Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission. This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material. C&C very welcomed.

OMG does anything happen in this chapter??? I'm sorry it's going so slow. But there'll be blood in the next chapter, I promise. And a new character. And blood. And the beginning of plot…I think…but if nothing else, blood.

Seeya there .

Sorry about the scene markers disappearing, formatting still baffles me sometimes.

Thunder Falling

Chapter 4

Ky had slept so soundly through the night, it wasn't until he heard his housekeeper reach the top of the second floor stairs that he stirred at all. He blinked himself awake, frowning, as he remembered having giving both the young woman who attended to him the holiday to themselves. "Rosaline?"

"Yes, Master Kiske?" The door twisted open, and Ky jerked upright—remembering suddenly that he had not come to bed alone. But Rosaline, a bright-eyed young woman with brown curls, only smiled warmly at him. "Good morning, Sir. I'm sorry if I woke you."

Ky blinked down at the bed he occupied, only to find it empty save for himself. Testament's clothes, too, were gone from where they had been carelessly dropped among his uniform on the floor. He frowned in confusion. "I did give you the morning free, did I not?" he asked, wondering if perhaps this was not the morning after the festival after all. If he maybe had dreamed it…

"Oh, you did," Rosaline replied, her smile sobering. She bent down to gather up his uniform. "But I know it's a strain on you, sir. I thought I might at least prepare breakfast and a bit of laundry, if that's all right."

"That's not necessary…but thank you."

"Take your time, sir."

As Rosaline closed the door behind her, Ky turned his attention back to his room. It was already late in the morning, as was proven by the soft morning light streaming through his eastward window. The space beside him on the bed was still warm, and as Ky ventured closer to the edge of the mattress, he finally discovered his missing companion. Relieved and amused, he grinned against the back of his hand. "Sorry."

Testament stared up at him, his coat and clothing held against his chest, having dragged them into hiding with him half under the bed. "Did she see me?"

"I don't think so." Ky reached down and, abandoning his things, Testament allowed himself to be tugged back onto the bed. "I didn't think she was coming today. She and Tessa take care of the house for me."

"I see." Testament glanced at the door. "She won't come back up, will she?"

"Probably not—she's always left me to my privacy."

"Good." Testament turned abruptly, pressing a hand to Ky's chest to force him onto his back. The officer managed a short intake of breath before the Gear's hot mouth was over his, demanding of him a heated kiss that made his toes curl.

Ky was grinning breathlessly as Testament pulled back once more. "I suppose it's time for me to greet you properly."

"I'd been hoping as much," Testament returned, settling himself over the officer. His eyes gleamed hungrily, and as he leaned in again his lips darted instead to the sensitive flesh below his jaw.

Ky breathed an appreciative sigh and twisted his fingers in locks of thick ebony. "I'm glad you came," he murmured. Testament's warm hands gliding over his bare chest and sides were easily awakening his memories, and it made his pulse rise into his ears. "I was beginning to think that maybe…."

"Sorry." Testament drew his hand firmly along the inside of Ky's thigh. "I'll make it up to you."

Ky's breath caught, but before Testament could go any further they were alerted to a thunder of footsteps making their way hastily up the steps. Before Ky could get his thoughts well enough in order the door was being flung open, followed by a flash of blue and blonde, a squeak, and the door closing just as abruptly.

Ky blinked, staring at the door in confusion. "What…?"

"Bridget," Testament explained for him, slumping onto his side.

"Sorry!" came the boy's flustered voice from behind the door. "I'm sorry—she said you were awake, so I—sorry!"

Ky sighed. "It's all right, Bridget," he called back. It wasn't until then that he remembered Bridget's promise of breakfast from the night before. "Could you wait downstairs for us? We'll be right there."

"Sure!" Bridget chirped, and then was bounding down the stairs once more.

Ky relaxed, and when he looked to Testament was amused to see his cheeks colored with embarrassment. He tugged him down into a kiss. "We shouldn't keep them waiting."

"I suppose not." Testament watched him thoughtfully a moment. "You know," he murmured, "you shouldn't underestimate him. He's very fond of you."

"Oh?" Ky smiled faintly as he folded his hands over his stomach. "He's a good boy. I suppose it's not unusual for someone his age to look up to an officer."

Testament's lip curled. "If that's all you see it as, you're going to get yourself in trouble."

