To everyone who read Culmination, and especially those who offered feedback, thank you so much—I really appreciate the time and support you've spent on me. The hardest part in starting this sequel was trying to think of something that could out-drama Sol vs Ky, and though I'm not sure if what I've come up will do the trick, I'll do my best and I hope I won't disappoint you all.
Thanks again, I hope you enjoy the fic .
Thunder FallingPrologue
One Month Later
"I refuse to believe," Ky Kiske stated firmly, though with tightly restrained temperament, "that this establishment is without measures to deal with the situation."
The Chairman sighed quietly, the sound just barely audible through the gleaming mirror that served as their communicator. "Sir Kiske," he returned in equal tone, "the United Nations takes the recent threat to your life very seriously." On similar screens about the room, the representatives nodded their heartfelt agreement. "The public outcry has been tremendous, and we are responding as best we can."
Ky's eyes narrowed irritably. "However."
"However," the aging man continued, "our investigation has given us very little to go on. Even with the help of Zepp and searching A-Country, we have no leads as to who might be responsible, let alone how to deal with them. Arthur Galleon Sr. was reported as decades many years ago—there is no way to trace with whom he might have been affiliated."
Ky released his breath in a heavy, frustrated sigh. He had not returned to Paris, away from the scene of the investigation, only to hear that their government was making no progress in his absence. "And Dr. Mariot?" he persisted, his fingers tightening around each other. "She was a former scientist for the United Nations—our people. She must have a traceable history."
A man at the Chairman's left cleared his throat lightly: Sir Reames, who had taken over the investigation in Ky's place during his recovery. "We were able to determine that Leona Mariot was, in fact, the biological daughter to Arthur Galleon Sr. Other than that she has no family, and we've been unable to discover any contacts she might have had, or under whose orders they were operating."
A cold chill ran the length of Ky's spine, and when he lifted his eyes again to the circle of projected faces, his expression was hard. "You all know very well," he said lowly, "whose orders they were operating under."
The Chairman straightened in his chair, and several of the other representatives muttered among themselves. "Officer Kiske. I thought we had agreed that this topic would not be raised during our serious delegations any longer."
"You can't all pretend you don't know—we're talking about the order of our—"
"The Postwar Administration Bureau no longer exists," the Chairman interrupted tersely. "It has long since been disbanded. We are not at war anymore, Officer Kiske." He leaned back, folding his hands over his podium. "This is a time of growth, of development. I would have thought that you, most of all, would be eager to put that era behind us."
Ky pressed his lips thin to keep from scowling, starting to push to his feet. "Mr. Chairman—"
"Sir Kiske." He was interrupted again, this time by the quiet voice of a young woman to his left. "We share your frustration," A-Country's delegate continued. "But our enemy has many disguises. We must start where we can."
The Chairman frowned severely, but her words calmed Ky somewhat, and slowly he retook his seat. "Yes, of course," he murmured with a respectful nod. "Forgive me for being rash."
"We will find your attackers, Sir Kiske," the Chairman took up once more. "But for now, the world is glad to see you safely home. Please focus your efforts for the moment on reassuring the public—that, at least, is sure to ease Sir Reames' investigation."
"Yes. I understand." Seeing no further reason to remain, Ky stood, and offered a formal bow to the assembled representatives. "Thank you, Sirs and Madams, for your time here today. I will do everything in my power to serve the World Government."
"Of course you will."
One by one the different gleaming mirrors lost their light; the image of Erica Bartholomew to his left was the last to fade, her gaze meaningful. Ky waited until each had gone out before stepping away from the room's only desk and heading for the small door.
"Finished, Sir Kiske?" one of his officers greeted him outside, offering him his cloak.
"Yes. Thank you." Ky tugged the heavy fabric over his shoulders with a stifled sigh. "I'm afraid we haven't made much progress."
"Give it time, Sir Kiske. It's barely been a month—a lead is bound to surface."
"Yes, of course. Thank you." Offering the woman a weary smile Ky made his way through the thin hallways, past several uniformed guards and locked gates, out onto the street once more. Though the Records and Communications Building located at Paris's city center was small, it was heavily protected—for the sake of items held inside more valuable than the Viewing Mirrors for the world's representatives.
