Trinity Blood: Shattered Uniformity

Chapter 11: Afterwards

Note: Miraculous revivals? :0 I thought the regenerative prowess of the 100 merged Krusniks was well known!

Note: I can't help but feel as if my writing has degenerated towards the end… I had so many little things going on in the beginning and middle of my story, and if I've disappointed anyone I'm sorry.

About 200 Years Later

(The Eastern Summit, Byzantium)

Seth watched the delegates enter the Byzantium conference room one after another. It stood on the same ground where the Empress had once taken formal messages from the Vampire nobles. Now it was a dark marble room with a circular table.

So much had changed in the few hundred years since Abel's death. The New Human Empire was no longer a single authoritarian body ruled by her sole authority, but now it was a federation of independently run states, most of which were democratically ruled.

In Byzantium, which was still regarded as the Capital of the loose confederation, the changes were the most liberal. Terrans and Methuselah were seamlessly integrated with very little violence between the two groups.

"It seems as if the Nile delegation has finally arrived," said the Duchess under her breath. She was the ruler of Volodia, or what was known before the Armageddon as Ukraine.

Seth smirked at the sight of Ion Fortuna, accompanied by his quaint bride, even in the Summit. In the two hundred years since the events in Albion, Ion had aged to become a tall, messy-haired blond with a serious attentiveness. His features had hardened considerably and his round face had sharpened, but his childlike stubbornness still showed in his eyes. Even at this age, he clung to Michelle like a protective watchdog.

Michelle, a soft-eyed young Terran turned Methuselah, seemed scared enough to always be ready to accept Ion's protection, which he always loved to give. He and Esther had a brief love affair, but she'd never been able to completely forget Abel, and when Duke Erin and Esther married for political reasons, it was more than Ion could take.

But he'd found a new woman. Ion's mating marks shone prominently on her soft neck.

Finally, he had found a girl who needed him as much as he needed her. She waited in the corner, examining the other delegates with suspicion.

The leaders of Cyprus, Ottomia, and Mesopotamia had already arrived, and as expected, the leader of the turbulent Algeria did not seem to be coming.

"Let's begin" Seth announced, rising to her feet. "Duchess, I believe you had something to report."

"Yes," the Duchess began, eying the other delegates from beneath her sharp, red hair. "Reports of rebellion from New-Budapest are leaking in. Vampire loyalists have sent messages of possibly seeking asylum in my country."

"If we were to take such an action," Seth cut in. "We would possibly be seen to have affiliated ourselves with the actions of the Methuselah extremists in South-Italy Ionia."

"We can ill-afford getting any involvement in that mess. It's as if the whole of the Vatican is ripping itself apart," Ion added.

"We've already taken human refugees!" the Duchess pressed. "it would be only fair…"

Cutting the Duchess off, the door slammed open, striking against the walls and rattling in their hinges. A single figure rushed forward, shoes slapping against the cold stone, pursued by a few guards. The guards quickly drew their weapons and aimed before the intruder could get close to the delegates, but the messenger only knelt down, breathing heavily.

"Hold your fire," Seth said.

"I'm here from Ionia. Alessandro wants me to tell you something of great importance…" the messenger gulped with the exertion, parting his lips slowly and exposing his elongate canines for just a moment.

"We've already told him our position of neutrality in the Vatican civil war isn't negotiable," Seth said warningly. Seth had matured in the few hundred years, and had even been approached by a few potential suitors. She'd humored them, but never committed. They always seemed so empty. And diplomatically, she had a warm, yet stubborn demeanor.

"Yes, I know that," the messenger said impatiently, looking up. "He said that the father has been awoken."

The father?

"Is that it?" the Duchess asked softly, but clearly.

"He said you'd understand."

--

(In an underground facility in Northeastern Sicily)

Abel woke up naked, the cool air running past his exposed skin. He felt sluggish, as if awakening from a long slumber. Opening his eyes slowly, he was overwhelmed by the brightness of the pure white room. The sole distinguishing thing about the plain room was a mirror on one side, a pile of black clothes next to him, and a bright light overhead.

Stirring slowly and shielding his eyes from the bright light, Abel sat upright and began to dress.

They'd left him the same black robes of AX which he'd worn before the fight in Londinium. Finished, he examined himself in the mirror.

His features were slightly different than he remembered. His face was a bit more distinguished, and his hair had a very light blond coloration.

He was shocked to attention by a speaker which was mounted neck to the lights. "Am I talking to Abel Nightroad?" he voice asked. He could vaguely recognize it.

"Yes," he called out loudly.

