[Guilty Gear] Terrorist Activities
Title: Terrorist Activities
Fandom: Guilty Gear (Overture)
Pairing: Sol/Ky
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Violence, humor, slight AU
Notes: I blame celadonite for making me hatch this particular plot, and twigcollins for encouraging me. It's a loving blame, of course. ♥
Terrorist Activities
When the west wing finally exploded, Sol couldn't honestly say that he had not seen it coming.
The only thing that was mildly surprising was that it had taken them that long to find a way inside the castle and into the royal chambers, but then again, Ky was nothing if not thorough in his security measures.
Although the people of Illyuria adored their monarch to an unreasonable degree, as evidenced by the mob that had tried to lynch the last would-be assassin, Sol knew that Ky's understanding of diplomacy was a little too undiplomatic for the scene of international politics.
Between his adamant refusal to permit the import of goods of dubious origins, his zero-tolerance policy towards any kind of corruption, and his icy rejection of what had been a thinly veiled threat disguised as an alliance proposal, Ky had probably managed to piss off about twenty-five major corporations and a medium-sized country just this week.
On most days, Sol found himself harboring the desire to at least slightly maim Ky for his more insufferable qualities, so it really wasn't a mighty stretch of the imagination that somebody with money, connections and an agenda had gotten his panties in a twist and hired some assassins that weren't completely incompetent-though the fact that they had been busted by a small child somewhat undermined their credibility.
Actually, from the way things were looking, the mission seemed like it had been a resounding failure.
Sol doubted that it had been their objective to kidnap the brat from the very beginning-it just seemed like overkill to demand ransom from somebody who should have been dead if things had gone according to plan. Sol could envision the scene all too easily in his head, because the brat was at that age where all children thought their parents were the coolest people on Earth. He had probably been sneaking around the castle on one of his pretend-Gear hunts before he had discovered the suspicious people attempting to place a bomb in his father's bedroom, and decided he would rather be a defender of justice instead.
The hilarity of a five-year-old armed with a flag charging in on a group of trained assassins was completely lost on Ky, though, who glared in a manner that vaguely expressed his "this is all your fault" sentiments, but did not say anything.
Sol decided that it was better not to mention that the brat was likely also responsible for the bomb going off in the first place.
Ky had the tendency to forget that Sin could leap off castle turrets and the only thing that would end up damaged were the rose bushes below. Imagining his son in the middle of a bomb blast would probably make him snap.
Truth be told, the prolonged silence from Ky's end was somewhat worrisome. When he was agitated, he tended to be very vocal about his displeasure, with lots of pacing, hand-waving and random outbursts in French. But ever since he had returned from calming the shocked and outraged castle staff-and likely dispensing individual apologies and words of comfort to the crying chambermaids, to boot-he had been eerily silent. The last time he had seen Ky this mad had been during the war, and boy had what followed ever been ugly.
A nearby chandelier that had survived the bomb suddenly exploded in a shower of sparks and splintering glass.
Sol looked up from his perusal of the debris. "Relax, boyscout. You're killing the decor."
Ky glared. "I'll relax when I've got my son back, thank you."
Well, at least he was still responding.
"You worry too much."
"And you don't worry enough! They could be doing god knows what to him, he's-"
"He's fine," Sol said, noting that the air was practically crackling with static electricity.
"I'm not talking about his physical condition," Ky snapped.
It was oddly endearing how he selectively managed to forget that this was also the kid who gleefully cheered Sol on when he was carving up Gears, and who was thus not very likely to be permanently scarred by a little violence.
"Between the brat and the assassins, my money is on the brat," Sol said. "In fact, this'll probably be the shortest kidnapping in history. I don't even know why we're trying so hard, they'll be handing him back to us in tears by tomorrow morning."
In retrospect, that had perhaps not been the best thing to say, but Sol still managed to catch the "Espèce d'imbécile!" over the rain of ceiling plaster as Ky slammed the door on his way out.
At least he was back to swearing in French.
----
It did end up being the shortest kidnapping in history, though not by virtue of restitution of the brat.
For once, Sol was glad that the brat had inherited Ky's talent for lightning magic, as the search might have taken longer if not for the rather inexplicable power outage in a small town, which involved the wires simply frying.