Ky frowned, but when he started to question Testament cut him off with another kiss. "Come on," the Gear said against his lips. "He'll be waiting."

The pair dressed, Ky in a fresh white shirt and pants and Testament in his leathers, and when they descended found Bridget bustling about in the kitchen. "Rosaline's down in the laundry," Bridget said as he poured them each a cup of tea. He himself was in yet another new outfit: a pressed white shirt with a high collar and pearl buttons, with a dark blue vest and trousers. "I told her I'd finish up with breakfast." He smiled at them, though when his eyes met Ky's he blushed and turned back to preparing their plates.

"I should be serving you," Ky chuckled as he took a seat. "You being a guest."

"Oh, I don't mind," Bridget quickly assured. "I'm just sorry about…um, interrupting you."

Ky blushed, catching a knowing glance from Testament. He coughed lightly. "Um, it's all right."

Though upon her return from the basement Rosaline was startled to find her master entertaining yet another guest, she didn't question—in fact seemed inordinately pleased that Ky had visitors to spend the morning with at all. It wasn't until she mentioned as much that Ky realized this was the first time in several years he had spent this day with any manner of company. Usually he would have taken his breakfast alone, and until the evening spent his hours in idle study. He was beginning to see that he much preferred celebrating the winter season with companions.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to spend the entire day with you," Ky said as they reached the last of their breakfast. Rosaline had gone by now, and his freshly cleaned uniform hung ready in the closet for him. His eyes slid to it grimly. "There is one last ceremony for me to attend this evening."

"The memorial, right?" Bridget said brightly, but when he saw the expression Ky bore he lowered his voice a little. "I've never been before. Is it all right if I come along?"

"I don't think it will be very enjoyable for you, but if you like." The prospect of having Bridget with him made Ky's spirits lift a little…until he looked to Testament. The Gear was watching him closely. "I'm sorry, Testament, but you're welcomed to wait for us here. There are several books up in my study; I'm sure there's at least one that might interest you."

Testament sipped the last of his tea. "I'm not invited?" he asked evenly.

Ky faltered somewhat. "Well…." He glanced away, feeling something cold and hollow slide into his ribs. "It's a public memorial. But it will be attended mostly by former members of the Holy Order. And you—"

"As a Gear, I wouldn't be welcome." Testament pushed some of the hair from his eyes. "I understand."

Ky started to protest, but his voice fell short. The hollow sensation in his gut seemed to swell as he watched Testament and realized that he could not say that he wanted him to come. The December Third Memorial was, for the veterans of the Holy Order, a day to mourn their comrades away from the city celebrations. He could not imagine walking among their solemn ranks with a Gear at his side, no matter what history they now shared. And he was ashamed to admit it was his own pride that made him feel as such.

"I'm sorry." Ky lowered his head guiltily. "It would be inappropriate."

"I understand."

Bridget glanced between the pair and shifted in his chair. "Maybe we can bring back something to eat afterwards," he suggested. "And have dessert together."

"That would be fine," Ky was quick to agree. "And in the meantime, we still have the day together. I want to hear all about what the two of you have been up to." He looked to Testament hopefully. If he could possibly spend this day pleasantly…

"Of course." Testament drew his gaze back, to Ky's relief, and nodded. "You're not on duty today, correct? I can't exactly see the city with you both, but we should be able to amuse ourselves here."

"Yes. Would you like to move to the foyer?" Ky suggested, pushing to his feet. "There's much I'd like to hear."

Anji had to admit, he had been in worse prisons before. Seeing as the bars were made of wood he probably could have easily escaped, had he chosen to. Not that it would help much in proving his innocence in whatever it was Murase thought he had done. He had spent all morning answering the Council's questions, most of which several times over, relating all he knew of his meeting several months ago with the man who created the gears. And he had tried, with each repetition, to stress what the man had told him: that he had not wanted the Japanese people destroyed. That he regretted the war deeply. These seemed to be the only pleas of his that no one would listen to.

As the prison was underground there was no way of knowing exactly how much time passed after his interrogation. By then his wrists were sore and throbbing from being bound behind his back, and his stomach was rumbling hollowly. He was beginning to think they had decided to leave him here indefinitely when the door at the end of the hall suddenly opened.

