Zell was the first to return. Irvine heard the door beep in recognition of a key card, then Zell trundled in, bags bulging with snacks in each hand, his key card between his teeth.
"'Suh?" he said around the card, lifting his chin in greeting. He dumped the contents of the bags onto his bed and began sorting them using his own system of classification.
"Nothin' much," Irvine answered. "Had myself a lazy afternoon. Say, did Squall come back with you, by any chance?"
"Nope."
"I see. Any idea where he is, or when he might be back?"
"Dunno." Zell examined a bright red package, then tossed it into one of the piles of snacks he'd formed on his bed. He did the same with a handful of energy bars, assigning each to a different pile, then turned toward Irvine. "Why are you worried about Squall gettin' back? Is there something you need to ask him?"
"No, not exactly." Irvine thought for a moment. "Hey, Zell, you can keep a secret, right?"
"Depends on what it is. If you're doing something illegal, you'd better not tell me."
"It's nothing like that!" Irvine went to his nightstand and pulled out the box of Blue Bullets. Hunching over the box so Zell couldn't see the Odine Laboratories stamps on it, he pulled out a shell filled with yellow gel. "It's just new ammo, see? I found it at the shopping mall today." Technically, not a lie.
Zell examined the shell. "I've never seen anything like this before. What's it called?"
"Blue Bullet."
"But it's yellow."
"I just know the name, don't know how they got it. It's probably named after somebody. Horatio Blue, or whoever."
"So, what's the big deal about this ammo? Why don't you want Squall to know you have it?"
"Because I kinda don't know what it does yet." Irvine grinned sheepishly. "If Squall finds out, he won't let me use it in the hunt. Something about regulations and liability and stuff."
"He's right." Zell went back to organizing his snacks.
"But if I don't use it, I'll never learn what it does. And that's where you come in."
"I won't tell Squall. Now, let me finish sorting my food."
"I appreciate that, but that's not what I wanted to ask – yeouch!" Irvine tossed the shell onto his bed and looked at his fingers. While he'd been holding the shell, the gel inside had gradually warmed, until it became too hot to touch, and left the skin on his thumb and index finger bright red. He placed his injured fingers into his mouth, and withdrew them quickly when Zell turned around.
"Uh, just a cramp," Irvine said, grinning and massaging his hand. "Must've been holding that shell tighter than I thought."
"Weirdo."
"Anyway, as I was saying …" Irvine drifted off, frowning. The room swam around him; he felt for the bed, and sat down. He shook his head and blinked, and, after a few moments, his world stabilized again. "Whew, a little dizzy there. Must be this dry Estharian air. It really messes with my sinuses, and holy son of a Shumi, Zell, what's wrong with your face?"
"What the hell are you talking about, Kinneas?" Zell's features had become fluid, sliding across his face with each movement. When he tipped his head to the side, his eyes slid over, coming to rest against his temple. His tattoo shivered and wriggled and then broke free, slithering across Zell's face, forming a bridge between his eyebrows, then a pair of spectacles, and finally, a cartoonish mustache. Irvine didn't know whether to laugh or scream, and the result was a low-pitched chuckle.
"Hey, man, you okay?" Zell continued, approaching Irvine. His limbs were long and rubbery, twisting up on themselves, and when he reached out to feel Irvine's forehead, Irvine slapped his hand away and rolled backwards, off his bed and onto the floor between his and Squall's. He crouched there and pressed his palms to his eyes, muttering curses and hoping desperately that he would wake from this nightmare soon. He heard Zell's footsteps getting closer, felt his presence nearby, and slowly opened his eyes.
Zell looked fine.
"What the hell was that all about?" he asked, reaching down and helping Irvine up. "What's the matter with my face?"
"Nothing …" Irvine answered, his tongue feeling thick and heavy. What had that been? A hallucination? From what? He hadn't eaten anything strange today – breakfast at the hotel, a quick lunch near the shopping mall – and, even if he had, he figured he would've felt the effects of it far sooner. He'd only had water to drink since then, and had taken no medications. He'd done nothing out of the ordinary. Well, nothing except …
He looked at the bullet on the bed, then at his reddened fingertips. Was there a connection?
"Nothing, my ass!" Zell shouted. "You looked at me like I had three heads! Listen, I know I'm not the best-looking guy in the world, but you don't have to be so mean about it."
"N-no, I just thought I saw something on your face. A spider. Yeah, that's it, a spider. You know I'm scared of those things."
"Really?" A mischievous grin pulled at Zell's lips. "You're scared of spiders? Big bad Irvine Kinneas, ladies' man, lone wolf, sharpshooter, is scared of spiders?" He began to laugh. "Wait 'til Selphie gets a load of this!"