Sol had had high hopes for them making it back in time for dinner, but those hopes were dashed by the nature of the secret base, which turned out to be an old bunker with a virtual labyrinth of tunnels and storage facilities. His search was also somewhat hindered by the wailing air-raid sirens and flashing lights, courtesy of Ky's little "distraction maneuver", which had predictably sent most of the idiots running to defend their base, no doubt thinking that the Illyurian army had come for their blood.
A distant explosion rocked the ground, and he could hear some startled yells from down the tunnel. Ky was overdoing it just a little.
Rounding another bend, he ran into a pair of confused guards stationed in front of a thick metal door, and knew he had come to the end of his search.
If being caught red-handed by a small child undermined their credibility, their close-combat reflexes left even more to be desired-both men crumpling like paper dolls under one or two well-placed punches. When Sol finally had time to read the faded writing on the door, he downgraded his assessment of their competence to "grade-A morons".
"Power room", the bold print informed him, with a helpful little lightning bolt drawn underneath.
For the life of him, Sol couldn't figure out in what world locking a person with lightning affinity in the power room was a good idea, even if the person in question was hardly as tall as his sword. Shrugging, he nudged over the unconscious guards to look for a key, but didn't find one.
Ah well.
The door was a disappointment, too, the first kick denting it inward, the second one ripping it off its hinges and sending it flying into the room in a cloud of smoke and paint fumes.
It was kind of a shame Ky wasn't here to see the face of the child he had been fearing would be traumatized by a little abduction. Then again, if he were here, he would most likely lecture Sol for his unsafe jailbreaking methods.
Either way, Sin, shackled to the wall with what appeared to be several inches of industrial-strength steel chain, was positively sparkling. "Pa!"
A few feet away stood the sizzling remnants of what had to have been the emergency power generator, once upon a time. "Your handiwork, kiddo?"
"Un!"
Sol nodded appreciatively. "Nice going. Now we'll just have to teach you how to gnaw through those chains."
He bent down and snapped them off the pipe they were attached to, then paused. "...How many tries did it take to tie you down, anyway?"
"Three," Sin said, holding out his hands for him to unwind the chains.
"Only three?"
The kid pouted. "I was inca... inca... outnumbered!"
"'Incapacitated'."
"Oh yeah!"
"That word doesn't exist in my vocabulary. Now c'mere."
Sin allowed himself to be lifted, arms wrapping around Sol's neck. "Where's mom?"
Sol grinned. "Discharging his mama-rage on the rest of those small fry. Don't see why he needed my help, anyway, when half the base is already on fire."
"I wanna see!" Sin demanded enthusiastically.
"Like hell, he'd have my hide," Sol muttered. "Speaking of which..."
Shifting his grip, he managed to shrug out of his jacket and dumped it over Sin's head. Sin let go of his neck to push the red fabric aside, scowling at him in disappointment.
"Try all you like, brat, I know the inventor of that look. You're keeping that on, I'm not giving up my bed privileges for your entertainment."
Sin's scowl reluctantly disappeared beneath the jacket again.
"Good. Then let's get out of this dump."
Backtracking through the maze was a lot faster, thanks to the occasional body working as a signpost. Fighting with a kid hanging onto his neck was definitely a new experience, but Sin barely even twitched whenever he let loose with a gunflame.
Once they were a ways away from the bunker, he set him down and pulled off the jacket, revealing Sin's still miffed expression.
Sol waited for a moment, then sighed. "You stay here. I'll go fetch the nutcase."
----
Finding Ky was easier than it had any right to be; he just had to follow the screams.
The scene in the main compound was reminiscent of a wartime battlefield. Broken equipment littering the floor, water and steam spraying from overhead piping, the floor a mess of oil and blood, maybe an appendage or two here and there, and a few small fires illuminating one Ky Kiske, his immaculate white uniform streaked with blood and grime, holding a quivering terrorist at swordpoint.
It was moments like this that made Sol dearly wish for a camera. A single photograph of Illyuria's blood-splattered rampaging monarch would get every country off his back for the next ten years.
"You done here? Brat's been asking for you."
