Time of the Turning

Chapter Three

Libra had heard of the Hel Club's reputation and had changed accordingly, trading her white leathers in for black and forgoing her trench coat entirely.  She couldn't help but notice that Aries seemed nervous.  "You don't have to come in with me," she told him quietly, reaching up to grasp his shoulder reassuringly.

"No, that's all right.  I'll come."  The contact only added to his unease.  If he was recognised, he would be lost.  Working for the Merovingian was preferable to deletion, but Aries was unwilling to commit himself, in spite of the promise he had made whilst sky-bound.  His attire change had been so drastic as to even change his hair colour.  He was now garbed similarly to Libra, his hair a gelled sweep of jet black.

"If you're certain," she told him with a small smile, leading him into the elevator.  At the bottom, she obediently handed her matched Springfields to the program in charge of the weapons check, hoping Aries wouldn't cause a fuss over the no weapons rule.

Aries managed to stop his hands trembling as he handed his twin guns over.  He was sad to see the Colts go, but he wanted to make a good impression.  Who knew, after she saw the Frenchman he might have a chance…

Libra took his arm and led him down the stairs into Hel.  She kept a carefully blank expression on her face as they waded through the gyrating humans, her face betraying none of her irritation at the pounding 'music'.  "Which one is the Merovingian?" she whispered to Aries.

"On the low balcony," muttered the Ram.  "See the older guy in the black suit?"  He was careful not to look for more than half-second glances. 

Libra's eyes flicked up for a moment before returning to her companion.  "Yes.  That's him?"

"Yep."  Aries looked directly at her.  "To be honest, I have no desire at all to go up there."  He berated himself mentally.  Coward…

"I'll be fine," she told him, her hand running down his arm to take his hand and squeeze it.  "I probably won't be down for awhile, so you can go back to Stinger-Tail if you want.  Take care."  With that, she made her way through the dancing crowd, heading for the spiral steps towards the man who would lead her to Virgo.

Aries watched her go, his heart sinking.  Shit... Now you've blown it.  A couple knocked into him, and he elbowed them back tetchily.  He kept his eyes on Libra until her small form was out of sight in the near-orgy, then ducked down and vanished from view, weaving back to the coat check and the relative safety of the street.

Libra went up the stairs, expecting at any moment to be challenged.  Sure enough, identical forms blocked her path upwards.  Two tall, ghost-white men looked down at her and leered simultaneously.  "What have we here?" said one, a hissing behind his voice. 

She glared back at them.  "Castor, Pollux, lovely to see you two again," she said softly, her voice heavy with sarcasm.  Despite their similarity in appearance and function, Libra was not fond of Gemini, and they were not fond of her.

"The pleasure is ours."  The whisper cut through the noise as though the Twin was shouting. 

"We assume you are here to see him?" asked the other, arching a pale eyebrow slightly.

"Why else would I be here?" she replied, mirroring his expression.

"To dance," put in the second one. 

"We have never seen the Scales move," quipped the first.

"And you won't," she told him.  "Now get out of my way."

They made a sound of disapproval.  "Ask nicely now.  Surely the Fall didn't burn off your manners?"

"I have only displayed manners around Virgo and Phoenix, and both of you know it."  Much more of this and she would phase through them.

"Ah, then you are here to return to your mistress?"

"Like a dog," added the other one.  It was impossible to tell them apart.  "Very well, we will escort you to him."

"Follow."

She snarled quietly, but followed them.  The dog comment rankled, she'd have to get them back. 

The Twins led her across and parted like a mirror image to reveal the Merovingian swilling a cocktail and staring absently over the humans.  He looked around as the movement caught his gaze, and his eyes ignited.  "Well, well, what 'ave we 'ere?"

Hmm, a French accent.  Interesting.  She could tell immediately that this man would demand respect, therefore she would give it to him from the start.  She offered a short bow and answered quietly, "I am called Libra."

He seemed to recognise the name, uncrossing his legs and sitting up a little straighter.  "Is zat so?"  A pause; his head tilted upwards slightly.  "Am I right in thinking that you came 'ere to… return?"

"If what I have been told is true, then yes."

The Merovingian laughed briefly.  "Zen this will make more time for me to execute some ozer commands.  I am told you, ah… protected z' constellation Virgo when you were sky-bound, correct?"

