[Milliways]: Revelations
Between his time in Milliways' infirmary and his own, admittedly limited, medical knowledge, Nikola's recovery had gone far quicker than even he would have expected. In the time since then, he's been more focused than ever on perfecting his experiments with his mini-mes.
He needs the Source blood. That's what it all comes down to. But despite the many trips he's made to Bhalasaam over the last several decades, he's never been able to even reach his own key, much less the ones meant for the others. As much as he hates to admit it, he can't retrieve the blood without the other four, which may make things difficult considered Nigel's unfortunate demise.
And of course, there's the question of how he can possibly persuade the others into helping him.
Just when he is verging on the desperation of forcing their hand (or possibly inviting Yrael along to see what he could accomplish), the solution presents itself from the most unlikely of sources.
The Cabal have been ramping up their efforts to control or destroy the Abnormal population for months now, and it's this final effort of theirs that gives Nikola the opportunity he needs. The Lazarus virus, carefully constructed to turn any Abnormal it comes into contact with into a mindless killer, is a stroke of genius, he'll admit. All out war between humans and Abnormals would be chaotic on a global scale, and with the advantage of numbers on the human side and the disadvantage of insanity and bloodlust on the Abnormals'...well, it didn't look good for Abnormals of any kind. Even should Nikola manage to avoid infection, Helen and her sanctuaries would be destroyed, and vampires running a world entirely inhabited by humans would not be nearly as satisfying as vampires finally bringing Abnormals the respect they deserved in civilization as a whole.
Not to mention the carnage would leave the planet in ruins. Post-apocalyptic was not a good look for Nikola.
Yes, there were many, many good reasons for Nikola to help quite apart from the chance to get his hands on some of the Source blood. The true upside to the whole fiasco was that it meant he could count on Helen rounding up the whole crew and bringing them along to Bhalasaam just in time for Nikola to meet them there.
Once they figured out the main entrance, that is.
***
When they finally make their approach to his position, he can hear their voices echoing through the corridors.
“Why would the vampires build a cavern beneath a hidden city?” asks one voice, male, that Nikola doesn't recognize. “Seems kinda...redundant, don't you think?”
“Even though they were the conquerors, the rulers, the overlords,” comes Helen's voice in answer, clear as a bell and just as welcome in Nikola's mind, “they advanced civilization by centuries. Their knowledge, their technology was far more advanced than anyone could have imagined back then.”
Then comes the voice of nightmares. Or at least those unpleasant dreams you have after eating pickles and ice cream for supper. “So they kept their secrets well hidden,” Druitt offers, ever one to point out the obvious. Still, at least he was there. That made two out of four at least.
“Well, they...knew the world had turned against them.” And that would be the third, though James sounded much older, breathless, weak, as he panted out a soft, “John,” in plea to Druitt for some assistance no doubt. A cough, almost on top of Nikola now, and he continues, “They would have calculated for the possibility that,” a deep breath, the next words momentarily stronger, “Bhalasaam might one day be found, pillaged.”
A perfect entrance is a rare thing.
“Lest their wealth of knowledge fall into the wrong hands,” Nikola says, stepping out of a doorway, pleased by the shock on their faces, the way their flashlights swivel to find him in the darkness. “Miss me?”
Druitt takes a half-step forward before Helen stops him with a warning, “John.”
“Oh, I know he's difficult to kill, but I'm sure there are ways,” he says, glancing to Helen as if for permission.
Nikola only raises a finger in protest. “Is that before or after you retrieve the blood, because frankly, good luck with that if I'm dead. You know,” and he slows down here for effect, “you can't do it without me.”
With a smirk, he steps forward, “Nice move, last time we met, Johnny. Nnn...” He cracks his neck, writing the experience off to nothing more than muscle stiffness. “Took me a while to get over it.”
“Not long enough, old boy. Care for another helping?”
He's saved from having to answer by Helen's question. “What are you doing here, Nikola?”
She cuts right to the point. He's always admired that about her.
He's also had enough of being in the dark, trusting only to their pathetic flashlights for light in the caverns, so he reaches up to touch the base of a lamp hanging from the ceiling. With a spark and the buzzing of electricity racing through wires, it lights, as do all the others in the labrynth.
