Chapter 4: Escape From Fanatic's Tower

Edgar and his bodyguard adjusted their hoods to get a better glimpse of Gabe in his saddened state. For the last ten minutes, the broad shouldered brute had been slumped down in a chair in front of Cirra's bed, wallowing in his misery. Gabe's knees were shaking from pain that tormented him from the inside, and his head was buried behind the huge hands that clasped around his neck and pulled it downward.

"I feel sorry for the guy," the bodyguard whispered to Edgar from under his soaked, baggy cloak.

"He's our enemy though. Nobody deserves to have a loved one die in their hands, and his wife was a beautiful woman in her prime . . . but she was our enemy also. In war, you can hold no pity for the other side, remember that. If you get too soft, you'll get killed. I want to say that I'm happy at the turn of events Mik, that we can catch them off guard easily, but . . . how tragic, "Edgar's voice trailed off. The two spies cautiously backed away from the entrance and stepped softly so as not to attract any attention to themselves. As they strayed away further, Edgar heard something like a rock skitter across the ground behind him. He looked back just in time to see a sword swing down and stop less than an inch away from his brow. The king of Figaro breathed hard, his hood falling back from his face showing his look of fear, thinking that they had been caught . . . but they hadn't, "Shadow!"

"You guys are too loud. It's amazing that you haven't been captured yet," the mysterious ninja confronted the two of them, his voice a mere decibel above the silence around them. Mik took his hand away from the grip on his dagger and walked towards Shadow, watching him as he dragged his katana over the edge of its sheath before sliding it back into the black leather. The downpour that had fallen earlier was now no more than a drizzle, and a cool breeze refreshed the weary spies as they traded information.

"Damn!" Edgar whispered. There was a hint of anger in his voice, "don't scare me like that! I need to tell you about-"

"There's no time. I saw some tower attendants coming your way, we should leave this place immediately," Shadow commanded, his voice still slightly agitated.

"Alright, "Mik replied rather loudly. The shuffle of footsteps could be heard rounding the corner nearest to them as they pulled their hoods back down.

"Quiet! Against the wall now!" Shadow did a graceful back flip and landed on the rooftop of the small building, his dark and durable Genji gear concealing him well with the light of night. Mik and Edgar pulled their hoods down farther to conceal their faces and prayed to god that they wouldn't be caught. A small group of priests slowly filed past Mik and Edgar, chanting words of mourning for their fallen priestess. A guard followed closely behind the progression, mourning Cirra's death as well. He noticed the two shady looking figures hunched against the wall and was curious as to why they weren't joining the progression.

"Aren't you going to the ceremony?" the guard pressured them both, getting close enough to them that they could see his breath in the cold night air.

"Uh, yeah," Edgar quipped. He quickly pat Mik on the back, making him cough, "but my comrade here isn't feeling too well,"

"I see. I hope he feels better, we all feel horrible on this dark day. Did you bring some offerings? I could take them for you if you want me too. Hopefully our sacrifices will appease Kefka so that he might ease our sorrow," the guard continued, pushing them for answers. Edgar shook his head no, and his nonchalant attitude seemed to get the zealot angry.

"Yes we did. I am giving our finest bottles of wine that were used in times of celebration to Kefka. Would you like to see them?" Mik blurted out before Edgar could cover for them.

"Wine?! Wine is forbidden on these sacred grounds! Everybody knows that, so this must mean . . . IMPOSTERS!" The guard yelled as he snatched the cloak off of Edgar's body, revealing his wondrously bright, light blue chain mail armor underneath.

Mik reached into his robe and acted with lightning quick reflexes, "You're right!" the bodyguard's hand grabbed the dirk from his belt and embedded directly into the guard's throat. Before the tower sentry could react, his attacker clutched his throat and slit it. The dying man frantically tried to yell, but blood gushed out of his wound instead of words. He tried to loosen Mik's grip but he held strong, causing the blood to pour out even more. The guard soon gave up and dropped to the ground with a dull thud, his eyes wide open in horror. Edgar's bodyguard took the underside of his robe and cleansed the knife of its recent sin, then put the trusty dirk back in its sheath, patting it with pride.

