"Doesn't that ever annoy you?" Quint asked slowly.

"What?" Bianca responded, looking up at him. They were both lying in her room in her bed, Bianca close to Darton, his arm around her, other propping his head up.

"The sun. It's like every morning, it comes to get me, to just annoy me and wake me up and shit." He raised his hand not holding him up and gave the ifnger to to where the sun was filtering in through the familiar window, the light arcing through the main room and seeming to come through her doorway to sit on Darton once again.

"Oh please. It's the sun."

"Yeah, I know." Suddenly, a knock hit the door three times. A solid, equally spaced out bang-bang-bang. "The hell could that be?"

"I dunno...go get it." Bianca said sleepily, rolling over and securing the covers tighter. He smiled slightly, his hand running over her arm slightly, then getting out of the bed. A few articles of clothing later, and a splash of water from the bathroom sink and he went to the door, stretching out, and putting a shirt on over his chest. He slowly undid the locks, removing the chain, turning the circular lock, and finally the handle, yawning as he did so. As soon as his hand touched the knob, the door shot at him, knocking his left arm into his body and him back onto the ground, the swivels on the door crying as the door smashed into the wall that the swiels allowed it, but without pulling a few screws out of the securing swivels.

"Hi Quint." Colt said, standing in the door way, putting his foot back down and holding his gun straight at Quint, who quicklylooked up at the door as soon as he landed. 'Tried to fool me in Zimmerman's, well...ain't gonna fucking work on me, kiddo."

"What was that?" Bianca's voice echoed out of the bedroom and into the hall. "Found your girl too." he smiled, pulling back the hammer on the gun. "I'll do it before she gets here, she won't want to see it."

"Like hell." Quint muttered, smirking.

"'Scuse me?"

"Like hell!" Quint shouted. From where he was laying, his right foot was against the wall where the door had swivelled into. Rolling to his right, and using his right foot as a kick point, he threw the door back towards its frame and at Colt. Jeremy was hesitant to shoot the bullet, not to waste the money, and the door caught him by surprise, knocked back by the wooden door that smashed him in the face, bending his hat a little. Quint, jumping up from the kick of the door and being quick, ran to the oposite side of the small apartment to the corner under the window where a friend resided.

The second kick on the door threw it off of its hinges, falling back in front of the bedroom door, the ripped screws and hinges clanking to silence on the ground around it. Colt stepped in, holding a slightly bloody nose, adjusting the brim of his hat with his left hand and right holding the pistol, aimed over at Darton, who now had his sword poised in attack position.

"You're too far from me, and I got the projectile weapon. You really want to fight me?" Colt mused, rubbing the last bits of blood from his nostrils.

"You're here to kill me, so why should I just hand myself to you?"

"I've had a couple of dumbasses do that, but hey, your funeral, buddy. Cater it how you like."

"Quint!" the second scream of Bianca came, a shirt settling over her head as she ljumped out of the bedroom doorway. Colt looked over at the sudden scream for a moment, startled for a moment. Bingo. Qint slashed once with his sword horizontally, the air wisping at the blade cutting through it, Colt's gaze returning to Darton a moment later. The delay of the sword let Colt have long enough to pull the trigger before the blast of wind knocked him backward into the wall, his head racking up against the exposed panelling.

Darton was thrown back for a moment by the impact of a bullet, but not feeling the pain due to being in the moment. Adrenaline had not found its way to his veins in a long time, it had packed up and moved on, sold its plot of land on him, and moved to the suburbs. New land margins brought it back in full force, rennovating and making house in only a mere few moments, and his adrenaline was back again, instantly welling a feeling of fight and survival that he hadn't felt since Paris.

He ran forward, tackling Jeremy, Colt's ehad smashing against the back wall again as the mass of the man compacted into his gut. He coughed slightly at the impact, Darton stepping back to make a killing slash or stab. But, he hadn't the chance, as a quick jab from the bounty hunter hit Darton squarely in the face, his left foot stepping back instinctively for balance. Jeremy's other hand grabbed for the quickly swung blade at his head,and Darton's wrist being punched hard enough to induce him dropping the blade. Colt smirked at the moment of advantage he had, bringing the gun up again for a second shot, but found an equal retort as Darton grabbed the wrist with both of his hand, and smashed his fist into the wall behind Colt, the gun jumbling out of the stunned grip.

