Oooh, I've done it now. Despite telling myself not to time and again, I've gone and begun writing a chaptered Hoperai fic. This is set after the events of Lightning Returns: Final Fantasy XIII and contains spoilers for the game as well as content from the novel.

Choose for Happiness

To the new world, filled with promises.

Prologue: Best to let dead gods lie.

Inside a small, cold shack deep in the mountains, next to a single, cracked window dyed rose with fresh blood, Hope smiled.

His smile was pleasant even though his gut churned. The happy future he'd wished for with all his heart and soul was being snatched away from him once again right before his eyes. One might, at this point, even be able to say as usual. Dear, but he was no stranger to adversity. It was almost funny in a completely ironic sort of way. He sort of wanted to laugh. He wished he could.

The large, smartly dressed man standing before him frowned at his expression. "I wonder if you understand the situation you're in, Mr. Estheim," he stated coolly, adjusting his dark tinted glasses with a finger. He looked as though he'd learned how to dress by google image searching 'shady crook'.

Hope's eyes flicked around the inside of the cabin, first to the frosty, blood smattered window, then to the moth-eaten carpet where two men lay dead, their broken bodies bleeding through the material to drip down into the cracks between the ancient floorboards, and finally to the remaining two men who stood guard at the door, their impassive faces trained strictly ahead, not displaying even the faintest interest in the scene before them.

His gaze returned to the man in front of him. "What you want isn't something that I can give you," he said simply.

The dim light of the cabin reflected briefly off the man's glasses as he shifted his neck slightly. "That would be unfortunate news for us were it the truth."

Hope's gaze didn't waver, even as the shaded man stepped forward and knelt before him so that they were closer to eye-level. He could see his own breath puff out across the floor from where his chin dug into the stiff, old rug and it momentarily clouded his view of the man's shaded face. The sharp knee keeping his body trapped against the floor pushed down harder at the man's change in proximity.

"However," he continued, "our organization has already confirmed your ability to complete the task I've just finished explaining to you."

This time Hope really did chuckle. This guy was clearly off his rocker. There was a limit to foolishness. The man's expression hardened at his laughter, and Hope awarded him with his most charming smile as he brazenly stated, "Go to hell."

Pain flashed through Hope's skull as the man kicked him hard in the jaw with a polished, black shoe. "Put him under," Shades ordered the person keeping Hope incapacitated. "I don't want to deal with him right now and I'd rather not lose any more men."

There was an affirmative noise from the man on top of him, and then Hope felt a needle prick the inside of his elbow. No! He violently jerked his body, trying to dislodge his captor. The shaded man pulled a sleek black pistol from inside his suit jacket and trained it on Hope's face. "Don't struggle or I'll shoot."

Hope laughed humorlessly and continued to thrash. There was no way Shades would kill him. No, Hope was too crucial a part of their plans. The two men guarding the door rushed over just as he managed to throw his captor off, drawing guns of their own. So boring. The weapons of this world are so boring, Hope thought as he grabbed the man who'd been holding him by the front of his shirt and threw him into Shades.

A shot rang out as the impact of the collision caused Shades' finger to tighten on the trigger. Hope utilized the ensuing confusion to tackle one of the guards and take his gun. He swiftly repositioned it in his grip and fired a bullet cleanly into the thug's skull. The guard dropped like a sack of meat and Hope raced for the door without sparing a second look at the man he'd just killed.

There was another shot and Hope felt a bullet glance off his collarbone. He staggered but didn't fall. If he fell now, he'd be finished. With startling precision, he swiveled around and fired at the second guard. Blood splattered across the floor and the cracked window shattered as the bullet's trajectory took it through the man's throat and out into the frozen night. That made four men now whom Hope had stolen lives from this night. So much for a fresh start.

Hope yanked the door to the shack open and darted out into the woods, immediately thankful for the cover of the trees as more shots rang out behind him. Soon, he would be free. Soon. He just had to shake the rest of that man's goons, and then everything would be okay. He could work things out from there.

Hope didn't know how long he'd run. He didn't stop until he'd long since ceased hearing sounds of pursuit, and he thanked his long legs and regular exercise routine for that. He staggered over to a tree, breathing hard, and leaned his uninjured shoulder against it. He felt his eyes droop and let out a curse. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a filled syringe and removed the cap. Carefully, he lowered the tip to his arm and injected the clear fluid into his bloodstream. Thank God for foresight, he thought as he tossed the now empty syringe away. The shot would counteract the tranquilizer Shades' goon had given him. On second thought, let's not thank God, he amended. He's the one who got me into this mess.

Hope slid to the ground, panting. He clutched his shoulder and hissed as pain zinged down his left arm. At least it wasn't his dominant arm—thank the cosmos for small blessings. Still, he needed to get the wound treated and he had absolutely no idea how he was going to do that. He was stuck out in the mountains in the dead of winter with no clue how to get to the nearest town, much less home, and he was positive those men hadn't given up their search for him. No, not raving zealots like them.

He looked up at the dark sky and smiled wryly. "Bhunivelze..." he muttered, addressing the heavens.

If only he could forget that name. If only he could be done with gods and plots. If only he could just live in peace. "I can't shake you, can I? I'll be fighting you for the rest of my life."

There was no reply and Hope was almost disappointed.

He closed his eyes, and behind his eyelids an image formed. He saw Lightning in all her beautiful ferocity and his ears rang with her righteous cry. In the new world, we won't need God!

No, he agreed, wrapping his arms around himself to conserve heat. But that won't stop people from wanting one.

Shivering, he picked himself up and continued his trek in the direction his internal navigation sense told him that civilization was most likely to lie.

oO0Oo

Short, but it's a just a prologue. I expect this story to be around five chapters long, but we'll see how that goes. Stories have a nasty habit of doing what they want.

Let me know what you think, and I'll see you in the next chapter!