Disclaimer: I do not own Fossil Fighters, any of the vivosaurs or characters (Except for Creed and Vestello), and am simply writing this for my own amusement.
A/N: As the sequel to my previous fic, Dark Horse Gambit, this story will continue building up on the foundation I have already laid down. It shall detail the adventures of novice Fossil Fighter Vestello Leoncor as he competes in the infamous Caliosteo Cup. What sort of troubles will he face? You are welcome to read and find out.
Acknowledgments: Firstly, I would like to thank Devaro Ayanami for his wonderful help as both my Beta and my sounding-board. Secondly, I would like to thank Tempest Bound for encouraging me to post this story now, rather than later. Thirdly, I would like to thank Vathara for all the wonderful stories -which I highly recommend you read- she has posted. Reading them has helped me find ways of expanding my own writing style.
/\/\/\/\
Chapter 8
Tournament Finale II
From: Leveche
Subject: Re-re-re-re Last Warning
-_-;
That first sentence of yours carries a lot of implications, and I don't like any of them. What aren't you telling me? And, for that matter, why aren't you telling me? I'm warning you now, kid, I am going to get answers one way or another even if I have to glean directly from your Spirit to do so.
As for the rest of your message…
Don't worry about the memory bit, they're fragmented now but they'll get clearer before long. (Possibly at the least convenient time but, hey, you might get lucky) And the only thing I can tell you is proceed with extreme caution. Be alert and light on your feet because if something had Boneyard scared enough to try and sink the islands to try and stop it, well, a wise Fighter is always ready for things to blow up in your face. It hurts, it can distract you, but let the initial wave of shock/surprise/whatthehell pass and act. KillItWithFire! if you have to!
Stay alive kiddo.
((On a side note: Good luck with the Finals!))
/\/\/\/\
The irregular tempo of hard-rubber against polished-tile echoed off the surrounding the surrounding walls of the eerily empty lobby.
It's almost time. Vestello grinned, unable to resist the visible spring that accompanied each step. It was all he could do not to bounce outright, which would only serve to annoy the irritable white-and-gold fluff ball on his shoulder.
A sharp jab to his kidney just about startled the bluenette out of his own skin.
An ominous crackle as a lattice-work cracks of warning blue-grays formed and spread across smug green
::Settle down, before you do something…foolish.::
Blinking, Vestello glanced down at the trilobite's black-red gaze as it peered up the general vicinity of his hip. Considered. Then sighed as he forced himself to slow down—it wasn't like the door was that far away, after all—and try and reign in the hummingbird beat of his heart.
::You're right, I'm sorry. I just feel so…jittery:: He sent, and knew that was an understatement. It was like he didn't know which way to jump and his bones were trying to shake themselves apart as a result.
A soft chir, warm feathers rubbed against his cheek.
Cheerful yellows splashed across anticipatory red-orange.
::Victory in reach, one last epic Battle, of course you're excited! If you weren't I'd be worried.::
A chuckle, fingers coming up to stroke the feathered vivosaur's lower jaw, prompting a happy purr.
::True, but I can't help feeling anxious…and I don't think it's about the Fight.:: Feeling twin skeptical stares Vestello amended ::Well…not entirely, anyway.::
A dusty swirl of understanding orange:
::The ends yet loose? Questions unanswered?::
A grimace. ::Yeah…that::
Warning pinpricks through the shoulder of his jumpsuit, accented by a low hiss.
Annoyed burgundy blended with exasperated grays
::Well worry later. Don't get distracted now!::
A snicker. ::Alright, alright, I get it. No need to bite.::
The bluenette stared up at the ceiling, smile fading as his eyes slid half-closed. Lord, please watch out for me. Help me face the challenges ahead of me, both in the Finals, and with the conspiracy I'm caught in-
"Pardon me."
The sudden voice snapped him out of his prayer.
The staff attendant looked him over. "You're Vestello?" When he nodded she grinned. "Great! So once Rupert gets here we can get on with the Finals—" A mechanical beep sounded and, bemused, the attendant pressed a finger to her earpiece. "Yeah?"
Silence followed as she listened to whoever was on the other end.
"Rupert did what?"
Vestello flinched at the volume and stared wide-eyed at the suddenly pale attendant.
