Chapter One: On The Run

The young man with the long blond hair barged open the door into the condemned apartment building in downtown Esthar and limped over to the elevators. He jabbed the call button and tried to ignore the mocking laughter from a group of youths who were a few metres away smoking. After about thirty seconds off this, during which the elevator stubbornly refused to appear the blond haired man's patience snapped and he turned towards the youths.

"What's the joke?" He demanded; his voice hoarse and cracked thanks to prolonged lack of use.

"The lifts broke, mate." One of the youths replied before laughing again, setting all his cronies off.

The blond haired man shrugged and headed for the stairwell. As he passed the laughing youths he lashed out, slamming his elbow into the leaders face, knocking him to the floor and permanently flattening the bridge of his nose.

"No one likes a smart ass," He said as he started to climb the stairs.

As soon as he reached the next floor the blond haired man started methodically checking every room that wasn't padlocked closed. Every single room was infested with cockroaches and spiders, not to mention damp and dry rot but beggars couldn't be choosers. He finally chose a room near the stairwell on the third floor. It had plenty of tenants of the insect and arachnid variety but it also had an armchair, fireplace and dilapidated looking bed. That would do him fine. He'd had worse.

The man's name was Seifer Almasy and for the last four years he'd been on the run. There was no shortage of organisations after him and personally Seifer couldn't blame them. His exploits during the Second Sorceress War included genocide, war crimes, terrorism, treason, grand larceny (larceny didn't come grander than the Lunatic Pandora, or as Seifer had started calling it the "building sized doomsday machine") and tax evasion. Seifer dismissed the latter as a long story. He figured that sooner or later one of the parties after him would stumble across him. If he had a choice Seifer would take the Esthar authorities. They might rough him up a bit, but they didn't have capital punishment. It would also be slightly less painful than being lynched by the members of Trabia Garden after Seifer had order a missile strike on the northernmost military enclave. It'd be considerably less painful than an appointment with Galbadia's professional torturers. It'd be infinitely less painful than returning to Balamb Garden and throwing himself on the tender mercies of Squall Leonhart.

Seifer reached into his tattered trench coat and pulling out a bottle of whiskey and unscrewed the top. He took a mouthful, allowing the fiery liquid to run down his throat and warm him from the inside. Four years of living rough and surviving off alcohol and any edible monsters he could find (which wasn't a lot) has blessed Seifer with an extraordinary tolerance; it took a lot to get him drunk.

The funny thing was Seifer had once been something of a lightweight. Back at Garden, Seifer's friend Raijin had started a black market in spirits and Seifer was his most frequent customer. The first time Seifer had gotten drunk, he'd ended up running around naked and trying to make love to street furniture before he fell into a drainage channel and broke his wrist. Then just to cap it off, Zell Dincht had broken into his bedroom, pinned him down and drawn crude illustrations of male genitalia all over the plaster cast. Seifer almost smiled at the memory of the martial artist's definition of high jinks.

Almost.

As the evening wore on, Seifer opened a second bottle of whiskey. It was nearly sunset and he was contemplating where he might find some firewood for the fireplace when a knock came at his door.

Seifer raised an eyebrow. Any of the parties after him wouldn't have knocked; they would have just kicked the door in before he even knew where they were there. He sighed theatrically and got to his feet before opening the door. The youths from earlier were assembled outside his door, carrying an assortment of knives and bats.

"Hey you," Their leader said, his nose still bleeding copiously as he raised a large meat cleaver. "Who's the smart ass now?"

Seifer didn't respond verbally. Instead he produced a silenced Micro Uzi machine pistol from a specially fashioned holster inside his jacket. The youths took a hasty step backwards but Seifer didn't want them to come back while he was sleeping, so he had to make them think twice. He flipped the safety catch to fully automatic and squeezed the trigger, spraying the youth's legs and feet. They all collapsed with screams and moans of pain. The wounds weren't immediately fatal but they'd certainly be sufficient to convince the youths to think again. Seifer immediately frisked them. He took a few mobile phones he could sell for money and their knives would be good for throwing. Lastly he picked up a wooden cricket bat that would do for firewood. Then he closed the door and returned to his armchair.

