Final Fantasy: Revisited

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy, as well as the Pentagon, isn't mine at all. Nope, not even a little bit is mine. The only thing that is mine is the story, and NOT the characters. But if I did, hooooo man, there'd be a massive party at my place… Seriously, don't sue me.

Chapter 1: Beginnings

The wind slowly blew across the lonely branches of a pine tree. It moved the branch back and forth, and then left it to go elsewhere. Softly and slowly it moved, casually and relentlessly over the outskirts of the great metropolis known as Seattle. The sun was still hours from displaying its warming, inspirational light to the mostly docile city, and only the occasional peace was disturbed by the cry of a flock of seagulls finding their meals for the morning or the dull sputter or an engine moving its owner to the nearest Starbucks for a pick me up.

Onward the wind went, lazing across the vacant streets in an unorthodox, lulling path into a normal cul-de-sac, completely devoid of movement. Moving around a particular house, it moved around all of the upper windows of the two story abode, pausing briefly to try to make passage into each room. Noting that all the windows were tightly locked and its occupants were resting peacefully, it moved downwards. It suddenly felt drawn to a particular window on the bottom floor. Its path became straighter as it moved fairly quickly into the open window.

The fan resting snugly inside the window suddenly blew a strong, cold chill into Bruce's room, waking him up from a slumber for what seemed like the 10th time that night. Bruce felt the arctic air blow straight into his eyes, making him painfully aware that his eyes were still burning with the lack of sleep he's been having the last couple of nights.

Mumbling a curse his mother would kill him for hearing, he rolled slowly out of bed and into his brown slippers stationed faithfully beside him.

Yawning with a soft sigh he padded softly up the stairs into the kitchen, careful not to wake his mother or, for that matter, either of his sisters. Not wanting his eyes to hurt anymore than they had to, he walked over to the other side of the small kitchen to turn on the stove light so he wouldn't have to suffer another stubbed toe. Peeking warily into the refrigerator, he looked for anything to stifle the nonexistent hunger he had. 'Jeez, no more Lunchables...? Someone's gonna die tomorrow...' He thought angrily as he shut the door and went back downstairs, unaware that he didn't turn off the stove light.

Bruce made his way into the small bathroom placed conveniently at the foot of the stairs. Fumbling with the lights, he quickly relieved himself, calmly thinking over his late insomnia. 'Why am I always up nowadays? This isn't making any sense…. I haven't had any late night snack attacks' Bruce hissed as the cold water of the faucet splashed across his hands. 'I really need some strong sleeping pills… Maybe just some cough medicine will do…' He chuckled to himself. 'Then again, I don't want to die from overdose. I've got more gaming to do before I die.'

Turning off the faucet, he slowly dried up his hands with a towel. 'Man, I wonder if my friend will let me borrow his PS2 again…' Unbeknownst to his friends, Bruce had only played FFX once and already it was his favorite RPG. He began to order everything he could get his hands on via eBay, and he downloaded sheet music for the songs. He was just mad that it ended so soon, and with such a crappy end boss. But still, that didn't stop the FFX syndrome to enter his veins. Too bad all that time on the couch went to his frame a little more then he wanted.

Bruce turned around to look at himself in the mirror. Grayish blue eyes stared back at him that were worried with fatigue, only reminding him of his need to watch Lord of the Rings again in order for a cure to his problem. His eyes traveled up, regrettably, to his hair, which was now tousled in a flurry of midnight black going 4 inches in every direction. He groaned audibly to curse the gods for giving him such frustrating hair, and to thank them for hair gel. In a lame attempt to slick his hair back, he wet his hand with a little bit of water and let it drag across his head.

Bruce looked at his hands as they were moving vainly across his scalp. 'Surprising how much potential was in those hands,' he thought to himself. Ever since he was able to remember, he was always good with his hands. He got a bass guitar for his 10th birthday, and has learned to be very good at it. Ever since people found out he could play the underground Mario theme, everyone looked up to him for his quirky and strange sense of humor. He has grown up to become a valuable asset to any group, willing to play anything and everything just because of the way it made him feel.

