Disclaimer: The Compass of Order says I don't own Xenosaga.
Author's Notes: It's a long one-shot, I know, but I believe it's worth your time, especially if you like the characters mentioned in the summary.
Just please, after you've read the whole story, don't give me reviews like: "That's totally impossible, Jr.'s only human, he can't do stuff like that! And what about his clothes?!" Think about how it's possible for KOS-MOS to pull huge weapons out of her panties, or for Albedo to blow his head off and remain standing, while said head regenerates. Obviously, regular physics and human biology do not apply to Xenosaga, so I ditched absolute realism for coolness' sake. :)
Sixteen Awkward Steps (in the right direction)
by Lucrecia LeVrai
It was just like Albedo to choose a creepy, abandoned church as a suitable place for their meeting. Stopping behind the door, Jr. rolled his eyes at the melodrama, but in reality, he couldn't care less. Given the present circumstances, he would have agreed to come even if his twin had invited him to the very bottom of a black hole.
He sighed and dug both hands into the pockets of his dark trenchcoat. Albedo was nowhere in sight, but that didn't have to mean anything. Jr. knew his brother could be as well lurking in the shadows, in one of the many niches, waiting to make his dramatic entrance. Fine, he thought, let him have his share of fun. Instead of reaching out through their feeble mental link, once cut and now barely functioning after years of disuse, the boy began to walk down the central nave, his boots echoing loudly against the marble floor.
It took every single ounce of his willpower to manage such inhuman composure.
Ever since he had learned that his twin was still alive—not in a human body and no longer breathing, but alive all the same—Jr. felt that his world had been once again turned upside down. Caught up in the struggle against the remains of the Immigrant Fleet and his father's unclear ambitions, surrounded by countless people whose safety literally depended on his decisions, he couldn't afford to get very emotional, let alone pay this unexpected revival too much attention. In those rare moments when he was alone, however, his every conscious thought led back to Albedo.
That bastard might have been a crappy little brother, but seeing his smirking face again, barely two weeks ago, had made something inside Jr. snap. He had never felt more relieved in his whole life. Relieved, happy and furious. He didn't know what sort of game his twin kept playing with him, but he was slowly getting tired of it all. He had killed Albedo with his own hands; it had been arguably the worst experience of his life, the very first time he had seriously considered putting a gun to his own head, because he couldn't live with what he had done. And now, almost a year later, the asshole was back, cracking jokes, mocking him and acting as if nothing had ever happened. Jr. could no longer feel his twin's heartbeat, and their link was severely damaged, but still, the man was here, free of his U-DO-induced madness—though the latter didn't exactly mean that most people would pass him as sane.
Jr. wasn't so naïve as to believe that Albedo's return could be a new beginning for the both of them. The bridges had been burnt. It was too late to make amends, they had already hurt each other in a way that would make all their attempts at apology look ridiculous. Jr. knew that the younger man still harbored a grudge against him, if not downright hated him, and besides, he wasn't sure if he was ready to forgive and forget, either. Perhaps it would take them an eternity to form a feeble truce if it ever came down to it. Most likely, they didn't have that much time. Things were starting to get hectic around them, almost to the point when Jr. felt like a pawn trapped in some grander scheme. He had often tried to shake it off, and yet the uneasiness remained, growing stronger with each passing week.
The boy's heavy boots clinked for the last time, and then the church was silent. He stood before the main altar, craning his neck to get a better view of an ancient cross and a few sun-powered, holographic frescos that still worked, flashing nameless saints and their virtuous deeds. A large stained-glass window towered above it all. After a moment of hesitation, Jr. recognized the image from a book he had once read: Saint George and Stihdjia the Dragon. How ironic. It seemed that everything had a double meaning these days. He sighed, inhaling the scent of rust and ozone. It was about time his bastard of a brother made his presence known.
"It took you a while just to find this place, Rubedo."