“Isn't it obvious? The Cabal want to turn the world into a warzone. Only the ancient blood can stop it. Yes.” He steps forward again, gesturing with his hands to make his point. “I do keep abreast of current events. Thank you.”
“Yet you refuse to answer any of our communiques,” James pipes up, and Nikola hopes for a moment that he didn't just imagine that look of disappointment amidst the annoyance.
“My dear James,” he answers, not a hint of the pleasure he feels at seeing the man after all these years evident on his face, “you're looking...older. Feeling your age?”
“Ever the gentleman, I see,” James responds, but it's an old game for them, barbs of friendship rather than scorn.
Ignoring the remark, Nikola turns his attention to the two other members of the party, standing behind the others, separated by distance as well as youth. “And what have we here? I'm guessing that one of you must be a blood relative of Nigel Griffen, otherwise why would you have been brought along? I hope you're up to the task.”
It's the girl who answers, and it's her words more than her appearance that mark her has Griffen's relation. “Damn straight I am, skinny.”
“You, I like,” Nikola says, pointing to her with a smile. He's always appreciated the ones who bite back. “You,” he adds, pointing to the young man next to her, “I don't know.”
“I'm Dr. Zimmerman,” he says, all straight-faced seriousness. “I work with Dr. Magus.”
Pretty, but dull. Helen's taste hasn't improved, it would seem.
“Protege.” He tuts. “Well, the mission's one, necessary, disposable item.”
It's best everyone knows their place, isn't it?
“Stop this, Nikola,” Helen says, and he knows he's not forgiven yet for their last encounter. “You know what we're facing here. Why not make contact?”
“Firstly, I prefer to work alone,” he answers, though he thinks this should be obvious to all of them by now. “Secondly, I don't trust any of you any more than you trust me. That's why I skipped the orientation part of the tour.” He can only imagine how unbearably boring it would have been to watch them try and find their way through the rubble of the ancient city.
“How did you get down here?” Of course, that would be James' question.
“Another entrance, far side of the mountain, just have to know where to look for it, which I do. Now, follow me.” There's a smugness to his smile that indicates his pleasure at knowing they'll obey. What other choice do they have?
“Magnificent, isn't it?” he begins, like a tour guide leading a group of school children. “All that remains of my ancestors and their work. Ten thousand years of knowledge and power hidden from the world.”
“You've been coming here for decades, haven't you?” Helen's voice comes from over his shoulder. He'd have thought it would be James who first made the connection, but perhaps he's merely distracted by the fact that he's now relying on his one, failed case to support him as he walks, his suit clearly unable to take the strain of traipsing through the mountains anymore. (Nikola wonders, briefly, if he should offer to make some improvements on it once this mess is over. It would be a shame for the Five to become the Three, after all.)
He stops as Helen continues. “This is where you got the idea to revive vampires as a race.”
“Your father...he did his job well.” Turning, Nikola begins the painful process of admitting his failure. “Despite my best efforts, we can only retrieve the blood as one. None of us can do it alone.”
“Tell me, Nikola,” Druitt says, affecting a boredom with the whole process that Nikola is certain must merely mask the rage bubbling beneath the surface. He has to be livid that Nikola is still alive after his latest attempt to change that. “If we do succeed, will you actually allow us to take it away? We all know you have such wonderful designs for it. An army of newborn vampires being just the start.”
He can't blame John, really. The man as every reason to distrust him. And that little acknowledgment that Nikola may in fact be capable of forcing it from them strokes his ego marvelously.
“I may want to see my ancestors reborn,” he says, speaking as though to a child. “But, that can't happen if the Abnormals become a global threat to humans. None of us could withstand the...chaos that that would bring. Okay?” He smiles, pleasant as a python. “But tell me, John,” he adds, stepping closer. “Are the rest of us to trust you, once all is said and done? You who once put your own daughter in harms way for just a drop of Helen's blood?” He arches his eyebrows, silently gloating over the fact that he knows about that little incident. The Cabal aren't the only ones whose movement he tracks. “Oh, yes. Having that vial to yourself would certainly solve your health problems for a long time. Wouldn't it?” There's a bit of gloating there too, of course. Reminding Druitt that his longevity is contingent on the rest of them. He lives because they do and for no other reason.
Perhaps sensing the violence that could easily erupt in this situation, Helen steps in. “Gentlemen. We are here for a reason. Nikola, lives are at stake.”
