AN: First of all, sorry for the long wait, especially since so many of you reviewed so nicely and promptly as well. Thank you for your patience and restraint (from throwing various dangerous, possibly inflammable/radioactive goods).
However, this chapter is around a total of 4000 words, which is quite longer than the original chapters. Hopefully, that is enough to excuse my lateness, especially since a longer chapter was mysteriously much harder to write than a short one. I was actually going to try for 8000 words, but decided that a) that was pushing the word limit a bit and b) you'd all waited long enough. Maybe at a time when I can get 8000 words written in a month.
Also, I've changed the formating of the text a bit, so that speech is better seperated. I hate doing that on paper, but it looked good on someone else's fanfic, so I'm trying it out. But please, pass your opinions along. Should I go back to the original formating? Aim to write 4000 word chapters and take longer or 2000 word drabbles and write faster?
P.S I reached 50 reviews!
Chapter 10: What do I have to say to make you understand?
Pacing, pacing, pacing. He'd already circled thirty times, NOT that he was counting, or had the wits to count at this very stage in time. Every detail of his surroundings had been noted, from the large, mahogany-framed emerald silk-curtained windows affording elegant views of the royal garden to the soft, chocolate and cream patterned carpet that was slowly staining mud-brown under his feet. Or maybe that patch was part of the original design? Van hoped so, because he was sure he could not afford to pay for the dry-cleaning of such expensive furnishings, though if you asked him to give a rough estimate of his bank account at that time, he would have untactfully told you to buzz off. Because at that moment in time, he was shaking with anticipation, could not feel his tingling hands and feet, and really couldn't think at all.
He hadn't even walked through the door.
"Do I have to throw you in?" asked Rudolph, amused and ever so slightly bewildered that the fearless pilot was quite ashen as he skirted around the door that'd been indicated to him. He received a very nasty look for the inquiry.
"Try it and die, midget."
An eyebrow raised delicately at the growled comment; the emperor was almost as tall as Van was now. "You're only going to get kicked if you stay out here any longer," he replied, using his best I'm-the-almighty-monarch-who's-bored tone. "Moonbei especially won't appreciate you wasting her time."
"Damn money-grabbing transporter." A long sigh. "I'm ready now."
"Have fun."
Shooting his friend an evil glare for that last muttered comment, he took a hold of the doorknob, and pushed, eyes averted to the ground as he braced for an attack. When he was spared any form of pain for a few minutes, he gingerly looked up to receive a solid punch where his nose, eyebrows and forehead intersected. Rubbing the spot furiously as he sized his opponent up, he settled for grumbling, "What the hell was that for, Moonbei?"
After all, he really didn't want to face this opponent head on.
"You're ten minutes late!" she declared emphatically, many gold-plated rings flashing as she bent over slightly to wag her finger in his face, the other hand fisted over a linen-clad hip. Sheepishly, he scratched the back of his head and laughed, while noting that Moonbei towered ten centimetres over him when wearing heeled sandals. He noted that her wide-collared dress, a shade darker than desert sand and split high to her hips, was expensive and possibly new, as were the tight black shorts and broad leather belt she wore. Playfully, he tugged on one of her braids.
"You spent all this money on new clothes just so you could see me? I'm touched."
"Idiot," laughed the stingy transporter, waving his hand away. "I'm in official business in a palace, so I have to look good. Not like Irvine over there, looking like a scruffy old dog."
Her boyfriend's eyebrow twitched. "I shaved this morning," he drawled, not moving from his position against a desk. Same old Irvine, mused Van, trying to look completely disinterested by crossing his arms and leaning on the nearest piece of furniture able to support his six foot frame. The Lightning Saix pilot looked at him with a calculatingly face for a moment, then lazily said, "Long time no see."
"It hasn't been that long… has it?"
"Two years," was the easy reply. "A decent amount of time. I hope you've been practising with your Blade Liger, because I want a good match out of you later." The tone was a promise, not a request.
"Sure." The shorter man was enthusiastic about the challenge. "I've improved heaps lately, so I wanna see if the leading members of the Guardian Force are up to scratch. Not that you'll ever win against a distinguished hero such as myself, of course-"
"Don't get cocky!" yelled Moonbei as she got in on the mood, evidently forgetting all earlier promises of beating sense into her friend short friend. "You might have been good once, but two years without decent practice has gotta have blunted your edge. Even if you use Zeke-"
"I don't need an organoid anymore."
