Author's Note: Hello! VanillaBeanHearts front and center. Thank you and welcome to the story Vitalus, my first long term story I remotely am trying to stick with. First, I will disclaim Final Fantasy Versus 13 (or XV, whatever it is now xD) to be my own concept as it clearly is not. I will also take a moment to disclaim Bioshock and anything that goes along with that. Out of nowhere disclaimer?
Why yes…yes it is. XD
But I must mention it and here's why!
I decided to attempt to write a story borrowing certain concepts from Bioshock (a deteriorated society largely) with the setting of Final Fantasy. I didn't want to do a blatant crossover with the two stories as I couldn't quite think of the best way to accurately combine it without fudging the details. Therefore, I'm presenting a completely...different perspective if you will, of how it could be done. It's written in such a way that it is supposed to be able to be seen as a game plot. And since it's a very loose "crossover" focusing on Final Fantasy and using the mere "template" of Bioshock, I'll place it with Versus since this is where it is focused.
I'll add one last thing that I have a love-hate relationship with starting stories off as many others do I'm sure. Sorry if this isn't the best of chapters. I tried my best to make it flow reasonably but I'll be straightforward in mentioning its sole purpose is to set up the story rather than characterize anyone; pretty much whatever it takes to get it over that mundane introduction threshold.
Long Author's Note, but onward now to the story!
Reviews are very welcome so long as it's constructive. Please be gentle. It's the first (possibly only) one. ^_^
Vitalus
Prologue: Out of a Bowl, Into a Pan
"Don't let him get away!" barked an armored soldier in a rather vast forest to his two partners slightly ahead of him. Metallic footsteps sprinted hurriedly through moss and dirt in hopes of either detaining or executing the person the trio was pursuing. A few shots rang out around them in response to this order, but the soldiers remained undeterred since the bullets missed their targets. Instead, they became a bit more irritated that this criminal catch was so elusive despite the damage the young man before them had taken.
Tall trees stretched high towards the sky creating canopies that hid much of the waning sunlight. This usually produced a very stunning sight on a blue, sunlit day, but as darkness crept in at the end of the day or whenever the clouds filtered the sun, it easily became dark and gloomy. There were a lot of roots to be avoided as a result of the overgrown trees, not to mention the occasional shrub, branch or rock to dodge. While the various obstacles made escape a bit more likely, this attribute of the forest worked both ways, good and bad. For a normal person this might be nothing but an advantage, but anyone less than healthy would find this troublesome to work around. After all, utilizing the complex maneuverability required effort, especially if you expected to make your opponents work hard to get you.
Or better yet...make them lose interest.
This was the strategy the labeled criminal tried his hardest to exploit, even as he increasingly lost his way after being forced far off his original route toward territory foreign to him.
Dodging another branch and hopping over another jumble of roots, he landed both feet firmly on the moss-stained terrain and continued on, grasping his freshly bleeding gut wound with his right hand and his firearm with the left.
The young man peered behind him briefly to check the progress of his pursuers. Brown eyes furrowed in mutual frustration as he watched them continue to follow him even given the time lapse of a good, what, nearly 10 minutes of rather intense running?
Sheesh...persistent for just one person, don'tcha think? He glowered silently at them under his messy blonde locks.
As if they heard his thoughts, one armored solder far behind him aimed his gun and shot at him, missing so badly it was almost laughable.
Frankly, the sharpshooter, possibly in his early twenties at most, wanted to impulsively take a moment to savor their deplorable combat skills with at least a taunt. But in his current state he thought much better of it.
Even if their aim stunk so bad they could only hit him point blank once, they were still a threat as long as they were armed and on his trail.
As much odium as he had for them it just wouldn't be worth it. He dared not underestimate their full capabilities lest he incur a stupid yet critical mistake that would bring down a hammer on him and he gets slammed for a crime he never committed.
The thought of such made the man frown.
No.
He had to keep going. Make it to the border. Get out of Nifilheim and hopefully to safety. Even if the new location didn't accept him right away, he'd rather face the uncertainty thinly lined with hope than the absolute brutal nature of the Nifilheim government. Considering the chase he put the soldiers through? Failure was simply never an option and certainly never can be now.
