Foreshadow Chapter 1
City of Shadows
By Peptuck3
Here's
the second chapter of my FFVIII fanfic, Foreshadow! Enjoy.
Just to let you know, this chapter includes my view on how summoning is supposed
to work, as opposed to the way it was presented in the game. Its sort of
like the way summoning worked in FFX. This chapter also has some
conspiracy-theory stuff, along with a hint that Garden isn't what it appears
to be in the
game.
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Foreshadows Chapter 1: City
of Shadows
He slipped through the shadows,
moving with the silent grace of a stalking cat. His passage was unseen and
unheard as he moved down the corridor, avoiding the holocams set in the walls
to prevent just such an intrusion. Not that their operators could have noticed
the infiltrator. He moved through the darkness as if he were a shadow himself,
an invisible wraith that human eyes were powerless to
percieve.
He came to a corner as the
corridor turned to the right, and there the infiltrator stopped for a moment
to glance around the bend. With the exception of light spilling from an open
doorway about twenty feet down, this hall was as empty as the previous one.
The silent figure crept around the corner, and paused at the open doorway,
listening with his finely tuned ears as he tried to determine if anyone was
inside. He heard the laughter and chatter of idle conversation, probably
between some of the facility's
guards.
The infiltrator knew that
the revealing light in this room, most likely a small lounge, could easily
betray him to the guards if he continued down the hallway normally, so he
paused for a moment, considering how to move on. The room he was looking
for was just a bit further down this hallway, but he didn't want to risk
revealing himself to the guards, in case they had comlinks. If they alerted
the control room, things could get ugly,
and-
One of the guards strolled
out of the room, interuppting the intruder's line of thought just as effectively
as the intruder's presence had interrupted the guard's walk. The man was
wearing the typical silvery uniform of the facility's guards, though he wasn't
wearing his usual insectile helmet. In his hands he carried what appeared
to be a three- barreled, pistol-sized shotgun with a large pickaxe mounted
on top, a weapon otherwise known as a
shotaxe.
In that instant the intruder's
left hand shot out and grabbed the man by the collar of his uniform and yanked
him out of the doorway, while his right rose up and planted an open-palmed
blow to the unfortunate soldier's nose. Even as the guard's head snapped
back and his eyes watered from the stunning blow, the infiltrator's left
hand caught him by the shoulder and spun him to face the wall, while the
right came behind his head and sent his forehead slamming into the unyielding
metal.
As the guard was dropping
like a bag of adamantite, the infiltrator was moving through the doorway,
hoping to find and disable the others he knew to be in the small lounge.
He spotted a man wearing the white and green robes of a technician, sitting
at a table, and another wearing a guard's uniform, leaning against a wall.
Both were turned to face the doorway, and opened their mouths in surprise
as the black-clothed specter of the infiltrator swept into the room. The
soldier barely got his hands up in a semblence of self-defense when the
intruder's left leg came spinning in low, taking him in the back of the knee,
tripping and laying the guard out flat. The technichian rose and opened his
mouth, which was where the intruder placed his subsequent kick. The tech
was hurled back several feet and slumped to the floor, quite
unconcious.
The infiltrator whipped back
around, facing the prone guard. The soldier rose back up to his feet, only
to take a lightning fast combo of alternating jabs and uppercuts, followed
by a knee to the stomach that doubled the guard over. The infiltrator dropped
his elbow on the back of the man's skull, and the guard flopped down to the
floor.
Two minutes later, the intruder
was back out in the hallway, and the tech and the two guards were tied up
in the now dark lounge. The silent stalker mentally berated himself for his
mistake of forgetting to keep an eye and ear on his surroundings while
considering his next move. If those guards had been wearing their helmets,
or had a comlink in
hand...
The infiltrator shook his
head, putting the self-criticism off until later. He had a mission to
complete.
He paused outside the door
to the room he was searching for. A quick check of the softly glowing letters
floating above the keypad next to the door told him that he had been
right.
"Odine's office," the intruder
whispered to himself as his left hand hovered over the keypad. A faint, blue
light glowed around his hand and the keypad as the cybernetic technology
within his arm hacked through the security. A moment later, the door chirped
a confirmation of his clearance and slid
open.
Silent as death, the ghostly
intruder slipped into Dr. Odine's darkened office in O
Lab.
The infiltrator wasn't the
only one entering O Lab that
night.
The trio of Estharian guards
were quite bored. The soldiers were posted outside O Lab this night, on the
alert for any monsters that might happen by, and so far, midnight had passed
with nothing. The city had been caught off guard when the moon monsters came
down a couple of weeks ago, but after the initial shock, Esthar had brought
all of its considerable military firepower to bear on the creatures running
loose in the
city.
The actual number of monsters
in the city itself was relatively small, compared with the hordes wandering
the plains to the east. The city itself had only been on the edge of the
monster fall, but considering the sheer number of creatures that had come
down, being on the edge was still a disaster. Even with only a fraction of
the monsters that had fallen wandering the city, the hands of the Estharian
military were full. Out to the southeast near Tear's point, where the fall
had been centered, the monsters were everywhere. Many had been killed, destroyed
by other moon monsters, or by native creatures, or even the fall itself,
but their numbers were still immense. The eastern plains would be dangerous
for quite some
time.
But after the military had
been mobilized, the Estharian troops had begun to clear the beasts out of
the city. The capital was fairly safe now, but the possibility of encountering
a monster that had been missed or had wandered in was still very
likely.
Thus, as the guards were
more concerned with a possible monster encounter this night, they were more
curious than suspicious when a hovercar parked on the side of the street
outside O Lab at such a late hour. Four men and a woman got out, and, to
the guards' surprise, walked up to the front entrance to the famed laboratory
complex.
"Hi," the woman, who was
leading the quartet of men, said cheerfully to the middle guard as she
approached. "Is this O
Lab?"
