Chapter 5: The Hounds of Winter
Second Miltia
Weathertop was a biological sport, one of those rare accidents that happened even with advanced bioengineering. Someone had gotten their wires crossed back at Vector HQ and put the wrong cell culture into the wrong Realian growth vat, and produced a singular being: A male 100-Series Observational Realian.
He looked like a Weapons-Grade, from the blond hair and handsome features, to the muscular build and abnormal strength. But it came packaged with the child-like body and the fine-tuned senses of the Chiban, along with the built-in Hilbert Generator. The small size was often galling to him, but--he thought, as he paced through the snow--it did have its advantages.
"Take these Tower-kissing fools I've been following," he remarked to himself, just for the pleasure of hearing his own voice. That voice was one of his best features, if he did say so himself; the vocal instrument of a seducer, masculine and commanding despite his diminutive size. His second owner had schooled him in the use of his mouth, both for speaking and other reasons; it was a lesson he'd kept even after he'd gutted her and stuffed her ovaries down her throat.
"Why, Weathertop, you might say. Aren't the can calah good at sensing the presence of the enemies of all existence? Can toi, do it please ya? Like that fine, well-favored boy up there with the silver hair--why, he can even send Los's good ghosts onto their second deaths with just a touch. Surely he might be able to sense one of Los's servants on the hoof, tracking him and his motley little ka-tet as they check what we did to their fine little village." He chuckled pleasantly to himself. He'd practiced that laugh, too. Pleasant, they'd said it was. Made him seem perfectly normal. Just what he wanted.
"But did Sai Cam-a, little white-head himself, notice me? No, of course not! Because Weathertop's small and clever, y'see. He hides real good, hides better than one of the snowy ptarmigan out here in this gods-blasted snow." Weathertop paused, kicking up a lump of it. "But it doesn't do poor old Weathertop much good to be sneakier than his own self in a dead girl, now does it, because his ki'can subordinates are completely incompetent."
He turned around, smiling pleasantly at the last of those same ki'can subordinates. "Does it, Roger?"
Roger was one of those ill-favored folks who God must have spit on. Only twenty years of age, he looked like a much older man from pox-scarring. His eyes were a muddy yellow, his hair the same color and perpetually matted in three different directions. His looks weren't enhanced by the fact half of his face had been ripped off, exposing the wormy red fur and rodent-like mandibles beneath. Roger was one of those rejects of the Prim better know as the can toi. Was will be the operative word in a second, as you'll see, my dears.
Roger shuddered where he'd been tied to a tree, squeaking like a pinky mouse in the back of his ugly throat. "Sai Top," he gibbered. "We'd tried to get the information out of them, swear we asked if they'd seen the Rose, it's just that m'brother has an itchy finger on the trigger, y'see, and then we had to keep them from running, and then their police-thingers, the gunslingers with the blue uniforms, they came after us and we had to put them down, swear we did, honest!" He broke off and whined.
"Weren't my fault! Promise it won't happen again, just don't kill me like the others!"
Weathertop let the rat-thing exhaust his pleas, still smiling. "Well, I never said I didn't have a bit of mercy in my heart. If you really say it was your brother who started that massacre before we could find out where the skirt had taken her Rose, then I'll be amenable to letting you down. But let me tell you--" He pulled a knife from his jumpsuit, flipping it open and leaning in. Roger's stench nearly overwhelmed his delicate senses, bringing with it the subtler signs of genetic decay. Roger, like most of the can toi, was being eaten alive by cancer.
"You'll need to," the Realian continued in a whisper. "Get down here and lick my boots, so they'll be nice and shiny when I walk into Uzuki's house to introduce myself. You get me?"
Roger whined, nodding rapidly. "Anything you say, sai! Just lemme down!"
"Well, all right then." Weathertop leaned back, indulging in a deep breath of clean winter air to clear his senses. "We'll let you down." He flicked out the knife, slicing through Roger's bonds and dropping the can toi to the snow.
Roger cowered, burrowing his snout in the snow and burbling. "Thankee sai, thankee, thankee for bein' so generous to a poor scrap such as I," he mumbled.