"Um…" Fingers dropping from the earpiece, the attendant shifted uncomfortably. "I don't really know how to tell you this, but Rupert…" She paused, inhaled, then continued. "Well, his father just came and took him away."
It was like a sucker punch had stolen all his breath away and he had been dumped into a cold storage freezer as his mind tried, and failed, to process that statement.
A sudden blur of yellow-tipped pink.
"Diga! Digadiga! Awful! So awful!" Blue eyes wide, Pauleen skidded to a halt wringing her hands helplessly. "Rupert, diga!" She shook her head, words failing to cooperate. "You gotta… You need to… I diga-don't know what to do!" Slim fingers fisted in orange fabric. "Come on, diga!"
Vestello let her drag him towards the doors as the situation sunk in. The inhibiting ice of shock cracked and amber eyes narrowed as his rarely seen temper ground into motion.
The CEO of FossilDig had interfered with his friend. Their Fossil Battle. This, this he would not stand for.
And this time. His lips curled, more snarl then grin. Todd's not here to stop me.
/\/\/\
He couldn't move, he couldn't breathe. Being spontaneously deposited in the darkest depths of the Marianna Trench would surely have been kinder. In either case, the crushing pressure rendering him immobile would do him in long before the soul-sapping cold could. But surely he couldn't have heard properly...
"Do not make me repeat myself."
Rupert flinched, but he kept himself still. Waiting, hoping, praying.
"You will withdraw from the Cup, and you will do so now."
The tug of the ocean's gyre, pushing and pulling, keeping land forever out of reach.
The pull was something he knew. It was always there, sucking him under until he had no choice but to submit to currents stronger and greater than himself. After all, Rupert Faro was nothing more than another minor cog making up the great machine that was FossilDig, Inc. What he wanted as an individual didn't matter, it never mattered, in the grand scheme of things. But now…
~"We'd love to have Rupert join us, right Vestello?"~
~Smiling amber framed by wild blue, bringing a sense of dancing winds atop a high plateau.~
~"From now on, the four of us are the Caliosteo Patrol Team!"~
He could feel the pull that was FossilDig's -Image trying to drag his will down again, but it was like something was holding him up. A lifebuoy amidst smothering waves. A fire chasing away the deadening cold. With the fire's heat came an uncharacteristic sense of boldness, and he felt himself speak before sense—or was it habit?—could catch up.
"But, Father, why?" This match was important. It was… something he couldn't quite grasp, just yet. Only that it was vital and he could not simply allow it to slip away from him. "I've come so far!" Why was his Father trying to take him away before he could catch that feeling? "I refuse to accept this!"
A distant part of his mind, the part that constantly reminded him of his Father's wishes and his duty to the company, balked at his own audacity. While a greater portion marveled at the fiery wave he was riding, that roared a need to Fight/Challenge/WIN.
And perhaps most surprising of all was how the vacuum pull seemed to recede in the wake of those same flames.
Taken aback—an odd contrast to the elder Faro's usual unflappable poise—his father looked away. "I analyzed the Fossil Battle Data of your opponent, this Vestello person."
A reeling rip-current dragging down jetsam, crashing waves shattering stolid stone.
Despite the phantom rush of heat, Rupert felt a new chill grip his heart. He didn't…
"I then used this data to run battle simulations against your team. The results were disheartening." From behind his visor, his father set his gaze on him once more. "Your chance of victory is only fifty percent."
Rolling breakers cut by a wall's edge, severed water collects in a static pool
Fossil Battle Data was extremely personal data each Fighter had, kept out of public light. It held not only the Fighter's personal information, not simply their vivosaur's stats, but their own aural levels. Using such information was the most accurate—but hardly foolproof—method science had of predicting the outcome of a Battle before it was even begun, but it is also a terrible invasion of privacy. It did not surprise Rupert that his father had his own Data, but that he had looked into Vestello's…
It's not right. The gold-eyed teen thought, fists clenching. It's indecent. Vestello has a right to his own privacy!
"This event will be seen by people the world over." His father went on. "If you lose, it will cause irreparable harm to FossilDig, Inc. We cannot take that risk. Therefore, you must withdraw for the good of the company."
The tide receding until another full-moon of opportunity arises
Rupert saw red. "That's madness!" Was it his imagination, or did his Father flinch? "There's no way to tell who will win a battle until you step into the stadium!" Too long, far too long he had bowed to his father's Will without question. But now he had found something he wanted and he would not let his father's paranoia stop him! "And besides, I want to battle Vestello! It's fun!"
