Disclaimer: I own myself, and that's about it. I don't even own the computer I'm working at. So I definitely don't own Final Fantasy VIII. Or Bob Dylan's "Blowin' in the Wind," for that matter.
A/N: My first attempt at a fanfic! So, this is an AU story that follows what the plot of FF8 might have been had sorceresses not existed. This actually changes the story considerably; for example, since SeeD was formed to fight sorceresses, SeeD doesn't exist either. So, Squall, Zell, Quistis, Selphie, and Irvine don't work for SeeD; instead, they are all part of one of two revolutionary movements against the Galbadian government. Since this is an AU, some characters, especially the minor ones, might be kinda OOC. Please review.
Content Warning: Uh...violence? Maybe a little language? There's nothing too bad in this...it's just a short introductory chapter.
Prologue
"How many times must a man look up Before he can see the sky?
How many ears must one man have Before he can hear people cry?
How many deaths will it take till he knows That too many people have died?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind, The answer is blowin' in the wind."
--Bob Dylan, "Blowin' in the Wind"
Wedge sprang to his feet, shivering with raw fear, as he heard gunshots ring out much too close to the little room where his commanding officer had stationed him to guard the Galbadian missile base's main network server. The young draftee grabbed his rifle from the desk and positioned himself so that he had a clear view of the door. He heard distant footsteps in the corridor leading to the subterranean steel cave that he occupied. The rebels were drawing closer.
The soldier blinked as beads of sweat trickled down his forehead to his eyes and quickly glanced to a picture of a baby girl and her mother that he had contrived to attach to the back of his protective battle glove.
Oh, Hyne, Wedge prayed. Please let me survive this. I just want to see Emily and Lily again…
The footsteps sounded much nearer now. Wedge heard a man scream out in pain as a sound ominously like that of a chainsaw rent the air for a split second. Oh Hyne oh Hyne oh Hyne… he thought.
The footsteps had stopped. Wedge cautiously edged toward the metal door, squinting as his vision was momentarily obscured by the bright glare the fluorescent lighting cast upon the smooth surface.
Suddenly, the door flew open and a young man charged across into the room, holding a long blade attached to the handle and trigger mechanism of a gun in one hand. Wedge sent a spray of bullets in the rebel's direction, but panic ruined his aim, and the bullets harmlessly bounced off the thick steel ceiling.
The rebel crossed the room in two quick strides and plunged the gunblade into Wedge's chest.
Wedge gasped as he felt the cold metal slide between his ribs. The world seemed to slow down as he studied his killer. He was dressed in black jeans, a white shirt, and a black leather jacket with an odd fur lining across the top. He wore a chain around his neck, suspending a ring emblazoned with some sort of lion-like creature. The rebel's most striking feature, however, was his face; along the bridge of his nose, underneath his disheveled brown hair and between his cold, emotionless blue eyes, ran a long, thin scar.
The pain was excruciating at first, but it began to fade away as Wedge's vision darkened. Tears swam to his eyes. Emily…, he thought sadly, I'm sorry…I won't get to see our daughter's second birthday…
Then the rebel pulled the gunblade's trigger and the same sound Wedge had heard--the brief, loud sound like that of a chainsaw--tore through his body as he left the world.
Squall watched calmly as his gunblade split the Galbadian soldier's body cleanly in half, easily pulling the weapon from what was left of the man's spinal cord. He walked past the bloody corpse and, setting his gunblade aside, stepped up to the base's mainframe, where he quickly followed the instructions he had memorized a week before. When he finished, he entered a final command, cutting the base's power.
As the lights suddenly went dark, Squall reached down to his belt and drew forth his radio. Holding it to his lips, he said, "You're all clear, Commander, sir."
A crisp, military voice issued from the radio. "Good work, Lieutenant Leonhart. Withdraw."
"Affirmative," Squall replied. "Thank you, sir." He clipped the radio back on his belt and turned to leave just in time to see another Galbadian soldier rush in, panting. He raised his rifle threateningly, but had a fearful look in his eyes.
"Drop to the floor!" the soldier screamed. Squall's eyes flicked to his left, where he had set his blood-soaked gunblade before using the mainframe to shut down the base research area's security systems. He would never reach it in time. He nodded and slowly lowered himself to his knees, interlocking his hands behind his head.
"Face down!" the soldier yelled, stepping forward. His eyes still showed his terror as he eyed the mangled body of his fallen comrade. As he took another step, a shot rang out. Squall raised his head back up and saw the soldier's eyes widen as his hand moved to touch his neck. The soldier pulled the hand away and gasped, seeing his hand covered in his own blood. He toppled over and lay still.
Behind him stood a tall, young man holding a double-barreled shotgun. He wore a long leather coat and black cowboy hat, and had his long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. At the moment, his mouth was open, and he was staring shakily at the man he had just shot.
Squall rolled his eyes as he rose from his position on the floor. "Pull yourself together, Kinneas," he ordered curtly.
"Umm…yes, sir, Lieutenant," Kinneas responded, lowering his weapon. He still sounded shaky, but his cocky grin was beginning to replace the stunned expression of a few seconds before on his face.
Squall grabbed his gunblade, crossed the small room, and leaned down to wipe the blood off on the dead soldier's uniform. "Where's Dincht?" he asked Kinneas in the process.
"Zell--I mean Corporal Dincht--is guarding our exit route," Kinneas answered.
"Good," Squall said, nodding and standing up. "We're done here. Time to withdraw."
Squall strode out into the connecting corridor without giving the two dead bodies a second glance. Kinneas started to do the same, but couldn't stop himself from looking back. A shiver ran down his spine.
Goddamn, he thought to himself as he eyed the one Squall had cut in half with his gunblade. He felt more than a little queasy.
Kinneas quickly turned away and hurried out of the room, leaving the dead soldiers where they lay.