[Guilty Gear] Unlawful Appropriation, Part 2
Title: Unlawful Appropriation
Fandom: Guilty Gear Overture
Pairing/Characters: Sol/Ky, Sin
Part: 2/3
Rating: PG-15
Warning: AU, humor
Disclaimer: If I owned Overture, the entire thing would've made a bit more sense. XD
Notes: I am cheerfully ignoring anything in Overture that doesn't make sense for the purposes of this story. Yeah, that's a lot, I know. I've also not taken into account anything Ishiwatari might have come up with before his first cup of coffee to say in an interview. That rarely helps, anyway. XD I owe a lot to hours of fun conversation with twigcollins.
Part I | Part II | Part III
Unlawful Appropriation
Part II
The mist rising from the southern forests, he had been told, was a phenomenon that could be observed throughout the year, lending the entire stretch of woodland a mystical, almost eerie quality. It was wafting gently through the air, randomly growing thicker and thinner, and curling low on the ground, making it treacherous to walk.
"Your Majesty, please be careful, it's-"
"I'll be fine. Lead the way."
"Yes, Your Highness."
It was a shame that he had to come here under these circumstances; the forest was beautiful. Sin had begged to come along, and had resorted to pouting when Ky had remained firm. There was no way he was bringing a child to witness the extent of human cruelty.
"How long?" he asked his guide, a member of the nearby town's council.
"A week at most, Your Highness," the young man said. "One of the forest rangers came across it on a routine inspection two days ago. We sent word immediately after that."
Ky nodded, and the man went on, visibly uneasy, "We didn't touch anything-left everything exactly as we found it. Even though... the body..."
"You've done the right thing." It didn't seem right to deny the dead their rest, but he needed to see everything with his own eyes.
"The villagers are sticking together. We've tried to question them, but..." He swallowed. "They're good people, Your Highness, hard workers, I don't understand how..."
Ky simply shook his head. He understood, to a degree. Nobody who had survived the Crusades had come out unscarred.
"It's up ahead now, Your Highness," the guide said, but it was not really necessary. He could tell by the smell.
Quickening his step, he left the man behind and approached what appeared to be a rickety fence, half hidden by the underbrush. A black cloud of flies lifted at his approach, and he was forced to cover his mouth at the stench.
The creature had been cut open and left to bleed dry from the injuries of countless weapons, nailed to the ground by its arms and legs in a grotesque travesty of crucifixion. The perpetual moistness of the air kept the blood fresh on the ground, staining the leaves and moss in puddles. It had been a lizard type, barely taller than a human child, the remains of a robe of bird feathers sticking to its scaly body.
Beyond the circle of blood stood a dome of twigs and leaves serving as shelter, a simple nest for a bed, nuts and fruit piled in a corner, and…
Ky stepped closer and picked up one of the pieces, carefully turning it over in his hands. The creature had been carving, an array of tiny animals cut from pieces of wood-squirrels, birds, deer...
He placed the figurine back on the ground, clenching his fists.
Intelligent. It had been intelligent, perhaps it had even been able to speak, to plead for its life as they had tortured it to death.
Ky had seen enough. There would be things he needed to do, the least of which was to arrange a proper burial, but for now... he stepped to the Gear's side, unmindful of the blood staining his boots, and pulled the crude pegs from its hands and feet, before bowing his head in silent prayer.
--
There were few people who were stupid enough to bother him when he was drinking-one would have thought the general aura of "fuck off or I'll feed you your teeth" would deter anyone, but there were always a few who wouldn't get the hint.
Or maybe they did, and were just too damn dedicated to their jobs or too dependent on their paychecks to let it go.
He wondered which it was with this one, though it seemed from the way the boy was sweating and twisting his hands nervously, his eyes darting around looking for escape routes, that he was reconsidering his priorities.
Maybe he should speak up, Sol thought, before the kid had an accident in his pants. "Yeah?"
"I. Um. M-Mr. Badguy?"
"Who wants to know that."
Was the kid hyperventilating?
"Ah. I. I h-have this delivery for you. And. Um." He thrust said delivery out to Sol, looking like he was expecting to be beaten into a pulp for it.
Sol blinked at the proffered item. Well. That was certainly… new.
"I know nothing!" the boy squeaked, and took off running before Sol could say anything further.
--
"You're getting more creative with cryptic messages, I see."
Ky looked up from his work, stacks of forms piled high on both sides of his desk, leaving only a small free square at the center. It reminded Sol of the old days, although the desk back then had been a far less impressive construction. He could recognize that glazed look in his eyes that came from staring at too much paperwork-Ky had liked to joke (once he'd actually realized it wasn't a crime) that it was sometimes hard to remember that he was supposed to be fighting Justice, not bureaucracy.
Sol crossed the room, wagging the single blue rose at him. "Unnerved the heck out of the delivery kid, though."
"I think that's entirely due to the recipient and not the flower," Ky said.
"A combination of both, I'd say. What's it for, anyway? Some new way of promising death? Or is it just 'get home now or I'm gonna beat your ass'?"
"Stupid." Ky rolled his eyes.
The moment of humor faded away, Ky completing the last signature with a flourish. He took an envelope from a stack of blank ones and began folding up the letter in the sort of anal-retentive fashion one would expect from an origami artist. Sol watched, and when nothing else was forthcoming, he finally decided to prompt him. Ky wanted something, that much was obvious, and there was nothing he disliked more than needing another person's help.
"So?"
Sealing the letter and stacking it in his overflowing outbox, Ky drew a deep breath. "There's been a… development."
Sol frowned. "Cut the beautification talk, boyscout, I'm not one of those bootlickers."
"Alright. There's a problem," Ky amended, his mouth curling slightly. "You're well aware that there have been sightings of several sentient Gears over the past few years. I've been… conducting my own investigations, of course."
His brows knit slightly, obviously unhappy with being forced to keep a being with a human level of awareness and intellect under surveillance. The cynic in Sol wanted to snort at that. Only Ky would have moral qualms about tracking the creatures that had nearly wiped the Earth clean not so long ago. He himself barely trusted Dizzy as far as he could throw her, and she was perhaps the most un-Gearish Gear on the planet.
"A sentient Gear... was killed near the southwestern border. I have reason to believe that it was peaceful and did nothing to provoke an attack. But that's not all. Some hardliners have gotten wind of this. They're trying to push me into making the intelligence public," Ky was saying. "They want to reveal to Illyuria, no, the world, who these Gears are and where they can be found."
Well, shit.
As little love as he had for the rest of his own kind, and as much as a bunch of sentient bioweapons traipsing around freely didn't sit well with him, he knew what publishing such a list meant. Mass panic among the populace, and a witch-hunt of epic proportions.
His eyes never leaving Sol's face, Ky nodded. "I won't let that happen, of course. I'll destroy the information before it can fall into the wrong hands. This isn't the war, and I refuse to let it become like that again. I didn't take this job so people would end up living in fear and innocents would die."
"But that's not why you called me here."
He knew, of course, what Ky was going to say, could tell from his softening expression what this was all about. "Sin."
Ky drew a deep breath, searching for the right words.
"I… can't keep him here. Not with the situation as it is. I'll do everything to keep it from going out of control, but there is no telling what will happen if one of them… notices." He paused. "He's been growing so fast. So far, the palace has been a safe place. Here, I can select who gets close to him. Who is trustworthy. And it's the same thing all over again, they trust me because…"
Because they thought him to work miracles, so he was allowed certain eccentricities. It was ironic, Sol thought, how little things had changed from the war.
"We expected this to happen, though."
"Of course." Ky bit his lip. "Of course. I just hoped… he'd be a little older by then. A little more…" He trailed off. "I don't even want to imagine what happens if somebody lets something slip. Just says something to the wrong people at the wrong time. They'd pounce on him like bloodhounds, now that that's cropped up."
"So, you want me to…"
A slight smile. "He's been asking to go outside, recently. And I can't blame him. The palace only offers so many places to explore… or trash. I don't want to cage him. But…"
"You'd need somebody who isn't in the spotlight to do this."
"I'm thinking it's time you live up to your responsibilities. He is partly yours, after all." Ky didn't add, "and it shows", but that came across, anyway.
As before, the bout of teasing was short-lived, Ky's eyes darkening again at the thought of things to come.
"You don't have to stay here, you know. I'm a wanted criminal anyway, who's to say I'm above kidnapping the king?" It was an unfair offer, a selfish one, and Sol knew that even as he made it. Ky would never lightly take the decision to leave his son like that, if he thought there was another way.
"I can't do that, Sol. I can't leave things as they are, allow a government of witch hunters to succeed me. I need to gain control of the situation first. And once it's calmed down, maybe…" Sol followed his gaze to a sheet of paper, which had been folded and unfolded many times, Ky's neat handwriting citing excerpts of laws, and below that…
Unknown Species Protection Act…?
"You're not serious."
"I-"
"You're not serious," Sol repeated, working to keep the growl out of his tone. Of course he would be serious, the foolish, hard-headed boy. Only he would attempt such a form of reconciliation, would try to protect every innocent, even those that were loose cannons.
The fluffy yellow canaries come with teeth, boyscout.
"You're mad. They'd never let you live this down. You might as well paint a fucking target on yourself, if you push for that."
"I-"
"They'd label you the enemy of humanity, and you know it. There's nobody on this planet who hasn't lost somebody in that goddamn war, who hasn't seen what Gears are capable of. If we ever become the sort of thing that's used to scare children into bed, then that'll be an improvement."
"I know that, don't you think?" Ky said, but his voice was quiet.
Sol huffed. "Putting yourself in the line of fire like that is a fucking stupid idea. It wouldn't do any good. If one of us goes haywire, any law out there would be worth crap, anyway. And there's too few of us around for it to really matter."
"It does never not matter."
"Aw, hell. Stop looking like I just kicked your puppy. I'm not telling you anything you don't already know," Sol muttered.
"I do know," Ky sighed, eyes avoiding Sol's. "I know. I just wish the world would let it happen."
Sol stayed silent.
---
Sin thought that going outside was the most awesome plan ever, bouncing up and down on the bed as his father was moving about the room, packing a few things into a simple traveling bag.
Ky found himself smiling at his son's excited chattering in spite of himself, though it made him wonder how much Sin had actually been listening past a certain point.
"And I wanna go on an airship and see the giant rotating bridge and the hom… homo… very big chocolate pudding with the fighting girls and the-"
"The what?!" Ky asked, sure that he had misheard.
"Pa says there's a giant chocolate pudding in that one town with the big shiny dome and girls fight over who gets to eat it. I wanna fight, too! I bet I can eat it!"
"I… am quite sure that's not real chocolate," Ky said, mentally vowing to use the next chance to remind Sol emphatically of what not to talk about in front of Sin. As lost a cause as that was, it would at least give him some satisfaction.
"Awww," Sin said. "But I'm gonna go see the huge scaly Gears and the tiny hopping furry Gears with the sharp claws and the colossal ugly flying Gears with the thousand eyes and I'm gonna draw them all and…"
It would never not be surreal, Ky reflected, to hear a small child babbling enthusiastically about things he'd faced down by the dozen, and which were still giving most of the veterans nightmares. He zipped the bag closed and beckoned Sin with a wave of his hand.
