Hello everybody, my name is Full Metal Celt. This is my first ever fanfic, and I have tried very hard to make it good, so please don't flame me too much if you don't like it!
This story a collaboration between me and my friend Cal. It is based on an idea we came up with a few months ago, but Cal was working on other writing projects at the time, so the task of turning that idea into a fanfic fell to me. I was struggling a little by myself, but Cal has since agreed to become my co-writer, and this is the fruit of our labour.
Who Dares Wins is set in an alternate timeline to the Rosario + Vampire manga. It deviates from the current manga arc after Chapter 26 (of Season II). Inner Moka returned to being sealed away after spending a day as a "normal" student, and the seal didn't break, so there was no need for Tsukune and the others to go to Hong Kong. There are two key differences to keep in mind while reading this fanfic: first, Akasha Bloodriver is not missing/dead. We altered the manga's history a little to keep her alive, and she plays an important role later in the story. Second, Fairy Tail's agenda is different - read on to find out what they are up to.
Without further ado, I present my first fanfic: Who Dares Wins. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Rosario + Vampire, or any of the names, characters, locations and organisations which feature in the manga. This is a fan-made, non-profit work of fiction based on Akihisa Ikeda's fantastic manga, which I urge all of you to buy and enjoy when it becomes available in your country. Any resemblance the content of this story shares with real events or people is a coincidence.
Prologue - A Long Night
Youkai Academy
Far East Realm of Ayashi
October 3rd, 2015
The library had been locked up for the evening several hours after sunset, but there were few places in Youkai Academy Toujou Rubi could not access. The lock clacked as her skeleton key turned in it, and the door creaked open on old hinges in need of oiling. The vault beyond was dark, illuminated only by the pale moonlight beaming in through the high glass ceiling. Ranks of high shelves packed with books flanked the broad central aisle, in the middle of which was a long row of reading tables. A grandfather clock chimed the eleventh hour somewhere in the gloom.
Rubi helped herself to one of the lanterns behind the front desk by the door, and after lighting it she made her way along the central aisle towards the restricted section at the far end of the hall. It was seperated from the public section of the library by a gate of steel bars, an obstacle easily overcome with the skeleton key. Rubi had only ventured into this part of the library on four occassions - five, now - and it never failed to intrigue her. The shelves were fewer here, and less crowded, but every tome on display was a treasured relic, and contained esoteric knowledge that students were forbidden to access without good reason.
Holding her lantern up high, Rubi scanned the shelves in search of a particular title, but others caught her eye: the sole surviving copy of The Grimoire of Skaros, a handsome leather-bound volume of the Lemegeton, and a first edition print of The True Magus. Scrolls allegedly scribed by Abe no Seimei himself were filed beside the treatises compiled by Shimazu Yasu on the elusive Oni of Aokigahara. Kremmler's Bestiary of Khaos gathered dust next to The Register of Tartarus. A coppery stench tainted the air around the ominous black journals of the infamous Vorleina Dracul, who was said to have penned her work in the blood of her lovers, servants and enemies alike.
At the centre of a luminous pentagram etched onto the floorboards, a descendant of Abdul Alhazred's original Necronomicon lay on a table engraved with protective sigils and runes of aversion.
The Liber Arcanum had evidently not been used for a long time, and Rubi set the lantern down on a vacant shelf to brush some of the dust from its cover. She unclasped the stiff latch and opened the book, and leafed through its contents before snapping it shut and sealing it again. It was written entirely in Latin, and even the diagrams were alien to her, but the book was not meant for Rubi's eyes - the Chairman had sent her to find it, and she had. Tucking the Liber Arcanum under her arm, Rubi picked up her lantern and made her way out of the library, locking both the gate and the door as she went.
Rubi liked the academy at night. It was peaceful when it was empty; the atriums, the corridors, the classrooms, the cafeteria, the workshops... all were all unoccupied, and only the necessary lights were still on. Rubi's footsteps seemed to echo louder than they did when she walked through the school during the day, and she deliberately slowed her pace to enjoy the quietude of the place.
