Title: Dire Consequences 01/?

Fandom: Viewfinder

Pairings: Mik/Fei, AsamixFei, AsamixAkihito

Disclaimer: I do not own Viewfinder or any of its characters. This is a fanfic and I am not making any profit from it.

Rating: R (for now)

Notes: This is an AU ending for NT. The story is not entirely faithful to the canon leading up this arc and is shamelessly ignoring just about everything that came after it. Comments are more than welcome!

Part 01

The solemn docks were desolate and grey. The sea raged wild and the waves rose to frightening heights, smashing against the shore, only to burst into violent showers of foam before dissolving and leaving the land bedraggled and wet.

Two men stood facing each other— different in bearing as much as in appearance. The distance between them spoke clearly of hostility and mistrust. The elegant stillness of the one contrasted sharply with the unruly brightness of the other and they seemed worlds apart, both in heritage and in bearing. They were like the night and day, facing off in a twilight zone, where neither could claim the higher ground.

Asami was dark, slick and impeccable in his smart, tailored suit. His arrogant, utterly controlled poise was like ice to sunlight when compared to Mikhail's far more casual, less overbearing style and the mop of bright hair that curled unchecked from the moisture.

"I know what you did to him," Mikhail said and his open, friendly face did not match the sharp gleam of his intelligent eyes. "But for the life of me, I can't understand why you never followed through! Such a waste! Success was already guaranteed and all you had to do was reap the rewards!"

"I did not come here to discuss Feilong," Asami said with infinite boredom. "My relationship with him is my business. I see no reason to explain my actions to you." He shielded a lighter with his hand and lit a cigarette. The brief spark of flame flickered and died quickly.

"I am disappointed in you, Asami," Mikhail said. "Your taste in all things has always been impeccable and yet here you are, failing in a spectacular manner over something so crucial. That is what you chose for yourself? Really?"

"Don't you dare pass judgment on Takaba," Asami growled. "You have no right!"

"No," Mikhail said. "Probably not. After all, it is a man's own business who he shares his bed with, but I just can't help myself! It is unprecedented! The great Asami Ryuichi finally lost his cool and waged a full-blown war in the midst of hostile territory for a futile attempt to reclaim a subordinate whose only value is measured between the sheets! I could hardly contain myself when I heard the news; it was almost too fantastic to be believed! I was very eager to meet this new favourite of yours, because surely a creature whose value you deemed so far above his would be a wonder the likes of which the world has never seen! But after all the trouble I went through to arrange a meeting, the result has turned out to be very..." he paused and his lip curled in distaste as he searched for the right word, "anticlimactic."

"This is a personal matter," Asami said. "So, why are you in the middle of it?"

"Because, clearly, the situation calls for an intervention from someone with common sense and I volunteered for the position, since I am so amply qualified for the job!" Mikhail said. " I had always counted on your sound reason to keep Feilong at bay, Asami, but now that you have decided to join him in insanity, I cannot simply stand by and wait until the two of you kill each other!"

"How is that any of your business?"

Mikhail laughed. "Are you kidding me?" he said, highly amused. "How is it anything but my business? Obviously, I won't pretend that I'd be particularly devastated if you were to meet a vicious and untimely end in Hong Kong, since you're hardly one of my favourite people, but the fact remains that you're a singularly difficult man to replace. It has taken me years to establish routes through Japan and any disturbance caused by your death would be most inconvenient. And as for Feilong… Well. Do I really need to explain at this point why any harm to him is simply not acceptable?"

Asami blew out a grey cloud of smoke and glared with cold, narrow eyes.

"You are wasting my time, Arbatov," he said flatly. "Let's get this over with. Make the call."

"Ouch, temper! By God, you are an impatient man! See? I am calling. There is no need to bite," Mikhail said and pulled out his phone. "I am on your side here, Asami! Nothing could please me more than making sure that you fuck off back to Japan and live happily ever after with your cute, little dog, far out of Feilong's reach. How any self-respecting man can choose a pet over a prince will always be beyond me, but it is a fact that your abysmal taste in such things has made my life so much easier and I am very grateful for that!" He grinned at Asami, who inhaled a fresh dose of nicotine and looked on with apparent disinterest. "Hello? Mishka? It is time. He is here." With a smile, he snapped the phone shut and spread his arms in an open, friendly gesture that Asami deliberately failed to return. "Done," he said. "It shouldn't be long now."