"Let's go. He's waiting."
"Un!"
Sin launched himself off the bed and grabbed his flag from where it was leaning against the wall, dashing to the door. Ky followed, albeit more slowly.
Sol was waiting for them at the exit, trying to make himself seem inconspicuous against the wall, and if Ky hadn't known better, he would have said that Sol was looking a bit uncomfortable.
"Pa!" Sin exclaimed, preparing for a tackle, but Ky placed a hand on his shoulder, holding him back. Sin looked up at him quizzically.
"We won't be able to see each other for a while now, Sin," Ky said, letting the duffel bag slide to the ground and bending down on one knee.
"So, I want you to take good care of yourself. Listen to your father… except when he says bad words. Or tells you that bathing is optional. Or that raw meat is a healthy diet. Or that grunting is a language. Actually… don't listen to him. You're safer that way."
As he was talking, he reached under his collar and tugged the ornate golden cross free, unclasping the chain and fastening it around Sin's neck instead. It looked ridiculous on Sin's small frame, the pendant dangling somewhere in the vicinity of his stomach.
Sin blinked at the gift, and then blinked some more as he was pulled into a tight hug.
"Be good, okay?" Ky murmured.
"Oh-kay," Sin said plaintively, squirming a little when the seconds passed and his father still did not let go.
Chuckling, Ky released him, rising and picking up the bag again. Sin ran ahead to the exit, jumping up and down in impatience as Ky shoved the bag at Sol.
"Don't drag him into seedy bars."
"So un-seedy ones are okay?"
"And don't use him as Gear bait."
"Damn, I was planning on that."
"Stop telling him about naked people wrestling in pudding."
"I didn't say they were naked."
"And for the love of holy, don't ever teach him how to be like you!"
"Aw, love you, too."
Ky glared.
Sol was smirking, leaning in closer. "Don't I get a proper goodbye kiss?"
"I'll show you goodbye," Ky threatened, the air around him crackling with static electricity.
"So prissy," Sol said, before turning around and stalking towards the exit. "C'mon, brat, let's get out of here."
"You got in trouble!" Sin observed, obviously delighting in this fact.
"Heh. Your mom's just being stingy."
"With pudding?" Sin asked.
"Something like that," Sol said, and neatly sidestepped the lightning bolt aimed at his rear.
--
The brat, Sol thought, really hadn't gotten out much.
He had never seen anybody gawk so much at the naked countryside before. Not that the view wasn't nice and all, standing on top of a mountain above a sea of clouds, but Sol had thought that after half a day, the novelty would have worn off.
Then again, Ky hadn't exactly been able to take the brat anywhere, or the media would have been on him in an instant. It was kind of a miracle that the reporters hadn't been having a field day from day one, what with the illustrious Illyurian monarch suddenly acquiring a kid that looked startlingly like him, no woman in sight, and with said kid aging by a year every two months or so. Ky had to have some really loyal castle staff.
"What's that!" Sin pointed at a cluster of fir trees. It had been going on like this for a while, the brat pointing out objects in the landscape and demanding to be told what they were called.
"Tree."
The brat scowled. "What kind!"
Pseudotsuga menziesii, the scientist in him supplied. Grouping…
"...Dunno."
"And that!"
A cluster of tiny yellow flowers, this time, huddled next to a stretch of plain rock.
Tussilago farfara. Typically about four inches in height. Blooms from-
"Flower."
Sin's scowl deepened. "And that!"
Sol squinted at a random cloud floating overhead. Was the brat playing with him?
He glanced at him and caught the gleam in Sin's eye. "Brat."
"Mom always explains stuff to me," Sin said, and damn if he didn't have that reproachful look down to a T.
Sol rolled his eyes. Normally, Ky was there to pull the brat off him when he got too annoying, Ky was the one responsible for the explaining and the teaching and all the other kiddie stuff. Sol got to point and laugh occasionally, make Ky mad, and apply his own internal psychology to keeping the bioweapon components in check.
It wasn't that he minded the brat, not really, it was just that if anybody had told him beforehand that he'd acquire a kid more than 150 years in the future, he'd have laughed and then knocked their teeth in.
But then again, you would have done the same if anybody had told you where you'd end up with the boyscout, and that's coming along swimmingly.
He huffed.
"Item number one, kid. Mom does that, and I do this. Get used to it." He paused. "Number two. That? Is a cloud."
Sin giggled.
Swimmingly.
---
After the initial weirdness, the brat proved to be half as annoying as he'd seemed at first. It helped that he listened for the most part when Sol did have something to say, and asked relevant questions when he wasn't playing word games. Which happened more often than Sol would have liked, but after listening to the brat for a few days, cheerfully stringing along words to create monstrosities such as "Gear-hunter-fee-reception-office-lady-scowl", Sol was convinced that Ky's fear of him teaching the kid how to communicate in monosyllables was entirely unfounded.
It didn't even bother him that much, once it all kind of started blurring together into background noise, and Sin didn't require him to listen to his chatter.
It was fine, really, right until a few weeks in, when Sin started wanting mommy-cuddlies and telling mommy about his adventures and showing mommy his pictures and whyyyyy can't we go see him right now!
Well. That was decidedly not what he needed. Sol frowned and poked at the fire for a bit. "He explained that to you."
Sin shuffled his feet, leaving long tracks in the gravel.
"We can't go, end of story. It's late now, and your mom would kill me if I brought you back there."
"But why."
"He told you," Sol said, mentally cursing the kid's attention span. "It's dangerous."
"But why."
"Because you're a Gear."
"I'm not afraid," Sin said, scowling.
"That's not the point. Your mom's worried."
"But mom is strong!"
Clamping down on the urge to use the 'fist-to-the-head' method, Sol palmed his jacket for the pack of cigarettes. He really wanted a smoke right now, Ky's rules about smoking in front of the kid be damned. He needed to stop being irritated long enough to try and figure out how to best explain politics to a child Gear that had "want"-mode on full blast and was refusing to accept no for an answer.
Remarkably like someone else we know, hm?
There was the mental equivalent of a swat from the other side of his consciousness, but nothing else.
"This isn't something you can smack down with a sword. ...Or a flag," he amended. "Sometimes, the world is more complicated than that. Sucks, but what can you do. I'm afraid you're stuck with me for the time being, kiddo."
After a moment, Sin nodded slowly, turning his gaze to the fire.
Satisfied that the kid seemed to have understood at least that much, Sol finished the cigarette, extinguishing the butt against the ground. They'd have a taxing day tomorrow. Tracking down those dragonfly types was always a pain. And he'd have to sleep with one eye open, too, in case the kid did something foolish like attempting to trek back to mommy all on his own.
Prodding the flames one last time, Sol stretched out on his back, one arm tucked under his head. "Better get some shuteye. I'm not lobbing you around tomorrow if you're tired."
No response.
Turning his head, the kid hadn't moved, hunching his shoulders and still staring in front of himself without really looking at anything. Damn if he hadn't gotten the kicked-puppy-look from the master.
"Aw hell," Sol muttered, flinging out an arm and grabbing the kid by the back of his suspenders. "C'mere."
"Mmph!"
With the kid went the flag, which smacked Sol across the knees as Sin twisted to face him, blinking in surprise.
"I'd hate to explain to your mom why that frown on your face is permanent. I'm seeing the inside of his bedroom little enough as it is."
And damn if that smile wasn't as bright as a 100-Watt Christmas tree, too. Sol rolled his eyes as the kid went about wedging himself in the crook of his arm, dragging the flag over himself as he'd done every night since Sol had picked him up. The heavy cloth flopped onto Sol's chest and promptly slid off again, barely long enough to cover even half of him.
Sin grunted and pushed it back up again, only to be rewarded with the same result.
"Give it up, kiddo. That won't work."
"Hmm. We'll have to get a bigger one," Sin mused.
Resigned to his fate, Sol said nothing.
---
Sometimes, Sol wondered why he had ever agreed with Ky that putting Sin on a leash was a cruel and inhuman thing to do. Then he remembered that not agreeing would have banished him from the bedroom for the next six months, but that still wasn't a good reason why he hadn't bought one as soon as they were out of the castle. Because, damn it, he really, really should have.
It wasn't unusual to lose a child in a crowd, but most children weren't armed and didn't have the attention span of a gnat.
Sol kept hoping that he had just been distracted by something shiny, and since there were a lot of shiny things to be gawked at in the middle of a festival, that didn't exactly limit his search perimeter.
Nobody was screaming bloody murder at the food stalls, which meant that Sin couldn't possibly have gone for the candy booth. Ditto for the game stalls, since Sin did not only have the accuracy to win a lifetime's supply of stuffed animals, but also had the tendency to completely misjudge his own strength. Sol hoped that he hadn't gotten as far as the carnival rides, since he really didn't feel like being a respectable citizen and paying for property damage, never mind explaining to Ky why his son had made it into the local paper. And Ky would find out-he had no doubt that Ky hadn't stopped his habit of checking the bounty records.
"Die, Gear!"
There was a loud crashing noise, and over the top of people's heads, Sol could see a giant parade fixture partially collapsing.
Aw hell.
Elbowing his way through the throng, Sol arrived at the scene of the commotion to find Sin happily bashing away at the papier-mâché skull of a dog-headed creature, its fiercely glaring eyeballs now dislodged to the point of going cross-eyed. Well, at least he hadn't used-
"Ride the lightning!"
-magic yet.
Hell.
Although a far cry from its namesake, the spell jolted through the length of the dragon, leading its hindquarters to collapse, as well. Sol thought he could hear some weak moans from its drooping paper folds. Shit, was that one of those things that actually came with people inside?
"Oi, brat!"
Sin whipped around, his eyes shining with excitement. "Pa! I found a Gear!"
This was punctuated by a sound thwack on the "Gear's" head. Were people staring? They probably were, but Sol had other problems right now.
"That's not a Gear."
"...It's... not?"
"No, it's not." Sol threw back the flap to reveal a half-conscious guy, every hair on his body standing on end, who started screeching when he caught sight of Sin.
"But it was attacking that girl!" Sin pointed to a petite brunette in a parade costume, who was staring at them, wide-eyed.
"Um."
Damn Ky and his stupid ideas of imparting chivalry to his son.
The crowd was partially moving back to the scene of the crime, curious to see what was going on.
The guy was still screeching. People were still staring. Sol could practically see the headlines being typed right in his mind's eye.
"Um," said the girl again. "Perhaps we should get out of here?"
---
Under the girl's direction, they sought cover in an empty Chinese restaurant, where she promptly disappeared. The commotion outside was still ongoing, though, so Sol decided to take advantage of the lack of witnesses and subjected Sin to a prolonged form of the "knuckle-to-the-head" method. Damn if this wouldn't be all over the papers tomorrow.
"Aw, don't hurt him."
Sol looked up from grinding his fist against Sin's thick skull. The girl had changed out of the costume and wiped off the war paint, altering her appearance drastically. Sol thought she seemed familiar somehow, but couldn't quite put his finger on it.