Darton jumped down for the gun, as did Jeremy, both men fumbling for it as it went further out of reach, then turning into a rolling, wrestling scuffle. Darton appeared on top, volleying punch after punch at the pinned Colt, who then rolled Darton back over and did the same.

Shit! Bianca, do something1 Help him! Don't stand here, girl! Bianca had stood on the sideline, the door frame during the entire incident, the lingering booming echo of the gunfire still fresh in her mind, inhibiting her to move, but life flowed to her veins as she stepped out, picking up the mistake sword of Darton's. She approached Colt from behind, his entire upper body above Darton's and throwing punch after punch at Darton who had his back on the ground, trying to fend off the blows. She let out a feminine yell of anger and spite, swinging the heavy sword, and missing Jeremy. He turned to see her yell, smiling at her miss.

"You missed, bitch."

"No,she didn't" Darton said underneath of him. Not a moment later, a gust of wind, seemingly created from the threads of nothing, like a wind that blew solely of every other wind, something that had nothing else to go with it except for the single gust it was, a desolate gale, blew Colt off of Darton. The bounty hunter hit the wall, leaving a few cracks in the old wallpaper, bits of the decaying paper falling off into dust as the wall shook violently. Jeremy grunted, standing up, a wobbly step and grabbing his head at an oncoming headache.

"My aspirin..." he muttered slightly, but Darton was already up and attacking him, throwing whatever punches and kicks he could muster in a fierce volley of attacks, Bianca standing behind on the wall, wide eyed and watching. She wasn't a fighter, this had all came instantly too her, she was thrown into something she had no idea what to do, and was scared. Scared of the fight, scared of losing Darton, scared of the moment, scared of everything.

Jeremy defended each blow as best he could, a punch hitting him in the kidneys with ferocity and a thunderous howl of pain, him swinging back in horrible attempt, his blistering headache keeping him from focusing too hard. Darton was gaining the upper hand, his enemy pinned against the wall and on the defensive as he threw punch after punch at the intruding bounty hunter.

"Get offa me!" he heard Jeremy yell, a slight twinge of a beast in his voice, something inhuman. And suddenly, he burst free, blocking a punch with force Darton didn't think he possessed, Colt's forearm flinging away Darton's like paper, and Jeremy' other hand landing a square punch on Darton's ribcage. Darton fel backwards, coughing, a little bit of blood in his cough from the punches he had recieved in his mouth. He scrambled to his feet, his sword lying at Bianca's feet as she sat in the corner, her legs grabbed and watching with wide eyes and an open mouth, unable to speak. Jeremy grabbed a bottle from his trench coat, ripped the top off and throwing a handful of aspirin into his mouth, chewing them up and swallowing them without care, then dove for his gun. Darton jumped after him, sword in his right hand.

As soon as he got the gun, he turned back to Darton, who was on top of him now. The cold steel of a blade rested on Colt's neck, but the cold steel of a barrel rested on Darton's chest. Quint was sitting above Jeremy, straddling him as Jeremy was lying on his back, his gun on the middle of Darotn's sternum while Darton's blade was held by both palms on his neck.

Both mean breathed heavy, not talking, looking into each other's eyes, tying to detect their next action or move. Jeremy not wanting to pull the trigger because it wasn't an instant kill, Darton would be able to push on or slump over his blade, and that'd be bad for his neck. Darton not wanting to push his blade deeper into the soft flesh of Colt because he couldn't do it fast enough that Jeremy wouldn't be able to pull that trigger.

"What now?" Darton said in wide open gasps, sweat starting to bead off of his head and onto his hair.

"Good question" Jeremy said, his cowboy hat intact the entire time, never leaving his head. They both sat tentatively, catching their breaths, the tension running high and neither flinching a muscle, waiting for the other to act.

"You stop hunting me, and I won't kill you."