The man's silky voice would have startled him, if he hadn't been expecting it so much. Still, Jr. felt his skin crawl. He wasn't scared for his dear life—he figured he could always kick his twin's ass for the second time, if necessary—but he certainly didn't want to fight. And this meant that he couldn't afford provoking Albedo, which was of course easier said than done.
Ever so slowly, he turned around. Nobody was there, the church seemed to be filled only with dust, rubble and broken machinery. A single row of footprints led to the altar, and that was his own trail. Jr. clenched his teeth, fighting against a wave of irritation that threatened to overcome his common sense.
"You could at least show yourself, bastard!"
"I'm happy to see you too, my dear heart." Chuckling, the white-haired man stepped out of one the naves. He still wore his flashy, long cape, and in the soft light of the church he looked almost angelic—when he was anything but that. "Missed me?"
"You and your damn games? Hardly," Jr. shot back at once. He was torn by conflicting urges: his fingers itched to punch his twin in the face, but at the same time another part of him wanted nothing more than to run to his twin and bury his face in the man's chest. His pride and stubbornness kept him in place, though. It was obvious that any of these gestures' true meaning would have been lost on Albedo. He shook his head. "I've had enough of this crap. What the hell's going on here? I thought that you… Why are you still alive?"
"Does it disappoint you?" Albedo's voice sounded quite playful, and yet his eyes were narrowed into slits. Jr. felt his own fists clench—how could Albedo assume things like that?
"You know that's not it, you idiot," he said, perhaps a bit sharper than intended, glaring up at his pretentious little brother. "But you owe me an explanation, don't you?"
"Actually…" The younger man shrugged, serious despite the hollow laughter in his voice. "I don't feel like I owe you anything. But guess what, Rubedo? This means we're sort of even right now. So stop feeling sorry for both of us, and start paying attention to what I really have to say. I haven't come here to listen to you whine, as tempting as it might sound."
"I don't–"
"Yes, you do," Albedo cut him short, before Jr. could say anything else. "I don't even need to search your mind to know, it's written right across your face. Although I suppose it would kill you just to admit it. So shall I perhaps help you with your lines?" Smirking, the white-haired man took a few steps forward and briefly raised a hand into the air, like an orator addressing an invisible gathering. "Then God sent a raven which scratched in the ground, that He might show him how to hide the corpse of his brother. He said, 'Woe is me! Am I not able to be even like this raven so that I may hide the corpse of my brother?' And then he became remorseful." The silence that fell after those words seemed unbelievably long, though it couldn't have lasted more than a few seconds. Jr. found himself staring at floor, unable to meet his twin's gaze. "Well then, Rubedo. You'd have to excuse me, but I won't remain a hidden corpse just for the sake of your conscience. There are still a few things for me to do, before I allow myself the luxury of eternal rest."
Jr. remained uncharacteristically silent, his hands clenched into fists, eyes still fixed on the ground. He was at a loss for words, almost to the point of suffocating. Or howling in frustration. Or both. Hell, he would have probably felt more comfortable if the whole church suddenly decided to collapse onto his head. Yes, that would have been a definite relief from having to face his twin, who, just for once in his life, was perfectly justified in his accusations.
He thought of a dozen things he could possibly say, from 'I'm so goddamn sorry!' to 'You moron, you brought it upon yourself!', but none of these things seemed enough. Nothing he might say right now was capable of expressing his tangled emotions. And besides, Albedo would neither understand nor believe him. He never did.
The boy swallowed and unclenched his fists. "Albedo, I…"
There was another pause.
"Yes, yes," the man spoke for him once again, first traces of weariness finally finding their way into his voice. "I know. You really are sorry, and even on the verge of admitting it, I can see it now. We both know you should suffer for what you've done, my traitorous other half. Although… ultimately, your apology won't change a thing, just like Cain's regret didn't shield him from heavenly wrath, nor did it bring his brother back to life. So don't bother telling me the obvious." He paused. "And if it makes you feel any better, then… I, too, am sorry." Shocked, Jr. looked up at last, only to meet a pair of expressionless eyes. "There, I said it. Just don't delude yourself, Rubedo. It doesn't make me hate you any less than I already do."