"Anji!" Chipp, still dressed only in his boxers and a robe from the night before, dashed down the line of cells to him. "Fuck, are you all right? I've been trying to get in all goddamned day—what the hell happened?"

"Chipp…" Anji sighd in relief, until he saw Yuuya join his friend at the cell door. "What's going on?"

"You're being released," Yuuya stated plainly as he unlocked the cell and tugged it open. "I'm to take you back to the temple, where you'll stay until the Chairman says so."

Anji smiled bitterly. "I guess that's a nicer cell than this."

Yuuya smirked as he stepped inside to undo the bindings on Anji's wrists. "You weren't planning on leaving the Colony anyway, were you? I thought you'd want to see the result of all the commotion you've caused."

"Commotion?"

"You'll see, once the Council is finished deliberating." Yuuya stepped back into the hall and motioned Anji to follow.

Anji did so, rubbing his sore wrists as he allowed Yuuya to lead him out of the prison. All the while Chipp all but bounced anxiously at his side. "Damn pricks," the albino man muttered under his breath, just loud enough so that Yuuya would hear. "You know what they told me? Said you were being held as a traitor. Fuck that! We saved the goddamned world, didn't we? Let's see them do that in their dresses."

Anji smiled, tempted to remind Chipp that the two of them had been unconscious and brainwashed, respectively, for that entire affair, but he was grateful for the man's support. "It's all right. I should have told them everything when we first got here, like Baiken."

Chipp snorted. "Well, fuck Baiken, too. She's probably still at the temple smoking her goddamned pipe—wouldn't even get off her ass to come help me complain for you. That's cold right there, you know. Seeing as she's the one that tipped them off to you."

"When you say it like that, it makes me sound guilty," Anji replied with a quiet chuckle. "Besides…they would have found out. I'm not angry with her for telling them."

"Wha? Fuck, man, then you're way far gone."

Yuuya walked with them back to the temple, and Anji couldn't help but smile when he saw Wakami waiting for them anxiously at the gate. She greeted them happily and gave her brother a disapproving frown, who returned it with a casual shrug. "Remember," Yuuya said pointedly as he slipped his arms into his coat. "You're not to leave this temple. For your…safety."

"Of course. My safety." Anji frowned as they all watched the man leave, and at last turned in toward the temple. "Thanks for waiting for me, Wakami," he said with a grateful smile. "I'm all right."

"I'll make us some lunch," she offered shyly. "You must be hungry—and you, too, Zanuff-san." Her cheeks colored a little when she looked to him. "You were there all night, too."

Chipp scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, I guess I was. Thanks a lot, Wakami."

The trio returned to the main room of the temple, and Anji felt something in his stomach curl slightly when he saw Baiken reclining on the steps. Just as Chipp predicted, she was dressed in her usual yukata and smoking her pipe easily. She glanced up lazily when they approached. "Anji."

"Baiken." Anji took a seat next to her as Wakami stepped past, toward the kitchen. After a hesitant moment and a scowl Chipp sat down as well. Anji could tell he was expected to say something—something accusatory or hurtful—but the words wouldn't come to him. Instead he merely plucked Baiken's pip from her fingers, and took a long breath for himself.

"Is that it?" Chipp asked incredulously, glancing between them. "Aren't you going to say something? She got you arrested, you know."

Anji shrugged, very conscious of both their stares on him. "Probably isn't the first time," he replied easily. He sighed. "And I've been thinking. Maybe…convincing them to open the Colony wouldn't be such a bad thing."

Baiken glanced at him sharply, and Chipp frowned at them both. "Open the Colony," he echoed. "You know, I still haven't figured out what the hell you're talking about."

"Do you remember how we got here?" Baiken finally spoke up. Her voice was somewhat hoarse from the hangover she must have been suffering.

"Well, yeah." Chipp pursed his lips as he recalled. "We came over that weird bridge." He indicated the huge statue of a man on the horizon, and the long suspension bridge it held which terminated abruptly at the top of its curve. "So?"

"When we went over that bridge, we went through…well, a rift in space," Anji took up the explanation. "We're not in the normal world right now—this Colony was created through magic, in a pocket of space. Kind of like another dimension. That's why only certain people can come in and out, and why we're protected from the outside world."

"Shit, really?" Chipp scratched his head thoughtfully. "Like…the outer dimensional prisons?"

