THEME: "Feedback" - Guilty Gear XX OST
TYPE: One-shot fic
GENRE: Humor, or my pathetic attempt thereof.
SUMMARY: I have problems. O_o; Call this a little "meanwhile" while I'm working on Juggernaut - I'm getting to the point on that fic where I have to take a day or so to organize some of the finer-tuned stuff (chapter 5 should be up by later tonight). :P The premise for this little ficlet popped into my head yesterday while I was sitting in the movie theatre waiting for the latest Tolkien movie. Which, by the way, is awesome. Hot elf action, epic battles, mass bloodshed, orcs, freaky midgets with multiple personalities, pissed-off trees and dwarf tossing. What's not to love? XD;;
Usual disclaimer, I don't own Guilty Gear and all that. For reasons later explained, there will be a little OOCness ahead. You have been warned. Enjoy! n.n
for Athena Asamiya...
...don't say I didn't warn you, my dear. Merry Christmas. ^^
****************************
The scene certainly looked familiar enough.
Ky Kiske glared venomously at his opponent, who lounged lackadaisically against one of the massive pendentives supporting the arched ceiling of the cathedral. Puffing away on a cigarette as usual, of course. The dimmed shine of the Fireseal Sword was barely visible in the wan light from her perch on her master's shoulder, the distinctive red trim nearly black. Unruly dark hair and a metal headband inscribed with the slogan ROCK YOU served to shield the man's auburn eyes, giving them a hooded expression. In any other context it might have been menacing.
However, Sol Badguy's expression was clearly one of sardonic amusement.
"You're too stubborn for your own good, boy," he smirked in the most insulting manner possible. "I keep trying to tell you, there's no way you're ever going to beat me in a fight. Why don't you just give it up already and leave me the hell alone? Don't you have little old ladies out there spitting on the sidewalks? God only knows how many pedestrian areas're covered in saliva. You're falling down on your job."
The fresh-faced Frenchman stiffened, his voice edged with ice as he deliberately ignored the obvious sarcasm in his rival's words. "I'm serious, Sol. This time, we end it. This time we decide who is the better swordsman, once and for all."
"So stop yapping and come get some already, boy." With a deft yet nonchalant air the vagrant Gear-turned-bounty hunter wrenched his sword arm forward, flipping Fuenken smoothly into the air and catching it by the twisted handle. The weapon thrummed cheerfully to life in her master's grip, the low-banked heat of her intrinsic fire magic gathering along the edges of the pristine blade and ready to be released at a moment's notice. "I don't have all damn day, and I bet you don't either."
"As you wish!"
This uttered between clenched teeth as Furaiken screamed to life, crackling and sizzling vituperously with static in the same manner as her sister. Grim determination written clearly across his youthful features, Ky leapt forward in preparation to strike with a solid upwards slash of the blade. This, of course, was easily parried as Sol swept his sword arm upwards, muscle quivering with the force of the Knight's attack - but his defense held, and Ky's offensive didn't connect as he'd planned.
The fight went about as one might expect. For perhaps twenty minutes the two men continued to strike and parry, the magics of their respective elements bringing the lifeless marble to momentary life with shades of orange-red and blue-white. Strangely, both Ky and Sol were rather well-matched. Sol would plunge his sword into the ground and summon a streamer of flame - and Ky would immediately counterattack with a strategically placed bolt of crackling lightning from the Thunderseal.
Neither man seemed to really be getting anywhere, as a matter of fact, and for a few long moments it appeared as though the "epic battle to end all battles" would end in yet another draw.
Finally, Ky had had just about enough of what he considered a farce. As time wore on, he had started to realize that Badguy was doing what he always did when Ky challenged him. The older man was simply toying with him, not even bothering to use his full power - not even a fraction of his potential. This, naturally, was a withering insult to the likes of Kiske - he believed that the renegade was holding back simply because he didn't take him seriously enough to care about the matter at hand. And also naturally, Ky did what he always did when this particular revelation came upon him:
He threw caution to the wind.
Enraged beyond even his customary irritation with the insolent hunter, the French swordsman leaped out of immediate range of Fuenken's flames so that he could channel his own sword's power. His normally childlike sapphire eyes were dark with barely suppressed fury as he folded his arms across his chest, sword arm now wielding Furaiken on the other side of his body. "I will not allow you to dismiss this matter as something below your notice, Sol!" he screamed. "Every time we fight, you do this - no more games! Ride the Lightning!!"