"You let me kill you, I won't harm your girl."

"You can't harm her if you're dead."

"You can't protect her if you're dead." They both had equal answers and vituperations for each other, and seemed to writhe in their fear and anger.

"If I let go of this blade, will you kill me?"

"Yes."

"Not much incentive for me to now."

"If I put my gun away, will you cut my throat?"

"Yes."

"Quite a predicament." he said with a smirk, his large gapinggasps turning to shallow exhaustion breaths.

"I'll let go my sword on the count of three if you let go your gun. Deal?"

"One." Jeremy said, as if it were a yes.

"Two." Quint said slowly, the three not coming when it should have come in a second-by-second fashion. They both looked into each other's unblinking eyes, trying to see each other's reactions.

"...Three." Jeremy finally said a few moments later, the click of his gun going onto safety. Quint's eyes searched back and forth on Colt's expression, finally his blade rising off of the man's throat, a small red line of blood where the skin had been slightly cut left. Darton stood up slowly, the tip of his blade at Jeremy at all times, and Jeremy's pistol aimed at Darton. Despite the safety being on, he could turn it off and fire three rounds before Darton could blink. They both were standing now, looking at each other.

"Get out and don't ever come back." Darton said slowly, walking backwards to Bianca, never taking his eyes off of Colt.

"You're quite the bounty, my friend. No one's ever got away from me. I don't want to start now."

"You shot me once" he said, the small hole in his left hip showing the wound, "and you'll need more than one shot to drop me. That's too much money. Leave now. I'll not bother you, you don't bother me."

"We still have the problem about the money, kid."

"Take my jacket. Show that to the bounty office, and they'll know I'm dead. It's in the closet behind you." Darotn said, his trained eye still on Colt and the tip of his blade pointed at his heart. Colt didn't remove eye sight either, his left hand probing the contents of the closet blindly until it touched familiar fabric. He pulled out the green Seikishidan private coat, looking it over for a second.

"Pretty new. Only a private with those fighting skills?"

"Yeah, I was kind of pissed about that part too." Quint said with a smirk.

"Don't let your name ever surface again, because then they'll come asking for the bounty back if you're still alive. Be lucky kid, you're the first I've let go, and you will be the last." Colt said before holstering his gun. He put the Seikishidan coat under his arm, turned to the open (and doorless) doorway, spit out a glob of blood on the apartment floor and walked out. Darton's breaths turned into a sigh, and he dropped his sword and fell to his knees.

"Darton!" Bianca screamed, jumping at him, beofre he fell backwards, unconscious of blood loss and adrenaline finding the real estate poor, moving back out to the suburbs and away from Darton.

To Ky, the peace seemed intoxicating. Every breath, moment, minute, feeling, day, week seemed like a pronounced calm before the storm. Peace he had never been a part of, constant fighting and having to relocate was a modern thing. As a child, he was in the Seikishidan training programs since he could remember, and nearly monthly they'd pack up on an MT, and move base, since their positions were compromised, running along with the Seikishidan groups he was assigned to. He had never gotten used to peace, and he had never needed to, it wasn't in mind or in vocabulary untilrecently, when he was elected, by Kliff, to lead the Seikishidan. If he hadn't any other intention but peace, as the four leaders before him, he was not suited for the job. And, despite his internal strife with such peace, he had to war and fight for a cause he knew nothing of.

The jolted memories and internal conflict of peace though was booted aside by the feel of a hand on his shoulder, breaking the glazed look off of his eyes and the distant feeling inside of him. He had been staring inot the embers for a bit, and had to blink a few times, looking to his left where the hand was on his shoulder. The red laced gauntlets lead up to an arm, attached to Jaygus, who sat down next to Ky, steadying his descent with his hand on Ky, also in a friendly gesture.

"Thinking again, Mr. Kiske?"

"I'm doing it a lot lately."

"It's not a bad hobby."Jaygus reaffirmed.

"True, I know it isn't...but I'm not used to it, or this."

"Neither am I...I grew up in Germany during the Krieg, there's nothing I fear more than peace."