"Is he alright?" Ky didn't even look away, his eyes promising unspeakable pain to the unlucky bastard on the other end of his sword should Sol answer in the negative.
For a split second, Sol toyed with the idea of actually saying no, before deciding that dinner was really overdue by now. "He's fine, I told you he'd be. Miffed that he couldn't see the fireworks, actually."
"Which you had better not let him see."
Sol rolled his eyes. "You know, his unsullied purity is going to be destroyed the moment he sees you, anyway. Now can we blow up this joint or would you like some help gutting those guys?"
----
He should have known that it was going to be neither.
It was kind of amazing how soon Ky could rediscover his love for humanity and the judicial system once the safety of his insane little family was ascertained. Of course, he would insist on tying up these sorry excuses and dragging them outside for the authorities to take care of, instead of blowing them up along with this hellhole, and no amount of, "But they're gonna be living on your subjects' tax money," was going to convince him to just do things the easy way.
Sin stared in unabashed fascination as Sol dumped the last semi-alive guy on the pile of other semi-alive guys with a resounding "thump" and a chorus of barely conscious groans.
Sol conked one who looked like he was waking up over the head again.
"I'm hungry," Sin said.
"Well, don't go eating these guys," Sol said. "We could have been out of here an hour ago, but your mom is anal like that."
Before Sin could ask for a dictionary definition of 'anal', he disappeared back inside.
----
Sin sat staring at the building for a very long time, kicking his legs and waiting for his parents to reappear. He was bored, his stomach was growling, and he would have really loved to see what they were doing in there, but his father had said to wait outside.
The human pile wriggled slightly, a muffled voice rising from within, "The fu-!"
Sin dutifully zapped the offender into silence.
Suddenly, the ground rocked with the force of an explosion as the bunker was swallowed in a blinding flare. Sin had to shield his face from the wind and dust whipping in all directions.
After a moment, a loud voice pierced the veil of smoke and raining debris.
"Fuck, Kiske, that was never twenty minutes!"
"I thought ten would suffice."
"If I wanted something to blow up between my asscheeks, I'd ask those laughing stock to wire your bed again. If I didn't know better, I'd say you get off on it."
"Nonsense, Sol. And if I remember correctly, it was you who was complaining about 'getting a move on'."
Jumping down from his perch, Sin ran towards his parents. "Mommy!"
Ky stopped, self-consciously rubbing a hand across the front of his blood-streaked shirt, but Sin simply barreled into him. "You're late, mommy!"
"Yeah, 'mommy'," Sol said, "You were having a little too much fun gutting-"
Bending down to return his son's joyful bear-hug, Ky glared at Sol.
"What. Not like the brat doesn't have eyes in his head."
Ky paused, glanced down at the child who was still clinging to his gory self with undaunted enthusiasm, and decided that Sin was probably not scarred for life.
He sighed. "At least stop teaching him to call me that."
"Hey, don't blame me if he's getting the wrong idea," Sol said, grinning. "I mean, you've got the girly hair and the girly clothes and the girly-"
"Murders. Horrible murders."
"Mommy and daddy are fighting again!" Sin crowed happily, craning his neck to see if Ky would make good on his threat, and pouting when he didn't.
Sol stretched, seemingly oblivious. "Well, whatever. Let's get going, I think we've earned ourselves some dinner. Besides..." He glanced at Ky, and smirked. "...we still have to decide where you'll be saying thank-you tonight. After all, your bed's quite destroyed."
His only answer was the snap-crackle of Furaiken discharging.
-FIN-
----
A/N: I like to imagine that this was at least mildly entertaining. Of course, I also like to imagine that I'll one day be queen of the universe, so I might be delusional. C&C is much appreciated. ^^
Authorial blabbing:
- I just love playing with the idea of what's normal for a kid like Sin.
- Yes, fangirl French. Ky's using a more elegant phrasing for calling Sol a "stupid idiot". Hey, at least it wasn't "Je t'aime toujours, mon amour." *gags*
- Yes, I called Ky a mommy. *insert shocked gasps, or not, since this is GG* But I can all too easily see Sol encouraging this mode of address. XD I really hope the Internet feminists won't murder me in my sleep.
