AnK - Black Moon Rising

Black Moon Rising

By: ElegantPaws with all due deference to Yoshihara Rieko

Edited by: Ainzfern

Key Pairing: Raoul/Katze

Rating: Mature

Parts: WIP – 27 of ?

Reviews are fuel.


" No matter how the wind howls, the mountain cannot bow to it.”
~~~
The Way of the Warrior

Chapter 27 of ? – Diaspora (Post OVA)

“Defend yourself!”

Katze’s opaque gaze fixed on the Elite implacably as one finger extended and poked Raoul’s chest defiantly.

“Why? I’ve done nothing wrong, Sir Am. Admon is mine to do with as I see fit.”

If he touched the frail being now he would surely kill him, but the prodding was maddening.

The damn mongrel did not even have the good graces to cower in the face of insurmountable odds in hopes of a reprieve. Raoul’s gut clenched as he strove to control the coiled fury within as he regarded the digit touching his chest with malevolence.

He wanted to snap the fine boned wrist and the man attached in two.

That hand had touched Admon intimately. Raoul quashed the thought. “Stop touching me, Katze. I’m a hairs breadth from ending your pathetic existence.”

Wanton disrespect that is what that was. Katze had turned away from him and was fiddling with the monitors, zooming in on the furious Ruby wilfully glared back into the camera. He knew he was being watched.

“Yeah whatever, Raoul, Sir Niiro looks seriously pissed off,” Katze retorted sharply indicating the monitor with a gesture of his chin. “I’d see about that before he breaks a blood vessel, he’s somehow disrupting the electronics in this room. How’s he doing that, by the way? I don’t think he’s use to being ignored by anyone, much less his beloved Raoul Am.”

It was only meant to be a glancing blow that connected with Katze’s stubborn jaw. Just to get his attention, nothing more. Instead it snapped the dealer’s head back. Too late to rein in the force and its unintended follow through. The Elite shivered in revulsion as his fist met with the cartilage of the dealer’s nose with a horrible crunch.

The sight of blood gushing for the dealer’s nose and mouth, spattering his perfectly imperfect face and shirt, froze the Elite as he looked at his glove and the evidence of his sudden, inexplicable irrational brutality.

Katze body rocked from the force of the blow. It was pure stubborn will why his knees did not buckle as he attempted to brace himself against the desk with a white knuckled grip.

Raoul recoiled. His own body growing cold with shock as a trembling hand retrieved his handkerchief without any by your leave and moved closer to the mongrel.

“Feel better now, Sir Am?” Katze murmured working his jaw, closing his eyes to the pain and ignoring the warm sticky feel of blood running down his nose to his mouth. Grabbing the carefully folded white silk material, he dabbed at his nose.

Lackadaisically attempting to shrug the gloved hands that held his shoulders, the mongrel gently prodded his nose with an irritable hiss.

“Fuck Off! I think you broke it!”

Katze patted his lips next as Raoul’s grip loosened slightly and examined the soft silky material before carefully folding it to blow his nose with an undignified yelp of pain.

“Oh Katze, I did not mean, to...to.”

The dealer glared up at the Elite’s face, who was taking a detailed inventory of the damage with a suitably contrite expression. “Save it for someone who gives a shit, Raoul! Let go of me! You’ve done what you came to do.”

Ignoring his outburst the Blondie gently tipped the rapidly swelling chin up and examined the nose with a flat analytical regard, “No, not broken. The septum has been deviated moderately. Nothing the judicious application of ice and a few instruments from one or other of the med-tech’s downstairs could not handle. I will see to it myself.”

“No fucking thank you! I’ve had just about enough of being your personal punching bag for the night.”

There was nothing to say really, other than to stand there awkwardly, trying to ignore the pervading scent of sweat and that unhallowed musk distinctive of that revolting...

“Your lot never mean half of what you do. Just get out. I’m done, Raoul, playing this fucked up game. I was wrong about you. No better than Iason.”

Raoul’s eyes narrow dangerously and gloved hands dug into the tense shoulders of the Black Market dealer, pinning him to the desk’s edge. “That was uncalled for, Katze. I shall put it down to pain and the obvious disquiet felt by my professional attentions to my brethren.”

“Put it down to any fucking thing you like, Sir Am. Since when does professionalism require you to allow someone to cop a feel?”

“I would hardly term, Sir Niiro’s rather eclectic sense of comrade...”

The dealer raised his hand.

“Slowly killing me with your bullshit, Raoul, you’ve another thing coming if you think I’m just gonna take whatever you feel like dishing out without protest. I’m done. Respectfully, Sir Am, go play with someone else.”

