Machina Boy
By: InnerFathoms
Setting: Three months after VegnaGun's defeat, following the 'good' ending of Final Fantasy X-2.
Summary: Why do the best of dreams always leave one hanging on the edge of bliss? Can a simple machina boy ever find out if the real world could ever offer anything close to a dream unfulfilled? Machine Faction leader Gippal has been enjoying his new accommodations post-VegnaGun, though he is hesitant as to enjoy the laude that is placing him above his fellow workers. One who always strives for equality among his employers, Gippal can get down and dirty like the best of them. But after a brief machina incident in the temple, his suspicions are formed. And after a morning jog, a bizarre fiend attack leaves him reeling with more questions than answers and plenty of scars to convince him that the technology being accepted by all of Spira may not be all that it promises to be...As if that weren't enough, a secretly-missed but never forgotten face shows up at Djose. Can Gippal witness his dreams coming true and fix up the machina before their malfunctions tarnish his reputation? Or will Spira's favorite Machina Boy experience what it's like when worlds collide?
Discretions: Not too many here, but I will try to state some mere aspects of the story to keep things in line. Gippal is twenty-one, Rikku is still seventeen. They have not seen each other since the VegnaGun ordeal. The Al Bhed machina technology is slowly overtaking Spira, supposedly in a good way, as the different tribes begin to acknowledge the convenience and usefulness of state-of-the-art machinery.
Couples: Hints at Gippal/Rikku (Will be listed or introduced by chapter.)
Genre-Rating: Romance/Action, Adventure-Teen
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy and all its many characters, worlds,and locations belong to SquareSoft (now SquareEnix) and are by no means either mine nor am I making any profit.
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Chapter I: Dawn of Dreams
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He knows that she is sitting beside him in the sand, gazing out into the beyond. The sun is setting over the sand dunes and casting shadows amongst the earthly contours beneath them. Black velvet skies are dragging along the last remnants of sunlight, as the climax of a majestic sunset stalls just long enough to make this moment of dusk feel like an eternity. A breeze catches a lock of fine golden hair and whips it across his face, tickling his nose. An innocent giggle follows, musical and undemanding, not what would follow a punch-line, but the sound that would come after a bout of pleasure. Her giggles lift his spirits and touch something deep inside him. The feeling is strange, exciting, and alarming, but it rises up into his throat and escapes in the form of a hearty chuckle. He falls onto his back, as does she, their fingers interlacing on a subconscious level. The particles of sand feel good against his back, but the slender warmth lacing his fingers is infinitely better. He turns on his side, throwing caution to the wind as he leans over and…
Why do the best of dreams always leave one hanging on the edge of bliss, yearning for more, an unsatisfied appetite borne from the unfairness of reality? They are the select few that make sleep all the more desired, the opportune time to access a world where anything is possible and the inhibitions are eased. Time is vague and the mood is everything, when a dream is as enchanting as a beautiful painting but as fragile as a house of cards waiting to be cheated by the wind. The residual feelings are accepted upon awakening from the enraptured state, wondering if the real world could ever offer anything close to a dream unfulfilled…
Where did that mumbo-jumbo come from? Gippal mused, groping the dark for his bedside lamp as incoherent thoughts struggled to register with his waking mind. The darkness was calming, restricting on his senses so that he could embrace the warm cocoon of his bed and attempt to gather his wits in peace.
Twilight lingered outside his bedroom in a tiny structure set half-hidden in the back recedes of the Djose temple. Having his own room, his own tiny home, was a blessing, though Gippal sometimes felt guilty for leaving his fellow workers back in the tents. He was a leader, yes, and wildly skilled in his field of expertise with the Machine Faction, but he still regarded his position as one that required hard work and grittiness, but not such lovely accommodations like a personal adobe.
Nobody had voiced any complaints when Cid had all but ordered Gippal to have a place of his own. The gesture was considerate, uplifting, but Gippal had become used to sleeping amongst other men and women in tents, sharing the mirror while shaving and changing clothes with disregard to modesty. They felt more like a family, and the Faction always worked better together when everyone considered themselves equals. Gippal could still get down and dirty like the others, he could still sweat as much, complain as much, and laugh at crude jokes as much, but times were inevitably changing. His position was being lauded like never before. The praises were drawing him away from those he sought to fit in with like a friend, not a boss.
Shafts of sunlight pierced the darkness of his bedroom womb, orange effervescence amidst the sea of blackness. He focused on the majestic beauty, and accepted the urge to go out and watch the sunrise.
Outside, the air was bitingly frigid, and Gippal wore only his favorite chocobo boxers. Gooseflesh rippled along his tanned skin, causing him to shiver. He breathed in the air thirstily and closed his eyes, listening to the whistle of a nice breeze. He was alone outside, the outer grounds of the temple deserted except for a few furry inhabitants.
