"Elegy"
Chapter Nine
"The End of Peace"
(9 days after Elise Galloway's succession)
(The round table. A duel.)
Brea felt comfortable being atop the rebuilt Monument of Triumph. Wrapped in her coat, shrouded in shadows and seeing the world through the scope of a sniper rifle, she knew that she was concealed from those below, but still there. The spotlights illuminating the ornate carvings running through the stone structure draped its top, and Brea, in darkness. The rifle itself was covered with black, non reflective composite paint.
The crosshair moved through the crowd, zig-zagging through dignitaries, state officials and soldiers alike. Brea didn't like that the ceremonial aspect of the procedure always took place in open spaces; and always on the continent that had already signed. This meant quite a few soldiers from Esthar below, encased in their combat armor, a parade of blues, turquoise and purples.
The staging area was a classical set-up: right between the two monuments adorning the city's entrance, there was a slightly elevated dais, atop which a round table was placed. The white tablecloth draped over it emphasized the golden name plaques encircling it. The cameras of news outlets that were roaming the crowd would be turned upon it once the actual ceremony began. For now, though, everyone was scattered all around the available space; some were enjoying food and drinks passed around by waiters and waitresses clad in black, others were holding small talk.
Brea's crosshair found Squall. He was standing in the open, on the fringes of the crowd in his ceremonial uniform, clad in pure white and with Selphie's arm coiled around his, surveying the scene. She shifted her focus slightly and found Quistis, presently in one of her hushed arguments with Seifer.
Brea expected a buzzing in her air the second Quistis' hand went to her ear.
"Do you have Elise?" Quistis asked.
"Your six, other side of the staging ground."
"Keep an eye on her. Did you bring something?"
"I have two diluted Odineum shots just in case, sir."
"Good. Quistis out."
Selphie liked this aspect of their work, and knew that Squall didn't. Then again, having to put up with a bunch of strangers and making small talk wasn't his thing. Neither was it hers, but she enjoyed the feeling of being grounded, among others that... oh, who was she kidding, the reverences, the sickly-sweet pang of begrudging respect, the courtesies and carefully-worded compliments were all wonderfully bitter, like the disappointing aftertaste of a perfect moment.
Squall tensed up under her touch.
"Oh, relax." She said, "She's not gonna try anything here."
Squall didn't respond. Selphie rolled her eyes. Typical.
"No. It's not going to be Rinoa all over again." She said, "Not this time."
"It's not that."
"Oh, this is gonna be good."
"With my father gone, I... I don't know. He was born a Delingite, but I was born in Winhill. I don't know what that makes me."
"A handsome rogue with no home?"
"...but after the war, he made Esthar his home. Almost as if he were Estharian himself."
"I get it." Selphie said, caressing his wrist, "Wow. I think I should get an award or something for this, because I know what's on your mind."
Squall looked at her and saw her smile, her eyes bright. How long had it been, he wondered, since she had found him on that balcony?
"So, tell me." he said, smiling, "What's on my mind?"
"You thought Esthar as your home, because your father was there. Now Elise moved in. It bothers you that she's there."
"...among other things."
"We're gonna get to that part, believe you me. Nobody messes with Sir Laguna's legacy. Nobody."
"Okay, now I'm scared."
"You better be, 'cause as soon as this is over, I-"
"Showtime." Quistis' voice buzzed in their ears.
Selphie looked around and saw Elise making her way through the crowd, shadowed closely by Mir. She set off a chain reaction. Anyone who was on the top tier of anything abandoned whatever they were doing to follow suit, to get the front row.
"We're moving into position. Stay on us." Quistis said.
Movement alerted Brea. She glanced up from the scope, to the other side of the square and to the top of the second monument. It was almost unnoticeable, barely a flicker, but Brea caught it. She brought her rifle to bear and peered through the scope.
Her eyes widened when her crosshair scanned a black combat armor, noticeable due to its thin, dark orange accents.
"Sir." She said into the comm-link, "There's a second sniper."
Brea tried to see the other sniper's rifle. From the looks of it, it was the same as her own – military issue, stealth model A16. Bolt-action, five-shot clip.
"Repeat." Quistis said.
"There is a second sniper on the Monument to Galbadia."
"Affiliation?"
"Estharian. Stealth armor."
"...that wasn't in their security inventory."
"Your orders?"
"Stay on the sniper. If he puts his finger to the trigger, take him out."
"Sir, I can't watch both you and him."