The youths were still rolling around outside cursing and groaning. One of them even had the courage to verbally abuse Seifer through the door. Seifer made sure they could hear him reloading his gun.

"Shut up out there," He called. "Or so help me I'll come out there and silence you myself."

The youths obviously heeded his advice and the curses and expressions faded away as they dragged themselves off down the hall. There was a possibility they'd report him to the police but Seifer wasn't worried by that. The police would more than likely assume the youths had tried to short change a local drug dealer and not even bother sending someone to pull him in. Seifer was confident in his ability to keep ahead of a couple of police task forces. He may have been suffering from borderline starvation but he was still Seifer Almasy.

After finishing his second bottle of whiskey Seifer headed over to the bed and crashed out on it without even bothering to undress. He bundled up his jacket to use as a makeshift pillow and closed his eyes, ignoring the skittering sound as a mouse crossed the floor.

Several hours later, Seifer awoke suddenly and sat up pulling a knife from inside his sleeve. He wasn't sure what had woken him up but knew instinctively that something was wrong. Seifer looked around as his intuition buzzed like a swarm of demented bees at the base of his neck. He couldn't see anything out of place but he'd survived this long on his instincts and they were screaming that danger was close. Invisible certainly, but here nevertheless.

Then the floor outside his door creaked.

Seifer snapped his head around so fast he cricked his neck, just in time to see a shadow in the gap between door and floor whip out of sight. He flipped his knife in one hand and slid out his Hyperion gun blade, holding it ready to scalp his visitor if he didn't like the look of them.

The silence was suddenly broken by the unmistakeable ratcheting sound of a shotgun being pumped. The lock and hinges were shot away and the door was broken down by a well-aimed kick. A small object flew through the door and by chance landed between Seifer's feet. It was a "flashbang" stun grenade. Seifer had felt their effects (a blinding flash of igniting magnesium and a bang that made everyone in the vicinities head ring) during training and had no desire to repeat the experience so he reacted instantly by kicking the grenade back out into the hall where it detonated.

A second later a Galbadian soldier stepped into the room, sword at the ready. Seifer steeled himself to meet his opponent while noticing something that made his blood run cold. The soldier was dressed in the silver armour and jumpsuit all Galbadian soldiers wore, but this character was not dressed in the blue of the rank-and-file regulars or the red of officers. He wasn't even wearing the green of the Galbadian paratroopers. He was dressed in the matt black of the Dragon Squadron, Galbadia's elite special forces.

Seifer briefly considered exiting via the window but he realised the Galbadian's would've prepared for that. Seifer swung the Hyperion in an arc and his opponent parried the blow. In the process he opened himself up and Seifer took full advantage. He kicked the soldier between the legs with one leg before spinning on his left heel and unleashing a second, much harder kick with his right foot. It impacted solidly with the man's chest armour. The blow was sufficient to propel the solider out of the room and send him clattering into his comrades.

The Galbadian's lost a vital few seconds disentangling themselves and Seifer acted quickly. They obviously thought they had him cornered but Seifer had stayed free by choosing his accommodation very carefully and planning for every eventuality. He kept the soldiers back with a burst of fire from his Uzi and then leaping onto his bed, shoulder barged the wall.

Weakened by dry rot and years of neglect, the wall was incapable of standing up to someone of Seifer's size throwing his entire bodyweight at it. The wall imploded and Seifer quite suddenly found himself in the neighbouring apartment. He waved jauntily to a couple shagging in the corner before running full tilt at the opposite wall, smashing through that as well.

The Galbadian's hadn't expected Seifer's unorthodox exit strategy and were slow to react. By the time they'd come to terms with it he'd reached the last room on this floor. He booted the door open and hared up a stairwell. The Galbadian's probably had the lower floors sealed off so Seifer's only option was to head to the roof and leap to an adjacent building.

As soon as Seifer shot the door leading to the roof open and was back in the open air he saw that was not going to happen. The Galbadian's had known he'd head for the roof and planned accordingly. He counted at least twelve sharpshooters on nearby rooftops, eyeing him through their scopes. He ducked behind a generator as the pursuing soldiers reached the roof and spreading out.

