Summary: If there's one thing to cause the champions of Chaos untold grief, it's their access to cyberspace...
Disclaimer: Yeah, I wish I owned it... Maybe then I wouldn't be up to my neck in tuition-debt!
Queen's Quornor: This chapter harkens back to one I wrote for "Evidence of Sephiroth's Humanity" some time ago. I realize that this particular Sephiroth is not the same possessed one from FFVII canon that I know and love, but I do think that a few things would remain unchanged. This would include his habits and vices, or rather whichever ones he would be able to indulge. Hero or villain, I doubt that this one would go away if he had access to a computer, which he does.
Sneak
The Shrine was a fortress without peer in this shattered world. Spells encircled the structure in an insidious tapestry, serving to warn its masters when intruders assaulted the grounds, draining their strength until someone could drive them away. The nine dark champions stalked the dusty corridors, all powerful and capable of horrific atrocities at a moment's notice.
But every fortress, no matter how secure, had a weakness. Regardless of how high and thick the wall or malicious the traps, entry was always possible. A skilled sapper could dig his way inside the courtyard. A window could be left unlocked, or the bars loosened. Perhaps somebody could forget to latch a door.
Zidane sauntered within the shadows cast by the crumbling columns, secure in the knowledge that his nine major worries were sleeping. It was good to be the thief, he reflected with a wide grin. Nobody else could sneak into this dark sanctuary unharmed; Bartz would have been discovered the second he tested that loose stone in the wall, and Squall would have roared in with his gunblade blazing. Zidane felt his smile grow. He was the best.
He simply could not resist a challenge. Bartz was the reason he was inside the Shrine: the two friends had been bragging about their respective abilities, and the mimic had declared himself the superior thief, since he could copy Zidane's skills and improve them. In the ensuing argument, Bartz had promised that if Zidane could steal Ultimecia's thong, he would acknowledge him as the best thief. It was definitely a stupid bet, and even stupider to accept it, but his pride was at stake here. Either he got the thong, or Bartz would never let him live it down.
This place isn't half bad, the thief reflected. It wasn't as twisted and cheerless as Kefka's Tower, and far less cliche than the World of Darkness. The Old Chaos Shrine was a place he wouldn't mind staying in, if he had to. Now where was Ultimecia's room?
He rounded a corner and dashed back into cover, seeing a faint glow illuminating the stone wall opposite a doorway. Somebody was awake.
With his hands curled tightly around the hilts of his daggers, Zidane crept closer to the room. Nobody howled in alarm, so he dared to poke his head inside.
Seated in a wooden chair with his back to him, Sephiroth seemed entranced by a glowing box of some sort. His right hand was curled over something, and every time he flexed his index finger Zidane heard a clicking sound. The supremely dangerous swordsman was oblivious to his presence, he noted with profound relief. He would be dead before he could blink, if Sephiroth realized he was there.
He knew it would be a mistake to stay, yet the glowing box intrigued him. As curious as he had ever been, the thief scampered silently up the wall to cling to the ceiling, twisting his head to watch the other man.
"Two minutes," Sephiroth murmured. The box was showing a picture of some books, the topmost one being titled Three Kingdoms with a picture of misty mountains and stylized men dueling on extremely pudgy horses. A tiny arrowhead hovered atop an orange rectangle with the words "Bid" in bold letters, and above it was another rectangle full of numbers. It appeared to be an auction of some kind, and Sephiroth was going to bid two thousand gil on those books. Zidane frowned; if it was an auction, where were the other people?
He listened to Sephiroth's breathing accelerate, and wondered if the other man wasn't getting a bit too excited about this bid.
"You are mine!" the silver-haired swordsman crowed (if a subdued laugh could be considered crowing) and clicked his finger hard. Zidane dug his fingers even more into the tiny fissures that kept him on the ceiling, praying that Sephiroth wouldn't look up. The box flashed, prominently displaying the word "Winner!" repeatedly, and after some more clicking and picture changes Sephiroth found another set of books. "Loveless?" he questioned. "The name seems familiar, but I don't believe I'm interested." The arrowhead descended, and the book picture was replaced by a white backdrop with a list of numbers.
"I haven't spent that much gil!" Sephiroth growled, hunching his shoulders to bring his face closer to the illuminated side of the box. "How could I have so little in my account?"