"She's pretty!" Sin said, clearly under the impression that he was stage whispering, and the girl gave a high-pitched giggle.
Oh. Oh, hell.
"What a cute little charmer," Jam Kuradoberi squealed, clapping her hands together.
Just their luck, running into that woman, of all people. He had never met her in person, but the fairly unsubtle letters she had written to Ky when he had still been with the police force, complete with photographs attached, kind of stood out in his memory. Maybe it was the smell. Really, who sent perfumed letters these days?
It had been fun to watch Ky twitch whenever he received a new one, too polite not to answer them. Apparently, she'd gotten a hold of his office number at some point and called a few times, and Sol had been present once or twice to see Ky hastily yanking the receiver away from his ear.
Sin wriggled in his hold, and Sol didn't even need to look to know that the brat was grinning like a loon.
"Don't be so harsh with him," Jam was saying. "He was only trying to protect a lady! That's rare, these days."
Sol barely held back a snort, but by then, his grip had gotten lax enough that Sin managed to slip free.
"You're not hurt, are you, Miss?"
Funny, how the same line could sound so very different when spoken by two different people. It was like having a little version of Ky around, with all of the shiny and none of the restraint or shame. He really ought to have a talk with Ky about this. The brat was still grinning.
"Awww, so cute!" Jam giggled, tousling his hair. "You know... you kind of remind me of somebody. He was cute, too. What's your name?"
"Sin K-"
Sol gave the brat a not-so-subtle whack in the back of his kneecaps, and Sin trailed off into a cough.
"Who'd name such a sweet little boy 'Sin'?"
"Well, he is original," Sol muttered. Was the grin splitting the brat's face yet?
Jam blinked at him, nonplussed.
"It's a codename!" Sin said proudly, which prompted another bout of giggles.
"Tell you what, Sin, I'll fix you something because you rescued me from that evil dragon," she said.
Oh. Oh, wonderful. Way to go and ruin what he had just spent ten minutes imparting to the brat.
"Well, that's nice, but we were leaving," Sol said, giving the brat's suspenders a surreptitious yank. Sin deflated visibly.
"Oh, but where would you go?" Jam asked, putting a finger to her chin. "They're still looking for those who caused the commotion. It's safer if you stay here a while, unless you don't mind paying for all that property damage."
Was it just him, or were her eyes gleaming? Damn the invisible rays of shiny and their heritability. Perhaps he should start teaching the brat about cougars...
"I'm sure my little savior would like some hotpot, wouldn't he?"
Sin was nodding wildly, and Sol would have loved to blame this on the castle maids and their endless cooing over the "little master", but he had been the one to introduce the rule of thumb, "Never pass up a meal. Especially if it's free."
"Alright, then it's settled! Just sit down wherever, and I'll fix up something. Be back in a jiffy!" A wink, and she had disappeared behind the fluttering noren that concealed the entrance to the kitchen.
Sol took the opportunity for another round of knuckle-to-the-head.
"Next time, you listen to me, brat, or I'm gonna roast you. You're still in for an ass-kicking once we get out of here."
When he let go, Sin escaped to the other side of the room, slipping into a chair.
"She said I was cute!" he said, smoothing out his hair and looking thoroughly unrepentant.
"It's a different word for saying you're a precocious moppet," Sol growled, "You're not supposed to be hitting puberty yet."
"You're jealous," Sin said, still grinning.
"Feh," Sol huffed. "Enjoy your insolence while you still can, brat. As soon as we're out of here, I'm buying that leash."
--
There was something distinctly strange about working without interruptions, without a childish weight attempting to swing from his arm in mid-sentence, or having his foot used as leverage for conquering his lap.
It was also strange not to be required to change his clothes at least twice a day because Sin had managed to get paint or marmalade or mud on his hands and thrown his arms around him in a tackle-hug, or not to have a tiny weight jostling him out of his sleep in the middle of the night-it was kind of sad that Sin would be long past that age when they would next see each other.
The silence seemed almost louder than the near-constant noise that had once filled his office, as Sin had grown from running smack-dab into chairs and file cabinets to taking apart office equipment to toppling the heavy bookcase with the almanacs (he had been forbidden from touching the glass cupboard housing the tea cup collection on pain of severe penalties). Privately, Ky had to admit that he sometimes found himself listening for crashes and explosions out of sheer habit, and feeling disappointed when, of course, nothing was forthcoming.
Sin seemed to be having fun, at least, if the enthusiasm ringing from his infrequent but lengthy letters was any indication. Sol had taught him one of the old code systems they had used during the war... as well as convinced him to adopt his almost illegible scrawl. Really, one of the few ways to tell them apart were the constant doodles added in the margins-they even seemed to have developed the inexplicable talent for producing nearly identical stains.
Sometimes, it made him wonder if Sin would even feel comfortable here anymore, when the time came that it was safe for him to visit the castle again.
Visit...
It had a strange ring to it, to think of it as "visiting" instead of "coming home", but Ky had gone over the options long ago and decided that this would be no life for Sin. The thought of his son trapped between the spider webs of intrigue and the stiff formalities of nobility didn't sit well with him. Sin was not the kind of person who would feel comfortable in any such environment once he lacked a child's obliviousness-Ky himself could hardly feel at ease, couldn't quite comprehend how anyone could.
But he had a duty to fulfill, and that was enough. It had to be.
"-Majesty? Your Majesty?"
An aide had cracked open the door, too polite to step inside.
"Ah, my apologies. What is it?"
"The horses are ready, Your Majesty, if you wish..."
Ah, of course. Time to jump in the shark pond, as Sol liked to call it.
Locking the letter in his desk drawer, Ky gathered his papers and headed for the door.
--
Sol couldn't remember the last time he had been to the movies. It had to have been during his early teenage years, before he'd had his all work and no play phase, and after that... there hadn't exactly been time. He would never have agreed to it now, either, except the brat had hit him with the question when he'd still been mostly asleep, and had subjected him to the kicked-puppy face when he tried to pretend he'd forgotten, later. He made sure to grumble about it at length, just so the brat wouldn't start thinking he was easy.
He and Ky had agreed to limit Sin's exposure to anything that would give him very bad ideas, but Sol figured he'd have to start learning to distinguish between reality and fiction sooner or later. How bad could it be, anyway? Nothing a few kicks in the right places wouldn't solve.
The theater came pretty close to being one of those buildings that were technically a safety hazard but tearing them down would cost more than letting the structure collapse on its own. Most of them were like that-those that had survived, anyway-with money for reconstruction still flowing to other places.
The floor was sticky more often than not, the seats were threadbare and had clearly been built for somebody with half his bulk, but whatever. Sin had managed to inhale most of his popcorn by the time the previews rolled around, and Sol figured if he just slept through the stupid, nothing cataclysmic would happen. The brat had had it ground into his head that he was not to attack the screen under any circumstances, and that just about covered the rules for this kind of place. Stretching out as well as he could, Sol closed his eyes, slowly drifting off to the sounds of high-pitched cartoonish chattering and the subsequent over-dramatic opening credits.
And then...
"They made mom a girl," Sin said, consternated.
Wait, what?
Sol sat up straight, shaking the fuzziness from his brain, and blinked at what appeared to be a really nice pair of legs in a short, short skirt.
Sin was equally riveted, though for entirely different reasons. There were monsters on the screen, too, past the really nice pair of legs in the short, short skirt.
"What did you drag us into, brat?"
He hadn't really been listening when Sin had told the cashier what he wanted, which Sol had assumed would be whatever the equivalent of Bugs Bunny was these days, though come to think of it, the lady had looked at them like she had wanted to say something...
"They made a movie about mom! I wanted to see that," Sin said. "But they made him a girl."
On the screen, the camera stopped showing off the really nice legs, panning up the skirt-clad booty, circling to the front to give an extensive view of a pair of boobs divided by a golden cross, and finally focusing on the girl's face.
She had the scowl down perfectly, right down to the way she was sticking out her bottom lip. Lip-gloss, of course, but then again, Sol had teased Ky mercilessly about his toiletry, as he had perhaps been the only person in the entire army to bother bringing a sewing kit and toothbrush along for forays into swamps and other nasty places. Part of the setting an example thing. Or something. The bow on the back of her head was a nice touch, too.
Things started going critical further down, and while the thought of Ky in that getup was pretty hot, no, the female members of the Order would have murdered anyone for suggesting that as the regular dress, and come on, the hooker boots were totally ridiculous. Points deducted for the way she was holding the rapier thing they'd stuck her with, too-anybody could've wrenched the weapon from her hand with a slight twist.
And-oh come on, nobody could be doing somersaults in those heels, and flipping and flopping all over the place like that was just plain stupid. From the looks of it, Sin was already well on his way to incorporating every hilariously over-the-top move into his baton-twirling routine, though, staring at the screen in rapture. Sol scowled, and made a mental note to do a lesson that covered decapitation due to pole-dancing.
The church bell-violin combo suddenly segued into some really bad brass theme, and... was that supposed to be him?
Sin was of the same mind, since he was glancing skeptically between Sol and the Neanderthal reject in the movie, and man, fighting half-naked really wasn't as fun as the films made it seem. Whoever had been in charge of the choreography had clearly used up most of his ideas for the Kylie. No matter what that sword looked like, it was not bludgeon. Why hadn't they just given the guy a stone club?
Whoever had made this had some very screwed up notions about the war, too-that tentacle thing that had currently disarmed the Kylie and was holding her hostage... well, that slime was capable of dissolving you into nice, digestible goo. These things didn't care about molesting people, just about crushing their ribcage. Panty shot. Tentacles going for boobs. Girly screeching. Great. Was this turning into monster hentai?
"Why doesn't she just fry it?" Sin said, staring crossly at the writhing girl.
"Because the script says that he has to save her so they can- uh. So she can show how grateful she is."
"That isn't very nice." Sin was glaring at the guy, who had managed to free the girl and was holding her slung over his shoulder, panty-clad bottom to the camera, of course, and one meaty hand on said bottom.
Well, that was one thing he wouldn't have to be lecturing on, at least.
The movie got two more strikes. One for idiotic speeches, something Sol was sure he'd have to educate the brat on, since few things in the world gave you an opportunity to tell them how great you were and exactly how you were going to defeat them. And while Sin was technically able to survive a whack or two to the head, that would just count as poor performance. The second one was a case of the writers smoking something that was definitely not tobacco-the Kylie conveniently shorting out in the middle of a downpour so she could be rescued yet again.
"That's stupid!" Sin shouted, "Mom can-"
Dragging Sin back into his seat to the angry murmurings of other moviegoers, Sol brought his fist down on his head. "No mentioning who your mom is in public, kiddo."
"Oh. Yeah." Sin scratched his head sheepishly.
Sol wasn't sure how they made it through the rest of the movie. The decisive battle against the villain was a pretty nice lightshow, though whoever had designed the pseudo-Justice had watched one too many space operas, but otherwise, it was a collection of priceless hilarity interspersed with Kylie fanservice. Perhaps he should find a poster of that and send it to Ky, to enjoy the mental image of him blushing and fuming all over the place.