"Yes, it is," the guard
responded. He quickly looked her over. She was young, maybe in her mid-twenties,
and quite beautiful. She had short, shoulder-length black hair, although
streaks of it were dyed purple, and that, added with the fact that she didn't
look like a native Estharian, gave her an exotic appearance. Like her companions,
she wasn't wearing the typical robes of an Estharian citizen, but instead
a black jacket and pants, with a dark shirt. Hadn't he seen some kid from
the west wearing a similar outfit a few weeks ago, just before the
Cry?
"Can we go in?" the woman
asked, almost
pleadingly.
"Do you have clearance to
enter?" the guard asked. He had to follow procedure, after
all.
The woman nodded, smiling.
"Yes, we
do."
Suddenly, her hands twitched,
and a pair of slender, transparent, purple-bladed daggers slid out of the
woman's sleeves. The smile on her face transformed into a malicious grin
as her right hand snapped up into the middle guard's chest, the daggar punching
through the guard's tough armor as if it were paper. The woman's left hand
flicked across, the blade slicing the throat of the soldier to the left.
The third didn't even get to raise his weapon before one of the other four
men had drawn a silenced pistol and shot him between the
eyes.
Though the chest wound would
have killed the first guard in a couple of seconds anyway, the woman yanked
the dagger out of his chest, and then cross-slashed with both weapons over
the dying man's throat, for no real reason except to widen that evil grin
of malicious glee. She then dropped both daggers and grabbed the soldier
by the top of his chestplate, and lifted him with surprising strength. She
turned to the left, stepped over the dying soldier on that side, and hurled
the middle guard off the high walkway, down into the depths of the city
below.
The woman turned back to
her companions, one of which was already planting his breaching charge on
the door.
"You enjoy that too much,"
remarked another of the men, the one who shot the third guard. He absently
twirled his pistol as he waited for their demolitions specialist to finish
his work. The purple-haired woman grinned again as she strode over to her
dropped daggars. She picked them up, and then flicked a small switch on the
hilt. The dagger glowed with a brief purple light, and smoke emanated from
the blade as it vaporized the still- hot blood of the murdered
guards.
As she turned back to the
demolitions specialist, he stepped away from the door, holding a trigger
in his hand. "Fire in the hole!" he muttered as he squeezed the device. The
breaching charge detonated, its design blasting the explosive force through
the door. With a blinding white flash and a deafening boom, the charge shattered
the sturdy Estharian-made door. Without hesitation, the purple-haired woman
strode through the
portal.
As she crossed the threshold
into O Lab, a pair of Estharian soldiers greeted her with raised shotaxes.
One of the guards dropped as a purple- bladed dagger sailed into his throat,
while the other leveled his shotaxe at the intruder. The woman pointed a
hand, open-palmed, at the soldier, and a bolt of lightning roared out of
her palm and blasted the Estharian guard in his stomach, hurling him backwards
to crash into a wall. The woman calmly walked over to the soldier she had
dropped with her dagger and wrenched the weapon free of his throat while
her male companions cleared the entry room. Once they were certain the area
was free of any threats, the woman turned to the guard who had taken the
lightning bolt, and walked over to the fallen
man.
He was still alive, although
it didn't seem he would be much longer. The uniformed soldier groaned in
pain, curling up as he clutched his blasted belly. The woman bent over him
and held a hand out to him, once again open-palmed. Instead of a killing
bolt, however, a shimmering wave of purple and white energy washed over the
injured soldier. The man looked up unbelievingly at the woman, surprised
at the Curaga she had cast on
him.
"I need to go somewhere,"
the woman said calmly. Even sheilded behind his faceplate, the soldier could
feel the woman's cold gray eyes boring into him. "You tell me where to go,
and you won't feel any more pain." She paused, letting the implications sink
in. "Now, tell me where Lab Twenty- Two Aelph
is."
The soldier seemed to hesitate,
and the woman, not feeling very patient, thrust her daggar out, its tip halting
just below the man's
chin.
"Twenty-Two Aelph," she
reiterated. The soldier stuttered for a
moment.
"It-it-its on level f-fifteen,"
he managed to
say.
"Level fifteen?" the woman
asked again. The guard nodded. "I see," the purple-haired woman said as she
took the knife away from the guard's
throat.
She started to rise, then
suddenly came back down, stabbing the man in his stomach. Before he could
even cry out, the woman flicked the same switch on her daggar, and the blade
heated up. The soldier screamed in pain as he felt the searing heat in his
belly. A moment later, the heat was cut off as the daggar's switch was flicked
off.
"Now, where is the lab actually
located?" she asked again, her voice deadly calm. "Tell me, and you won't
feel anymore
pain."
"Twenty-eight," the guard
admitted. "Its on level
twenty-eight."
"That's better," the woman
said as she pulled the purple-edged daggar
out.
Then, her other hand twitched,
and the second daggar came out of its sheath and into her waiting fingers.
Before the guard could even blink, she had slid the daggar up under the back
his skull and into his brain stem, killing the soldier
instantly.
After finishing the kill,
the woman calmly rose and flicked her daggers' "cleaning" switch again, and
returned the weapons to their wrist sheaths. One of her companions glanced
at the dead
body.
"I said he wouldn't feel
anymore pain," the woman said nonchalantly. "Come on, I don't think these
Esthar idiots are going to sit around after the ruckus we
caused."
"Are we gonna take the lifter?"
another man asked, twirling his weapon of choice, a chain with heavy weights
on either end. The woman cast a withering glare on
him.
"Of course not, you idiot,"
she hissed. "Once they wake up to the fact we're here they're going to lock
down the facility. That includes the lifters." She looked around at the men.
"We're taking the
stairs."
The four men groaned, but
they were expecting this anyway. Their leader always enjoyed these frontal
assaults, but there was always a cost. Their legs already ached at the thought
of running up those flights of
stairs.
The stalker navigated through
Odine's files swiftly, knowing that time was not on his side. He had spent
fifteen minutes hacking into the eccentric doctor's excessively protected
computer, and he knew that it would take a while to find the files he needed.