"Oh, don't thank me yet." Sliding forward one of his boots, the child-like Realian leaned down to pat Roger fondly on the head. "You've still got boots to be licking."
"Yessai! Right away!" And with another of those disgusting grunts, Roger applied his tongue to Weathertop's boots.
The Realian checked his embedded wristwatch as the process wore on, listening to his shoe-shine boy snuffle and squeal enthusiastically. That's right, make 'em nice and clean, Weathertop thought. Maybe I'll let you live a little while longer. He paused, mentally checking the charge on his Hilbert Generator--and grinned. Or not. It took only a breath to trigger his internal circuits, the fatal blue and violet and green bloom of the Hilbert Effect erupting around them.
Roger screeched like a rabbit being slaughtered, coughing up blood on Weathertop's boots. The Realian shook his head sadly, turning off the generator and sighing. "Now, see. You got them all bloody again." He raised his other boot and rested it on Roger's skull. "Lick it back up, Roger."
It took another thirty minutes and three applications of the Hilbert Effect before Roger's heart gave out, and Weathertop's boots were no cleaner than before. He left the can toi's body in the clearing, and continued on to pick up Ziggy's backtrail.
---
Fifth Sublevel, Kukai Foundation
With all the computer equipment and what scanty number of the Foundation's employees that worked in the second quadrant of the fifth sublevel were cleared out, the place had all the ambience of a mausoleum. All but the most necessary of lights had been turned off, conserving power for damaged areas that needed it more. Each of Junior's footsteps echoed off the cavernous walls, without any furniture or human bodies to soak up the sound.
He shuddered. Cold, dark, and empty. Gaignun, why did you have to play to him?
A hand landed on his shoulder, warm and solid. Junior glanced up at the taller URTV who had accompanied him, still frowning. Well?
Would you rather I had left people in here for him to torment, Junior? Gaignun frowned slightly. Junior looked away abruptly, chewing at his thumbnail.
No--no, I just...I don't want to do this. I don't want to deal with him right now. Or ever, but Junior didn't need to say that one for Gaignun to pick up on it.
Surprisingly, the younger URTV gave Junior's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Startled, Junior slowed, looking up at Gaignun again. The other URTV managed a wan smile. We could always just leave him where he is, then. Even with his abilities, that containment cell will hold him for another few months. You can face him when you're ready. He paused, considering, before adding: Better than letting him get to you like this.
It was an appealing idea. Junior considered it for all of a few seconds, before shaking his head and looking across the echoing room. The containment field was a dim spot of blue light some fifty feet away. The cell behind it was dark; Junior imagined that was because its occupant had taken out the light strips on awakening. Like some kind of crazy vampire. "No," he said aloud.
No. I gotta do this myself, even if I don't like it. He glanced up at Gaignun again, tapping his chest. He's my responsibility for as long as I can still feel his heartbeat. I've gotta make him stop being an idiot.
You want him back, Gaignun observed. Junior winced, but nodded.
I want him back. I want him to be my little brother again.
Gaignun patted him on the head. I'll help you however I can, then. I don't think this is wise, but we do owe it to him.
Junior took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah. We do." Let's go.
They picked up their feet, crossing the last fifty feet to the containment cell. It was even darker and emptier than it had appeared from a distance, only the glow and hum of the forcefield around it breaking the dimness and silence. Junior stopped in front of the field, laying a hand against it and leaning in close. He had to have heard us coming. And I can feel him in there. What's he doing?
Gaignun opened his mouth to reply.
"BOO!"
Something hit the forcefield hard with a thump and a giggle. "Dammit!" Junior yelped, stumbling back and clutching at his chest.
Albedo slumped against the field, still giggling and burying a hand in his hair. "You should've seen the look on your face, Rubedo! Tsk, tsk--aww, did I scare you?" The madman straightened up, pushing away from the forcefield and grinning at his brothers.
"You look so frightened! I can feel your heart pounding. Right--here." He tapped the left side of his chest, seeming to enjoy the glare Junior gave him. The madman's purple eyes flicked away for a moment, focusing on something behind Junior--before he gave another gleeful laugh. "Ahh! And you brought the Executioner, too! My, my--it's really my lucky day. Time for a little family reunion, huh?"
