DARKSTALKERS: THE NIGHT WARRIORS

Chapter 5: Rendezvous

Fanfiction by Louis the Rogue

(Based on original story by Capcom Inc.)

It is only human to be afraid if you only talk to humans; if you could get an honest answer from the creatures of the night, each would tell you in turn that fear was only natural to them. However, you would be hard-pressed to get such an answer from the majority of the dark ones. Fear, shame, and even joy: the children of Makai wear masks to cover such things the same as the children of men.

On the noon of the day before the approaching Dark Tournament, a train chugged noisily along the tracks through a pine forest around the Transylvanian Alps. This train carried two dark ones who had yet to shed their masks.

The inside of the long, steel snake that was the train could be described as having a certain charm reminiscent of the turn of the century. Though not lavishing, the accommodations for the passengers were by no means modest; the booth-like seats that lined the cars on either side of an oak floor were furnished with a comfortable red cushioning, and the inner walls and ceiling appeared to have a lovely brass shine that set off the red of the seats. Though the steel frames of the doors leading between the cars were clearly modern, even these conveniences were painted over with a wood finish.

Among the many passengers in the cars, all of them dressed for colder weather than the journey currently provided, was a man with silver-gray hair, steel blue eyes, and a healthy Caucasian tone to his skin. He was clearly dressed for an event of some sort, his well-toned, lean-muscled frame garbed in a sleeveless indigo jumpsuit tied at the waist by a golden cloth belt that would have been associated with a martial artist by the way it was tied in front alone and brown sandals on his feet.

Jon Talbain, the name the man was most known by, had found himself sitting next to a white-furred catwoman with large blue eyes and long blue hair held back by a white hair band in front of her large white cat ears, save of course for a large, semi-curled bang that hung cutely out in front. For whatever reason, the girl had chosen not to wear any sort of clothing on her journey, and the fact that her fur grew beautifully over her well-developed body in a makeshift outfit didn't make it any easier to be a gentleman.

For this reason alone, Mr. Talbain had spent the majority of the journey so far staring out the window at the mountains, only daring a sideways glance when he was certain that his young companion wasn't looking his way. Unfortunately, luck was not with him that day, as it was the girl who looked to him and spoke first, "You look tense; big business trip or something?"

His casual glance shifted her way as he spoke with a smirk, "Yeah, the boss actually said casual dress was ok so I thought I'd bring my training clothes; they're so stylish and comfortable that I imagine they'll be making a comeback any day now."

The girl blushed in response to that, but laughed it off, "Yeah, dumb question, huh? My name's Felicia and I'm here on business of a sort from New York."

Talbain quirked a brow, "Business of a sort?"

Felicia nodded with that usual optimistic shine to her eyes, "Uh huh; I'm actually on my way to Zeltzereich to compete in Demitri Maximoff's tournament tomorrow. With all the crazy fighters from around the world, it should be a lot of fun."

"Oh great", Jon thought to himself, "I just hope I'm not the one that has to kill her." He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression perpetually condescending, "I don't know what your idea of fun is Miss Kitty, but if you really plan on going through with this I owe you a few pointers as a soldier and a gentleman."

"Pointers?", Felicia tilted her head in confusion, "So… you are competing then! Wow, you must be some kind've spy 'cuz I'd never have known you from A-"

Talbain placed a finger to her lips and shook his head as his eyes met hers in an incredulous stare, "Are you crazy or something? You think I want it out that I'm a…"

"A darkstalker?", Felicia taunted, "So what? You don't scare me."

"Well, that makes one out of twenty in this car alone, and to be blunt you're only seeing my better half lady", he grimaced, looking out the window again.

Felicia's ears drooped, and a look of sympathy came over her face as she placed her paw on his tightened shoulder, "It isn't easy being different, is it? If it's any consolation, The Lord looks upon us with all with loving eyes…"

Talbain crossed his arms behind his head as he relaxed in his seat, his eyes closed and a look of pure annoyance on his face, "Christ, spare me…"

Felicia almost winced as she took her hand away and looked down at the floor, "Have it your way, Mr. Talbain. I understand we'll be arriving this evening."