The Machine Faction had taken a cut recently, brought upon them at Cid's command. Ever since VegnaGun had been dismantled three months ago, the self-proclaimed "Al Bhed leader" and much-respected airship pilot had stepped up to the challenge of reorganizing his fellow people after the defeat of the omnipotent threat to Spira. He needed more manpower back home at Bikanel, and out of the thirty or so Machine Faction employees residing at Djose, he had chosen about fifteen workers to return to their homeland and join him in a special project concerning the development of state-of-the-art machina. The number was small, but when compared to the number of remaining employees, it was a solid blow to the Faction. Most of the people who'd left were good buddies to Gippal, and he was a little sad to see them go. He'd been working with these people for the better part of two years, not long after the Calm had set in.
But Cid knew what he was doing. The Faction's machina work was slow as of lately, and losing half of its workers wouldn't be very devastating. The labor could still be upheld by the remaining workers, and Cid promised to return a greater amount of people than he had taken, whenever they finished with his latest project.
That same day, less than a week ago, Cid had insisted on Gippal moving into his own place. He chided that any respectful, deserving leader should have his own private quarters. A boss was supposed to get close to his employees, but getting too close could jeopardize the Faction. Gippal had disagreed, but kept the adamant opinion to himself.
So, with Cid and others back on the island working on a new and exciting endeavor, and with the lack of rigorous labor for the Machine Faction, Gippal found himself relaxing more and enjoying the world around him. It was a welcomed change, but he still craved some adrenaline, some challenge, and he feared that he would become lazy if inactive for too long.
The bold dawn began peaking over the tips of the rocky chasm surrounding the temple, warming Gippal as sunlight poured down on him like crimson rain. He sighed and opened his eyes, thinking back to today's working schedule which greatly lacked much of anything. A few select machina weapons had gone haywire the day before, and had attacked a couple of the workers. It had been the most excitement Gippal had seen since VegnaGun; it had his blood bumping and his muscles working. But they had been disarmed too quickly, and Gippal was left with questions burning through his thoughts while his heart rate had hardly risen.
The escapade from the mundane had left him a little concerned, but the machina had been repaired and most of the workers had forgotten about it. It was peculiar but dismissible; however, machina hardly malfunctioned on Gippal's watch, and suspicions had quickly formed in his mind. By nightfall though, they had dissipated.
"Paranoia never did anybody any good," Gippal told the sunrise, stretching his weary limbs. He returned to his tiny but cozy home, intent on preparing a light breakfast and getting in some exercise. Jogging had become accustomed to his schedule, thanks to all the free time and the fear of becoming a slob with all the lack of manual labor. In his mind, Gippal knew he could never sink to that level; he was the most fit out of any of the Faction, and he prided himself on that. The leader should be someone to look up to and admire, something that his employees could strive for.
Besides, an early morning jog gave him an excuse to take in the sights of Djose, Mushroom Rock Road, and the Moonflow. He feared that he was turning into a nature freak, but slowing down had allowed him to tune in with nature and the beauty of it, though he never admitted that to so much as another soul. To the casual observer, he was simply keeping in shape. Nobody else knew their favorite Machina Boy was turning into a regular ol' softie.
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The temperature was perfect for a jog; cool enough to keep him comfortable but not too icy to where he had to bundle up. Gippal stepped outside with some baggy trousers and no shirt. Fitting running shoes adorned his feet as he stretched in the sun near the worker's tent. Unlike their leader, the fifteen or so Faction employees enjoyed the opportunity to sleep in, and always banked on it at least till seven-thirty or eight o' clock. Gippal had somewhere around half an hour to return unseen.
His footsteps slapped the stone bridges in rhythmic beats in synch with his short breaths. Exiting the temple grounds, Gippal turned left and picked the Djose Highroad for his running destination. He would run onto the beach and maybe take a dip in the water. The sky above him was cloudless and picturesque, his surroundings soundless and serene.
Great observations, nature boy, he ranted to himself with a smile, pumping his arms and legs at a steady pace. His thoughts drifted to Cid's special project, which, surprisingly, he had been kept in the dark about. Gippal had been surprised to find out that the airship guru had wanted one of his best men to continue holding the reins of a bored Machine Faction instead of diving into the giddy unknown of a potential machina exploration.
The running was a great way to organize his thoughts, but Gippal found that banishing the clutter in his mind would help him appreciate the run more.
A Simurgh squawked overhead, flapping its wings repeatedly and sending a shower of feathers down towards the earth. Gippal grinned at the bird and laughed, finding its antics amusing.
His eyes were still on the winged creature when something growled from his left side and the air suddenly shifted.
Honed reflexes saved Gippal's hide as he ducked low and rolled along the ground as a Garm snapped at the space he had previously been occupying. He rolled onto his feet and swatted at his side, dismayed to realize that he was not carrying his weapon. Armed with nothing more than his physical prowess and wits, Gippal took a few steps back from the menacing fiend, as it lashed out at him with uncanny savageness.
