The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal (http: so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with I've worked out that I can use a single '-' mark to separate sections. So, one line with a dash mark equals a change of voice, two lines marks a change of scene on the same day. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

ESCAPE FROM WHICH MOUNTAIN?

May 25, 2004
Creed struggled to keep St. Michel's arm over his shoulder while Sven limped his agonized way along behind him. This was agonizingly slow. His uncle was no lightweight and with Sven so badly crippled by the fall, the certainty that someone was going to catch up with them was growing.

"Gotta stop. Sorry."

Glancing at Sven, Creed felt despair wash over him. "Sven..."

"I know," the blonde muttered. "I know. But I can't help it. I'm barely managing to stay on my feet. If you'd just be convinced to leave us."

"To Carvel's tender mercies? I think not." Creed shook his head, "We hang together or we will surely hang separately."

St. Michel muttered, "Benjamin Franklin..." and for a moment Creed had hopes that he was waking up. No such luck. The man was so far out of it that though his eyes would open and he would actually look at things, he tended to fall into a stupor as soon as he was left alone. And I thought I had problems, Creed thought.

Leaning on a tree because - as he'd said at their last rest - he wouldn't get back up if he sat down, Sven shook his head. "Not if you find the police and tell them."

Creed glanced down at himself. "Been there. Tried that. Got the uniform." The slime and dirt ground into his hospital uniform was bad enough. The fact that the outfit was only worn by patients at St. Jude's was far, far worse. "A tale of sound and fury," he whispered.

"Told by an idiot... signifying nothing. Damn. You're right. And even if you change clothing, it's almost certain Carvel's passed the word to the authorities. He can't afford to have us escape."

"You're quite right," a new voice said as a dark clad figure stepped out from among the trees. "How nice to meet again, Diskence. Shall we resume where we left off?"

Lugado.

-

Staring at the dark haired man, Sven realized that they were in a lot of trouble. "Creed," he said softly. "It may not be possible to escape this without hurting him... or killing him." He didn't like opening that can of worms, but he was damned if he could see another option. Lugado wasn't the kind of man you could fool twice and Creed was at about the end of his rope. To expect him to fight without using all of his skill, without returning to his old self, was probably impossible. And if Lugado takes Creed back he'll kill himself. It's the only path he has left to him.

To Sven's surprise, Creed shook his head. "I won't," he said. "I do that, I might as well kill myself now." He gave Sven an exhausted and haunted look. "Train won't forgive me."

Sven wanted to say that Train would forgive a death in self-defense, but he dared not. On one hand was the fact that Train certainly would understand it if Creed accidentally killed Lugado. On the other hand, Creed might not be able to distinguish real self-defense from what his imagination created. He shuddered at the thought of releasing that on the world. "You're right," he said finally. "Even if he forgave this one, there'd be others. You can't handle the responsibility."

Creed said, softly, "If I can't beat him without killing him... If I have to die... Will you please tell Train..."

"I will." He turned his head, knowing he was condemning Creed to death and saw something that gave him hope. St. Michel's eyes were open.

-

Lugado stared at the man standing to face him. "I'm not going to kill you. Carvel wants you alive."

"That's fine," Diskence agreed genially. "I don't intend to let you take me alive. And I can't kill you. So either get out of our way and let us go, or fight. " He lowered his left hand and to Lugado's amazement the color of the flesh shifted to metallic, even as the shape became something long and slender, like a sword but with no edge. Lugado frowned, whispering, "Imagine Blade."

"No," Diskence disagreed softly. "This is something different. I don't have the mental capacity to fight with the Imagine Blade without killing you right now. I'm barely managing this much, so you're probably going to win. Not that it'll do you any good. If you win, I'll kill myself."

Stunned at the utter seriousness in the man's voice, Lugado hesitated. "Not if I keep you from it," he growled, leaping into the attack.

Somersaulting and rolling, leaping and dodging, the two men spent the first several minutes testing each other's defenses. On one hand this fight was a lot easier for Lugado's state of mind, for Diskence seemed to be strangely calm, as if the certainty of dying had emptied his thoughts of everything except keeping Lugado from doing what he'd promised. On the other hand, that same calm meant that Diskence took blows that ought to have injured him terribly - that Lugado was sure had scored - without flinching. He's almost welcoming them.

Lugado wasn't sure if this behavior was more disturbing than the just plain weird behavior Diskence had exhibited during their last fight but he considered it damned close. "Why?" he demanded, leaping backwards as Diskence performed an exquisite strike with his shape-shifted arm, the blow nearly breaking Lugado's arm. "Why so careful? Why not try to kill me? Why do you want to die?"

"I don't," Diskence answered, rolling out of the way of Lugado's knife blow and blocking the blade with his arm. "But I won't let Carvel have me again. I don't remember much of what he did the last time I was here but I remember enough. I won't go back to it."