He wasn't sure how often those guards he had decked needed to check in, or
even if they were on duty. And that tech might be expected somewhere soon.
Plus, there was the possibility of a patrol coming across him in the midst
of his
intrusion.
"Come on, come on..." he
muttered as he continued his search. If Odine had hidden the file, it would
take even longer to find it. That was time the infiltrator didn't
have.
Without warning, the infiltrator
suddenly found it. He blinked in surprise, then immediately inserted the
transparent purple disk and began copying the files. As he watched the files
transfer, the infiltrator breathed a sigh of relief. The mission was almost
over.
Then the intruder heard voices
outside, of two
men.
"Hey, there's light coming
out of the doc's office." The infiltrator tensed, dropping into a crouch
behind the doctor's
desk.
"Yeah, I know. Probably working
late
again."
'Hurry up hurry up hurry
up,' the infiltrator willed at the
computer.
"No, I saw him leave earlier
this night. But he might've just left his computer
on."
"Yeah..." the voices began
to fade away, and the intruder relaxed. He noticed the computer was almost
done copying the data, and he put his hand over the slot, waiting for the
disk to
eject.
The computer beeped as it
ejected the
disk.
"What was that?" one of the
men outside
asked.
"I dunno. Let's check it
out," the other said, as the intruder heard footsteps heading for the office
door. The intruder quickly moved away from the desk and beside the doorway,
waiting for the two guards to come
inside.
The electronic door slid
open, and two men wearing the standard uniforms of Estharian soldiers walked
in, shotaxes in
hand.
The closest soldier found
his shotaxe flying from his grasp as a black shape erupted from the shadows
beside him. Before he could react, the soldier was down and out cold, and
the infiltrator was moving toward the second
guard.
The soldier's right arm came
up blindingly fast, swinging the shotaxe at the intruder. The intruder's
left hand snapped under the shotaxe, catching it by the axe haft and deflecting
it up to hit the wall above his head. His right hand balled into a fist,
and the intruder slammed the man in his face, staggering the guard. Before
the soldier could recover, he was assaulted by a barrage of punches and kicks
that left him slumped in the corner, thoroughly
unconcious.
The infiltrator moved out
into the hallway quickly. He had to get clear before any other bumbling guards
showed up. Swiftly navigating the corridors, the infiltrator soon found the
lift tunnel that would take him to the roof of O Lab. Like all other lift
tunnels, the device consisted of a seat large enough for three or four people
that floated through tunnels from one area to another. And also, like all
other lift tunnels, this one was quite well lit. He sat down on the floating
device, feeling ridiculous, since he knew full well that if someone came
across him while the brightly lit floater was sitting still, then he would
be made
instantly.
To his relief, the floater
beeped quietly and began to rise before anyone could come across the intruder.
It moved upward for a moment, then to the left, around a bend, then up some
more. The intruder relaxed, realizing that he would escape without any further
excitement. he closed his eyes and sighed in
relief.
The floater came to a dead
stop.
His eyes snapped back open.
He heard a female voice over the
intercom.
"Attention. This facility
will be locked down immediately. All security personnel report to designated
positions.
Repeat..."
"Its never easy," the infiltrator
growled, looking around the tunnel. The walls were smooth, but close enough
that he could brace against them and inch his way up. Not exactly the easiest
or most enjoyable way to climb. Reminding himself that he had been made,
the intruder immediately put his back to one wall, then braced his feet against
the opposite side of the lift tunnel. Then, he began moving up the smooth
tunnel
walls.
After a couple of long minutes,
the intruder found the tunnel turned to the right. After twisting out of
his chimney-climb, the intruder began walking down the tunnel, toward a bend
about twenty feet down. The tunnel, the infiltrator noted, was tall enough
for him to fit, but not wide enough for him to fight effectively if he was
confronted by guards. Then, as if cued by his thoughts, the intruder heard
voices coming from around the bend
ahead.
"Dammit," he cursed to himself
as a pair of guards came around a bend in the tunnel. He just had to think
that, now didn't
he?
"Why are we in these tunnels?"
one of the guards asked, sounding
perturbed.
"There was a lifter moving
in this area when we started the lockdown. We have to check it," the other
replied.
"Probably some unlucky tech
or janitor," the first guard muttered. "They wouldn't be stupid enough to
take a lifter would
they?"
"I don't-Hey!" The soldier
spotted the infiltrator-not that hard, considering the tunnel was well lit
and he was wearing all black-and raised his shotaxe. Or rather, tried
to.
The intruder actually now
found himself to be glad for the tightness of the lift tunnel, since the
guard couldn't manuver his bulky shotaxe very well in such tight conditions,
and the soldier behind him couldn't get around his companion. The intruder
took advantage of the situation and charged the guards. The lead soldier
managed to finally get his shotaxe up, but by then, the intruder was on him.
The soldier's axe hand was knocked against the wall by the infiltrator's
cybernetic left arm with enough force to break his wrist. Even as the unfortunate
guard cried out, he was being shoved back into his companion behind him.
Losing his balance, the lead guard fell back, and the trio went down in a
tangle. The soldiers tried to extract themselves from the pile, but the
infiltrator, taking advantage of the situation, began hammering away at the
vulnerable guards. One of them managed to send a few punches back at the
intruder, but he shrugged them off and continued with his own heavy strikes.
Even with their hard, insectile helmets, the soldiers were quickly beaten
into
unconciousness.
The infitrator didn't bother
to take their weapons or otherwise disable the pair. He knew time was of
the essence. The guard's cry as he had been disarmed would have alerted the
rest of the facility, unless he was stupid enough to have left his transmitter
off. And since the only reason the pair would have had weapons out and ready
would be if they were searching for a certain black-clad intruder, that
possibility was unlikely. He'd been discovered, and that meant he had to
get out,
fast.