"Hey, I thought you were good at keeping secrets."
"Not this one. It's too wild. Spiders. Ha!"
Irvine flopped down on his bed, brushing the Blue Bullet away from him with the back of his hand and noticing a light scorch mark on the sheet beneath it. Whatever this ammunition was, it was powerful, and he was desperate to know how it functioned in battle. Causing hallucinations couldn't be the extent of it; that seemed like an incredibly inefficient way to fight. But since it seemed to be a side effect of usage, he definitely didn't want to try them out on the sly tomorrow, in case he went bonkers on the battlefield and ended up hurting someone, or himself. He could feel the window of opportunity closing; he had to do it tonight.
"Hey, Zell," he said, as casually as he could, "before this whole spider thing, I was about to ask you for a favor."
"What is it?" Zell had finished sorting his snacks and was now rationing them for the days ahead, putting a day's supply into his duffel bag and dropping each of the remaining rations into their own oversized zipper bag.
"Training. I'm still a great shot, but it's been a while since I've seen battle. I gotta get back into the flow of things."
"The way you're acting today? Forget it."
"Come on, Zell. I just need to get a feel for battle again, for the pace, for the danger."
Zell said nothing, and began labeling the bags.
"I'm gonna be dead weight tomorrow if I don't get a refresher tonight."
"Then why'd you wait so long? Why didn't you ask this morning?"
Irvine shrugged. "Overconfidence, I guess." He was willing to admit to anything, so long as he got a chance to try out that ammunition.
"That's a problem with you, isn't it?"
"Hey, I didn't ask for a character analysis! I only want a little practice."
Zell ignored him again. Irvine exhaled slowly. He didn't want to do this, but the situation called for drastic measures.
"Oh, I get it," he sneered. "You don't want to get in trouble. Little goody-two-shoes Zell, a true boy scout! Always follows the rules, never talks back to his mama!"
"I do so talk back to her!" Zell wheeled around and stamped his foot. "I just always apologize right after," he added quietly.
"See what I mean? Boy scout. It's nice to know I'm not the only one who hasn't changed."
"I'm not a boy scout!"
"Oh, then I guess you're just chicken. What was it that Seifer guy used to call you? Sefie told me … chicken-something … chicken-worm? Chicken-wolf? No, that doesn't make any sense …"
"Wuss! Chicken-wuss!" Zell's face was red, his fists clenched tightly. "And he's wrong! I'm not chicken, I just believe that rules are there for a reason. And they are."
"Really? 'Cause that's something a chicken would say."
"I am not a chicken!"
"Prove it."
"Aargh, fine! I'll take you for a quick training session." Zell returned to his snacks. "As soon as Squall gets back."
Irvine clucked.
Zell groaned. "Okay, get ready. I'll leave him a note. We'll rent a car and drive a little ways out of the city. Only for a couple hours, though; I need to rest for tomorrow."
"Yes, sir! Thank you, oh brave and wonderful –"
"Get moving!"
• • • •
Tears' Point was eerie at nighttime. The crystals had long since expended whatever energy they'd had left after reacting to the Lunatic Pandora, and now stood cold and dark in their cracked cases, casting long shadows in the moonlight. The air was heavy and still, but not silent: creatures scuttled among the boxes, claws scraping on glass and stone amid the soft growls of Toramas and the clanking footsteps of Iron Giants.
"I said just outside the city," Zell whispered, running to catch up to Irvine. He grumbled and groused, having been goaded into venturing farther and farther from the city before ending up here.
"Yeah, but the plains have Behemoths," Irvine said, "and I do not want to run into them without a full party."
"Toramas are worse. They've got some nasty spells, and you aren't even junctioned."
"Are you?"
"Yeah."
"Does Squall know?"
"Shut up."
Irvine crept down the main walkway, and froze when a group of Turtapods spotted him. They hobbled toward him, moving faster than he remembered, and engaged in combat. He'd forgotten how tough they were; it took several rounds to take just one of them down, and he took a few hits in the process. Zell stood by, administering Cure spells as needed, and growing more impatient by the second. Rolling his eyes, he finally stepped forward and cast a Death spell on one Turtapod, killing it instantly, then rushed up and punched the other, leaving it momentarily stunned. Irvine seized the opportunity to finish it off. He turned to Zell with a smile, but was met with a frown and shaking head.
"You're gonna be dead weight tomorrow, no matter what," Zell said. "You're not used to things actually fighting back anymore, are you?"
"Of course not." Irvine reloaded his gun. "That's why I need the practice."
"You need a lot more than what you'll get tonight."
"Relax. I'm a quick re-learner. I'll be back in tip-top fighting form before we leave here." He peered around a darkened box, and was driven back, shouting and flailing, by a group of Imps.
