Author's Note: Not quite sure what to say about this fic really, it's just me trying my hand at something new again. Suffice to say you'll need an open mind, it's a paranormal story so in that sense, not all that realistic. Hope that you all enjoy regardless of the oddness!

Wicked Strange

'One Look'

FRIDAY MORNING

02:00

Rinoa stumbled into the ladies toilets, narrowly missing the girl with the thigh high boots, and took hold of the sink in order to steady herself. The round of shots she had just done with the random people she had only just met, were now buzzing around in her blood. She was in no doubt that she was only moments away from passing out. Peering at herself in the mirror, she saw the other girls swarming around in the background, laughing and gossiping, all swaying with alcohol. It took a moment for Rinoa to stop watching the scene behind her and look back at her own face.

Her eyeliner was so smudged that it no longer lined anything, and there was nothing left of her metallic blue eye shadow. Her lip-gloss had been licked away long ago, and her hair was sticky with sweat. Her brain couldn't register the face before her as being a mess, but instead told her hands to fish her makeup from her bag. With her eyeliner reapplied in thick dark lines, and smudged into place with her finger, and her hand in her dark hair, artistically ruffling it, she thought that she had rescued her look. But may have thought differently had she not been seeing double.

Someone bumped into her arm as they reached for the sink also. Rinoa turned to see a smaller girl fumbling in her bag before taking out a lipstick. She smiled as she saw Rinoa looking at her, and then returned to the mirror. Rinoa stared at the girl's hair, the ends flicked upwards, and the tiny black dress she was wearing. She looked down and saw yellow go-go boots. She suddenly wished that this girl was her friend. There was no reasoning behind her thoughts.

Pushing herself away from the sink, Rinoa wandered back out into the crowds of the club. She ignored the group of men who were trying to get her attention, by pushing their hands away as she walked past. She hated blokes like that; who thought a girl should stop and pay them attention just because they said so.

Rinoa had a tried and tested criteria for the men she dated. Preferably she didn't meet them in clubs, but a girl couldn't be too picky. If a man got onto the dancefloor, and danced without being embarrassed, then she'd pay him some attention. The ones that stood around and watched were probably too afraid to make a fool of themselves, and who wanted to date someone so serious?

Even with a few drinks inside of her Rinoa could dance better than most. Her father had paid a lot of money for dancing lessons when she was a kid. Ballet, tap, jazz, and as she had gotten older it had developed into an obsession. Not that that kind of dancing was welcomed here. But it at least helped her to find the beats in the music. Most people came here to drink and find other likeminded people, but for Rinoa, drinking was just a distraction. She came to dance.

"Dance with me," someone shouted into her ear as she swayed on the dancefloor.

She flinched as his voice scorched her ear and backed away. What made this guy think she would want to? She was dancing with her friends, and hadn't looked his way even once. There was nowhere for her to escape to, and he seemed to think her lack of an answer as invitation to start some kind of weird 'bump and grind' on her leg.

Fine, Rinoa thought, if you want to dance with me then you'll have to keep up. Pushing him backwards she slowly dipped down to the floor, only to find that the guy was still trying his sleazy move. Pushing him back again she continued to dance, swaying her hips fiercely with the beat. She didn't care if he thought she was a tease, she hadn't asked him to look her way, and she didn't want his grabby hands on her either.

"Aw come on!" he whined as he was pushed him away again.

Annoyed, Rinoa hurried back to her friends, who seemed to find the man's effort amusing.

Eventually giving up, the guy turned away, and Rinoa felt herself relax again into the music. As the strobe lights flashed over her head and blinded her, her eyes flickered to the bar, and met another. The lights flashed and she lost him in the mass of people.

Seifer said it was best to keep an eye on the other side. These creeps could sneak ahead if your head was turned. You needed a sharp eye. They prayed on the emotions of others, and there was no other place in the world where so many emotions filled the same room at once. With the flashing lights came frustration, confusion, excitement, love, envy, and there was nowhere where the feeling of loneliness was more poignant. All those people enjoying themselves, and there were always those who looked on and wished that it was them. They were sweet prey, willing to surrender in their misery.

Squall ordered drinks to pass the time. Of all the places they hunted, this was his least favourite. He even preferred the dark alleyways, and creepy abandoned houses they often hung out in, but this was a world he didn't understand. Alcohol burned his throat but the warming feeling it created was worth the taste. It was one the rare things humans had got right.

Seifer had brought his pet pixie along for the night, or rather, hadn't argued when she had suggested accompanying them. She belonged to Seifer through an old magic debt, that wouldn't set her free until she'd fulfilled it. Whatever that meant. All Squall knew was that she had arrived after they had freed a small pixie town of its unwelcome visitors. Now she wouldn't ever leave them alone.