What was he talking about? Zidane craned his neck, trying to read the words partially obscured by molten silver hair, and as he shifted his fingers for a better grip, a tiny fragment of stone slipped from the ceiling. The thief cringed as it fell, and almost lost his grip as cold metal rested alongside his neck. Sephiroth was standing now, his face smooth and his lips twisted into a cold frown. When had he moved? Zidane wondered, dazedly staring into glittering peridot eyes.
"What are you doing here, little thief?" the silken voice hissed, sending goosebumps dancing over his body. Zidane felt his tail bristle in alarm.
"I'm here to steal something." He spoke the words before he considered the consequences, and Zidane thought for sure that he was about to become a shish kabob. Sephiroth did not assuage his fears by sliding Masamune's blade along his neck, the razored tip scraping softly against his skin.
"What are you trying to steal?"
"Ultimecia's thong." As soon as it spilled out, Zidane wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor. If he got out of this alive, he was going to kill Bartz.
"You want to steal...Ultimecia's thong?" Sephiroth repeated slowly. To Zidane's astonishment, the silver-haired man's lips twitched. "Are you certain that you are not mistaking her name for Kuja's?"
The thief stared. Did he just make a joke?
"Tell me why you want to steal her underwear," Sephiroth commanded, smirking with an unmistakable twinkle in his eyes.
Zidane swallowed, even more aware of how absurd and juvenile this bet really was. "To prove to Bartz that I am the greatest thief in the world."
There was a snort, and Masamune was taken away. Zidane continued to cling to the ceiling, too scared and confused to slacken his grip. Sephiroth returned to the box and bent down, then straightened with a small chest in hand. This was opened, allowing Zidane a glimpse of various articles and accessories he had repeatedly observed adorning Sephiroth's peers. The Emperor's crown, Jecht's headband, a pair of Kuja's knee-socks... "Here we are." Sephiroth plucked a scrap of bright red silk from the chest, and it dangled limply from his thumb and forefinger as he offered it to the thief.
"What are you --"
"I have to get an income from somewhere." The silver-haired man shrugged. "They never miss these things, and I never get much from her underwear anyway. You may take these."
Zidane dropped and carefully reached for the thong, concerned by the other man's easy stance. He snatched it out of Sephiroth's hand and held it close as he ran to the opposite wall. He knew he was still within range of the man's sword, but at least Sephiroth couldn't simply reach out and grab him. "You'd just give this to me, out of the goodness of your heart?" he couldn't resist asking, albeit sarcastically.
Sephiroth replied with a real grin and a burst of laughter. "Do not mistake me for one of your naive comrades," he clarified. "It serves me no purpose to kill you. Leave and claim your laurels; I am not the one assigned to your destruction."
The thief kept his eyes on him as he edged along the wall, unwilling to turn his back on the dangerous man. "Thanks. You know, for not killing me and all."
The silver-haired swordman shrugged and returned to his seat. "Just keep one thing in mind."
"What?"
"Master thieves generally don't get caught."
"So he really just gave you the thong?"
"Yep. I thought I was dead meat, but he never even tried to fight me." Zidane looked up from his perch on the edge of the moonlit ledge, cerulean eyes glazed as he tried to fathom what Sephiroth had meant by his death serving no purpose to him personally. Weren't all of Chaos' guys out for their blood, no matter who said blood came from? It made no real sense.
Bartz sat beside him, stretching the thong between his hands. He was wearing a boyish smile that broadcast his current maturity level, too absorbed in the skimpy panties to notice his friend's distraction. "Guess he's a nicer guy than we thought he was. I always figured he'd be one to slash first and ask questions later."
"I don't know if it was kindness. Sounded more like he doesn't want me dead yet, or someone else is supposed to try and kill me." Zidane shrugged his misgivings away and turned a roguish grin upon his friend. "So anyway, I got Ultimecia's thong. Don't you have something to say to me?"
Bartz leaned back and shot the thong at the moon hanging overhead. "Sounds like you were given that thong, and didn't steal it. So I don't have to say anything."
Zidane glared at him, feeling his tail beginning to lash behind him. "Hey, I snuck into Chaos' stronghold! Even if I didn't steal the thong, getting into the Shrine should be more than enough to prove that I am the superior thief!"
"You wish, buddy." The thong landed in Bartz's lap, and he tossed them at the younger man. "You may be a great sneak, but you didn't steal a thing. No title for you."
Zidane threw the thong as far as he could, turning his glare on the silken scrap as it fell inside a crater. Bartz laid back on the stone for a quick nap, leaving his friend to stew over the earlier events. While he was busy muttering about his abilities as a thief and Bartz's sudden love of technicalities, he remembered something.
"What was that box, anyway?"