Libra nodded; it had been common knowledge that the Scales had assigned herself the task of guarding the Maiden. 

"And you want to resume your purpose?"  One eyebrow rose. 

Wary, she nodded once more.

"Excellent.  Well, what can I do except offer you a place in my ranks?  Z' agreement is simple: I provide you wiz protection from z' Agents of z' System and a safe place to hide in, and you provide me wiz whatever services you can offer.  What can you offer?"  He knew very well, but he wanted her to spell it out.

Libra was confused, but found herself explaining that she was similar to the Twins in terms of the ability to dematerialise and reform.  She was programmed with a variety of martial arts and long-range combat, and had also downloaded some knife-fighting techniques for her switchblade.  She admitted that she phased slower than either Twin, but despite this and her small frame, it was clear simply from the way she held herself that she was a practised fighter and would give her life to protect her Mistress.

The Merovingian listened to all this with half his attention, nodding every now and then.  Yes, she would do.  What he had begun to plan would require Persephone to have some sort of protection, and the Balance was perfect, so to speak.  The tall Twins for him, and the small Scales for her.  Two birds with one stone, since his wife had asked for the little program to be found, and she had come straight to him. 

"Bien, zat will do."  He took a sip of his drink and made her wait until the silence started to become uncomfortable.  The DJ changed the CD.  "You wouldn't happen to know of any other programs running around out zere, would you?" he asked, in what he hoped was an off-handed way.

She shrugged innocently.  "If there were, I would not have much to do with them.  I haven't gotten along well with many of them."  She still hadn't forgiven Sagittarius for her role in Phoenix's fall.

"Right…"  She had to be lying: someone must have told her about him.  "Well, I see no reason why you cannot start straight aw— Ah, Wingless.  Zat took you a little longer zan I'd anticipated."

The Chinese man ascended the steps and bowed respectfully.  "My progress was somewhat hindered."

Libra turned at the sound of the voice she knew so well, her eyes widening.  Her heart jumped, but she managed to refrain from running to hug him.  "Ph-phoenix?" she whispered, joy in her face. 

The Phoenix did a minimalised double take, before greeting her with indifference.  "Libra."

The Merovingian's brow rose again.  No doubt Wingless had read the same signs: emotion, more specifically, love.  This would be… interesting. 

Libra controlled herself quickly, turning back to the Frenchman and remaining quiet… though from the corner of her eye she could see several of her old compatriots smirking. 

The Frenchman spoke to Wingless again.  "What do you mean, 'hindered'?"  It was as though he had forgotten she was there.

The Scales listened quietly, wondering what the Phoenix had been doing prior to his arrival.  She wasn't bothered by his greeting; she knew that was just how he was.

Wingless glanced at her again, a slight unease in his body language.  His eyes flicked to Libra a third time behind his shades.  "Two humans got involved.  With your permission," he added, "I would like to run a search on the elder."  He gestured elegantly to his shoulder where the throwing knife had pierced his programmed flesh.

Surprise carved the Merovingian's features into a frown.  "It is not like you to take revenge, my fallen angel.  What iz so special about zis one?"

Wingless remained silent for a minute.  "I believe he has connections," he said quietly.  "I have to be sure."

Libra remained expressionless, but her mind raced.  Connections meant Stinger-Tail, yet what human would be stupid enough to get involved with both Scorpius and the Phoenix?

The Merovingian shrugged.  "All right.  You know where z' terminal is.  I assume the prisoner is safely locked away?"

"She is."  Wingless' posture stiffened, but he mastered himself and de-tensed into his usual alert stance. 

"Merci beaucoup.  You are dismissed.  Actually…"

Wingless rotated on the spot.

The Merovingian smiled slyly.  " Escort the Scales here to her Mistress."

Wingless grimaced.  The Twins exchanged glances — rarely did Wingless ever display emotion.  The Chinese assassin stalked with the manner of Gemini down the staircase and began to cut smoothly through the crowd.  He didn't look back; had he done so, he would have seen Leo staring over the balcony, his raven-black hair flashing green in the neon, grinning at him.

The Merovingian smiled to himself and ordered another cocktail.

