The principal characters and the general structure of this story belong to Square/Enix. I have borrowed them to make a point or so. This is the third variation on the same theme I have written. I apologize for the inadequacy of the second one and am thinking about rewriting much of it. This one takes the original plot in another direction. I am having more fun with this that I am entitled to have.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Whispers

Two men occupied a Whisper Room, the remains of a light meal scattered on the table between them. They had been there for almost an hour and had said little during that time. The room in which they sat was typical of the genre. Such places had received their name from the fact that most of the business conducted in them was of a secret nature, private to those who assembled there and often expressed in low voiced conversation and furtive exchanges of notes and coin. Those in this particular room were not plotters of the usual sort, but rather two former acquaintances who had shared much in the past and were now meeting for the first time in some years.

The taller of the pair pushed back from the table and stretched his legs into the space thus afforded. "Well, that's done. We have broken the bread of peace together and guaranteed no violence will occur between us. Now – why did you summon me here?"

The other, smaller man leaned his elbows on the surface before him and shrugging back his cloak to reveal the brilliant colors of sacerdotal robes, smiled, "I thought you might be interested in a sort of reunion."

"Reunion? Have you mistaken me for someone else? I am not aware of any groups which care to claim me as a member. I am "the cat who walks by himself". With whom do you propose I meet for this celebration?"

The priest, for his attire identified him as such, laughed lightly. "You know exactly who I'm talking about. You aren't so distracted you've forgotten the days we spent in the desert, the four of us, trying out for the Crimson Squad."

"Oh, that group. No, I haven't forgotten, merely dismissed the memory. It was, what - seven, ten years ago? Why do you want to remember that time? It was wretchedly uncomfortable and ended badly." He shifted his legs slightly and the left one gleamed in a faint shaft of light in the dim room.

"Only because you tried to kill the other three of us. And that was because you weren't in your right mind. No, we had some good days before that." The white-haired man lapsed into a dreamy silence.

"Baralai, has your ascension to Praetor gone to your head? There was nothing about those days that was good. We were stuck in the middle of a desert, with sand getting into everything from my arm and leg to your eyes. We didn't have enough water; we were spied on by a cadre of homicidal idiots who wouldn't issue us sufficient ammunition to defend ourselves or decent weapons for the ammunition we had. What in the name of all that is holy and decent is worth remembering?" the dark-haired man glared through his spectacles.

The priest ignored the protests of his companion. "Do you know where Paine has got to? We lost track of her in the upheaval after we killed Vegnagun and laid Shuyin and Lenne to rest. The last I heard she was with the Gullwings, but they told Gippal she left more than a year ago."

"No." the man with the machina leg shook his head, sending the braids and the long lock beside his face swinging in the dusty air. "I wasn't interested in keeping up with any of the others. I had some other affairs to settle."

Baralai raised a brow with curiosity but did not dare question the other directly. There was something about the man in the scarlet clothing which did not invite familiarity. "Well, if you don't know where she is, who would you suggest we ask? Nooj, will you at least consider joining us if we can find her?"

The man addressed as Nooj picked up the carafe on the table and poured himself a glass of wine. After a moment's hesitation, he also refilled the glass on the other side of the table. "I will consider it. Although I am foolish to say so since I have no idea what you are proposing I join you in doing. Do you just want the four of us to meet together and share a meal and the odd memory?"

"Partly. Do you want to hear what has happened to me in the last five years?" Again the priest avoided answering a question directly.

"If you want to tell me. You should remember I never pried into your life when we were training together. I am not greatly concerned with the private concerns of other people." He replied indifferently.

"And you never told any of your own, either. I don't know how much you noticed of what happened between Gippal and me..."

"I am discreet, not blind." Nooj muttered. "You were lovers, that was obvious enough. For a while I had thought you and Paine – but then I paid more attention and saw how things lay."

Baralai laughed brittlely. "You have never succeeded in making a deliberate joke but someone accidental ones show up now and then. Yes, we were lovers. We still are. The church is oddly lenient about that. I can't marry and hold my position but I can have a lover like Gippal and not a word is said no matter how blatant we are."

"Then it has worked out well for you?" The dark man was barely able to conceal his boredom. He shifted restlessly in his chair, sliding further down on his spine.