"Then kill me. Stop playing this game of charades. You're barely a challenge this way." He wondered how the man could take so many hits and still stay standing, but he knew that sooner or later he was going to score.

"Sorry to be such a disappointment," Diskence replied, smiling sweetly. "But I'm not fighting to please you. I'm fighting because you're not giving me a choice."

Angrily, Lugado pushed himself into overdrive. He's going to kill himself anyway. If I end up killing him trying to take him in it isn't going to matter. Besides, maybe if I make the threat more real to him he'll put more real effort into this.

-

Creed knew he had no chance. Lugado had the speed and skill in this fight, where Creed was operating on a slowly fading adrenaline high. There was only so long that state of mind could last, now that he'd set aside his training, and he was losing it rapidly. He was starting to slow down and every effort to force himself into overdrive was failing. He was missing perfectly obvious strikes because his mind insisted on pausing to take in the sights. That squirrel really isn't all that interesting, Creed. PLEASE stay with the fight, he thought at himself angrily, even as he turned to watch the animal leap from one tree to another. Doing so had the inevitable result of allowing Lugado a chance to slam him a good one, sending him rolling off into the bushes.

Knowing perfectly well that all he really had to do was make himself think like the old Creed didn't help. He knew too well what that meant, even understood in a very basic sense why Sven - after his initial protest - hadn't encouraged it. Why Sven had accepted that Creed was likely going to die. Train. Oh God, Train. I wish you were here. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to stop him without killing him. He never felt so torn. Life was sweet now, sweeter than it had ever been, but to cling to it at the expense of what made it so sweet was stupidity. I won't break your trust, he wailed in his thoughts.

Apparently his cry was spoken as well, for Lugado paused, staring at him with that peculiar expression. "Whose trust? And why the hell do you keep getting distracted?" the man demanded and Creed shook his head, unable to answer anymore. He was losing mental ground faster now, beginning to drift off more often.

Lugado moved, struck Creed down with a sharp blow and knelt on his stomach. Ignoring the pain was easier than trying to escape it and Creed simply let his head fall back, meeting Sven's eye with his own and managing a faint smile as he whispered "I'm sorry." Then he closed his eyes and prepared to stop his heart.

Before he could, however, there was a sound of something striking something else, hard, and as his eyes flashed open he saw the arc of St. Michel's swing, a thick branch in his hands having just knocked Lugado from his perch. "Pick on someone your own size, you bastard!"

-

Sven took a deep breath, still a bit stunned over what had just happened. He'd not been sure that St. Michel had awakened enough to really understand what was going on around him. Was even less sure that the lawyer - though fairly fit for an older man - would be able to do anything to help. Still, when the man had slowly turned his head to look at Sven, had mouthed the words, "Can Creed beat him?" Sven had slowly shaken his head.

St. Michel's eyes had shown determination then, and he had watched the fight, listened to the two men as they struggled against each other and had seen how Creed had faded from the highly trained fighter to bewildered and wailing child in a few short minutes. As Lugado concentrated on the battle, St. Michel had searched around him and had found that thick stick of wood, choosing his moment carefully and striking fast and hard.

Lugado was too skilled a fighter to be more than mildly stunned by the blow, but that gave St. Michel long enough to get several more good hard blows in before the assassin could roll to safety and come to his feet.

Leaning down and pulling Creed to his feet, the older man growled, "You have to stay with us a bit longer, boy. I can't do more than distract him for you." As Creed's dark, confused, eyes stared at him, St. Michel leapt into the attack.

Damn. It's help, but too damned late. Creed can't possibly focus fast enough to be of use, and St. Michel's not going to be able to hold up for long. Already the man was bleeding from several long cuts. Sven gritted his teeth and forced himself to his feet and to Creed's side. Sprained ankle, broken leg or not, he was going to have to help.

"Listen to me," he whispered into the dazed man's ear. "I want you to form the Imagine Blade... I mean Sakabatou-ken," he corrected, remembering what Creed had called the version of the blade he'd created that could be used without cutting anything. "You can do it."

Bewilderedly, Creed shook his head. "No... can't..."

"Yes, you can. You're in a practice session with Train. It's Train you're going to be hitting at." It was a dirty trick, of course, but he knew Creed was in just susceptible enough a state of mind to believe it. "Now, I'm going to aim you and tell you when to swing. Got it?"

Creed's eyes were lighting up at the name of his love. "Train?"

"That's right. He wants to see if you can touch him. You just have to hit as hard as you can. Train can dodge, remember?"

A slow, trusting, nod followed the question and Sven really felt like a first-class heel. No choice. Gotta push the right buttons if we're going to stop this guy. He reached up and pulled the patch off his right eye, freeing up his special ability. For a moment he swayed, disoriented by the future-vision that his long dead partner's eye had granted him. Then, he grabbed Creed's sword arm, spinning the man around sideways and aiming him for the right spot. "NOW! Fifteen feet long and swing HARD!"