With an innocent smile, Nikola turns back to his guide duties. “This way.”
Behind him, he hears James' quiet, “John. Thank you,” as the old man once again relies on his oldest friend and enemy for support, and later, an exchange between the two youngest members of their expedition.
“What the hell was all that about?” Nigel's girl asks.
“Well...the guy who invented radio just dissed Jack the Ripper,” answers the protege to Nikola's great amusement.
***
It's a decent trek to the center of the labyrinth where Gregory had hidden his ridiculous clues, and Nikola figures it's only a matter of time before the youngsters start to get restless. It's like a family car trip, he muses. He and Helen the parents of course, Druitt the creepy uncle, James the genial godfather, and the other two bickering in the back seat.
Or doing other things in the back seat. He's fairly certain there's going to be some of that going on between Protege and Invisigirl soon enough if there isn't already.
“This place goes on forever,” Zimmerman remarks, still using his flashlight, though the lamps light the way adequately enough.
“It's a labyrinth,” Helen says. “It's designed to keep valuable secrets from those who would steal them.”
Something about the tone of her voice as she says this prompts Nikola to ask, “Was that aimed at me?”
“Yes.”
Ah, well. She has reason enough to distrust him as well, and they've reached the chamber with the stone dais, so there are more important things to concentrate on at the moment.
They all approach the device warily, Nikola and James the only ones who dare to touch it even, resting their hands lightly on the edge of the circle. In the center is a star-like mosaic, Roman numerals etched into the panels, the five points of the stars containing depressions clearly intended for some sort of keys to lay in.
“Some sort of numeric code?” the protege asks, proving he's not entirely stupid.
“My mother's birthday,” Helen says, pressing the appropriate panels. “My father's favorite password.”
Really, Gregory could be so damn predictable at times. It's a wonder he lasted as long as he did.
When she finishes, each panel lighting up as it's pressed, the pentagon in the center raises, a scroll of some sort hidden within it. Helen reaches for it, taking it out and smoothing it across the stone as the chamber recedes.
“It's his handwriting,” she says.
“Latin?” asks Zimmerman, and Nikola only just refrains from a snide remark as Helen nods.
“His favorite language.”
“It's a caveat addressed to all five of us,” James translates. “It's a warning that the blood should only be sought by all of us or not at all.”
“And only for the most altruistic reasons,” Helen adds.
“Well, saving civilization from global chaos and war seems worthy, but he's your father,” Nikola quips from across the dais.
“It's a map of the labyrinth,” Helen continues, clearly thinking Nikola's comment doesn't merit a response.
“There's five notations,” Zimmerman adds. “Here.” He points them out.
“Five tests,” James clarifies. “Each has one of our names beside it.”
“What kind of tests?” Griffen's girl asks, her nerves written all over her face. Nikola doesn't know why she's here, but he's almost certain it isn't willingly.
“Designed specifically for each of our gifts. Impenetrable to anyone else,” Nikola says, never one to offer comfort when he could cause fear instead.
“My father knew that in order to prevent any one of us from trying to access the blood alone he had to use the technology the vampires left behind to safeguard their secrets,” Helen adds, though Nikola doesn't see how this is any more comforting than his own contribution was.
“And even you couldn't find a way around it,” Zimmerman says to Nikola.
“I know. Nervous yet?”
“And at the end of each test there's a key,” James says, pointing them out on the map. “Once we have the five keys...”
“We can access the vial,” Helen finishes for him. “My father loved the metaphor of keys. He saw them as symbols for the unlocking of secrets.”
So damn predictable. At least Helen got the brains in their family.
“So we can assume that none of these tasks will be...simple and easy?” Druitt says with that infuriatingly familiar smirk cast in Helen's direction.
“Knowing my father, absolutely. May I?” she asks, turning the map from James. After looking at it for a moment, she addresses Zimmerman. “Will, take Clara to Griffen's test. That's here,” she adds, pointing in the right direction. “Watson, yours and John's markers are close together, down there.” She indicates the corridor in question. “Work as a team. We'll all meet back here with our keys.”
“Which leaves you and Nikola,” Druitt points out. “Your tests are marked for the same area.”
“I guess your father liked us best as a couple,” Nikola says, unable to resist poking John a little more.