The boy let out a breath he had been holding for too long, ever since Albedo had begun his seemingly dispassionate monologue. I, too, am sorry – these weren't the words he would have liked to hear the most—in the end, his twin had spoken of hatred, not forgiveness—but even so, they were more than he had hoped for. Albedo had offered him his apology, and sort of accepted Jr.'s own. It was enough to fill the boy with a sense of relief, regardless of the overwhelming amount of guilt that remained buried in his chest.
He smiled, and it was a genuine smile, albeit a tiny, fleeting one. "I see. I guess it can't be helped. You're right, our past will remain the same, no matter how many different words we use to analyze it."
"Yes," Albedo snorted in reply. "And that's why I came here to talk about the present. Or the future, if you prefer. Do you realize, Rubedo, that our universe has just reached its culminating point, the very peek of its momentum? There are but a few people capable of pushing it in a chosen direction, but it will take only one push to send it tumbling down."
Jr. groaned. "Could you please try to sound less vague and poetic?"
"I could—if you just shut up and let me speak. In case you can't figure it out by yourself, you little idiot, I've just told you that the universe is in danger. And by 'the universe', I don't only mean you, your miserable friends, or even a few star clusters. I'm talking about our entire dimension."
The redhead took a deep breath as the new piece of information finally began to sink in. "Fine, I get it! I'm just surprised this is what you really wanted to talk about. Since when do you give a damn about the fate of the universe?"
"That's right, I don't." Albedo let out a hollow laugh. "It might fall apart before my very eyes, and I couldn't care less. But still," he grinned, "I'm not going to merely sit back and watch as something equally significant happens to our world. Why, I have enough power to be one of the men pushing it!"
"Albedo!" Jr. reeled back in shock, fear and sudden recognition. "Don't tell me you're gonna do something stupid again!"
"Spare me your self-righteous hostility, leave it for a time when it's really needed." The younger man shrugged his arms, though there was some dark humor ringing in his voice. "Tsk, tsk, your superficial judgment hurts me so. Did you honestly think I brought you here for the sole purpose of boasting about something I did, or was planning to do?"
"That'd be very much like you, yeah," Jr. shot back at him, unamused by the sarcasm. Albedo dismissed the angry outburst with another chuckle.
"This time, you'll have to look for the culprit elsewhere. But do not fear, Rubedo. Coincidentally, I'm willing to give you some information, a hint that will tell you where to begin your search." Purple eyes narrowed as the man threw his older brother a half-mocking look. "I have a feeling that you won't be able to resist joining the game, not if the stakes are so high."
Jr. had never been a very self-composed person, and right now his patience was hanging by an understandably thin thread. Why did talking to this guy always have to be so damn exhausting, even if they were no longer discussing personal issues? Couldn't his crazed twin be a little more like Gaignun, for a change: crisp, precise and to the point?
"It doesn't sound like a game at all, Albedo," he spat at last, taking a step forward. "What exactly are you talking about? Why are you even helping me?" He paused. "That is, assuming you're really going to help me, instead of trying to pull me into some twisted scheme of yours."
"You think I'm hiding a nasty trick up my sleeve?" The corners of Albedo's lips rose to form a wicked smile. "No, it's a perfectly selfless offer on my part, I assure you." He laughed, "Why, you are my dear half-heart, after all! It's only natural I'd wish to help you."
"Cut the crap, Albedo!" Jr. bristled noticeably. "Just tell me already, what's in it for you?"
Albedo hesitated, or at least pretended to be hesitating. Maybe he was just taking a breath before another one of his long-winded speeches, Jr. thought irritably, as he watched the man's grin fade. He tried to brace himself for a load of nasty revelations, not only the unspecified information his twin had promised him, but also for the price he would name. Because there was going to be a price, he knew. The time when Albedo would do anything for him—and vice versa, right?—without asking for a single favor in return was long over. Inevitably, they had both become egoistical bastards who would aim for their goals at any cost, as different as those goals had turned out to be.
