It was a simple plan. A good plan, he told himself, there was no way it could go wrong. And just think of the reward! Whole worlds under his control! Well…under his Master's control, but-but surely the Master would repay him for all his hard work with some land of his own, and then maybe he wouldn't have to deal with these infernal machines anymore. Yes, it was definitely worth it.

Now-

The worlds shimmered and glowed in the mystical water, concealing nothing from him. Using the Master's craft, he focused, searching for just the right individual. It had to be someone brave and pure of heart-a rare commodity these days. It was too peaceful, there were few true Warriors left. Those that did still survive wallowed in stagnation, spending their days sharpening obsolete weapons, and telling war stories about 'the good ol' days'.

But wait…this showed promise. In a land untouched by the Heartless Wars, on a planet where the sky was ruled by airships and the people lived in a state of Calm, dwelt such a Warrior. His eyes narrowed, taking on a rodential shine. Yes…yes, she would be perfect. He tore his attention from the figure in front of him, fighting for her life against innumerable odds. His gaze came to the name of the planet where he would soon be going.

It was called Spira.

All things considered, Paine thought her day was going rather well. She had slept well the night before, for once not having any nightmares, and so awoke refreshed and ready to face whatever the day thew at her. Which the day seemed to take as a challenge, because from the time she left the Travel Agency, where she was staying, to, well…now, she had done nothing but hack away at fiends and brigands.

Not that she was arguing-it was great to feel like she was back in the game. The only problem was: it was a game no one was playing anymore, and fighters like herself were becoming unnecessary, and actually a nuisance to the people of Spira.

She growled quietly as she cleanly sliced the head of the Lupus that had tried to jump her flank.

Apparently, the good people of Spira had forgotten all the previous times that they believed they didn't need fighters. Or the consequences of that false belief.

Still, everywhere she went, she was either met with pity or open hostility.

"We don't need you anymore…stop stirring up trouble…why can't you train for a real job…"

She was becoming angrier the more she thought about it. Luckily, there were plenty of fiends around for her to take her aggravation out on. Another Lupus, the Alpha male she could tell, snarled at her, it's blue-white coat bristling as it arched its back ready to strike. It bared its teeth at her, fangs glistening in the afternoon light, saliva dripping down its jowls. It reared back slightly, then leapt forward, going right for her throat. She dove out of the way, slicing behind her. She hit the Alpha Lupus, but it was only a grazing scratch, and it was instantly back on its feet. Its eyes met hers-ice blue meeting crimson red. A certain degree of understanding came into the canine's eyes. It was face to face with another kind of animal, one much more feral than itself.

Paine's breath was coming in shallow gasps, but her eyes never left the Lupus'. Finally, with a snarl and a bark, it swung its head and retreated, running at break neck speed in the opposite direction.

Paine's brow furrowed. That…wasn't supposed to happen. It had never happened before, and she didn't understand why it had happened just now. She quickly glanced around to see if there were any other enemies about, but the field which had moments ago been swarming with fiends was now strangely deserted. She suppressed a sigh of frustration.

She had always though that a peaceful and quiet life was what she wanted, but that had proved too difficult for her to grasp fully. She was at her core-a Warrior, and always would be. Besides, whenever she sat down quietly, she thought of them.

A few minutes later, she was miles away, having rented a speeder from a dark skinned Al Bhed. The clutch stuck, and there was an irritating grinding sound, but it was fast and she hadn't had to shell out a lot of gil for it. Gil was hard to come by, these days, there was no spheres left, and no one paid reward for the dispatching of fiends.

Despite her lack of income, Paine found herself in an alehouse without even thinking about it. She came to these more and more often as the days went on. She told herself it was to feel out the beat of the area, get a bead on the fiend population, but in reality, it was the last stop of all Warriors in this time of Eternal Calm.

Quietly, she looked around. On one wall was a vid-screen showing a Sphere Break game. She ignored that-she was never good at Sphere Break, and it reminded her too much of-

On another wall was a row of pictures, depicting various scenes from Spira's history. The Zanarkand War, the coming of Sin, the defeat of Sin…Paine stood up, keeping her ale mug in hand. The Defeat of Sin at the hands of High Summoner Yuna. Paine studied the picture intently, her eyes taking in every detail. On the left, Yuna's Guardians-all but one, Paine knew-watched nervously as the fearless Summoner danced, forever the epitome of grace and compassion, her features eternally soft and open. Paine felt emotion-raw and hot and without definition-well up within her.