Libra had to run to keep up with the taller program, wanting to say something to him but finding that she couldn't speak.  Had she always been this awkward around him?  No, she decided, it was the distance of years that was holding her tongue.

Wingless observed himself.  There was resentment towards the little ghost, and annoyance.  He knew she would have touched him had her sense not kicked in.  Wingless allowed none to touch him, except in combat.  He reached the backdoor and retrieved his key bracelet from his fire-red sleeve, unlocking the fire escape door which technically should have been unlocked already.

Finally, she could take the silence no more.  "Is Virgo well?" she blurted, unable to stop herself. 

"Yes, although she is now called Persephone.  You will refer to her by that name.  You will need to discard your star name as well if you are to remain here."

Persephone… Libra mentally tried it out, then nodded.  It did suit her better than 'Virgo'… but… discard her star name?  What other name could she take?

Wingless lead her through the door and into an ornate room which certainly did not belong to the back of a club.  He took her down a series of corridors and finally stopped outside a double oak door painted red.  "Go in.  Your mistress has been waiting for you." 

What was that?  A kind word to Libra, of all programs?  He shook his head and without another glance to her, departed back the way he had come.  Libra pushed the door open to find the Maiden sitting in a darkened room with a glass ceiling, watching the stars.  The little program's breath caught in her throat, then she whispered, "Virgo?"

The lady turned, her eyes focusing on her former companion.  "Libra!"  With a soft cry of joy, Libra ran to her mistress, enveloping her in a tight hug.  Persephone clasped her guardian close, laying one hand against her white braid as Libra whispered, "I feared I'd not see you again…"

"It is all right now," Persephone assured her, stepping back to look over the lost constellation.  Libra remembered herself and bowed, eliciting a laugh from the Maiden.  She made room for Libra to sit beside her so that they could catch up.

Wingless paused as he ascended the stairs, listening to the happy chatter from the room where he had left the Scales.  As he tilted his head upwards, he heard piano music, and he shook his head.  When would Cujo — formerly Lupus — ever twig that he never was, and never would be a musician? 

The Fallen One moved swiftly, choosing a room with only a desk and a computer terminal.  He seated himself and launched the search engine into the Merovingian's data files, focusing all his concentration on the screen.

The sugar packet made a small noise as it fell to the uncarpeted floor, drawing the attention of a young man sprawled nearby on a sofa.  He glanced from the pages of his book to the white rectangle on the floor, then from there to the front door.  Looks like Cue's back.  He laid his book on the table and rose, scooping up the sugar packet and tossing it back into the air as he went to unlock the door.

The packet never came back down.

"You better not have wrecked my car," were the words he greeted his flatmate with. 

Cue grumbled.  "I've never wrecked your car," he informed the older man, then added, "Arin's spending the night," as the girl appeared beside him.

Arin grinned at Cue's flatmate, a scrawny, twenty-something bookworm.  "Hi Sparrow.  Read anything interesting lately?"

"A law that states all must refer to me as 'Hawk', not 'Sparrow' on pain of death," the Sparrowhawk grinned back.  "Nice to see you again, kid."  His eyes narrowed as he saw Cue's swollen wrist, though he quickly resumed his normal smirk.  "There should be some leftover pizza in the kitchen, if you're hungry," he told Arin.  "Just don't smack into the Early-Warning Device."

Arin laughed.  "What was it this time?"  The flat used to freak her out with its random acts of… randomness, but she had grown used to it.  She plucked the packet out of the air and examined it, part of her searching for the wires, the other part cowering under a duvet.

"That," Sparrow told her before lowering his voice to talk to Cue.  "What the hell happened to your wrist?"  Cue explained quickly in low tones; on hearing the name 'Wingless', Sparrow paled considerably.  "He's in England!?"

Arin found the box of pizza and plucked a slice, peeling off the peppers.  She heard snippets of conversation from the front room, and she sat a little straighter on the sofa at Sparrow's alarm. 

"You know him, Sparrow?"  She reappeared at the doorway, the pizza slice forgotten in her hand.

"'Know' isn't the right word," Sparrow replied.  "I… encountered him once, before I came to England."  He shuddered.  "I am so glad I'm not on his bad side."