Somebody had thought it'd be more romantic to have Neanderthal-him stick around for victory-booty (and damn it, he should have, though the make-up sex hadn't been bad, either), which turned out to be an epic slobberfest.
Wow, Ky would skewer him if he slipped him the tongue like that. Though that just served to remind him that he hadn't had any opportunities to get skewered in quite some time.
"Ewww. Is he... trying to eat her?"
Oh damn. Brat watching. Sol reached to the left and covered Sin's eye with his hand.
"No word to mom about this, or he'll find ways to kill us both."
--
Most people would likely consider a dinner party a pleasant event.
Ky had always felt nervous and out of his depth whenever he had been forced to attend such gatherings for publicity and fund-raising purposes during the war, which had fortunately not been very often. The snobbish formality and insipid small talk had annoyed him, the way deals and alliances were forged over glasses of Chardonnay and tiny slices of toast topped with perfectly round piles of caviar, safely away from anything resembling reality, where people were dying and fleeing and starving.
It had been at times like these that he could understand Sol's anti-establishmentarianism, at least to a degree.
Little had changed from that time, except the fact that the war had ended. Those in power were still gambling with people's lives over fancy pastries, and as much as Ky would have preferred not to be a part of the entire miserable charade, he knew that he needed to attend in order to be able to make informed decisions.
He had found out early on that the small clusters of gossiping women yielded much more valuable information, the men too busy preening their feathers to reveal much of interest or use. Lady Chevenix-Gore in particular, an imposing woman with a penchant for gaudy jewelry and a brand of humor that could still make him blush brightly in embarrassment, was a veritable wellspring when it came to the comings and goings in high society, especially in high society's bedrooms.
It had mostly been her unsubtle hints about the Archduke's secret preference of the company of goats, of all things, that had finally led to the downfall of the hardliner faction. Without their most prominent spokesman, the rest seemed suddenly a lot less sure about their plans of pushing for a Gear hunting commission that would operate independently from the police force, with full access to any and all personal records.
Ky knew he would have to thank her, later. As for now, he was trying to get rid of the horribly sycophantic character of a certain Duke of Lorion, who clearly had his own agenda and was under the impression that his over-the-top flattery would lull Ky into a false sense of security.
"Most unfortunate, most unfortunate," the duke was saying, his eyes flashing sharply behind his expression of excessive sympathy. "Dear Alfred's presence will be sorely missed, I'm sure."
"Certainly," Ky agreed without missing a beat, pretending he could not see the man's piercing stare.
"After all, he has always had the interests of the populace in mind," the duke prompted, obviously hoping for Ky to disagree.
Interests indeed. He had them so much in mind that he would have loved to know them right down to the tiniest detail, the little voice that sounded suspiciously like Sol muttered in the back of his head.
"It must be very beneficial to Your Majesty, no, to be able to proceed without, ahem, hindrance? Though perhaps some will wonder why Your Highness does not agree that the people must be protected from this... menace?"
"There are many capable bounty hunters in this world, who are more than willing to deal with any threat that arises," Ky said smoothly. "I see no reason to spend tax money on a special unit with a dubious modus operandi when we have a functioning system. One does have to wonder how the surveillance of phone lines ties into identifying and neutralizing Gears-especially since I have never seen one capable of operating a home phone."
"Well, yes of course!" the duke agreed hastily. "I am sure this was all an honest mistake-"
Letting his eyes sweep across the ballroom, Ky tuned out the lengthy cover-up. A ways away, the Lady Chevenix-Gore looked up from her little coterie of eccentric friends and lifted her hand in a beckoning wave, the colorful jewels adorning each of her fingers flashing in the overhead lighting.
Unfortunately, the gesture was hardly discreet, and the duke was never too busy apologizing not to notice these things. "Oho," he chortled, "I see the lady has caught Your Majesty's eye? Well, well, different strokes for different folks, but if I may be frank, she is so very unsuited to Your Majesty's delicate sensibilities."
What?
"She may be a woman of, ahem, grandeur, but she is far from the, uh, freshest around, and if one listens to the right sources, she has some very questionable pastimes. It would be wise for Your Majesty to choose some other... company. In fact, Minister Barton and I have been, ahem, wondering if you would not be interested in getting to know little Rosalind."
What?!
"She has been attending a renowned school in Switzerland and has just come back for the holidays. A sweet little thing with wonderful taste in art and music, a delight to listen to on the piano. Minister Barton has informed me that she would be absolutely enchanted to make Your Majesty's acquai-"
Along the wall, several crystal sconces gave a soft popping noise and exploded into showers of sparks and splinters.
The duke goggled, taking a step back from the tapestry.
"Do excuse me," Ky said, his voice betraying nothing, "It seems Lady Chevenix-Gore has been trying to alert me to a problem with the electricity. I better investigate this at once before we meet with further... accidents."
--
"Mom!"
The last time he had been on the receiving end of a flying tackle-hug, the hugger in question had plowed straight into his legs. Now, the hugger plowed straight into his chest and knocked him flat on the floor, making him grateful for the thick carpeting.
"Hello, Sin," Ky said, smiling and reaching down to pat the tousled head.
Sin stopped attempting to burrow into his chest like a dog, looking up and grinning. "I'm back, mom!"
"I think he can see that, brat," came Sol's amused voice from the door, and there went any chance Ky might have had at retaining his dignity.
"It's good to have you back," he said, still smiling. "But I think I'd appreciate it more if I weren't lying on the floor."
"Oops!" Sin said, hardly apologetic, but agreed to let him get up on the grounds that there would be more hugs. Ky got to his feet, brushing off his robes and engaged in a slightly more proper version of a greeting.
"You've grown," he observed, chuckling when Sin pulled away, puffing out his chest and straightening.
"That's not your accomplishment, that's genetics," Sol said, and Sin turned around to stick his tongue out at him.
"Just you watch it, I'm gonna be taller than you one day, old man."
"'Old man'?" Ky asked, smirking. "I see you've been downgraded. Makes me feel better, seeing how you got him to internalize that infernal mode of address."
"He managed that all on his own. Though the movie where they gave you boobies didn't help."
"That. Thanks for reminding me, I was going to kill you for that."
"Ah, there's the warmfuzzies right there." Sol grinned. "I've been missing those death threats."
"Ew, sap!" Sin complained, making a face. "If you're gonna start like that, I'm going over there. Far, far away."
"Yeah, yeah, shut up and scat. Give me some alone time with your mo-ow."
Ky glared, lightning dancing between his fingertips in silent warning.
"Oh, gross. Parents flirting. I'm gonna be in my room if anyone needs me."
"Nobody needs-ow! You really missed me, huh."
"I better not be hearing you all the way down the corridor!" Sin shouted, dashing out with his hands clapped over his ears in an overly dramatic fashion.
As soon as the door slammed shut, Sol took the time to give him a critical once-over. "You look like death warmed over."
"You're such a flatterer," Ky retorted. He knew there was no hiding it, though-things had been very busy lately. Most of the time, he didn't go to bed before the early hours of the morning, and more often than not, he would be up at the break of dawn, as well.
"No, seriously. How much sleep have you been getting? Saying 'I took a nap three days ago' doesn't count."
"I took a nap today after lunchtime, if you must know."
"On something constructed for napping, or did you just pass out on the desk?"
Ky shrugged. "I've been pulling 29 hour days before."
"Yeah, when none of us could afford to catch a wink of sleep, anyway," Sol said, rolling his eyes.
"Sometimes it's not so different from the war," Ky said ruefully. "Except back then, nobody was trying to marry me off."
Sol stared. "You're not serious."
"I wish I were kidding, actually. It was very embarrassing, especially on-"
"...That's it. I'm getting you out of here."
"I've already taken care of it," Ky said, lifting his hand in a pacifying gesture. The hardest part had been calming down the castle staff, who had seemed just about ready to fetch the pitchforks for causing His Majesty and His Majesty's poor sickly beloved such grief. "The young lady was as embarrassed as I about the whole thing, seeing as we are both rather... spoken for."
"And you think this will get them off your back?" Sol pointed out. "Do you seriously think you can keep saying no if they start lining up a whole harem?"
"That's disgusting. Like choosing an... an accessory."
"Welcome to the world of the aristocracy, where political deals come in the form of wedding rings. If they're really smart, they've already picked a mistress on the side for you, too. You have been pretty boring on that front, so far."
"And here I was under the impression that they'd called me in to save Illyuria from a crisis," Ky sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Heh, I knew I should have bought one of those girly magazines where they devote fifteen-page high-resolution specials to your ass."
Ky stared at him. Half the problem with Sol was that one could never tell what was crazy talk, what he was making up just to be annoying, and what was actually true. "You're joking, right. Please tell me you're joking, why would they…? For that matter, why would anyone...?"
Sol shrugged. "It's a very nice ass. Why do you think I've been following you around so diligently? Better view, that's why."
"I should fry you for that, but I've got a headache."
Returning to his desk, Ky began tidying up the paperwork. The signed request forms went on one stack, the rejected ones wandered into the waist-high pile on the side, the confidential stuff was to be put into sealed envelopes and stored away in the safe, and he really wanted to ignore the flashing display on the answering machine that told him he had managed to accumulate about fifty messages since this morning...
The sudden jolt of pain as five fingers precisely found the worst knots on the back of his neck was almost a relief, momentarily overriding the pounding in his skull.
"How is it," Sol was murmuring close to his ear, "that that pile seems to be growing larger every time I stop by?"
"Perhaps because it is," he replied, trying not to lean into that welcome pressure.
"Funny, and here I thought you were well on your way to fixing this country."
"I am. There's just... so much more to do. I've got the Gear problem mostly under control, but then there is the school system, and agriculture needs financial aid, and first I'll need to push for that tax reform they're all resisting because it's not feeding their own pockets. And after that..."
"I could kill everyone," Sol suggested, fingers working across his shoulders.
"Ask me again when I can actually say no." His voice hitched on the last word, pleasure finally winning out over pain, Sol's chuckle a low reverberation against his temple. Was it just him, or was it getting warmer, a slow heat spreading from his back through his body, making it hard to concentrate.
"Evil."
"I prefer thinking of it as opportunistic," Sol said, thumb digging into the space below his left shoulder blade. "Seeing you squirm is just a nice fringe benefit."
"You suck at sucking up."
"I don't suck at other forms of sucking."
"Oh, that's horrible, really horrible. I should kill you for that."
"Wanna punish me here or in the bedroom?"
Ky shook his head. "Remind me again why I put up with you."
A leer. "Gladly."
----
-TBC-
A/N:
1) This is one thing I'm glad Ishiwatari chose to elaborate on in the artbook. I don't think Ky would ever abandon his own child if he saw another chance.
2) Sin stomping around moping at his daddy in the game is still stupid. Like Ky and Sol wouldn't do their best to make him understand the situation. *eyeroll*
3) Aaaand Jam makes an appearance. XD This was too good an opportunity to pass up.
4) All these fanart sites drawing Ky in a school uniform. They've been put to good use. XD
5) ClichéclichebadflirtingclichéIlovemysapcliché.