"No," she whispered, her vision hazing. With a yell, she smashed her ale mug into the picture, the glass shattering from both, and the picture tearing. Immediately, she was set upon by four burly individuals who bore her to the floor. She managed to shake two of them off, but the other two managed to get in a few lucky punches, and she knew if she didn't get out, she would be rendered unconscious. The fighter in her took over, and she became little more than a wild animal, kicking here, biting there, doing anything to get away. She was bereft of her sword, having left it, wrapped up on her speeder. Now she wished she had it so she could-but, no that would be wrong, how could she even consider actually killing these people? They were people for Yevon's sake! She went still, and her attackers believed her to be defeated. Which in a way, she was, but she had lost only to herself. Silently, as blood ran down her nose and pooled on the wooden floor she was lying on, Paine looked inside herself, and found she didn't much care for what she saw. It was darkness, without form or boundaries, growing, trying to take over. She knew she had to fight it, but she was so tired, she just wanted…to…rest…

There was the tunnel, the same as she saw it every night.

Wait, she called, but they couldn't hear her. Why hadn't she asked them to wait then? Rikku went in first, the sound of her child-like laughter echoing off the walls. Yuna turned, smiled at her, then disappeared into the blackness.

No!

She tried to sit up but found she could not. She hurt everywhere, especially her face. It was dark, and she wondered if her attackers had thrown her into a prison. She felt warm.

Her silver hair snaked over her red eyes, the locks feeling wet and coarse. Paine looked down, trying to get her bearings. She was wrapped in a blanket, but strapped down by leather binders. She almost started hyperventilating; she had never liked being confined, that was one reason she had always wanted an airship, to be in open space.

Stay focused, she told herself, and forced herself to relax.

"Ah, I see you're awake," a voice in the darkness called. Paine had learned early on to read people by their tones and pitch. Without even seeing the speaker, she could tell he was a coward, in a place he didn't want to be, but was enjoying lording his superior position over her. She also knew she wouldn't like him.

"Who are you? What do you want?" she demanded. A nervous chuckle was her reply.

"I'm going to let you out now, but you have to promise to behave," the voice said, in a tone that was probably meant to sound soothing but just came off as incredibly patronizing.

"Let me out now, and maybe I won't hurt you," she answered. There was a pause, then she felt her bonds being loosened. She turned her head, and found herself facing a grotesque bionic thing.

"Machina?" she whispered, puzzled.

"Ah, do you like my little robots?" the unseen speaker asked. Paine was not familiar with the word, but didn't reply. The machines did their task quickly, and in a few moments, Paine could sit up. Her back popped in several places, and still felt excruciatingly sore.

Now that she was up, she was able to see a bit better. The room was still dark, but a dull brown light was coming from her left. There she could see the silhouette of a man, hunkered down in chair, by a vid-screen. The screen turned on, giving his face an unnatural greenish tint.

Paine looked down and gave herself a cursory inspection. There didn't seem to be any broken bones, only a few scratches and bruises. She looked back at her 'host'. He had a sharp nose, small eyes, and a full head of fine black hair. She doubted he was much taller than her, but this might also have to do with the fact that he slouched terribly. He didn't seem especially young or old, but he was always looking around as if expecting something to just pop out at him

"Okay, so what do you want with me?" she asked again, rubbing her wrists.

The man swung his chair over near her. Instinctively, she pulled back.

"How would you like to go on a real adventure? Not just wandering from town to town getting into bar fights, but a true fight with real danger. You were once a Gullwing right?"

Paine's eyes narrowed. It wasn't something she advertised, but she wasn't going to lie about it. She nodded, silently.

"Surely you recall the epic battles you fought during that time?"

"We didn't fight for the sake of fighting," Paine informed him, curtly. He nodded vigorously, barely hearing her.

"Of course, of course, but tell me…don't you ever get bored with these little skirmishes?"

Paine didn't answer. He leaned forward, relishing in the moment.

"Don't you ever get tired of being mistreated everywhere you go? Don't you miss being a hero?"

Paine jumped off the table.

"I never thought of myself as a hero," she muttered. She started to walk of, though truth be told, she had no idea where she was going, or where she was.