It was a mistake to say that last bit, he realized that even as his father recovered, drew himself up, and pushed his visor higher up the bridge of his nose. The colored glass catching the sun's light.
"I expect that kind of meaningless tripe from third-rate Fighters, but not from you!"
Waves surged, caps frothing in a rapid's wrath
He could almost hear those waves dousing his fiery shelter in a serpent's hiss of steam. Deep inside, the little boy starved for his father's approval quailed at the sharp rebuke.
His father shook his head. "I never should have allowed you to enter this tournament."
A sudden undertow dragging him down-down, away from sun-ground-air
Breathe fled his lungs and Rupert trembled. He could feel that pull, that command-to-yield, ripping away his life buoy and dragging him down.
"It is a mistake I do not intend to repeat." Turning away, the elder Faro began to walk. "We will address the issue of your selfish petulance later. The company helicopter is waiting."
The wave crashed down, tearing away foundation and support
He was drowning, helpless to stop as his body yielded to his father's order and followed in the elder man's wake. The earlier warmth was gone, smothered, and all he could do was let himself be swept away -
No! His mind screamed. Please, Father-!
Distantly, he could hear the muted roar of a helicopter's propellers. Getting closer. No! He couldn't let it end like this! Rupert opened his mouth, trying to draw in breath to speak, to scream, anything to—
The acrid taste of ozone coated his tongue.
A flash, then a deafening crash that almost blocked out the tortured shriek of metal. Rupert blinked back stars, the world snapping back into focus in the deathly silence that followed, and he stared.
Sparks of electricity still dancing through thick, storm-colored fur, the parium tossed its head once before its form dispersed. A familiar bluenette caught the hornless beast's medal, and Rupert almost stepped back at the sight of furious amber eyes.
Oddly silent, his father eyed the ruined rotors of the company helicopter—and the shaken form stumbling out of it—before turning his attention to the two newly arrived teens. "Are these your friends, Rupert?" There was no inflection in his tone. He might as well have been discussing the weather, and that was terrifying.
And he could feel that pull recede, draw together, and surge in a great tsunami's wrath, ready to crush any lingering sense of Self to dust—
-shattered in the force of a screaming gale, splitting dark waters down to oddly dry land. Land which hardened beneath him, supportive, and rising up to hold back the tide as the winds harried the fractured currents like ravens mobbing an owl.
It's Vestello, Rupert realized, seeing the furious resolve in the bluenette's eyes as the other stared at both Faros. He's holding it back, but, how…?
"Are they the ones who have filled your head with nonsense?" The scorn in his father's tone could have stripped paint. But the words lacked their intended sting because Rupert could feel the swirling winds lash out in disgust, feel a warning rumble of a mountain ready to give way. Both promising action while at the same time feedingguardingnurturing waterlogged cinders back to life.
Vestello was here, as was Pauleen, and they would not let his Father have his way unchallenged.
"They are my friends!" That was it! What he had been trying to grasp! "And they have taught me invaluable lessons about the joys of battling!" The Patrol Team were his friends and couldn't care less whether he was the heir of FossilDig, Inc or some urchin from the streets. All that mattered was him, Rupert.
His father stared at him, face unreadable, before he spoke again. "Very well. If fun is your desire, I will simply have to remove it from the equation."
Again a chill tore through his spirit, threatening to put out the still banked flames, but whirling winds bolstered them from the cold, letting them rage higher. He did not flinch.
"Rupert, I challenge you and one of your friends to a Fossil Battle." A single step forward. "There is no place for fun in Fossil Battles, and it's time for you to remember that!" Metal gleamed as the elder Faro brandished a forearm.
Rupert recognized the metal, its shape its tone, remembered the feel of testing it out himself when it had first been developed. "That thing is a Fossil Battle computer developed by FossilDig, Inc." Oh, this was not good, not at all. "A fighter can use it to control two vivosaur teams at the same time." He couldn't fight that, not with his Father behind it.
Pleading gold met hard amber. "Please, Vestello! I need your help! You have to join me in this battle against my father!" Help! I can't do this alone!