Shadow hurriedly came down from his silent perch and punched Mik in the jaw. "You idiot! Our cover is blown! We have to leave right now!" Shadow told the short-tempered bodyguard with narrowing eyes and flaring nostrils.

As Shadow turned his back and began to walk down the steps, Mik jumped back at him swinging. He would have hit Shadow if his fist hadn't been stopped by Edgar, "C'mon, lets just get out of here," he remarked, "We can talk about this later."

The three of them moved down the creaky steps of the huge building as fast as they could. Shadow had led them no more than twelve floors down when a scream rang out from above. A commotion could be heard brewing up a couple flights of stairs and a person suddenly leaned over the railing, spotting them. "THERE ARE THE MURDERERS! DON'T LET THEM GET AWAY! KILL THE INTRUDERS!"

"Shit," Edgar said in an annoyed tone, "Ditch the robes, we've been identified," Mik hesitated, "Come on get your butts in gear!"

A bell echoed through the upper levels and alerted all that had been sleeping at the tower of their presence. It was normally used to signal the beginning of worship for Kefka's followers, but on this damp night, it was being used to help catch escaping spies.

Shadow glanced below them past the thousands of feet steel and saw members of the cult clamoring up the steps at the base of the tower. From their height of 50 floors up, it looked like ants were stampeding over each other, trampling one another to get a bite of sugar. Edgar and Mik had been aware of this after having staked out the establishment and the customs of this cult for the last month, and they also knew the fanatics were bloodthirsty warriors. The cult was very quick to worship, usually congregating in less than ten minutes once the signal had been given. The vengeful screams from above traveled much easier through the dark night now that the rain had stopped, and everybody was alerted to their presence now. They had no choice but to ready their weapons as they ran down the stairs. As much as they didn't want to, the group knew that there was going to be a one hell of a brawl tonight.

Shadow's Stunner gleamed in the starlight as he ran down the stairs as fast as he could, cutting the distance between himself and his foes in half in a matter of a few seconds. In a continuous clamor coming from above, more waking followers had stumbled out of their rooms. As he ran by an opening door, Mik slammed its inhabitant in the face and knocked him onto the floor. It would only be a matter of time before the spies were cut off. Edgar drew his Falchion broadsword from a deep sheath on his back as he rounded the next flight of stairs, jumping down a few steps with a loud clang from his boots. It was a fairly big sword, as sharp as a diamond and strong enough to pierce an adamantine's shell. The wonderful craftsmanship drew respect from its allies, and fear from its foes.

The bell resonated through the metal stairs a second time as a second person sounded the alarm from below. The party was trapped from going in either direction now. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide . . .

The first group of cult members and priests moved in for the kill, crawling down the stairs from above cautiously and sneaking from below quietly. They slowly encircled the group, staffs raised and swords shimmering. Shadow organized his friends into a triangle formation, their backs leaning up against one another as they waited for the first strike.

"Look at them, they're shaking. They are weak . . . "Shadow stated, "Only the weak think they'll lose."

Gabe was a couple floors above them and yelled out to the first wave to kill the spies. The first battalion of priests rushed excitedly down the stairs, kept at bay by Shadow as he flung swarms of ninja stars in their direction. The nasty metal projectiles whistled in the air, their sharp prongs embedding deeply into the soft flesh of the attackers, keeping the top levels from advancing down any further towards them. Some brave souls ran down to battle, their weapons raised and battle cries escaping their lips, not caring if they would die or not. They were massacred sooner than they could cry out as small shinai's plunged into their throats. The razor sharp blades of the versatile weapons gouged deep into their skin, creating a wound that could not close even when pulled out.

Shadow's deadly accuracy started to pile dozens of bodies against the wall, bodies flying over the rails as soon as they came into view of the dark shinobi. He hit the robed figures in the fleshy spot of their necks, targeting their main artery. Blood would spray out and coat the white robes of the priests, but the crazy mob would keep on coming. If Shadow missed with the first attack, he would always follow up with a handful of shruikens into their chest. His victims would double over in pain, but the insane mob would toss their bodies over the edge just to get the spies' blood on their swords.

"I can't hold them off forever guys! If we're going to do something, we need to do it NOW! Think of something quick before I have to, and believe me, you don't want to know what I have in mind!" Shadow shot over to the others as they struggled to gain ground against the priests coming from below. His sheathes of weaponry were becoming empty . . . soon it would be hand to hand combat.