Snapping his attention back ahead of him, the blonde took note that the sky was nearly void of light as dusk continued to wane. He smirked at this, feeling a bit more confident that he could get away if he could make it to night time.
Avoiding another couple of trees, he sprinted a little faster with some pulsing pain in his stomach. Wincing, he ignored it to hide behind a nearby tree. He crouched down and twisted to turn toward the soldiers. The blonde man aimed his gun quickly, carefully honing in on a soldier in particular who was "closest" approaching (because even saying that is a stretch). He heard a few empty threats for him to stand down but he disregarded them since being detained was not exactly on his agenda.
Pulling the trigger a few times without hesitation when he was satisfied with his aim, the young man pushed himself off the tree and continued running. He didn't find it necessary to stick around to confirm his hit; he heard an anguished shout and a mish-mash of curses from the trio of soldiers which was good enough proof for him.
That's how it's done, geezers. He scoffed, gaining more distance from the soldiers. He wasn't running quite as fast as he was before thanks a lot to the worsening stinging of his injury, but he kept moving with a sense of security that maybe he'd get away without too much incident after all.
That was, until another shot rang out and he felt a graze in his right side.
"Huh...guess their learning curve is steep?" the man huffed doing what he could to massage the ache down as he continued on to disappear out of the soldiers' sight.
"No, no, NO! Dangit! We lost 'em again!" snarled a soldier ranked at Private who had thrown his gun on the ground, removed his helm and punched a tree frustrated. "That's the third one this week! Who loses three bounties in one week?! Most don't even track that many in one month! We're so roasted we might as well join him."
"I don't know…." said the Grunt of the group with traces of doubt looking after the area the criminal had run past. "Did you notice he ran much slower than he did before? His wounds must really be bothering him now, making it ideal for capture. We could probably catch up to him easily-."
"-Are you nuts?!" retorted the Private to the slightly younger Grunt who flinched at the aggressive tone. "You saw how he took down the Captain with one well aimed bullet under pressure! Imagine what he'll do with time to prepare! He's probably chillin' in a hidden bush right now, whistling a chipper tune as he loads a special shell with each of our names on it!" the Private huffed, crossing his arms. "I knew we should've kept going."
"What, and leave the Captain behind? What would be worse: lose a criminal or lose a criminal and a leader? We had to make sure he's alright." the Grunt challenged despite the rankings. The Private became incensed.
"This army doesn't function on 'sentiment'! The higher-ups don't take failure lightly. Either we come back with...whoever he was…what, Promina? Prognosis or something?"
"Prompto, if I'm not mistaken." The Grunt corrected. "You remember him. Last name Argentium, wanted on charges of-"
"-Whatever!" the Private snapped losing his temper. "If we return to camp without his head on a silver plate it'll be ours on a golden platter!" he shouted flailing his arms in panic at the situation. The Grunt wiped a hand over his face in exasperation while the shot Captain leaned against a tree stump, opening up a bottle of potion.
"You're contradicting yourself, not that it even matters since technically the orders come from Captain. But what do you honestly expect us to do if you don't want to chase him but you don't want to go back? I really don't even see why you're bloating this into that big of a issue in the first place. Some people are more slippery than others. So we got three slick people. Surely they've seen it happen."
Noticing the Grunt's passive behavior, the Private took hold of his shoulders seemingly trying to shake sense into him. "Are you even getting what I'm giving?! Catching the drift at all?! It doesn't always work that way! How else do I need to put it?! Chase him or not it will not matter! Either we get shot or maybe court marshaled for failure? Pick your poison; we're screwed with a capital twist!" he gesticulated mimicking the motion of utilizing a screwdriver tool.
"Quit your yapping, both of ya!" the Captain finally piped in, scowling at the duo. "Sweet Etro are you overreacting, Private. If you're really that scared, I'll take full responsibility for the failure, pansy."
"But sir! We still have a chance to complete our orders. Shouldn't we go after him and do just that?" The puzzled Grunt asked earnestly as the Private roughly released him and walked away to lean against the tree he punched.