John looks to Nikola then Helen then Nikola and back again. “Helen, if you can wait.”
“I'll be fine,” Helen assures him.
“Such chivalry,” Nikola says to him, only just bothering to hide his amusement.
“If any harm comes to her, accidental or otherwise,” John begins, looming over Nikola in what Nikola can only assume is meant to be a threatening posture.
“I have no reason to do her any harm,” Nikola cuts in. “But you...I'm finding more reasons by the minute.”
“Honestly,” Helen says, sounding every inch the scolding schoolmarm. “I'm surrounded by adolescents.”
With a nod, then, everyone goes their separate ways.
***
They arrive at Nikola's task first, and Nikola stalks up to the corridor with a determined look on his face. He knows this won't be pleasant.
“Ah,” Helen says with a glance up at the plaque above which reads, 'AMPLUS NAVITAS'. “Your test.”
“Yeah,” Nikola says, not terribly pleased to be here again.
“You said you'd tried to steal the blood once before. That means you've already done the test,” Helen reasons.
“No, I tried to steal it,” Nikola corrects. “I never succeeded in actually getting the key.” He never had the motivation he does now. He takes a deep breath as he looks down the corridor, and Helen looks him over slowly.
“You're afraid.”
He doesn't bother denying it. “Your father managed to rig this tunnel here with a massive geomagnetic current.” Helen looks at the device with more respect. “Voltage derived directly from the earth.
Do you have any idea how much electricity that is?”
Edison's electric chair had been a comfortable place to nap. This? Not so much.
“He knew you were hard to kill,” Helen offers in consolation.
“Well, this just might do it.”
With one last glance at Helen, he backs up, getting a good head of steam going as he plows into the tunnel only to be met with bolts of electricity ripping through his body.
Druitt's hand in his stomach had been like no pain he'd ever experienced, but this was a million times worse.
He had no choice, though, but to push through even as his body was pushed back with the force of the current.
After what seems an eternity of struggle, he collapses on the other side, breathless, boneless, hair and clothes smoking. It's a moment before he can even muster the strength to use the stone table in the center of the chamber to pull himself upright, fingers curling around the edges as the last bits of electricity tingle their way painfully out of his body. He's still catching his breath as he plucks the key from its stand, and he fixes Helen with a look of pure, smug satisfaction as he levers himself to his feet, still leaning on the stone for a moment before he can stand.
She gestures for him to come back and he nods. Key in hand, he steps back to the tunnel, stepping back quickly as the first bolts slice through him again, his breath stolen. It was, of course, too much to hope that once he'd gotten through the first time, getting back would be easier.
He takes a second to gather himself, leaning against the stand.
“Your father really didn't like me, did he?” He asks Helen.
“You're an acquired taste,” she answers.
“Uh-huh.”
And he steps into the tunnel again.
It's just as painful, just as difficult as the last time, and he only just manages to keep his transformation in check as he's all but thrust out onto the other side where he stands, panting, smoking, leaning against the wall for fear his legs will give out beneath him.
He holds the key out in front of him, assuring himself it's still in his hand, this was not for nothing, and he looks up at Helen and sees that look on her face.
“You felt...genuine concern for me,” he says, a pleased grin on his face. “Admit it.”
“Nonsense,” she says, a little too quickly.
“Ohhh. You still like me. It's so obvious.”
“You tried to kill me,” she points out, ever one to harp on old grudges.
“Yeah, but...you know, we all hurt the ones we love.”
She gives him an exasperated look, and he just smiles and holds up the key. “Your turn.”
Turning, they both head on to Helen's task, Nikola still shaking and limping a bit.
***
Helen's test, or as much of it as Nikola has been able to see, consists of an ocular scan. He figures there can't be too much of a test, really. Just something to ensure her identity, longevity being the only thing she was gifted with.
When they reach it, he gestures for her to step in front of the device.
She drops her backpack and steps up to it, leaning in to be scanned. In seconds, a door to their right opens, revealing a stone dais much like the others they've seen.
“Not much of a test,” she says as she steps inside.
“You're a total daddy's girl,” Nikola complains. His clothing still smells singed.
When he tries to follow her in, however, the stone door drops again. “Helen!” he says, reaching under the door in a vain attempt to pull it back up again.
And then she's gone, and there's nothing to do but wait.