Talbain smiled roguishly, eyes still shut, "Yep, and I'm gonna rest up until we get there. You should probably do the same, Sister Christian."

Felicia crossed her arms over her ample chest and turned to face the hallway as she relaxed in her seat, her cute little face in a pout. "Jerk", she muttered to herself.

Talbain only smiled as he drifted off beside her.

Hours later, the sun was setting as the train slowed to a stop, steam escaping the wheels as it pulled into a square, wooden station in the forest. As the side doors slid open, the passengers filed out, Mr. Talbain stepping out behind Felicia, who walked with a straighter posture that normal and her arms still crossed, her eyes closed to cement her indifferent expression and her tail squared behind her.

Talbain actually followed after her, trying not to laugh, "Look lady, I'm sorry about earlier, but listen; in all honesty I think you're a nice girl and I don't wanna see you get hurt."

Felicia turned squarely on her heel and glared at him, "Thanks for the sentiment Sir, but I'm sure you've got more important things to worry about than little people like me, now don't you?" With a huff, she turned and walked off.

"Felicia!", Jon shouted after her, but she was clearly ignoring him now.

Behind him, a tall, ivory-skinned man with long, wavy lavender hair hanging over his broad shoulders, along with an ankle-length brown canvas coat that had a beige fur lining the heavy collar and cuffs and a crazy flame-colored decal stripe on the militant shoulder patches and in a zigzag along the part down the middle, walked up behind Talbain with a black guitar case held over his shoulder and an ornery grin on his face, which would have been almost boyish if not for his pupiless eyes that resembled full moons resting in pools of black. The strange fellow was lighting up a cigarette as he spoke, "Women – why bother?"

Talbain looked to him half-annoyed and half-amused, "Whatever you say, Ozzy."

As he walked off, the man in the coat stood where he was but laughed after him, "Yeah, an' you look real classy in that karate belt dude…"

Talbain didn't hear him though; he was speed walking after Felicia past a sign noting the entrance to Zeltzereich and down a path through the woods. Unfortunately, she was doing the same at this point and, even if he did catch up to her, he would have remained silent since he really didn't know what else to say at this point.

In front of the mutually unaccommodating pair, several other figures were making their way down the dirt road toward a castle on a plateau reaching high enough through the trees to be seen in the distance. Among them was a green and gold scaled creature who couldn't seem to make up his mind if he was a man, fish, or something in between, and a gorgeous, sophisticated looking blonde with green eyes in a satin-colored, form-fitting dress with a white fur boa around her shoulders and black heels. The others were too far ahead to make out any details, but judging by the confident way in which they all carried themselves, they were headed to the same destination.

Jon had just resigned himself with a sigh to leaving the girl alone when he heard the man with the guitar stumbling along behind him, "This'z a load-a-bunk; you'd think they would've put the station a little closer to the bloody castle're something."

Talbain rolled his eyes and kept walking. "If I'm stuck fighting these losers", he thought to himself, "I think I'll ask for a refund when I win."

It was dark by the time the group reached the castle, the sun long lost behind the gray clouds during the last leg of their journey. Castle Zeltzereich was no less ominous to behold than ever as it stood there before them on that dead, muddy land, but now torches hung beside the large iron portcullis that served as its' gate, lighting the area around.

There were ten of the visitors in all; standing amidst those already mentioned were five others including a white-furred bigfoot with a cocky smile, a tall, muscular mummy decked out in gold and blue who looked like he was trying to project an air of importance that only he recognized, a thing in a green jacket that looked like Frankenstein's Monster with better fashion sense but the same dull expression, and a disfigured ghost in a suit of red armor, jagged teeth bared and katana in hand.

There was one more who seemed to be keeping his distance, eyes on the others; a bald, muscle-bound man with tanned skin, brown eyes, a white beard, baggy white breeches over his legs, gold moccasins at his ankles, and a black vest with a golden trim to match the gold cuffs at his wrists.