"You might say so," the Praetor smiled again. "We mostly live at the temple but about every two weeks, Gippal makes a trip to Djose where the Al Bhed have set up their headquarters. They look up to him as a hero, you know, and he is kind of their informal leader, so he feels like he ought to ..." Seeing the lack of interest in the face across the table, he dragged to a clumsy stop.

Silence filled the room, seeping into the grimy curtains, which covered the walls as a gesture toward sound-proofing, and winding its tendrils among the thin rays of light which had worked their way through the chinks in the window hangings. It was an uncomfortable silence, the sort which forms when there is nothing left for polite strangers to talk about.

Nooj reached for his cane and made the necessary adjustment preparatory to rising.

"You aren't leaving yet!" Baralai cried out in dismay.

"Why not? I told you I would consider your proposal if you found Paine. You haven't located her yet so I cannot make a decision. Do you have something else to say?"

"No! Yes! Please don't go. I need to talk to you." The man with white hair reached across the table to seize the sleeve of the other.

"Talk then. I can spare a little more time." Nooj fastidiously disengaged the fingers clutching at his garment.

"I didn't tell you everything." The priest bowed his face in his hands. "Things aren't going as well between Gippal and me as ... as they used to."

The man who had been Meyvn of the Youth League looked up warily. "What do you expect me to do about it? I'm no advisor to the love-lorn."

"I don't expect you to be. Here's the story - ... I don't know how to say this ... It is hard for me to express..." He nervously cleared his throat. "Gippal ... well, he's Al Bhed, you know. And he's young at heart and likes a good brawl." Another long pause. "I'm a pretty dry stick compared to him. Nooj, I've never been much of a fighter, not like him. Oh, I can fight all right when I have to but I don't enjoy it like the rest of you. And I can't help but think when he goes to Djose and mixes with the other Al Bhed ... how much more exciting and desirable they must seem to him than I am."

Nooj tried, with limited success, to conceal a wolfish smile. "So, where is this leading? I am not sure what you expect me to do."

Baralai blushed painfully scarlet up to the roots of his cotton-colored hair. "I know I'm not being clear about this. I just thought if we four got together we might do a little fiend hunting and ..."

"And make you look good to your boy-friend?" This time, he did not even try to hide his amusement. "Is that what this is all about?"

The priest looked down at his tightly laced fingers and nodded shamefully. "Yes, I guess so." He look up with pleading eyes. "I really do want to see you and Paine again and talk about old times, but I guess I thought ..."

"Forget it, Baralai. It won't work. For starters, you don't even know where Paine is and I'm not interested in setting up a scenario to show off your more belligerent qualities. I have better things to do." Nooj tossed back the last of his wine and prepared to rise.

"What things?" His fellow challenged him, "What are you doing now? You never said."

"When did you give me a chance? You were too occupied with your own affairs to question mine." The answer came with a sneer but the man dropped back into his pose in the chair.

"I didn't think..."

"You rarely did, even when you were younger and I was keeping you alive in the desert." The former Meyvn slouched lower and looked from under his brows. "Pour some more wine and we'll talk a little longer." He rested his head against the the chair back and let his lids drop shut.

"Well," the priest said as he replaced the stopper in the carafe. "You know what my life has been like. What has become of you?"

"I have survived, reluctantly, but survived. I left the Youth League shortly after the Vegnagun business."

"I knew that. It was there I looked for you first. They told me you had bid them goodbye and disappeared." Baralai picked up his glass.

Nooj, without opening his eyes or shifting his position, lazily drawled, "I am curious, Praetor. How did you track me down?"

"It wasn't easy," the other answered. "For such a unique figure, you have a knack for fading into the landscape. I asked everybody I could think of and finally Yuna said she heard you had been seen around Luca, near the wharfs. So I came there and and waited until I spotted you that day."

Nooj did not answer at first. He stared aimlessly at the empty glass in his hand then reached for the carafe and refilled it. "I don't know if you have the stomach to hear what I've been doing," he finally said. "You always were a little delicate about such things."

Baralai looked up sharply. "Have you been doing something illegal? Something wrong?"