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Fandom: Guilty Gear (Overture)
Pairing: Sol/Ky
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Violence, humor, slight AU
Notes: I blame celadonite for making me hatch this particular plot, and twigcollins for encouraging me. It's a loving blame, of course. ♥
Terrorist Activities
When the west wing finally exploded, Sol couldn't honestly say that he had not seen it coming.
The only thing that was mildly surprising was that it had taken them that long to find a way inside the castle and into the royal chambers, but then again, Ky was nothing if not thorough in his security measures.
Although the people of Illyuria adored their monarch to an unreasonable degree, as evidenced by the mob that had tried to lynch the last would-be assassin, Sol knew that Ky's understanding of diplomacy was a little too undiplomatic for the scene of international politics.
Between his adamant refusal to permit the import of goods of dubious origins, his zero-tolerance policy towards any kind of corruption, and his icy rejection of what had been a thinly veiled threat disguised as an alliance proposal, Ky had probably managed to piss off about twenty-five major corporations and a medium-sized country just this week.
On most days, Sol found himself harboring the desire to at least slightly maim Ky for his more insufferable qualities, so it really wasn't a mighty stretch of the imagination that somebody with money, connections and an agenda had gotten his panties in a twist and hired some assassins that weren't completely incompetent-though the fact that they had been busted by a small child somewhat undermined their credibility.
Actually, from the way things were looking, the mission seemed like it had been a resounding failure.
Sol doubted that it had been their objective to kidnap the brat from the very beginning-it just seemed like overkill to demand ransom from somebody who should have been dead if things had gone according to plan. Sol could envision the scene all too easily in his head, because the brat was at that age where all children thought their parents were the coolest people on Earth. He had probably been sneaking around the castle on one of his pretend-Gear hunts before he had discovered the suspicious people attempting to place a bomb in his father's bedroom, and decided he would rather be a defender of justice instead.
The hilarity of a five-year-old armed with a flag charging in on a group of trained assassins was completely lost on Ky, though, who glared in a manner that vaguely expressed his "this is all your fault" sentiments, but did not say anything.
Sol decided that it was better not to mention that the brat was likely also responsible for the bomb going off in the first place.
Ky had the tendency to forget that Sin could leap off castle turrets and the only thing that would end up damaged were the rose bushes below. Imagining his son in the middle of a bomb blast would probably make him snap.
Truth be told, the prolonged silence from Ky's end was somewhat worrisome. When he was agitated, he tended to be very vocal about his displeasure, with lots of pacing, hand-waving and random outbursts in French. But ever since he had returned from calming the shocked and outraged castle staff-and likely dispensing individual apologies and words of comfort to the crying chambermaids, to boot-he had been eerily silent. The last time he had seen Ky this mad had been during the war, and boy had what followed ever been ugly.
A nearby chandelier that had survived the bomb suddenly exploded in a shower of sparks and splintering glass.
Sol looked up from his perusal of the debris. "Relax, boyscout. You're killing the decor."
Ky glared. "I'll relax when I've got my son back, thank you."
Well, at least he was still responding.
"You worry too much."
"And you don't worry enough! They could be doing god knows what to him, he's-"
"He's fine," Sol said, noting that the air was practically crackling with static electricity.
"I'm not talking about his physical condition," Ky snapped.
It was oddly endearing how he selectively managed to forget that this was also the kid who gleefully cheered Sol on when he was carving up Gears, and who was thus not very likely to be permanently scarred by a little violence.
"Between the brat and the assassins, my money is on the brat," Sol said. "In fact, this'll probably be the shortest kidnapping in history. I don't even know why we're trying so hard, they'll be handing him back to us in tears by tomorrow morning."
In retrospect, that had perhaps not been the best thing to say, but Sol still managed to catch the "Espèce d'imbécile!" over the rain of ceiling plaster as Ky slammed the door on his way out.
At least he was back to swearing in French.
----
It did end up being the shortest kidnapping in history, though not by virtue of restitution of the brat.
For once, Sol was glad that the brat had inherited Ky's talent for lightning magic, as the search might have taken longer if not for the rather inexplicable power outage in a small town, which involved the wires simply frying.