"I'm glad to see you again, father, do you recognize my voice?" the voice sounded light, like a child's but had an adult sophistication.

Abel searched his faded memory, finding that most of his memories were in a blur like someone had taken them and put them in a blender. "I don't know…" Abel said scratching his head. The loudspeaker in the room went silent.

The plain white door at the front of the room opened noiselessly, and a figure, shadowed by the brilliant white light, stepped in. "They told me there was a possibility that you would… no longer be yourself, father Nightroad."

Abel felt the sudden urge to crush the man like an insect. How dare he think to understand exactly who he was, or how he would act? What gave this man the right?

When Alessandro stepped into the light, Abel saw exactly how he'd aged. He now looked like a young man, with long dark brown hair, and had long lost his deer-in-the-headlights demeanor.

"Ah yes, you're the Pope of that little Terran empire," Abel said with a chuckle. His words sounded strange coming even from his own mouth, as if voiced by another and simply broadcasted through his vocal chords.

"Ex-Pope… Pope still to my followers, but they do not constitute much of the Vatican at this point." I see, much has changed.

"How long have I been unconscious?" Abel asked.

Alessandro smirked and began to chuckle. "What's so funny?" Abel demanded.

"You've been dead, Abel. For two hundred years."

"Ah yes…" Abel said, thinking back. He remembered the flames, the tears, the disbelief and anger.

"The nanomachines in your body that make you what you are, a Crusnik, have merged with your body. It's a very peculiar thing. Even when all that makes up your body is gone, the nanomachines reconstruct it. They are your mind, and your mind are they. It would seem that they understand their best path to survival and prosperity is through the form of your body and thus have recreated it on their own accord. It seems as if they house your very soul. We tried introducing these to Methuselah blood, of course, but the Crusnik nanomachines simply devour the Methuselah body like a prey."

"How very poetic," Abel said with a demeaning laugh. He felt like slapping himself. He never remembered being so cold.

"So Esther is dead?" Abel asked softly.

"Yes."

"And Caterina?"

"Sister died of illness just a few years after you did. Either that, or was assassinated, I'm still unsure."

"Assassinated?"

"The coup on Rome came just a few months after her death. She died abroad, mourning at your tomb in Albion. Esther constructed it… your tomb was the center of a large public building. It had child-care, classes for reformed criminals, a library… it's a very beautiful structure which dominates Londinium even today. She named it Nightroad center."

Abel couldn't keep himself from smiling warmly at the gesture, but still, part of him felt angered.

"She married to Duke Erin of Ireland, but it was common knowledge that her first marriage was to that center, and to your tomb. She visited it every day." Alessandro smile, knowing that Abel wanted to know as much as he could.

"They had children. King Abel the second now Rules Albion. He is the fourth from Esther herself."

"I'm moved…" Abel said in a whisper.

"Of course, I had to steal your remains from the center, so King Abel and me currently on the best of terms. They had your remains constantly bombarded by heat and cold to keep them scrambled."

"Why?" Abel asked incredulously.

"Because…" Alessandro considered his next words carefully. "They had no way of distinguishing your nanomachines from those of your brother."

"So that means…" Abel looked at himself in the mirror again, and saw there was more to the change in his appearance than just aging. "That he's within me?"

"Or you're within him, which also seems possible."

Abel suddenly understood his indecision. He bit his lip, and then lunged forward, grabbing Alessandro by the neck and lifting him from the ground. "So now what are you going to do?" Abel muttered. He could feel the hunger rising in him. He bared his fangs and moved in.

--

(In an Airship, heading west from the Byzantium summit)

"Duchess," Yakiv said, kneeling before her. He had been turned a hundred years ago, after having distinguished himself in black operations during the Hungarian power struggles. The Duchess liked to keep her hands in the affairs of her neighbors. She could not afford to have ignorant Terrans war mongering at her doorstep.

"The summit went as I expected, until the very end." The Duchess' heart fluttered in her chest, when she thought about the implications of what the man had said.

"So they rejected the Asylum, then? " Yakiv asked, raising a dark eye from the ground. He always had a dark kind of smirk on his gaunt face.

"Yes, but fortunately for us, the affairs of our own country are our business… the meeting is more just to suggest courses of action. Seth is free to suggest we do nothing when her small state is embedded safely in the bosom of like-minded countries."

"So take the refugees like we planned?" Yakiv asked.

"Yes… take them, arm them, and train them, yourself if need be. We'll send them back into the fray supplemented with our own forces."

"Understood Duchess, your will is my command." Yakiv bowed and walked away, leaving the Duchess alone. She always liked to be alone.

