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Flourescent lights blurred together between the jagged skyscrapers of Nebria. The neons of every hue did their best to fend off the black of night, and cast a metallic shine upon the angular buildings. Below their dizzying heights, enclosed bridges and dull-metal roadways arched and connected one skyscraper to another.
The city itself existed somewhere within these roads and bridges, and within the interconnected skyscrapers. The people of Nebria were in constant transit between the towering landmarks. Every inch of crafted metal served a purpose, and the people of the massive city-state lived at peace.
But peace has always been a luxury for Nebrians.
Above Gregon Center, the glass tube-bridge that ran through the giant MetroMercial shopping skyscrapers, a night-shattering explosion caused instant shock. Shoppers dropped their bags of expensive just-bought items, and ran to the glass walls to the source of the light.
A squarish TACH-88 cargo ship had caught fire in midair. Its rear end was overtaken by growing flame, and the craft was losing altitude fast. A trail of smoke and metal shards floated in the air behind, as it dove in a steep descent to the ground a thousand feet below.
Some Nebrians screamed in panic. Others reached for communicators in their pockets, and dialed for emergency. Children tugged at their parents' coats and pointed in confusion. One or two passers by uttered a solemn prayer, shook their heads, and continued on down the bridge.
The TACH-88 made a hard turn. It swooped upward, and began a shaky path for the Gregon Center bridge.
Screams filled the glass and shook a terrible vibration throughout. Panic-stricken citizens fell over each other in a mad dash, running in either direction toward the bridge's entrances. Children lost grip of their parents' hands, and fell into the sea of terror. Bodies slammed against the glass walls, pressed and suffocating in the newly claustrophobic bridge.
A few Nebrians were too stricken to move; they were pushed to and fro by the screaming masses, but their distant eyes were locked upon the closing aircraft.
Fire had spread completely over the TACH-88; it resembled only a molten fireball, propelled at breakneck speed by the craft's burning fuel reserves. It radiated heat and smoke as it passed the surrounding buildings, and the metal surfaces fogged bright white.
The same fog began to cloud the glass bridge. Crying citizens felt the air around them slowly heating. They gradually lost sight of the incoming craft.
But an all-too-familiar sound made them turn their heads, and heave a gasp of hope.
Another craft was barreling their way, from the opposite direction. It was perhaps twenty feet long, and very thin, wide enough for one man to sit inside. Its black exterior shined from blinking lights. Its design was sleek and rounded, with an organic nose sloping into a blacked-out cockpit. Short wings Neon blue engines left a glowing trail as the craft grew closer, wailing a high-pitched scream.
The Nebrians felt the glass shake as the craft passed over the bridge. The heat-fog instantly dissipated, and the glass was clearer than ever. The glowing flames were merely yards away from impact.
The thin black aircraft dove sharply into the fireball. Black metal crushed and split away as the two bodies met. Debris pounded the bridge walls, sometimes cracking, sometimes breaking through. But the TACH-88 did not strike. The mangled wreckage passed nearly under the bridge.
All terrified eyes were still upon the falling blaze, as it plummeted along the mountainous skyscraper toward the roadways below. A feint flash of light rose from the surface of the black aircraft, and a shining plate of metal detached. A small body lifted away. It hung in freefall, quickly enveloped in thick smoke.
A white-hot explosion rang with a thunderous pound. The wrecked aircraft fragmented, and flaming dust rained harmlessly on the speeding cars below.
Composure was returning to the people on the bridge. They were spreading apart, some searching through the shattered bridge to find their separated parties, and others sitting on the glass floor to catch their breath. Silence replaced the calamity that had unfolded only seconds ago.
The sound of breaking glass almost brought it back. Heads began spinning, looking for the source of the horrid sound. Some began to scream that the bridge was collapsing, but they were quieted right away. A crowd began to gravitate to a spot on the transparent floor, where a few were pointing and shouting excitedly.
A steel grappling hook had punched into the thick glass, and a taut cable was hanging from it. At the end of the cable, a man was hanging by one arm. A shining suit of black and silver armor covered his body, and a helmet masked his face. He was not gripping the line with his hand; it seemed to extend from within his forearm.
The crowd began to clammer, as the man rose toward the bridge's floor, the cable disappearing into his armor as he grew closer. Shouts and cries of wonder filled the air.
"He's alive!"
"Who's down there? Is it the TACH pilot?"
"No, you idiot, it's the soldier! Look at his armor!"
"Hyne, it's the Ghost! Look everyone, it's really the Ghost!"
"Get out of the way, he's almost to the top!"
The soldier reached the end of his cable, and hung under the bridge floor. His free arm swung back, and a long blade swished out from his forearm. It pounded the thick glass, and cut directly through. Citizens backed away quickly, as the blade came through a second time, and a third.
In no time at all, the soldier had cut a sizeable square into the bridge, and he carefully swung himself in with the help of those standing by. The blade and grappling hook returned to their places, and his armor closed.
"Holy Hyne...it really is the Ghost!!"
"Look! Look at the slash!"
They crowded around him as he stood, and pointed in awe at his smoke-dulled armor. Across his chest plate, a deep slash was cut through. Inside it, a flourescent glow came forth.
They stood and stared at him, long after he had called for assistance, and the rescue teams had flooded the bridge. When emergency crewmen offered to treat their wounds, they did not respond, lost in wonder of the faceless soldier. They had read of his doings since they were children, and so had their parents, and their grandparents. All their lives, they had heard of him, always wondering what to make of the strange and fantastic stories.
But before them stood a man of supernatural blessing. He was known only as the Ghost; he had lived for generations, and fought in every one of Terra Network's great wars. He was the immortal soldier.
And though the pains of battle would come, the legends foretold, and war would change the ways of the world, the Ghost would always remain.
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TRABIA SCHEMA
Written by Industrialis
Based on characters and situations from Final Fantasy VIII
All references to FFVIII
Ó SquareSoftAll original characters and concepts
Ó the author~