Dark emerald eyes averted with embarrassment.

“Just leave me the fuck alone.”

A cold smile played about the Elite’s lips as he stepped back from the livid mongrel. Katze’s nearness was interfering with his logic. Still, he was allowed a biting retort.

“You are the one playing games Katze. You are the one that refuses to see the leeway I grant you without thought as to the dangers entailed to my position. By all rights, I could end your life for this little diatribe and no one would question my actions.”

Katze stiffened visibly, holding the ruined handkerchief to his nose as he too stepped back and away from the desk and the pervading warmth he felt coming off the Elite. He didn’t much like the statement or its implications.

Should he call him on it, he thought moving towards the cooler by the side of the desk and rifled through the bottles, finding the ice pack. It hurt to bend his head but it was better than standing near Raoul who had gotten disquietingly reserved in his regard, almost as he knew what the next move would be.

The gun felt heavy in his jacket pocket. It was called Russian roulette in a bygone era on a distant world, but a damn good way of levelling the untenable playing field, if it came to it. Then again the last time he’d played it with a less than stable client, he had loaded in his own favour. Sequencing and slight-of- hand had won him the bar, unbeknownst to his Excellency.

Messy though, ruined a perfectly good jacket. Raoul didn’t deserve that, despite the complications forged by the attraction. He’d find another way to deal.

Katze moaned as the cold pack touched his throbbing jaw, soothing it as he sank down onto the low settee and regarded the Elite quizzically. He’d find another way to deal. The very idea brought with it a desperate unfamiliar sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. A loud collective cheer was heard from the monitors trained on the main floor.

The dealer ignored it, no longer interested in the movements of his men doing crowd control as the final Pet for purchase was displayed, signalling the end of the Auction.

“Why did you do it, Katze? Why Admon of all beings? I loathe his creation and purpose. I did warn you about his intent. He is using you to exact vengeance.”

Katze snorted in disbelief, adjusting the ice pack as he slouched deeper into the warmth beneath him and watched the Elite silently approach with growing unease. No, he really couldn’t do it. Not Raoul. He’d just have to take his chances.

“Relax. It’s just sex, Sir Am and none of your concern.”

The dealer watched the shifting, subtle emotions playing about the Elite’s face as he crouched in front of him with a resigned sigh.

“Why?”

Was this to be round two? Why was the Blondie discarding the bloodied glove and its twin with a determined set to his perfect face?

“Fine, we play it your way. We do not leave this room until you answer me truthfully for once in your recalcitrant life!”

Shrugging the mongrel looked up into still angry, querulous eyes. Raoul had finally gotten a proper grip of his temper, however tenuously. He did ask for the truth. What would he do with it?

“Revenge, as pathetic as that sounds, Sir Am, I was trying to get even with you for crap outside either of our control.”

Raoul kneeled in front of the dealer, grasping his splayed knees and shook him in irritation.

“Revenge for what, exactly? Were you dissatisfied with our interlude earlier today?”

Katze’s eyes softened. “Hardly. Etched in memory that. We made love, for want of better words.”

“Well?” This pleased Raoul, but he needed proof of his suspicions and however painful these unfamiliar emotions, he must know. There would be time to preen about his prowess in sating his mongrel’s considerable sexual appetites later. They were well matched sensually.

A wry smile touched blood spattered lips. “If it helps, it back fired big time. Made me realize something I didn’t want to face. Still don’t.”

The Elite’s brow arched in question. “You are babbling, Katze. Get to the point.”

Katze sighed, hating himself for the gratification he felt as those large warm hands caressed his thighs in silent comfort. “I wanted you, not Admon. Couldn’t cum until I imagined it was you writhing beneath me.”

‘Writhing...you...he...?” he could feel his limbs trembling. He was so sure he had needed the word, but now.

Raoul’s teeth began to grind, remembering who was beyond the doorway as he rose abruptly to his feet, only hearing Katze’s pleas in passing while he headed for the door. The desperate, vice-like grip that attempted to still his progress quickly dispensed with. That smug look Admon had worn would be short-lived.

Raoul Am did not share his possessions.

Finally, someone, or more accurately, something he could wreck havoc on with no real repercussions, other than displeasing Sir Niiro; the least of his worries.