The Chairman's office was located in the oldest wing of the building, and Rubi knocked respectfully before entering. To her surprise, it was almost dark inside - only a handful of the many candles that usually illuminated the office were lit, as if a breeze passing through the room had snuffed out the majority. The Chairman stood with his back to Rubi, gazing out of the rear window with his hands tucked into his long sleeves. As befitting a magician of his calibre, Tenmei Mikogami occassionally underwent sorcerous procedures to prolong his youth and preserve his vitality - making it impossible to guess his age judging from his appearance - but as the Chairman turned to face her, Rubi saw a glimpse of the fatigue one would expect a two hundred year-old man to be burdened by.
How much fear and regret does a man like Tenmei Mikogami hide from the world? What bitter memories haunt his dreams, and what woes ail his heart?
"Rubi-san," said the Chairman, the melancholic expression on his face quickly masked by his usual countenance, a confident and sly visage."You have the book?"
Rubi nodded. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting, sir."
"Oh, not at all. I was merely admiring the moon, and reflecting on days long gone," replied the Chairman in an amiable tone. He moved over to his desk and gestured for Rubi to approach, and took the Liber Arcanum from her. "Thank you. A useful thing, this volume. Only forty copies were ever made, and I fear this may be the only one that escaped the great purge of 1862."
"It is a long way from Europe, sir."
"Yes, but unfortunately the Valderians' reach was long. Many a precious book was destroyed at their behest. Books can be replaced, but the knowledge they contain is not so expendable."
Rubi nodded. "Will you be needing anything else, sir?"
"Some tea, if you would be so kind."
"Of course. I'll be back in a moment."
Rubi turned and made for the door, but she had barely grasped the brass handle when the Chairman called out to her. His lambent eyes did not look up from the ancient pages of the grimoire before him, but he lifted his head slightly in her direction.
"Tell me, what do you know of the transformation capabilities of the vampire race?"
A chill ran down the witch's spine as the query dredged up the unpleasent memory of her encounter with Shuzen Kahlua. Rubi had once believed that Moka was the embodiment of the true power possessed by her kind, but the elder Shuzen sister had proven that there was more to the vampires than unsurpassed physical strength and seemingly infinate stamina. Other than what she had learned from observing or conversing with Moka, Rubi knew little about the descendants of Shinso, but she remembered Yukari's explanation of the sinister ability displayed by Shuzen Kahlua.
"It is taboo," said Rubi. "A forgotten technique. Vampires can alter their bodies, and turn limbs into weapons, but they abhor the use of that power because of their vanity and pride in their beauty."
The Chairman nodded. "A concise summary. Shame has driven the vampires to supress knowledge of that power, and there are few vampires alive today who can willingly tap into it. Fewer still are able to master it. A forgotten technique indeed... one that almost led to the devastation of the world, once. Unless we act swiftly, it may yet be the bane of mankind..."
"Chairman?"
"Forgive me, Rubi-san. On nights like this, my mind has a tendancy to wander," said the Chairman, reclining in his high-backed chair. He lifted a gilded hand-mirror from his desk and waved a hand as if trying to erase his reflection, and a moment later the mirror emitted a cacophony of noise. A medley of screams, gunfire and urgent voices mixed with the cries of monsters wounded and furious alike. Strobe-like flashes illuminated a face often masked in shadow, and Tenmei Mikogami's teeth gleamed as he smiled.
"You'd best make a large pot of tea, Rubi-san. It's going to be a long night."
USS Columbus
180km offshore from Nemuro, Hokkaido, Japan
October 4th, 2015
The mood aboard the USS Columbus was sombre. Everyone, from the lowliest rating to the captain himself, knew that something had gone wrong. Most of the submarine's crew were not privy to the details of the operation, but they knew enough to know that the men and women participating in it were in serious trouble. If they were still alive.
There was no way to confirm that they were. The entire unit had gone dark; the last anyone had heard of them was a garbled distress call recieved by one of the Japanese Self Defence Force's listening posts, where it had been translated from French to Japanese and English, and forwarded to the USS Columbus. From there, it had been transmitted to the CIA headquarters in Langley, then to the United Nations offices in New York, where it was then translated yet again and sent to relevant parties in several other countries.
It was long after midnight, but General Abrams was restless. Alone in his cabin aboard the USS Columbus, he patiently awaited the inevitable call from Washington, and distracted himself by dismantling and re-assembling his service pistol over and over again. It was an idle task he often resorted to when he was stressed; the familiar process of taking the old weapon apart, cleaning it and putting it back together was comforting. Usually. On this night, however, Abrams could not achieve the peace of mind his habit usually brought him.