Executioner? Gaignun, what's-- Junior cut himself off as he picked up Gaignun's annoyance with the title.
I'll explain later. Deal with your twin.
"Well?" Albedo was watching them both expectantly now, still grinning.
Junior took another deep breath. "Naw. That would mean I'm happy to see you, you bastard, and I'm not."
"I'm hurt!" Albedo mimed taking a heart-thrust, folding his hands over his chest. "You've finally caught me, and you're not happy? Why, Rubedo," he leaned in, voice dropping to a purr, "I'd thought you'd be delighted."
"Nope, not happy at all." Which was a lie. Some small part of Junior was very happy to have finally caught Albedo. That same small part was thrilled that Junior had a chance after all these years to stop hiding his dark half and make Albedo see reason, no matter what it took. We are always the most forgiving with those we truly love.
"Hm." Albedo affected a pout, before glancing up at Gaignun again. "And you, Nigredo? Why, you've got no more competition for your attentions. Isn't that sweet? Of course, that is--" He straightened up, chuckling.
"If either of you is brave enough to kill me. Is that what this is about? Finally settling all our old debts?" He gave a little jerk of his fingers, the eerie purple light of U-DO's energy gathering at his fingertips. "We can finish it right here, you know. All three of us. Just for old times' sake."
Junior growled, already tasting the the consciousness's scent in the back of his throat. The power within him
(the red dragon, an organism capable of doing a great amount of good)
boiled up, clawing its way up from its hiding place below his belly and sinking fiery claws into his spine. He could see the red light building around him at the corners of his vision; already, his mind was clouding with anger, the need to release the Dragon and wipe this U-DO-tainted
(my enemy, my old enemy)
thing that stood before him completely out of existence.
"Albedo, stop this immediately." Gaignun's voice.
Junior, stop. Don't do this. But that wasn't Gaignun, that was a girl--"Nephilim?" Junior murmured, shocked.
Albedo blinked, looking briefly poleaxed--Gaignun had obviously put a little of his vocal hypnosis into play--before shrugging and relaxing. A flick of his fingers dismissed the gathering glow around his hands; with it, the red battle aura around Junior winked out of existence. "If you insist," he demurred, with a undercurrent of definite annoyance.
Junior took a step back, taking another breath and trying to relax. Okay. I'm okay, he found himself thinking. Once again, Gaignun lay a hand on his shoulder, steadying him. "That's not why I'm here," he muttered, to his shoes. "I--I need your help."
"Hmm? Say it a little louder." Albedo's look of annoyance transmuted to one of delight, as he leaned in close to the forcefield. "You're muttering and I--can't quite hear you, Rubedo."
Bastard.
Steady, Junior.
Junior looked up at his mad twin. "I need your help, Albedo."
Albedo chuckled low in his throat, resting both palms flat against the forcefield. "Why, what a surprise. You, coming to me for help?" He ducked his head, looking his older brother straight in the eyes. "I'd never thought you'd ask. But what could you possibly want from me...?" He pressed a little closer, so he was nearly nose to nose with Junior. "Do you need somebody killed?"
"No!" Junior snapped, then took another breath. "No, I don't need anyone killed, i-idiot. I need--I need some information from you. About what's going on. What happened with the Durandal." His poor ship...
Albedo's eyes narrowed, before he pushed back from the forcefield. He chuckled, looked away, tried to pass his manner off as casual disinterest. Junior knew better; there was unease under Albedo's feigned disregard, and it worried him. Even so, the red-haired URTV kept his tongue, trying to give his twin time to formulate a reply. Patience had never been his forte, but he'd begun to learn over the years that it might be worth it to show a little tolerance, even to Albedo, of all people. And where it concerned the damage done to his beloved Durandal, Junior was certain he could be patient until death, if it took that.