~~~BMR~~~

Obviously humanoid, all those silver tipped gold strands that went on forever. A body that just screamed “fuck toy” by its design and the come hither slant of pale blue eyes were just liquid orbs of petulant enticement. Why the fuck wasn’t the Boss in the bidding for this one? He’d give a month’s credit to have a crack at that one. Something about the eyes reminded him of that overbearing asshole that held Riki captive in more ways than one.

“Bring it here, honey! I got something for ya.” Guy moaned, accentuating the comment by grabbing his own crotch. He wasn’t the only one. The noisy appreciative throng were echoing his sentiments. Donovan was seriously gonna get lucky tonight.

Guy gritted his teeth in annoyance. There was that fucker’s hand again. The leach had clung to his side at the opposing bar stool. Okay so it had felt good for awhile, but enough was enough. Bison’s leader shifted his focus back to the dais.

Fuck he was beautiful and the barely there shift was working for him and all that luminous skin – nice musculature. Wouldn’t mind that wrapped around him. Damn! He’d waited all afternoon and well into evening for this sight and it had been worth it.

Reaching for his unfinished drink blindly, Guy slurped the sweet, potent concoction, wasting no time standing on the stool for a better view of what would always remain a fantasy. Weird, but in truth the body on display was trim and this side of perfect, but didn’t really hold a candle to Donovan’s more masculine build. Weird that his mind would make the comparison, not that he would turn that down if it was in his cot. He’d fuck him into perdition, still.

The shoulder he had placed his soiled boot on protested sharply and attempted to move. The laser sights of Guy’s gun improved the groper’s disposition almost instantly as he withdrew it from the waistband of his jeans and smiled maniacally.

He was a runner, nothing more than a hired bidder and not even a citizen at that. No loss if he disappeared.

Guy grinned down with malicious, unfocussed gray eyes at his unwitting helper. “That’s it chinless wonder, time to pay the piper.” He nudged the man’s trembling lips suggestively with the barrel’s tip and forced his lips apart with a suggestive thrust of his pelvis.

“Lick it.”

The man nodded nervously and licked the warm metal tentatively with renewed hope.

“Yeah, that’s it. I’ve been keepin’ it warm just for you.”

Pleading, frightened blue eyes looked up at him. Bison’s leader shrugged.

“You’ve been braggin’ all night with the sweet nothings in my ear, so show me. That free grope came with a price, bitch.” Guy retrieved his drink and sniffed it before pouring it over the man’s head. “...and it wasn’t nursing this prissy assed shit just to get high!”

Now bored with the game, the Ceres mongrel sighed. Too quick a surrender; tongue action sucked wet ass and the drool wasn’t exactly helpin’ the attempt at seduction, nor the rapid blinking as the drink’s acidic fruit juice burnt the runner’s eyes. No completion at all.

Donovan could suck the etching off the gun when inspired.

Guy moaned at the thought, slamming the gun’s hilt into the side of the patron’s head, putting him out of his misery before lazily returned his attentions to the rare beauty gliding across the dais as a fragrance hit him.

Nice. Must be that gorgeous piece of ass on stage, but he was too far away.


Just ten minutes, that’s all he’d need to do that one justice. He’d take more, if it was on offer. He couldn’t trust himself to last that long with Donovan much less, if the opportunity presented itself.

“I believe the term used on this world is glass jaw.”

That voice, warm, sultry and decidedly female came from behind, where the scent had been coming from now that he gave it thought.

Guy turned at the commanding tone. His eyes met naked feet and above them exceedingly well shaped legs that appeared to go on forever as they rose gracefully to meet curvaceous hips, semi-discreetly covered by, he blinked unsure of what he was witnessing, gossamer thin material.

His worn handsome face broke into a licentious smile as his eyes lowered once more stopping abruptly at the apex of her sex meaningfully and felt his cock react to the sensual display.

Too much temptation about and all of it out of reach, Donovan was definitely gettin’ some tonight.

“Nice legs. When do they open for business?”