Baiken snorted. "Yes. Like the prisons."

They both glanced to her, but before Anji could protest she continued. "We may be supposedly 'safe' here, but we're also cut off from the rest of the world. If the Bureau wanted, it could destroy us all in an instant—everything here, without any effort at all." She looked abruptly to Chipp. "Do you know how old Wakami is?"

"Wakami? Um…no, but…." Chipp blushed a little. "I thought, maybe…nineteen?"

"She looks it, doesn't she?" She retrieved her pipe. "But people in the Colony age differently—slower than outside, to preserve the Japanese race as long as possible. It's as if the magic that created the Colony taps into a person's natural longevity and lengthens it, with the help of a person's Ki. Wakami is at least in her thirties, if I remember. Her brother is twice that." She took a breath on her pipe. "And their father has been around since the beginning of the Colony."

"But that's over a hundred years!" Chipp protested. He turned his wide, disbelieving gaze on Anji. "What about you?"

Anji smiled thinly. "Forty-two next month."

"Damn! That girly-looking guy is older than you? You're forty? Chipp leaned forward to see Baiken. "And you?"

Anji glanced to her as well—he himself had never gotten an answer out of her, though he knew she had to have been a great deal older than him. But she only puffed on her pipe, seeming to have no intention of giving them a number. "Old enough," she replied at last.

Anji smiled slightly to hide his disappointment. "Now, Chipp," he said, "you know it's not polite to ask a woman her age."

"She brought it up," he muttered, crossing his arms. "What's the big deal?"

"The point is, the Colony has been away from the world for a long time," Baiken resumed. "Its people are weak. They don't care about the truth, or about danger. They're fools. Which is why Anji and I left here in the first place."

She looked to him pointedly, and Anji found he couldn't deny it. The Colony had always been home to him, and he loved it and its people dearly, but he, like Baiken, had always been aware of its suffocating confines. Unlike his peers he longed for the truth—truth they would never reach locked away as they were now.

Anji sighed softly, just as Wakami returned with a hastily prepared lunch for them. "You're right," he said, softly. "Slayer was right." He lifted his head. "It's time we started to see the real world. All of us."

Yuuya chewed idly on the end of his pipe as he watched his father's slow pacing. He felt fortunate that he had not inherited his father's tendency toward the habit; the rhythmic tapping of his feet against the tatami was vaguely irritating in its consistency. Yuuya himself was reclined easily in the corner. All this debate seemed a waste of time, with the council waiting, and him already knowing what conclusion his father would reach. He blew a slow ring of smoke. "Father."

Murase's eyes snapped to him, though he did not halt his pacing. "Yes?"

"We both already know your decision," Yuuya told him easily. "So you might as well just tell the council."

Murase sighed heavily. "It's not that simple," he muttered with a shake of his head. "Even if we convince the United Nations, we'll have to rebuild the entire Colony from scratch on poisoned land. And if that man is alive, we'll be completely vulnerable to attack. The risk is—"

"Father. Why do you always stall like that?"

Murase turned to glare at him, though Yuuya was already considering himself victorious in that he had forced the man to stop his pacing. The man smiled thinly. "I'm old. I'm entitled to take my time." He crossed his arms. "And just because you happen to be fond of that woman doesn't mean you should agree with her so much."

Yuuya rolled his eyes. "Are you just incapable of admitting that she's right?" he countered. "Just because you don't like her doesn't mean you should disagree with her so much."

Murase frowned at him, but his son was already winning him over. "If I send a delegation to Paris, I'll expect you to lead it, you know."

"Why do you think I'm all for it?" Yuuya chuckled as he pushed to his feet. "Maybe I want to see the world, too."

Murase was silent a moment—looking as if he might return to his pacing—and then sighed again, drawing a hand over his face. "Very well," he said at last. "We will alert the Council, and then the populace to gather their approval. And then you will lead a delegation to Paris to vie for a seat among the United Nations." He turned toward the Council room where his peers awaited him. "The Colony will be opened—we will rebuild Japan."

Yuuya's lip curled as he followed his father. "That's more like it."

When Venom awoke, he was fairly certain he had never suffered so awful a headache in his life—he felt as if his entire body were throbbing, making him wince when he tried to open his eyes to a well-lit room. Despite this, the agony in his skull was not the greatest of his concerns. As soon as he started to sit up his stomach twisted nauseously. Clapping a hand over his mouth to stall himself he stumbled hastily toward the hotel bathroom.