He disposed of the three monsters easily this time, and turned toward Zell with a smirk. But as he was flicking up the brim of his hat to underscore his reclaimed confidence, one of the dying Imps concentrated its remaining energy into a Holy spell that left Irvine's skin sizzling. Zell smacked his forehead and tossed him an X-Potion.
The medicine was cool as it slid down Irvine's throat, and that coolness radiated through his body, repairing his skin and revitalizing him.
"See?" he said, staggering backwards and leaning against a box, struggling to appear nonchalant. "Back in form!"
"Like hell you are," Zell replied. "Come on, we're heading back. Before you get yourself killed."
"Wait! I haven't tried the new ammo yet."
"You're not going to. It's too dangerous. Let's go."
"Just one battle. Please? I'm dying to know what they do!"
"Interesting choice of words."
"C'mon Zell, be a sport! I know you're just as curious as I am." Irvine rummaged through his bag and pulled out the box of Blue Bullets. He opened it and selected one filled with red gel, then held it up in the moonlight and watched Zell's expression soften.
"Well, maybe." Zell held up one finger. "But only one more!"
"Got it! In that case, we need something with high defense, so I can try out all these babies … Hey, is that an Iron Giant over there? Let's get 'im!"
The Iron Giant creaked and clanged, rust and sand pouring from its joints with every movement. It was slower than Irvine remembered, and he easily dodged its attack. He waited until the monster paused to scan the area, its vision obscured by its own broad torso; then, he took careful aim, and fired.
He heard the bullet's impact on metal, but saw no effect on the Iron Giant. He frowned, and was beginning to wonder if these bullets weren't some kind of harmless novelty – a gag gift, perhaps – when a bright light forced him to look away. The light was accompanied by a high-pitched sound, and when he ventured a glance, he saw that it had become a red beam that sliced a clean line through the giant's body from its feet to the top of its head. The Iron Giant stumbled backwards, and was slow to straighten.
"Whoa! Did you see that?" Irvine nudged Zell with his elbow. "That looked like some kind of laser-thingy!"
"It was." Zell drew his brows together. "I've seen it before …"
"Hey, it's kinda like Quisty's spell, isn't it?"
"No, hers doesn't travel." Zell assumed a defensive position as the Iron Giant recovered. "It looked more like the laser attack from a Funguar."
"Funguar? Why would they make ammo mimicking an monster's attack?" Irvine looked at the green shell he was loading into his gun and grimaced. "You don't suppose that's what's in these things, do you? Bits of monsters?"
"That's sick, man. Where do you get those stupid ideas?" Zell shook off his disgust and motioned toward the Iron Giant. "Now, focus, unless you wanna get chopped in half!"
Irvine turned his attention back to the monster and dodged its attack. It moved even slower now that it had been injured. He almost felt sorry for it. Almost. He dodged another swipe, then raised his gun, aimed, and fired. Again, the sound of the shell hitting metal, followed by seconds of silence. This time, the silence was broken by a crackling sound, and tendrils of yellow light emerged from the site of impact, wrapping around the Iron Giant and immobilizing it. Once the light faded, the giant staggered again.
"These things are awesome!" Irvine picked up a yellow shell. "All right, you burned my fingers earlier, let's see what you really do now!"
He watched the giant get back on its feet and prepared for another attack. When it didn't come, Irvine took aim. He registered Zell's cries to hold his fire only after he pulled the trigger.
Irvine realized too late that the Iron Giant hadn't attacked because it was preparing a spell. It reached out, heavy rusted fingers splayed, and cast Mighty Guard. Irvine's bullet hit the giant just as the barrier began to form. The outward force of the spell deflected the bullet, and Irvine fell to the ground as something swept his right leg out from beneath him.
"Dammit, I told you not to shoot!" Zell rushed to Irvine's side and rolled him over, then winced at what he saw.
Irvine blinked up at him, and gradually became aware of excruciating pain in his leg. He raised himself to his elbows to investigate, then cursed at the top of his lungs when he saw the wound. The bullet had ricocheted directly into his leg, tearing through his chaps, his pants, his skin and muscle, before rupturing against his bone. Viscous yellow fluid seeped from the shell, steaming and sizzling as it made contact with his flesh. Irvine yowled, then grabbed the remains of the shell, yanked it free, and flung it into the shadows.
Zell, meanwhile, had risen and cast a Blind spell on the Iron Giant. The monster swung and stumbled, harmless so long as it didn't fall on them. He knelt beside Irvine once more and unscrewed the cap on another X-Potion.
"This is gonna sting a bit," he warned, before pouring the contents of the bottle into the wound.