A silence fell in the room, as Van realised his blunder and winced. He finally thought to look past Moonbei and Irvine, to be confronted by a pair of hurt red eyes. Taking a half step back, he was still trying to think of a good way to recover when Moonbei proceeded to drag Irvine from the room, loudly declaring that they would explore the palace and stretch their legs for a while, and possibly hunt down some snacks before dinner. He noted their exit woodenly, and watched the door slam shut loudly.
Outside, Moonbei promptly lectured her boyfriend on the evils of eavesdropping, before pushing him off in a random direction with commands to amuse himself. He grunted at her and muttered something about preparing his Saix before slouching off, hands in pockets. Making sure he was out of sight before pressing her ear to the wood, she threw threatening gestures at the longhaired teenager staring at her, as if daring him to reveal her presence. She then concentrated on the conversation about to take place in the room she'd just left; if Van hurt Fiona, she would kill him. That was a promise she would not forget.
ZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDS
"So… um…" Turning, he awkwardly asked, "How've you been, Fiona?"
From what he could see, she had been doing well. Wearing a dark rose silk dress with red velvet inlays, belted with white leather matched by long cream gloves, she had obviously amassed a fortune, to be able to afford such expensive cloth and make. Height elevated by heels, she stood at a solid five foot five, a perfect two inches shorter than him. Her hair had remained the same, but her face showed more grandeur and age than he was used to seeing. Briefly, he wondered how much of the sweet, clueless girl had been taken over by the zoidian, but quickly destroyed the thought. It didn't matter.
It shouldn't matter.
"I've been fine," the blonde replied, in that soft, uncertain voice he was used to. "Except… it hasn't been the same since you left."
"Oh. Sorry about that."
With a sigh, she indicated a chair and sat neatly in one of her own. Metal thunked as Zeke moved up to her hand, staring without end at the human as he settled in the proffered chair. Eventually, his former owner returned the look, though his was slightly apologetic; while hoping that the organoid hadn't heard his previous comment, he also acknowledged that it was improbable. Hands fidgeting nervously, he took constant glances at Fiona, wondering how to reboot their lapsed pretense of conversation.
She asked him about his travels in the last two years, and he felt himself relax as he playfully related anecdotes, somehow finding humour in everything from shopkeeper's mullets to the poor skills of various bandits he'd encountered and the properties of sand that'd heated under 47 degrees Celsius temperatures. For an hour and a half, he talked, while Fiona listened with smiles, nods and giggles. Many times she looked as though she planned to interrupt, but she didn't, only asking for further elaboration or clarification on some points when Van was too brief or excitedly incoherent.
Some time during a rather enthusiastic recollection of the time he bought fifty varieties of papaya, only to find that they had simply been painted different colours by the fraudulent shopkeeper, Fiona quipped with the ever-reliable "Was there a flying variety?" and they both broke into laughter, joined in their mirth by one white organoid who was rolling on the floor by this stage. There was a hint of nostalgia in their joy though, and they all sobered quicker than they might of in other circumstances. Discourse was at an end for the moment, and a slightly intimidating silence settled. Zeke moved over to thrust his head under Van's hand; surprised at first, he stroked the metal gently with a smile.
"Why didn't you ask us to come with you?"
He looked up her and grimaced slightly; he'd hoped to procrastinate that question further. "I thought that you wouldn't approve of what I was doing. It wouldn't be fair to pull you into something you disagreed with. Besides, you were needed in the GF, especially after the whole Ultimate Deathsaurer mess."
She seemed almost amused at his answer. "How long did you think to come up with that?"
"What do you mean? It's what I thought from the start."
"It's very logical for you, Van. Does that sound like you?" She fiddled with her hands absently. "You're right though, I wouldn't have –and still don't– approve of your actions for the past two years. You say that the Guardian Force needed me, but they needed you more. You are a hero, something that still amazes me sometimes, when I think about it. How many people can claim to know such a being?" A gentle, wondering smile covered her face as she looked at him, making him almost liquidise.
"I'm sorry Fiona, really. But… I really am only good for fighting. There was nothing left for me to do with the GF anymore, and there isn't exactly much point in a peacekeeping force if there isn't anybody stirring up trouble. Anything else–"
"That isn't true. Many of soldiers retired after surviving Zoideve, having tired of fighting and risking their lives. We let them go, knowing that such sentiments were justified. Your mere existence inspired so many young, talented potential pilots to apply to the Guardian Force. In such a situation, we had a shortage of qualified personnel to teach. You would've made a wonderful professor."