"You're surrounded!" One of the soldiers yelled. "You can't get away! Give up now!"

"Go swivel!" Seifer barked, popping up and firing a burst in the general direction of the voice. He wondered idly if they'd shoot him if he attacked directly. That would be his preference because Seifer had heard all about Galbadia's cavalier apology for a justice system. If they took him he'd be handed over to their professional torturers, and provided he survived the ordeal he'd be put in front of a firing squad, most likely without the benefit of a trial.

"This is your last warning!" The lead soldier shouted as he moved towards Seifer, aiming his gun at Seifer's head. "We don't want to kill you, so give up now and you have my word we'll spare you."

"I'll take my chances with you lot over being tortured to death." Seifer laughed in spite of himself as he readied himself to charge. Then the lightbulb went on in Seifer's head as an outrageous thought occurred to him. It was undoubtedly madness and almost certainly wouldn't work, but on the flipside if it did, it would be the last thing they would expect. However before Seifer could spring into action one of the soldiers reached the generator he was crouched behind.

Seifer sprang up, seized the soldier by his lapels and dragged him over the generator before slamming him onto the ground. He ripped the soldier's helmet off and bashed him in the face with it, putting him out for the count. Then he seized a flashbang from his belt kit, popped the pin and tossed it towards the soldiers. He closed his eyes and clamped his hands over his ears but still felt the pulse of the detonation. Then he was up and running as if he was about to jump to the next rooftop, regardless of the sharpshooters.

Seifer took a running jump off the edge of the roof but instead of trying to make it to the next apartment block he aimed his boots at a window on the topmost floor of said building. He crashed into a living room and as he picked himself up he saw a family looking up at him, astonished. Seifer took a cocky bow.

"Sorry about the window." He said brightly before heading for the door. "I'll show myself out."

Once he reached the hall Seifer paused and considered his next move. He was safe for the time being as he knew Galbadian soldier's rules of engagement prohibited them from going into occupied buildings. Seifer knew he couldn't hide out in this building forever. There was a chance the Galbadian's would simply level it with a drone missile and Seifer had enough guilt and regret on his plate without adding the deaths of however many civilians lived in the building. He headed for the ground floor and paused by an exit door to psyche himself up.

After a few seconds Seifer booted the door open and hared out onto the street. The Galbadian's on the rooftops immediately saw him and opened fire. Seifer however had learned how to cast magic without the aid of a Guardian Force during his tenure as a Sorceress Knight and he'd cast a Protect spell on himself. The bullets ricocheted off the invisible shield but didn't penetrate. Seifer sprinted across the street before seizing a manhole cover and wrenching it open. He couldn't resist honouring the Galbadian's with an obscene hand gesture before disappearing into the darkness.

For the next ten minutes or so, Seifer sprinted helter-skelter through the sewer tunnels, working his way deeper and deeper. He knew that the deeper he went the less likely it was the Galbadian's would find him. Still, even when he was near the surface they would struggles as the sewer system needed to service the city population of three hundred million was labyrinthine, and that was putting it mildly. Seifer paused and listened hard, but as far as he could tell no one was following.

Now the Galbadian's knew he was in the area they would tear the city apart to find him, and Seifer couldn't stay in the sewers forever. There was no whiskey down here. That left him with one course of action. It was time to move on. He'd heard that Dollet was nice at this time of the year, and they weren't actually looking for him. Seifer was about to continue on his way when a tell-tale cackling sound made him stop in his tracks. He turned towards the noise to see a shapeless black shadow emerge from a nearby tunnel.

Creeps were monsters that infested the dark places of the world, but despite their ominous looking appearance, they were not very dangerous unless they attacked in large numbers. Seifer drew the Hyperion and bared his teeth at the oncoming monster in a predatory grin.

"Hello Beastie."