Irvine's screams went up a register as the potion bubbled and foamed, cleansing the wound. When the reaction subsided, however, the yellow gel remained. Zell tried again, with the same results. Then, looking at puddle of blood beneath Irvine's leg, he shrugged and cast Curaga.
Irvine's stomach lurched, and he swallowed hard as he watched his blood flow back into his wound, followed by his muscles and skin stitching themselves together again, leaving the holes in his clothes as the only evidence that he had been injured. He hated magical healing, especially of traumatic injuries. It was unnatural. Give him a tourniquet and a splint any day, and let his body heal on its own.
"Get up," Zell told him. "You still have to finish this guy off."
Irvine flopped onto the cool concrete. "Can't you do it? That 'healing' of yours wiped me out. Thanks a lot, Dr. Dincht."
"You're welcome."
"I was being sarcastic."
"I wasn't. If it wasn't for me, you'd still be bleeding. And with your carrying on like a baby, it wouldn't have been long before a Torama took you for a late-night snack."
"Eh …"
"Get up."
"Do I have to?"
"Do you want your paycheck?" Zell towered over him, shoulders squared. Behind him, the Iron Giant still swung at the air. "If you can't finish this battle, then I have no choice but to tell Squall what you've been up to. Using unauthorized ammunition, engaging in unauthorized training, battling without proper protective junctions. He'll send you straight back to Deling City."
Irvine pushed himself up to his knees. "Oh yeah? And what about you? You've gone along with everything you just listed. He'll sideline you, too!"
"Yeah, well …" Zell stammered, trying to come up with scathing response. Irvine smirked and collected his gun, then tentatively got to his feet. "Well, you're a crappy fighter!" Zell finally said, jabbing a finger into Irvine's chest. "You'll drag us all down! I swear, if you can't even off an Iron Giant, a blinded Iron Giant, then you don't deserve whatever Laguna's paying you."
"Chill, Dincht." Irvine reloaded his gun, with regular ammunition this time, and dispatched the Iron Giant after several rounds. "There. Happy?" He shouldered his bag and limped toward the exit.
"Finally!" Zell jogged ahead, and had the car running by the time Irvine reached it. "You really are rusty, Kinneas. I hope you do better tomorrow. And no crazy ammo!"
"Fine." Irvine fastened his seatbelt and rolled down the window. The air had cooled as the night wore on, and it felt refreshing against the sweat beading on his upper lip. He watched the stars twinkle overhead, and couldn't help feeling disappointed. Seeing what the red and green shells had done, he definitely wanted to see what the others would. Now, he'd never get the chance. There was no way he could incorporate this new ammunition into his competitive routine.
Despite the night breeze, he continued to sweat. He removed his hat and ran his hand across his forehead, then shook it dry out the window. He had worried that the contents of the shell might have a more pronounced effect on him than they had before, now that they were actually inside his body. But, so far, he hadn't felt dizzy, and had had no hallucinations. He did, however, have a stomachache that was steadily getting worse. Sweat continued to stream down his face, and bile rose into the back of his throat. He was about to ask Zell to stop the car when more than bile made the trip up. Unable to speak, he leaned out the window and retched, leaving a trail of vomit streaked along the side of the car.
"What the hell?" Zell slammed on the brakes, raising a cloud of dust. Irvine undid his seatbelt and stumbled out of the car. He fell to his knees and continued retching, until his throat burned and his stomach cramped. When he seemed to have run out of vomit, he shakily rose, and dusted his knees.
He turned to face Zell, and squinted at the bright lights of Esthar City behind him. "I'm fine," he said, but then the city and the stars switched places, and he found himself back on the ground.
"Still fine," he shouted. "Just need a hand."
Zell sighed and walked over, helping him to his feet and muttering about the extra gil the rental company would charge for cleaning the car.
"Hey Zell," Irvine mumbled, leaning on him, "you still can keep a secret, right?"
"I don't know about this one. You're in bad shape."
"'Snothin'. Maybe I ate somethin' bad today, y'know? And then getting hit with my own shot didn't feel too good, either." He swayed on his feet, then fell into the car seat with a heavy thud. "I think I just need some rest. I'll be better by morning."
"I hope so. Otherwise, I'm gonna have to tell Squall."
"You keep those lips zipped, mister! I'll be fine." Irvine settled into his seat and pulled his hat over his eyes, then pointed toward the city. "Driver, to the hotel."
Zell made some objection that he didn't catch. It didn't matter. He was tired, and he figured that snagging a quick nap on the way back to the city would help him appear less wobbly in front of Squall. He needed rest, that was all. He would be okay.
He bit his lip and breathed deeply, repeating this to himself and trying to ignore the twitching muscles in his legs.