"Eh, let him go." growled the captain as he continued on his second potion, sipping small amounts at a time since it was so darn disgusting. Gradually but surely, his bloody shoulder was closing up under his bullet-breeched pauldron given the medical boost. "With the way he was leaking tomato soup? He'll probably croak before the moon hits its peak. Besides…." He trailed with a slight smirk, peering through his own lifted visor, "with all the creepy beings that roam in this part of the forest? Surely he's as good as dead by the next sunrise, right Private?"
The Grunt, perplexed by the last part of the Captain's statement looked to the Private for some hint as to what he was talking about. The Private, who was largely stand-offish since the Captain initially yelled at him, paled a bit at the mention of the creepy forest inhabitants.
"Creepy beings?" the Grunt inquired. "If I may ask, Captain, what do you mean by that?"
"What, nobody told you the legend about this post?" The Captain asked briskly making the Grunt stiffen in posture.
"All I got was a location and boss, sir. I know nothing more than that." The Grunt replied stiffly. The Captain, on the other hand, gave a small chuckle at the Grunt's formal conduct towards him.
"At ease, soldier. Talk about fresh outta boot camp….." He muttered with amusement, taking another draught of potion and grimacing at its flavor. "This post has been said to be haunted."
"How so?"
The Captain shifted his weight a bit and looked up at the significantly dark sky, trying to recall the gist of the story.
"...They say decades ago, a large, lost civilization fell as quickly as it rose around here and the populace haunts this forest to this day, to put it plainly. Nobody knows much about it, but those that are brave, curious or stupid tried to look for its ruins time and time again. No one has turned up with anything yet. Countless soldiers who patrol this area say they've heard children laughing and singing twisted nursery rhymes. Others claimed to glimpse figures lurking amongst the shrubbery. Just real weird stuff."
"We've even had soldiers get attacked during some of the sightings...or come up missing. And when that happens, we can never seem to find them." Said the Private, slightly breaking out into a sweat at the thought. The Grunt was curious about the man's paranoia.
"Have...either of you seen anything?"
The Captain smirked as he and the Grunt watched the Private's terrified response.
"W-what?! What kind of question is that?! 'Have you seen anything!' Don't ask about something so absurd!" he demanded, ignoring him while leaning against the tree. The Captain scoffed at his colleague's resistance and spoke up instead.
"That translates to 'Yes. Yes I have.'" He began, addressing the Grunt while simultaneously mocking the Private. "Apparently, he was patrolling the camp one day and he heard a kid singing. Private Pansy over there went to check it out and found a little girl wandering around in the forest alone...or so it seemed. He tried to talk to the kid but she ran off into the wilderness, probably scared from seeing a soldier. He chased her a short distance but lost sight of her when she started weaving through bushes to escape him. Before he realized how far he had run, something shrieked behind him and knocked him out. Four hours later, he wakes up dazed to a squad of puzzled grunts with shattered dignity from being caught vulnerably unconscious." The Captain explained with a laugh. He then glanced over at the Private, who still ignored him. "Does that about sum it up, Maggot?"
All the two got in response was a snort as he pushed away from the tree defiantly.
"You can sneer all you want, sir. If they faced me head on, I could've taken them."
"Keep telling yourself that, cat-man. But that's digressing from my point." The Captain shrugged off before taking his final swig of his potion, allowing more of his wound to heal. He tossed the bottle away, slid down his visor and rose to his feet signaling the accompanying soldiers to stand at attention. The Private placed his helm on with reluctance then grabbed his gun. Standing with the Grunt, they saluted the Captain awaiting his next orders. "The past is the past, boys. We didn't nab that Prompto guy, but I honestly don't think he'll be a problem to us anymore. Keeping that in mind, we will return to the base standing tall and with dignity. We aren't going to cover up the details; we'll simply tell them everything that transpired here and let the chips fall where they may. Got it?"
The Private was about to pipe up his concerns again but one death-glare from the Captain shut his mouth as soon as it opened. The two subordinates before the Captain nodded in agreement; all spinning on their heels to return to whence they came as darkness finally set on the forest.
Nighttime had set in fully as an hour had passed since the escapee (presumably Prompto) was abandoned by the soldiers, left for dead to stumble about till he bled to his grave.