"At least we're on the same page, Jaygus." Ky sighed, putting both hands behind his back, and just looking out at the scene.

Every night there was a bonfire in the center of the town. It seemed to just be a thing that happened, no one ever started it, and there was no designation, but it always happened. A lot of the folks of town came, just to be a part of it. Kids ran around in circles around the fire, playing tag and poking at the embers with sticks, laughing in high pitched voices, compltely oblivious to anything except what they were doing at that moment. Parents sat around, on the skeletons of buildings and rubble laid out, watching the children, laughing, telling jokes, talking. Soldiers weren't absent either, being part of the fun.

Across from the center of the town, a small building which hadn't suffered too much damage was thrown back in shape with the efforts of fifteen soldiers in one day, and turned into a saloon. The bar tender from Bordeaux had hitched a ride over, being a soldier himself, and going under the pretense of relocation, but he came because a lot of his customers and friends had moved to Lyon, and he set up shop there. He was a soldier by name and occupation, but he was always behind that counter, serving up the homemade brews. And, the inside was a cacophony of laughs, jeers, and hoots from the soldiers inside, ones going in, others coming out, going in walking straight up, leaving stubmling, all the while not caring, having fun, smiiling.

Another thing the soldiers found was the A.A.'s, who weren't at shortage on the nightly event of the burning of random items found throughout the city. A few soldiers would be seen leaving the center of the orangey light to go out to where ever else, a woman in hand, and not be seen again until morning. Amongst the scene of what could be classified as human normallity wafted the silhouette of Oppem, rushing behind everyone, clipbard in hand, taking notes on the happenings, most likely malignant, and the small beady eyes set in rolls of cellulose milling over the "scene of Bacchial ignorane", in U.N. words.

Ky wasn't especially taken out for the occasion, and was generally just seen as another face in the crowd, and not singled out. Occasionally, a person would come up to him, shake his hand, or a soldier would give him an authoritative salute or nod, him returning it in favor. He never indulged in the festivities though, for professionality and choice, since it wasn't his forte. Not to be mistaken for pure foolishness, there were shifts of soldiers who had to take to the patrols around the darkened city, watching borders and making sure there was still perimeter security, despite the innards of the city being relatively (and uncharacteristically) joyful.

"Just think of how big the bon fire will be when the word spreads you kill Justice" Jaygus whispered with a chuckle to Kiske. Ky looked over at him, puzzled at first then looked backout at the fire. THe languid smoke wafting off of the orange glow seemed to carry the essence of its fiery orignator deep into the sky, setting an orange and gray hue amongst the dark blue midnight sky, littered with diamonds.

"I may be dead by then, who knows. It's been a hundred years of trying, what's to say I got the end for it?"

"Well, there's gotta be sometime to end it, and either we lose, or they do. And, from what I've seen from you, sir, we're not going to be on the losing end for much longer."

"I hope so too, Jaygus, I hope so too...only God knows."

"My friend, sometimes God doesn't choose." Ky looked over at Jaygus questioningly, not knowing whether to question or laugh at his effrontery to God. "Do not mistake me, God is powerful and indeed, He is to be feared...but I sometimes believe He is not truly controlling. He left us here to make our own decisions, and whether we damn ourselves or not, He'll watch us and guide us. But, our decisions, what we do...is sometimes the true test, to keep ourselves in salvation and not damnation, and to keep those who cannot shield themselves from evil out of damnation by our own cloaks of valor. We fight this war with our own, and God may be there with us, but we will have to win this war, God will not for us."

"...It's possible. As for God, I swear by Him everyday and night...he is my Lord and Savior, but I do not know if He is my friend sometimes."

"Well, I will always be for you, sir." Jaygus said with a comforting paternal smile he was good at giving, like oe he picked up from being a direct friend of Undersn, another master of that smile. "As for me, I'm going to go retire for the night...who knows what tomorrow may bring."