The lame man laughed, not a pleasant laugh. "Now, priest, you know my integrity. Would I do something wrong? Have you ever known me to do something wrong?" Mockery glittered in the eyes behind the lens. "No, I have been doing something profoundly right. I have become a one-man avenging force. I have been amusing myself by ridding the planet of some of the human detritus which afflicts it. In plainer words, I have made of myself an executioner. Extra-legal, of course. I take those who have eluded justice or those whom justice cannot touch." He mocked himself no less savagely than he attacked his adversaries.

"You've been going around killing people? What gives you the right to do that?" The Praetor was shocked.

"I give myself that right. I am a man of steady judgment who is not afraid of death. Who better to shorten the time on this world for the vicious and the evil? Besides, I enjoy it."

"Enjoy killing? What sort of monster have you become?" The younger man spat across the table.

Nooj tapped his machina foot with his cane. "Exactly the sort you might have expected. You know I have never been sentimental about your sanctity of life nonsense. I have no expectation of some supernatural reward or punishment. I am intelligent and skilled in solving problems. I am the perfect arbiter of right and wrong, the flawless instrument of justice." He looked at his companion with a mild if taunting gaze. "Do you intend to turn me in to the authorities? They would reward you handsomely and they could take some unsolved executions off their books. They would also kill me." He mused hopefully.

"So you are still Taydrcaagan?" Baralai asked when he could muster his self-possession.

"I see Gippal has taught you some Al Bhed. Do you like having another language."

"Don't try to change the subject. You said you enjoyed killing people. What if you learn you have executed an innocent man?"

"I would regret it but count it as part of the cost of the service I do for society. You see, Baralai, I think of myself as a predator – acting to thin the herd, taking out those members who are likely to harm the community as a whole. Without those like me, the world of humanity would be a far less healthy place." Nooj did not smile but there was no regret in either his eyes or his countenance.

The priest shook his head incredulously. "I don't believe we're having this conversation. You have just told me you have a new hobby which involves murdering those you think aren't fit to live. And I am listening to this without protest. I am a man of God; I have to protest this – it's wrong!"

"Wrong? By whose opinion? You came here to try to enlist me in a game whereby four of us, heavily armed, would go out and kill animals and fiends just so that you could prove your manly prowess to your lover and there you sit rebuking me for ridding the world of those who prey on the helpless and weak. Tell me, priest – where is the difference? Where does virtue lie? You talk of right and wrong. Show me how you are more righteous than I as you stalk your prey and I stalk mine." Nooj pulled himself up in the chair and, for the first time, showed an interest in the discussion.

"What you're doing is illegal!" Baralai sputtered.

"So now law is the touchstone of morality. Are there no unjust laws you can think of or remember? Is the law always the defender of society or is it sometimes society's scourge?" A faint color rose on the prominent cheek-bones. "Give it up, Baralai. I am doing what I choose to do and entertaining myself at the same time as I am improving the world. It's a fair contest. You see I am still handicapped in my movements. The miscreant has a fair chance to escape me. By the way, before I start imposing my justice, I send a warning to the prey. I have never taken undue advantage – you know that. I have my honor to uphold."

"Honor! If I have heard you talk about that once ... Nooj, you can't be serious. Tell me you're not killing real people without cause."

"Of course, I am not killing without cause. Nor am I killing carelessly. I make sure my prey is guilty of the crime before I warn him and I give him a chance to plead his case before I set out. Praetor, I have no intention of telling you the details of my activities save only to inform you the punishment is tailored to the crime. It is always death but death can come quickly or slowly and with varying degrees of pain. I take care that the appropriate death is meted out to each." The tall man poured another glass of wine.

Baralai looked at the table as though contemplating pounding his head on its stained surface. "Is this your new way of hunting for a place to die?" He asked quietly. "Have you exhausted all the other outlets for your self-hatred? Must you finally come to this, this war on humanity itself in the hope that the authorities will rise up and hunt you down like the predator you call yourself and serve as your executioner in their turn?"

This time it was Nooj who did not answer. He contemplated his glass and seemed to sink deeply into himself. After a long time, he murmured almost too softly to be heard, "Leave it to a professional confessor to pluck the heart out of my mystery. My conscience drives me to improve the lot of the populace. My own wishes drive me toward death. My current activities are designed to satisfy both needs. You are right this time, Baralai. Knowing why should help you understand that I have chosen the only course possible for me."