But recently, he hasn't been feeling the familiar love that he was once used to.

Shaking his head as if to clear up the dark cloud of thought that hit him, he continued to assess himself with a tinge of regret since he wasn't able to fix the hair problem. His eyes went down to his torso, now hidden behind a solid black t shirt with a picture of a Nintendo controller and the words "Know Your Roots" scribbled above it. He inwardly kicked himself as he realized what was under that seemingly loose shirt. Until he graduated the year before, he always worked out every day, and had hardened up the loose pack he kept under his shirt and made him, at the very least, unashamed to bare his chest in public. Once he received his diploma, however, he had started to divulge his daily ritual of pushups, sit-ups, and low-carb dieting, giving him a little of a belly, but not enough for anyone else to notice without really looking.

He noticed, though.

His lower attire was modest. Spongebob Squarepants boxer shorts given to him as a gag for his latest birthday, along with cigarettes and a magazine he had to throw out for obvious reasons, living with three nosy women.

Yawning, he looked once more at himself before shutting off the light with an audible click, and knocking over the toothbrush holder. He didn't care. He was exhausted.

Bruce stumbled down the hall into the den, and looked at the red loveseat in the middle of the room as if it was an oasis. He pried his eyes away enough to find the remote, turn on the tv, and pop in Lord of the Rings before he practically stumbled into the loveseat, slipping off his slippers in a last-minute thought before curling himself up into a comfortable half-ball and watching the movie with mild interest. Before long, he found himself slowly fluttering his eyelids in a battle for consciousness until he realized this was a battle he wasn't going to win and, finally, went to sleep.

With what seemed like hours later, Bruce opened his eyes with a start, feeling completely refreshed. He scrubbed at his eyes to get the gunk out, and then stood up, full of a need to seize the day. Glancing at the tv, he saw the static fuzz glaring back at him. 'Must have finished,' he thought.

With one look out of the window, his start to a good day turned into a miserable crash back into reality in one instant, as he saw the sun hasn't even showed up yet.

"Dammit!" he cried very audibly. Quickly, he shut his mouth with a click and listened for the lecture from his mother not to swear. Sometimes she can be a real pain. Bruce 'mm hmm'ed' at his thought and went back into his room.

The many posters greeted him, as they always did. Lara Croft with her dual pistols staring back at him, and Homer Simpson with his many poses in his underwear giving him a small glimpse of humor in the dark hours. He glanced at his clock on his dresser next to his bed.

The clock menacingly showed him a 5, a 2 and another 5.

With a new passion for sleep, Bruce determinedly closed his door, threw himself onto his bed and closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to overcome him. He needed, needed, sleep right away, either that, or he'd just put on Lord of the Rings again.

After that seemed like forever, Bruce screamed in his pillow.

And again.

And hit it several times.

After calming himself down in short breaths, Bruce climbed out of bed again to move into the den, ready to watch Lord of the Rings again to help him. He padded over to the remote control where he left it, next to the sofa. Glancing around for it, he moved to the other side of the loveseat, looking for the remote. Wasn't there either, he thought.

Then, he found it…

Stationed comfortably above the television set.

'Weird,' he thought, with lack of a better term so early in the morning. As he grabbed it, he finally noticed the change. He would have noticed it earlier, if it wasn't for his subconscious being slow into getting up.

The tv was static. Usually, it goes back into the dvd menu, right? He stopped in mid reach. 'Someone was down here, but I would have heard them, at least I thought I would have. They looked pretty asleep when I….'

Suddenly, his train of thought stopped when he saw a picture flicker across the screen.

Tensing up his shoulders, he began to absent-mindedly stare at the screen, trying to make out the picture. 'Man, I knew something was wrong with this disc,' he noted as he cautiously opened the disc holder and pulled the disc out, quickly checking for scratches.

The picture didn't stop flickering.

Bruce flung the movie across the den, cursing the British as it landed in the corner next to his computer. He then turned his attention back to the screen. 'What the….' He scooted closer to the screen, still watching the glitching screen carefully.