"Indeed, Jaygus. Good night." The sergeant stood, looking around at the bonfire once more, nodding to Ky, and then disappearing between alley ways and to where ever he found residence in the vacant city. Kiske sighed again, leaning back on his perch of rubble on which he sat, looking up at the orange tinted sky, deep in thought. SLowly, sleep took him over, the lingering sounds of life around him and the cracking embers lulling him to a sleep of unfmailiar peace, in no bed or embrace of God, not from battle exhaustion or blood loss, but simple relaxed timidness.

Ah...humans. I can smell them, the light filtering thrugh the bones of the city, the bright hue...it's probably fire and orange, but all I see is in red. No matter...it helps me see the real goal, the humans. I hear you, Siren..the voice, I know what to do, be calm.

Testament stood on the low rolling hills of lower France, a slight humidity lingering and a light gust. Light is a pretty good word to just describe France. No real weather spikes, no real big topography, nothing but a light moderation of everything. His boots, Seikishidan issue, but worn with years of age and decay, trampled on top of a few weeds and flowers, twisting them under his feet as the trampling of other feet approached behind him in sync, then stopped short all at the same time, husky breaths in and out all at the same time echoing in the midnight resonance.

Ah...finally here. I see you now, Lyon. And you...Ky Kiske, you better be here. I have something to settle with you...and my friends here will take care of your friends. Formations A and K spread out to flank the back side of the city, move quickly and quietly, at a speed of 12 miles per hour, no more than 3 decibles of sound a piece. Form at least a circle to enclose the city...notify me when they're all in position, Siren.

"Don't let me down now, Kiske. I'm coming for you...and your fucking fitlh race." Testament smiled through his black hair, hanging down to his mid chest, covering his face and a lot of his extremities, torn and weathered black shards of an old Seikishidan uniform, looking like a filth ridden rag, blackened by the elements, and hanging from his pale skinned body, showing off pieces of skin underneath the hanging uniform, like it was a secondary layer of rotten skin. His blod red eyes shone behind the hair though...they were never turned off, like constant bulbs, illuminated with hate, fury, and lust of blood, that no amount of blood could suffice for.

"Shit shit shit...I hate this shift. Always gotta have my perimeter duty on Tuesdays...why Tuesdays? Martha's always open on Tuesdays...she told me that. She doesn't have duty on Tuesdays, and I do. Now, I'm out her in the middle of fucking no where, watching goddamn nothing in the goddamn dark...shit." The soldier paced back and forth, his right hand resting on the hilt of his sheathed Seikishidan sword, whistling lightly, before finally finding a block of roof, probably belonging the the building behind it, and sat down. He put his head in his hand and his elbow on his knee, leaning forward.

His eyes searched the horizon, nothing there...looked to the sides, saw nothing but suffocating darkness. He yawned, stretching out and standing up again.

"Thanks God for coffee..." he mumbled, picking up a small stone, feeling its texture in his hands and throwing it out into the darkness. He could feel in his steps were the edge of the city was, the ends of the buildings seen thrugh the moonlight, but the paved road ending abruptly, the clods of dirt and grass rooting thrugh the edges of the old tar and bringing nature to the manifested human influence.

Suddenly, he heard a slight sound. He turned his head to the direction of the sound, from the inside of an abandoned house, its walls deteriorated, two stories high, leaving only cement columns holding up the empty base. He slowly unsheathed his sword, the metallic zing as it came free of its shield, holding it in both hands. His cautious steps moved to the building, breath shallow and in small bursts.

"...Hello?" he mumbled in timid fear. The instant the sound hit, he was unaware and feeling secure, and now...it just shattered, the thoughts of Gear, Justice, death, Martha, and anything else, sprinting a marathon around his brain. He walked forward still, his eyes peering into the darkness as best they could, the faint orange glow from the center of the city faintly giving him light, and the dim moon also leaving no real light for him to use in its crescent stage.

A small piece of rubble crunched under his next step, him nwincing at the sound, standing silent for a moment before continuing. He finally stood inside the building, his sword held in front of him and surveying. After a sweep with his eyes, he sighed, going to sheath his sword again when another thump was heard from an adjacent building. Now, he knew something was happening and was up.