-

The sound of something snapping filled the air and for a moment Lugado almost believed that it was just the club the Frenchman had aimed at him breaking. Then the pain hit and he found himself collapsing on a broken leg. Sven's voice yelled, "Again. Left and forward. NOW!" Another blow. Then another, each one guided by Sven's voice, each one breaking bones. Lugado was good, could stand a hell of a lot of pain but there was only so much he could take. He collapsed into a heap.

Staring at Creed, he saw Sven's arms around the thin man, the Sweeper's hands clutching Creed's right hand. The eye that had been covered with the patch was revealed and its clear shining color seemed to gleam with a piercing light. For a brief moment Lugado thought he saw something flicker in the air, a shift of light and shadow that almost looked like a sword in Creed's hands. Then it was gone.

"Train? Train! I'm sorry!" Creed's stunned voice broke the silence and he broke free to run towards Lugado, falling on his knees beside the assassin. "You didn't dodge... Why didn't you dodge?"

Lugado couldn't understand why his enemy was calling him Train. He most especially couldn't understand why tears were pouring down the thin man's face. "What the hell..."

Slowly the dark eyes seemed to focus, seemed to realize that he wasn't looking at the Black Cat and the bewildered expression on his face became deeper. "You're not Train." A panicked tone filled Creed's voice. "Where's Train? What happened to Train? I WANT TRAIN!"

"Creed!" Sven's voice interrupted the madman's diatribe and the sweeper slowly, agonizingly, made his way over. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I had to do it."

"What the hell did you do?" Lugado demanded, struggling to get some strength back, struggling to find some way to finish his task. It was, he began to realize, hopeless. "DAMNIT!"

"You're the one who insisted," Sven pointed out, reaching Creed. "Creed, I made you think he was Train so you wouldn't kill him. I'm sorry. I know you're upset."

Creed's eyes met Sven's without comprehension for a long moment. Then, as understanding formed in those dark eyes, they rolled up in his head and he dropped, face forward, onto the ground.

-

"Creed? Wake up."

When Creed opened his eyes, it was to find himself laying wrapped in Sven's jacket. He felt bewildered and confused, but better than he had felt for some hours, telling him he'd had at least a couple hours of sleep. Sven's voice drew his attention. "Creed? We can't afford to let you rest any longer. St. Michel's hurt pretty badly. We need to get him to help."

Slowly Creed sat up. "Hover through the fog and filthy air," he grumbled, rubbing at his neck disconsolately.

"Great. Another quotation, and me without Google." A gentle hand pulled Creed's away from his throat. "Don't do that. You'll get the collar back. It's going to be all right."

St. Michel's voice said, tiredly, "Macbeth. Fair is foul and foul is fair."

Creed looked at his uncle and nodded approvingly while Sven muttered, "It must run in the family."

"I recall a very young boy reading Shakespeare rather voraciously," St. Michel murmured. "Which he would then disgorge verbatim. It annoyed your mother no end, Gil... I mean Creed."

A small smile managed to find its way to Creed's lips, especially when Sven muttered, "Why am I not surprised? I think the kid has some sort of irritation aura." The blonde sighed. "Never mind that. We really do have to get moving. Carvel will realize something's wrong when Lugado doesn't return. Or Lugado will figure out a way to get back up to the hospital despite all the broken bones. We don't have any spare time."

Creed got to his feet. "I'll pick that bone with you later," he promised Sven. "That was still a dirty trick." He moved over to where his uncle was lying. "How bad?"

"I could quote Romeo and Juliet, but I don't think it's going to kill me," St. Michel answered, wincing. "He got a lot of good sized cuts in, but no deep wounds. Worst of it is the blood loss. Frankly, I was glad of the rest."

"Sven? What should we do?" Creed wasn't quite to full bewildered confusion now, but he knew he couldn't depend on his instincts in these circumstances.

"We find someone with a car and get your uncle to the hospital. Then we call Train and have someone pick us up." Sven worked himself up onto his crutches. "Better hurry, Creed. It's going to be dark soon and we don't want to be traveling at night."

-

-

"They're moving."

"Huh?" Train glanced at the device in Eve's hand while Ten finished negotiations for the car rental. "How do you know? I don't see any change." The only dots on the screen that had changed positions from that morning until now were the ones that had to be his and Eve's. We're going to have to find a way to block that. I don't like that we can be traced by our nano-machines so easily. There has to be a way, Doctor wouldn't give this thing to us, otherwise. He raised a brow at Eve, waiting for her explanation.

"The numbers shifted. Only a bit, but they've stayed steady for most of the morning. I'd say they've moved at least two to three miles away from where they were." Eve looked thoughtful. "I wonder... could they have escaped?"

"It's possible," Ten said. "With Creed and Sven, anything may be possible. If Train were with them I'd be certain of it, of course, but I have as much faith in Sven's smarts as I do in Train's luck."

"Still. At the rate they're moving, they might get caught again," Train said sourly. "Let's go."

To Be Continued...