While he's waiting, the ground starts to shake, stones crumbling from the walls, and the only conclusion he can come to is that someone didn't quite complete their task.
He can't leave Helen, though, so he stays until her door opens and she shows him the key.
“Nice,” he says, already leading her away. “But I think someone must have screwed up.”
“Bloody hell!” Helen exclaims as a wall crumbles down in front of them and it seems for a moment that they may be trapped. Nikola quickly finds an alternate route, though, and they continue their perilous way back to the main chamber.
A few scrapes and bruises and a light dusting of crumbled stone later, they stumble into the room where the others are already waiting, Will and Clara only half-dressed, the only sign they haven't been doing what it looks like they were doing the fact that neither of them smells of sex.
Helen holds up her key, then Watson from where he's leaning heavily against the wall, Druitt next, then Clara and finally Nikola, and Helen gasps out a breathless, “Well done. Shall we?”
They make their unsteady way to the dais and all of them place their hard-won keys into their places. At first, nothing seems to happen, and Nikola is about to curse Gregory's predictability, thinking that all this work, all this pain was for nothing, when he hears the sound of stone grinding against stone from behind him. The others hear it as well, and they turn to see a column turning, revealing a small crevice with the vial, the vial that Nikola has waited so long to find.
Helen steps toward it first, but Nikola is right behind her.
“Finally,” Druitt's voice rumbles behind him, but Nikola pays no attention, more intent on Helen's fingers closing around the glass as she picks it up and turns to face him.
“Haven't seen this in a while.”
“Is that it?” Clara asks. “That's the blood?”
“The power in that vial,” Nikola says, voice hushed in reverence for the last physical presence of his ancestors on this earth, “could change history. Create any kind of future we choose.” He looks at Druitt as he says this, still convinced John is the one who could understand the appeal of that if he would only let himself try.
“We?” Druitt responds.
“Don't worry,” Nikola is quick to assure him. “I intend to see this through. Antivirus and all.”
There's a horrible sound then, soft but with terrible meaning. Hydraulics failing. And it's the first time Nikola realizes that James isn't clustered around the vial with the rest of them. His soft, weak, “Ah-ahhh,” resounds across the chamber and all eyes turn to him.
Turn to see his frail, weakened, elderly body sliding down a pillar as the machine that had kept him young, vital, and alive gives out at last.
(In the back of his mind, Nikola thinks, I should have helped him. I should have made him stop, wait until we fixed the suit to go on. I knew it was failing, and I did nothing, said nothing.)
Helen rushes to his side, the vial of blood still clasped in her hand as she touches his face with the other. “Oh my god. What happened?”
“Oh...the inevitable, I'm afraid,” James answers, his voice old and frail as well. Nikola, in his unwavering belief in the abilities of the Five had never once expected to see James this way.
“The suit,” Helen says. “It stopped working.”
“It's been failing for some time,” James confirms. “Hasn't...really worked since we left the Sanctuary.” His words are punctuated with pained gasps, and Nikola stands off to the side, relegated by his own isolation to the position of outsider at the death of one of his closest friends. “I knew that this was a mission I would not return from.”
Nikola wants to rail at him, berate him for not saying anything while there was still time to fix it. But even he has enough tact to hold back.
“It was worth...one last challenge...Helen,” James manages. He looks around the circle at all of them, giving Druitt a look that Nikola can only imagine means they managed some sort of reconciliation during their own tests. He says nothing to Nikola, but they exchange nods.
Nods that sum up the entirety of their over a century long friendship. After all that time, there's nothing more to be said.
Turning back to Helen, James says, “You, I shall miss.” He gasps in another breath and turns to the protege. “William...William.” The boy takes his hand. “There is something...we are not seeing. This was...too easy. There is something else...happening. Something going on that we're not seeing. You must find the missing piece.”
As he speaks, Helen wipes her eyes. Nikola looks on the whole scene, taking it in, unsure how to react to it.
“What is it?” Will asks. “What's the missing piece?”
“Find it,” James repeats, and with a few more pained breaths, he wheezes out his last, eyes closing, lifeless body on the cold, stone floor.
Helen looks first to Druitt and then to Nikola, and neither of them have any words of comfort to offer.
[ooc: Spoilers for Revelations, pt. 2. All dialogue comes from that episode.]