"Prequel to Darkness..." I got this idea from the KH walkthrough guide. If you read Squ...err, Leon's bio, you find that they stick to the fact that he was a highly trained member from an academy in Balamb. I found this a little odd and it made me wonder...how did he end up where he did, and how did the others find their way together? This story is my answer to that, and about what happened before the Heartless showed up. Also, please note that Balamb is smaller than it was in FFVIII, and also that Selphie (because of Destiny Island) and all the others (for my personal reasons) are NOT part of Squall's "elite team." This is a PREQUEL to "Escape from Hollow Bastion." R&R please!
**Disclaimer: I don't own any trademarked things-characters, places, etc.--but the storyline and any other original characters are mine. **
**EDITED 06/09: I hated the age thing so I'm fixing it!**
Prequel to Darkness
Flames tore the darkness of the sky, disjoining the stillness and rending the dark patterns of the cloudy nightscape with a thousand incendiary hands. Beyond the fiery light and the searing heat, a tumultuous symphony of sounds assaulted any ears within range: frantic shouting; the scream of metal grating metal; the cries of warring men. The reek of burning flesh, the black consumption of life into fire, wafted on a deadened breeze through courtyards that ran with blood. Collectively the picture painted was a grim one, one of a sleeping academy taken by surprise in the dead of night.
A dark figure leaned against a tree, well away from the thick of the action. He watched Balamb Garden burning with stoicism befitting his status, waiting intently for his target's impending entrance. Let the others handle the small fry--he was going after the big fish, the Commander, and no one but. Habitually, he looked again at the profile card in his hand.
Target Name: Squall Leonheart
Primary weapon: standard-issue gunblade
Magical capability range: All base-level offensive spells and Cure--most proficient with Fire. Spell keyword is a growl.
Overall combat proficiency rating: S
The information was coupled, as usual, with a small picture of the face of his target. This one was male, obviously young, but possessing a harsh, calculating look that the mercenary didn't dismiss. The youth's mouth was a thin line in the picture, his jaw hard for no older than he was. Blue-gray eyes, eyes that matched a troubled sky just before a hellacious storm, were set off by brownish hair. There was definitely something tell-tale in those eyes, something familiar, and again something the man examining them did not write off. Knowing and correctly estimating one's opposition made elimination that much easier.
Still, part of him could not help being irked at the fact that they'd sent him after a kid. Sure, their entire force of mercenaries had been deployed to wipe out Balamb, their only tangible rivals and he, as the best of his team, was expected to find and engage the SeeD Commander. It seemed horribly frivolous to him that said Commander was in his teens—he had taken out older, wiser, and stronger men than Leonhart looked to be—but he was not one to question orders. A contract was a contract, and his told him to find and kill Squall Leonheart.
Coincidentally Squall had already been found, though not by the pensive mercenary waiting him out. The Commander had awoken at the first sign of smoke, when the faintest whiffs of its telling odor reached him in his dorm room. Already not one prone to sleeping well, he had woken from his fitful dreams instantly, nerves humming and entirely alert. It took him no time at all to dress in his typical black pants, white shirt and short-cut jacket, and even less time to fasten his gunblade sheath onto his waist. Following a hunch prompted by the sudden commencement of not-so-distant sounds of battle, he grabbed a shoulder pack and stuffed a few belongings into it. All told, it took him just over a minute. That was a plus, for he had the distinct feeling he might not be coming back here anytime soon. Shouldering the pack on his left and his drawn gunblade on his right, he opened his door, unsure of what he would find.
Fire had already begun to burn its way down his corridor, licking the ceiling and walls hungrily in his direction. The wall of flame had progressed just far enough to prevent him from safely exiting at that end of the hall. Scowling, not at all fazed, Squall did the easiest thing he could think of. Turning, he raised a booted foot and kicked out the nearest window, shattering the glass and stepping through, unscathed. The scene in what used to be the Garden's courtyard, however, would not be so easily remedied.