“Depends what you mean by business, Guy.” Ajna replied softly, taking the abandoned seat and crossing long, agile legs. “Isn’t it customary to offer a girl a drink at these events?”

The smile froze while his eyes continued to journey upward over the trim waist, the firm swell of spectacular breasts and pert nipples peaking through the material. She had surprisingly broad shoulders.

His pale gray eyes speculatively meet dark, ruby irises.

Guy froze.

‘What the fuck was his attraction to the bald and dangerous? Cause this bitch was packin’ in more ways than one.’

The smile upon her face did not meet her eyes. She was after something and it wasn’t him.

Guy shook his head with feigned sadness as he cocked his gun and glided it slowly up a smooth thigh. When was it ever about him? It wasn’t as if anyone had ever really thought him a prized catch with the exception of Riki and then that was by default.

This was Niiro’s bitch, the Karinese and she was armed to the teeth with that laser tipped staff that stopped the progress of the gun’s barrel in its little excursion.


‘Yep, he promised his importunate cock. Donovan was gonna be his bitch tonight, one way or another.’

“Sure.”Guy carefully stooped in front of the Karinese female, his eyes never leaving hers as he rifled the runner’s pockets and finally found his personal Com and the unlimited credit notice. “He’s payin’. Knock yourself out, legs.”


Ajna smiled demurely down at him. Butter wouldn’t melt on those full lips and the eerily white teeth. So perfect and yet so cold regardless of the studied attempt at a winsome inviting gaze that caressed his body.

Instinct kicked in and his hackles rose. His tall lanky frame eased up slowly, inhaling her fragrance, observing the silky smooth skin of her inner thighs. She did smell good, even if her scent reminded him of Admon. Fuck he still wanted to break its face.

Returning her smile with what he hoped passed for seduction, he was grateful for the rapid decline of his hard on as the blood flow returned to his brain.

He needed to find Donovan. Her inner thigh had the same fuckin’ serpentine marking as that droid shit, but in reverse. Maybe they were related. They both did belong to the Ruby, but what did it really mean?

~~~BMR~~~

Love was inherently illogical and possessive by its very nature in its infancy, however well cloaked in fear.

It was the first thing Admon felt, not just the roiling aura that burst through the door heralding the near insanity he saw in the emerald green eyes that cut through his core as the Elite lunged towards him out of breath, gnashing his teeth.

The Blondie’s heart rate had soared to bursting with its beating, sending a deadly cocktail of adrenalin and testosterone laced blood to all his extremities in preparation to fight.

Admon rose from his seated position on the opposite wall with calm resolve.

Hatred masked much in the humanoid species, but in the end it all boiled down to one central cog – fear. The fear of losing that which was coveted without reason; the fear of revelation and the attendant fallout of a seeming misspent youth, directed by a force of unknown nature and will demanding change; fear of a course that had long been set eons before in the Abyss.

A decided advantage, the Karinese thought meeting the hate filled gaze of a killer. Raoul’s current state rendered logic impossible, even for this intuitive humanoid, unused to chaotic thought, but ruled by it when it came to One much prized above all else.

Admon effortlessly dodged the fist that swung for him and grasped the coiled, naked digits with ease and a tired smile. Truth was the best weapon under the circumstances.

Fate required it.

Raoul attempted to pull away from the steely grasp in unaccustomed fear as darkness befell his eyes and the familiar musk of sex and sweat assailed his nostrils and long supple, partially naked limbs came to view with inner sight. His gut twisted in anger and something he could not describe readily.

It was Katze, whose face looked pained and confused with eyes tight shut, murmuring his name as if in chant while he thrust into the still body beneath him with mindless abandon, refusing to take the hand that reached for him.

“He desires you. Understand the gift returned by the First One and your place in the rectification. If you don’t, we are lost, Sir Am.”

Katze’s heart lurched as he watched the bi-play and his Raoul so easily deflected from his intent by the Karinese who wore a sad resolve on his perfect face. Admon released the Elite’s hand and strode away with a regal air.

“They are coming, Katze. Prepare yourself.”

Admon was a rare serpent indeed and more than that. The dealer shivered finally recognizing what had always bothered him in the preternatural presence felt about Admon.

He was Jupiter’s match.