The tunnels were no longer
a safe route to the roof, and that meant the only secure way would have to
be the stairs. At the first hole in the tunnel that would allow him to leave,
the infiltrator exited the lift tunnel. He found himself in a hallway, only
a couple of levels below the rooftop, since a glowing orange holosign right
in front of the intruder stated that he was now on the twenty-eighth floor
and O Lab had thirty levels. He swiftly moved down the now brightly lit hallways,
running and no longer concerned with stealth. The infitrator turned a corner,
and then without any warning, he found himself staring down the twelve barrels
of four readied
shotaxes.
Five guards met the purple-haired
woman and her companions as they stepped out of the stairwell to level
twenty-eight. A moment later, three of them were on the floor, two with purple
daggers in their throats, and the third with his upper body burned beyond
recognition, courtesy of the woman's Firaga spell. The last two charged the
five intruders, shotaxes
swinging.
One of the woman's male
companions intercepted a soldier, drawing a slender saber and facing off
against the guard. The last remaining soldier was tripped up as another of
the intruders whipped out his weighted chain and swung it around the guard's
legs. Even as the man fell forward, the other two intruders fired silenced
firearms into his faceplate, dropping him for good. The saber-weilder quickly
dispatched his opponent with a few deft strikes, and then the intruders moved
on.
After a few minutes of navigating
the corridors, the group located Lab Twenty-Two Aelph. It was unguarded,
which was no surprise, considering the havoc and trail of bodies the group
had left behind them. Not one for subtlety, the woman opened the doors by
driving both daggers into the door lock, the ripping them
out.
The doors slid open, and
the group entered Lab Twenty-Two Aelph. The laboratory was a large dome-shaped
room, filled with various monitors and electronics on multi-level platforms.
Leading from the vatrious platforms were cables that connected to a long
rectangular metal box, ten feet long and four feet wide, in the middle of
the room, the centerpiece of the laboratory. The five intruders quickly
surrounded the box, and began to dissconnect the object from the cables and
electronics. They worked with much more cauton now, in stark contrast to
the manner in which they'd entered the
lab.
After about five minutes,
the group completed the dissconnection process. One of the men pulled a large,
flat disc from his pocket and attached it to the side of the box. he tapped
a button on the disc, and the large box rose up and hovered in the air as
if it were
weightless.
Two minutes later, the group
had returned to the stairwell, two of the men struggling to push the weightless
yet unweildly box up the last two floors to the
roof.
They didn't know that they
had already been beaten
there.
The intruder froze as the
quartet of guards, standing in a line across the corridor, seemed to hesitate
at his presence. The intruder could feel the pair of weapons clipped to his
back belt, and knew he could get them out and slice through the quartet of
guards. However, he was hesitant to use them. They were only there as a last
resort, after all, only for when he was in a desperate
situation.
Like
now.
"Hey, he's not one of them,"
the middle left guard said in surprise. The intruder noted that this was
the second time he'd heard the guards refer to a "them." The speaking soldier
lowered his shotaxe slightly, bringing it just out of perfect line with the
black-clad intruder. It was a small mistake, almost imperceptible, but it
was enough for the skilled intruder to exploit without having to go for his
weapons.
He shot forward at blinding
speed, moving right up to the middle-left guard before anyone could react,
and decked him with a powerful right punch to the face. Even as that guard
was falling back, the intruder spun to his left, his outstreched right hand
closing over the haft of the leftmost soldier's shotaxe. A subtle twist was
all it took to extract the weapon from his grasp and sent it flying down
the corridor. Even as the shotaxe spun away, the intruder was continuing
his left spin, bringing his cybernetic left hand up into a powerful backhand
at the middle-right guard's face. The cyborg arm slammed into his faceplate,
knocking the soldier unconcious before he'd even hit the floor. The last
guard stood
dumbfounded.
In the span of a second,
one guard was down, another stunned, and a third disarmed, all by one
man.
The last armed guard flubbed
out something indecipherable as he swung his shotaxe around and fired a shot
at the intruder. The intruder saw him bringing the axe to bear and dropped
into a low crouch, his rear nearly brushing the floor as the shotgun blast
flew over his head. Before the soldier could move, the intruder stepped forward,
right foot leading. As the foot touched the floor, the intruder shifted his
weight to it while his left foot rose up into a spinning kick that caught
the soldier in the faceplate, hurling him backward into the wall, where he
slumped, out
cold.
Before the infiltrator could
make anymore moves, the guard he had disarmed slammed into his back, attempting
to tackle him and bring the intruder down to the floor. The infiltrator quickly
shifted his center of balance to compensate, however, and the attacking guard
couldn't bring him down. The intruder quickly swung an elbow out behind him,
trying to beat off his attacker, but the elbow couldn't connect solidly at
the difficult angle. By this time, the first guard the intruder had struck,
the man who had lowered his weapon earlier, had recovered and had his shotaxe
in hand. He charged at the grappled intruder, shotaxe
raised.
The intruder snapped his
right foot up into the charging soldier's jaw, the force of the blow actually
lifting the man up a couple of feet before depositing him on the floor. The
intruder quickly brought his right leg down, then back, curling it around
behind this opponent's right knee. He brought the leg forward, tripping his
grappling opponent, who dragged them both down to the floor. As soon as they
hit, the soldier's grip lossened enough for the infiltrator to break free.
In one smooth motion, he rose to his feet, spun around, and planted a soccer
kick to the back of the grappleing soldier's head as he rose into a sitting
position. The force of the impact actually sent the sitting soldier into
a forward roll, and as he came to a stop, the guard was thoroughly
unconcious.
The infiltrator paused to
catch his breath. The fight would have been a lot easier if he could have
used the weapons on his back belt, but these guards were just soldiers, probably
not in league with Odine, and not warranting lethal
force.
After a moment, the intruder
moved on. He located the stairwell and ran up to the rooftop. Upon arrival,
he quickly tapped his wrist, activating the transmitter imbedded in his arm.