"Feh..." Sol merely watched with clinical disinterest as Kiske charged him, enveloped in a blinding ball of white lightning. A slow, predatory smirk curved the corners of his lips as he tensed and crouched with the Fireseal braced before him to absorb most of the potential damage. Even as his dual-toned eyes watched the oncoming lightning-ball - even feeling individual strands of his long hair start to stand on end from the sheer amount of energy in the air - he began to summon his own nasty little bit of magic in response to Ky's extreme show of anger.
The kid may be a prodigy, but he never learns unless he gets knocked on his ass a few times first.
An unseen wind was ghosting around him and gradually whipping itself into a frenetic gale, partially due to the lightning-ball that was almost upon him and partially due to the building pressure of his own power. Ky had just reached him when Sol Badguy reared backwards with a wild, shrieking roar, releasing his channeled magic in an unbridled supernova of bestial energy. The OUTRAGE lightning crackled angrily as it struck him, jolting his body and searing his skin - but Sol, now berserk, barely took any notice at all.
"Dragon Install!"
Ky Kiske, taken completely by surprise, found himself suddenly airborne and juggled by searing heat and pain as the endless tsunami of fire ripped through his clothing and made contact with his flesh. He screamed in pain and thwarted rage and the flames seemed to go on and on.
After a few moments of agony the attack abruptly ceased, as if someone had flipped off a switch. The French swordsman-paladin crashed unceremoniously to the hard and unforgiving stone floor of the ancient church, burnt and badly bruised and bearing yet another series of cracked ribs for his trouble. This time, it was complemented with the hitherto unexplored territory of an extremely painful fractured left arm.
Sol was crouched a few feet away, holding his head in violently trembling hands. He muttered something unintelligible before rising to his feet and picking up the Fireseal before ambling towards Ky with a shuffling, still-unsteady gait.
Somewhere unbeknownst to either man, a young man stared at a television screen in disbelief as Sol Badguy made one of his trademark victory poses, then glared at the plastic controller in his hands before slamming the piece of hardware into the ground in extreme frustration. "Fucking A.I.!"
Ky tried to preserve what was left of his dignity by making an attempt to shamble into a sitting position despite the waves of pain that threatened to drag him into unconsciousness. The dual-toned eyes of his opponent were locked upon him in an intense gaze, but the facial expression was stony and indifferent. "Better get to a hospital for that arm, Kiske."
Before the bounty hunter could turn his back and leave, Ky stopped him with a single, angry query. "Why... why?!"
"Why what, boy?"
"Why can I never defeat you?! All I want to do is best you, just one time. I don't understand it. All I ever do is train and train. You do nothing, not a single thing, and yet you always defeat me. I just don't understand..."
"You wanna know why, huh?" Sol seemed to consider the question. There were a lot of things he could say, actually. Because he was tired of being stalked. Because Ky was irritating. Because Ky was a boy. Because Ky was French.
As he gazed at Ky's bruised but expectant face, he knew exactly what he was going to say.
"You sure you wanna know?"
"Yes!"
"I don't think I should tell you."
"I want the truth, Sol!"
"You can't handle the truth!"
A pause as the two men eyed each other.
"Fine," Sol said. "Okay, boy. I'll show you why you'll never be able to defeat me, even if you trained every hour of every waking day for the next fifty years. And if I do, you gotta promise to leave me alone. Got it?"
"Oui, agreed," Ky replied shortly, his curiosity starting to become stronger than the nagging pain of his injuries. He didn't believe Sol, but he was willing to go along with whatever it was his rival was going to show him. It might be good information to file away for a later time.
Sol lifted a hand and cupped it about the back of his ear. "You hear that music playing, boy?"
"I hear nothing."
"Shut up and listen for a sec."
And so Ky did. And as he listened he began to hear it, very faintly - yet it was so obviously real that he wondered how he had missed it before. A driving rock tune was audible just in the background, sounding somewhat frantic and yet determined. Ky realized that he had actually been hearing it the last few times they had faced off in this cathedral. The swordsman blinked in confusion.
"Eh...? Is someone outside playing a guitar?"
"Nah, it always does this. I get tired of it every now and then, though, so I think I'm gonna write a new theme before long. Variety's the spice of life and all that."
"I... I don't understand," Ky confessed grudgingly.
"Hold on a minute." And then Sol Badguy did something odd even for him: he snapped his fingers and shouted in the direction of the music. "Hey! You up there! Play Holy Orders!"
There was a brief pause before the guitar was replaced by a complex-sounding organ fugue. Ky blinked once more.
"How did you do that?"
"Easy. I wrote the music, I hired the musicians. They play what I tell them to play. That's your theme song, by the way."
"My... theme song?" Ky was now staring at Sol as if seriously believing the bounty hunter had lost his mind. And, incidentally, the Frenchman believed exactly that. "You aren't making any sense at all."