~~~BMR~~~

The fog within the Elite’s mind had cleared sufficiently to realize that he, Raoul Am, Chief Scientist of Amoi and the ruler of all he surveyed, was perhaps not in total control of his faculties at the moment.

Bottle green eyes lifted to the pale hand extended to him as Katze closed his personal communication device and kneeled down next to the Elite. “We gotta go, Sir Am. Your limo’s waiting. We need to get you outta here safely. I just know this isn’t over.”

Raoul flexed, wilfully attempting to override the lethargy he still felt in his extremities, ignoring the courtesy of the proffered hand. Something about it was disconcertingly familiar, frightening even considering the source and cause of the feeling.

“Can you stand, Sir Am?” Katze asked with a long suffering sigh, rising fully with a mild curse. His jaw ached with each word spoken.

“Where are we going?” the Elite murmured absently regarding Katze’s still extended hand as if from a great distance unable to shake the lassitude he felt in his limbs. The fog within his brain was slowly lifting. It felt like a latent communion with Jupiter, perhaps even stronger in its after effects. Something in the android’s touch had the ability to lower the response time of muscle tissue. Perhaps his form of defence as he probed the inner workings of the individuals he ceased.

It would never happen again, this loss of control.

Katze bent with a grimace and took Elite’s limp hand in his, regarding it speculatively as he spoke. “You saw a memory, didn’t you?”

Raoul nodded. “Yes, a great deal I would rather forget.”

“Care to share?” Katze inquired suspiciously softly, while raising the Elite’s hand and examining it with a pensive expression. If he didn’t look at him directly, maybe he would talk.

Silence as the Elite’s jaw worked stubbornly as he gently withdrew his hand from the smaller, fine boned one.

“Fine, be that way. Just trying to help, let’s go. The shit’s about to hit the fan and I need you as far away as possible so I can think straight.”

Green eyes blinked uncomprehending at the colourful metaphor and noted that for the second time, unbeknownst to the mongrel, that he had given over to almost admitting attachment with respect to the Elite.

The dealer sighed. He really didn’t have time for this bullshit. “Did the same thing to me awhile back at the club and to be honest nearly pissed myself at the time. His empathic abilities are a strong part of why I intend to keep him for business purposes. No one has ever gotten that far in.”

“And that is your only rationale, a means of foiling your enemies?”

Katze shrugged.

“I can’t explain it, but my gut tells me his agenda is mine. It’s not directed at either of us.”

Raoul’s sudden and sharp glared caught the mongrel off guard.

“You like him because he has a duplicitous mind?”

Katze attempted to smile, but his jaw hurt like a bitch. He shrugged instead. “Okay, so maybe he isn’t your biggest fan, Sir Am but he’s not my enemy. He’s got power and has had plenty of opportunity to lay me low and hasn’t.”

The Elite’s lips pursed. “What manner of opportunities are these you speak of?”

“There’s a reason you’re to abstain. I get it now. You’re all obsessed.” The dealer gently tugged on the Elite’s hand. “Come on. I need to get that perfect ass outta here. Let’s go!”

“Unhand me, Katze. I am not a juvenile in need of succour.”

The Elite rose with as much dignity as he could muster, mildly affronted as always by the brutal honesty of the mongrel. “Explain yourself as to why this sudden urgency to leave the premises?”

“I’m just leading you to the tunnel where your limo is waiting, it’s the only part of this compound not monitored and yes, it is one of my escape routes in case of emergencies. Good enough? Let’s go.”

Confusion tinged emerald regarded the dealer irritably. “Why are you so agitated?”

Katze leaned his head towards the office and absently smoothed the Elite’s velvet tunic as he spoke, calming his breathing.

“The instruments in there are going nuts. Something’s about to happen and I don’t want you mixed up in this shit. Who knows, it could be a rival intercepting communications. I don’t know, Raoul. I just need you gone.”

Raoul’s lips pursed. That would explain why the sudden influx of armed men on the main floor.

“I thought this compound was secured and virtually impenetrable? Surely Midas Security will handle whatever manner of disturbance might occur, not to mention the private covert detail, generously supplied by the Syndicate?”

The dealer sighed. The bastard never made anything easy. “Just once in your pathetic, spoilt life, Raoul, let me lead. I can deal better if you’re not here and I don’t have to worry about you in the cross fire.”