"We'll be at the table. I'll tell Squall to keep an eye out."
"Yes, sir."
The Galbadian President cut an impressive figure as he moved through the crowd, followed on his left by his Field Marshal. Broad-shouldered, tall and strong, clad in a navy blue, double-breasted suit, he walked unimpeded. His angular face was complimented by his whitening, slicked-back hair and he carried himself well. Brea couldn't help but feel a bit relieved as he stepped onto the dais; especially given that it was his face that was directly in her line of sight. She didn't think she wouldn't be tempted not to load up one of her special bullets and pull it if it were Elise.
Jacen Onesson and his Field Marshal, Ira Raele, sat down; at the same time, with their backs turned to Brea's scope, Mir and Elise took their seats, across the table from them. The head of the table, the seat to Brea's left was reserved for Quistis. Squall would be sitting opposite from her. Selphie had the misfortune of sitting next to Elise, while Seifer took the seat next to Jacen.
Brea slid her finger into the trigger guard, but slackened it. She turned the scope to the second sniper, just for a second, just to be sure.
The other had done the same thing, she saw.
Quistis straightened her uniform as she stepped to the table, cane clacking once on the dais, as if to emphasize. She held the microphone assigned to her. She had memorized the little speech she would be expected to give, which was, she felt, more to the benefit of those assembled than anything else. But still.
"Twenty-three years ago, Ocean Garden bound the two nations of Galbadia and Esthar together. The Tripartite Treaties ensured safety, security," she ignored the snide smirk on Elise's face, ", and peace. It was established in the very first document that one month after the President of either nation is changed by popular election, the said Presidents must meet with their counterparts, on their soil, to renew the agreements. This will be fifth time such an event has taken place: a testament to the strength of the treaties themselves."
On cue, soldiers of both nations stepped forward and placed the lengthy documents in front of each president, as well as Squall and Quistis.
"Once the presidents and the Ocean Garden Grand Master lends us their pens, I will officiate the renewal; and may we do so again."
The passing of pens followed. Squall signed his copy without missing a beat. Selphie shot him a glare, urging him to play nice. However, Jacen also signed, knowing that his signature here was a formality. Thunderous applause followed.
Quistis glanced at Elise, whose pen was hovering above the page. Quistis clenched her teeth.
Don't make a fucking spectacle of this – you won't help yourself by throwing a tantrum here...
Elise straightened up and threw her shoulders back, as if to try and make herself look bigger in order to match Jacen's posture.
Brea's first instinct was to turn her rifle towards the second sniper; her trigger finger flexed and curled around the trigger instantly. Through the scope and in the crosshair, Brea saw the second sniper's trigger finger curl around the curve of the trigger. The Estharian sniper held his rifle tight, and then lifted up his head to make eye-contact with Brea.
One finger clicked on her comm-link.
"Secure Elise!"
Brea aimed at his head and pulled, and as the compressed air inside the barrel released, the gunshot exploded in the night – but her ears, honed after years of combat, heard the impossible: two gunshots echoing as one, in perfect sync. Her shot found purchase, she saw the sniper's body shake and go limp. The rifle was left to dangle from his finger, which was stuck between the back of the trigger and the stock of the rifle.
Brea pocketed the Odenium bullets and turned her scope to the panic below.
"Secure Elise!"
Selphie didn't think, she acted. She pulled her legs out from under the table and gave Elise a solid kick on the side with both feet. Elise shifted, and not a second later, a gunshot boomed above them; Selphie felt Elise's chair shake as the high-caliber bullet tore right through it. Selphie felt the projectile's passing on her leg.
That was all it took for the thick crowd encircling the dais to melt into a shrieking mess of mass panic.
Squall and Seifer stood up at the same time. Seifer grabbed hold of Jacen and Ira's collars and dragged them to their feet. Selphie grabbed Elise by the arm and helped her up, ignored her curses, and Squall stepped onto the table to get a better view.
Around them, the esteemed guests that, until just a minute ago, were simply content to be part of the occasion were scattering like bugs; a swarm of evening wear darting in every direction, through and around the soldiers trying to be heard, by each other as well as by them.
Quistis had one hand on her comm-link.
"Brea, report! What's the status of the shooter!?
"Dead, sir! I'm scanning the crowd to see if there's-"
Quistis saw the muzzle flash from atop the Monument to Galbadia. A second shot went off, this time from Brea's side.