He sidestepped the canine and brought his knee up into its side, ramming it with punishing force. Not a single whine of pain escaped the creature, as it merely recovered from its diverted trajectory and landed on all four paws. Stunned, Gippal eyed the fiend with wary eyes, already taken aback by its berserk demeanor. Never had he encountered any tempered fiends on his runs, and never had he seen a Garm with such a fieriness burning in its eyes. He would call the sight inhuman, but seeing how the individual in question wasn't human to begin with…
A second close call snapped Gippal back to reality as he leapt backwards to avoid the canine's fangs. Unexpectedly, it extended its leap and pressed its paws into Gippal's chest, knocking him off balance as he landed after his evasion. He hit the rocky earth on his back with a muzzle nipping at his exposed throat. Desperately, he gripped the creature's snout and forced it backwards, trying to avoid losing a finger while keeping the fangs away from his neck. He brought up his knee and placed his foot on the fiend's belly and cast it backwards with a grunt. It hit the ground and flipped wildly onto its paws, taking advantage of its innate lithe grace and flexible body.
This time, the fiend pounced on Gippal before he was even on his feet. Defensively, he stuck out his arm to block the oncoming attack, receiving a toothy chomp to his forearm. Pain flooded his arm and blood oozed from the incisions, but Gippal managed to pry the muzzle open with an angry yell. He kicked the creature in the head but still did not score even the quietest whimper.
It's as if this thing isn't really a Garm, Gippal wondered, holding his injured forearm to his chest and applying pressure to the wound with his other hand to slow the bleeding. The flow was minimal, but the stinging was unnerving.
Staying light on his feet while still in disbelief, Gippal dodged another assault and drove a roundhouse kick into the fiend's hind leg. Its leg kicked out from under its trunk, and the creature slipped and toppled down the rocky slope lining the road. It slammed into the sand below, howling in primal fury more than in pain. Gippal appraised the rabid creature with a shocked look before heading back towards the temple in a sprint.
He spotted the wacky Simurgh above him as it dive-bombed the injured Machine Faction leader. Crying out, Gippal spun away as the bird's beak pierced the rocky road instead of his soft flesh. The motion caused Gippal to lose his balance as he careened towards the edge of the road, about to befall the same fate as the Garm.
At the last second before the plunge, Gippal wrapped his uninjured arm around one of the natural earth pillars formed on the edge of the road.
But the insane Simurgh pecked at the back of his hand, drawing blood and forcing his hand open. His fingers scratched the rocky formation futilely before he went horizontal, bracing against the jagged rocks of the precipice.
He tumbled end over end, the world spiraling out of control, and he landed with his face buried in the sand. A menacing growl convinced him scramble to his feet and spit out the mouthful of sand. He'd sustained a few minor cuts and abrasions along his legs, arms, and torso, but the main disadvantage from the fall was the disorientation it had bred. Gippal's need for a clear head was a rational desire, as it was hard enough to avoid the Garm without his head spinning.
The Simurgh descended once more, narrowly missing Gippal's head as its target and instead burrowing into the beach sand. The Garm lunged at Gippal, fangs bared and guttural growl booming. The canine's teeth clamped around a piece of Gippal's trousers and held defiantly, preventing him from putting any more than a foot between himself and the fiend. He tried pulling away but the creature dragged along with him, jerking its end wildly with his shorts in its mouth.
Bashing down on the fiend's skull did little good but distract Gippal from the second threat until it was too late. The razor-sharp beak slashed his shoulder, opening a nasty cut that allowed multiple trickles of blood to escape down his torso. At the same time, the Garm leaned forward and sank its teeth into the meat of his thigh, causing Gippal to cry out in both agony and fury. He pummeled the creature with both his fists, and received an electrical spark for his efforts. The flash blinded him and further confused him, twisting the bounds of his knowledge of fiends and shaking his sense of reality. Since when did Garms have electrical insides?
The rage laced Gippal's movements as he danced around the aerial fiend and landed a finalizing blow to its body. His knuckles crushed into the bird but something protruded from its flesh and pricked his knuckles. The fiend hit the sand hard, croaking.
Gippal stumbled away, about to drown in the wave of pain curling over him. His knees buckled and he fell onto his back in the sand, battered and bleeding, his mind reeling.
Too many questions worsened the fog clouding his head, until everything mercifully subsided and cold darkness greeted the Machina Boy with open arms.
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Author's Note: Dun, dun, dun! So begins the tale of everybody's favorite Machina Boy as he learns that everything is not what it seems! This story is to be told from Gippal's third person point of view, and expect Rikku to come along very soon. Other beloved characters may make cameos or appearances along with some OCs. First and foremost, this is a GippalxRikku epic, and the external conditions should be as tumultuous as the internal conditions of their relationship. Seeing as they are longtime rivals and bickering friends, who's to say what could happen when they agree to work together for the betterment of Spira, set against the backdrop of a conspiracy! And, as always, please review! Feedback is much appreciated and will help me craft this story to the better part of your entertainment! Questions are welcomed as well, so please ask, as I want you readers to be able to stay close to this story and understand everything. Let me know if you get stranded at any point! Thank you to all those reading this and please remember to review!
Next Time: Rikku makes her first appearance and ends up only putting further strain on Gippal's life as it spirals from the mundane to the chaotic. More depth to the mystery as trouble arrives on the homefront for the Machine Faction next time in...Morning of Mystery.
-fathoms-