"We're trying!" Edgar shot back as he unloaded a round of arrows from his Auto crossbow. With a pull of the trigger the wire snapped forward from Edgar's weapon and five arrows whistled through the air. All the quintuple set of shafts found their mark with lightning quick speed, sending five cult members screaming over the edge of the stairway to their deaths far below. The Auto-Crossbow was a very powerful weapon and also an easy one to use. All it needed was reloading, the wire would always snap back into position each time it was shot ready for the next attack. Edgar loaded it like mad, unleashing a violent storm of arrows down the stairs.

The fanatics roared in anger as their comrades continued to fall off the tower, the terrified screams already haunting them, driving everyone into an even deeper frenzy. The priests wouldn't be sitting ducks for these infidels! The unanimously decided to charge all at once to escape that horrible fate. The sudden chaos caused Mik to draw out his second dagger, an Assassin blade tipped with poison, and for Edgar to toss his worthless, empty Crossbow over the edge of the tower. Edgar smiled, lowering his head and getting ready to attack with his sword as all the priests seemed to explode off the flight of stairs and charge him. Mik jumped in front of him as the first assailant slashed with his weapon, drawing the heat from the King of Figaro and parrying it to the side. Before he had a chance to counterattack, Edgar's bodyguard became locked in mortal combat with another cult member. Both daggers clanged against two attacks, his strength and agility easily outmatching their own. It was his job to protect Edgar, and this time was as good as any to earn his pay.

Each of Mik's swipes struck true, slicing the wrists and throats of the priests with unavoidable speed. He jumped up, latching onto the metal stairway above and kicking his foes in the face. The blood in his veins boiled with adrenaline, making him stronger than he ever thought possible. Looking over, Edgar was swinging his hefty great sword around with skillful ease, knocking away his opponent's weapons or chopping them in half. The priests tried striking when he was building up momentum with the blade, but he was so quick in utilizing the leverage of the massive blade that those foolhardy men found their chests cut open and their blood gushing down the welded floor. He left the first line of victims keeling over in pain and moved onto the next one. This continued to happen at a faster and faster pace, as soon as the current battler was dispatched, another took his place. Things were starting to get ugly . . .

Mik performed a hard uppercut with his dirk as yet another combatant blindly charged him, dragging the knife along the warrior's stomach and chest, spilling his insides onto the floor.

Tired of letting Mik have all the fun, Edgar charged at his enemies with the Falchion raised and swung it low. The mighty saber cut through flesh and bone upon entering the body of his enemy and sent his legs flying over the edge of the railing. Dark-blue blood drained from the cult member's nub and drenched those still climbing the steps below causing some to slip. Edgar swiftly stabbed downwards to silence the disabled mans screams and moved onto the rest of the endless throng of fearless priests.

"I'm out of stars," Shadow told the others as he took out his Stunner. The graceful ninja backed up in defense as the priest's attack finally begun. Some of them had small knives and the others had five foot wooden staffs . . . but it wasn't a problem for Shadow in the heat of battle. He grabbed a staff in a lightning fast maneuver as it came towards his face, spinning down it until he drove the serrated dagger through the attacker's chest. The staff dropped form the man's hands and into Shadow's. He dug it into the ground and vaulted himself forward, jump kicking a priestess in the face. Shadow moved like a fish in water, each movement with purpose and power. His fluidity allowed him to avoid all attacks, redirecting the weak grip of those priests with knives into stabbing one of their own. As they gasped in shock, the shinobi delivered blow after painful blow into their jaws and necks, destroying their tracheas. He used both weapons efficiently in each hand, always landing a solid hit and disabling an attacker. During the latest melee, Edgar and his group had been pushed backwards into each other and were now fighting a complete circle of enemies. Bodies of moaning, fallen flows were everywhere, but the stream of warriors proved to be endless. They managed to create a small gap in their circle for their escape, but there was a small problem . . . it was the railing.

"We're going to have to jump! "Mik yelled over the clang of swords and the bone crunching sound of fists upon faces.