The transmitter sent out a signal to his pickup, and he almost immediately
recieved a confirmation. Despite the fact that he would be out of here in
a couple of minutes, the intruder would not allow himself to relax. For all
he knew, a small army of Estharian guards could be charging up that stairwell,
shotaxes
ready.
For the second time that
night, as soon as he thought of something, it
happened.
The door to the stairwell
slid open behind him, and the infiltrator spun around, his hands moving to
the weapons on the back of his
belt.
Instead of Estharian soldiers,
however, there was a young, purple- haired woman and a quartet of men struggling
with a large hovering metal
box.
All of the intruders froze,
quickly evaluating this surprising twist. The infiltrator immediately realized
that these people were the "them" he had heard the guards reffering to
earlier.
"Who are you?" the woman
demanded, a pair of transparent, purple- bladed daggers appearing in her
hands.
"I could ask you the same
question," the infiltrator responded. They two stood there for a few seconds,
eyes locked. Finally, the infiltrator grew impatient.
"Well?"
The woman smiled. It was
an expression devoid of humor or happiness, the infiltrator realized, or
of anything else that a smile was supposed to
contain.
"Illarra," she purred. "And
you?" The infiltrator paused for a moment. He had gone by numerous aliases
over the course of his life, but he wasn't sure if he should use one of them
here. Finally, he decided to go with the name that best described him and
who he
was.
"You can call me
Silence."
"Silence..." Illarra said,
thinking the name over. "Interesting. Well, Silence, I am sorry to say this,
but no one who witnessed our actions this night is supposed to survive to
tell what we have
done."
"Really now," Silence replied,
hands grasping the weapons on his belt. "That's a
pity."
"Indeed," Illarra said. Her
hand flicked suddenly, and a purple dagger whistled through the air toward
Silence's
throat-
-and rang out clearly in
the Estharian night as a metallic bladed battle-fan deflected it aside. Silence
stood there, holding a pair of kinzoku-sensus, bladed fans with short, straight,
narrow blades emerging from the
edges.
Illarra blinked with surprise
at her enemy's prowess, then glanced to the deflected dagger lying about
twenty feet away from her
opponent.
Then the dagger was flying
back to her hand, seemingly of its own accord. It was Silence's turn to blink
in surprise, and then suddenly he found Illarra charging him, purple blades
flashing in a dazzling display of cuts and stabs that forced the infiltrator
back on his heels as he deflected and dodged the purple-haired woman's
assault.
After the initial surprise
wore off, though, Silence regained even footing with the purple-haired woman.
He countered her swift stabs and slices with his own whirling cuts and rakes
with the sliver-like blades of his battle fans. However, like Illarra's initial
assault, Silence found that he couldn't penatrate his opponent's defenses.
Illarra was swift and agile, able to dodge aside or away from any attacks
that made it past the blinding wall of defense and counters she put up with
her
daggers.
Behind them, Illarra's companions
watched in stunned awe as dagger and fan danced and interweaved in the dizzying
ballet of battle, a dance of countering counters and deflections that seemed
to know no end. The only sign of the reality of the struggle were the ringing
and scraping of the two warriors' weapons as they dueled. The give and take
of the battle picked up, the pace quickening. Dagger and fan were now almost
blurs, and the clanging of metal blades now became one long ringing
wail.
And then, without warning,
Illarra leaped back. The spectators were puzzled at what had happened until
they saw a bright stream of blood running down Illarra's left arm. She reached
up and touched the injury, then sent a withering glare at
Silence.
"First blood goes to me,"
Silence said with a
grin.
"Last blood counts for more,"
Illarra replied. Then she, too, grinned. Her daggers returned to their sheaths.
She closed her eyes, then clasped her hands together a couple of inches in
front of her face. Silence watched in confusion. Illarra looked as if she
were focusing on something, like a spell, except that no magic was discharged.
She simply stayed in that focused position, as if
concentrating.
Or
summoning.
From the looks of it, Silence
would be hit by the summoned being's assault in just a couple of seconds.
While being struck by a GF was painful enough under normal curcumstances,
Silence had a particular weakness to magic as a result of a 'treatment" he
had recieved years ago. A GF summoning by a skilled summoner could be quite
fatal for the
infiltrator.
Silence also knew how to
summon Guardian Forces, and he knew that summoning one would normally take
at least a second or two, usually more, depending on how close the GF and
its summoner were. Silence did carry a GF on him, but its connection to him
was unlike most others. Close pairings of a GF and its summoner resulted
in a GF responding quickly to a call, while poor pairings resulted in the
GF usually taking its time to respond to the summoner's request for aid.
Silence's connection with this GF, however, went beyond that normal mortal/spirit
relationship.
Without making a focusing
gesture, without any concentration, without any outward msign at all, Silence
simply willed the GF to appear. It responded without hesitation, forming
out of nothing without any warning, just as the ground before Illarra "exploded"
and a firey, demon-like creature leaped out of the "hole" into the mortal
world.
As Ifrit emerged, it found
itself facing the floating, winged, demonic form of the GF
Diablos.
* * * *
*
"What the hell is that?"
the pilot shouted, pointing toward O Lab as it grew bigger in the forward
sensor window on his
console.
"That would be a pair of
GF's," Kiros, seated behing the pilot, said in response. "Ifrit and Diablos,
I
believe."
"....." Ward rumbled, looking
at Kiros with concern from his spot by the sensors
panel.
"No, I don't know why Silence
would be calling Diablos," Kiros replied. "We told him not to use lethal
force unless he was in very deep trouble. Unless one of the guards protecting
O Lab is SeeD trained and summoned that
Ifrit."
Ward's expression told his
small friend how much he doubted that
possibility.
"What do you think is going
on, then?" Kiros asked. Ward shook his head, signaling he didn't know. Then,
he pointed at the
roof.