A soft swoosh of Albedo's cape pulled the boy out of his thoughts; he looked up, meeting his counterpart's eyes.
"It's all quite simple," the man said at last, in a fake, dispassionate tone. "No thanks to you, Rubedo, I finally managed to get rid of U-DO and my immortal body. Then I became the White Testament, the Weaver of the Eternal Circle of Zarathustra. It was my choice, you see, yet not my doing. I was given powers beyond any human's wildest imagination, but absolute freedom did not come with it. And to put it in crude terms—it has recently begun to piss me off. You and I, we both know how it feels to be someone else's tool. I'm sick of following orders of a man who deems himself a self-proclaimed god, no matter how godly he might be in reality." He paused and shook his head. Jr. didn't even try to interrupt, aware that Albedo hadn't told him all these things just for the sake of complaining. He didn't have to wait long, as his twin finally explained, "That man, Rubedo, will soon become your enemy. Not in the sense that he will come specifically after you, but rather, the very nature of his actions will make him an enemy of humanity, and you'll find yourself fighting him, because you're foolish enough to play the hero under such circumstances."
Just this once, Jr. managed to act like the self-composed strategist he had been meant to be, not the impulsive brat he actually was. He stood perfectly still, unmoved by the final, mocking remark. "So basically, you're saying we'll be both going after the same person, each of us for a different reason." …And that, as omnipotent as you are now, you can't defeat this person on your own, he thought, yet didn't say out loud, for the sake of avoiding a new argument. Which most probably means, neither can I.
"That's right."
"Great." He ran a hand through his crimson hair. "Well then. Who is he?"
Whether Albedo had ever intended to give him a straight answer to his question, or if he had perhaps wanted to torment him first with a few ambiguous statements, was bound to remain a mystery—because the moment the younger man opened his mouth to speak, the air around them rippled, and then imploded.
Jr. swore.
For an ordinary human, three people materializing suddenly yet noiselessly inside the church would have been almost undetectable, that is, of course, unless you knew where to look. For a U.R.T.V., however, the teleporting intruders were being as loud as if they had just used some explosives to burst in through the roof. The change in the surrounding aura was impossible to miss—especially considering who or what these people were, and the sheer amount of power they radiated.
Before the boy could blink and curse again, the abandoned church had become uncomfortably crowded. Two masked Testaments, clad in blue and red robes respectively, stood between him and the entrance, blocking his single escape route. The third man, a black one, was perched on a narrow ledge that ran high above the altar, right under the stained-glass window. Voyager, Ziggy had once called him, if Jr. remembered correctly, not that the man's name mattered much to him. He had more important things to worry about, as the situation quickly began to sink in.
The first assumption that ran through his mind read, Albedo has betrayed me, and it was accompanied by a stab of bitter disappointment. His twin must have picked up on that thought, because he whirled around to glare at him, and Jr. was surprised to see genuine anger in his eyes—anger that was directed mostly at the intruders. That, in itself, was also quite alarming.
"The hell…?" the boy growled, drawing his guns and snapping his attention back to the Testaments by the entrance. "I guess this wasn't part of your plan, huh?"
"Yes, you can say that," Albedo hissed quietly, turning around to face the masked figure above the altar. In a louder voice, he addressed the Black Testament, "If you'd mind, we were just having a nice, private chat here! I don't remember inviting any of you!"
Jr., who had somehow found himself standing back to back with his brother, didn't move an inch, unwilling to take his eyes of the men blocking the doorway. "Them coworkers of yours?"
"Sort of."
"Friends?"
"Not really."
Just then, their 'nice chat', as Albedo had called it, was interrupted by the Black Testament. "It seemed that he was right," the dark figure spoke, his voice saturated with mild contempt. "You are a traitor, after all."