Ride on to Part III? >>
<< Return to Guilty Gear Index | Return to Fanfiction Index >>
Fandom: Guilty Gear Overture
Pairing/Characters: Sol/Ky, Sin
Part: 2/3
Rating: PG-15
Warning: AU, humor
Disclaimer: If I owned Overture, the entire thing would've made a bit more sense. XD
Notes: I am cheerfully ignoring anything in Overture that doesn't make sense for the purposes of this story. Yeah, that's a lot, I know. I've also not taken into account anything Ishiwatari might have come up with before his first cup of coffee to say in an interview. That rarely helps, anyway. XD I owe a lot to hours of fun conversation with twigcollins.
Part I | Part II | Part III
Unlawful Appropriation
Part II
The mist rising from the southern forests, he had been told, was a phenomenon that could be observed throughout the year, lending the entire stretch of woodland a mystical, almost eerie quality. It was wafting gently through the air, randomly growing thicker and thinner, and curling low on the ground, making it treacherous to walk.
"Your Majesty, please be careful, it's-"
"I'll be fine. Lead the way."
"Yes, Your Highness."
It was a shame that he had to come here under these circumstances; the forest was beautiful. Sin had begged to come along, and had resorted to pouting when Ky had remained firm. There was no way he was bringing a child to witness the extent of human cruelty.
"How long?" he asked his guide, a member of the nearby town's council.
"A week at most, Your Highness," the young man said. "One of the forest rangers came across it on a routine inspection two days ago. We sent word immediately after that."
Ky nodded, and the man went on, visibly uneasy, "We didn't touch anything-left everything exactly as we found it. Even though... the body..."
"You've done the right thing." It didn't seem right to deny the dead their rest, but he needed to see everything with his own eyes.
"The villagers are sticking together. We've tried to question them, but..." He swallowed. "They're good people, Your Highness, hard workers, I don't understand how..."
Ky simply shook his head. He understood, to a degree. Nobody who had survived the Crusades had come out unscarred.
"It's up ahead now, Your Highness," the guide said, but it was not really necessary. He could tell by the smell.
Quickening his step, he left the man behind and approached what appeared to be a rickety fence, half hidden by the underbrush. A black cloud of flies lifted at his approach, and he was forced to cover his mouth at the stench.
The creature had been cut open and left to bleed dry from the injuries of countless weapons, nailed to the ground by its arms and legs in a grotesque travesty of crucifixion. The perpetual moistness of the air kept the blood fresh on the ground, staining the leaves and moss in puddles. It had been a lizard type, barely taller than a human child, the remains of a robe of bird feathers sticking to its scaly body.
Beyond the circle of blood stood a dome of twigs and leaves serving as shelter, a simple nest for a bed, nuts and fruit piled in a corner, and…
Ky stepped closer and picked up one of the pieces, carefully turning it over in his hands. The creature had been carving, an array of tiny animals cut from pieces of wood-squirrels, birds, deer...
He placed the figurine back on the ground, clenching his fists.
Intelligent. It had been intelligent, perhaps it had even been able to speak, to plead for its life as they had tortured it to death.
Ky had seen enough. There would be things he needed to do, the least of which was to arrange a proper burial, but for now... he stepped to the Gear's side, unmindful of the blood staining his boots, and pulled the crude pegs from its hands and feet, before bowing his head in silent prayer.
--
There were few people who were stupid enough to bother him when he was drinking-one would have thought the general aura of "fuck off or I'll feed you your teeth" would deter anyone, but there were always a few who wouldn't get the hint.
Or maybe they did, and were just too damn dedicated to their jobs or too dependent on their paychecks to let it go.
He wondered which it was with this one, though it seemed from the way the boy was sweating and twisting his hands nervously, his eyes darting around looking for escape routes, that he was reconsidering his priorities.
Maybe he should speak up, Sol thought, before the kid had an accident in his pants. "Yeah?"
"I. Um. M-Mr. Badguy?"
"Who wants to know that."
Was the kid hyperventilating?
"Ah. I. I h-have this delivery for you. And. Um." He thrust said delivery out to Sol, looking like he was expecting to be beaten into a pulp for it.
Sol blinked at the proffered item. Well. That was certainly… new.
"I know nothing!" the boy squeaked, and took off running before Sol could say anything further.
--
"You're getting more creative with cryptic messages, I see."
Ky looked up from his work, stacks of forms piled high on both sides of his desk, leaving only a small free square at the center. It reminded Sol of the old days, although the desk back then had been a far less impressive construction. He could recognize that glazed look in his eyes that came from staring at too much paperwork-Ky had liked to joke (once he'd actually realized it wasn't a crime) that it was sometimes hard to remember that he was supposed to be fighting Justice, not bureaucracy.
Sol crossed the room, wagging the single blue rose at him. "Unnerved the heck out of the delivery kid, though."
"I think that's entirely due to the recipient and not the flower," Ky said.
"A combination of both, I'd say. What's it for, anyway? Some new way of promising death? Or is it just 'get home now or I'm gonna beat your ass'?"
"Stupid." Ky rolled his eyes.
The moment of humor faded away, Ky completing the last signature with a flourish. He took an envelope from a stack of blank ones and began folding up the letter in the sort of anal-retentive fashion one would expect from an origami artist. Sol watched, and when nothing else was forthcoming, he finally decided to prompt him. Ky wanted something, that much was obvious, and there was nothing he disliked more than needing another person's help.
"So?"
Sealing the letter and stacking it in his overflowing outbox, Ky drew a deep breath. "There's been a… development."
Sol frowned. "Cut the beautification talk, boyscout, I'm not one of those bootlickers."
"Alright. There's a problem," Ky amended, his mouth curling slightly. "You're well aware that there have been sightings of several sentient Gears over the past few years. I've been… conducting my own investigations, of course."
His brows knit slightly, obviously unhappy with being forced to keep a being with a human level of awareness and intellect under surveillance. The cynic in Sol wanted to snort at that. Only Ky would have moral qualms about tracking the creatures that had nearly wiped the Earth clean not so long ago. He himself barely trusted Dizzy as far as he could throw her, and she was perhaps the most un-Gearish Gear on the planet.
"A sentient Gear... was killed near the southwestern border. I have reason to believe that it was peaceful and did nothing to provoke an attack. But that's not all. Some hardliners have gotten wind of this. They're trying to push me into making the intelligence public," Ky was saying. "They want to reveal to Illyuria, no, the world, who these Gears are and where they can be found."
Well, shit.
As little love as he had for the rest of his own kind, and as much as a bunch of sentient bioweapons traipsing around freely didn't sit well with him, he knew what publishing such a list meant. Mass panic among the populace, and a witch-hunt of epic proportions.
His eyes never leaving Sol's face, Ky nodded. "I won't let that happen, of course. I'll destroy the information before it can fall into the wrong hands. This isn't the war, and I refuse to let it become like that again. I didn't take this job so people would end up living in fear and innocents would die."
"But that's not why you called me here."
He knew, of course, what Ky was going to say, could tell from his softening expression what this was all about. "Sin."
Ky drew a deep breath, searching for the right words.
"I… can't keep him here. Not with the situation as it is. I'll do everything to keep it from going out of control, but there is no telling what will happen if one of them… notices." He paused. "He's been growing so fast. So far, the palace has been a safe place. Here, I can select who gets close to him. Who is trustworthy. And it's the same thing all over again, they trust me because…"
Because they thought him to work miracles, so he was allowed certain eccentricities. It was ironic, Sol thought, how little things had changed from the war.
"We expected this to happen, though."
"Of course." Ky bit his lip. "Of course. I just hoped… he'd be a little older by then. A little more…" He trailed off. "I don't even want to imagine what happens if somebody lets something slip. Just says something to the wrong people at the wrong time. They'd pounce on him like bloodhounds, now that that's cropped up."
"So, you want me to…"
A slight smile. "He's been asking to go outside, recently. And I can't blame him. The palace only offers so many places to explore… or trash. I don't want to cage him. But…"
"You'd need somebody who isn't in the spotlight to do this."
"I'm thinking it's time you live up to your responsibilities. He is partly yours, after all." Ky didn't add, "and it shows", but that came across, anyway.
As before, the bout of teasing was short-lived, Ky's eyes darkening again at the thought of things to come.
"You don't have to stay here, you know. I'm a wanted criminal anyway, who's to say I'm above kidnapping the king?" It was an unfair offer, a selfish one, and Sol knew that even as he made it. Ky would never lightly take the decision to leave his son like that, if he thought there was another way.
"I can't do that, Sol. I can't leave things as they are, allow a government of witch hunters to succeed me. I need to gain control of the situation first. And once it's calmed down, maybe…" Sol followed his gaze to a sheet of paper, which had been folded and unfolded many times, Ky's neat handwriting citing excerpts of laws, and below that…
Unknown Species Protection Act…?
"You're not serious."
"I-"
"You're not serious," Sol repeated, working to keep the growl out of his tone. Of course he would be serious, the foolish, hard-headed boy. Only he would attempt such a form of reconciliation, would try to protect every innocent, even those that were loose cannons.
The fluffy yellow canaries come with teeth, boyscout.
"You're mad. They'd never let you live this down. You might as well paint a fucking target on yourself, if you push for that."
"I-"
"They'd label you the enemy of humanity, and you know it. There's nobody on this planet who hasn't lost somebody in that goddamn war, who hasn't seen what Gears are capable of. If we ever become the sort of thing that's used to scare children into bed, then that'll be an improvement."
"I know that, don't you think?" Ky said, but his voice was quiet.
Sol huffed. "Putting yourself in the line of fire like that is a fucking stupid idea. It wouldn't do any good. If one of us goes haywire, any law out there would be worth crap, anyway. And there's too few of us around for it to really matter."
"It does never not matter."
"Aw, hell. Stop looking like I just kicked your puppy. I'm not telling you anything you don't already know," Sol muttered.
"I do know," Ky sighed, eyes avoiding Sol's. "I know. I just wish the world would let it happen."
Sol stayed silent.
---
Sin thought that going outside was the most awesome plan ever, bouncing up and down on the bed as his father was moving about the room, packing a few things into a simple traveling bag.
Ky found himself smiling at his son's excited chattering in spite of himself, though it made him wonder how much Sin had actually been listening past a certain point.
"And I wanna go on an airship and see the giant rotating bridge and the hom… homo… very big chocolate pudding with the fighting girls and the-"
"The what?!" Ky asked, sure that he had misheard.
"Pa says there's a giant chocolate pudding in that one town with the big shiny dome and girls fight over who gets to eat it. I wanna fight, too! I bet I can eat it!"
"I… am quite sure that's not real chocolate," Ky said, mentally vowing to use the next chance to remind Sol emphatically of what not to talk about in front of Sin. As lost a cause as that was, it would at least give him some satisfaction.
"Awww," Sin said. "But I'm gonna go see the huge scaly Gears and the tiny hopping furry Gears with the sharp claws and the colossal ugly flying Gears with the thousand eyes and I'm gonna draw them all and…"
It would never not be surreal, Ky reflected, to hear a small child babbling enthusiastically about things he'd faced down by the dozen, and which were still giving most of the veterans nightmares. He zipped the bag closed and beckoned Sin with a wave of his hand.