"Are you crazy?" Edgar hastily replied just as he got struck in the face by a staff. He retaliated by using his Bio Blaster. A green wind shot out of the gun towards the stairs and infected anybody that inhaled the thick mist. Cult members in that direction dropped their weapons and put their hands over their mouth trying to not breathe it in, but it was too late. Each of them began to uncontrollably cough and grasp at their throats as their airways became swollen shut. The lethal poison quickly did its work, turning their skin greenish brown as it bubbled through their bloodstream.

"That was my plan all along,"Shadow calmly agreed.

"Shit . . ." with that Edgar threw his gun down and took out the final toy from his bag of tricks. He put on some industrial tinted goggles and unfolded the gun into an intricate system of mirrors that would intensify the flash, "Get ready!" he grinned as the ray charged at the center of the gun. Shadow and Mik shielded their eyes and buried their faces as the trigger was pulled. Edgar waited a few seconds as the fanatics started to swarm, making sure the light would hit everyone, and then performed the devastating attack. A light brighter than the sun itself flashed outward from hundreds of mirrors into the eyes of the priests that had their eyes open. It burned their retinas instantly, causing many to cry out in pain as their optical nerves were seared apart.

"Ahh my eyes!" a priestess exclaimed, crying out in anguish before toppling over the railing.

"I'm blind, I can't see!" one of the charging priests screamed right before running into a harsh wall of the tower and knocking himself unconscious. The affect was the same above and below. Many crouched and grabbed their eyes, and others grasped the railing so they wouldn't fall over the edge. Some in front had fallen on their weapons and were now dying, unable to see. Their attackers were incapacitated for the moment, so Shadow and Mik made their way to the railing as quickly as they could.

"Come on Edgar!" Mik yelled as he put one hand on the railing and reached for the king with the other. Edgar set down his bulky weapon and ran as fast as he could towards the edge. Like a bird that was casually taking flight, Shadow mounted the railing and pushed off the edge. He flew straight out a few feet before gravity took hold and arched his body downward, unafraid of the open breeze of the sky. Soon after he put his arms to his side and went into a full nosedive, gaining as much speed as possible while arrows flew harmlessly past him, unable to match him.

"Ahh, what the hell," Mik followed Shadow's lead as Edgar got to the railing. He cautiously stepped on the railing like a baby bird learning to fly, but hearing Edgar's steps quickly behind him he jumped, "Geronimo!!"

People all around were rubbing their eyes, straining to see. They made out a form in the direction of the railing and stumbled in Edgar's direction. The king of Figaro didn't bother to look back and positioned himself quickly on the slippery metal railing. He leapt over confidently into freedom just as someone grabbed his leg. He had only enough time to twist his body around and see who grabbed him. It was the man that had lost his wife, had his worshippers killed, and his tower defiled. It was the highest priest of Fanatics Tower, Gabe. His enraged face was the last thing Edgar saw before he swung back towards the building and slammed into its side, knocking him unconscious.



Mik turned his body around after he heard the sound of metal bang on something hard and saw Gabe holding Edgar by the feet. Blood dripped from Edgar's forehead, slowly rushing into his hair before dripping downwards. That was all Mik could make out as he passed by the 50th floor, falling extremely fast. He had picked up too much speed since he had first leapt off. The wind roared into his eyes and ears as he fell, numbing his senses. The lack of control Mik in his current situation, Edgar being captured . . . it had seemed that somebody was telling him that fate would decide what would happen, that he was powerless to stop the turn of events. His shoulder-length black hair whipped around his head as he fell even faster towards his the foggy ground thousand of feet below. The sullen bodyguard was traveling faster than any man had gone before, and had just fallen past the 32nd floor. Edgar's former defender was 32 floors away from his death, 32 away from the "Ultimate Beyond". Shadow was no better off as he barely was able to see the black figure below him in the morning light of dawn. Mik looked down in fear to see the earth approaching him with alarmingly speed, but at that moment a great peace came over him.

'Shadow knew we wouldn't make it,' he thought to himself as he looked over at the blur of metal to the right, 'he knew it but he still insisted we jump. Well, it's better off that we suffer a quick death other than a slow painful one through torture. Shadow was thinking of our well being . . . like I should have been doing for Edgar. I am so ashamed of what happened, what will become of the king? I'm his bodyguard, I was sworn to protect him . . . but now . . . I have committed a heinous crime. I must atone for my sin'

His final moments decided, Mik awaited the imminent impact. It would kill him instantly no doubt, at least that is what he hoped for. He didn't want to imagine what could happen if he survived the fall somehow. Fifteen floors to go, the wind suddenly grew louder, almost deafening.