He came to regret the thought as Albedo's odd silence stretched into the fifth minute. "Well?" he blurted, annoyed. It was unlike the madman to keep quiet if he had something to gloat about, or even something to say. Silence was bizarre. Silence reminded Junior of things he didn't wish to think about. Miltia. He was like that--
He had begun to pull himself away from us, Gaignun opined. Even then, even before--
Junior swallowed. Albedo, oblivious to the exchange and apparently the entire world around him, continued to scratch at the wall. Junior grit his teeth; why did his little brother have to be so stupid sometimes? "Well?" he demanded again. He punctuated it with a blow of his fist against the forcefield, causing it to resound and crackle with sustained energy in protest.
The noise seemed to snap Albedo out of whatever reverie he was in. His head jerked up, and he glanced up with a smirk on his face. "Ah! Rubedo--there was something you wanted...? Hm." He composed his expression in a moue of deep thought, turning back to his chicken-scratch on the wall. "Now, what was it--tsk, tsk, my memory's getting so spotty these days, it's a shame. I think I've entirely forgotten--something about helping you? Ahh, but why would you want that? You've never wanted my help before--'I can do it myself, Albedo!'. Isn't that right?" He tapped a claw against the wall, and shook his head. "It's got to be my mind. Like a steel trap--old, rusty, and illegal most places."
Junior roared in frustration, one hand darting to the gun at his side. Gaignun moved faster, grabbing him at the wrist and paralyzing his hand with an iron grip. Startled, Junior jerked back, rage forgotten. Huh?
Don't shoot that in here, you little idiot. You'll get us both killed with the rebound. Gaignun's voice was steely.
I wasn't gonna! Junior felt himself flush, and gave another tug on his pinioned wrist. Lemme go!
But Gaignun didn't. He kept his hand wrapped tight around Junior's wrist, turning back to Albedo. The madman had watched the whole exchange like a voyeur, amusement shining in his eyes. Gaignun's icy glare did little to quell it. "He wants information on what it was that damaged the Durandal and the Foundation, Albedo," the diplomat said in a clipped voice. "Information we suspect you might have. Do you?"
The madman tilted his head to one side, eyes narrowing. "Why not let him speak for himself, Executioner? Or do you plan to rip out his tongue to keep him under your thumb next?" The words were a challenge, that much was plain.
Gaignun's eyes narrowed. Junior fought a little more with the hand holding his wrist, snarling. Lemme go, Gaignun! Let me--oof! When Gaignun did actually let him go, Junior overbalanced, falling smack on his butt. He began to pick himself up, only to stop and stare in shock as Gaignun took one stiff step over to the forcefield.
"Listen to me, you psychopath." Gaignun's voice was soft and commanding. "I do not know, nor do I particularly care, what your designs on Junior are, and I haven't since you abandoned us fourteen years ago on Miltia. I cannot imagine, Albedo, what kind of gall it must take to try and kill us, destroy what we've built, destroy our lives, our friends, and our families, and then stand before us and blame us for it all. I don't understand how you got it through your head that you are perfectly justified in doing this, and furthermore, in thinking that I pose any threat to Junior."
Junior stared up at his younger brother in mute shock. Albedo was once more looking poleaxed, staring at Gaignun as if the black-haired URTV had suddenly sprouted horns. Not to be deterred, Gaignun rounded on Junior, looking down at his older brother with a severe frown.
"And as for you--" The diplomat paused, then caught himself, smoothing his expression out. "--I fully expect you to have this situation under control. I will go contact Security, just in case you can't handle him yourself." And then, briskly: "Good day."
And with that, he headed for the door, back ramrod straight.
Junior blinked, and looked up at Albedo mutely. Albedo returned the look, and shrugged: Don't look at me. They waited in hostile silence until Gaignun had left the room.
Albedo gave a casual toss of his head, before leaning against the forcefield, arms folded across his chest. He watched the corner of the room in silence, before demanding, "So what do I get out of it?"
"Huh?" Junior picked himself up off the floor, rubbing at his offended dignity.
"Don't 'huh' me, Rubedo. Everything has a price. If you want information out of me, I expect you to have something to offer. Or else we can just go back to the way things were. Sans Nigredo and his bunched-up panties." Albedo continued to stare at the corner, jaw set. He wasn't smiling, nor did he even sound very amused, which worried Junior. Somewhere under the serious annoyance.