"Let's go. He's waiting."
"Un!"
Sin launched himself off the bed and grabbed his flag from where it was leaning against the wall, dashing to the door. Ky followed, albeit more slowly.
Sol was waiting for them at the exit, trying to make himself seem inconspicuous against the wall, and if Ky hadn't known better, he would have said that Sol was looking a bit uncomfortable.
"Pa!" Sin exclaimed, preparing for a tackle, but Ky placed a hand on his shoulder, holding him back. Sin looked up at him quizzically.
"We won't be able to see each other for a while now, Sin," Ky said, letting the duffel bag slide to the ground and bending down on one knee.
"So, I want you to take good care of yourself. Listen to your father… except when he says bad words. Or tells you that bathing is optional. Or that raw meat is a healthy diet. Or that grunting is a language. Actually… don't listen to him. You're safer that way."
As he was talking, he reached under his collar and tugged the ornate golden cross free, unclasping the chain and fastening it around Sin's neck instead. It looked ridiculous on Sin's small frame, the pendant dangling somewhere in the vicinity of his stomach.
Sin blinked at the gift, and then blinked some more as he was pulled into a tight hug.
"Be good, okay?" Ky murmured.
"Oh-kay," Sin said plaintively, squirming a little when the seconds passed and his father still did not let go.
Chuckling, Ky released him, rising and picking up the bag again. Sin ran ahead to the exit, jumping up and down in impatience as Ky shoved the bag at Sol.
"Don't drag him into seedy bars."
"So un-seedy ones are okay?"
"And don't use him as Gear bait."
"Damn, I was planning on that."
"Stop telling him about naked people wrestling in pudding."
"I didn't say they were naked."
"And for the love of holy, don't ever teach him how to be like you!"
"Aw, love you, too."
Ky glared.
Sol was smirking, leaning in closer. "Don't I get a proper goodbye kiss?"
"I'll show you goodbye," Ky threatened, the air around him crackling with static electricity.
"So prissy," Sol said, before turning around and stalking towards the exit. "C'mon, brat, let's get out of here."
"You got in trouble!" Sin observed, obviously delighting in this fact.
"Heh. Your mom's just being stingy."
"With pudding?" Sin asked.
"Something like that," Sol said, and neatly sidestepped the lightning bolt aimed at his rear.
--
The brat, Sol thought, really hadn't gotten out much.
He had never seen anybody gawk so much at the naked countryside before. Not that the view wasn't nice and all, standing on top of a mountain above a sea of clouds, but Sol had thought that after half a day, the novelty would have worn off.
Then again, Ky hadn't exactly been able to take the brat anywhere, or the media would have been on him in an instant. It was kind of a miracle that the reporters hadn't been having a field day from day one, what with the illustrious Illyurian monarch suddenly acquiring a kid that looked startlingly like him, no woman in sight, and with said kid aging by a year every two months or so. Ky had to have some really loyal castle staff.
"What's that!" Sin pointed at a cluster of fir trees. It had been going on like this for a while, the brat pointing out objects in the landscape and demanding to be told what they were called.
"Tree."
The brat scowled. "What kind!"
Pseudotsuga menziesii, the scientist in him supplied. Grouping…
"...Dunno."
"And that!"
A cluster of tiny yellow flowers, this time, huddled next to a stretch of plain rock.
Tussilago farfara. Typically about four inches in height. Blooms from-
"Flower."
Sin's scowl deepened. "And that!"
Sol squinted at a random cloud floating overhead. Was the brat playing with him?
He glanced at him and caught the gleam in Sin's eye. "Brat."
"Mom always explains stuff to me," Sin said, and damn if he didn't have that reproachful look down to a T.
Sol rolled his eyes. Normally, Ky was there to pull the brat off him when he got too annoying, Ky was the one responsible for the explaining and the teaching and all the other kiddie stuff. Sol got to point and laugh occasionally, make Ky mad, and apply his own internal psychology to keeping the bioweapon components in check.
It wasn't that he minded the brat, not really, it was just that if anybody had told him beforehand that he'd acquire a kid more than 150 years in the future, he'd have laughed and then knocked their teeth in.
But then again, you would have done the same if anybody had told you where you'd end up with the boyscout, and that's coming along swimmingly.
He huffed.
"Item number one, kid. Mom does that, and I do this. Get used to it." He paused. "Number two. That? Is a cloud."
Sin giggled.
Swimmingly.
---
After the initial weirdness, the brat proved to be half as annoying as he'd seemed at first. It helped that he listened for the most part when Sol did have something to say, and asked relevant questions when he wasn't playing word games. Which happened more often than Sol would have liked, but after listening to the brat for a few days, cheerfully stringing along words to create monstrosities such as "Gear-hunter-fee-reception-office-lady-scowl", Sol was convinced that Ky's fear of him teaching the kid how to communicate in monosyllables was entirely unfounded.
It didn't even bother him that much, once it all kind of started blurring together into background noise, and Sin didn't require him to listen to his chatter.
It was fine, really, right until a few weeks in, when Sin started wanting mommy-cuddlies and telling mommy about his adventures and showing mommy his pictures and whyyyyy can't we go see him right now!
Well. That was decidedly not what he needed. Sol frowned and poked at the fire for a bit. "He explained that to you."
Sin shuffled his feet, leaving long tracks in the gravel.
"We can't go, end of story. It's late now, and your mom would kill me if I brought you back there."
"But why."
"He told you," Sol said, mentally cursing the kid's attention span. "It's dangerous."
"But why."
"Because you're a Gear."
"I'm not afraid," Sin said, scowling.
"That's not the point. Your mom's worried."
"But mom is strong!"
Clamping down on the urge to use the 'fist-to-the-head' method, Sol palmed his jacket for the pack of cigarettes. He really wanted a smoke right now, Ky's rules about smoking in front of the kid be damned. He needed to stop being irritated long enough to try and figure out how to best explain politics to a child Gear that had "want"-mode on full blast and was refusing to accept no for an answer.
Remarkably like someone else we know, hm?
There was the mental equivalent of a swat from the other side of his consciousness, but nothing else.
"This isn't something you can smack down with a sword. ...Or a flag," he amended. "Sometimes, the world is more complicated than that. Sucks, but what can you do. I'm afraid you're stuck with me for the time being, kiddo."
After a moment, Sin nodded slowly, turning his gaze to the fire.
Satisfied that the kid seemed to have understood at least that much, Sol finished the cigarette, extinguishing the butt against the ground. They'd have a taxing day tomorrow. Tracking down those dragonfly types was always a pain. And he'd have to sleep with one eye open, too, in case the kid did something foolish like attempting to trek back to mommy all on his own.
Prodding the flames one last time, Sol stretched out on his back, one arm tucked under his head. "Better get some shuteye. I'm not lobbing you around tomorrow if you're tired."
No response.
Turning his head, the kid hadn't moved, hunching his shoulders and still staring in front of himself without really looking at anything. Damn if he hadn't gotten the kicked-puppy-look from the master.
"Aw hell," Sol muttered, flinging out an arm and grabbing the kid by the back of his suspenders. "C'mere."
"Mmph!"
With the kid went the flag, which smacked Sol across the knees as Sin twisted to face him, blinking in surprise.
"I'd hate to explain to your mom why that frown on your face is permanent. I'm seeing the inside of his bedroom little enough as it is."
And damn if that smile wasn't as bright as a 100-Watt Christmas tree, too. Sol rolled his eyes as the kid went about wedging himself in the crook of his arm, dragging the flag over himself as he'd done every night since Sol had picked him up. The heavy cloth flopped onto Sol's chest and promptly slid off again, barely long enough to cover even half of him.
Sin grunted and pushed it back up again, only to be rewarded with the same result.
"Give it up, kiddo. That won't work."
"Hmm. We'll have to get a bigger one," Sin mused.
Resigned to his fate, Sol said nothing.
---
Sometimes, Sol wondered why he had ever agreed with Ky that putting Sin on a leash was a cruel and inhuman thing to do. Then he remembered that not agreeing would have banished him from the bedroom for the next six months, but that still wasn't a good reason why he hadn't bought one as soon as they were out of the castle. Because, damn it, he really, really should have.
It wasn't unusual to lose a child in a crowd, but most children weren't armed and didn't have the attention span of a gnat.
Sol kept hoping that he had just been distracted by something shiny, and since there were a lot of shiny things to be gawked at in the middle of a festival, that didn't exactly limit his search perimeter.
Nobody was screaming bloody murder at the food stalls, which meant that Sin couldn't possibly have gone for the candy booth. Ditto for the game stalls, since Sin did not only have the accuracy to win a lifetime's supply of stuffed animals, but also had the tendency to completely misjudge his own strength. Sol hoped that he hadn't gotten as far as the carnival rides, since he really didn't feel like being a respectable citizen and paying for property damage, never mind explaining to Ky why his son had made it into the local paper. And Ky would find out-he had no doubt that Ky hadn't stopped his habit of checking the bounty records.
"Die, Gear!"
There was a loud crashing noise, and over the top of people's heads, Sol could see a giant parade fixture partially collapsing.
Aw hell.
Elbowing his way through the throng, Sol arrived at the scene of the commotion to find Sin happily bashing away at the papier-mâché skull of a dog-headed creature, its fiercely glaring eyeballs now dislodged to the point of going cross-eyed. Well, at least he hadn't used-
"Ride the lightning!"
-magic yet.
Hell.
Although a far cry from its namesake, the spell jolted through the length of the dragon, leading its hindquarters to collapse, as well. Sol thought he could hear some weak moans from its drooping paper folds. Shit, was that one of those things that actually came with people inside?
"Oi, brat!"
Sin whipped around, his eyes shining with excitement. "Pa! I found a Gear!"
This was punctuated by a sound thwack on the "Gear's" head. Were people staring? They probably were, but Sol had other problems right now.
"That's not a Gear."
"...It's... not?"
"No, it's not." Sol threw back the flap to reveal a half-conscious guy, every hair on his body standing on end, who started screeching when he caught sight of Sin.
"But it was attacking that girl!" Sin pointed to a petite brunette in a parade costume, who was staring at them, wide-eyed.
"Um."
Damn Ky and his stupid ideas of imparting chivalry to his son.
The crowd was partially moving back to the scene of the crime, curious to see what was going on.
The guy was still screeching. People were still staring. Sol could practically see the headlines being typed right in his mind's eye.
"Um," said the girl again. "Perhaps we should get out of here?"
---
Under the girl's direction, they sought cover in an empty Chinese restaurant, where she promptly disappeared. The commotion outside was still ongoing, though, so Sol decided to take advantage of the lack of witnesses and subjected Sin to a prolonged form of the "knuckle-to-the-head" method. Damn if this wouldn't be all over the papers tomorrow.
"Aw, don't hurt him."
Sol looked up from grinding his fist against Sin's thick skull. The girl had changed out of the costume and wiped off the war paint, altering her appearance drastically. Sol thought she seemed familiar somehow, but couldn't quite put his finger on it.