Altogether, they must have looked like a chaotic mesh of cultures to the man who walked under the portcullis as it began to rise up above him. He was a thin old man with pale skin, long white hair that laid in a curl, and a pointed goatee dressed in a gray, tailed tuxedo with gold buttons down the front, and a monocle hanging from one eye. The torchlight cast grotesque shadows over his face, making it appear much more wizened than usual, especially around his fine Roman nose.

The poised old man gave a reserved bow and smiled cordially as he spoke, "Master Demitri welcomes you all to Zeltzereich; please step this way." With that, he grabbed a torch from beside him, turned gracefully around, and began walking inside the gate, the others treading almost silently behind him down a dark, marble-tiled hallway.

When they reached the light at the end, the contestants found themselves standing in a splendid ballroom with a marble floor whose tiles were checkered in gold and white. The white stone walls rose upward in a tremendous octagon around that, each side fitted with a large rectangular window that arced in a semicircle at the top, the panes of glass actually fitted into a golden web design that was unique to each window: only one wall contained no such window, and it was covered with huge red drapes that framed a large portrait of the castle's current master, archetypically brooding in the shadows. Above this was an intricate, red-carpeted marble balcony with a golden rail leading around and down an equally carpeted flight of marble stairs. Finally, above even that, rose a domed stone roof with a lit spiral chandelier of immeasurable size given the fact that, high as it was, the light it shed was enough to cast a golden glow about the entire room.

The host gestured upwards to three arced stone hallways leading back from the top of the balcony on the opposite side of the stairs, "The side halls will take you to your private quarters; I trust you will find them individually suited to match your tastes. As you know, there is to be a ball this evening in your honor, beginning at precisely midnight; it is then that Lord Maximoff will make himself known to you. Though you are all invited, you may choose not to attend; the Master wishes that you all prepare for tomorrow's tournament in whatever way you see fit."

Lightly bowing his head once more, the old man retreated up the stairs and down the middle hallway, leaving the others to their preparations.

Two hours later, the ball had gotten well underway, the forty-something servants waltzing across the ballroom floor, elegant ladies dressed in beautiful gowns of gold, white, red, and blue, and the gentlemen leading them in solid black tuxedos with blood red neckerchiefs in place of bows. Their perpetually smiling expressions were genuine; since having their souls tainted with the power of their Master, serving him had been their greatest joy, and every ball was a glorious occasion to celebrate for him.

Stepping out of the darkness of the left hallway was Mr. Talbain, his hair appropriately slicked neatly back behind his ears and his warrior's body now sporting a tuxedo as black as the gentlemen on the floor, with a white breast and golden bowtie that he kept straightening with a look of slight discomfort as he leaned over the railing on his elbows and watched the party below.

"It's quite a party for simple folk such as these", a sultry voice cooed from behind him; he turned to see the blonde woman from before, the elaborate emerald gown she wore tying up at the gold collar around her neck and setting off her equally green eyes that seemed so familiar to him.

Talbain couldn't shake the similarity, but the amazement seemed to cross his face for a moment before he lightened up, "You read my mind". With an amused grin, he offered his hand, "Jon-"

"Talbain?", she finished for him, pursing her lips in a quaint smile.

He nodded with that surprised look on his face again, "Yes, how did you know?"

The woman pulled a stylish pair of spectacles out of the jade-colored purse over her arm and smiled as she adjusted them on her pretty nose, "Yes, I never forget a face. I saw your street fight in London and was thoroughly amazed. By the way, I haven't introduced myself", she shook his hand now, "I'm Jean Bianca with the London Times. I understand you'll be competing in the tournament tomorrow. Care to comment?"

Jon ran his hand through his hair with a nervous grin, "Is this an official comment?"

Ms. Bianca smiled pleasantly to that, "Well, in all honesty I'm here to report on the tournament in general; if you wish to withhold your identity, I can always list you as an anonymous fighter, Mr. Talbain."