"Huh." Sol frowned, loosening the straps that bound his headband until the accessory draped around his neck. He absently scratched the area over the Gear symbol emblazoned on his forehead. "Much better. This thing starts to itch after a while. Hmm... yeah, you're right for once, Kiske. Music's not all that obvious. Here, let me show you something else."
"You are completely insane," Ky snapped irritably.
Sol raised a hand and snapped his fingers again. "Scene change! Mayship!"
Instantly the endlessly cheerful shit-kicking music that was Blue Water, Blue Sky flared to life. Ky yelped, blinded by the sudden bright light of the sun - it was an extreme contrast to the weak illumination of the Paris cathedral - and had to scrabble for a grasp on the slick metal surface of the ship, heedless of the pain that lanced through his side. He heard a sudden burst of feminine laughter, glanced backwards, and saw a gaggle of girls in sailor's shirts and cutoff shorts waving coquettishly in his direction. Stunned by this random change of surroundings, the Frenchman's usual courtesy deserted him and he whipped his head back towards Sol.
"What... what in the hell is going on!?"
"What's it look like?" Sol replied with absurd serenity. "I changed the fight stage."
"The what?"
"Fight stage. This one's May's, the cathedral's ours. Eh... let's get the hell out of here. This music makes my teeth try to reach around and eat my brain, after awhile." He pondered a minute and snapped his fingers again. "Testament's stage!"
Darkness reigned once more - this time, they were surrounded by broken remains of buildings and a rather unwholesome-looking skeletal statue. Sparse grass tried to spring up between the cracked paving stones amidst a chaotically swirling background. Vaguely, the music-box tinkle of Bloodstained Lineage found its way into their ears.
Sol shook his head. "I know he only uses it for effect, but this place still gives me the creeps. To each his own, I guess."
Ky's face was growing paler and paler as he gaped at his rival. "What black magic is this!? Explain yourself, immediately!"
"What d'you think I've been doing the last few minutes, picking my toenails?"
"How are you... doing all this? Taking us from one place to another.. and that music!"
"I already told you." The prototype Gear sighed irritably. "Jesus, Kiske, am I gonna just have to spell it out for you?"
"I don't know what game you are playing with me, barbarian, but I insist that you stop it at once!"
Sol eyed Ky for a long, speculative moment before an extremely evil grin began to eat like acid across his face. Warily the former Holy Knight began to inch away from him, still cradling his broken arm. Nothing good could come of that expression.
"My real name ain't Sol, boy."
"What... what...?"
"Ever wondered why sometimes you wanna fight me and you can't do what you wanna do? Can't pull off attacks you can always pull off in training?"
"I... yes..."
"You wouldn't even know those attacks if it weren't for me, Kiske." Without skipping a beat, Sol raised a hand and snapped his fingers once again. "Character change!"
"Ky, my pookie butt!"
The high-pitched, tinny squeal erupted across the empty bleakness of the current setting - and it obviously was not Testament. Too feminine, too abrasive, too annoying.
A perky-looking brunette pirouetted up to the swordsman in a skirt that was almost obscenely short, her wide brown eyes fluttering winsomely as she threw herself into his arms. She hugged him fiercely despite his yelp of startled pain. Her impossible hairdo bounced with her movements as she lifted her head and stared at him with rapture in her expression. "Aww, poor Ky! Just look at you - you're a mess! Come back with me to my restaurant. I'll make you all better."
Jam Kuradoberi.
Twisting his head past the Chinese chef, Ky fixed Sol with a look that mingled horror, shock, and desperation. "Where did she come from? Get her off me!"
"Not likely."
"I can't move!" The Frenchman twisted and turned desperately, but no matter how much he tried he couldn't move a muscle.
"I know." A positively beatific grin split Sol's rugged features. "Now d' you get it? Or are you still clueless?"
"You will not get away with this!" Ky's blue eyes once again lit with fury. "God always gives those like you their just reward!"
"Funny. I don't remember handing out rewards. Or punishments, for that matter."
Ky glared. Sol mock-bowed.
"Sorry to be the one to break this to you, boy, but that God of yours - you're looking at him."
An offended gasp followed. "Blasphemy!"
"Truth'd be more like it." Another snap of the fingers and Jam disappeared, as the bounty hunter leaned towards Ky, that wide grin still pasted on his features. "I am your God, boy. I made you. You, and everything around you - all of you are nothing but a huge-assed figment of my overactive imagination."
"Sol, you..!"
"Like I told you earlier. My name isn't Sol."
Another snap of the fingers, and the pair were surrounded by... blackness. No scenery, no music, just deathly silence and each other.