Adrenalin had been the solution to the lethargy as it coursed through his body as the Blondie turned to face the dishevelled, blood spattered face of his mongrel, who for a moment looked frightened before cloaking his expression.

Katze gritted his teeth and turned to the blank wall next to him. Another illusion, Raoul thought as the dealer’s hand disappeared into a seeming void. The wall undulated revealing a pathway of stairs.

‘A hand print device of unknown make and origin?’

“What crossfire? Explain yourself! Who has intercepted your secured transmissions?”

“Come on! We’ve wasted enough time with this debate, Sir Am. You need deniability.”

Raoul grasped Katze’s shoulder and spun him around. “Answer me, you confounded mongrel.”

“Just think of the pleasure you’ll have over-intellectualizing the day’s events with a nice brandy and Deek fussing around you, thankful I’m not there to poison?” Maybe humour would help. Apparently not, the Blondie looked even more determined. Not a one of them dealt well with being ordered about.

Katze took the first set of stairs but heard no echoing footsteps behind as he had hoped. He shook his head and turned. True to form all he saw was the Elite’s distinctive silhouette at the top of the stairwell, his shoulders looking broad and obstinate in their set and though he could not see those fine eyes, he knew they glowered down at him.

The dealer retraced his steps and opened his jacket in preparation for fast retrieval of his only friend. It was like attempting to move a mountain Katze had to admit irritably, looking up into confused, stubborn, verdant eyes. “Why aren’t your feet moving, Sir Am?”

Katze winced as his body was yanked up into Raoul’s arms. “I am staying, mongrel.”

He allowed himself to enjoy the warmth, letting his body go limp in the Elite’s grasp with the anticipated effect. Raoul eased his grip just sufficiently for his arm to move within the silk lining of his jacket.

“Ahhh, no, Raoul. With all due respect, you’re not!” Katze murmured sibilantly. “Let’s go, Sir Am.”

Raoul blinked feeling the warm metal against his chest, his eyes widening involuntarily with the sharp blow across the back of his head before his sight faded.

“Fuck!!” Donovan hissed venomously, flexing his wrist, the entire hand throbbed from the impact.

Katze suppressed the sudden irrational urge to strike Donovan as he looked down at the crumpled Blondie at his feet.

“You used the butt?!” He felt the back of the Elite’s head beneath the soft splayed silk with regret.

“He’ll be fine. He’s hard headed, like someone else I know.” The minder retorted and studied his quarry before heaving the limp Blondie across broad shoulders and carefully took the stairs one step at a time with barely suppressed curses as they walk ran towards the open limousine door at the bottom of the stairwell.

Donovan carefully lowered his unconscious burden into the plush interior, while Katze gave mono-syllabic instructions to the guard who would be driving while the Syndicate driver attempted to look nonplused by the unexpected changes to his itinerary.

They both stood and watched in the darkness as the signal light faded down the tunnel along with the two heavily armed vehicles that followed silently.

“Don’t wanna be you, when your boyfriend wakes up.”

Katze flinched involuntarily. “Me either and for the record, he’s not my boyfriend.”

Folding long powerful arms across his chest, Donovan chuckled. “You told him that by any chance? Cause I think he sees it differently.”

The dealer pursed his lips and glared up at his minder before turning toward the lone beacon of light within the darkness. “Walk with me.”

‘Oookay...time to change the subject.’

“Heavy fuckers, you’re a brave man, Boss. What the hell are they made of anyway, some metal alloy?”

“Flesh, bone, blood, just like the rest of us, Donovan, just more of it.”

“You are soooo fucked, Boss Man, I warned you.”

“Enough speculating on my former personal life, I want details. Who and why are we under attack?”

Donovan shook his head and gently grasped the lean, broad shoulder, stopping the dealer’s progress.

Cerulean blue eyes, now dark accustomed studied the bruised and battered face of his charge as anger welled in the pit of his stomach anew.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you? Look at you. You never let anyone get close enough to do this kind of damage.”

Katze shrugged off the tentative hold. “Drop it, Donovan. Answer my question, who is it?”

“More like what. Jupiter's favourite acolyte's on his way to see your prized Ruby. We’re supposed to keep him here along with his guests including Admon. I did send you a message to that effect, but I can see you were busy.”