Sol had had high hopes for them making it back in time for dinner, but those hopes were dashed by the nature of the secret base, which turned out to be an old bunker with a virtual labyrinth of tunnels and storage facilities. His search was also somewhat hindered by the wailing air-raid sirens and flashing lights, courtesy of Ky's little "distraction maneuver", which had predictably sent most of the idiots running to defend their base, no doubt thinking that the Illyurian army had come for their blood.
A distant explosion rocked the ground, and he could hear some startled yells from down the tunnel. Ky was overdoing it just a little.
Rounding another bend, he ran into a pair of confused guards stationed in front of a thick metal door, and knew he had come to the end of his search.
If being caught red-handed by a small child undermined their credibility, their close-combat reflexes left even more to be desired-both men crumpling like paper dolls under one or two well-placed punches. When Sol finally had time to read the faded writing on the door, he downgraded his assessment of their competence to "grade-A morons".
"Power room", the bold print informed him, with a helpful little lightning bolt drawn underneath.
For the life of him, Sol couldn't figure out in what world locking a person with lightning affinity in the power room was a good idea, even if the person in question was hardly as tall as his sword. Shrugging, he nudged over the unconscious guards to look for a key, but didn't find one.
Ah well.
The door was a disappointment, too, the first kick denting it inward, the second one ripping it off its hinges and sending it flying into the room in a cloud of smoke and paint fumes.
It was kind of a shame Ky wasn't here to see the face of the child he had been fearing would be traumatized by a little abduction. Then again, if he were here, he would most likely lecture Sol for his unsafe jailbreaking methods.
Either way, Sin, shackled to the wall with what appeared to be several inches of industrial-strength steel chain, was positively sparkling. "Pa!"
A few feet away stood the sizzling remnants of what had to have been the emergency power generator, once upon a time. "Your handiwork, kiddo?"
"Un!"
Sol nodded appreciatively. "Nice going. Now we'll just have to teach you how to gnaw through those chains."
He bent down and snapped them off the pipe they were attached to, then paused. "...How many tries did it take to tie you down, anyway?"
"Three," Sin said, holding out his hands for him to unwind the chains.
"Only three?"
The kid pouted. "I was inca... inca... outnumbered!"
"'Incapacitated'."
"Oh yeah!"
"That word doesn't exist in my vocabulary. Now c'mere."
Sin allowed himself to be lifted, arms wrapping around Sol's neck. "Where's mom?"
Sol grinned. "Discharging his mama-rage on the rest of those small fry. Don't see why he needed my help, anyway, when half the base is already on fire."
"I wanna see!" Sin demanded enthusiastically.
"Like hell, he'd have my hide," Sol muttered. "Speaking of which..."
Shifting his grip, he managed to shrug out of his jacket and dumped it over Sin's head. Sin let go of his neck to push the red fabric aside, scowling at him in disappointment.
"Try all you like, brat, I know the inventor of that look. You're keeping that on, I'm not giving up my bed privileges for your entertainment."
Sin's scowl reluctantly disappeared beneath the jacket again.
"Good. Then let's get out of this dump."
Backtracking through the maze was a lot faster, thanks to the occasional body working as a signpost. Fighting with a kid hanging onto his neck was definitely a new experience, but Sin barely even twitched whenever he let loose with a gunflame.
Once they were a ways away from the bunker, he set him down and pulled off the jacket, revealing Sin's still miffed expression.
Sol waited for a moment, then sighed. "You stay here. I'll go fetch the nutcase."
----
Finding Ky was easier than it had any right to be; he just had to follow the screams.
The scene in the main compound was reminiscent of a wartime battlefield. Broken equipment littering the floor, water and steam spraying from overhead piping, the floor a mess of oil and blood, maybe an appendage or two here and there, and a few small fires illuminating one Ky Kiske, his immaculate white uniform streaked with blood and grime, holding a quivering terrorist at swordpoint.
It was moments like this that made Sol dearly wish for a camera. A single photograph of Illyuria's blood-splattered rampaging monarch would get every country off his back for the next ten years.
"You done here? Brat's been asking for you."
