10
CHAPTER 10 – SUCCESSION OF WITCHES
The trek to the city's downtown district had been a long and twisting journey rife with detours and deviations. Watts had led them on for the better part of an hour through winding back alleys and sparsely frequented side streets, tracing the route the SeeDs had taken upon their arrival back towards Timber's main hub. The bustle of the morning commute was in full effect, which coupled with the increased guard presence on the streets in preparation for Deling's arrival had brought traffic to a virtual standstill. Car horns blared and motors revved impatiently from beyond the network of narrow passages the group traversed, a cacophonous concerto set against the backdrop of the quaint, old-world architecture they slunk between. Soon enough, the rapid whipping of helicopter rotors entered the arrangement from afar, drawing nearer rapidly and prompting Squall to raise his eyes to the morning skies above.
"There he goes!" Rinoa moaned over the whir of the blades as a sleek black chopper passed overhead, momentarily blotting out the sun's glare upon them as it moved due east. "We've got to get moving!"
"Sorry, miss!" Watts apologized profusely, picking up the pace once more. "It's hard to make consistent headway with so many patrols out and about."
I'd bet our hijacking attempt didn't help with that.
Squall and Selphie both bore their gunblade and nunchaku respectively, the latter taking great pains to conceal the large red flail beneath the back of her yellow outfit. The former of the two possessed no such luxury, left only to hope that the solid black sheath would help the sword to better blend in with the sum of his dark attire. He had initially considered bringing along his duffel-bag by which to carry both weapons, only to realize the sort of attention a man heading in the direction of the TV station lugging around an unmarked bag would garner. Regardless, the twisting and turning route Watts guided them along had rendered such deliberation a moot point thus far. The irregularity with which they had run across the path of a patrol was laudable, save for a significant guard presence amassed in the station square outside the Timber-Balamb line, seemingly in the process of investigating an incident of some sort. It was to the point where Squall, much to his own surprise, genuinely found himself warming to the over-eager young man, who had at long last proven himself useful in some capacity. Irritating though he was, he knew the city streets inside and out for a fact.
The group at last drew to the end of an alley running along the back left-hand side of what appeared to be a large pub, taking cover behind a set of rusted and discarded steel barrels as they peered out into the large circular plaza ahead. To Squall's left side loomed the towering hexagonal figure of the TV station, its modernized steel exterior a clear discrepancy from the antiquated architectural norm which accounted for most of the rest of the city. Its color pallet was a sleek, gleaming blue and gold, not dissimilar from Balamb Garden's own, the multi-tiered building stretching up far above the meager domiciles and establishments which surrounded it. A small platoon of troops armed with rifles stood at attention before the large glass-paned entrance on the ground level, while upon the apex rested the crest of Timber, an elegant cursive T with a perfectly circular wooden wheel jutting into its right side. A massive television monitor was situated further below, the screen active and currently displaying little more than a mishmash of static interference and what appeared to be random alpha-numeric characters, as continual white noise spewed forth from the large dual speakers to either side.
"That's… kinda creepy," Rinoa muttered as she stared up at the swirling hodgepodge. "What the heck causes this, anyway?"
"No one really knows for sure," Zell told her. "Supposedly, it just started up out of nowhere one day, seventeen years ago, and hasn't stopped since. There is a theory, though… that maybe Esthar was testing some kind of advanced Electromagnetic Interference bomb that went haywire."
"You're talking about that huge crater up near the Vienne mountains, right?" Selphie jumped in unexpectedly. "My class at Trabia went on a field expedition out there a few years back. It's a total wasteland for miles in every direction, and swarming with monsters. There's literally no way to cross into Esthar from it."
"And unless they someday decide to re-open their borders, we're never going to get a straight answer," Zell confirmed. "Still, whatever it was, it must have been one hell of a weapon to make a blast that big. Really makes you wonder what's been going on over there."
Or why the conflict stopped in the first place.