That settles it, Jr. thought. The man couldn't have been more straightforward.
There was a brief pause, but then Albedo threw his head back and laughed, in a way that caused the older U.R.T.V. to cringe and tense even further. It was the kind of laughter that cut you to the bone, made you wish you were deaf instead. It reminded Jr. of everything his brother had used to be only a few months ago.
"So?" Albedo drawled. "What are you going to do about it?"
"We're sorry," the figure in red answered in a calm tone, managing to sound anything but apologetic, "but we cannot allow this to continue."
Jr. clenched his teeth and wished he had at least some idea about what the hell was going on here. The Testaments were bad news, that much he could tell right away. These guys had a nasty habit of showing up in the least appropriate moments and places, and seeing their masked faces usually meant lots of trouble. It didn't help that Albedo was now one of them—if anything, it only made matters worse, though Jr. wasn't sure which one of the two evils he would have preferred: his twin acting all friendly with these freaks, or the way he appeared now, stiff, hostile and ready for battle. Neither of these scenarios struck Jr. as very promising. Not to mention, the tension in the air was getting almost palpable.
"Care to tell me what this party's all about?" he snapped at no one in particular. He was willing to force the answer out of anyone, when the Black Testament broke the silence.
"Rubedo Yuriev," the man said coldly, dragging out every single syllable of the name. Swallowing a particularly nasty curse, Jr. turned his head to stare up at the silhouette by the stained glass. "You're not the man we're after. Stay out of this and we'll let you go."
"Like hell I will!" Jr. snarled, aiming one of his guns at the Black's face. "If you have business with him, you have business with me, as well!"
He felt a faint ripple of surprise coming from his twin, but he didn't pause to consider his own actions. Given the circumstances, the difference between ally and enemy was obvious. Did these people really expect him to stand back and watch as they threatened, and then attacked Albedo? He would sooner fight them all than have any of them lay a finger on his brother.
Listen to him and stay out of this, Rubedo – the man's voice was swollen with irritation. I don't need you meddling in my affairs like that.
You won't tell me what to do, Jr. shot back at once, without taking his eyes of the Black's face.
The dark figure above the altar didn't even stir. "It's quite ironic that you would try to defend the person you killed only a few months ago."
"Shut up!" He almost pulled the trigger, enraged at the sudden stab of guilt that hit him with those words.
"But then again," the man went on, "I'm not too surprised. It must be true what they say, that blood is thicker than water."
Upset and angry, Jr. didn't have enough time to think of a suitable reply. Before he could even open his mouth, one of the remaining Testaments spoke somewhere behind his back, "Voyager, we don't have time for this. I'll distract the boy, you two take care of the traitor."
"You're all free to try," Albedo said, his lips stretching into a thin, frighteningly unpleasant smile.
Jr. exhaled and looked up to catch his twin's gaze. No words or thoughts were passed between them, none seemed necessary. It might have been a forced, temporary truce, based on common sense rather than sentiments, but it still counted as one. Unfortunately, Jr. wasn't given the opportunity to rejoice, because the three Testaments attacked only a few seconds later—and from that point on everything became a blur.
He jumped to the side, barely in time to avoid being hit by a powerful energy wave. It crashed against the floor, sending shrapnel-like chips of marble shooting into the air. He cursed and rolled behind the nearest pew. With the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the Black, falling down from the ceiling like a giant hawk, straight at Albedo. His twin didn't just stand there; he was already lunging forward, surrounded by a glow of ultraviolet aura. Jr. knew he had to leave them both alone and start worrying about his own butt. Preferably now. Climbing to his feet, he whirled around to see the Blue only a few meters in front of him, ready to strike again. It took all his genetically improved reflexes to dodge the blow at such a close range.