Squall looked to his left to see that Selphie and Mir had taken Elise by both arms and were shoving and elbowing their way through the crowd. They were more than halfway out of the square. To his right, Seifer was being shouted at by Jacen and Ira. Right in front of her, Quistis was shouting into her comm-link.
Squall saw the cameras turning to him out of the corner of his eye. He clicked his comm-link and skipped through the channels.
"Squad Theta, come in!"
"We see it, sir!"
Another shot from the second sniper. Squall saw Quistis flinch.
"We're just about t-"
The second sniper's fifth shot took down the other end of the line.
The bullet tore through Brea's shoulder and the exit wound exploded with pain; Brea felt as if she had been hit in the chest by a speeding truck, stumbled, but managed to keep from the edge. Her supporting arm slackened immediately, and as Brea dropped on one knee, she felt the natural reflex to support to heavy rifle with one hand bend her wrist downwards.
The barrel hit the stone surface with a loud clack. Teeth clenched, vision swimming between blurry and clear, Brea looked on ahead to see her opponent in this duel eject a clip from his rifle. She knew she had one bullet in the chamber, the last in her first clip, but with one arm out of commission and the pain insistently clawing at her senses, she couldn't shoot in that position.
Brea dropped to both knees and then kicked her legs back. Her shoulder flared up, the wound protesting this new position and bleeding profusely, but she clenched her teeth and allowed a scream as she brought her rifle to bear, balancing it on its legs. She pressed her cheek onto the stock.
The crosshairs found the cyborg as it inserted the clip. Brea strained to focus, tried to drown out her body screaming at her to stop. Her finger found the trigger.
Brea aimed a little lower than she would, at the cyborg's throat. With the state that she was in, the kickback could fuck up the shot, she knew, and if she missed, there would be nothing to protect her.
Focus, you piece of shit, Brea shouted at herself, breathe in... breathe out... forget the wound, and breathe!
The cyborg racked the bolt back and drove a bullet into the barrel.
Breathe in...
The cyborg took aim.
Brea fired. The stock rammed into her good shoulder as the rifle shook. Through the scope, she saw the bullet tear right through the cyborg's jaw, burrowing its way through his skull and finally, exiting the back of its head with a dark spray of blood and chunks armor.
The cyborg's rifle went off as it went down.
Brea squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the inevitable. She felt the bullet as it dove into her hair, harmlessly plucking a few strands and burning the shallowest of trails across her scalp before disappearing harmlessly.
Elise's hovercraft was landed near the square, to an impromptu parking lot arranged on both sides of what had come to be known as the Leonhart Avenue. Selphie let Mir lead them to the hovercraft and gently let go of Elise as Mir knocked on the windshield to wake the pilot up.
Selphie clicked her comm-link.
"Squall, come in."
"I'm with Squad Theta. Oli is down. There's a torrent of guests coming your way, I suggest you get out, and get back here."
"Be right there, darling."
The hovercraft's hatch opened with a hiss and the groaning of hydraulics. Mir practically shoved Elise in. Before Selphie could get a word in, he followed suit and the hatch closed.
Selphie sighed, turned and began to ran towards the torrent of guests pouring into the avenue, desperate to reach their cars.
Quistis held Oli's head, her hand on the back of his neck, as his blood slowly spread on the pavement below, clinging to the knees of her white uniform. Squad Theta had already scattered in a mad rush to get to the top, to scale the Monument to Galbadia to find the culprit. Oli's body was shaking, twitching, trying to remain. His fingers had slipped in between the buttons of her jacket, and he was holding on for dear life... all in vain. The Curaga spells Quistis had weren't doing anything – they were field dressing, palliative measures that could do very little for a punctured lung and nicked artery, and as Oli choked and gurgled in the blood that was filling up his lungs, Quistis felt helpless... absolutely helpless to do anything.
"It's okay..." she kept telling him, as it was the only thing she could think of, "...it'll all be okay."
Squall, standing a few steps away, cold and lonely, knew that she was lying.
Brea opened her eyes to the blind panic of knowing she had just passed out. She blinked rapidly, her heart pounding in her temples. She couldn't hold back a groan from escaping her lips as the wound made itself known – her every movement shifted the fibers of her clothes, eager to stick into the hole.
Brea pulled the rifle closer and peered through the scope. The second sniper was dead. She saw the first shot she had landed; it had broken through the exterior, but had been stopped by the metal interior of the helmet. A second layer that, lucky for her, hadn't covered the jaw.