"Right," Kiros said,
comprehending. "Pilot, speed up! We need to get there, NOW!" Kiros was pushed
back in his seat as the engines fired up. It took a moment for the Ragnorok-class
cruiser's artficial gravity system to compensate before Kiros recovered,
and as he sat back up, Ward tapped him on the
shoulder.
"What is it?" Kiros asked.
The big man pointed at the radar screen beside the pilot, which showed a
large blip, also heading for O Lab. "Is that another
ship?"
"Yeah," the pilot said. "A
light Corsair-class transport. Its en route to O Lab too." Kiros and Ward
exchanged a significant
glance.
"....."
"Yeah, fire up the guns,"
Kiros
agreed.
* * * *
*
Ifrit, following the commands
of its master, attacked Silence with a barrage of fireballs. The flaming
balls of incadascent destruction, however, were deflected by Diablos as it
stood protectively before its own master. As the fires faded, the demonic
GF replied, hurling its own ball of destruction, a black globe of absolute
darkness that engulfed the firey Ifrit. In the aftermath of that counterattack,
Ifrit stood stunned, and then it began to dissipate into a formless mass
of flames that quickly faded away. Diablos roared in victory and it, too,
disappeared into
darkness.
Silence still stood across
from Illarra, a triumphant look of victory upon his face. The purple-haired
woman, however, was furious. Then, without warning, she
calmed.
"I didn't know you held a
GF," she said
nonchalantly.
"Likewise," Silence managed
to reply, caught off-guard by this unusual woman's sudden mood
swings.
That unexpected mood swing
however, was another of Illarra's many useful weapons, for as Silence was
still off-balance by the shift in her emotions, Illarra's left hand shot
up. A blast of flaming destruction erupted from he palm, blasting into Silence
and hurling him
backward.
"Hmm..." Illarra mused as
she strode towards the infiltrator, who lay sprawled nearly a dozen feet
away. "A weakness to magic, I see. Perhaps you aren't the invincible warrior
I was fearing." As she approached his prone form, Illarra began to suspect
that she hadn't just stunned Silence, but had actually killed him. His
vulnerability to magic must be immense, she thought, considering the mental
and physical discipline, and thus inherent resistance to magic, that he had
to have possessed to match her in melee
combat.
As she reached his sprawled,
burned body, Silence groaned and began to roll over. Illarra bent down, her
dagger poised just inches from his throat. It was a pity to have to kill
one so skilled. His GF summoning had been powerful, faster than anything
she had ever seen, and his combat skills were breathtaking! And he was an
attractive man. Excellent build, strong features, and long, coppery hair.
Illarra also thought she saw what looked like glowing feather tatoos on his
forearems, through a torn patch of one of his sleeves. A true
pity.
Even as she was considering
the loss Silence's death would bring, Illarra had noticed one of Silence's
hands still held a kinzoku-sensu. He had shifted the weapon to bring it to
bear on Illarra, but the angle was all wrong for him to thrust it at her.
At least, not without her being able to drive her dagger through his throat
before he could get the weapon halfway across the distance to
Illarra.
Silence suddenly grinned.
Illarra looked at him in confusion. He was about to die, and the infiltrator
was
smiling?
Then Illarra saw a small
switch on the sensu that Silence was resting his thumb
on.
"Stab the dagger, and you
die too," Silence said. "These needle blades make for excellent projectiles,
you know."
The two locked gazes intently
for several seconds, matching each other in a battle of wills. Illarra gray
eyes met Silence's deep blue, as the pair struggled mentally, seeing who
would back down
first.
"Then why don't you fire?"
Illarra finally retorted, conceding to her opponent's unyeilding
glare.
"The needles are quite lethal,"
Silence explained. "You'd die, but remain alive long enough to send that
dagger home." His eyes narrowed. "I'm not afraid to die. Are
you?"
"Not afraid to die?" Illarra
said in
surprise.
"My purpose in this world
is already fulfilled," Silence continued. "I can die right now without any
regrets. The important question is, do you feel the same
way?"
"Then why not fire now and
kill me?" Illarra demanded, tired of this
stand-off.
"Unlike you, I don't enjoy
killing. I may be quite proficient at the arts of taking life, but that doesn't
mean I do it for pleasure. I'd prefer no one died here
today."
Illarra was confused by this
mysterious man. A master of death and murder, but without any desire to use
his
gifts?
"What are you, some virtious
mercanary?" Illarra spat in disgust. "A SeeD?" Silence laughed at that
notion.
"I'm no more a SeeD than
you are," he
said.
Any response Illarra would
have had to Silence was suddenly cut off as the roof access flew open and
a small army of Estharian soldiers charged onto the roof. They were met by
Illarra's companions, who launched magic blasts and gunfire at the
guards.
Seconds later, Silence heard
the roaring sound of an Estharian Corsair-class transport's engines. A large,
ungraceful-looking ship swooped in towards the roof, appearing to be little
more than an oversized metallic egg with wings and engines. It wasn't exactly
the most beautiful or graceful craft, but it served its primary purpose,
ferrying supplies and people around the huge city. This Corsair, however,
had been significantly modified. A hatch opened up on its underside, and
a heavy machinegun lowered from the hidden compartment. The weapon turned
toward the engaged Estharians and sprayed gunfire over them. At the same
time, the Corsair's side cargo-loading hatch swung open, and a squad of
black-clad men with rifles stormed out, adding their own gunfire and magic
to the hailstorm of shots raining on the
guards.
The Estharians were not about
to back down, however, and returned the intruders' gunfire with their own
magic and shotaxe blasts. The air around the rooftop was filled with bullets
and magic as the two groups
battled.
"Illarra!" one of the men
shouted as he pushed the large hovering box into the cargo hatch. The
purple-haired woman glanced back to Silence, who still held the sensu in
her direction, finger on the firing switch. She turned back to the raging
battle. Two of her allies were down, but the Estharians had lost nearly a
third of their men in the battle thus
far.