And he saw understanding in the bluenette's gaze as the other teen flanked him and turned a frosty glare at the elder Faro.
"The team of Vestello and Rupert is the best ever, diga!" Pauleen cheered, retreating to a safe distance as both sides readied for Battle. "You can't lose!"
Even with the space between him, Rupert could hear his father scoff.
"I have run the numbers. The odds of you beating me are less than five percent. My victory is a foregone conclusion!" Metal gleamed once more as the CEO of the Fossil Dig Empire launched his twin teams of saurpodic monsters. A terrifying sight to any Fighter- Sauropods were among the most devastating of the Vivosaur groups- but Vestello was not deterred in the least.
In fact, Rupert could have sworn the bluenette was growling-
Glass-laced winds seemed to scoff, batting away at a stray wave
::Foregone conclusion? Come on you dastard, let's see you back up that claim!::
Gold eyes widened. Was that?
But it didn't matter, there was a battle at hand and he would do his part. Fingers tracing use-worn mechanisms, he lifted his arm to release his team—
-paused as a firm hand halted his own and pushed it down.
Face cold as stone, Vestello simply shook his head and stepped forward. An odd chitinous rattle matched each step—was that a terata clinging to his hip?—as the bluenette's shoulders set like stone.
Chains? Rupert frowned at the phantasmal sound. Another rattle, and then what he could only interpret as a click from some heavy lock. The crushing presence of Deep Ocean was shattered by a roar of earth and wind. All traces of water's touch vanished for a desert's cruel kiss. He could almost see the ever changing expanse of dunes tossed about by purposeful, raging winds.
As if one of the terrible sirocco storms of the middle-east-which can strip the flesh from a man's bones and leave entire towns lost under the dunes—had coalesced, turned, and decided to act- wait, what's…? The company heir glimpsed a pulsing red-rimmed medal before the air around them bled red.
Cloaked by steam, coal-black save for the thick, pulsing veins of magma-red, and looming as if directly out of a Toho film, the behemoth roared.
Hands clapped over pained ears, Rupert stared at the truly monstrous T-Rex Lord. He'd heard of them, even seen one at the call of one of the great Synchro Fighters, but the viewing screen failed to truly convey the size and power of the Super Evolved tyrant. It easily dwarfed the sinuous silver and mantled gray shadows flanking it. One could almost forget they existed at all, such was the presence was this incarnation of fire.
Fear lanced through Rupert's heart. How can he bear it? Vestello was Earth and Wind, vulnerable to fire in a way most were not, and even a simple T-Rex was known to send their would-be-Handlers to the hospital in critical care. Someone had to do something before the other was reduced to ash-
But the bluenette was standing firm, spine set as he held out a single, commanding arm.
In Rupert's mind's eye and ear, he heard earth roar and wind scream in tandem with the surging flames. Stone melted into molten magma and air grew so hot it became like a mirror and all of that surging together in a focused eruption of intent.
Had he described Vestello's rage as a sandstorm? With that behemoth at his beck-and-call the term volcanic would be a far more apt description.
Then the behemoth lowered its great head. Arcs of magma flashed as it raised its armored forelimbs, beckoning. Rupert saw its pulsing sides expand—
Static.
/\/\/\
Fire-laced earth struck home, setting the hexad of giant sauropods ablaze and turning the surrounding pavement into searing quicksand. The power and rage of a Super Evolved Vivosaur, one of the strongest known, was devastating.
Yet, the devastation was less than it could have been.
It hurt to hold Tyranno back. As in ripping-his nails-from-their-beds hurt, only all over. And, to be honest, he didn't really want to. The man would have deserved it for all that he had done to Rupert, Leveche even agreed with him, but…
It's not worth it. He's not worth it. Gritting his teeth, Vestello matched his will against that burning will to consume, to destroy that final smoke-hidden target, and forced those fires to bank.
Plus, there's those pesky little things called consequences. And I don't really want to deal with lawyers and lawsuits.
And Rupert would be sad.
An odd twist of will and Tyranno's form collapsed back into his medal, and Vestello stumbled. Amber eyes closing, the bluenette shook his head to try and shake the both real-and-not smoky haze.
A gentle upwelling of soothing greens spread like a balm across scorched earth
::Help here, will not allow the fire to consume.::
When did-? Shrugging off his confusion, Vestello leaned into Wrath's supportive presence.