Yakiv parted the black curtain which separated the Duchess' dark room form the rest of the craft, and sat in the chair next to the curtain. She'd always had a haunted demeanor, pushing through things as if in a dream.

When she was awarded control of the Volodian territory after Seth's reforms a hundred and fifty years prior, she completely turned away from her inconsiderate neglect of her country.

Something had changed her. With care and great thought, she enacted programs to modernize the Volodian economy, create infrastructure for clean water treatment roads, and laws which gave Terrans limited rights inside of the country.

When she relinquished control of the country, she was nominated without having to campaign, and elected with a very sizeable majority, and since she had been trudging along, helping the country become one of the strongest and most prosperous in the Eastern Union.

But the entire time, she was consumed with a great depression and sadness. It was the kind of solemn sorrow that drew Yakiv. Through his service, he had been able to get close to her, but unfortunately she always kept him at arm's length just like her own feelings. But he was fine with just going off and doing his dirty work.

He looked back at the black curtain, hoping in vain that his services would earn him her respect.

--

(In the Palace of Albion)

King Abel wrung his hands together, sitting at the large oak desk which Queen Esther herself had sat. A single black feather rested prominently on the corner, in an ornate golden fastening. Beneath it was an inscription.

My love, that I might follow your example.

As much as she created a legacy of her love for Abel, the savoir of Albion, she also warned harshly of Cain, who had nearly destroyed Albion. This is what made the situation so difficult.

Now, Abel and Cain's Nanomachines, which were once locked in constant temperature bombardment in the middle of the Abel memorial were gone, stolen by Vatican separatists, and three guards were dead.

"What are your orders, your Excellency?" Jameson requested.

King Abel the second grimaced. He had no choice. Cain being revived, even in the guise of the kindly priest with which his great great grandmother had fallen so deeply in love, was nevertheless a grave threat to Albion. "This attack by Alessandro and his separatists is a direct attack on Albion itself," King Abel began, knowing the gravity of what he was about to order. "Tell Military Command to bombard Alessandro's forces in Sicily, and then launch a military assault. Tres and the ASW are to retrieve the nanomachines after incinerating … after incinerating… Abel's body." It was a strange thing to do, order the death of someone after which he was named.

"Understood, Excellency," Jameson said, snapping a smart salute.

"Forgive me Esther."

--

(In an underground facility in Northeastern Sicily)

They attached one wire to each limb and had them pulled taut. In Abel's weakened state, it was enough to restrain him. He mumbled softly as one of Alessandro's men continued to administer sedatives.

"Now we know why they never allowed the Nanomachines to reassemble," Alessandro muttered, looking into the face of the Crusnik before them. Was he Cain or Abel? He couldn't tell.

"This was a mistake, we should just incinerate him and send his remains back to Albion," Pamela said, walking up to rub Alessandro's shoulders. Alessandro smiled, and relaxed into her knowing hands.

"We've fought for a long time without him, but he sure as hell would have made things a lot easier," Alessandro said with a shrug.

A man ran in, breathing heavily. "Sir, we got a security breach!" Alessandro turned, and saw that he had been splattered with blood.

"Contain it! Keep a secure exit, we may need to evacuate!" As the subordinate ran off to deliver his orders, Alessandro materialized a blade on his forearm and nodded to Pamela, who hefted an assault rifle. This would not be the first time they'd needed to fight themselves.

The fighting was quickly moving towards them. Just a minute after the messenger had left, Alessandro could hear the sounds of battle in the Atrium of his cavern. "This is it," he said to Pamela.

She aimed her assault rifle at the door, ready.

It wasn't a few seconds after the noises of battle in the atrium stopped that footsteps approached the door rapidly from the hallway. Pamela opened fire with her high velocity rounds, blowing small holes through the door and sending bits of hot lead into the hallway.

She finished her clip, having thoroughly doused the hallway with bullets. Before she could administer a fresh clip, a solid force from the hallway launched the door inwards and made it fly off of its hinges. A tall, lone figure entered calmly.

She was wearing what looked like a small black dress with a cut on the inside to allow for her legs to move easily. They were long and muscular, topped off by black boots. At the top of her solid frame was her exposed neck, showing a cloth pendant which she wore as an amulet. Her face was sharp, and covered with an Order out of Chaos haircut, gleaming red hair parted to both sides of her shoulders, except for a single grouping which hung defiantly down past her nose. Her catlike glowing eyes were rested on Alessandro and her thin, lipstick covered lips were curved in a sharp grin.

"I suggest you don't fight. The others didn't seem to want to listen," she said confidently.