A carriage was waiting for him at the corner, bearing the arms of the Global Police, and Ky assured the driver his business has been conducted as he slipped inside. As the horses began to pull away from the curb Ky settled himself. He was remaining calm, he repeated in his mind. There was no need to get worked up at this point. Their enemy was in retreat, and as soon as they attempted to move again he and his officers would be ready; regardless of whatever his superiors thought of it.
"That's not a look of overwhelming optimism, isn't it?"
Ky jumped, and his sword was nearly lifted when a hand came down heavily on his wrist. There was force there he would not have felt in even some of his best opponents. He stilled cautiously as he lifted his gaze to the intruder's face—his eyes widened slightly in recognition.
Seated next to him was an older gentleman in a charcoal suit, calmly retrieving his hand to light his pipe. "My apologies," he said, his lips curled in amusement. "But I thought you might want to hear what I have to say, before dismembering me."
"We've met before," Ky said guardedly, relaxing but only just. "Months ago."
"A few weeks before your little trip to Italy, yes." Slayer puffed lightly on his pipe. "I'm relieved to see you've regained your health."
Ky's eyes narrowed. "Your concern is appreciated. Now exactly who are you?"
"No one of consequence. I only came to offer you my reassurances."
"Reassurances?"
Slayer's lip quirked, and he fixed Ky with a sly eye. "I know what you want, Sir Kiske. And I can very well hand it to you."
Though Ky's doubts ran deep enough to show clearly in his face, his attention was sharp on the other man. "And what makes you think," he challenged, "you know what I'm after?"
"You're the police—you people are always after the same thing," Slayer chuckled. "In this case I can be a bit more specific." His humor abruptly vanished. "You can't have the Bureau, Kiske. But you can take their hands."
Ky straightened, a bit of his earlier caution fading in favor of curiosity. "You're talking about the Assassin's Guild."
"I am."
His eyes narrowed. "I don't make deals with criminals."
Slayer's good spirits returned with a laugh. "And what makes you think I'm one of those?"
Ky started to reply, but by then Slayer was already lifting a hand to silence him. "Never mind. And don't worry—I'm not offering any deals. I wouldn't want to soil your reputation." He paused to puff at his pipe.
"And?" Ky prompted impatiently. "What do you want?"
"Just to assure you that you still have allies," Slayer replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "The Bureau was hit harder by your little Italian tantrum than you know, and they're backpedaling. Thanks to a little help from me even the Guild is on its way out. If you strike now you'll scatter them." He tilted his chin up. "Allowing you to focus on more…important adversaries."
Ky's expression hardened, and he would have insisted on further explanation when the carriage suddenly halted: they had reached the Headquarters of the Global Police. He glanced out the window only a moment, and when he looked back his company had somehow faded to little more than a shadow against the upholstery. "Wait—"
"Keep your wits, Kiske," Slayer told him firmly as his figure lost its color and gradually vanished. "The late Mr. Galleon was only a warm up."
Ky reached for him, but when his hand touched Slayer's shoulder it disintegrated abruptly into thin particles of smoke. A moment later there was no trace left of the man, save the lingering odor of his pipe's tobacco.
The carriage door twisted open abruptly, and the officer started when Ky whirled to face him. "Um…we're here, sir. Is something the matter?"
"No…." Ky frowned severely, and he tightened his cloak around him as he exited the carriage. "No, of course not. But I need to speak to our branch in A-Country right away."
One Month Later
The passageways of crude iron and stone had only ever been poorly lit. They sloped and twisted in sharp angles, mazelike, through hollowed out shells of former buildings, sometimes carving deep below the earth. No symmetry or reason could be applied to the headquarters of the Assassin's Guild, in structure or in occupancy. The men that slid up and down the tilted corridors were silent and cold like half-formed ghosts, and when two passed they gave the appearance of having moved completely through each other, unhindered. There were no glances of acknowledgement, no greetings. It had always been that way.
There was only one man who could claim to receive respect from any of their Guild, and it was that icon of their kind that Venom was on his way to meet at present. He stuck out oddly from those he encountered along the corridors, clad in white against the night's shadows. When he passed a broken window along his path the moonlight made him appear to glow. The sight turned a head or two which he never saw; his focus was fixed intently on his way, on the subtle illumination of a door's outline at the end of the hall.