'What the!? That's not wind!' Mik thought as he struggled to focus on the noise.

Out of nowhere the Falcon swooped down out of the parting storm clouds and intercepted the descending escapees. Its massive engines roared as Shadow and Mik both landed on the soft top of the balloon, saving them mere seconds from certain doom. Each breathed a sigh of relief and rolled over till they reached a rope ladder. In a matter of seconds, the Falcon was miles away from the dreaded tower, and the invaders could breathe a sigh of needed relief. As Mik descended down the twisted twine as carefully as he could, he painfully watched as Shadow just jumped down to the deck. Mik let go of the rope and fell the remaining five feet to the deck, his feet slamming hard on the wood and metal planks as Setzer came into view. With a fake, huge smile on his face, Edgar's bodyguard walked over.

"Setzer, you bastard!" Mik yelled appreciatively as he approached the pilot, "God I love you man!"

"That sure was one of my more daring maneuvers," Setzer bragged as he was crushed in a bear hug, "Where's Edgar?"

Mik's expression changed just as quickly as the wind, his head bowed in solemn prayer, "He didn't make the jump, they captured him," it was almost too hard for him to continue, "It's all my fault Setzer! I should have made the last jump after he went over, but . . ." Mik explained, grabbing the gambler/pilot's shoulders hard and shaking them. Shadow glared at Mik disgustingly, he was disappointed at the so-called 'bodyguard' but was at fault as much as Mik was. Not wanting to deal with the new problem, the mysterious fighter quickly went down the stairs to the main hall of the Falcon and out of sight. "Where the heck is he going?" Mik asked, letting Setzer go on his way as he chased the man clad in black gear.

Setzer was afraid as well and sad at the same time at this horrid turn of events. Many would miss Edgar Roni Figaro, the rightful king of Figaro and new leader of the revolutionist group The Returners. But not more so than by his own brother, Sabin. As he turned the wheel in the direction of Narshe, Setzer bowed his head and whispered some words to himself, "You better get through this Edgar, we need you."

Near Narshe

Mik returned to the upper deck after an exhausting search below for Shadow. There were no traces of him in the engine room, main hall, or even in the casino room. He just gave up after a half hour of searching realizing that Shadow probably did not want to be found. When the ninja became like that, it was near impossible to locate him.

There were too many things going on in Mik's life right now to worry about only one thing. He closed his eyes, deep in thought, and let the cool sea breeze caress his sore muscles and broken heart. It was great therapy for him, very calming and soothing for someone that had been through hell and back in less than 24 hours. Mik rarely got to travel on the Falcon, so he wanted to treat it as an experience while it lasted. He walked to the front of the airship so that he would be the first to see Narshe appear over the horizon. He hadn't been home for just about over a year. It would actually be a year next month that he left Narshe in hope of becoming a Returner. His mother and sister would be proud to see the kind of man he had become. They both had moved there shortly after he left, but were keeping in touch through monthly correspondence . . . it had been decades since they last saw each other. They knew nothing of his past, and he would keep it that way.

Mik breathed in the wandering mountain air in anticipation. His nostrils caught a faint scent of coal smoke mixed with the cool mountain air, "We're real close," he nodded towards Setzer. Shadow mysteriously appeared from the lower decks and joined him at the bow of the ship, "Nice of you to join us," Mik said nonchalantly to his friend without looking over. Setzer's black cape fluttered wildly behind his body as he flew the ship closer to the water, as close as the Falcon could. The seawater was stirred up by the Falcon's low altitude, rushing over the bow sporadically and spraying into Mik's face. Using his hand Mik wiped the mist from his face and through his raven colored hair, he didn't mind.

As the water droplets accumulated and dripped from his faceguard, Shadow's eyes closed. "How do you feel about going home?" There was a hint of jealousy in his voice and Mik was about to reply, but as he opened his mouth to speak, the northern sky suddenly glowed red-orange. Fire seemed to rain down in all directions as they were welcomed to a hellish Narshe.