The Testament clearly had the upper hand in this battle, even more so than the last time Jr. had fought him. Back then, he could have at least counted on his friends' support, but today he was completely on his own: a pair of guns against a much larger, much faster, not to mention much more powerful enemy. And it was hard to concentrate knowing that Albedo had to deal with two such opponents, who were currently wreaking havoc on the other side of the church, trying to strike their pray down. It wasn't as if Jr. didn't trust in his brother's abilities, and yet he couldn't help but worry. He had a bad feeling about all this and it grew worse with every passing second.
His aim was nearly perfect, but the bullets had almost no effect on the masked figure. They kept the enemy at bay and provided enough distraction for Jr. to evade the attacks, nothing more. The Blue Testament seemed untouchable. The boy clenched his teeth, it was ridiculous. A lost battle from the start, by the look of things. He felt helpless, and this in turn made him furious. It wasn't fair. It could have been as well his first opportunity in the past fifteen years to really talk to Albedo, and these guys had had to ruin it all.
His enemy launched another beam of energy. Distracted as he was, Jr. reacted a bit too slowly; in fact, he had absolutely no chance to dodge. His own powers neutralized the impact, deflected the majority of the blow, and yet the discharge was so strong that it threw him back at the nearest pillar. He cried out in pain as his spine hit the hard stone, and then slowly sank to his knees, temporarily unable to move. The corners of his vision were frayed in a vibrant red hue—it had been the Red Dragon that had saved him from being incinerated in the blast, or from breaking his bones only a moment ago.
The Testament kept approaching. Slowly, obviously not in a hurry to finish him off. Son of a bitch, Jr. thought, half-heartedly fighting against the rage already building inside of him. It seemed painfully true that the Testaments had no intention of killing both U.R.T.V.s today, otherwise things would have been much more hectic from the start. They wanted only Albedo's head—and perhaps they were going to get it. Even if the Red Testament looked nowhere near as dangerous as his black counterpart, two against one hardly counted as equal odds.
Jr. clenched his hands tightly around his guns. His own issues with Albedo aside, he couldn't let these bastards win. He wouldn't let them win, no mater what. The Dragon was already awake, anyway. He hated to rely on this part of him that was far from human, hated this growing inability to stay in control, but he had no other choice.
He reached out with his mind. Albedo.
Not now, came the instant answer. Jr. felt a flash of his twin's emotions, and it only assured him that his decision was right, fueling the adrenaline running through his own veins. He forcefully kept their frail link open, diving deeper into the other's mind, even though he knew it could become a deadly distraction for his brother.
Don't shut me off yet. I need to borrow some of your power.
It wasn't exactly about borrowing anything, the younger man must have realized it, too. Rubedo? His sharp voice sounded almost startled under a thick layer of anger. Don't be absurd. What do you want to do?
There was a brief pause. …I'm sorry. Jr. closed his eyes—and pulled with all his might.
He felt his twin's power wash over him like a violent waterfall. He would have fallen down to his knees if he hadn't been crouching already. The sensation was both painful and euphoric, and the more he drank, the more intoxicated he became. Was this the ecstasy Albedo had experienced when he had linked with U-DO…? Jr. shivered in pleasure, savoring the sense of completeness, of absolute control. The second half was a part of him again, and he loved every moment of it, because this was right—he needed to take what was his and kill those who would dare to stand in his way–
Albedo wordlessly collapsed to the ground. His two opponents surrounded him at once, but none of them used this opportunity to strike the final blow. They must have felt the shift in the other U.R.T.V.'s aura, and it was enough to make them hesitate.
Jr. was vaguely aware of his twin's pain, but he found himself beyond caring, too intoxicated with power and bloodlust to think straight. His body had become lighter and the ground was suddenly swept away; he felt as if he was floating and falling down at the same time. He kept his eyes shut against the dazzling red light, so he didn't really know what was happening. He could only guess. There was this odd tugging at his limbs, a feeling of something being ripped or twisted. It didn't hurt, and yet he choked. Before he could truly panic or snap out of his daze, though, it was already over.
Rubedo's feet touched the marble floor at last, the two edges of his black trenchcoat billowing behind him like a pair of demon wings. A few moments later the final ripple of power died down, and the U.R.T.V. opened his eyes, no longer framed by a childish face.
