Title: "The Mission"
Author: Treesh Aradia
Disclaimer: wish
they did belong to me…. but alas…they belong to square…
Summary: This
story involves everyone. This is the revised version. Read and
Review…pls!
Dedicated to: The greatest Beta Reader Any writer can
ever have…GYRE!!!! J
and my pal BC
The Mission
The place was packed
full to its capacity with tons of people letting loose- girls who wanna have
fun, office people worn-out from getting kicked around by their superiors and
lumberjacks exhausted from their monotonous lives. They had filled the entire
space of the disco-bar. The music blared on as the sea of bodies gyrated
quickly to the strong infectious beat of some new age disco song, lapping
against the edges of their limited dancing space
And this was just
seeing it from the outside entrance of the club. Getting in was probably easy
but getting out would be the difficult part, like a salmon swimming against the
current. As it was people were crammed together with their leather-clad get-up and
shimmering sequined boob tubes practically pressing onto some other person. And
if that was not enough, the place had started overflowing with people at the
bars who thought it amusing to spray beer at the dancers. No one even
responded, everyone was too occupied in doing their own thing and some went as
far as to gulp down the beer being aimed at them. The place was wild and it had
a sort of feral tinge to it.
"Holy damn almighty."
Selphie Tilmitt said, which was probably the closest proximity to her using any
sort of profanities. Suddenly, taking up the mission Drake had given her seemed
like a very bad move. I am so going to regret this.
Irvine Kinneas who was
beside her was busy ogling in awe at a group of girls near the line. Well, it
was much better than having him gape at her and her 'mission attire'. Which was
more cleavage than cloth, to her that was. But looking at the clubbers at
Glitter Tech, it certainly made her feel as if she were dressed up like a nun.
"Well, You ready to
boogie?" Irvine smirked at her. He had tried to warn her about the mission
requirements but she had been too busy being angry with him to actually pick up
on that. At least he looks like he's having fun. Selphie sulked, but
managed to answer with an innocent smile and a 'nice' nudge to Irvine's ribs,
leaving him to fall back a few people behind her. The line at the entrance was
starting to move and much to her chagrin her turn was coming up. Irvine was a
distance behind her, trying to act inconspicuous as he tried to pick up chicks.
Why did Drake pick Irvine to be back up? Rolling her eyes Selphie
miserably followed the line closer and closer to the front. We are on a
mission not attending some pseudo orgy… She silently thought.
The bulky man at the
front, the bouncer, was selecting people 'cool' enough to enter. Smoothing her
sleek, straight highlighted tan-brown hair she waited for him to see her. Oh
god, I haven't been this anxious since the final fight with Ultimecia.
Checking her black leather boots for potential dirt- it was a nervous habit she
picked up earlier on, she casually eyed Irvine. He was talking to a blond.
Flirting as usual.
"Hey Miss." The
bouncer hollered over the ever-rising din. Looking back at the man she realized
he had given her the A-ok to go in. Smiling her thanks she entered the packed
club and was immediately surrounded by moving bodies plastered with the smell
of sweat and beer. Wow, that sure was easy. Looking back she found
Irvine and the blond walking in. The girl was laughing at something he said. He
was looking around the club and suddenly she found herself staring into his
misty blue eyes. Quickly she turned back and began to scan the crowded
dome-like room. Don't want to cramp his style. She thought
sarcastically. Ok…focus on the mission. Selphie warned herself and began
registering what she was supposed to do.
No1.
Keep a look out for any suspicious characters.
Yep, easy, no one in
this club seems to be suspicious. They are all perfectly normal people dressed
for a day at church. Someone has to do something about
that darned mission report. Selphie found herself lost in the coiling mass
of never-ending dancers. The only suspicious one here seems to be me.
She was standing stiffly at the middle of the dance floor, looking at all the
dancers strutting their stuff and doing all those NC-17 dance moves. How am
I supposed to do my job in a sty like this??? The only way I could see
anything is if I were on the platform. That would mean I'd have to be working
as a Dancer here. Out of the question.
Irritated,
Selphie began to weave through the crowd. Glancing occasionally at Irvine. Darn
it, he seems to be having fun.