"Let's keep our focus on the mission," Rinoa reminded the two. "So, how're we getting in?"
You're asking us? What was that chatting in a circle on the floor for?
"Looks pretty tightly guarded, miss," Watts addressed her. "There's no way we'll be able to just storm in through the front like this. I'll circle around and check the rear."
At once, the young man turned tail and worked his way back along the alley's length, cutting a sharp turn down an adjoining intersection and disappearing from sight.
"We really can't just rush in, huh?" she sighed in disappointment, turning to face the three SeeDs. "I guess… we just wait? Maybe once Deling finishes, the guards'll leave with him, and then we can get in there and do our broadcast. It might not make as big an impact, but it's better than nothing, right? I mean, there's no way we'd stand a chance if we took 'em head on, right?"
Who is this 'we'?
Be it from the fore or aft, Squall recognized there was no possibility whatsoever that they would be able to sneak inside undetected with the president about to take the stage. Beyond the platoon positioned at the entrance, there were sure to be far more security forces lying in wait within the walls of the station itself. Even with the power of their Guardian Forces to fall back on, they would be severely outnumbered on all sides in a cramped indoor office environment, a disadvantage that would only be further exacerbated by having to provide protection for Rinoa. Deling would surely be evacuated long before they could manage to fight their way into the broadcasting studio, provided the miraculous stroke of fortune they would require to even get that far. Most worrying of all however, was the fact that the Owls' naive princess seemed to have no discernible plan of action, as if she had simply assumed that the presence of the three of them alone would magically make everything fall into place. Even the train hijacking plot, while doomed to fail from the very start, appeared to have had at least some semblance of planning put into it. A mercenary's role was to execute the orders given by his employer as instructed, but in the face of such gross incompetence, Squall's tolerance was rapidly reaching a boiling point.
"We'll fight your enemies based on your decision," Squall affirmed irritably, turning his gaze away in frustration. "You tell us to go, we go, even if it is a losing battle. That's our duty, after all."
"Well, doesn't that sound like a winning attitude," Rinoa huffed, placing her hands on her hips. "It's your 'duty'? What an easy life it must be to just follow orders blindly, and never take a stand for something bigger than yourself."
"Call it what you want, but it doesn't change the facts. You hired SeeD, and we were sent to assist you with your mission. That's it. And frankly, I'm starting to wonder if there's any hope for your cause at all."
"Excuse me!?" Rinoa gasped at the remark, her eyes widened in shock.
"Squall!" Selphie reeled, rushing over to his side and tugging the sleeve of jacket heatedly. "That was so uncalled for!"
"If you have something to say, then just say it!" Rinoa demanded, her duster sweater whipping as she swiped her right arm before her in anger.
"Just forget it," Squall bluntly disengaged, abruptly jerking his own arm away from Selphie's prying grasp. "It's none of your business."
"You started it. The least you can do is finish it. Tell me. This is an order… an order from your client!"
"This is an order from your captain, Squall," Seifer snarled in self-righteousness. "Now do as you're told!"
As his arch-rival's biting command echoed in his mind, it all at once suddenly made sense. When he had first learned of their relationship, Squall had been unable to comprehend what could have drawn these two seemingly diametrically opposed personalities together. Gradually, he had begun to take notice of the underlying similarities in their stubborn demeanor and apparent delusions of grandeur, but had yet to uncover the linchpin which held everything in place, until that very moment. They were both prone to unbridled arrogance at the very whiff of power, and possessed no qualms in using it to boss their subordinates around as they saw fit. Upon closer examination, it was in fact little surprise at all. They were practically perfect for one another, and together embodied everything Squall despised to his very core.
"Alright then," he grumbled irately, staring daggers into her fierce brown eyes. "Let me just ask this: how serious are you? Really? For a group with such big ambitions, it definitely doesn't show in your work ethic. That idiot you call a leader is a spineless coward, your informant doesn't even bother to check where he's getting his information from, and your plans are some of the most slapdash and poorly considered I've ever seen. The three of you plop down on the floor to discuss strategy and call it a 'meeting', and on top of it all, you can't seem to make a decision on your own without asking for our input. How do you think it feels for us, to be working for an organization like this? We're laying down our lives to assist you, and here you are treating this like it's all a game!"