Cue carefully eyed the ceiling and whistled innocently; Sparrow's mind was racing.  He strode to his computer; with any luck he could have Cue's records altered before the hour was up.

"Sparrow... Is it a really bad thing to be on Wingless' bad side?"

"Very bad," he told her, glaring at Cue. 

The girl looked pensive.  After a pause she looked at between both and said quietly, "I don't want to go back home until all this is sorted out.  I'm scared, Cue..."  She crossed the room to him and stood close.  Cue knelt down and hugged her, glaring at his flatmate over her shoulder.

"Relax," Sparrow said, not at all looking repentant.  "Wingless doesn't target kids; that isn't his style."

"Oh, I feel a lot better now I know Cue isn't safe," she said sarcastically.  Sparrow could be a very infuriating individual.  "What are you doing?" she questioned, releasing her big brother and looking towards the screen. 

Irritatingly, he closed the window.  "Nothing you want to know about."  This translated into 'something illegal'.  He rolled his shoulders and stood.  "I'm running down to the vending machines, anyone want anything?"

Arin was about to ask for a Dairy Milk bar, but a sudden sharp pain assailed her forehead.  She gasped in pain and clapped her hands to her head, the slice of pizza falling to the floor… where it floated several inches above the laminate. 

Automatically, she looked to the door, dread sending a shiver up her spine.  There was the sound of unlocking, and the door swung open to reveal Wingless, as impassive as ever.  Only his clenched fists gave away his purpose.

"Shit," said Sparrow and Cue simultaneously.  Cue rose to his feet, stepping in front of Arin.  Sparrow, on the other hand, tried to step away.

"Quentin Greene, we have a score to settle."  The assassin's gaze swept the front room, alighting on Sparrow.  "How nice to see you again, Dmitri Bauer.  I trust you have learned your lesson?"

Both men's eyes widened at the use of their real names.  Sparrow recovered quickly however, retorting, "You've not seen me again until now.  I should bloody well think I've learned my lesson."

Wingless grinned.  "Language," he chided, "There are children present."

"Who are you?!" burst out Arin, taking this as her cue. "And how do you know their names?"

"Child, you would not understand if I were to explain."

"Try me." 

Wingless made a strange kind of half smile.  "Now that would be interesting."

"She doesn't need to know, Wingless," Sparrow growled.  Cue was manoeuvring so that he was completely blocking Arin from the line of fire while Sparrow glared at the intruder. 

Wingless turned.  "Does the Sparrow know?  Would it sing if I… persuaded it?"

Arin couldn't stand his cat and mouse games.  "Push off!  You have Miss Calloway, what do you want with us?"

"I want to give you something.  Not many have managed to harm me, and I want to reward both of you for it."  Wingless faced Cue and ceremoniously pressed his fist to his palm.

Arin blanched.  "Cue…"

"Leave her out of this," Cue snarled, one of his knives seeming to appear in his good hand.  Arin was yanked out of the way by Sparrow, her eyes never leaving her brother.

Wingless assumed his favourite stance and circled, forcing Cue around so that his back was to the wall, monitoring the tension in his good arm.  Cue suddenly remembered the guns Scorpius had sold him, and immediately began planning a last resort defence involving them.  He'd have to be quick; Wingless was a fast little bastard.  The teen fell into a defensive stance, his eyes never leaving his opponent.

Always the first to strike, Wingless batted the knife hand out of the way with a roundhouse kick and attacked.  Cue ducked aside, moving swiftly to avoid the blows as he slashed upwards at Wingless' stomach. 

Wingless flipped into a walkover to avoid the knife strike, going on the defensive for a few moments.  His fist shot out and with a good sharp twist, disarmed Cue and took the knife for himself.  He flipped it into the air and caught it with his left hand, mimicking Cue exactly.

Cue's eyes narrowed as he saw Wingless mirroring his stance.  Ah, well, at least in a knife fight he stood a chance.  He drew a second fighting blade, moving his right hand experimentally at the same time.  A sickening flash of pain told him that using that hand would be a BAD idea.

Wingless noticed his features twist slightly.  "Does it hurt?" he asked mockingly. 

"F— screw you," Cue snarled, changing his phrasing slightly to spare Arin's ears.

Sparrowhawk, meanwhile, was attempting to urge Arin out the back way.  Arin wriggled under his grip.  "Sparrow, we have to help Cue!"