"Maybe," he grinned, though he was not happy at the prospect. There was probably a sense of achievement gained through teaching, though hardly one of adventure. Especially if he was stuck teaching a bunch of the pilots he'd encountered in recent years. There really were no good pilots left at the Guardian Force, were there? No wonder they were so desperate for him to rejoin…
"You should still consider it."
"I will," he promised, standing to stretch. "Um… are you free tomorrow evening? I was thinking of maybe some dinner, or something. Unless you're busy, which you probably are, being top GF and all–"
"I'd love to, Van," she answered, finally sounding like herself instead of a telemarketer. Her eyes crinkled at the corners, and smiled contentedly at the offer.
"Great! Well, it would be if I knew where the he-heck I could find a nice restaurant, and check my bank account, and maybe find some decent clothes to wear…"
"I'm sure it'll be fine, Van," laughed Fiona. "Somehow, it always is if you're around."
"Right. I'll pick you up here at seven then." He turned to leave, then paused. "Oh yeah, is Irvine free tomorrow morning? I'm really looking forward to a match with him."
"I'm sure he is."
"I'll see him here tomorrow at ten then. Right now, I'm going to get some training done. See ya!"
He left the room and walked down two corridors before stopping to rest against a wall, breathing hard. Overall, he was pleased. That had gone a lot better than he'd expected. Now… he just had to figure out where he was.
ZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDS
Moonbei wandered the palace cheerfully, noting and drooling over the various expensive, luxurious and downright extravagant furnishings. Her mind was rolling away, summing up a total of how much such trimmings would cost if applied to her own humbler abode, while cheekily wondering if anyone would notice if a certain vase/plant/curtain/chair was missing. A more responsible part of her mind was yelling at her for abandoning her post, but after half an hour of mindless (albeit interesting) drabble she was all out of patience. Besides, it didn't sound as though those two would get into a fight anytime soon, not that they ever fought. Frankly, she thought there was no need to be so cautious.
Staring up at the gold-washed ceiling in admiration while walking proved to be her downfall, as she consequently crashed into a very solid body while turning a corner, and fell backwards. Heels are not always easy to balance in, especially when you try to defy gravity in them. With a shriek that was as more out of irritation at herself than surprise, she found herself plummeting 1.8m or so towards the ground. Except that she never quite made the distance, with a pair of fast-reacting hands catching her arms and stopping the descent, before hauling her back to her feet. A bit woozy from vertigo, she sheepishly scratched the back of her head. "Sorry about that… wasn't looking, ya know…"
She'd trailed off seeing who she was actually talking to, and took a step backwards. The other person merely threw her an annoyed glance and asked sarcastically, "Is the ceiling so interesting that you forgot how to walk?"
"It's gilded!" exclaimed the transporter indignantly, her slight fear overcome by her mercenary nature as she began to babble about the costs, effect and appearance of the gold paint on one's house, and progressed to the artistic design of the particular piece of artwork hanging above her head. She realised, of course, that she sounded like an art student making up an essay on interpretive framework. Apparently her audience thought so too, because after two minutes, he rolled his eyes and walked off.
Moonbei continued to talk, though she was in fact staring at the destructive pilot's back thoughtfully. Finally, before he could completely disappear from sight, she yelled, "Raven!"
In reply, the addressed turned around with a look of annoyance, clearly stating "What?" with his eyes. In turn, the Gustav pilot contracted her eyes, showing that she was completely serious now. She stalked forward, closing some of the distance between them and glaring, utilising her heels to their potential. Stopping about three metres away, she said, "We know that you've been travelling with Van for the past month and a half. I don't know how the hell he managed to convince you to do that, or what you've done with the real Raven, but-"
"You want me to leave your precious hero alone?"
Dark brown eyes frowned even more. "I don't share Fiona or Irvine's sentiments on that count, not because I believe that he should always make his own choices, but because… from my vantage point, I've never understood you." Ignoring the snort of disdain at that comment, she continued, "I don't know why you're the murderous asshole you were –and possibly still are– but I'm sure there was a reason. People don't just turn out as twisted as you were, something makes them that way."