During his life as a fugitive Seifer had explored a vast chunk of Esthar's sewer system and probably had a better grasp on its geography than anyone else alive. He was pretty sure where he was going and he wouldn't be sorry to leave the sewers and escape the almost endless assaults from Red Bats. He was able to deal with them and the Creeps that periodically attacked him but he'd also stumbled across a marauding Grand Mantis. Seifer was a pretty handy fighter but he wasn't stupid. Given the state he was in he didn't like his chances of walking away alive from a tussle with a praying mantis the size of a bus.

Seifer had been walking for nearly six hours when he decided to return to the surface to check he was heading in the right direction. It was very easy to get turned around in the sewers. He quick located a ladder and climbed it until he found a man hole cover. He pulled out his Uzi and cocked it, just in case he happened to surface in the middle of and Esthar military base. He put his shoulder to the cover and pushed upwards. It shifted up a few inches and Seifer peered out. He immediately realised that this wasn't his exit point. From what he could see, it was a crowded shopping precinct and if a former mercenary and current fugitive climbed out of the sewers wielding a gun blade and a machine gun it would spark a panic that would attract far too much attention. Seifer pulled the man hole cover back into place and descended the ladder once again. He crouched at the foot and closing his eyes started to think.

He hadn't seen much from his position but what he had seen was invaluable. Most of the people had been wearing designer labels. This meant that the shopping precinct was one of the opulent ones on the outskirts of the city. He'd also caught a faint but noticeable whiff of salt. That meant he was near the western side of the city and the Great Salt Lake. That was good. On the other side of the Salt Flats was a train station at the eastern end of Horizon Bridge. Seifer decided to find another way up and hope that when he did he was in a less crowded area. Seifer replaced the Uzi in its holster as he stood up and unsheathed the Hyperion in case any monsters or bounty hunters were about.

That was when Seifer's intuition tingled and he spun around, Hyperion cocked back for a swing.

"Who's here?" He demanded aggressively. He didn't expect anyone to answer so he was surprised when a voice spoke up from several metres away.

"A friend." It was a man speaking with a difficult to place accent and as Seifer peered into the darkness he could make out an outline standing in the mouth of the nearest tunnel.

"I don't have any friends." Seifer growled, still not lowering the Hyperion. He reached into his jacket and gave the handle of his Uzi a reassuring squeeze. "Now why don't you come out and face me like a…thing."

"Very well." The man stepped forwards until a light in the ceiling threw his features into sharp relief. Seifer lowered the Hyperion slightly but didn't sheath as he looked the newcomer over. He was few inches shorter than Seifer but with short dark hair and a healthy growth of stubble. He was dressed casually and was smiling as if at some private joke. He appeared to be unarmed but Seifer knew that unless someone was stupid enough to let a weapon bulge through clothing it was impossible to tell if someone was carrying one. The man's most distinguishing features were his eyes. They were a deep dark blue and when Seifer looked into them he could tell that the man had lived, and had seen things no one should ever have to see.

"Who are you?" Seifer asked as he eased his body into a combat stance, more out of habit than anything else.

"Relax Seifer," The man told him calmly. "I mean you no harm. I'd just like to talk to you."

"How do you know my name?" Seifer growled. For some reason he got the feeling that there was some ulterior motive at work here. After all, people didn't tend to bump into each other in sewers.

"Come on Seifer, your mug shot is all over the place these days." The man chuckled good-naturedly. "As for whom I am, you can call me Barranca."

"Okay Barranca," Seifer grunted as he sheathed the Hyperion. "What do you want with me?"

"I want to tell you a story." Barranca replied. "Once upon a time there were two boys called Squall and Seifer. They both aspired to be the best swordsmen the world has ever seen but the ways they went about it were very different. Squall devoted himself to endless training and cutting himself off from everything aside from the combat. Seifer on the other hand entered into servitude of an evil Sorceress bent on destruction of all life and so forth. Squall and a select few warriors were dedicated to stopping said Sorceress and that inevitably brought them into contact with you no fewer than three times. You lost all those fights and therefore handed Squall the title of world's best swordsman gift wrapped on a silver platter. Now, as Commander of SeeD Special Forces Squall will go from strength to strength while his rival, meaning you, is now nothing more than a lost, directionless loser and a fugitive to boot."