The young blonde had been limping a short distance after losing sight of them when he started coming across large dilapidated structures. Each one was a remnant of excavation, so he found; from heavy duty carts to old wagons and stables, they were sporadically scattered amongst the rocks, foliage and dirt in the seemingly endless forest. To the average traveler these structures and objects would be written off as nothing more than eye-sore junk and that's all it was at first. But the more he continued to find, for Prompto it turned out instead to be a sight for sore eyes.
He realized it was finally a sign of life! Of civilization! He figured that if he kept searching for more of these structures they would surely lead to at least a village where he might be able to get some help for his injuries. He saw the rotting skeletons of equipment long expended as a string of goals to be completed more than anything else.
Like hopping from one checkpoint to the next it gave him a reason to keep going. Essentially they were shimmers of hope that he'd be one step closer to whoever it might be in his next destination that could save his life.
But endurance did not equate to determination. On occasion, Prompto would have to take a break at the equipment to rest up briefly. Between the constant bleeding, the muscle fatigue and his receding energy levels it was all he could do to keep himself from passing out completely.
His best efforts while excruciating did not go unrewarded though. Prompto's very hopeful hunch and persistent pursuit indeed led him to a village within the vast forest, for he leaned huffing against a post within the open gate of a nameless (the sign is illegibly withered) town. This village was very small though; it had a layout of a tiny colonial township with sets of civic buildings at the heart and residences at the edges. A single wide main road was well cobbled for easy access to the slowly decaying buildings; the only thing interrupting the small sea of bricks was a central well sitting centered amongst it all. From the outskirts it was all very well hidden amongst the forest foliage probably courtesy of its neglected state. The buildings were big enough to support a population of a hundred citizens yet they were squat so most trees and overgrown vegetation could effortlessly dwarf it. The city camouflaged with nature so well if it was not for the moonlight he was sure he'd never have found it. Be that as it may, what was important was that he did and it was time to find someone capable of healing him.
"Talk about a detour."Prompto wheezed wearily to himself as his drowsy eyes fell upon the buildings unsatisfied with the new development. He realized it was unlikely that anyone would frequent this decomposing location but checking was better than nothing.
He took a few careful steps onto the cobbled road. Scuffling with difficulty down the street and slightly slumped, he searched the buildings for any sign of life at all.
"Hello?" he called out to nothing in particular. "Anyone here?"
With a loud grunt from an agonizing pang he dropped to his knees unable to support himself. Prompto winced as another wave of throbbing hit him making him clutch his abdomen unthinkingly. Peeling part of his dark leather vest out of the way to glance down towards his stomach Prompto frowned.
The pain surges were getting much worse and the blood kept gushing. He had nothing on him at all that he could put on it to slow it down, let alone an item to at least hold him over. While the marksman was morbidly curious as to how bad his injuries were, Prompto couldn't seem to bring himself to check what was really going on with the wounds under his muddled (used to be white) shirt. He couldn't tell if he was lacking true interest or if he was downright scared of what he might see. But whatever it was he settled to leave it alone. The odds were against him already; he didn't want to make it worse by reminding himself of his own mortality.
Becoming lightheaded, Prompto deciphered it as a warning to continue moving since staying idle at this point would prove detrimental. Prompto struggled to his feet with his trusty gun and continued on his way, keeping an eye out for anything at all indicating a human presence. He called out desperately a few more times to get the attention of anyone who might hear him but was heard nothing but the response of quiet nature.
Strained strides slowed into limp footsteps, and from footsteps reduced to clumsy shuffling as pain persisted and he began to sweat. It didn't take much time from there for him to lose his grip completely on his gun and drop back onto the ground. Aggravation swelled in his gut as he found himself losing more control of his weakening limbs but could do nothing after losing so much blood. He tried with every fiber of his being to call out one last time but the aches in his stomach and the spinning feeling in his head prevented otherwise.
Lethargy became Prompto's newest and toughest adversary in his fight to stay alive. To the young blonde, it was ironic that the rest he so badly needed would become his worst nightmare under his awful circumstances. He urged and urged for his eyes to stay open but he knew well that it was ultimately a losing battle. The blurring vision hit him hard first, and he was finally done in with unconsciousness once the slumber finally settled.