Katze’s eyes narrowed, studying his bodyguard who was still favouring his wrist. He shook his head and retrieved his Com. Yep, there it was. This was exactly why he detested complicated human emotions, they got in the way. If he hadn’t been so pre-occupied with safeguarding Raoul, he’d have gotten the message and been tactically ahead.

“We’re the Med-Techs? Need to spruce up before the meeting.”

The minder pointed to the dim blue signage at the opposing end of the path.

Might have known that pompous ass would ruin this event and as for the other anal retentive, why in Jupiter’s name hadn’t Sir Niiro acknowledged his leader formally before attending the Auction? An example was about to be made to a select audience on his own watch.

Donovan’s eyes took in his Boss’s current rumpled state, noting the dried blood, the deviation and swelling of a once patrician nose and the dark circles forming under the dealer’s eyes.

“Yeah, you do in more ways than one, if you want to avoid questions.”

Katze did. He looked like shit. Above all else he loathed complications and having to justify his existence. “If you could see your way to...”

“You owe me, Boss.” Donovan snorted understanding the request.

“...make sure the trousers fit. I’d prefer a ‘non-sweaters’.”

“Well laaaa-dee-da, Boss. You’ll take what you get.” The bodyguard waved dismissively and headed in the opposing direction back into the shadows.

Donovan’s footsteps echoed as did his soft laughter causing the redhead to ponder the enigmatic being that was his number one.

With each passing day their bond wound more tightly, almost anticipatory was their connection. He had been right in his selection. A synchronistic selection as it turned out, fuelled by Guy’s own number one, Sid and an accidental meeting.

The redhead turned towards the light, his steps picking up speed with each stride. He heard a scuffle and raised voices. Target acquired. Donovan’s lewd whistle only confirming it.

Right, Meds-techs to alleviate the unbearable pressure in his septum. That would maybe leave ten minutes to skilfully corner the Ruby for a quick confab before the arrival of Iason and his retinue.

~~~BMR~~~

‘Why am I undressed?’

This was not his bedroom, in fact, these were not his sheets, but the subtle pervading scent was comforting as was the wrinkled, worried face that regarded him in an overly familiar manner.

“You are awake, Sir Am. Excellent. Would you like some tea?”

Raoul’s head swam as he tried to focus on the bent figure. “Kato?”

The manservant leaned forward expectantly, observing the rise of sentience in querulous green eyes that were beginning to look a tad malevolent at such close quarters. The little man stepped back a fraction as the Elite rose from the waist up with no effort, sitting ramrod straight in the bed, like an ancient spectre.

“Where is he?” Raoul growled, barely containing his rage.

“Perhaps something stronger, while you wait? We could not return you to Tanagura in your current state. It was the best we could do, Sir Am.”


~~~BMR~~~

“I should have dispensed with you, eons ago. You were never meant to be.”

He’d be awake by now and almost as pissed as the Elite staring daggers at him while being held in his seat by two of his best. The female was none too pleased either. It didn’t help that Donovan was currently sitting across her chest. Her own weapon secured across her windpipe, keeping her in check.

“Why didn’t you, Sir Niiro?”

Admon had offered no challenge to the armed guards as they strode through the crowd and retrieved the irritable Ruby and sequestered him in the observation box for questioning.

“You cannot keep me here forcibly, Furniture. Know your place. Things have not changed sufficiently to merit this liberty.”

Katze inhaled the invigorating smoke and exhaled slowly. “Ex, but you know that, Sir Niiro. Why are you here?”

It was like looking into a mirror, Katze thought, an exceedingly warped mirror image. A viciously cold version of his own eyes bore into him with unfettered hate. The dealer smiled.

“I demand to know why I’m being held against my will, mongrel. There will be repercussions of the highest order, when his Excellency hears of this. Your days are numbered.”

“Tell me something I don’t know...Sir?” Katze studied his cigarette, admiring the controlled embers that formed ash at its tip.

“I would beg to differ, Sir Niiro,” countered a smooth, silken baritone. “In actuality, it is your days that are numbered.”

All eyes turned to the open doorway where Iason Mink, head of the Tanagura Syndicate stood, resplendent in white.


Author’s Note

See, long chapter. I was a good girl! Hope you enjoyed. Let me know.

EP