"Cue can help himself," Sparrow said urgently.  "I don't think Wingless will kill him."

Arin persisted.  "I've had something to do with this too, I can't leave niisan to take all the rip!"

"Sure you can," Sparrow urged, keeping an eye on the fighters.  "It's the smart thing to do, and Cue's too stubborn to roll over and die."

Wingless smirked.  "Have you told your 'little sister' about the incident yet?"

Arin stopped dead still.  "…what?"

Cue blinked.  Incident?  What incident could he… oh.  Fuck.  His face paled as he realised which incident Wingless was referring to.

Wingless raised an eyebrow, sensing he had struck home.  Words were as good as any weapon in certain circumstances.  "So you haven't?"

Arin went cold.  "Cue, what does he mean?"

"Shut up," Cue hissed at Wingless.  Sparrow sensed danger and split, giving up on taking Arin with him.

Arin watched Sparrow disappear towards the fire escape, knowing she should follow.  Her curiosity rooted her feet to the spot, however, and she bit her lower lip in anger as Wingless turned his head to her.  "I'll give you a choice, Quentin.  Either I tell your sister about the incident, or you let me take my revenge physically.  On both of you," he added, privately wondering if he had the mettle to harm the girl.

Cue snarled.  "That was a long time ago and I paid the price for it.  It has nothing to do with this, and I will die before I let you touch her."

Arin paled.  If she'd gone with Sparrow, Wingless wouldn't have mentioned 'the Incident'… Despite what Cue said, she wasn't going to let him die, which meant she'd have to keep Wingless from touching her.  

"You've not chosen," observed Wingless, gripping the knife handle in readiness.  "I do not wish to kill either of you, but I will do it if you annoy me further."  The assassin didn't want to kill?  Wingless blinked behind his shades, surprised at himself.

"What difference does it make now?" Cue growled, defeated.  "Tell her, if you wish."  She would have found out sooner or later anyway… Cue wouldn't look at Arin.  He couldn't.

Wingless actually hesitated.  Arin's gaze bored into his skull. 

He didn't say anything more.  Taking advantage of Cue's distraction, he struck him across the face with the knife handle, then drove the blade deeply into his shoulder, replicating the wound he had received earlier in the evening.  Arin's scream tore into Wingless' mind like a slice of ice.  Without a glance to either of them, he sprinted to the door and exited the way he had come.

Cue slumped to the floor, his back to the wall.  I got off easy, he thought.  That had been far too close, and now Arin would surely want to know about… about that.  Damn that Wingless!  And damn that coward the Sparrowhawk for not taking Arin with him!

Cue couldn't help but wonder, though, how Wingless had know both his real name and… that.  Those records were securely locked away!

Arin didn't move for a second, her eyes transfixed by the blade protruding from her big brother's shoulder.  Without a word she ran to the cordless and dialled 999 for the second time that night.  She had gone very pale, and her fingers trembled as she dialled.  "They'll ask questions," she whispered, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"I'll answer.  Again."  He wrapped his fingers around the handle, rethought his action, and let go.  No need to make it worse. 

Again, Arin spoke briefly, forcing the details out.  She hung up at last and let out her breath in a long sigh.  She seemed to wake up, and scuttled across to where Cue was.  She didn't know what to say: there were so many things she had to ask… someone.  Cue would probably be taken to the hospital to be patched up; God knew where Scrawny-Sparrow was.  So what would happen to her?  She shivered at the thought of spending the night here alone.  "I'll probably have to go home," she said dejectedly.

"No way in hell," he replied.  "I'm keeping you with me."

Arin smiled weakly.  "Oh good..."  Well, they had about ten minutes before the ambulance would get there...  "Cue..?"

"Yeah?"

A pause: her courage fell.  "Does that hurt?" she asked, deflated.  I'll ask him later...

"You want to know what he was talking about, don't you?"

Another pause, longer than the first.  "…Yeah."

Cue was silent for a long moment.  "He was talking about my first conviction," the young man said at last.  "The murder conviction."

Arin swallowed again.  "You killed someone?"  Her life was beginning to come apart at the seams, and now there was a rip right down the middle.