"Holy crap, Squall," Zell broke in, leaping to his side. "Calm down, man. You're getting way too heated."
Squall turned his head away from the awestruck young woman to meet Zell's face, the expression he wore pleading with him to be civil. To his side, Selphie stood in utter shock at his loss of composure.
"Don't start acting all innocent," he replied defiantly. "You two have been thinking the same thing the whole time. I'm just the one who finally decided to say something about it."
"So, tell me this," Rinoa finally spoke again, an audible tremor in her voice as she fought to get every word out. "Is being a cold-hearted, emotionless drone another one of those 'various skills' SeeDs have to learn? Because if that's the case, then I'm glad Seifer didn't make the cut."
"Wait," Zell started, clearly puzzled. "How do you know Sei-"
"As a matter of fact, it is," Squall abruptly cut him off. "It's called 'discipline', and like it or not it's something every soldier worth their merit needs to internalize."
A hush fell over the dank alleyway the four stood in, with nary a sound to break the deafening silence save for the omnipresent static still emanating from the adjoining plaza. Rinoa stood idly opposite the three, taken aback by his biting words, her gaze trained to the cobbled pavement below.
"'Discipline'…" she monotonously echoed. "That sounds just like…"
She trailed off, seeming lost in reflection for a moment before she raised her head up once again to meet Squall's stare, her face contorted in disgust.
"You know, maybe this was all just a big mistake," she sulked in frustration. "I thought everything would work out fine once we hired SeeD, that maybe we'd be able to finally make a difference to the people of this city, and show them hope for a brighter future. But, it looks like it's not that simple. I guess it really doesn't matter what army you serve, in the end it just comes down to following orders, all the same. It's not like you're one of us. I'm gonna go catch up with Watts, tell him we're calling everything off, and return to our base. Take your time coming back."
Rinoa shoved her way past the three SeeDs, Squall sidestepping to the back wall of the neighboring pub as she passed by and started towards the intersecting alleyway their informant had taken. She stopped abruptly upon reaching the crossing, and turned back to face them, her eyes now puffy and strained as she fought to hold back tears.
"You think this is all a game to us?" her voice quavered. "Well, it's not! Zone and Watts' dads started the Forest Owls when Galbadia invaded, and were publicly executed to set an example for the rest of the resistance factions after they were all driven underground. They've dedicated their entire lives to honor the sacrifices they made, for the dream they believed in until the very end! And as for me… well, I've got my own reasons for fighting, and I'll do whatever it takes to bring Galbadia down. So don't you dare talk down to me, and try to say we're not serious. We are! We're so serious, it hurts..."
With not a word more, she bolted down the path and out of sight, leaving the three standing by themselves with their backs to the TV station plaza. Squall turned his head away with indifference, to find Selphie's fierce green eyes boring holes in his very figure.
"Well, aren't you just a charmer!" she chastised him. "I hope you're real proud of yourself."
"It needed to be said," he defended himself. "Her lack of foresight and planning was liable to get us all killed. It already nearly did this morning."
"There are nicer ways to put it, though! You almost made her cry!"
"I… didn't realize those guys had it so rough," Zell interjected, mumbling to no one in particular as he propped himself against the stone wall and stared at his red sneakers. "I never knew my dad, but I think I can kinda understand what they must have gone through. My grandpa passed a few years back, and I remember taking it really hard. He was always the guy I looked up to the most, the one who inspired me to give it my all and be the best I could be. He played a big role in the war before I was born, and always stood up for what he believed in. It was really sad, but he was getting up there in age, so it wasn't a huge surprise. But… having your dad just ripped away from you like that when you're a kid… I wouldn't wish that on anyone."