Selphie was useful to have around some of the time, but mostly she just caused more havoc. She had a small amount of magic to use, but she frequently disobeyed what was asked of her. But when her mind was set against the Bleaks, then she was a formidable force.

The Bleaks were the reason Squall and Seifer were here. Many years ago they had been called to fight this odd foe, but had never been sent back to their own dimension. In a way they were trapped. Doomed to destroy Bleaks for all eternity. The ones that had called for their aid were long since dead. But no matter how many were eradicated, there were always more to take their place. Squall had a suspicion that he would never again go home, not until he had killed every last Bleak in the world. But he never shared this thought with Seifer. There was no point in them both despairing.

Looking across the room, his eyes spotted Selphie, surrounded by people who were drawn by her otherworldly glow. She attracted people; it was a pixie gift, excellent for causing mischief. Squall supposed that as far as the fairy folk go, Selphie wasn't so bad… he'd met far worse.

With his gaze following Selphie, he caught sight of a girl with dark hair and eyes darkened with kohl heading out onto the dancefloor. Predictably he watched her catch the attention of a group of men, but surprisingly she ignored them. He watched her intently, not thinking why, until Seifer called his interest.

"The Bleaks like her," he said looking at the dark haired girl also. "I wonder what she feels."

Seifer's question sharpened Squall's perception. The Bleaks swirled around her in a dark blanket, touching her exposed skin without her even knowing. Squall's fist clenched, and he reached for his gun, but Seifer grabbed his arm.

"No, not here, too many people," he warned.

Squall pulled his arm away. Seifer was right. They always waited until either the people went home, or the Bleaks drifted away. Tonight they seemed transfixed on this girl, but she didn't notice them. Usually the prey would feel unwell by now, but she continued to dance as if they weren't there.

Squall frowned. His intense glare must have caught her interest, as she looked his way. Closing his eyes against her questioning, he disappeared into the crowd. She would forget she even looked his way, her mind would tell her it was a trick of the light, just a face in the crowd. He wouldn't meet her gaze because those that got close always got hurt.

03:00

"The Bleak can appear as dark shadows, but thick and sticky, as if you could choke on it," the fair-haired man said, stirring the freshly poured coffee in his cup. He looked up at the blonde girl, taking notes at the opposite end of the table. She looked interested, but not impressed. "No one knows where they came from. It is thought they did not originate on this planet. Or even… this universe…"

The blonde girl wrote this down faithfully, word for word, and then she looked closer at her page. Was he having her on? She was supposed to be listening to 'true' stories of the paranormal, not the fantasies of a teenage boy. She stared at him with a frown, searching his face for the telltale signs of a liar. She saw none.

"Not in this universe? What do you mean by that? Where else would they have come from, that is, if such a thing as these bleaks exist?"

Zell Dincht stirred his coffee some more. She must really be dedicated to her job if she was prepared to come here at this hour to talk fairy stories with him. It was because she had agreed to this hour that he was even bothering with the truth. She wasn't like the other investigators, who were out to make quick buck off the back of a paranormal thriller… she actually cared.

"There is more than one universe," he said, watching her eyes first confused and then turning to doubt. She was a girl brought up on hard science, where everything had an answer, even if it was still waiting to be discovered. She would not be easy to convince.

"Like another dimension?" she asked, her mind pouring out images of all the sci-fi films she had ever watched, with people disappearing into a flash of light, or into a teleporter.

"Yes," he said. "There are other dimensions, but no one knows which one the Bleak came from. Or who controls them. All I know is, they feed on emotions, and they can manipulate. They're dangerous."

As Quistis Trepe watched, she thought she saw the tattoo on the side of his face gleam. He was by far the most normal of 'magicians' she had seen. He didn't dress like the others in top hats and tails, or have a long beard and hippy clothes. Apart from the curious markings on the side of his face, he looked as sane as she was, or, there abouts.

"These Bleaks…" she said, choosing her words carefully. She didn't want to sound as if she had bought into the story, or that she hadn't. She wanted to sound curious, but not desperate. "Can you see them?" This was the best lead she'd had in a long time.

"Can you?" he asked clearly amused.

Quistis looked at his cup, it was empty. She didn't remember seeing him drink anything. She shook her head. She was beginning to feel uncomfortable, as if something wasn't right. Her heart began to pound with the excitement that told her, she might have found something real.

"I see them when they stalk prey. You can let yourself out I suppose?" he said.

Quistis looked towards the door.

"But…"

She stopped. He was no longer sitting at the table, nor was he even in the room.