Brea sighed, relieved. She twisted her arm around, right hand reaching for her left ear, and found her comm-link.
"This is Brea." She managed, "Come in."
"Brea?" Squall's voice buzzed in, "Sitrep. Now."
"The sniper's down, I..." she managed to get on all fours, with her left arm still slack, burning with agony with every movement, "...I'll be down, just..." she clenched her teeth. This wasn't going to be pretty. With some difficulty, she managed to push the ground and stand up. She opened her legs wide to balance herself, "...what happened down there?"
"The end of peace. You said the sniper was Estharian, didn't you?"
Brea bent over, sweating profusely, and picked her rifle up by the barrel. She began walking to the hatch, trying to swallow down the bad taste in her mouth.
"Yes. The body is still up there, if we can find out who was in-"
A sound alerted her: it resembled a set of firecrackers going off, only muffled. She saw the small flares erupting from within the sniper's body, shaking it. It only lasted for a few seconds. When it stopped, all that was left was smoke pouring out of every available opening.
"What the fuck was-"
Seifer was one step away from crossing the Monument of Triumph when the door to his side was kicked open and Brea came stumbling out. Seifer saw the bullet hole first, Brea's pale complexion and sweat-drenched hair second. He went to her side and took the rifle from her hands. He offered his arm, and she took it, muttering a word or two of gratitude. Seifer wished, as he often had, that she would just drop the "sir" already – it felt like helping his little sister walk, to him.
The scene they returned to was the calm after the storm: two hovercrafts, the one they had used and Squad Theta's own were there, and the SeeDs were in the process of loading a body bag onto the second one. Quistis, the knees and sleeves of her uniform stained with red, was watching them, arms crossed, her cane hanging from her elbow. Squall, with his hands in his pants' pockets, was waiting for Quistis by the hatch of the other hovercraft. Selphie was sitting on the hatch, her hands cradling her cheeks.
Upon seeing Seifer and Brea, Selphie got up and rushed to their side.
"Brea!"
She took the rifle, and Brea's arm from Seifer, who went over to Quistis.
"I'm fine, sir." Brea managed, feeling Selphie's eyes on her, "He didn't hit anything vital."
"You're not fine, you're bleeding! Come here. Sit down."
Selphie sat Brea down on the single step embedded into the hovercraft's hatch, careful to keep the hem of her coat up as she did. Selphie then peeled off her coat and jacket. Her slender fingers gently touched the outer rim of the entry wound, eliciting a clenched-teeth hiss from Brea.
"Curaga." Selphie said. The bright blue glow that emanated from her hands eased the pain a little, stemmed the bleeding somewhat. But already she could see torn sinews pulling at others, the wound aching to reform. It'd hold, but only for a while. Brea dug into her coat pocket and pulled out her pack. She saw that it was partially crushed in the scuffle, but there was one good cigarette left.
The hovercraft carrying Squad Theta took flight with its engines whirring as it rose into the air.
Seifer crouched next to the dead cyborg's body. It was lying on its stomach, limbs stretched out, exactly as Squad Theta had left it.
There was a separate plate sticking out, by maybe half an inch, from the back of the armor. Etched into it, painted dark orange like the rest of the accents was:
FC102034
43/50
"Hey!" he called out for the rest, "What do you think this means?"
Squall and Quistis came over and stood on either side of him. Selphie just took a look from where she was trying to tie the pilot's tie around Brea's wound.
"Serial number, number of the soldier from last name in descending order, number of total soldiers in squad." Squall said.
"I know that already." Seifer replied, "But something's off. The fifty strong part, especially. When did they make half-batallions?"
"The serial number is also wrong." Quistis said, leaning forward, "The number of digits is right, but there shouldn't be any letters. Not even black ops armor has them."
"Get the plate." Squall said, "I'll have Darina look into it."
"Darina? The library girl?" Seifer asked, "At this time of night?"
"She likes puzzles. She was the one who found the Leonhart Archive on her own."
"Guys!" Selphie called out, "Don't wanna break up the contemplation party, but we gotta get Brea to the Infirmary."
"It's okay." Brea managed, smoking her second cigarette.
"No." Selphie told her, "It's not. It's bad enough that you took a bullet for her. I'm not gonna watch you grit your teeth and play the good soldier. Finish smoking that shit, and let's go. Understood?"
Brea looked at her, and saw nothing but pleading resolve in her eyes.
"Yes, sir." She said.