***
"So like I was saying,
how can I possibly know that his name was Jared? I mean not everyone looks at
people's name tags right?" Chrissie said in her very lame attempt at getting
Irvine to listen to her. God, can't she just shut up? Irvine thought
exasperatedly as the blond jabbered on in that gratingly high-pitched tone. She
had taken to touching his arm in a not so subtle way in the name of flirting.
Why did I even bother
talking to her? I could have looked casual without this Barbie.
He was scanning the
room searching for something when he stopped. Staring at the girl a few heads
in front of him, the girl with her flowing hair of brown highlights. Her face
betrayed the clubber image she seemed to want to portray and yet nothing
stopped her from looking enticingly stunning… Selphie could have been an angel if
she had not also looked like such a foxy devil. Her eyes were cat-like green, striking and
yet innocent. The neon blue strobe lights accentuated her glimmering eye shadow
and made her straight hair glimmer. His fascination lingered on her high
cheekbones and aristocratic nose before resting on her sultry lips with their
lightly tinged silver lip-gloss. Selphie sure grew up to be a siren. The techno
music and gyrating dancers ceased to exist as he stared at her. Everything
seemed to disappear.
The first time he saw
her in that outfit, he nearly had a cardiac arrest. Irvine knew Selphie was
beautiful, but seeing her with her metallic blue handkerchief top and sleek
black leather pants, it blew him away, he couldn't stop staring at her the
whole night. He tried staring at the other girls, but no one could compare. It
was ironic how she was dressed like the devil herself and yet managed to
maintain her angelic innocence.
He
was still staring at her when his conscience began ringing in his head. He
pictured the danger alarms buzzing around. Irvine, knock it out. She said
she wanted to be friends nothing more. Regaining his composure, he tuned
back to Chrissie, occasionally staring at the girl with the angelic face… "And
I was like so confused, he said his name was Jared…."
***
The streetlamps were
dimly lit as the girl walked down the secluded path, the loud music fading as
she went further away from the club. The faint rustle of the trees caused her
to pause. She heard a sound. Just the wind… She reasoned turning around
to scan the area before walking again. In between dancing and humming a tune
from Aretha Franklins, she did not notice the shadow sweep behind her before
blending in with the darkness again.
"I
will survive…" This time, she heard that clicking sound again. She stopped her
public parading, and began to take out the pepper spray from her glitter bag.
Swiftly she turned around to face… whatever it was.
Too
late.
The
cleaver was brought down onto her chest the minute she turned. Red exploded in
front of her eyes as she felt her lungs burn causing her breath to bubble in
her throat. The excruciating pain was too much to bear. The cleaver was brought
up then down again as it re-entered her body, hacking her flesh, mutating it
into a deformed pile of lump where it was once beautiful white porcelain skin. Her
chest felt like hot black coal had been ignited in her collapsed lungs, using
it as a cauldron for its fiery hell. Instantaneously, her vision began to get
blurred. The only thing she saw was the glimmer from the fatal weapon… and the
black trench coat sweeping over her.
***
"Ooops, sorry."
Selphie mumbled agitatedly as she bumped into her five hundred and fortieth
person. All the while desperately trying to search for unusual characters.
"No
biggie." The man she bumped into said, flashing her a grin, a very nice fine
grin. "Wanna get a beer?" The man asked her. Nodding her head, they began to
move towards the bar.
***
Selphie, where are you.
Irvine Kinneas thought, drowning out "Chrissie" as she went on talking about
how tired she was and how she very much wanted to go back to her room but
needed help up.
There she is.
Standing in the middle of the dance floor looking absolutely lost. He felt a
pang as she smiled at something the person she bumped into had said to her. She
nodded at him and they began to head for the bar.
Gosh, what is Selphie
doing? She should be concentrating on the mission, not flirting.
Irvine flared up. The man had taken to touching her… That's it. I have to
get her. Raising his hand to stop Chrissie from talking he walked towards
his target leaving the blond to sputter angrily.
The
man is trouble, for all I know he could have a weapon. He might hurt Selphie…In
fact I'm sure he's going to hurt Selphie. Irvine was a
few meters away from them but he could only briefly make out what they were
saying.
***
"So how about you…"
The man had taken Selphie's hand when Irvine shoved him.