He nodded, "I'd like that; with all due respect Miss, you can't imagine what it's like to have to live a double life."

Ms. Bianca's green eyes twinkled through her glasses, "I'm sure."

About that time, an attractive young catwoman exited the right hallway in a sparkling white dress reminiscent of Marilynn Monroe, her exotic blue hair done up in an elaborate bun down her back accented with two lighter blue stripes of hair tucking around the bun and behind her ears to dangle over her shoulders, and topped with a white tiara in front to set off the whole princess theme.

Talbain's jaw almost dropped as he watched her descent the stairs silently, and he turned to the reporter with a half-apologetic expression, "Would you excuse me?"

With what almost resembled caution, Jon followed the feline beauty down the stairs and into the crowd, oblivious to the fact that she was smiling confidently to herself as she turned around and stared him in the eyes, "I'm curious, Mr. Talbain: are your feet as quick as your mouth? And if so, care to prove it?"

With his typical boyish smile, Jon Talbain took her paws into his own hands and assumed the proper posture, "Do you waltz, Miss Felicia?"

Felicia's eyes sparkled, returning his playful demeanor, "Naturally."

As they danced, step after step and breath after breath, the unlikely partners found themselves drawing closer into an awkward embrace, as if compelled to do so. The night seemed forever young for them, gazing into each other's eyes, and though neither knew why or ever would have had admitted it, at that moment in time they wanted for nothing more in the world.

Jon felt bad now for the way he had spoken to her; in spite of her simplicity, this beautiful creature's innocence was the very thing that made her attractive to him. He wanted to tell her, but he wouldn't get the chance as a familiar ivory-skinned man in a purple tuxedo with a black neckerchief stole it away, "Mind if I cut in?"

Felicia shrieked a laugh as she was swept back into the crowd with a new partner, leaving Talbain to shake his head and smile as he watched, "Son of a bitch…"

Suddenly, the dancing stopped as every one of the servants froze in place and looked up at the balcony, the remaining partygoers soon catching on and following suit. Atop the balcony stood the elderly host from before, smiling with empty black eyes as he waited for the noise to completely dull before continuing, "Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you all for attending, and the Master thanks you. He now wishes to meet you all in person. I humbly present… Lord Demitri Maximoff."

Walking forward from the shadows of the middle hall, his glowing red eyes the first coherent shapes to form in the darkness, Demitri exited in his familiar nobleman's garb and placed a large hand on the old man's shoulder, looking to the crowd with an expression that would have been solemn were it not for his half-amused grin, "To repeat my confidante, I thank you all for showing and look forward to our bout in the morning; if there be any truth to your reputations, it will no doubt be enjoyable for the both of us. Until then, I encourage you to make yourselves merry on this most rare of occasions."

With a graceful little bow at his waist, the dark lord turned and exited the room, and the merriment did indeed continue so long as the light remained in quiet retreat. The morning would bring many things; excitement, danger, and perhaps even death, but now was not a time to dwell on such matters. Now was a time for celebration.

Still, the morning came all too quickly. It would find all ten contestants gathered in the ballroom, which was no longer filled with the life of a party, but still as stone and quiet as death. Though red drapes had been placed over the windows, the room was still lit by torches placed on either side of the ground entrance hallway.

His golden boots making an echoing thud as he traversed through the silence, Demitri descended the stairs, a brass candelabrum in hand, and strode past his challengers to a specific tile in the floor, stomping down hard on it. Under the pressure of the thunderous step, the panel lowered and a door slid open in the middle of the floor with a whoosh of air escaping up the stairs leading down from the rectangular hole.

Demitri raised the decorative lights to his face and smiled with a sinister satisfaction, "The bottom-most levels of my castle comprise a labyrinth, and such shall be the grounds for my tournament. You are each to take a separate hallway upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, and will consequently each end up in a different room. The rooms all connect eventually, and you are free to wander and fight at will when the bell sounds. From that point forward, the winner is the last one standing. These are the rules to the game, and the game begins now. Shall we proceed?"