"Come out, now." he said forcefully, his fear being hid by a gulp he took with his own throat. He exitted the building into the narrow alley seperating them and looked into the next one with an equal sense of hesitation, finding nothing, then returning out to his post looking at the horizon and hills of France.

Drip...drip...drip... His body went cold with the sound of drops of water. He knew it not to be the weather or rain...but he knew what it was. There are a few folk tales, well, not folk tales, since they're more or less true, but stories about the drip drip drip when facing Gears. I'll tell you in a moment. he spun around, slashing his sword furiously and with a yell that hardly escaped his throat. As he turned though, his base for standing was lost, as his ankles were cut in a quick swipe from a scythe. He toppled down to his side, falling onto flat pavement, the wind knocked out of him from his fall. He opened his mouth to scream (as best he could), but was unable to, the feeling of the grooves of a boot on his neck.

"Filthy fucking creature...always ready to die, eh? Well, I'll be your shephed, little sheep." Testament pushed down on his boot slowly, watching the man's eyes bulge slightly, cheeks turn crimson, his hands clawing at his leg, but only a smirk satisfaction coming across his face. Then, Testament lifted his foot off of the man's throat temporarily, a otrrent of wind scking into his lungs, blood flowing to his face, then the boot came back down with thunderous force.

The drip drip drip is basically a story about Testament. Soldiers tell this story of knowing that Testament is upon you when you hear the dripping sound. No matter where it comes from, you know it is him. On the battlefield, if you hear it...you're basically dead, except if you're telling the story, then you're lucky to be alive. But...the drip comes from blood. The story goes that Testament always is bleeding, or has blood on him...bleeding for his own sins or other's, or the blood of those killed, any number of stories. Either way, there's a drip everytime Testament is near...some sort of blood. From what I know, there's a cut on his right hand that never heals, despite being a Gear. It bleeds...always does. That blood is the only certain way people know who he was, that he was human, because it's not the stale and coagulated goo in most Gears, it's a running and pumped blood, hence why he bleeds.

There's another story about his scythe, the preferred weapon. He always uses a scythe in battle, held down by his knee caps. They say it forms and vanishes from his blood...that he can summon his scythe from the very blood he has inside of him, and then return it in an instant. It'd explain a lot, being a blood scythe, but somehow, it seems far fetched for me. I mean, yeah, there's Gears, Fuurenken, Fuuraiken, and Justice...but come on, magic is only a psuedonym for another scientific breakthrough humans found, not some mythical dragon energy that makes bolts and summons hell spawns, though you'd be hard pressed to not show how we've used magic in the exact same ways, eh?

Back to the drip though. That's the story of it...the drip means Testament, plain and simple. The few who originated the story have to have some backing to their tales, considering that I find it to be true, but also, whenever Testament gets near to a human to hear the drip, they should be dead anyway, and about all of them are. These few survivors...they tell these stories, and sometimes, they're fabrications, like a lot of war stories are, but that's alright. There needs to be stories, some sort of levity, through out war and hard times. If you let yourself be killed by the times and the emotions, instead of the enemy, you'll never have anything to live for when the war is over, or anything to live for when you're not fighting. If fighting is life, what happens when you win every fight? We've come to the end of this chapter...but there's always a next, and it doesn't end. What would an author be, telling a real story or not, if he couldn't build suspense and thrills? You may know the story, you may have lived it, but what's the point to reading if I just go "this happened, that happened"? Nothing, so I have to have some sort of writing skills to complement my will and drive to write a story for you, my dear readers, to make it something to read.


Zeronova's Notes:
And there's the end of the Darton-Colt scenes for a while. I think I did good in putting in a cameo, and making it seem like it was good to have it there. Also, I won't just throw Jeremy Colt away, since of course, in real books, you never see an author introduce a character who does a pretty major thing and then disappear (unless they're killed, unless they're still important in their death...we'll never forget Aeris). My 5k updates always make sure the chapters are evened out, like 185,000 and 190,000 to 195,000, get it? So, I'll make a shorter next few chapters to even it out (not a huge gap of shortages, just maybe a few 2 or 3 chapters at about 4k instead of 5k to even out the word count) to hit the 200k. Till Monday.