"You're telling me," Selphie agreed with a dour look, and joined him by the wall.
Squall strode in the opposite direction to the end of the alley, and turned his gaze back to the swirling interference-laden display high above, taking care to keep his figure hidden from the eyes of the guards outside the station. Regardless of the respective personal tragedies the Owls membership may have faced in their youths, it was no excuse for such sloppiness and unprofessionalism. If anything, it was a gross disservice to the cause their fathers had given their lives for. Squall had no family of his own, and had likewise grown up without any role model to inspire confidence in him or instill valuable life-lessons. And yet, in defiance of his unfortunate and lonesome upbringing, he had taken every step possible to achieve competence and self-reliance, so as to ensure he would never be rendered dependent of another's goodwill again. The past meant nothing to him now, and his only desire was to forget what little still lingered in the confines of his mind.
"I WILL NEVER LET YOU FORGET ABOUT ME."
Squall blinked his eyes in confusion, rapidly re-focusing them on the giant television monitor. He could have sworn he had just seen those very words flash before him, only to disappear into the sea of static as quickly as they had appeared. Moments later, the blurred lines began to dissipate, clearing the screen to slowly reveal the image of a speaking podium, adorned with no less than five microphones atop, and the gear-shaped crest of Galbadia set on the front. Two black flags bearing the same insignia stood pointed inwards on either side against the red and gold backdrop of the curtains to its rear. A middle-aged, blonde-headed announcer dressed in a flashy pinstripe suit stood behind the regal lectern, organizing a set of papers and placing them on its frame.
"Hello?" the emcee announced himself cheerily, the lingering traces of static distorting his voice slightly. "Hello? People of the world? Can you hear me? Can you see me?"
"It's finally starting?" Zell spoke up as he and Selphie ambled back over to Squall's position and crouched beside him. "Wonder what this is really all about."
"Oh, this is just incredible!" the announcer proclaimed, the image continually flickering between grainy and clear at regular intervals. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is not a recording, but an actual live broadcast over the air! The first of its kind in seventeen years, no less! What a truly monumental occasion it is! We are coming to you live from Timber, with an important message to the world from life-long Galbadian President Vinzer Deling! And so, without further ado, let us hear from the man of the hour himself. Ladies and gentlemen of the world, President Deling!"
The giddy speaker quickly vacated the podium, as yet another middle-aged, dark-suited man strode onto the sound stage from the right to take his place. The stern, wrinkled face and greying head of hair were precisely as those of the demonic impostor aboard the train earlier that morning. His expensive black suit and white undershirt were accompanied by a solid blue necktie, cutting as sharp a figure as could be on what was otherwise a clearly quite portly man. He slowly strode up to the series of microphones, adjusted his collar, and began to speak.
"Greetings to you all," Deling began. "Be you in Galbadia or Timber, Dollet or Balamb, Trabia or even Esthar, this broadcast is being streamed across the globe on every common frequency in operation. I am Vinzer Deling, life-long president of Galbadia, and today I am here to make a humble proposition to the leaders of the world and their people. A call for unity and understanding, so that we may end all needless conflict and wars, for the purpose of existing together as one collective world body."
"No way," Zell incredulously dismissed the notion. "A peace proposal?"
"Man," Selphie sighed in relief. "Maybe the guy's not so bad after all?"
There's always a catch. And just who's going to be the one at the top of this new world order?
"Under my administration, Galbadia has sought reunification with the western territories for the last twenty years," he went on. "But, that is merely the first step of many on the road towards this great goal for the good of all mankind. I would wish to meet with the leaders of the world's nations to discuss these matters in further detail. Unfortunately, even to this day there remain many trifling problems standing between Galbadia and-"
Deling suddenly cut himself off, shifting his vision from the camera to the ceiling of the studio, as if his attention had been drawn away by a disturbance of some sort. After several short moments of perturbed silence, he craned his neck back down and continued.