"Yes.  I was… very young."  He sighed.  "I did it to save my mom."

"What happened?"  Her tone was curious, as though it were a pool game they were discussing.  She sat beside him cross-legged.

"I came home from school to find my uncle beating my mother."  His tone was distant, as if he was discussing something that had happened to someone else.  "She – wasn't moving.  I tried to get him to stop, but he just threw me aside.  Then I saw the gun."  A pause, then silence.  "I killed him.  I wasn't even trying to, but I did."

"Do you regret it?"

"No.  Never have."  Cue looked at the ceiling.  "He nearly killed my mother, Arin.  She was all I had."

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.  Her thoughts turned to her own mother.  "Wonder where she is now…" She stopped and looked quickly at Cue.  Why'd I say that out loud?!

He wrapped his good arm around her shoulders.  "I don't know, kid.  I haven't seen her since they moved me into rehab.  I suppose she's doing better now."  Silence fell, then he said softly, "Arin, if the police come again, I want you to tell them you were in the kitchen and that you stayed there.  I want to leave Wingless out of this as much as I possibly can.  I don't think he'll be back, and I'd rather not give the bastard reason to come back."

He grimaced in pain.  "I can blame the runners; Sparrow-the-Idiot mentioned they came around yesterday." 

Arin nodded.  "Okay.  I'll say I saw nothing, and that I came out when I heard the door shut." 

Something occurred to Cue.  "Don't blame Sparrow for booking it," he said quietly.  "He told me about his encounter with that guy.  That Wingless is the only man I know of that actually scares him." 

Despite Cue's defence of Sparrow, she was furious with him for not sticking around to help, or even running to getting help.  "Scared or not, he should have helped his friends," she muttered.

Cue smiled.  "The problem with our songbird is that he deals in information.  This makes him very valuable to many people, in several different ways.  Odds are there's a price or five on his head.  If he annoys someone like Wingless enough, well…"

"I don't want to know what will happen to him, do I?"  Arin sighed.  "You know before at the riding school I was beginning to think my life had settled down again.  Now I don't know whether I'll ever see Miss Calloway ever again, and…"  she broke off.  It was too painful to consider losing Cue.

His arm tightened around her shoulders protectively, then he paused and asked, "Arin, you think you could get me some water?  I'm not sure if I should be moving."  When she'd vanished into the kitchen, he swiftly took his new guns from his jacket and used his foot to slide them under the sofa.  He couldn't afford to be caught with illegal weapons, not with two strikes against him.

Arin glanced out of the window for any sign of Sparrow.  Sure enough, the car was gone.  She clenched her teeth for a moment, then filled a glass from the tap.  Concentrating on not spilling a drop, she carried it carefully back to Cue.

"Thanks, kid," he smiled, taking a sip.  Surprisingly enough, it made him feel a bit better – the sharp pain in his shoulder, added to the dull throb in his wrist, was enough to make him nauseous.   He eyed the blade in his shoulder, frowning.  "My knife, my stance, my stab… what is this guy saying?" he muttered.

"I don't know, but it's creepy."  Arin had a thought and doubled back for a bundle of kitchen roll.  Trying to see the blood as red paint, she gingerly mopped up Cue's shoulder, taking care to avoid the knife handle, which she was thinking of as a paintbrush.

Cue carefully hid a wince and smiled at her.  "Thanks, Arin.  Don't know what I'd do without you." 

"Same — I don't know what I'd do without you."  The headache was back, steadily throbbing with her racing pulse.  A wave of angry pain crashed against her skull, and she clutched her forehead.  "Ow!"

Cue frowned, concerned.  "Arin, what's wrong?"  He recalled the last time her head had hurt, and his eyes flew to the door.  Not that bastard Wingless again…, he prayed silently. 

"Headache… I'm probably overtired."  She managed a smile.  Then the sugar packet fell from the ceiling again.  Arin crawled to it and tossed it up again, where it hovered near the doorframe. 

Cue relaxed.  "I s'pose the ambulance is here.  About time; I'd like to get my knife out of my shoulder."

Arin smiled again, and went to the front door.  "I hope that strange man in the suit isn't here," she commented, glancing at Cue with her hand on the door handle.

"If he is, I'll handle him.  Feds… gah.  Let 'em in."