Last time, Wrath had tried to suborn him to his will, and only Vicious' timely interference had broken Vestello free. That encounter had felt like a murderous undertow trying to drag him down. Now, though? It was a gentle push that kept him afloat, a cool balm across phantasmal burns. And, now that he was paying attention, he could feel the silent support of his other Vivosaurs pressing up against his own psyche.
A puff of warm air. A firm—yet gentle—nudge against his chest. Vestello glanced up, and smiled as he scratched the gray under jaw.
::Thank you.:: Gratitude was directed both inward and out. ::I probably would have done something stupid if you hadn't been supporting me.::
Twin snorts, one audible and one not. A tired snicker escaped the bluenette.
The soft rustle of scales against still-solid concrete caught his ear, and Vestello glanced over to the sprawled red-clad form lying in Vehemence's semi-coiled embrace. The poor silverette looked dazed, eyes oddly glassy, but a gentle bump from a serpentine head seemed to help drag the other back to the here-and-now.
Vestello winced. I overdid it, just a bit. Perhaps using Tyranno had been overkill…
"I…I don't understand."
Scratch that, Vestello corrected with a silent snarl, it hadn't been enough overkill. Not if the elder Faro could still speak coherently. Hell, not if he could still sit up without aid. Growling, amber eyes narrowed, the bluenette redirected his gaze to the stunned CEO.
"My simulations assured me of victory!"
The dark part of his heart that kept howling for the man's blood, preened in the consolation prize of having shattered the man's untouchable poise so completely. Singed, ruffled, and a very nice crack through one side of his visor's mirrored surface, Mr. Faro had certainly looked better.
"Listen to me, Father. I want to face Vestello in the Final." Leaning against a helpful Vehemence for stability, Rupert stared beseechingly through fading smoke and heat shimmers at his father. "I want to battle without any restrictions. Even if I lose…" Hesitance, the tentative testing of a completely alien concept. Then Rupert flashed a shy grin at the bluenette before staring straight ahead again. "I'll never regret that I tried."
Good for you, Rupert. Vestello grinned, pride surging in a rush of warmth.
"Oh, Rupert." Having recovered his footing, the CEO made to approach, but thought better of it after a glance at slowly-hardening insta-quicksand. He looked at his son, then looked away. "It's time I told you the truth. I wasn't just trying to keep you shackled for the sake of the company."
Against the palm of his hand, Vestello felt Vicious go still.
"…What?" Rupert's voice was uncertain.
"You were always skilled at battling. Even as an infant, the joy on your face when you won a battle was something to behold. I vowed early on that you would never know the bitter sting of defeat. I only wanted you to be happy—"
He can not be serious.
Vestello saw red as words vanished in the wind. A snarl sounded—eerily like Savage's own- as his body moved—
"Vestello, no, diga!"
-skittered around entrapping limbs, steps loud enough for the illusion of rupturing ground, and lunged. Feeling his knuckles collide with something solid was immensely satisfying. Vivosaurs snarling at the forefront of his mind, Vestello's hands blurred into motion.
You're not getting off that easy!
If he were to be perfectly honest, Vestello would admit that he hadn't the foggiest idea what all he was signing. Whatever it was made all remaining color drain rapidly from the downed tycoon's face-sans the blossoming purple-gray forming along angular cheek bones—and an expression of shame to appear. In seconds the man could no longer make direct eye contact with the furious teen and only kept his head angled just high enough to continue watching the barrage of hand signs.
Eventually the rage seemed to ebb slightly, leaving the bluenette suddenly aware of an iron grip on one shoulder.
"Vestello, calm down." That was Todd's voice. "Joe won't be happy if you bring the whole town down on our ears."
Blinking, the orange-clad teen shook his head to shake off the remaining gossamers of fury and paused. Blinked again. Perhaps it hadn't been an illusion after all…Those cracks hadn't been there a moment ago, and the concrete seemed solid now, if a bit stirred up. But those meter-high stalagmites were definitely new.
A sense of vindictive reds in the back of his mind suggested that he hadn't been imagining Savage's involvement, either.
Motion in his peripheral vision revealed the reappearance of a thoroughly shaken helicopter pilot helping his boss to his feet. The wary looks the man was shooting in his direction left him feeling oddly smug—no, oddly enough that emotion seemed to be coming from Tumult, who was admiring the aftereffects of his handiwork.