"Another time, perhaps,"
she said with a grin, and rose, then moved away from Silence. She paused
to cast a Triple spell on herself, then, as she ran back towards the Corsair
transport, she loose a trio of Firagas upon the Estharian soldiers. The enemy
soldiers, having suffered surprising losses, had already begun to fall back.
The Firagas tore through their ranks and drove the survivors back to the
roof access, where they began to regroup amidst the rain of bullets and
magic.
Seeing the battle won for
the moment, Illarra turned back to Silence, who lay nearly forty feet away
on the rooftop. She quickly judged the distance, and determined that the
kinzoku-sensu probably couldn't fire its sliver-like blades accurately at
this distance. In a single smooth motion, she drew a purple-bladed dagger,
flipped it into the air, caught it by its tip, and cocked the blade back
for a throw into Silence's prone form. Silence saw the movement, and he too
knew that he couldn't hit her at this range. He snapped the sensu up anyway
and leveled it at her. lining up his shot, he flicked the switch, loosing
the blades at Illarra. She grinned as the slivers flashed past her, and ignored
the stinging pain as one of the blades dug into her shoulder. She could accept
this pain in return for removing the foolishly idealistic Silence from the
world. Illarra's grin widened when Silence's shoulders slumped, as he accepted
the death her coming dagger would
bring.
The grin was suddenly replaced
by a look of sincere terror as Illarra's gray eyes spotted something beyond
Silence. The dagger lowered as she began to back away. Confused, Silence
turned his head and looked back in the direction of whatever Illarra had
seen.
Hovering there at the edge
of the roof, guns ready, was a huge, graceful red and silver aircraft, shaped
in the form of a mighty dragon. In the sound of the battle between the guards
and the intruders, the quiet airship had slipped up unnoticed. Now the
Ragnorok-class airship hovered just off the roof, guns
leveled.
"Look out!" Illarra screamed
as she ran back toward the Corsair. Her shout was drowned out as the Ragnorok
airship opened fire. The thundering blasts of its weapons deafened the people
on the roof as the bullets exploded all around them, tearing chunks in the
rooftop
metal.
The battle ended swiftly
as the fighters on both sides dove for whatever cover they could find. The
airship's gunner did not aim to kill, simply to scare, which he unsurprisingly
achieved. Amidst the chaos of the Ragnorok's fire, the front hatch of the
mighty airship opened and a large form, dressed in black much like Silence,
came bounding down the ramp. He scooped up the fallen infiltrator as if he
weighed nothing and carried the wounded man to the saftey of the
ship.
Silence was able to catch
a glimpse of Illarra and her surviving companions as they dragged their dead
and wounded back onto the Corsair transport before the ramp closed and the
Ragnorok airship peeled away from the rooftop. A moment later, he felt a
wave of revitalizing energy sweep over him as a potent Curaga spell was cast
on him. While the healing spell had a somewhat limited effect on him due
to the "treatments" he'd recived earlier, the restorative power of the healing
spell was more than enough to get the infiltrator back on his feet. As he
stood up, he turned to the huge, black-clad man who'd carried him out of
the
firefight.
"Thanks, Ward. I owe you
one," Silence said, patting the big man on the
shoulder.
"....." Ward smiled back,
the expression much more telling than any words possibly could have
conveyed.
* * * *
*
Illarra clutched her wounded
shoulder, hissing in anger. She had been so close to killing that damned
Silence!
"Illarra, are you alright?"
one of the black-clad men asked. Illarra spun and decked the man with a single
punch to the
face.
She was perfectly fine, the
other men knew. She hadn't used her daggers on him, after
all.
Illarra pulled the slender
needle from her shoulder, gritting away the pain. She vowed that Silence
would pay for this insult. After casting a Cure on the wound, Illarra stood
up and walked over to the large box. The whole reason they had been breaking
into that lab to begin
with...
"Xerret had best come up
with the money when we bring this to him!" she growled
angrily.
The group of men around her
in the cargo bay glanced at each other. Illarra didn't seem to care at all
that she had lost two men and four others were badly wounded. But then again,
they were very well paid, so the men knew to keep their mouths
shut.
And anyone who still wanted
to complain simply had to look at the unconcious man on the floor, and remember
the volitale Illarra's sharp daggers hidden up her
sleeves.
* * * *
*
Aladorn lit the cigarrette
with the small laser lighter. The sniper puffed the smoke, watching it waft
off into space as he waited for the man to approach. The tall figure was
walking slowly, warily, keeping away from the edge of the walkway, and trying
not to look down, since even far from the ledge he would be looking down
through the transparent boulevard, down into the city far
below.
He hated Esthar, Aladorn
knew. The architecture, the clothing, the general feel of the whole city,
all of it. He was too proud to admit it, but he was also afraid of heights,
and in Esthar, there were an almost endless number of high ledges that overlooked
spiral depths. And at nightime, it was even worse, since the the depths of
the city consisted of either dark shadows or bright lights leading down to
the depths
below...
Here, in this part of the
city, there were more shadows than bright lights, since monsters still roamed
freely. But then again, that was why this section had been chosen as the
meeting spot, since few people except the soldiers that had secured the area
specifically for the meeting would be here at
night.
Aladorn looked the nervous
man over. He had been through hell, the sniper knew. His whole world turned
upside down, his position of power stolen, his partner killed, and all of
it due to a Sorceress from the future. And furthermore, the whole plan had
gone out the window when that Sorceress had shown up. With the death of a
primary player in their plans, nearly a decade of preparations had been snagged.
Although, Aladorn noted, that same Sorceress had also set up a situation
that they had awaited for several years. If only they could deal with Garden
and SeeD, things would fall into
place.
And that was precisely this
nervous man's role in the
plan.
"Why did you call me here?"
the tall man demanded as he approached Aladorn. The smoking sniper puffed
a couple of times, then took the cigarrette out of his
mouth.