A clap of sharp sound echoed down the passage towards him, not unlike a strike of skin, and a moment later Venom was met with the woman's bright and accusing eyes. She stalked past him without a word, her hair skittering across his arm in the relative enclosure of the hall they shared. He did not avert his gaze from his goal but his lips twisted in a disapproving frown, even if this was not an uncommon sort of meeting for them.
Venom continued to the doorway in a slower pace, and there stood a moment—yet unnoticed, it was the only chance he had.
The room was small and dark, a bed in the corner and nothing else. It bore one window that was its only source of light; silver moonlight formed a dim shaft from its opening to the floor, misshapen by the interrupting figure of a man. He was leaning against the stone sill, arms folded and face unimpassioned. In the faint light Venom could only just barely make out the subtle blossoming of angry red across his cheek.
Venom's eyes narrowed, and though his voice was quiet it managed to echo in the small room. "Lord Zato."
Zato-1 tilted his chin up slightly, and for a long moment that was the only indication of acknowledgement he gave. But Venom would not enter until he had been invited, and at last he surrendered a falling of his shoulders. "Come in."
Venom moved smoothly to the window, each step measured and without sound. The brush of hair against his features would give his blind master enough indication of his movement and location. "Lord Zato," he repeated, bowing his head slightly in offered respect. "Our mission was a success."
Zato-1 nodded vaguely, his head turned toward the window; it seemed a strange gesture for a man who couldn't see the curved arches that made up the view, the pale gleam of stars in the distance. "Then you are dismissed, until I need you."
Venom bowed again. "Yes, Lord Zato." He hesitated, risking glances at his master's stern, troubled profile. "Are you…all right, Sir?"
"You're not needed. Leave me."
Venom straightened, and remained still despite the order. "I mean no offense," he said carefully. "I'm only…concerned." A tremor of indignation made him bold. "I do not approve of her blatant disrespect."
Zato-1's head turned to face him, and despite all their years of acquaintance it was still eerie, and alluring, to be so firmly fixated by a gaze that wasn't there. "We're not speaking of her."
Venom's fingers curled stiffly at his sides. He relented, as always. "Very well, Sir."
"I already know your feelings, anyway." Zato-1 looked once again to the window, unmoved. "And I don't care for them. Are you leaving, now?"
"If…you wish." But still Venom hesitated, and he could tell by his master's posture that it was only what was expected of him. He was not so unused to insubordination himself. "I am sorry," he murmured, though he wondered if his words could convey his meaning well enough. "I wish I could be of some good to you, Lord Zato."
Zato-1 sighed abruptly, his arms slipping apart so he could rest his hand on the window sill. His stance and expression softened as it only ever did in the presence of his most trusted companion. "There's no understanding her," he muttered bitterly. "I should have released her from us a long time ago. Nothing will come of keeping her."
Venom watched his master with a stirring of hope, which he tried to admonish himself for. "I know it's not an easy decision for you," he said quietly. "But I am at your side, my Lord. Whatever you decide, I will support you."
A smirk, thin and faintly cruel, tugged the corners of Zato-1's mouth. He reached out suddenly, and Venom flinched just barely as worn fingertips spread over his forehead, sliding the curtain of thick hair away from his face and tucking it behind his ear. It was a careless gesture, and Venom both adored and loathed how easily he was offered those thoughtless attentions. How vulnerable it made him feel with his countenance fully exposed.
"Yes, I know," Zato-1 said as he retrieved his hand. "You always do."
Venom's lips parted in want of an appropriate response, but for another awkward moment he could find none. Zato-1 was still…watching him, it seemed, though in truth there was no telling. The air around them felt heavy and unreal. Venom's body moved without him. Spurred on by some strange, unwarranted confidence he leaned closer. He felt Zato-1 shift, confused and uncertain by the sudden proximity, and tasted a spill of warm breath across his lips. He touched a stern cheek to guide Zato-1's mouth to his.
The contact didn't last long enough to be called a kiss. The sensation of brushing lips was covered swiftly by a firm hand against Venom's shoulder, shoving him back. Already lightheaded he stumbled on the uneven ground and almost lost his balance—would have, if not for his instinctual grab for the window sill. Stunned by his own actions and the response he had received for them, he looked hesitantly to his master's face.