"Hey man, what the
hell do you think you are doing???" The man got up from his fallen position and
stared into Irvine's incensed eyes.
"Is he your boyfriend
or something?" The man looked back at Selphie. Selphie remained expressionless
as she began considering the question.
"I have never seen him
before."
"Well good. Cause I am
so gonna beat the crap out of you!" The man had closed the gap between himself
and Irvine, raising his fist. Irvine stood his ground wearing a poker face all
the while...reactions he learnt from Garden, being the combat artist he was.
"Wait!!!" Selphie
interjected. Irvine was a gun specialist but ever since the second Sorceress
War he was also a knife and combat veteran. Not a good combo for anyone who
pissed him off.
"I saw him. I really
don't think he meant to push you." Selphie looked back at Irvine, who just
shrugged. "Yeah, sorry."
Mike did not seem to
believe it, and faked a back down before he turned around again to throw a
punch at Irvine.
Shifting to his side,
Irvine easily managed to avoid the shot. The man tried again and missed. In one
fleetingly agile motion, Irvine's fist was in the man's gut as he used his
other fist to pummel the man's ribs. Falling back, the man coughed and backed
up against the other dancers.
"Are you crazy?" It
was at this point that Selphie's legs managed to respond, taking her across the
room to check the fallen man for any sign of injuries. Then she stood in
between both of the men.
"What are you doing?"
She shrieked at Irvine as one of the bouncers began to take Irvine away. She
looked angrily at him one last time before turning away to see if Mike needed
help.
"Are you alright?" She
asked him as he continued coughing.
"Yeah, god this is
embarrassing. You sure you don't know him? Cause he seemed pretty pissed" He
asked her in between his coughing fit. Selphie nodded her head and helped him
up. They stood awkwardly before Mike made the decision to leave while he still
had at least a morsel of his manly pride left.
"So give me a call if
you still want to take me up on that offer." He said, giving her a platinum
card. Nodding her head she watched him leave the place.
Everyone had gone back to dancing after
realizing with disappointment that the fight was over. Seeing that she would
not get any work done on this failed pathetic attempt on a mission, Selphie
left the club.
***
"What the hell was
that about?" Irvine asked as he met her outside the club, walking closer to
Selphie. The streets were pretty quiet and most of the dancers were still
boogieing the house down.
"I could ask you the
same thing! What were you trying to do? Blow our cover? You nearly killed the
man!" Selphie retorted. How dare he ask me that, he was the one who had
gotten into a bar brawl!
"What did he talk to
you about?" Irvine asked, looking at her.
"Whether I was
interested in going to bed with him." Selphie said, deadpan, silently fuming.
Irvine seemed to believe her. His face was seven shades of red…and it was not
from embarrassment.
"What? He asked you
'that'? I swear I will kick his ass so high, he'd fly!" Irvine roared, trying
to go back to the club to find 'Mike'. Selphie choked back a giggle.
Irvine was such a cutie. He'd do that for me? For just a friend… Guess I
can't stay mad at him forever.
"No dumbo…he asked if
I ever considered modeling." Irvine stared at her.
"That's it? Modeling?"
Selphie nodded, noticing Irvine relax a bit.
"Oh."
Irvine paused and Selphie did not bother filling in the silence, choosing
instead, to savor his awkwardness. God. The mission…I hope Drake's in a good
mood tonight. A very good mood.
***
"Drake." Irvine
replied curtly to the solemn man.
"Headmaster Drake."
Came Selphie's polite reply.
Howard Drake was a
very condescending man with a fetish for power. He loved it; he also loved his
power games. Unfortunately, for him, he was just a substitute for Headmaster
Cid as Cid was taking a vacation in the Trabian region.
"Miss Tilmitt.
Kinneas." Drake called as he sat back in his, or Cid's, chair. He waited for
the two SeeDs to give him the 411 on the current situation. Both looked
stumped.
"Well? What have you
got?" He looked at them with his intense gray eyes, which made Selphie shudder
inwardly. He waited before inwardly smirking. Trust them to screw up.
"We were unable to get
any information. Yet." Irvine spoke up, impertinently. Damn that boy. If I
weren't just a substitute, I would kick his ass back to Galbadia. Ignoring
Irvine's manner he looked towards Selphie. Expecting a somewhat more valuable
report from her at least. No chance.