A translated transcript of the distress call lay on his desk, and no matter how much Abrams concentrated on maintaining his weapon, he could not banish Professor Duval's final words from his memory.
For the love of God, someone help us! They are all around us! The men, they're... my God, what is that? No! Please! We need help! Someone -
Duval was dead. Abrams was certain of that. He did not need to speak French to understand the terrified screaming that replaced Duval's desperate plea for salvation. The message continued for twenty-two seconds after the professor's scream was abruptly silenced, and in that time nothing could be heard but the overlapping thunder-claps of rapid gunfire and eerie, inhuman cries.
As the commanding officer of the United Nations Studies and Observation Group, Abrams knew each and every one of the thirty men and women in his task force. It was his opinion that a commander should be familiar with the men under his command, and so he had taken the time to get to know each of the UNSOG operatives prior to their deployment to the Far East Realm of Ayashi. He would take responsibility for their deaths. Not officially, (though it was likely that his superiors were already thinking of reasons to blame him for the failure of the mission) but personally: each of the men and women had families, and it was Abram's duty to inform them of their losses.
The phone on his desk rang. Abrams set down his half-assembled pistol and cleared his throat before answering.
"General Abrams?"
"Speaking."
"This is Jonathan Cartwright. I'm sure you know why I am calling at this hour."
Jonathan Cartwright. The United States Secretary of Defense, and the chief executive officer of the United States Armed Forces. He was second only to the President himself in the American military chain of command.
"The UNSOG is under attack by hostile forces, sir," said Abrams. "Identity and strength unknown, but I have grounds to believe that my men are being overwhelmed. I request permission to sanction the mobilization of a Japanese military unit to provide reinforcement and extraction."
"Request denied, general. We will gain nothing by sending another unit to the slaughter," replied Cartwright.
"But my men - "
"Are compromised and, as you said yourself, overwhelmed. Their service will be remembered. Think about this rationally, general. Even if the Japs are given the green light to deploy reinforcements, by the time they arrive the monsters will be flossing the UNSOG from between their teeth. We have more urgent matters to focus on. I understand you have a back-up copy of all the data the UNSOG managed to obtain prior to its discovery?"
"Yes sir."
"Good. Then your men did not die for nothing," said Cartwright. "Withdraw from Japanese waters and return to the States for debriefing ASAP. The UN Security Council will want to hear your ideas for counter-measures."
Abrams frowned. "Counter-measures, sir?"
"Of course. Your task force has kicked the hornet's nest. We have to be prepared for imminent retaliation."
"I see. And what if they spare some of my men and hold them hostage?"
"Don't worry about that. Protocol Three is in effect. I have to go; I have three other callers on hold. It's going to be a long night."
"I understand, sir. Goodnight."
Abrams slammed the phone down and swore loudly. Protocol Three is in effect. How could Cartwright make such a dire statement so casually? It was one of several contingencies the United Nations Security Council had prepared for an event such as this. As of now, all members of the United Nations Studies and Observation Group were officially disavowed by their respective countries. If any of the operatives were still alive, they were on their own. Nobody was coming to help them.
The general picked up the phone to call the USS Columbus's captain and relay the order to return to America, but hesitated before pressing the auto-dial key. Samuel Abrams had no intention of disobeying orders, but he could not abandon his men, even if there was little hope of them surviving. His brain worked frantically to devise a solution. There had to be something he could do. He pressed one of the auto-dial keys on the phone and waited for an answer.
"Communications station," said a voice.
"This is General Abrams. I need to make a long-distance call," said Abrams.
"Yes sir. For the record, can you state the recipient and purpose of the call?" asked the operator.
"Thames House, London. I need MI5 to put me in contact with one of their informants. Codename Nosferatu."
So what do you think? Are you interested? Yeah, I know that Tsukune and Moka and all the others didn't appear, but remember that this is just the prologue! It is just the foundations for the main story. They all appear in the next chapter. I uploaded it at the same time as this one, so you can go ahead and read it now. I hope you enjoyed the prologue, and that it tempted you to read more.
Stay tuned! :)