Zato-1 snorted, scraping the back of his palm ungracefully across his mouth. "That's not funny," he chided with a scowl.
Venom felt his insides grow cold, and before he could struggle towards an explanation the small room was filled with the sound of low, deep laugher. A pair of gleaming crimson eyes was watching him from the mix of shadows behind the still disgruntled Zato-1. Venom straightened, and couldn't help a shiver. "You…."
"Charming," the low voice purred, its eyes flashing in the dark.
Without warning the beast flew from hiding, leaving Venom no chance to avoid as night-black fangs sank into the base of neck and shoulder. A pained cry welled in his throat but wouldn't sound; he only gasped, shivering at the first trails of warm blood drawing a path over his chest. He looked desperately to his master and found only a mass of shadow, swirling and indistinct. "Lord Zato—!"
Venom's eyes snapped open. His breath was coming in labored gasps, and the pain of teeth searing his flesh sharpened abruptly into even greater potency. His arms were slow to command but when they obeyed, it wasn't cold, formless flesh his hands tightened against—it was hair, and the coarse fabric of a man's collar. His voice finally leapt from him in a startled cry as he dug his fingers into the jaws clamped about his throat. His attacker relented, leaving him panting and nauseous on a flat, hard mattress.
"My apologies for disturbing you," the deep voice chuckled again, and this time recognition struck him. "But you looked so beautiful, resting there."
Venom pushed himself onto his knees, pressing his hand tightly to the jagged wound in his shoulder. His gaze swam a moment before rising to focus on his attacker's calm face. He choked on a curse. "Slayer…!"
The vampire licked his lips daintily, though by now most of the blood had seeped into his beard. "Venom," he returned in greeting. He made a show of straightening his coat and tie. "I just stopped by to check up on you—to see how my Guild was faring—and you just happened to look…so delicious. I couldn't help myself."
Venom scowled, his gaze flicking across the room in search of his weapon—it was leaned against the wall just behind Slayer, not where he'd left it. "This Guild is no longer yours," he hissed, though he didn't yet try to move from his kneeling position on the mattress. "Leave! Before I wake the rest and drive you out!"
Slayer chuckled and shook his head. "You know better than I that there is no one," he drawled. "Your men have deserted you. Your Guild has perished."
Venom's pulse throbbed in his temples and against his hand as he pushed to his feet. "Never," he growled. "As long as I breathe, I—"
"I created this little club of yours," Slayer interrupted smoothly, "and now I end it." He turned slightly towards the window. "The only reason I won't kill you along with it is because I know it's what you've wanted all along."
"You…." Venom's eyes widened, and he clenched his fist tightly to hide the fact that his hands were shaking. "How dare you." In anger he leapt at the creature. "Damn you!"
Slayer stepped neatly to the side, twisting to plant his knee firmly in Venom's gut. The impact stole his breath and sent him reeling back onto the mattress. "You can thank me later," the vampire chuckled, turning away once more. Two strides carried him to window, a short hop to its jagged sill.
"Wait—" Venom clawed his way back to his feet, ignoring the refreshed flow of blood over his shoulder and chest. "Wait!"
"Good Evening, Assassin." With a wry smirk Slayer propelled himself from the window, just before Venom reached him—his fingers brushed the edge of a coattail but nothing more as the vampire sailed easily down the several stories to the earth. Once there, he melted easily back into the shadows and rocks.
Venom leaned over the window's edge, desperately scanning the area below for any indication of his fleeing enemy, but he saw nothing—no ripple of movement, no outline of a man's shape. He had gone.
Nearly a full minute passed, and then, slowly, Venom lowered himself to his knees. A tiny murmur of pain escaped him as he covered his wound again with his hand. It was shallow and would soon stop, without threat to his life—as promised. He sighed, low and deep. Slayer has spoken truthfully; this twisted compound, though having always been shadowed and silent, in its emptiness felt more desolate and cold than ever. The men had left one by one despite his protests and threats, even when he had killed some as examples. The rooms now stood as empty as his former master's.
Venom closed his eyes, pressing close against the cold stone wall beside him. "Zato…."
One Month Later
He waited for her in the dark. He was old, and so he had the patience for it. It was a trait he would have to instill in his progeny before long; the creature at his side was tapping his long nails against the armrest of his chair in a way he found vaguely irritating. Not that he was entirely unaccustomed to petty nuisances.
