-Final Fantasy IX : Have and Have Not -- Chapter One : Teen Pickpocket-
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-- Whoo! Final Fantasy IX fan fiction!At long last!I'm a big fanof the series, and finally I have a fan fiction up here to post on the topic. Andit's going to have a half-decent storyline!(insert collective gasp here) Yes, yes, I know. Hard to believe, isn't it?
For those of you who have not played Final Fantasy IX, I would advise you not to read this for many reasons, the first being that you will not know the characters, nor the storyline, and so you will probably become completely and utterly confused.The Second is that I simply cannot guarentee that there will not be any spoilers.Since this is taking place at the same time as the Game, I have to take certain events into consideration as I write. You'll just have to search second-hand and retal stores until youfind Final FantasyIX if you really want to read this. Anyhow, enough of the boreing chat, and on with my (hopefully) not-so-boring fan fiction!
Okay, so I lied. That's not all. Just Read and Review, please! Ilive off of your feedback! (Doesn't that sound pathetic?) --
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And there he was again! Did this guy really think that he was going to get away with infringing on her territory? She was going to put a stop to this here, and now.
The teenager flitted through the crowd, silent as a shadow, slipping a strange wallet into her pocket as she went. She'd look through it later. You never knew what you'd find in these stranger's wallets. Credit Cards? Embaressing family protraits? Embaressing candid shots never meant to see the light of day? Gil? Hopefully the last one, although the other ones didn't hurt either. The whole reason she'd nabbed it in the first place was for a little bit of extra cash. Okay, so it was the only cash she had on her. And okay, it wasn't just on her. It was the only cash she had. Period. But hey,she was a pickpocket, so being scrupulously honest wasn't exactly one of her strong points.
A few well applied elbows later, she emerged on the other side of the throng crowding the entrance to the auction hall, and was advancing quickly on her target. He was walking hunched-over slightly, with his hands in his pockets, his hair hidden under a bandana. If he had hair. Who knew. Every time she saw him, he was wearing something different to cover it. Maybe he didn't like the way his hair was growing or something. Everyone had their problems.
A portly gentleman clad in a cheap looking imitation of an expensive suit walked between her and the young man, sending her spinning aside like she was nothing. He grunted something through the hankerchief - also cheap, by the look of it - that he was using to mop the sweat off his face, that sounded something like "Watch where you're going!" The sweat was glistening on the top of his balding head. What was left of his hair was a dull brown, which was also dripping with sweat. Yeah, the night was humid, sure, but it wasn't enough to be sweating like that! Like she'd thought earlier, everyone had their problems.
By the time he'd waddled past, the man she'd been following was gone. She cursed, surprising even herself with how colourful her language had become in her time on the street. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she stepped a little further away from the crowd and surveyed the area.
The street had been cleaned recently. Probably in preparation for the highly-advertised and acclaimed auction tonight. The stone walls had been scrubbed. Some of the brush marks were still visible and someone had left a bucket of soapy water out. All the homeless and the drunks had been cleared off too, probably by force. The only people around were either crowding into the auction hall, leaning against the wall reading newspapers or sitting on a bench - also freshly scrubbed -, enjoying the company. And all of them were wearing clean, freshly pressed clothing and self-important looks.
And there was a door right where the Man with the Bandana had just been. It looked as if it was trying to hide himself in with the rest of the brickwork. There was only one problem. It was made of wood. Interesting. Of course, the door probably didn't know that everyone could see it. She crossed to the door quickly, took hold of the handle, and was inside within a second, letting the door swing closed behind her.
A short distance away, the Man with the Bandana lowered his newspaper and grinned. She'd been tailing him for ages and now, she'd fallen right for his trap.
It wasn't long after that, that someone else used that very same door. Someone who looked very pleased with themself. Someone who was attracting looks all the way to the door from their choice of clothes and matching, platinum hair - or perhaps it was just hiswell sculped body.