Asami scowled, but then his own cell phone rang and he flicked the cigarette, stepping on it with more violence than was necessary.

"Kirishima?" he said. "Is he all right?"

Somebody who did not know how to look for it would have missed it— the brief flicker of emotion that crossed Asami's perfect, placid face like a fleeting shade; the anxiety in his narrowed eyes, the tightening of his full, handsome mouth, the barely visible tension around his shoulders and then the sudden shudder of relief. His hard expression softened briefly when heard what he wanted to hear and Mikhail saw it all— relishing the brief silence that Asami took to process his emotions— one, long, dizzying moment of faltered concentration which was barely enough to observe the human side of the man long suspected not to have one, before his impenetrable mask slid firmly back into place.

"Get him out of there," Asami said calmly. "Call me when you are clear."

"See?" Mikhail said cheerfully when Asami cut the line. "I am a man of my word. The brat has not been harmed."

"You have provoked me quite enough, Arbatov," Asami said, snapping the phone shut. His elegant hands cut a particularly striking figure in the tight- fitting, custom made gloves of supple, black leather, shielding him like a piece of armour and closing the last detail needed to keep his image in place. "Do not try my patience. I am tired of you already."

"I have kept my end of the bargain," Mikhail replied. "I have returned your boy safely to your men. I trust that you will now uphold your part of the deal and hand over the deed."

Asami tossed his briefcase and the Russian caught it. He opened it, his mouth curving upward as he recognized the documents inside.

"I am a man of my word too," Asami said. "I trust that you are satisfied."

"More so than I can say," Mikhail said. "It is always a pleasure doing business with you."

"You are no pleasure at all," Asami replied and pulled out another cigarette.

"Careful, Asami," Mikhail grinned. "I might be inclined to take offence."

"I don't give a fuck," Asami said. "You may have the upper hand now, but mark my words, Arbatov, if you ever cross my path again, you will regret it."

"And here I thought that we could all be friends," Mikhail drawled and Asami scowled in irritation at the undisguised mirth.

"You got what you asked for and we have nothing more to discuss," he said, turning around to leave. "Stay out of my life, if you know what is good for you!"

A dry, piercing wind wailed as if it was mourning and the dark clouds rolled. The first bolt of lightning flashed over the bruised skies like the stabbing of many blades and it was so near, the thunder which followed made the ground shake under their feet. The vengeful tempest spoke of an ill omen.

"Asami!" Mikhail called seriously. "Wait!" Something different in his voice caught Asami's attention and he turned to see him standing there; solemn and composed, the perpetual mischief in his eyes quenched and replaced by something dark and serious. "You know why I want the deed. You know what I am going to use it for. Doesn't it bother you? Doesn't it bother you at all?"

Asami smirked. He had long suspected that Mikhail wore his brashness, his nonchalance as a mask— very much like he wore his own cool indifference— hiding beneath it a dark and complex personality. He was a dangerous adversary and one that was not to be underestimated. Pity for Feilong that he had done so, but then again, he had always been a lousy judge of character. Asami almost felt sorry for his enemy.

"Hong Kong is my past," he said indifferently. "It is my great hope that this time, it will stay there. I don't care what you do with deed. The Triad is your problem now and believe me when I say this, I sincerely hope that you will get everything that you wished for!"

Liu Feilong.

Asami had met all kinds of people in his life, but even in the cesspool of humanity that he waded through on a daily basis, he had never come across anyone else who was quite so dark and so irrevocably preordained for destruction. Feilong was a dragon and his soul was like a well of anger and pain where the water was ink-black and endlessly deep. It had chilled him and he had nearly drowned in that despair, which was so similar to his own. He could not imagine anyone wanting it, but Arbatov was entitled to his own mistakes and he could not be bothered to care.

Lightning flashed and the wind howled. A black limo was waiting some distance away and Asami walked towards it, without looking back again.