"Okay," Seifer said, trying to ignore the anger and shame that was starting to bubble up inside him. "You've told me the story of my life, which I already knew seeing as it was my life. So what now?"

"I'm going to tell you what happens next." Barranca stated simply before nodding at the ceiling. "But all this yakking is going to be thirsty work so what say you we get ourselves a drink?"

"I'm not going up there." Seifer shook his head. "You know so much about me, you should know that half the civilised world is after my head on a plate. I'm not about to give them an open invitation to swoop in, throw me in jail for the rest of my life or just kill me on the spot."

"You've cut yourself off from most of the population so you're a little behind on the times." Barranca replied. "It's been four years since the Second Sorceress War ended and since then most people have given up on finding you. Esthar haven't renewed the warrant for your arrest and most people seem happy to let you be the nutter who got away."

"Apart from Galbadia." Seifer retorted. "They turned up in the place I was staying and tried to take me down. Obviously they failed but that doesn't mean they'll stop trying."

"I think you'll be okay if you stay in Esthar for the foreseeable," Barranca said reasonably. "Now why don't we just see what we can talk about over a couple of drinks."

About half an hour later Seifer and Barranca were both sitting at the bar of a small pub on the outskirts of Esthar. They were both drinking glasses of house whisky (which Barranca had insisted on buying).

"Okay, I'm not convinced this isn't a wind up but why don't you tell me what you want to tell me." Seifer said.

"Don't mind if I do." Barranca said. "Tell me Seifer apart from yours truly when's the last time you spent a half decent length of time with another human being."

"I don't know." Seifer said after a few seconds of silence. "A while."

"Define "a while"." Barranca pushed. "Are we talking days? Weeks? Months?"

"Longer." Seifer said monotonously. "Years."

"Aww man the buses don't go where you live do they?" Barranca observed. "Let me tell you something Seifer, cutting yourself off like that is pretty much the dumbest thing you can do. Human beings have a need to share their lives with someone. Husbands and wives, parents and children and so on. If you continue cutting yourself off from humanity the way you've been doing it won't end well."

"So what do you suggest?" Seifer demanded.

"Well let's look at this city." Barranca said. "It's got a population of approximately three hundred million people and that's a lot of people. I imagine some of them have got problems."

"What's your point?" Seifer growled.

"You know, the world is a harsh and unfriendly place but every so often you see something that makes you believe in humanity." Barranca continued. "Everyone in this world needs someone to reach out to when they need help, and I think you could fit the bill. It's not just about saving lives, it's about saving souls and possibly your own in the process."

"I want to know who sent you." Seifer said, trying to mask the fact that Barranca's words had struck a chord somewhere deep inside him.

"I'm honestly not sure." Barranca laughed. "They don't speak to me directly. I get what you might call visions, meaning great splitting migraines that come with pictures. A name, a face. I haven't a clue who sends them. I just know that whoever sends them is more powerful than you or me, and is just trying to make things right. Whoever these people are they need a champion to do the heavy lifting. I'm not a fighter, but you are."

"Why me?" Seifer growled.

"Because you've got potential." Barranca clarified. "You made some mistakes but right now I am giving you a chance to rectify them."

"Okay then why you?" Seifer asked. "I'm not saying I believe you, but if these people who send you the visions need a champion like me, why didn't they just send the visions to me direct? Why do they go through you?"

"We've all got something to atone for." Barranca said, an unreadable expression flicking momentarily across his face. "Look Seifer, I'm not going to force you to do anything against your will. Just think it over for a few days. I'll find you sooner or later and then we can revaluate." With that Barranca slid off his barstool and strode out of the pub without a backwards glance.

Seifer stayed on his barstool and stared into his glass. Despite a great deal of evidence to the contrary Seifer was not emotionally stunted and he had a great deal of emotions relating to the massive fiasco that had come to be known as the Second Sorceress War. There was anger there, but it was overshadowed by a massive amount of guilt and remorse. It was so strong that Seifer had contemplated suicide on a number of occasions. The turn of phrase "when on door closes another opens" had always struck a chord with him and unless Seifer was very much mistaken Barranca's appearance and take on Seifer's very existence was another door opening. Seifer knew that he'd never be free of the guilt that surrounded his stint as a Sorceress' brainwashed cabana boy, but maybe helping people would go some way towards helping him live with it.