Someone who was very bad news for anyone who might be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
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The girl crept along the plush carpeted hallway, every muscle in her body tense. The hall had a gentle curve which was pleasing to someone who had every right to be there, as it allowed them to sneak up on someone who had no right to be there. To someone had no right to be there, it was unsettling for the exact same reason. The young pickpocket picked up her pace and arrived at the balcony at a jog.
From the balcony, she could see the entire hall. There was some painting up at the front that the wealthy assembly was bidding on. One thousand gil, two thousand ...
She felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. She had never been fond of heights. She took another step back from the edge.
Three thousand ...
The balcony itself curved out of the wall. There was white railing around it. It looked flimsy.
Four thousand ...
The carpet was red. Deep, blood red.
There was a crystal chandelier hanging over the heads of the people down below. They were pretty far below it ... the chandelier and the people would suffer some pretty hefty damage if that were to fall. Or if she were to fall from that height. Ouch.
Six thousand ...
The people down below were all flushed with excitement. The excitement of a bargain to be had. Or the exitement of witnessing the apprehension of a criminal. She recognised it. She'd seen it plenty of times on the street. From the bystander's point of view, of course.
Eight thousand ...
There was a squat guy in a pointy hat waddling around. He stopped and talked for a few moments with some idiot wearing a suit of armour, no doubt one of the Knights of Pluto. So yes, she could safely assume that he was an idiot. They were almost as bad as the Alexandrian Guard. Honestly, who wore full torso armour, but left their legs open to attack?
Thirteen thousand ...
Then the both of them turned and looked directly at her.
Fifteen thousand ...
Time to make a hasty retreat. Now she was certain that she wasn't supposed to be standing there. Not with the way the Thing with the Pointy Hat was looking at her, and not with the astounded look on the Knight's face. After a moment, the Knight would get over his surprise - well, most probably - and call for backup - because, from the look of him, he wasn't the kind of guy who ran after people himselves. Especially not teenage girls who lived on the street and so were used to moving pretty darn quickly. She turned to leave and found herself staring a pair of steely grey-blue eyes.
Twenty-Five Thousand ...
She found herself completely paralyzed, completely exposed. Completely at his mercy. If he had any.
Thirty thousand ...
His hands grasped her upper arms, preventing her from running away. Not that she was capable of moving. But he didn't know that. She knew however. And she knew how much trouble she was in. And she also knew that the Man with the Bandana hadn't come this way.
There were some gasps in the crowd below. Someone must have bid an excessively high amount of cash on that ugly oil painting.
He nodded over her shoulder. Probably at the Knight and that Thing. It was a nod that said not to worry, that he'd take care of everything. The small part of her mind that wasn't frozen in fear made a mental note to figure out what that Pointy-Hatted Thing was. Later, that is. Right now really wasn't the time.
One Hundred, Fifteen Thousand ...
She could just imagine the Knight looking relieved that it wasn't his call anymore. Now he could focus his attention back to lugging that extensive gut of his around, and doing his best to look like he really wasn't a few days away from retirement.
The cold eyes met hers again. They looked amused. She wished that she could say that expression was mirrored in her own. In truth, she was terrified, rooted to the spot. And she was certain that he could tell. Maybe that was the reason he looked so amused.
One Hundred, Seventy Thousand ...
A hand was placed on the small of her back, a hand that had just been clasping her arm. A soft voice whispered, closer to her ear than she'd realised her was. "Don't cause a scene. Things will be easier that way."
She bent to his will. What else was there to do? As far as she knew, she hadn't broken any major laws. She wasn't wanted by the Crown. She hadn't been labelled as a traitor in any of the places she'd ever visited. The only reason she had been caught now, is because she was in the wrong place at exactly the wrong time. So why give them a reason to lock her up.
He pushed against her back when she didn't move, propelling her forwards a few steps, away from the edge of the balcony and back into the curving hallway. Within seconds, the two had dissapeared from the sight of the crowd assembled below. Both the Knight and the Black Mage moved away from each other and began their lazy patrol of the auction hall once more, expecting no more excitement for the night.
An excited gasp ran through the crowd.
Sold.