"I thought she was going to be here soon," the creature grumbled.
"She's on her way," he reminded him calmly, resting his elbows casually on his knees.
"She's unreliable."
He smiled thinly. "She's a woman. She'll get here on her own time."
The creature snorted, though at least the tapping of his nails stopped when he crossed his arms. "You spoil her."
"And you have a lot to learn." The man lifted his head slightly, though the movement did nothing to expose his face to the dull lights over him. "Here she comes."
"Hmph. She's not alone."
"So it would seem…."
The sound of her boots echoed throughout the chamber as she approached, and a moment later the woman herself stepped into their small circle of pale light. She was wrapped in tight red leather from head to toe, with tall boots that crawled up her thighs and an oversized, pointed hat. "It's not my fault," she muttered through a twisted scowl as she sauntered to her master's side. "He followed me home."
Slayer was smirking lightly as he, too, stepped out of the shadows. His hands were resting lightly in his pockets, his manner pleasant. "And a charming home it is."
The man straightened subtly, and if his face showed surprise none of them could see it beneath the veil covering it. "Nightwalker. It…has been many years."
"Too many, old friend." He glanced from the man, to the woman at his left, and at last the creature beside him. "I haven't met your companion here."
The creature, an imposing figure at seven feet tall with a broad chest and toned limbs, regarded their guest with mixed disdain and curiosity. "You're a vampire."
"You're perceptive."
"I'll be more than happy to introduce you properly," the man interrupted, drawing both their attentions back. "And welcome you with all the hospitality we can offer here. But before then." He leaned forward. "Why don't you start by telling us why you're here."
Slayer smiled handsomely, which earned him a pointed glare from the woman. "It seems I've been paying many different people visits lately," he said easily. "I thought I would extent the favor to my oldest acquaintances as well." He made a show of inspecting his fingernails. "And a warning."
The man frowned beneath his veil; though he had never cared for Slayer's dramatics, he did take his advisement seriously. "I-no tells me you've busy with the Assassin's Guild lately. Might your warning have something to do with that?"
"Indirectly." Slayer took a slow step forward; it prompted a slight shift of weight from the creature, as if he were leaning protectively toward his master. The vampire noted it, and continued on. "You and I have been alive a long time. We can feel the rhythm of this world—I know you've felt it. Something is going to happen."
"Yes," the man replied carefully, drawing stares from his two companions. "I have felt it." His fingers curled. "Are you the cause?"
Slayer laughed at the idea, shaking his head. "Me? You should know by now, I only help things along."
"So tell us already," I-no grumbled, setting a hand against her hip. "If you know what's going to happen, just spit it out."
"Very well." Slayer drew himself up, taking on a serious air that may or may not have been for show. "I don't know what's going to happen. But with the Bureau struggling, everything is going to change, and you and yours should be ready." His eyebrow lifted. "Especially for Ky Kiske."
I-no straightened, while the creature frowned subtly and their master interlocked his fingers. "And why do you say that?" the later asked.
"His victory in Italy was as much a blow to you as it was to the Bureau," Slayer informed him knowingly. "He's much stronger now—more than either of us could have anticipated—and he's gaining powerful allies. Both Zepp and A-Country trust him, and he's already captivated the rest of the world." His eyes narrowed. "I don't know yet what you're up to. But he will topple the Bureau eventually, and without that distraction he'll turn to you."
The creature snorted in annoyance. "No human is a match for us," he muttered.
The man, however, was quiet a moment, considering those words with the thoughtfulness they deserved. "You are that convinced of his abilities?" he asked evenly.
"If you'd seen him stab Fredrick through the chest," Slayer replied with a cool smirk, "you would be, too."
The implications of his words were not lost on the three: the man's servants exchanged meaningful glances before turning inward, to their master. The man was silent for some time, deep in thought. At last he pushed slowly to his feet. "I see. I thank you, Nightwalker, for your information. I will remember your warning." He lifted a hand to his right. "You have come a long way. Would you care for some wine?"
"I would indeed." Allowing their brief moment of seriousness to pass, Slayer moved gratefully to his host's side. "I knew I could count on you for a drink, if nothing else, my friend."
The pair moved off together, their conversation tipping to lighter subjects as the shadows took them.