Barranca unlocked a door and led Seifer into a basement apartment in one of Esthar's in-between neighbourhoods. It wasn't exactly the Ritz but it wasn't some grotty flat in a block where the halls were full of heroin and the faint smell of corpses.

"Buildings quiet," Barranca explained conversationally. "Doors reinforced and there's a sewer entrance if company comes to visit."

"What, no cable?" Seifer grunted.

"You go water, electricity, heating – all the basics." Barranca went on evenly. "Rent's all paid up and there's a market on the corner, open all night."

"Look, I appreciate what you're doing, giving me a reason to go on and all," Seifer growled as he turned to towards the door. "But I'm afraid I'm going to have to draw the line at being your kept boy."

"Oh, you got someplace else to live?" Barranca blocked his path, his dark eyes sparkling knowingly. "I mean a man of your means must have money tucked away somewhere. You'll find something soon. I'm offering you a place to hang your hat, or your coat. Could say thank you."

"Great." Seifer snorted. "Another ruddy basement."

"You want creature comforts?" Barranca retorted. "You can go to Balamb Garden. This place has everything you need to be a hero. The job requires somewhat of a Spartan existence."

"You call that a bed?" Seifer exclaimed belligerently pointing at an old fashioned single bed in the corner of the living room-cum kitchen cum-bedroom.

"Well it's not like you're going to be sharing it with anyone soon." Barranca grinned as he opened a fridge and took out a bottle of beer. He wrenched the top off and was about to take a drink when Seifer plucked the bottle from his hand and took a drink himself.

"If this is going to be my base of operations I think I should get first dibs on the booze front." He said as he collapsed onto a dilapidated sofa and took another drink and propping his feet up on a battered coffee table.

"No, don't mention it." Barranca grunted as he sat down next to Seifer. "It was my pleasure to furnish this place and fill the fridge entirely out of my pocket."

"What are you after, a thank you?" Seifer demanded. "Thanks for putting me up in what I'm fairly sure will rapidly become a rat infested sinkhole. Now be a good boy and push off."

"What if I get a vision and I need to contact you?" Barranca asked cheerfully. "The phone isn't hooked up yet but it should be tomorrow. You're stuck with me for now. That's why there's aspirin in that cupboard."

"Aspirin?" Seifer remarked, his interest piqued. "I know you said that these vision things hurt but how bad is it?"

"Don't go thinking it's like when you eat ice cream too fast." Barranca grunted. "I'm fairly certain there are no words to describe pain of that magnitude but I'll do my best. Think of your brain being pan seared in its own juices, and the combine that with having a seriously pissed off porcupine crawling around inside your cranium and you might start to get the slightest idea. Usually that sort of pain would knock you out in two shakes of a lamb's tail but it doesn't work that way I'm afraid. You stay conscious and in pretty extreme pain. Best of all, it leaves no long term brain damage so whoever sends them to me can do it over and over again."

"Sounds like fun." Seifer said sarcastically before taking another mouthful of beer.

"Then I'm telling it wrong." Barranca replied before rubbing his throat. "Say, all this cht chat is making me thirsty so I'd appreciate a beer if there's one going begging." A beat. "Pretty please."

"Help yourself." Seifer said, gesturing towards the fridge albeit with pretty bad grace.

"You this prickly with all your friends?" Barranca asked.

"I'm soft on the inside." Seifer answered flatly. "You wouldn't happen to know where I can get a TV and an X-Box seeing as I'm likely to be stuck in here for who knows how long until you get a vision."

"Seifer, things would…" Barranca gulped and took a deep breath. "Things would go a lot smoother…" Barranca suddenly dropped his beer and clutched his head with a groan. Seifer watched with an air of detachment as Barranca collapsed onto the floor and started to jack knife and dry heave between roars of pain. He crawled over towards the kitchen sink and pulling himself up vomited into it.

"Oh bloody hell," Seifer groaned as Barranca managed to stand though his legs shook violently. "What was that about?"