"What is this, a psychiatric test?" he growled, losing patience. He turned to walk off, but was stopped by a hand holding his arm. Irritably, he shook it off.
"Why are you travelling with Van? I thought you hated him."
"I do. But he wouldn't get lost."
"Riiight," grinned Moonbei sceptically. "That explains why you haven't run off after he ended up unconscious in a hospital, or when you got a hold of his Blade Liger. Both were great opportunities to do so, and you must have seen that. So why did you stay? What are you really thinking?"
"Why do you want to know?"
"I don't, as curious as such information might be. But in the interests of my friend, I should endeavour to find out. And just so you know, I can be as persistant as Van is. We'll both be here all day."
About to refuse, the pilot finally grumbled, "That idiot just won't go away. I quietly leave after Zoideve, and he finds me. I nearly kill him so many times, and something's always in the way. I disappear after he supposedly killed me, and he comes rushing right back. I bump into him a million times in zoid battles, and the dimwit just won't die! But I suppose it's my fault after all, since I left him alive after our first encounter, and being the complete imbecile that he is, he actually comes back to challenge me. Me. After seeing me rip apart a squadron of Godos like that, something he can still only dream about. He actually comes to find me again. What a moron."
It was plain that he was trying to let off steam, and Moonbei wondered for a moment why he would choose to let her hear this. She idly tucked a bang behind her ear. "Are you frustrated because you couldn't kill him, or because he won't leave after all that you've done?"
"What?"
"I've been wondering about that myself," she mused, talking in the round-about way that she employed with money. "Even though you were undoubtedly more skilled, and you had the killing intent and purpose, you never did kill him, and he couldn't kill you either. You'd just beat each other to pieces, and depending on who won that bout, one of you'd slink away and wait to find the other again. It was… bizarre. Before the first Deathsaurer incident, everyone was in the middle of a war, and you two didn't care as long as you got your little scuffles. At Cronos, we were warned that a battle would start soon, and he insisted on hanging around to challenge you. Just a challenge, not a death match or anything, like he knew you wouldn't kill him even if he'd lost."
"Excellent. Any chance I might've had of a normal life is officially dead."
"Well, you should have expected that, having the biggest hero in the world as your enemy, the biggest megalomaniacs in the world as your boss, and the biggest psychopath in the world as your girlfriend," sympathised Moonbei cynically. "Is that all you want? To become normal now that you've given up on massacring every zoid you see?"
Shrug. "Or maybe I just want the impossible. Either way."
Nodding reflexively, she caught herself and frowned, before cautiously saying, "You're not half what you seem after all. Just another person who lived through the war, and is trying to continue their existence. Nothing special, to warrant all that attention." Cheekily, in that brash way she was more used to acting, Moonbei waved with a grin to signal the end of the conversation. "Well, it was nice talking to you anyway. If you can't find someone normal to talk with, you're always welcome to chat to one very busy transporter with a fortune to make. I'll see you around then!"
Leaving Raven staring in confusion, she walked off cheerfully, not looking back to see the snort of slight annoyance from the pilot, before he stalked off in the opposite direction, thoroughly amused for the day.
ZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDSZOIDS
Cleaning his Lightning Saix was a damned long chore, but one he enjoyed. Humming to himself as he attacked sand and mud stains alike, he was disturbed to turn around for a fresher rag to see a blue-haired girl standing on top of an equally blue Gunsniper that had somehow materialised. Had the hair not given her away, he would have recognised this female from her clothes alone, the multi-buckled dress, skin-tight pants and worn boots well-impressed into his mind from descriptions. Instantly, he reached for the gun he carried for such purposes, preparing mentally for a non-zoid combat.
The grin on his enemy's face widened unpleasantly, though she otherwise did not move from her over-confident pose: one hand fisted on a tilted hip, head cocked slightly to maintain balance. Irvine was suddenly struck by a similar image from quite a few years ago, and gritted his teeth angrily; it was disturbing how alike this zoidian and her partner acted. He flicked the safety off his gun automatically and held it up with a firm hand, eyes maintaining the target in their vision.
"Hn," sneered Ryss, obviously unimpressed by his hostility. "Put that thing away; if I'd planned anything, you'd have been done for before you stepped into this building."
Without his consent, the mercenary's hand began to lower; he fought and won. "Your mind tricks won't work here. I'm surprised that Rudolph even let a psychopath like you into his palace without an armed guard."