"Is he alright?" Ky didn't even look away, his eyes promising unspeakable pain to the unlucky bastard on the other end of his sword should Sol answer in the negative.
For a split second, Sol toyed with the idea of actually saying no, before deciding that dinner was really overdue by now. "He's fine, I told you he'd be. Miffed that he couldn't see the fireworks, actually."
"Which you had better not let him see."
Sol rolled his eyes. "You know, his unsullied purity is going to be destroyed the moment he sees you, anyway. Now can we blow up this joint or would you like some help gutting those guys?"
----
He should have known that it was going to be neither.
It was kind of amazing how soon Ky could rediscover his love for humanity and the judicial system once the safety of his insane little family was ascertained. Of course, he would insist on tying up these sorry excuses and dragging them outside for the authorities to take care of, instead of blowing them up along with this hellhole, and no amount of, "But they're gonna be living on your subjects' tax money," was going to convince him to just do things the easy way.
Sin stared in unabashed fascination as Sol dumped the last semi-alive guy on the pile of other semi-alive guys with a resounding "thump" and a chorus of barely conscious groans.
Sol conked one who looked like he was waking up over the head again.
"I'm hungry," Sin said.
"Well, don't go eating these guys," Sol said. "We could have been out of here an hour ago, but your mom is anal like that."
Before Sin could ask for a dictionary definition of 'anal', he disappeared back inside.
----
Sin sat staring at the building for a very long time, kicking his legs and waiting for his parents to reappear. He was bored, his stomach was growling, and he would have really loved to see what they were doing in there, but his father had said to wait outside.
The human pile wriggled slightly, a muffled voice rising from within, "The fu-!"
Sin dutifully zapped the offender into silence.
Suddenly, the ground rocked with the force of an explosion as the bunker was swallowed in a blinding flare. Sin had to shield his face from the wind and dust whipping in all directions.
After a moment, a loud voice pierced the veil of smoke and raining debris.
"Fuck, Kiske, that was never twenty minutes!"
"I thought ten would suffice."
"If I wanted something to blow up between my asscheeks, I'd ask those laughing stock to wire your bed again. If I didn't know better, I'd say you get off on it."
"Nonsense, Sol. And if I remember correctly, it was you who was complaining about 'getting a move on'."
Jumping down from his perch, Sin ran towards his parents. "Mommy!"
Ky stopped, self-consciously rubbing a hand across the front of his blood-streaked shirt, but Sin simply barreled into him. "You're late, mommy!"
"Yeah, 'mommy'," Sol said, "You were having a little too much fun gutting-"
Bending down to return his son's joyful bear-hug, Ky glared at Sol.
"What. Not like the brat doesn't have eyes in his head."
Ky paused, glanced down at the child who was still clinging to his gory self with undaunted enthusiasm, and decided that Sin was probably not scarred for life.
He sighed. "At least stop teaching him to call me that."
"Hey, don't blame me if he's getting the wrong idea," Sol said, grinning. "I mean, you've got the girly hair and the girly clothes and the girly-"
"Murders. Horrible murders."
"Mommy and daddy are fighting again!" Sin crowed happily, craning his neck to see if Ky would make good on his threat, and pouting when he didn't.
Sol stretched, seemingly oblivious. "Well, whatever. Let's get going, I think we've earned ourselves some dinner. Besides..." He glanced at Ky, and smirked. "...we still have to decide where you'll be saying thank-you tonight. After all, your bed's quite destroyed."
His only answer was the snap-crackle of Furaiken discharging.
-FIN-
----
A/N: I like to imagine that this was at least mildly entertaining. Of course, I also like to imagine that I'll one day be queen of the universe, so I might be delusional. C&C is much appreciated. ^^
Authorial blabbing:
- I just love playing with the idea of what's normal for a kid like Sin.
- Yes, fangirl French. Ky's using a more elegant phrasing for calling Sol a "stupid idiot". Hey, at least it wasn't "Je t'aime toujours, mon amour." *gags*
- Yes, I called Ky a mommy. *insert shocked gasps, or not, since this is GG* But I can all too easily see Sol encouraging this mode of address. XD I really hope the Internet feminists won't murder me in my sleep.
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