"No, I neither understand completely nor accept even partially your contentions. And I'm afraid to ask what you consider the 'appropriate' punishment for various crimes. Nooj, you are not God." The priest looked with earnest concern at his old friend.

"And you are not the one to preach to me. We served evil together when we were younger, as you have noted, and since then we have gone our divergent paths. You have chosen your way and your life. I have done the same. I think you have chosen stupidly, devoting your existence to the support of a non-existent idea which demands total subjugation of the mind and body. And espousing a system of rules which make no logical sense. But that is your choice and I will not interfere. In return, you do not have permission to question my decisions. I will abide by them and take whatever grief they accrue. This is my right." He spread his hand on the table in a gesture of finality. "I will not defend my behavior to you any more than I demand you defend yours."

Baralai drooped, his shoulders sagging. "You always could twist words to get your way. None of us was ever a match for you. You know I have to inform the authorities? I'm an officer of the state and have no choice. I will give you ample time to escape from the area before I go do my duty."

"Yes, I knew you would think that way. The authorities, as you term them, do not alarm me. They are largely ineffective and, given the difficulty you – who know me by sight – had in locating me, I don't think I'll have much trouble eluding them, even with my handicaps. Do as you must, priest. I will not bear your conscience as well as my own." He made no move to leave.

"Well, what more do we have to say to each other?" the other demanded. "Are you going to sit there and wait for me to call the police?"

"You were the one who wanted this meeting. Are you going to give up your clever little scheme to go on safari to show Gippal how brave you are? I don't like to think of animals, even fiends, being slaughtered to improve your sex life." The tone was deliberately insulting.

"You don't have to worry about that. The last thing on my mind now is my private life. Damn it, Nooj! You didn't have to tell me what you were up to. You've put my public duty in conflict with my private needs. I should have expected this from you. You never made things easy for anybody. No wonder Paine didn't stay with you." Baralai realized he had spoken unwisely when he felt Nooj's grip on his collar.

"She left because I sent her away, priestling. What was between us is none of your business. Go back to your cozy life as the spiritual leader of fools. You aren't fit for anything else. Maybe Gippal will take you out for a carefully programmed hunting trip with all the comforts of your palace laid on and your trophies neatly lined up ready to be murdered. Don't interfere with things in the real, unplanned world again. You don't have the talent for it." With a twist and a push from his machina hand, Nooj tossed the other man back into his chair, almost up-ending it. "I shall take myself off now, not from concern about your duty being done but because I am increasingly bored by your blatherings about law and responsibility. When you are delivering the decisive word as it is written in your faith and in the corrupt legal system of this world, do not forget I am out there, living as a free man, unencumbered by your mouthings of nonsense. I will be killed; you are right about that. But when you learn of my death you will know I chose it, chased it, hunted it and embraced it. You will remember I did not compromise with mediocrity and never once yielded to boredom. Go to your paradise of the ordinary. Be as happy as you can manage knowing you are nothing but a commonplace slave."

Nooj pushed painfully up from his seated position, grasped his cane firmly and, with a final glare of contempt at the man in the elaborate robes, limped from the room, letting the door curtains sweep closed behind him, leaving the air suddenly emptied of oxygen.

The Praetor continued to slump over the table. This was not how it was supposed to have turned out. Without volition, his gaze turned inward and he saw the bleak emptiness of his career stretching around him, the feeble rationalizing, the threadbare excuses. There was no honor in what he was doing, only a self-aggrandizing routine. He saw himself for the first time in his life as the shabby temporizer he had always been and – again for the first time – he saw how a man might come to choose death over such a hollow life. No, this was not how it was supposed to have turned out. He should have been toasting an upcoming excursion with old friends. He and Nooj should have been laughing together, boasting about their exploits during the Crimson Squad days. This darkness of vision was not meant to have happened. He was supposed to have converted Nooj, not the other way around. Now what was he supposed to do? With a mewling cry, he dropped his head onto the wooden surface and began to weep with great gulping sobs, helplessly, hopelessly.

Apr 16, 200551812912