"I'm shocked that he let the Guardian Force's dogs into the country without a few muzzles to go around."
He was angry, but he was also a cool thinker, and didn't take the bait. "What did you want?"
"Initially? To check up my zoid." Seeing the suspicious look, she rolled her eyes. "And yes, I do actually pilot these things and fight my own battles, unlike that trash of a zoidian you hang around with. I'd prove much stronger than you too if you dogs didn't run around in packs."
"And now?"
Slightly put off that her taunts were ignored, Ryss shrugged. "Now I'm just trying to goad you into a battle. I could let off a little steam after being cramped up here for the past month or so. You're just the first person I found who wasn't a fifth rate pilot."
"You run around with Raven, and you're telling me that you can't find a sparring partner?"
Her hands flew into the air in exasperation. "It's Raven. Who the hell would be stupid enough to spar with him? Might as well just throw yourself into a furnace; it'll be the same result." She looked at him in irritation. "Well, are you up for a match or not?"
"No," he replied after a moment's consideration, though he slowly replaced his weapon in its holster, relaxing slightly. "I'm not interested. You're not my match." He turned back to his cleaning, senses alert to a possible sneak attack.
"Hmph. Men." In disgust, she jumped into the cockpit of her zoid and disappeared with it.
Out of sight from the other pilot, she parked the Gunsniper and climbed out, followed by her organoid. She took a moment to reflect on that event, then started walking as she thought. In truth, she had been checking on her zoid, but when a member of Alisi Lynette's entourage had dropped by to do the same, she couldn't help but investigate. Ignoring orders from both Raven and the Emperor, she'd revealed herself, but not without gaining something in return. Holding out a hand, she whistled cheerfully as a bug crawled in circles in it.
It had been interesting –and educational– to flick through the surface emotions and thoughts of the Lightning Saix pilot. That hostile attitude seemed to be more of a defence mechanism developed from his job as a mercenary and a feeling of injured ego (not even pride) than an actual deep-seated hatred towards her. What he thought about her on a more conscious scale had been too risky to violate, and she had barely any information on what he thought or felt about Raven. Still…
Bugging him was too dangerous, since that blonde would no doubt pick it up. She had less qualms about his zoid though, and the only flaw in her plan was that she had not actually managed to pick a fight with him. There were plenty of chances in the future though, unless she and Raven left rather soon. In that case, there wouldn't even be a need to collect that information, as long as they stayed well out of the Guardian Force's radar. And as long as Van didn't feel the pressing need to find them and announce it to the world with fireworks...
"Maybe we should invite him along," she mused.
"Who?"
Mildly surprised that she'd made it back into their room already, she flapped a hand at Raven. "Nobody. Just talking to myself."
REVIEW RESPONSES:
Yarrie: Hehehe… personally, I don't really like Fiona much, though she could be worse… anyways, I need a few opposing characters to create havoc for my mains, so this could work out juuusssttt fine.
Peter Kim: woah, that is a whole lot of ideas, and I'm flattered that you'd take time to think about my story; thanks. Not sure how many I'll actually use, but you really should write if you don't, and write more if you do.
Taltos: thank you for the info. I think I might find some way to add Thomas into the story once Fiona, Irvine and Moonbei are nicely settled… or maybe not. Gnihihi… NO CHARACTER WILL GET TIME TO SETTLE IN THIS STORY! MWAHAHAHAHA! cough er… is my Fiona teetering somewhere between in character and out of character? Sorry, but I'm not sure I've got a great grip on her. And since my mum blew my VCR (she was a civil engineer for crying out loud!) I can't really check. You'll just have to berate me when I screw up.
Wyrd: I wonder if I could get a plushie of Shadow? Maybe I'm making him a bit too cuddly, but if I'm going to try and make Raven vaguely cuddly (laughs hysterically) I might as well have a good shot at Shadow too. But don't worry, NEITHER of them have any patience for any crap the GF are planning to force on them, and I'm sure that they're tired of being cramped up too. Expect to see some explosions soon!
nightfighter642: a bit of van/fiona coming up for you. Can't say it'll last, but I will try and make it enough.
RavenLover: gah, conflicting opinions on pairings when I haven't made up my mind properly yet… but thank you for the review
chcraven: the review that triggered the release of this chapter. Sorry I didn't get a chance to read your story yet… I haven't read the ten pages of history I was supposed to either… XX