Where there had been a little boy only a minute ago, now stood a grown-up man with crimson hair and blue irises. He looked like an almost perfect, less faded copy of his younger twin—he had exactly the same lean frame, elongated face, well-defined cheekbones, thick eyebrows. He actually resembled the dangerous madman Albedo had once been much more than his former, childish self—face twisted in anger, his whole posture radiating threat and hostility. Still wrapped up in the wispy red aura, he really looked like a dragon ready to strike.
From their place on the opposite side of the church, the white-haired U.R.T.V. and the two other Testaments stared at him with unreadable eyes. Rubedo didn't bother searching his twin's mind. His gaze swept briefly over the cloaked men, and then switched back to his previous opponent. Albedo had been right—he was a weapon. Right now, all of his conscious thoughts and emotions were rapidly fading into the background, suppressed by an overwhelming desire to annihilate everyone and everything. He could almost feel his blood boil, and he found the sensation absolutely thrilling. Of course, some part of his brain registered the whole situation as totally absurd. His rapid growth had been nothing short of unnerving, and with his body suddenly pushed forward in time, he did feel a bit unsteady on his own legs.
Still, none of that really mattered. He could fight and kill just fine.
The Black Testament was the first one to break the silence. "So this is what we were warned against," he spoke in the same contemptuous voice as before. "The dragon's possible awakening. It might complicate the future events by the slightest of margins."
"Perhaps," the man in red agreed with a small shrug. "Just what shall we do about it, here and now? We were told to leave the boy alone for the time being, yet, by the look of things, we might be forced to kill him in a few minutes. I wonder if that would be acceptable."
"So you suggest we retreat and ask for new instructions?" the Blue Testament snorted. He was still standing close to the oldest U.R.T.V., neither attacking nor backing away. His curiosity, disregard, indecision, or whatever it was that kept him there, turned out to be a mistake. "And in the meantime, we let the traitor tell him everything?"
Rubedo was simply past listening at that point.
"You're not going anywhere!"
The furious shout could barely count as a proper warning, because a split second later the younger man was already inches away from his enemy's masked face. Inhumanly fast or not, the surprised Testament had nearly no time to react. He was thrown back in a burst of blinding aura, flew through the air like a weightless rag doll, and finally hit the floor a good eighty feet away from his would-be victim. Rubedo didn't stop at that. Before the cloaked man could pick himself off the ground, he was hurled into the air yet again, almost as if he had been caught by an invisible hurricane. A moment later he crashed into a row of pews on the opposite side of the church, shattering them completely.
This time, Rubedo hadn't even moved an inch. The antique guns he had once received from Gaignun lay discarded somewhere behind his back, useless when compared to the power of his mind. His face twisted into an unpleasant scowl, he watched the Testament climb back to his feet. It was going to be a long fight. And he would enjoy every second of it.
The man slowly dusted himself off. His movements seemed a bit stiffer than before. A normal person would have been most likely dead at this point, or at least unconscious, bleeding internally from a few broken ribs, and yet, of course, such trivial things as gravity or the laws of nature didn't apply to the Testaments.
"You'll pay for that, U.R.T.V." The man's expression remained hidden behind the blue mask, but his voice was filled with cold fury.
The corners of Rubedo's lips rose. "Go ahead. See if you can even touch me."
"That's enough!" Voyager's voice cut in, equally cold, but also demanding at the same time. "We leave. Now." It sounded like an order directed straight at his blue counterpart, and unsurprisingly enough, it was met with resistance.
"Not until I kill him."
"You heard me," the Black repeated, each word dripping with force. "If you stay here, you will be breaking your orders. Just give it up for now. You'll probably get your chance at revenge soon enough."
"He's right," the man in the red cloak agreed dispassionately. "Before our next move is decided, we need to adjust to the new course of events." As soon as these words were spoken, he vanished into thin air, only to be followed by the Black Testament a mere second later.