"I just had a vision." Barranca panted, resisting the urge to add "duh" to the end of his sentence.

"Oh great." Seifer snorted. "Look, don't go expecting me to cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war every time you've got one of those vision thingies."

"Fine, stay here and drink your beer," Barranca said matter-of-factly. "But if a young girl gets murdered or raped tonight and you didn't lift a finger to stop it, you have to ask yourself…can you live with that?"

In an alleyway not far from Seifer's new accommodation a young girl had been heading home from a nightclub when she was accosted by a group of three rough looking men who'd offered her a ride. When she'd declined they'd turned nasty and now she'd been bundled against the wall. Two of them men wrenched her skirt down and held her by the arms while the third started unbuttoning his jeans. He was just advancing when a distraction presented itself.

"Evening," A voice said and the men all looked to see a younger man with long blonde hair and a filthy trench coat walking towards them casually and swigging a bottle of whisky.

"Get lost!" One of the men sneered.

"Already am, according to some." The newcomer said as he walked closer until he was less than a metre away from the impending rape. "Never ceases to amaze me the lengths some people will go to in order to get their rocks off."

"Help me!" The girl pleaded before the leader backhanded her viciously.

"I don't think you heard me." The thug said, turning away from his whimpering victim.

"Don't worry." The younger man said before gesturing at the man's unbuttoned jeans. "If you put that apology for a knob anywhere near her I'll take it off with a rusty pen knife and feed it to you."

"You just made the biggest mistake of your…" Before the thug could finish Seifer (for it was he) made his move. He spat a mouthful of whisky in the man's face and then jabbed two fingers under the man's rib cage sending him into spasm. Seifer sank his boot into the thug's stomach, doubling him over and then finished the bastard by smashing the whisky bottle over his head. The man was unconscious before he hit the ground. Seifer shook his head contemptuously. "Amateur."

All credit to the other two men they very quickly recognised they were up against a master in unarmed combat. They shoved the girl aside and pulled out weapons. One man carried a knife, the other a length of bike chain that he wrapped around his fist like a crude knuckleduster. Seifer surreptitiously slid a hand into his jacket and closed his fingers around the grip of the Hyperion. He smiled wolfishly as the man with the knife advanced.

"Okay, we can do this the hard way or…actually now that I think on it there's actually just the hard way."

"That's fine by us." The man with the knife growled.

"Now are you sure?" Seifer feigned concern. "We're talking violence, strong language and adult content." He ducked a swing with the knife. "Is that all you got? Your mothers must be so proud."

Both men exchanged enraged looks. Seifer had done the unthinkable and mentioned their mothers. Nothing could get him out of a kicking now, not even the fact that he was obviously a simpleton, albeit a simpleton with a good vocabulary.

"Now, now ladies before we get into anything let's set out some ground rules." Seifer bared his teeth. "No spitting, no biting, no swearing and no tattling to mummy."

The man with the knife let out an inarticulate howl of rage and lunged towards Seifer. Seifer drew back a foot and let him have it, the blow impacting between the man's legs with astonishing force. His lips went mauve and he fell to his knees while an agonised lowing sound like a cow giving birth emerged from his mouth. Seifer wasn't taking any chances and he seized the man by his waistband and the scruff of his neck and hurled him headfirst into a wall. He hit the wall, bounced off and landed amongst some bins, out for the count.

The third man instantly started scrabbling in his jacket and he whipped out a handgun. Before he could even bring it up and fire Seifer had yanked out the Hyperion and sent it spinning through the air. Loaded with centrifugal force, the handle impacted solidly with the bridge if the man's nose, permanently flattening it. Seifer quickly closed the moaning man down and knocked him cold by clapping him on the temples, giving his brain a right old rattling. Seifer straightened up, returned the Hyperion to its sheath and dusted his hands off before heading back the way he'd come. He was stopped however by the girl.

"Thank you, thank you." She cried. "They were going to kill me!"

"Well what do you expect?" Seifer barked spinning around to face her. "Out alone in this neighbourhood at night? I've got half a mind to kill you myself you half-wit."

"What?" The girl exclaimed incredulously.

