Surprisingly, this is the FIRST FF8 fic I've ever posted. What the heck! Anyway I've been replaying the game after MANY years and got a bit of inspiration, so here we are..
Spoilers lay within! Usual disclaimer: Square Enix owns all - this is written for fun and not profit.
Drabble from Irvine's POV detailing the events in Deling City and the botched assassination attempt on Edea.
Also: the title, while seemingly unoriginal, was inspired by the song "Gunman" by Them Crooked Vultures, which set the mood pretty well for me to write this fic.
Those who trained for SeeD were prepared for worst-cases scenarios; always on guard, teetering on the edge of an adrenaline rush, particularly when a crisis kicked into high gear. It was then that all the training would come to fruition – or not.
Not so with the sharpshooter. An adrenaline rush was the last thing a sniper needed; getting oneself too keyed up would result in shaky nerves, cockiness, a rush in judgment. Calm, cool, and collected; those were the qualities Irvine needed, and learned to hone quite well over the years as he perfected his talent. The loner who hated being alone; he had an uncommon ability to shut out everything that was going on around him, able to focus utterly and wholly upon the task at hand. Pouring his entire being into that pull of the trigger; the bullet had to hit its mark, had to, on the first and last try.
There were no second chances. And he never did miss his mark; it was always some nameless, faceless target to him. Aim - focus - shoot to kill. He would brag that he could do it with his eyes closed, and though Irvine would never try anything so foolish, would never test this ridiculous theory in reality, he was that confident in his skill that he believed it to be true.
Easy. Piece of cake. Easy, until that day in Deling City, when the target was not just some face in the crowd, not just some nameless target, but someone he knew. Someone he remembered. How had he not realized up until this moment, that she was their target? And none of the others seemed to realize this either.
He remembered, but they did not. But the vision through his scope did not lie, it was her, it was Matron. Edea…had he ever known her real name? That bit was fuzzy, a thing he couldn't exactly remember, but he knew this; she'd been the closest thing he'd ever had to a mother.
I can't. I can't do it… Let Squall think I'm a joke, a failure – let them all think that, I don't care. Maybe I am a failure, but I will not – I cannot…shoot her.
He lowered the rifle, pulled the brim of his hat down as he closed his eyes.
Forgive me. I have to make this look good - He took some small comfort in Squall's words, that they'd complete their mission anyway whether or not his bullet met its mark.
Irvine raised the shotgun to shoulder level again, narrowed his eyes as he squinted through the scope, his target dead center in the crosshairs –
He shifted the barrel slightly to his right, knowing he'd miss - and fired anyway, not at all surprised when she blocked the shot. The report echoed longer than normal due to the protective magic the sorceress had cast; Irvine heard it, felt it,
After all, he'd made certain she knew it was coming.
"Matron." Irvine's voice, a whisper caught on the wind, a murmur nobody heard save for himself. "Edea. I remember you now."
Notes: I've long held the belief that the reason Irvine lost his cool and couldn't go through with the hit, is that he realized exactly who Edea was once he got her in his sights.