"I dunno, maybe I'll let you out of here instead of letting you rot?" Junior snapped. "Not like I'm gonna let you kill me, or hand MOMO over for you to molest her more."
Albedo let out his breath in a hissing chuckle. "Temper, temper, Rubedo. What, give me something I can already get? I can be out of here in another night." He didn't sound as absolutely sure of it as he usually did, but Junior might have been hearing things. "These prison walls can't hold me and you know it."
Junior's rage had ebbed out of him, leaving behind a weary annoyance at his younger brother's continued stubbornness. "Right, right. I forget you're all-powerful now, one step away from godhood, an' all that," he muttered bitterly. "Guess there's really nothing I can give you except to roll over and die." He turned away from the forcefield.
"How fatalistic of you, Rubedo! You've weakened so over the years." Junior didn't turn around as he heard Albedo shift behind him. He just kept walking away. "So you're really just going to walk away? I--ngh...heheh...never thought you'd..."
Junior stopped in his tracks, closing his eyes and raising a hand to his heart. He could feel Albedo's pain in his own chest, but he didn't particularly care. "Like I said. You can get out or rot in here or do whatever. I don't care anymore, Albedo, if you're going to make helping you so damn hard. I'm tired of playing your games. Just say what the hell it is you want, or leave me alone." He had too much to deal with between Durandal's repairs and whatever Wilhelm wanted him for and keeping the Foundation together to worry about what his stupid little brother wanted now. It felt like a weight lifted from his shoulders to admit that. I'm sorry, Albedo. I'm done playing make-believe; I've got to go be an adult now.
The slow dull thud of pain in his chest died down. Junior opened his eyes, and began walking away again.
"...So you're going to abandon me again." The cold certainty in Albedo's voice gave Junior pause. He stopped.
"You're going to leave me. Just turn and walk away from a part of your life." The madman took a shuddering breath. "We'd gotten so far, you know. You actually admitted to your crimes and I forgave you for what you did. We came so far along, and I'd thought you'd gotten around to admitting you're as much of a monster as I am. My other half and no one else's. And now--" His voice broke into a high-pitched giggle. Junior cringed. "--you're going to walk away again! Like fourteen years ago, on Miltia! Ka
(is a wheel)
is a wheel, after all, we're bound to come full circle eventually. You leave!" Albedo gave another shuddering laugh. "As if my love and my faith were not enough! You always abandon me! Always, always! In the time of my greatest need--et tu, Rubedo? You throw me to the monsters! But wait--I hate you, don't I? What's this traitor emotion in my heart? How dare I speak of CARING to the same coward who ABANDONS ME."
Junior turned around, meeting Albedo's hateful purple-eyed glare. Rage was stirring from the cold and weary ashes of his annoyance, and with it a horrible, black answer to his twin's bitter words. He set his jaw, watching Albedo stand there watching him, and fancied he could feel the rage boiling off his twin and volatilizing in the air between them. Gaignun?
Yes, Junior? Cool, crisp, and professional again. Just what Junior expected.
Hang on tight to the link. I'm gonna do something really stupid.
Muted shock rippled across their link. Whatever anger Gaignun had held before, it was replaced now by worry for his older brother. He didn't voice it. Very well.
Albedo was staring at him now, silently. Junior didn't look up, instead striding over to the holding cell. He pressed a hand to the palm plate that would deactivate the field, feeling it heat beneath his fingers as it recognized his palm-print. A second later the field flickered out of existence, to the sound of Albedo laughing. Junior steeled himself, preparing to step into the cell.
He was interrupted by a clawed hand grabbing the lapels of his coat, hauling him up off his feet. Shortly enough he found himself eye to eye with his mad twin, scrabbling at his brother's wrists as Albedo continued to laugh softly. "How funny. So you're going to let me go anyway...?"
Junior smiled a little, stretching out psychic senses he'd left long unused. Albedo could kill him, but he didn't think that was going to happen. "Sorry, little brother," Junior managed through a clenched jaw. "Joke's on you."
He ripped open dormant link between them.