Starting to feel a twinge of fear, Ky Kiske shrank backwards, the anger forsaking his expression in favor of uneasiness. "Who... who are you!?"
Sol laughed, and leaned in closer.
"My name is Daisuke Ishiwatari, and I am your creator."
****************************
"You lie!!"
With a gasp and a startled jerk, Ky Kiske sat bolt upright, eyes wide, heart triphammering in his chest, and saw...
...his bedroom.
Twin china hutches with the priceless Japanese teacups willed to him by Kliff Undersn, his alarm clock, his vanity, his dressers, the ascetic side table bearing only a Bible, a pair of reading glasses and a small desk lamp. He sat tangled in bedsheets, his tawny hair tousled with sleep and a few hours of neglect.
The French policeman blinked, mind still befuddled.
...it was just a dream...?
As he thought, he started to remember. After work he'd decided to come home and take a long nap since he had been taking double shifts at the station for the last four days. He had challenged Sol earlier, and they were to meet at the cathedral today. Maybe it was just in reaction to that...?
Ky's line of vision traveled to the numbers on the clock and widened in alarm as he realized he'd overslept, and that meeting was supposed to be in thirty minutes. Muttering under his breath, he hurriedly stripped, threw on his uniform and ran the rest of the way, combing his hair and almost forgetting Furaiken, which sat propped by the bedroom door - shined and patiently waiting.
As expected Sol was lurking in the wan light of the church, leaning against one of the support structures for the massive stone ceiling. And smoking. Always smoking. It was as if the man didn't feel complete without a burning cigarette in hand.
"Sol!"
"There you are." An indifferent acknowledgement as his rival tossed the burning cancer stick to the floor and stubbed it out with the heel of his boot. "Let's get this crap over with already."
Ky nodded, though his eyes traveled uncertainly over the visage of the renegade hunter. He hesitated a moment before assuming his usual stance.
Sol noted that hesitation and frowned. "What's with you, boy? You look like you just saw a ghost."
"It is nothing - I had this nightmare." He hadn't meant to give out any details, but he found himself spilling them anyway. "I dreamed that you and I were about to fight, just like this, and then you beat me and I was very angry, and I wanted to know why. Then you asked me if I heard music..."
The French swordsman told the hunter the entire dream, and when he finished he stared expectantly at Sol as if waiting for him to drop him on the Mayship or Testament's ode to Lovecraft.
Sol shook his head and snorted.
"Boy, I think you have finally lost your goddamn mind."
"What? But - but it's true! You did all those things! I saw you with my own eyes!"
"Yeah, in a dream. Christ, Kiske, are you so far gone you can't tell the difference between a dream and real life?"
An embarrassed crimson flush began to spread across Ky's pale cheeks. "Well... I, ah..."
"Uh-huh. And you wanna try fighting me in that half-assed condition? Now I've seen you say and do stupid shit before, boy, but I'll be damned if this doesn't take the cake." Sol made a disgusted noise and reached into his pocket for another cigarette. "Go home and go back to sleep. Call me back when you ain't gonna waste my time, all right?"
"Yes... I..." Ky swallowed. So it was just a dream, after all. Sol was looking at him like he'd just informed him that the world was made out of cheese. Mortified and wishing only to save face he turned and shuffled towards the door, clutching the Thunderseal so tightly his knuckles were turning white. Just a nightmare. I just need sleep, that's all. Just a nightmare... "I think I will go home and do just that..."
Without even a goodnight, Ky Kiske stumbled out of the old building and back towards his home.
Sol Badguy stood impassively in the half-lit transept, watching the Frenchman make his bemused way out the door. The disgusted expression remained pasted on his face as he dug in his pocket for his old Zippo... then was replaced by a decidedly wicked grin as the door slammed shut.
"Abayo, Kiske..."
A flare of light and the sharp scent of burning tobacco. This was followed by a deep rumble of amused chuckling before Sol pushed his headband out of his dual-toned eyes and turned to the organ loft while snapping his fingers.
"Yes, Mr. Ishiwatari?"
"You know what I like, guys. Play it loud, play it hard."
"You got it."
A pause, then the familiar introduction riff of the theme Keep Yourself Alive reverberated against the stone walls around him.
"...I love this song."
***********************************
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This was possibly the most horrible attempt at humor I've ever made, but it was funny at the time, dammit! XP And I've always loved screwing around with poor Ky's head. He's so fragile... ^^; Right. I'd never tried my hand at writing a fic with these two characters, so I figured humor was as good a tool as any. Yes, the fight scene wasn't as clean as I'd have liked it to be, but it wasn't the focus of the fic, either. I might have to write more one-shots with the other characters, whee... but now, it is 3am, and sleep awaits. *_* Until next time...