"Speak your piece," Alessandro said suspiciously examining this female intruder. She was definitely Methuselah. No human could have just cut through the best of his forces.

"I'm here to see the father," she replied, pacing forwards.

--

Abel stirred after struggling with the foggy darkness for a few more minutes, and opened his eyes. When he did, he saw someone vaguely familiar staring back at him.

"Who are you?" Abel asked.

"Astaroshe Asran, the Empress of Volodia," she announced, eyes keenly trained on his reaction. They were narrowed, and very perceptive, but they were also soft with something else… was it fear… or was it pain?

Abel, still not able to recall her, just sighed.

"Apparently I loved you," Astaroshe said softly, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

Abel's gaze swept up to her, running over her features. Yes, now he slightly remembered this girl. She had been the first who wasn't terrified of his true form. She also had a commanding presence that made him shiver at times.

"Apparently?" Abel asked.

This time it was Asta's turn to sigh as she prepared to tell her story. "When I passed away in Albion, Seth began working to sustain my body, even though it had already died, delivering oxygen to my brain and bloodstream, pumping my blood, stimulating my dead body with electricity. For some reason she didn't want to see me go, so she did something to me."

Abel already realized. There were many clues. The slight red glow of her mostly yellow eyes, the presence he had felt even in his unconscious state…

"She injected me with some of her nanomachines… that didn't prove to be enough, so she also took some of your nanomachines and Cain's and injected me with them as well. Remember there was enough of them in that pile for two 100-merged Crusniks, yet here you are, alone…"

"But that's impossible," Abel said, narrowing his eyes.

"Yes, they tore up my body, but Seth kept working to keep it from being completely devoured. She introduced the Crusnik cells to portions of my body at a time, and then even made some biochemical adjustments to me, experimenting on herself in the process. My memories were completely scrambled."

"So the fact that I am two bodies in one… that is your fault?" Abel asked. If she hadn't received the nanomachines, Cain and Abel's bodies would have been able to materialize.

"I suppose so," she said with a smile.

Abel lashed against the restraints, letting out a angry yell. Astaroshe growled and struck him in the side of the jaw. The minor concussive force on his brain stem caused Abel to lose control of his body. He regained it, and looked up at her with hate.

She looked down, her own lips rising to flash her canines.

She lunged first, but Abel met her nearly halfway. Their lips connected roughly, hungrily, as if finally getting to eat after years of starvation. Their tongues danced together in the halls of their mouths as Asta pulled Abel close running her hands down his back. He put a hand in her red hair, stroking it, as his other hand firmly clenched her thigh, pulling her into him. The restraints no longer seemed to be a question. They were torn easily from the walls in which they were secured. Abel's senses were afire with passion.

She finally pulled away, gasping. "I waited," she said. "I barely knew who you were, but Seth told me everything and I waited for you for two hundred years… waited for my chance."

"I love you Asta," Abel said breathlessly, looking into her soulful yellow eyes. Those eyes that always seemed predatory, but were only hiding her own tender feelings. When he said this, her eyes went wide with love, and she threw himself into his arms, holding him like she never wanted to let go, sobbing with joy.

Part of him really did love her. The other part knew to use her to get himself out of this prison and on his own two feet again. He didn't know which was more powerful, but he knew for now, he wanted to be with her, Astaroshe Asran. She finally let herself smile, not smirk, or demean someone, but actually smile for herself.

"Come home with me, Abel," Asta said, running a finger over his jaw. "I have a palace waiting, and I need to introduce my people to their new Emperor."

"What about us?" Alessandro asked.

Astaroshe glanced over to him with annoyance. "I think we'll be getting involved in this whole affair very soon…" she said.

--

(Inside the Royal Palace of Albion)

King Abel sat down next to his queen, with a single arm around her, holding her close.

"Empress Seth sent word today, honey," she whispered in her same, shy voice. "She warned us that some of her states would be taking action to get involved in the affairs of Budapest and Ionia. She remains completely dedicated to peace."

Abel squeezed her tightly, pondering the question of Sicily. "If Abel truly has been revived, no army in the world will stop him," he said.

"I think it's time we take the X-nanomachines and put them to use."

During the two hundred years of captivity, some vampire technicians had examined the Crusnik Nanomachines, and attempted to modify Methuselah machines to mimic their behaviors. The experiments had been very fruitful, but the prospect of creating another Crusnik always seemed to be more dangerous than was necessary.

Another interesting prospect they had explored was the possibility of neutralizing the Crusnik cells with chemical cocktails. They'd need every trick at their disposal to wage this war.

"Whatever you do, honey, I'll support you," Queen Claire said, resting a hand on his.