It was…kind of odd to be able to feel all the subtle nuances coming from his vivosaurs as they used his senses to perceive the world around him. Especially since-
A strangled cough snapped the blunette from his musings as the FossilDig CEO tried, with limited success, to clear his throat. Looking in Rupert's direction, the man tried to speak, but met narrowed amber eyes and whatever words he had died on his tongue. Instead, the man bowed, or as much as he could while leaning on his pilot's shoulder, and the two men vacated the area.
That Rupert made no response to his father's aborted advance was very telling.
A sudden whoop made them all jump.
"Hooray, digadig!" Pauleen pumped a red-clad hand into the air. "We've solved all the problems!" A moment's pause. "Again! Now," Grinning she looked them over. "Come on, diga! You need to get ready for the final!" Then she pounced.
"Wait, what are you-" Yelping, Rupert was dragged off by the exuberant pinkette.
Well…Vestello snickered as he watched. That certainly snapped him out of it.
And indeed, Rupert seemed to have recovered some of his spirit…or was it Spirit. The thought darkened Vestello's mood again. I think I was too easy on that-
"I can't believe you managed to beat the FossilDig CEO!" Todd's voice snapped him from his growing ire, as it always could. "Rupert's got guts, I'll give him that much…"
Something in his tone during that last comment. Vestello turned. Could he…?
For a moment, there was an odd look in the blonde's blue eyes, then he blinked and looked at his friend, suddenly sheepish. "Oh, and you, too!" He toed a tiny ledge absently. "But me…" He glanced up again. "Um, yeah. Never mind! It's nothing." A bright grin. "I'm gonna cheer for you with everything I have! I wanna see the awesomest Fossil Battle ever!" A blur of green, and he was off, leaving Vestello blinking after him.
::Did you feel that too?::
A rumble above and a rustle of scales to the side answered him, but neither vivosaurs responded to the question. But in his mind's eye, Vestello could see the twin swirls of thoughtful pale orange.
Vestello hummed. Guess I'll have to look into it later. A grin. But first, I have a Battle to win.
/\/\/\/\
From: Harmattan
Subject: Best Served
You know that old saying 'revenge is a dish best served cold'? Well, as it turns out, Retribution, is a dish best served Nuked. I FINALLY managed to confront Mr. Faro about how he was treating Rupert…so to speak. The idiot was trying to make Rupert resign from the Cup before our Match. He almost managed it too and…you should have seen what he was doing to Rupert. Is Mr. Faro a Synchro? Because if he is and I find out he was doing that deliberately…
Anyway, I set Tyranno, my T-Rex, on him. Did I mention I gave Tyranno a Gold Fossil ^~^
Six sauropod vivosaurs, barbecued in one attack. I think I might get scolded for melting the square of Cranial City, though…and maybe sued for flash-frying a FossilDig Helicopter…and for assaulting a VIP…Um…know any good lawyers?
Ah well, I'm about to go to my last match. Wish me luck!
/\/\/\/\
Ugh, this chapter whooped my butt. What in the world gave me the bright idea to write from Rupert's perspective? His whole bit was an uphill battle, both ways, and I had to re-work it almost five times before I was even remotely happy. And then the darn chapter didn't want to wrap up and I fought it for weeks before I could get to a somewhat decent conclusion.
Also, about that final Miraculous Fossil? Funny story about that. You see, In-Game I was trying to get the final one to evolve all my pre-selected Vivosaurs, only I was one short and the various methods of finding one while digging didn't work. So I went and farmed Silver Fossil Rocks to clean and donate them for Points until I saved up enough to purchase a Miraculous. Then I Evolved Tyranno and got ready for my epic clash against Rupert's dad—who would have gone down in one hit had the Tyrant Lord been able to strike at all three Vivos at once, but, eh, that's what Creative License is for.—when I decided to stop by John Guano to get rid of a couple dropping fossils that had been taking up space for a while. So I get there, hand them over and what does he give me?
A Miraculous Fossil.
Go figure.
Reviews are always appreciated. They let me know my story is not simply collecting virtual dust. And by reviews I mean something a bit more than 'awesome story' or the like. Tell me what you enjoyed, and even what you did not (though please refrain from going on a tangent).