"I mean honestly, what sort of retard wears heels like that in a dark alley," Seifer pointed at her shoes. "Take two steps and you'll break your bloody ankle."

"I was just trying to get home!"

"Well, then get a cab you moron." Seifer said, ushering her towards the mouth of the alley and the well-lit street beyond, before calling after her. "And on the way, if a stranger offers you candy, don't get in the van!"

"Believe me now?" A familiar voice said and Seifer turned around to see Barranca standing on a fire escape landing.

"What, your victim vision?" Seifer snorted. "Please. Can't throw a stone in this city without hitting some bimbo in trouble."

"Tough guy huh?" Barranca observed as he descended the steps and walked towards Seifer, sparing the unconscious thugs a distasteful glance. "Nice work by the way, taking out these scumbags."

"Oh yeah, epic battle." Seifer growled with an unimpressed air. "Has to be my finest hour."

"You just saved a girl's life." Barranca pointed out evenly. "It's nothing to laugh off. That said, you could try being a little nicer next time. You almost made her cry."

"What are you on about, next time?" Seifer demanded.

"Well that's up to you." Barranca grinned. "My bet is there's a lot more people out there who need saving, who need a champion to fight their corner."

"News flash sparky; I don't need your help." Seifer bit off. "I've been fighting the evils of this world long before you showed up."

"Not like this." Barranca retorted, holding Seifer's gaze steadily. "You just helped a person when there wasn't anything in it for you. Got to say, that's not like the Seifer Almasy I know."

"Oh really?" Seifer took an aggressive step forwards. "And what Seifer Almasy is that?"

"The Seifer that's only out for himself." Barranca went on. "The Seifer who only does good deeds when it's in his own selfish interests, when it serves to accelerate his ambitions."

"You'd best watch your…" Seifer snarled, grabbing Barranca by his lapels.

"I'm just saying," Barranca said, breaking free of Seifer's grip. "You did good." With that Barranca headed off down the alley without a backwards glance leaving Seifer alone with his thoughts. Seifer looked over at the first man he'd knocked out who was groaning. Seifer's eyes narrowed and he grabbed the man by the scruff off his neck and backhanded him across the face, returning him to consciousness. The man's eyes flickered open and he took a few seconds the focus on Seifer's face.

"Oh shit."

"Good you remember me." Seifer growled before grabbing the man's jaw and squeezing savagely until the bones creaked. "I'm only going to say this once, so listen up. From here on out, this is my city. You and your monkey slaves are going to leave. The beating I just gave you was a warning. If I ever see you in this city again, I will kill you slowly and inventively. Oh and seeing as your head broke my bottle I'll be having the contents of your wallet. Quickly now."

The man was clearly terrified and pulled his wallet out, hands shaking. He handed it to Seifer who quickly emptied it of money.

"Thank you kindly."

Author Commentary: I'm back with a badly needed rewrite of Hell Still Waits and soon enough I'll be giving the sequels Let Us Burn and Flames of Prophecy the same treatment. Despite the fact I was very proud of Hell Still Waits there were a few things that my writers brain was unable to let go and I hope to rectify it with this little story. It was inspired in part by a few Seifer centric fics I cannot recommend highly enough. They are Black Swan by h34rt1lly, Government Bloodhounds by xahra99 and of course, the legendary Fire and Ice by altol. Regarding my OC Aloysius Barranca, I modelled him off Australian actor Manu Bennett, best known as Crixus in Spartacus and Slade Wilson/Deathstroke in Arrow, closer to the latter. There will be more OC's showing up, including one in particular who is a work of genius (readers of the original Hell Still Waits will probably know who I'm referring to) but I plan to introduce them more gradually than in the original. I'm loath to risk what I like to call "character overload". If that's what people want then they should watch some MCU movies. Be warned though, for the time being this fic is rated as T due to violence, strong language and some sexual references. If it gets really brutal or if I dredge up enough courage to post another lemon I will put a warning at the start of the relevant chapters and up the rating to M. As always I would absolutely adore a review to let me know what you think. This fic went down awfully well last time round and I hope this redux will be even better received. I live in hope.

~Figgy