"She's pretty!" Sin said, clearly under the impression that he was stage whispering, and the girl gave a high-pitched giggle.
Oh. Oh, hell.
"What a cute little charmer," Jam Kuradoberi squealed, clapping her hands together.
Just their luck, running into that woman, of all people. He had never met her in person, but the fairly unsubtle letters she had written to Ky when he had still been with the police force, complete with photographs attached, kind of stood out in his memory. Maybe it was the smell. Really, who sent perfumed letters these days?
It had been fun to watch Ky twitch whenever he received a new one, too polite not to answer them. Apparently, she'd gotten a hold of his office number at some point and called a few times, and Sol had been present once or twice to see Ky hastily yanking the receiver away from his ear.
Sin wriggled in his hold, and Sol didn't even need to look to know that the brat was grinning like a loon.
"Don't be so harsh with him," Jam was saying. "He was only trying to protect a lady! That's rare, these days."
Sol barely held back a snort, but by then, his grip had gotten lax enough that Sin managed to slip free.
"You're not hurt, are you, Miss?"
Funny, how the same line could sound so very different when spoken by two different people. It was like having a little version of Ky around, with all of the shiny and none of the restraint or shame. He really ought to have a talk with Ky about this. The brat was still grinning.
"Awww, so cute!" Jam giggled, tousling his hair. "You know... you kind of remind me of somebody. He was cute, too. What's your name?"
"Sin K-"
Sol gave the brat a not-so-subtle whack in the back of his kneecaps, and Sin trailed off into a cough.
"Who'd name such a sweet little boy 'Sin'?"
"Well, he is original," Sol muttered. Was the grin splitting the brat's face yet?
Jam blinked at him, nonplussed.
"It's a codename!" Sin said proudly, which prompted another bout of giggles.
"Tell you what, Sin, I'll fix you something because you rescued me from that evil dragon," she said.
Oh. Oh, wonderful. Way to go and ruin what he had just spent ten minutes imparting to the brat.
"Well, that's nice, but we were leaving," Sol said, giving the brat's suspenders a surreptitious yank. Sin deflated visibly.
"Oh, but where would you go?" Jam asked, putting a finger to her chin. "They're still looking for those who caused the commotion. It's safer if you stay here a while, unless you don't mind paying for all that property damage."
Was it just him, or were her eyes gleaming? Damn the invisible rays of shiny and their heritability. Perhaps he should start teaching the brat about cougars...
"I'm sure my little savior would like some hotpot, wouldn't he?"
Sin was nodding wildly, and Sol would have loved to blame this on the castle maids and their endless cooing over the "little master", but he had been the one to introduce the rule of thumb, "Never pass up a meal. Especially if it's free."
"Alright, then it's settled! Just sit down wherever, and I'll fix up something. Be back in a jiffy!" A wink, and she had disappeared behind the fluttering noren that concealed the entrance to the kitchen.
Sol took the opportunity for another round of knuckle-to-the-head.
"Next time, you listen to me, brat, or I'm gonna roast you. You're still in for an ass-kicking once we get out of here."
When he let go, Sin escaped to the other side of the room, slipping into a chair.
"She said I was cute!" he said, smoothing out his hair and looking thoroughly unrepentant.
"It's a different word for saying you're a precocious moppet," Sol growled, "You're not supposed to be hitting puberty yet."
"You're jealous," Sin said, still grinning.
"Feh," Sol huffed. "Enjoy your insolence while you still can, brat. As soon as we're out of here, I'm buying that leash."
--
There was something distinctly strange about working without interruptions, without a childish weight attempting to swing from his arm in mid-sentence, or having his foot used as leverage for conquering his lap.
It was also strange not to be required to change his clothes at least twice a day because Sin had managed to get paint or marmalade or mud on his hands and thrown his arms around him in a tackle-hug, or not to have a tiny weight jostling him out of his sleep in the middle of the night-it was kind of sad that Sin would be long past that age when they would next see each other.
The silence seemed almost louder than the near-constant noise that had once filled his office, as Sin had grown from running smack-dab into chairs and file cabinets to taking apart office equipment to toppling the heavy bookcase with the almanacs (he had been forbidden from touching the glass cupboard housing the tea cup collection on pain of severe penalties). Privately, Ky had to admit that he sometimes found himself listening for crashes and explosions out of sheer habit, and feeling disappointed when, of course, nothing was forthcoming.
Sin seemed to be having fun, at least, if the enthusiasm ringing from his infrequent but lengthy letters was any indication. Sol had taught him one of the old code systems they had used during the war... as well as convinced him to adopt his almost illegible scrawl. Really, one of the few ways to tell them apart were the constant doodles added in the margins-they even seemed to have developed the inexplicable talent for producing nearly identical stains.
Sometimes, it made him wonder if Sin would even feel comfortable here anymore, when the time came that it was safe for him to visit the castle again.
Visit...
It had a strange ring to it, to think of it as "visiting" instead of "coming home", but Ky had gone over the options long ago and decided that this would be no life for Sin. The thought of his son trapped between the spider webs of intrigue and the stiff formalities of nobility didn't sit well with him. Sin was not the kind of person who would feel comfortable in any such environment once he lacked a child's obliviousness-Ky himself could hardly feel at ease, couldn't quite comprehend how anyone could.
But he had a duty to fulfill, and that was enough. It had to be.
"-Majesty? Your Majesty?"
An aide had cracked open the door, too polite to step inside.
"Ah, my apologies. What is it?"
"The horses are ready, Your Majesty, if you wish..."
Ah, of course. Time to jump in the shark pond, as Sol liked to call it.
Locking the letter in his desk drawer, Ky gathered his papers and headed for the door.
--
Sol couldn't remember the last time he had been to the movies. It had to have been during his early teenage years, before he'd had his all work and no play phase, and after that... there hadn't exactly been time. He would never have agreed to it now, either, except the brat had hit him with the question when he'd still been mostly asleep, and had subjected him to the kicked-puppy face when he tried to pretend he'd forgotten, later. He made sure to grumble about it at length, just so the brat wouldn't start thinking he was easy.
He and Ky had agreed to limit Sin's exposure to anything that would give him very bad ideas, but Sol figured he'd have to start learning to distinguish between reality and fiction sooner or later. How bad could it be, anyway? Nothing a few kicks in the right places wouldn't solve.
The theater came pretty close to being one of those buildings that were technically a safety hazard but tearing them down would cost more than letting the structure collapse on its own. Most of them were like that-those that had survived, anyway-with money for reconstruction still flowing to other places.
The floor was sticky more often than not, the seats were threadbare and had clearly been built for somebody with half his bulk, but whatever. Sin had managed to inhale most of his popcorn by the time the previews rolled around, and Sol figured if he just slept through the stupid, nothing cataclysmic would happen. The brat had had it ground into his head that he was not to attack the screen under any circumstances, and that just about covered the rules for this kind of place. Stretching out as well as he could, Sol closed his eyes, slowly drifting off to the sounds of high-pitched cartoonish chattering and the subsequent over-dramatic opening credits.
And then...
"They made mom a girl," Sin said, consternated.
Wait, what?
Sol sat up straight, shaking the fuzziness from his brain, and blinked at what appeared to be a really nice pair of legs in a short, short skirt.
Sin was equally riveted, though for entirely different reasons. There were monsters on the screen, too, past the really nice pair of legs in the short, short skirt.
"What did you drag us into, brat?"
He hadn't really been listening when Sin had told the cashier what he wanted, which Sol had assumed would be whatever the equivalent of Bugs Bunny was these days, though come to think of it, the lady had looked at them like she had wanted to say something...
"They made a movie about mom! I wanted to see that," Sin said. "But they made him a girl."
On the screen, the camera stopped showing off the really nice legs, panning up the skirt-clad booty, circling to the front to give an extensive view of a pair of boobs divided by a golden cross, and finally focusing on the girl's face.
She had the scowl down perfectly, right down to the way she was sticking out her bottom lip. Lip-gloss, of course, but then again, Sol had teased Ky mercilessly about his toiletry, as he had perhaps been the only person in the entire army to bother bringing a sewing kit and toothbrush along for forays into swamps and other nasty places. Part of the setting an example thing. Or something. The bow on the back of her head was a nice touch, too.
Things started going critical further down, and while the thought of Ky in that getup was pretty hot, no, the female members of the Order would have murdered anyone for suggesting that as the regular dress, and come on, the hooker boots were totally ridiculous. Points deducted for the way she was holding the rapier thing they'd stuck her with, too-anybody could've wrenched the weapon from her hand with a slight twist.
And-oh come on, nobody could be doing somersaults in those heels, and flipping and flopping all over the place like that was just plain stupid. From the looks of it, Sin was already well on his way to incorporating every hilariously over-the-top move into his baton-twirling routine, though, staring at the screen in rapture. Sol scowled, and made a mental note to do a lesson that covered decapitation due to pole-dancing.
The church bell-violin combo suddenly segued into some really bad brass theme, and... was that supposed to be him?
Sin was of the same mind, since he was glancing skeptically between Sol and the Neanderthal reject in the movie, and man, fighting half-naked really wasn't as fun as the films made it seem. Whoever had been in charge of the choreography had clearly used up most of his ideas for the Kylie. No matter what that sword looked like, it was not bludgeon. Why hadn't they just given the guy a stone club?
Whoever had made this had some very screwed up notions about the war, too-that tentacle thing that had currently disarmed the Kylie and was holding her hostage... well, that slime was capable of dissolving you into nice, digestible goo. These things didn't care about molesting people, just about crushing their ribcage. Panty shot. Tentacles going for boobs. Girly screeching. Great. Was this turning into monster hentai?
"Why doesn't she just fry it?" Sin said, staring crossly at the writhing girl.
"Because the script says that he has to save her so they can- uh. So she can show how grateful she is."
"That isn't very nice." Sin was glaring at the guy, who had managed to free the girl and was holding her slung over his shoulder, panty-clad bottom to the camera, of course, and one meaty hand on said bottom.
Well, that was one thing he wouldn't have to be lecturing on, at least.
The movie got two more strikes. One for idiotic speeches, something Sol was sure he'd have to educate the brat on, since few things in the world gave you an opportunity to tell them how great you were and exactly how you were going to defeat them. And while Sin was technically able to survive a whack or two to the head, that would just count as poor performance. The second one was a case of the writers smoking something that was definitely not tobacco-the Kylie conveniently shorting out in the middle of a downpour so she could be rescued yet again.
"That's stupid!" Sin shouted, "Mom can-"
Dragging Sin back into his seat to the angry murmurings of other moviegoers, Sol brought his fist down on his head. "No mentioning who your mom is in public, kiddo."
"Oh. Yeah." Sin scratched his head sheepishly.
Sol wasn't sure how they made it through the rest of the movie. The decisive battle against the villain was a pretty nice lightshow, though whoever had designed the pseudo-Justice had watched one too many space operas, but otherwise, it was a collection of priceless hilarity interspersed with Kylie fanservice. Perhaps he should find a poster of that and send it to Ky, to enjoy the mental image of him blushing and fuming all over the place.