"Whoa, whoa—" Someone followed him in, and Venom was too distracted by his discomfort to be alarmed by the unexpected company. As he dropped before the toilet a pair of hands touched his face, drawing his hair back as he finally retched.

Behind him, the stranger chuckled. "Long hair and booze don't mix well, do they?"

Venom coughed weakly, but was forced to pause his questioning for another bout of vomiting. When finally it seemed his stomach was empty he leaned back on his heels. "Who are you?" he croaked.

"You don't remember?" The man offered him a glass of water, which he quickly accepted to clean his mouth with. "I'm Axl. We shared drinks last night. Ring a bell?"

"Oh…." Venom grimaced, hunting up a towel to use to wipe his face. Slowly, it came back to him—the strange pair of Axls, the bar… He rubbed at his throbbing temples. "Yes, I remember."

"Well, good." Axl tugged the handkerchief off his head, using it to tie Venom's hair back. "Can't hold your liquor, can you? I warned you about that Vodka. When you're up to it you should drink some of this French tea stuff the maid brought up—it does wonders."

Venom frowned in alarm as he pushed carefully to his feet. "Maid?" To think that someone might have seen him… He ran a hand over his hair self-consciously.

"Don't worry, she didn't recognize you or nothing," Axl assured, having easily read the concern on his face. He wandered back into the main room. "Come have a drink."

Though Venom's stomach threatened to rebel again at the mere thought of consumption, he flushed the toilet and followed Axl back into the room. He took a seat on the bed edge as he continued to rub his temples. "I don't drink often," he confessed. He wished he would have remembered as much while they were still in the bar.

"That's obvious," Axl chuckled. He poured Venom a cup of tea and insisted he drink it. "But we had a good time, right?"

"I suppose." Venom only took small sips of the drink, though he found the warm smell really was helping to calm his stomach. But the settling of that uncertainty allowed him to realize how uncomfortable he felt with his full face exposed, he was quick to undo the handkerchief Axl had offered him. The brush of hair over his face was more of a comfort than he would ever admit. "What time is it?"

"Almost two in the afternoon," Axl replied, sipping his own tea. "You were starting to worry me—I thought I'd have to pay for another night."

He chuckled good naturedly, but Venom couldn't help but frown as he watched the man through his hair. He was still baffled as to why a man like this would desire his company. Though by now he had given up his suspicions of the man as a police spy, that left him even more clueless as to his motives.

"Why?" Venom asked abruptly, even realizing he had asked this question before with unsatisfactory results. "Why are you taking care of me?"

"Am I?" Axl shrugged carelessly. "Sympathy. I was pretty far gone this morning, too, you know, and no one likes puking in their hair."

"I don't mean just that," Venom persisted. He wasn't sure why it bothered him so much, but he was determined to know. "Sharing drinks, this room…I'm a wanted criminal."

Axl shrugged again, his eyes slipping away as if suddenly uncomfortable. "It's not like an assassin has any reason to go after me, is there?" he said. "Besides…it's not so bad. Not having to spend the holiday alone."

Venom frowned sharply at that. He had spent several holidays alone, and not given them a second thought. Even now it seemed overrated; if spending the evening with company meant a night of confusion and a raging hangover in the morning, he suspected he would be perfectly happy to spend the next several holidays in solitude.

Before Venom could say as much there was a knock on the door, and Axl bounded eagerly to his feet to answer. "I bet that's lunch," the blonde said happily. "I know it's kind of late for that, but you'll feel better after you eat, and I'm starved. I hope you like soup."

Venom turned away as the door was opened, still deep in thought as Axl's flirting with the young maid continued on the edge of his perception. He reasoned that someone in his situation should have been pleased to be invited to drinks on the night of a celebration. To not awake alone in a cheap motel but with company, with food waiting. But these things only made his mood darken mysteriously, and he couldn't bring himself to be grateful.

Axl thanked the maid, and Venom couldn't help but glance up curiously. He caught a glimpse of the young woman's face—and, just beyond her, a tall woman passed down the hall. She was a soft-featured brunette with wide, dark eyes, and as she turned up her scarf Venom just barely saw a pair of small scars at the base of her neck.