The screen then began to focus, fixing on one screen with an almost powerful intensity that made Bruce jump back a little.

Bruce felt the bile rise in his throat as he realized what the picture was.

"Sin."

He saw it before, of course, he's played the game before, and he knew exactly what it was, but he was scared, nonetheless. Not scared, no. Freaked out of his mind was more like it. Too freaked out to move, Bruce just stood up slowly, unable to take his eyes off of the monstrosity that was sitting comfortably on his screen. Questions came all at once, how did it get on the screen, why am I not turning off the tv, why is the noise so loud…

The creature known as Sin studied Bruce's face intently, as if piercing into his soul with each eye of his. Bruce shuddered with the force of its gaze on him. It began moving slightly, as if waiting patiently for something. Bruce began to move to turn off the set, but something was horribly wrong.

He couldn't budge from the place he was in. Someone, something was stopping him.

Bruce frantically sent signals to his arm, telling it to do something other than just hover there, but nothing moved. His eyes remained glued to the screen, and he knew that this was no ordinary glitch.

His premonition was further confirmed as he saw the light begin to filter from the television. The eerie blue light started along the edges before moving into the center. It began to get closer to the screen, always pushing its boundary as far as it could go. So close, in fact, that Bruce felt the light cross his face, which was now inches away from the screen.

In an instant, the calm light shot outwards in a loud blare, and suddenly the den was filled with brightness. The beams shot along all of the walls, covering the whole room in a blue blur of symbols and circles that furiously turned and turned until the room itself was enclosed.

Bruce was now able to tug his eyes away from the tv, only to see that he was no longer in the comfort of his den by the looks of it. His vision was blurred by a bright bluish hue everywhere he could see. He looked down and to his dismay, he was not sure if he was even able to do anything about it. 'Man, I sure hope I'm dreaming this now, I don't need to start seeing a shrink…' Bruce began to pinch himself and prayed that they started feeling pain in a dream.

Then, the light around him closed into a large sphere, closing him inside. Bruce panicked, clawing frantically at the walls that he felt only smooth...heat. He quickly withdrew his hand, seeing the faint hint of smoke fading quickly from his fingers, accepting his demise. 'This is it,' He thought to himself. 'All that crap about aliens is starting to come back to haunt me… I swear, I'll never deny a hillbilly's words again.' He hopelessly shouted for anyone, anything, a sign that he still had his sanity left as he felt his body begin to lose gravity and float into the sphere he was now a part of. 'I'll never see my friends again….or anyone I love… oh my God, I'll never get laid!' Bruce wasn't one for crying, but as those words started to hit home, he felt a tear trickle down his cheek. The hum of the light surrounding him began to rise into a whine, higher in pitch with each passing second. The light in synonymous to this, grew lighter and lighter, until Bruce could only shut his eyes and hear his impending doom grow nearer. In one last act of defiance, he screamed as loud as he could. Maybe his mother could hear him and help.

Then again, she hasn't heard any of this as yet.

Bruce began to feel very…odd. Like his stomach has been suddenly stretched, and slammed back again. He opened his eyes one last time to see his hands in front of him. He continued to stare at them, as if to prove he still was alive. Then, his hands suddenly stretched to an unimaginable state before moving to the center of the enclosure and disappearing. Bruce let out a strangled cry in horror as he saw his arms begin to stretch, following the path of his hands earlier. His eyes opened wide, unable to describe the feeling of having one's arms stretched out but not destroyed. He immediately did the lamest thing he could think of.

"Now I lay me down to sleep,

I pray the Lord my soul to keep,

And if I die before I wake…"

Bruce felt his head get light, and then closed his eyes, unable to see what would happen to the rest of him as his stomach lurched, and the rest of him descended into the vacuum of light before him.

Author's notes: So, whatcha think? It's my first fanfic, and I plan on going a lot farther than this with the whole thing. Like, a whole heck of a lot more. Please, constructive criticism is always appreciated. I need to know if I'm doing it right. Thanks for reading.