Full Title: Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed, Something Blue. I had to shorten it because of the limited character count.

A/N: Okay, this is something that came to my mind for one odd reason or the other. As the title suggests, it has four different parts, each referring to one Doma biker, and one (actually – two) that unites them all. You might be able to guess which refers to which, but don't count on that.

As for the rather weird way Varon speaks – he's barely fourteen in this one and just off the island for heaven's sake! And the last time I checked – jail was not a good manners' camp for boy scouts. So live with it!

Reviews will be most appreciated.

Disclaimer: I know it. You know it. We all know it. And so does Kazuki Takahashi-san.

Warnings: None so far.


Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed, Something Blue

Part 1 – Something Old

Sun was slowly rising above the horizon, spilling soft golden light over the houses of the still partially dormant city. The crystalline blue sky was completely rid of clouds and the day promised to be sizzling hot despite the soft western breeze that was sailing through the streets and playing with the curtains behind the open windows. The streets were almost empty due to the early morning hour, and the traffic was only starting to wake up and gaining force. At first there was only one, then five, then twelve cars and soon enough the city would buzz with life and rush. Honks, screeches, laughing children, beeping signals of closing doors of the public transport, and a new working day could begin.

Cold, emotionless eyes were watching over the lively scene far below. He could do that – the building he was in was one of the highest in San Francisco, and he was standing on the top floor of it. The owner of those cold eyes was very well aware of what was happening in the lover levels of the building, and how could he not be if he had been the one to bring all of this about? The man smirked to himself and turned back to observing the developing rush below. The entire city was at his feet – only metaphorically today, but quite literally tomorrow. His enemies were all gathered in one city, and he would have to scatter them first to get his plan fulfilled. Unfortunately enough, the city they inhabited was not the same he lived in. However, that did not concern him.

Ten thousand years was a long time, he thought, one eye glinting eerie green while the other remained a warm sunflower colour. He certainly could wait a little bit longer if the result was unlimited control over the entire world. And he would start right here, with San Francisco, then move over the ocean to other continents. He could already taste the power he would soon wield, and it was dizzying. Almost like the strong wine the best of his winemakers used to prepare, this intoxicating feeling surged through his veins and mulled his mind. All of his previous grace and royalty was long gone now, and he was the only one to still remain and remember. And for one he knew that power could be equally intoxicating.­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­


On the fifteenth floor, two young men were waiting for the appearance of someone third, who, as they were told, would join them. The time was slowly nearing midday and the most temperamental of the duo, which you would undoubtedly recognize as Amelda, was getting impatient.

"What's taking him so long?"

"Relax, Amelda. He certainly has a good reason for being late," a gruff blonde – without a doubt Raphael – tried to reason, but it was three hours too late for that now. His redheaded comrade's boiling blood had long gone volcanic. The third member – whoever he was – would do smarter showing up now, unless he fancied facing a hurricane el Loco.

As if on cue, the door was pushed open and two heads snapped towards the sound. A small, but to our readers familiar, brunette strutted in, completely oblivious to the grey glare that was directed his way. The same glare trailed him up and down with incredulous scrutiny before its owner turned to Raphael.

"Figures that he would assign us with a child to shepherd."

"Hey!" an indignant voice with heavy Australian accent called out, and Amelda looked up. The brunette was now standing next to his chair and glowering down at him in a manner that he himself found to be very intimidating. With a mental snort, the redhead noted how far that was from intimidating. "Who're you callin' a child?"

Amelda slowly rose from his seat and straightened to his full height, erasing the blue-eyed brunette's seeming advantage. "Obviously, you." His grey eyes were icy now. He was so not going to associate himself with a child. Walking past the foreigner, he addressed Raphael with sarcasm, "He's all yours, Raphael."

The Australian was furious! Not only was the redhead trying to insult him and succeeding in that, but leaving the room, he had also showed him aside, and Varon was tired of everyone pushing him around. That red-haired woman… uh… man is in for it now! Oh yes, Varon needed a double-take to realize that the redhead was indeed a man and not a woman. (The way he walked must have given it out, if you ask me.) Just as the fiery brunette made to follow Amelda, whose name he did not even know yet, someone cleared his throat, and he was forced to remember that another person was present in the room. Slowly, he turned to glance at he blonde male sitting at the long desk.

For a moment the silence was so loud that it jarred their ears. Then Raphael remembered to speak. "I assume you are the person we've been waiting for. And as you might already know, I'm Raphael, and that," a curt nod towards the door indicated the departed redhead, "was Amelda."

"Amelda? Funny name. Ain't soundin' manly."

"And what is your name?" The tone was indifferent, but still partially polite. Raphael was confused. In a way Amelda was right. The brunette was still pretty much a child. He could be no older than fifteen.

"Uh…" Varon faltered. Everyone always made comments about his name. And if it was not the name, then his hair for certain. "Variola," "Varlet," "Broomhead," and "Mudpoodle" were only a few of the "nicknames" the kids at the orphanage had gifted him with. "Varon."

The brunette was positively surprised when no comment followed. But the silence coming afterwards was nowhere near being pleasant. He did not know how to act in a situation like this, he did not know how to get along with the other two and most of all, he did not know why he needed to be with them when he could do everything on his own. Well, perhaps not everything… To make matters worse, his stomach grumbled rather loudly and the Australian felt heat rush to his cheeks.

Raphael merely raised a brow. "I take it, you're hungry."

"Uh…" Varon sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. He had last eaten the yesterday morning and even that had been a lousy jail stew. "Sorta."

Finally gaining back some of his confidence, the blonde stood up and addressed him authoritatively now, "Come along, then." He hoped Amelda would not be in the improvised kitchen or a fight would be inevitable. Somehow Raphael could tell that today's little show had been only a beginning of something he might have to put up with on a regular basis.


­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­So, the ancient power of Orichalcos brought them together once, and the ancient power of Orichalcos tore them apart again. Years later, they would be scattered and all alone again with no point to get, no place to call home, and no one to rely on apart themselves.

And that is where this story starts.


A/N: The fact that this story has four different parts doesn't mean that it has only four chapters. Please, review. Thank you!