"Stay where you are!" Rubedo snarled, lunging himself towards his last remaining opponent.
He was too late. The Blue Testament had already made up his mind, and he must have decided that sticking to his orders was a better option. "We'll settle this later," he spat, disappearing before the first blow could reach him. The crimson energy wave hit the broken pews instead, smashing them into tiny pieces. And Rubedo howled.
Blinded by overwhelming rage and bloodlust, yet unable to pursue his enemies, he threw his head back and screamed, the red aura exploding all around him, crashing against everything it found in its way. The remaining pews started to snap along with that scream, splinters of artificial wood flying in every possible direction. Long cracks appeared on the nearest columns, even the floor started to break and cave in. And yet, the man who stood at the center of this pandemonium could see none of it, too far lost in his self-triggered madness.
Stop, you idiot!
It was only that sudden, desperately strong blow to his mind that threw him off balance. The chaotic pattern of his thoughts broke and he stumbled forward, opening his eyes wider, yet still unable to grasp what the hell was happening.
Snap out of it, already! You imbecile! Keep it up and you'll get yourself killed by making this damn roof collapse on your head!
And just then, between one heartbeat and another, Rubedo finally realized what was wrong.
A-Albedo…?
The scream died on his lips and he blinked, catching his balance before he could fall flat on his face. The wisps of his red aura were already fading, until there was no trace of them left. He could still taste the ashes of his rage at the back of his throat, but the sensation was growing weaker and weaker, before it also disappeared. Half-standing, half-crouching, Rubedo stared at the remains of the floor that didn't even deserve its name anymore.
He felt as if he had just awoken from a deep trance, which probably wasn't too far from the truth. He could easily recall what he had been thinking only a few moments ago, and yet back then, he knew, his mind hadn't been nowhere near as clear as it was now. It was an experience he would rather not remember, let alone repeat. But he was fine now, wasn't he? Once again in control of himself, remembering his name, his past, friends and purpose…
Taking a deep, shaking breath, he straightened himself up. And then, suddenly, he became aware of pain—not his own.
"Albedo!"
He whirled around, only to find his twin half-buried under a thin layer of debris and dust. The white-haired U.R.T.V. was pale as ever, and yet he looked fine enough for an immortal—with the usual scowl on his face and all. The pain Rubedo felt from him was not strictly physical, anyway.
"Look at what you've done," the man spat weakly, rolling his eyes at him, and the redhead suddenly realized that yes, he was standing in the middle of a crater. He groaned, whereas his brother went on with a sigh, "Pathetic. A complete overkill on your part, but you didn't even manage to kill anyone."
Rubedo didn't say anything. It was his fault, he knew, that Albedo felt so mentally exhausted right now. First, he had practically drained half of his twin's energy, and then, only a few moments later, the younger man had had to break through his mental defenses to reach his mind when the Red Dragon had gone off. It must have hurt him, too. No wonder Albedo hadn't found the strength—or the will—to stand up yet.
Oddly enough, all this knowledge didn't make him feel guilty. Quite the contrary.
"Well, what do you know?" he said at last, and there was the ever-present anger in his voice—and a smile in his eyes. He began to make his way towards the place where the other U.R.T.V. sat, careful not to trip on the rubble. Walking was suddenly an awkward, challenging activity, but he decided he would deal with his new body in a few seconds, not right now. "An overkill, maybe, but I had to do something to save your miserable ass." He stopped. "I swear it, you're more trouble than you're worth."
Albedo glared up at him, smirking. "Funny, how I could say exactly the same thing about you."
Rubedo sighed. And then he extended his tattooed hand.
Author's Notes: Keeping them both in the same room and in character when they're not busy killing each other is rather difficult, I tell you. Oh, well. I'm not too sure about the final result, but I tried.
I just hope I've inspired at least one person to write a new Jr./Albedo fic. :)
And before you leave: reviews, such as fangirlish squeals or constructive criticism are very much welcome!