Somebody had thought it'd be more romantic to have Neanderthal-him stick around for victory-booty (and damn it, he should have, though the make-up sex hadn't been bad, either), which turned out to be an epic slobberfest.
Wow, Ky would skewer him if he slipped him the tongue like that. Though that just served to remind him that he hadn't had any opportunities to get skewered in quite some time.
"Ewww. Is he... trying to eat her?"
Oh damn. Brat watching. Sol reached to the left and covered Sin's eye with his hand.
"No word to mom about this, or he'll find ways to kill us both."
--
Most people would likely consider a dinner party a pleasant event.
Ky had always felt nervous and out of his depth whenever he had been forced to attend such gatherings for publicity and fund-raising purposes during the war, which had fortunately not been very often. The snobbish formality and insipid small talk had annoyed him, the way deals and alliances were forged over glasses of Chardonnay and tiny slices of toast topped with perfectly round piles of caviar, safely away from anything resembling reality, where people were dying and fleeing and starving.
It had been at times like these that he could understand Sol's anti-establishmentarianism, at least to a degree.
Little had changed from that time, except the fact that the war had ended. Those in power were still gambling with people's lives over fancy pastries, and as much as Ky would have preferred not to be a part of the entire miserable charade, he knew that he needed to attend in order to be able to make informed decisions.
He had found out early on that the small clusters of gossiping women yielded much more valuable information, the men too busy preening their feathers to reveal much of interest or use. Lady Chevenix-Gore in particular, an imposing woman with a penchant for gaudy jewelry and a brand of humor that could still make him blush brightly in embarrassment, was a veritable wellspring when it came to the comings and goings in high society, especially in high society's bedrooms.
It had mostly been her unsubtle hints about the Archduke's secret preference of the company of goats, of all things, that had finally led to the downfall of the hardliner faction. Without their most prominent spokesman, the rest seemed suddenly a lot less sure about their plans of pushing for a Gear hunting commission that would operate independently from the police force, with full access to any and all personal records.
Ky knew he would have to thank her, later. As for now, he was trying to get rid of the horribly sycophantic character of a certain Duke of Lorion, who clearly had his own agenda and was under the impression that his over-the-top flattery would lull Ky into a false sense of security.
"Most unfortunate, most unfortunate," the duke was saying, his eyes flashing sharply behind his expression of excessive sympathy. "Dear Alfred's presence will be sorely missed, I'm sure."
"Certainly," Ky agreed without missing a beat, pretending he could not see the man's piercing stare.
"After all, he has always had the interests of the populace in mind," the duke prompted, obviously hoping for Ky to disagree.
Interests indeed. He had them so much in mind that he would have loved to know them right down to the tiniest detail, the little voice that sounded suspiciously like Sol muttered in the back of his head.
"It must be very beneficial to Your Majesty, no, to be able to proceed without, ahem, hindrance? Though perhaps some will wonder why Your Highness does not agree that the people must be protected from this... menace?"
"There are many capable bounty hunters in this world, who are more than willing to deal with any threat that arises," Ky said smoothly. "I see no reason to spend tax money on a special unit with a dubious modus operandi when we have a functioning system. One does have to wonder how the surveillance of phone lines ties into identifying and neutralizing Gears-especially since I have never seen one capable of operating a home phone."
"Well, yes of course!" the duke agreed hastily. "I am sure this was all an honest mistake-"
Letting his eyes sweep across the ballroom, Ky tuned out the lengthy cover-up. A ways away, the Lady Chevenix-Gore looked up from her little coterie of eccentric friends and lifted her hand in a beckoning wave, the colorful jewels adorning each of her fingers flashing in the overhead lighting.
Unfortunately, the gesture was hardly discreet, and the duke was never too busy apologizing not to notice these things. "Oho," he chortled, "I see the lady has caught Your Majesty's eye? Well, well, different strokes for different folks, but if I may be frank, she is so very unsuited to Your Majesty's delicate sensibilities."
What?
"She may be a woman of, ahem, grandeur, but she is far from the, uh, freshest around, and if one listens to the right sources, she has some very questionable pastimes. It would be wise for Your Majesty to choose some other... company. In fact, Minister Barton and I have been, ahem, wondering if you would not be interested in getting to know little Rosalind."
What?!
"She has been attending a renowned school in Switzerland and has just come back for the holidays. A sweet little thing with wonderful taste in art and music, a delight to listen to on the piano. Minister Barton has informed me that she would be absolutely enchanted to make Your Majesty's acquai-"
Along the wall, several crystal sconces gave a soft popping noise and exploded into showers of sparks and splinters.
The duke goggled, taking a step back from the tapestry.
"Do excuse me," Ky said, his voice betraying nothing, "It seems Lady Chevenix-Gore has been trying to alert me to a problem with the electricity. I better investigate this at once before we meet with further... accidents."
--
"Mom!"
The last time he had been on the receiving end of a flying tackle-hug, the hugger in question had plowed straight into his legs. Now, the hugger plowed straight into his chest and knocked him flat on the floor, making him grateful for the thick carpeting.
"Hello, Sin," Ky said, smiling and reaching down to pat the tousled head.
Sin stopped attempting to burrow into his chest like a dog, looking up and grinning. "I'm back, mom!"
"I think he can see that, brat," came Sol's amused voice from the door, and there went any chance Ky might have had at retaining his dignity.
"It's good to have you back," he said, still smiling. "But I think I'd appreciate it more if I weren't lying on the floor."
"Oops!" Sin said, hardly apologetic, but agreed to let him get up on the grounds that there would be more hugs. Ky got to his feet, brushing off his robes and engaged in a slightly more proper version of a greeting.
"You've grown," he observed, chuckling when Sin pulled away, puffing out his chest and straightening.
"That's not your accomplishment, that's genetics," Sol said, and Sin turned around to stick his tongue out at him.
"Just you watch it, I'm gonna be taller than you one day, old man."
"'Old man'?" Ky asked, smirking. "I see you've been downgraded. Makes me feel better, seeing how you got him to internalize that infernal mode of address."
"He managed that all on his own. Though the movie where they gave you boobies didn't help."
"That. Thanks for reminding me, I was going to kill you for that."
"Ah, there's the warmfuzzies right there." Sol grinned. "I've been missing those death threats."
"Ew, sap!" Sin complained, making a face. "If you're gonna start like that, I'm going over there. Far, far away."
"Yeah, yeah, shut up and scat. Give me some alone time with your mo-ow."
Ky glared, lightning dancing between his fingertips in silent warning.
"Oh, gross. Parents flirting. I'm gonna be in my room if anyone needs me."
"Nobody needs-ow! You really missed me, huh."
"I better not be hearing you all the way down the corridor!" Sin shouted, dashing out with his hands clapped over his ears in an overly dramatic fashion.
As soon as the door slammed shut, Sol took the time to give him a critical once-over. "You look like death warmed over."
"You're such a flatterer," Ky retorted. He knew there was no hiding it, though-things had been very busy lately. Most of the time, he didn't go to bed before the early hours of the morning, and more often than not, he would be up at the break of dawn, as well.
"No, seriously. How much sleep have you been getting? Saying 'I took a nap three days ago' doesn't count."
"I took a nap today after lunchtime, if you must know."
"On something constructed for napping, or did you just pass out on the desk?"
Ky shrugged. "I've been pulling 29 hour days before."
"Yeah, when none of us could afford to catch a wink of sleep, anyway," Sol said, rolling his eyes.
"Sometimes it's not so different from the war," Ky said ruefully. "Except back then, nobody was trying to marry me off."
Sol stared. "You're not serious."
"I wish I were kidding, actually. It was very embarrassing, especially on-"
"...That's it. I'm getting you out of here."
"I've already taken care of it," Ky said, lifting his hand in a pacifying gesture. The hardest part had been calming down the castle staff, who had seemed just about ready to fetch the pitchforks for causing His Majesty and His Majesty's poor sickly beloved such grief. "The young lady was as embarrassed as I about the whole thing, seeing as we are both rather... spoken for."
"And you think this will get them off your back?" Sol pointed out. "Do you seriously think you can keep saying no if they start lining up a whole harem?"
"That's disgusting. Like choosing an... an accessory."
"Welcome to the world of the aristocracy, where political deals come in the form of wedding rings. If they're really smart, they've already picked a mistress on the side for you, too. You have been pretty boring on that front, so far."
"And here I was under the impression that they'd called me in to save Illyuria from a crisis," Ky sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Heh, I knew I should have bought one of those girly magazines where they devote fifteen-page high-resolution specials to your ass."
Ky stared at him. Half the problem with Sol was that one could never tell what was crazy talk, what he was making up just to be annoying, and what was actually true. "You're joking, right. Please tell me you're joking, why would they…? For that matter, why would anyone...?"
Sol shrugged. "It's a very nice ass. Why do you think I've been following you around so diligently? Better view, that's why."
"I should fry you for that, but I've got a headache."
Returning to his desk, Ky began tidying up the paperwork. The signed request forms went on one stack, the rejected ones wandered into the waist-high pile on the side, the confidential stuff was to be put into sealed envelopes and stored away in the safe, and he really wanted to ignore the flashing display on the answering machine that told him he had managed to accumulate about fifty messages since this morning...
The sudden jolt of pain as five fingers precisely found the worst knots on the back of his neck was almost a relief, momentarily overriding the pounding in his skull.
"How is it," Sol was murmuring close to his ear, "that that pile seems to be growing larger every time I stop by?"
"Perhaps because it is," he replied, trying not to lean into that welcome pressure.
"Funny, and here I thought you were well on your way to fixing this country."
"I am. There's just... so much more to do. I've got the Gear problem mostly under control, but then there is the school system, and agriculture needs financial aid, and first I'll need to push for that tax reform they're all resisting because it's not feeding their own pockets. And after that..."
"I could kill everyone," Sol suggested, fingers working across his shoulders.
"Ask me again when I can actually say no." His voice hitched on the last word, pleasure finally winning out over pain, Sol's chuckle a low reverberation against his temple. Was it just him, or was it getting warmer, a slow heat spreading from his back through his body, making it hard to concentrate.
"Evil."
"I prefer thinking of it as opportunistic," Sol said, thumb digging into the space below his left shoulder blade. "Seeing you squirm is just a nice fringe benefit."
"You suck at sucking up."
"I don't suck at other forms of sucking."
"Oh, that's horrible, really horrible. I should kill you for that."
"Wanna punish me here or in the bedroom?"
Ky shook his head. "Remind me again why I put up with you."
A leer. "Gladly."
----
-TBC-
A/N:
1) This is one thing I'm glad Ishiwatari chose to elaborate on in the artbook. I don't think Ky would ever abandon his own child if he saw another chance.
2) Sin stomping around moping at his daddy in the game is still stupid. Like Ky and Sol wouldn't do their best to make him understand the situation. *eyeroll*
3) Aaaand Jam makes an appearance. XD This was too good an opportunity to pass up.
4) All these fanart sites drawing Ky in a school uniform. They've been put to good use. XD
5) ClichéclichebadflirtingclichéIlovemysapcliché.
Ride on to Part III? >>
<< Return to Guilty Gear Index | Return to Fanfiction Index >>