"What about an explorer? Would you like to do that? Travel on a ship to whole other worlds?"

Paine stiffened. To fly was her greatest joy, something that hadn't changed over the years. But she shook her head.

"I've been everywhere on Spira. There's not a nook on it I'm not familiar with."

She could feel him smile behind her. She turned, crossing her arms over her chest, and giving him her most steely gaze. He cringed, then smiled again, so broadly it looked like his face might split.

"But haven't you ever wanted to see other worlds?"

Paine laughed, harshly.

"What are you talking about? There are no other worlds."

He cocked his head at her.

"Are you sure about that?"

An hour later after he'd filled her in on the mission parameters, and she had eaten a filling, if somewhat tasteless meal, a thought suddenly seemed to occur to him.

"Wait. I take it this means, you don't have a space worthy ship."

Paine shook her head. He-he had called himself Mirt-snapped his fingers.

"Oh, well. I guess we're just going to have to find you a spaceship pilot."

A few worlds away, in a bar very similar to the one Paine was rescued from, another fight was brewing. If the seven guys who were planning on ganging up on the lone figure at the corner table had known his name, they would have left him alone. If they had recognized the Lion insignia he wore around his chest, they would have bought him a drink. But they didn't. What they did know was that they were drunk (but were choosing to ignore this little fact) and he had beat them at a game of cards a half hour ago.

The figure was a young man, tall and strongly built, sitting quietly with a mug that he'd been slowly draining. His hair was dark brown and reached below his shoulders. His eyes were keen, a deep blue that showed more wisdom than could be accumulated in one so young. His most other distinguishing feature was a scar that started above his right eye, slashed down across his nose, and ended below his left eye. A long package rested on the seat next to him, always close by.

The leader of the lynch squad was a huge monster of a man, known as Rut, though no one remembered why. He had bet heavily on a hand that he was sure he had in the bag, only to see it go down in smoke at the stranger's hand.

The stranger looked up as the men approached him, appraised them all silently, then went back to his drink.

"I think you cheated," Rut said simply. The stranger said nothing, just picked up his mug and drained the last of it, taking his time. Then, slowly, he stood up. The men, though they outnumbered him by six, backed up. He seemed to unfold, he was so tall and imposing, and he exuded that quiet confidence that they should have taken as a warning.

"Listen, mister, I don't want any trouble. But I don't appreciate being called a cheat or a liar. Why don't I get you a drink, and we'll forget this whole thing?" His voice was low, and he spoke in an even voice, almost a monotone, but there was an underlying aggression that Rut and his inebriated friends should have paid attention to.

Rut half turned and looked ready to back off.

"Okay, okay. How about-"

Instead of finishing the sentence, he swung at the stranger. If the blow had landed it would have likely broken some bones, but instead Rut's fist met only air. He looked around, confused. A tap on his shoulder, and a gasp from his friends made him spin around. The last thing he saw was the stranger's fist, right before it broke his nose. One of his buddies leapt at the stranger, wielding an ale bottle. The stranger blocked his blow, and flipped him over his back, dropping him on the table, which buckled under his weight. Two more flew at the stranger, but he just had to back up and they, not seeing very well, smacked into each other. The stranger grabbed the head of another companion and snapped it against his knee, rewarded by a gratifying crunch. A quick elbow to the stomach of one and a single punch to the other and the fight was over. It had taken less than forty-five seconds for him to take them all down.

Quietly, he picked up the package on the chair, which was the only piece of furniture still intact in that section of alehouse. A glint of silver, a flash of a lion's jaw that was all anyone could see. The other patrons gave the stranger a wide-berth. He threw a few coins at the barman as he passed, and headed to the doorway.

"Hey, hey wait!" the barman called. The stranger sighed, then turned around, his head tilted to one side and stared at the barman.

"What's your name? I mean, come on, you trashed my bar, you could at least tell me your name."

The stranger looked at the floor for a while, half shrugged, then turned around. He took a step forward before the barman called,

"Hey!"

"It's Leon," the stranger threw over his shoulder, again, so quiet, you thought you'd have to strain to hear him, yet everyone did. There was a gasp from the other patrons, and the Gunblade Wielder left, the sounds of indiscreet murmurs echoing behind him.

Leon.