’s arms, sapping the last of his strength.
“I hate you.” Riki sobbed against the sturdy silk clad chest.
“This is neither the time nor place, Riki. You need your rest.” Iason murmured against the dark head, carefully lifting the mongrel, whose tantrum was quickly fading into fatigued resignation.
“I hate you. I really, really hate you...” Riki whispered while curling into the now docile Elite.
“Yes, my Pet, this you have repeatedly told me. Now hush.”
“Let me go...”
“No, Riki not this time.”
“Should’a left you there in the fire to burn to a crisp.” Riki balled a fist and hit the Syndicate leader in the chest half heartedly, snuggling closer.
“You were incapable of doing so.” Iason retorted quietly, adjusting his burden with infinite care.
“It fuckin’ hurts, Iason.”
“I know, Pet. Even more reason for you not to disobey me in future.” Iason corrected in an indulgent tone as he walked silently through the door, ignoring both perplexed males who gapped in open fascination.
“Fuck you!”
Riki was in excellent voice, Katze acknowledged absently, he chuckled to himself and retrieved his pack of smokes. “One for the books, those two. They’ll be the death of me.”
“That is not on offer, Pet. You have yet to earn such privilege. Keep your voice down. We have company.”
“You wish! Put me down, I’m hungry. Why do you smell like pastry?”
The Blondie by the dealer’s side remained rooted with blank expression as their voices faded. “Truly amazing, I have never understood it.”
“Neither do they, Sir Am.”
Raoul turned and studied the distant expression on the inordinately attractive mongrel’s face. Katze looked genuinely sad.
“Chemistry, Raoul. A fatal chemistry. They’re so much alike, it’s not even funny. They’ll keep going like this ‘til they kill each other or destroy everyone and everything in their path, avoiding the obvious; right down to the wire, even through the fire.”
“Meaning?”
Katze sighed, glancing sideways at the Elite through narrowed eyes. “I remember when Riki made the choice to go back in. He knew it was over, but he made the choice. He begged me to save Guy. If it were up to me, I’d have left the little shit in there to perish, but no, the kid wouldn’t have it. He chose to go back. He kinda found it, in that moment, his reason for being. I helped them out the only way I could.”
The dealer crushed the butt.
“Black Moons?”
The dealer nodded.
“They are illegal for your information.”
Katze ignored the attempt at censure, “Yeah, all I could do.”
“So typical of you, Katze. What you supposed to be an honourable death to your questionable way of thinking?”
The dealer snorted. “No Raoul, more practical than that. Try a relatively pain-free release. At least they were together, for what it was worth.” Katze shrugged. “Seems Riki’ll be okay, in a few, no?”
“Yes.” Raoul’s responded, his fixed gaze studying the now stoic countenance of his mongrel, who had been regarded him pensively. “You loved them, didn’t you?”
Katze’s glance grew quietly mischievous. “Loved, being the operative verb, Sir Am. Shall we go? You need a change of gloves and they have long forgotten about us, fortunately.”
“Touché .” Raoul bowed decorously, the paraphrase with respect to the Ruby had not been lost on him. Equally since when had he begun to feel Katze was his? “By any chance do you play Chess, Katze of Ceres?”
“Not unless it’s worth my while, Sir Am.”
Raoul’s expression became positively lewd.
Katze rolled his eyes. “Is that all you ever think about?”
The Elite feigned thought as they walked companionably towards the penthouse balcony doors. Raoul discarded the soiled glove on Cal’s pro-offered tray and retrieved his medical kit. Katze inclined his head to the Furniture as they stepped past.
“Yes actually, when it comes to your person. A most agreeable pastime, no wonder it is forbidden.”
Not for the first time, Raoul acknowledged peripherally, Katze had a rather pleasant laugh, perhaps because it was rare and only ever offered genuinely.
“If I win, I get the music box back. No questions asked.”
Raoul sniffed indignantly, adjusting his tunic as he watched the silent farewell exchanged by former colleagues.
“And when you lose, Katze of Ceres?”
The mongrel looked inordinately smug as they entered the lift.
A mild fluttering occurred in the Elite’s chest as warm amber eyes studied him from head to foot in a predatory manner.
“Then we both win, don’t we?”
It burnt like molten fire.
Admon studied his own naked reflection, Ruby eyes focussed on the coiled brand emblazoned upon his inner thigh. The pads of a hand moved over the hot, angry helix that marred flawless opalescent skin, the mark of the First Ones.
Bitter sweet was the pain that signalled his Master’s return and that of his Companion. The contact had been sporadic, aided by the ionic storm that preceded the cargo ship, but it had served. They would be late, but his Master always preferred making an entrance, his singular flaw.
Admon was proud and yes, somewhat perplexed at the timing. In truth the Master’s sentinel had kept his vigil as promised, but with failing heart as the days turned into years with no answer to his call.
He could pride himself on a task well executed, right down to his appearance when found. The Karinese twirled a tendril of silky hair absently, remembering the first time he had laid eyes upon the mongrel in full.
The likeness of eyes and colouring was striking, though the male in question was smaller of stature, the mindset was eerily the same and grew more so day by day upon knowing. His curiosity knew no bounds, his singular flaw. It was just a matter of time before he pieced the puzzle together. Those trips to the tunnels below Guardian had been noticed.
Raoul Am had appointed himself by instinct as guardian not memory; curious this ancient drive to both seek and protect beyond instilled rational thought.
He was protector now and so obviously lover, where once he was only tormentor. The flaw, the challenge was that passion was returned, admittedly or not. In that Admon had failed. He had waited too long. Their connection had been made, little knowing the ties that bound them were ancestral, despite Lambda’s best efforts.
The Karinese smiled as the music box, of its own volition, opened and began to play an ancient melody.
Six disparate houses terra-formed this barren world, how disheartening that they would no longer recognize it, so debauched and changed, were the precepts it was founded upon. Its children barren by selection and carried on the electromagnetic currents and tides of those twin moons away from their purpose – until now.
It was faint, but Katze heard the muffled sound as he stood by the window admiring the sun drenched views from Raoul’s library.
He turned following the pleasing sound to the large antique desk where his box sat partially open quietly playing an ancient score. He smiled softly almost tipping to examine it more fully before bending in front of it, noting the double helix design on its interior lid.
“Katze?”
The smile faded as pale eyes closed and the loud thudding of his heart gave way to dark oblivion, his last cognitive memory the sound of Raoul’s voice as he crumpled.
“KATZE!!”
Author’s Note
Yes, EP is an evil, evil, evil being. Now that we have established that, let me know *claps little hands in glee*.
Seriously, do we believe there will only be Twenty-five chapters...yeah...right and I have some swamp land for ya! Hope you enjoyed.
ElegantPaws