"Well, sir, the place
was very crowded. We were unable to perform our duties…" Drake's eyebrows went
up, arched like a bridge
"Miss Tilmitt must I
remind you that this is a very important mission. Innocent young women are
being slaughtered on the streets. And all you can say is…the place was very
crowded?"
"Sir, if you were
there you would not have been able to…" Drake interrupted again, stopping
Selphie's sentence short.
"Yes, I see your
point. Since that is the case, then you will need to frequent there more often,
very VERY often. My suggestion would be that you, Miss Tilmitt, would see that
you get yourself a job there."
Selphie did not like
where that was going. "But the only job available there would be…" Selphie let
the sentence die without a proper end before continuing. "Sir you don't expect
me to be a, a dancer! That is not in my
SeeD credentials!" She looked toward Irvine, but all he did was shrug.
"Well,
if other young girls can, I don't see why a "SeeD" member can't. After all,
aren't SeeDs supposed to be talented in everything…? Dismissed." His tone
silenced them and Drake leaned back in his chair and began to watch them file
out of the office, not giving them a chance to defend their sad selves. A small
smile appeared on his thin lips as he savored the power he got from dissing
them.
***
"Good morning my
fellow comrades." Zell cheerfully greeted his two other friends as they took
their seats at their usual table. He noted Irvine and Selphie's tired faces and
took Selphie's rare frown into account. This could only mean one thing. Drake
the drag had struck again.
"Uh oh, what did he do
now?" Zell questioned. Irvine gave him a 'Don't Ask' look.
Selphie looked down at
her cold soggy cereal before turning back towards them. Mornings were supposed
to be fun and sunny but today was an exception. Everything felt sour and gloomy
to her.
"What did he do? What
did he do???? I'll tell you what he did! That jerk wants me to cage dance in a
freaky bar is what he did!!! In front of every one of those slobbering
maniacs." Selphie was out of her chair, speaking in a relatively loud voice,
attracting unwanted attention.
"Uh, Sef, maybe you should sit down…" Irvine was
looking at something behind her, or more like a 'someone'.
"He's behind me isn't he?" Selphie asked meekly,
face a healthy scarlet red.
"Hmm, Miss Tilmitt,
ever considered taking anger management classes? You have a lot of anger for a
girl your age." The calm voice said behind her.
The cafeteria was
silent, except for the faint whir of the hotdog machine spinning. Everyone
else, who had lacked a simple term called life in their little world, was looking
at the obvious commotion in wonderment. Slowly, Selphie turned to face
Headmaster Drake, her face a nice scarlet hue. Too late for pleasantries.
Without waiting for
any kind of response from the young SeeD cadet, Drake continued. "Well Miss
Tilmitt," His thick accent was getting heavier- not a good sign since he only
did that when he was getting ready for his most acidic remarks- "I just wanted
to remind you to get yourself a nice little sequined outfit… you don't want to
have another failed mission to add to your ever accumulating list do we?" With
that he sauntered off.
Selphie remained where she was; not knowing
whether to laugh or cry. To laugh in gratitude because Drake did not do or say
anything too nasty or to cry since he didn't need to do anything nasty. Letting
her follow through with the mission was already punishment enough…
"Yeah...whatever…"
The soft peculiar
humming from the room lingered on as the man slipped on his elastic gloves.
Using the scalpel from the metallic stand by his right, he moved toward the
motionless body. The dismembered face of Carly Johnson stared back at him with
its motionless eyes; eyes that had dilated and rolled behind their lids as he
brought down the cleaver into her flesh. He smiled fondly as he remembered the
power and thrill he got from her. Her screams had roused him into an
exhilarating high, which made him feel heady with morbid pleasure. All his
girls had. Still smiling, he stood beside the cadaver of mutilated flesh and
began scraping away the coating of skin that covered the body, lightly shaving
off the epidermis carefully, not wanting any wrong movements that would cause
the veins to be spewed with blood.
In
the background of the greenish illuminated room, the faint outline of the man's
back overshadowed his hands, covering them; while they performed their sordid
surgery, with the faint tune of Bach overpowering the sick sound of a metallic
blade slicing open cold lifeless flesh…
***