"Security, my friend. Galbadia
is a little too volitale right now, and Fisherman's Horizon is overrun with
Kramer's people. Centra is too remote, Trabia too cold. Dollet and Timber
are just as bad as Galbadia, what with Timber regaining independence and
Dollet's recent
offensive."
The tall man shook his head.
"Galbadia being bested by Dollet.
Ridiculous."
"Dollet has deep pockets,"
the sniper replied with another draw on his cigarrette. "The Duke has been
planning to pay Galbadia back for years, and he and the Parliament were just
waiting for a weakness so they could hire mercanaries for a
war."
"I suppose the disaster Ultimecia
brought to the Galbadians was the moment they were waiting for," the tall
man said. "Though if Dollet was expecting Galbadia to be leaderless, they
were in for a nasty surprise when Veers took over." The tall man reffered
to General Veers, among the higher ranking of the Galbadian senior command.
With Caraway stripped of his command and Deling dead, Veers was the highest
ranking member of the Galbadian military, and happened to be next in line
for rule of
Galbadia.
"Veers has been recalling
his forces," Aladorn remarked after another draw on his cigarrette. "Letting
Timber go and giving Dollet the area around Yaluny Canyon were smart moves.
Conservation of strength. He's a wise commander, moreso than Deling ever
was." He puffed again. "Thus, setting up the perfect oppurtunity for
us."
The tall man cocked a curious
eye on Aladorn, prompting him to
elaborate.
"Veers views retreat before
Dollet's advance as weakness. He wants to counterattack, but logistics won't
allow it. At least, not yet. You may not know this, but Veers has been opening
diplomatic channels with Dollet's Parliament, and is trying to negotiate
a cease-fire. But at first oppurtunity, Veers will break that agreement and
use whatever he has to crush Dollet. And then he'll turn around and send
his whole army at the disorganized, weak government of Timber. You see,"
Aladorn continued, puffing again, "Veers is a soldier, not a politician.
When it comes to diplomacy and international relations, he only sees tools
by which to further wage war. He does not, or perhaps, cannot, see the value
of these relations in peacetime." Aladorn paused for another
smoke.
"Remember, the people of
Esthar were just invaded by Galbadia and experienced the nightmare of the
Lunar Cry, which is still going on today. They are immensely distrustful
of the Galbadians, and if a threat is percieved, the Estharian people will
demand that the government deal with that threat. A breaking of a ceasefire
and the attempted domination of an entire continent could very, very easily
be twisted into a threat to Esthar. We will have no difficulty prompting
war with Galbadia in such a
situation."
"You forget Dollet and Timber,"
the tall man replied. "They might very well be able to deflect Galbadia's
invasions. The whole plan fails if Dollet and Timber withstand Galbadia's
coming
assaults."
"That brings me to the reason
I wanted to talk to you," Aladorn said with another draw on his cigarrette.
"Dollet has a small army that relies on outside help to kep its lands secure.
Timber has no army to speak of yet. Galbadia just retreated a few weeks ago,
remember, and local militias are the closest thing to an army they have.
Both nations now rely on SeeD and Garden for protection." Aladorn puffed
his cigarrete again. "Without SeeD and Garden, Dollet and Timber will fall
to Galbadia. Then it would be quite excusable to 'liberate' those territories
from Galbadian
rule."
"What of other mercanary
groups?" the tall man asked. "SeeD is certainly not the only army for hire
out
there."
Aladorn laughed. "Subtle
threats can go a long way, my friend. A show of our power and a veiled warning
would be all we'd need to convince most mercanary groups to refuse hiring
by Dollet or Timber. And those we can't threaten into submission we can buy.
After all, the only causes of a mercanary are money and
intimidation."
"Garden and SeeD are the
key if we intend to win this war," Aladorn continued. "Trabia Garden is out
of commission for the moment, as you know. Galbadia Garden is being repaired
at Fisherman's Horizon, and the majority of the students and faculty are
still out. That leaves Balamb as the only viable Garden. We can assert control
over Galbadia Garden easily enough, and Trabia is too small to worry about.
Balamb Garden is the
key."
"But NORG is dead!" the tall
man growled. "Without that fat slob we have no control over Balamb Garden!
Kramer and that kid Leonhart are in
charge."
Aladorn smiled. "Then get
rid of
them."
The tall man paused for a
moment, realizing the simple logic of
it.
"Eliminate Kramer and Leonhart,
and Balamb can be taken over again without difficulty. And we will once again
have control over the most elite collection of soldiers in the world, to
spearhead our conquest!" Aladorn puffed his cigarrette again, his smile widening.
"Best of all, these mercanaries will never know we created them for this
purpose to begin
with!"
The tall man smiled. "How
do you want the kid and the old man dealt
with?"
"Kramer would be easy enough
to remove. The boy Leonhart, however..." The sniper gave his tall co-conspiritor
a knowing look, as if he knew an incredible secret. "His girlfriend, Rinoa
Heartilly, is a
Sorceress."
"What?!" the tall man
spouted.
"Yes, she inherited the powers
from Edea, then Adel when she was killed." Aladorn laughed at the irony.
"SeeD was created to defeat the Sorceresses, and the lover of their commander
is one. Fate plays strange games." He puffed his cigarrette again. "Games
that we can exploit." The sniper laughed again and the tall man joined in
with him.
"Is there anything else?"
the tall man
asked.
"No, that's all. Good hunting,"
Aladorn said. The tall man nodded and walked off. Aladorn noted that he no
longer noticed the depths of the Estharian city far below
them.
Taking one last draw on his
cigarrette, Aladorn considered how close they were to the completion of nearly
a decade's work. A few short months, and everything would be ready to exploit
the wake of Ultimecia's destructive path. All that remained was to recover
control of Garden and SeeD from that silly idealist Cid and the boy
Leonhart.
Once they had recovered SeeD,
their trump card, Esthar would once again rule
supreme.
He took the stub, all that
remained of his cigarrette, and hurled it over the edge of the street into
the city of shadows
below.
Chapter 2
Peptuck3's Fanfiction