"Forgive me. As I was saying, it is regrettable that even now there remains discord between Galbadia and many other world powers, which has in the most extreme cases grown into violent insurrection, and as of this very morning, an attempt on my life. Rest assured, the insurgents' plot has been thoroughly thwarted, and the whereabouts of their hideout swiftly uncovered by our tracking specialists. The might of our military forces should be dealing with them as we speak."
"Wha-!?" Selphie yelped, Squall only just managing to cover her mouth with his black-gloved hand before she alerted the guards outside the station. It was unexpected news to be sure, but unsurprising in the face of the Owls' lackadaisical methodology.
"Rinoa is not gonna be happy about this," Zell grimly opined.
"And I owe the foiling of this treachery in no small part to the ambassador I have come before you today to introduce," Deling continued. "Who will be my representative for the coming conference with the leaders of the world. As you are aware, seventeen years ago, Galbadia waged a bloody war with the eastern nation of Esthar, commanded by the wicked Sorceress Adel. And now, today, I am honored to formally announce our nation's own alliance with yet another sorceress."
You must be joking.
"And so, ladies and gentlemen of the world-"
Deling's speech was at once silenced by a loud screeching of metal, prompting him to agitatedly tilt his neck upward once more. His mouth shot open in shock as he backed away from the lectern quickly, practically wrapping himself in the curtains to his rear. A massive chunk of metal scaffolding suddenly crashed onto the stage with an earsplitting roar, the podium crushed into naught but splinters as the audio clipped over the speakers and the camera shook violently. Squall stared on in absolute horror, mouth agape as the dust settled and a flash of grey dropped from the ceiling, charging the tangled president and yanking him forcefully from the backdrop. The assailant spun Deling around quickly and pressed a striking ebony blade to the man's throat. Despite the lingering static interference which continued to blur and distort the fine details of the picture, Squall could easily recognize the signature design of the weapon, as well as the short, cropped blonde hair upon the head of its wielder.
"Seifer!?" Zell flipped, Squall far too stunned by the scene unfolding before their eyes to silence him.
"What's he doing here!?" Selphie shrilled, as yet another figure leaped down from the rafters, landing upon the collapsed walkway and outstretching her arms in a halting gesture.
She was clad in a salmon-pink zip-up vest, and a matching skirt which ran down to her knees over top of a pair of black pants and boots. Her arms bore matching brown warmers and gloves, her right hand clutching a thick coiled metallic whip with a spiked tip at the end. All that was missing were the trademark silver-rimmed glasses atop her fair face, now contorted with agitation between the familiar flowing fringes of golden hair.
"Stay back!" she commanded the armed guards that began slowly stepping into the camera's lens.
"Instructor!?" Zell followed up, utterly bewildered. "What the hell is going on!?"
"For the last time, stay back!" she repeated herself frantically. "You're only going to provoke him!"
Seifer tugged at the captive president's shirt collar in the background, dragging him to the side of the stage with the Hyperion's blade still firmly pressed to his neck. The infantrymen's rifles tracked his every movement, anxiously waiting for the smallest opening to take the shot. Quistis whipped her attention to the camera and shouted into it with all her lungs had to offer.
"Timber team! If you're watching this, get over here right now! You have permission! I need your help!"
"Squall?" Selphie racked his shoulder in a panic.
Damn it all.
Realizing there was no further recourse to be had, he quickly drew his gunblade from its sheath and rounded the alley corner into the plaza. He charged for the squadron of soldiers positioned at the entrance to the station, mesmerized as they stared up to watch the hostage situation unfold upon the giant screen.
"Coming through!" Zell roared as he slammed the ground with his fist, sending a tremor roaring forward through the cobbled earth just as Squall had witnessed not two weeks earlier. The platoon quickly spun around at the sound of the approaching rumble, and simultaneously yelped in alarm as the quake impacted, sending them flying in all directions. Not one of the three SeeDs slowed as they charged past the still falling debris and through the automatically parting glass doors, Selphie having withdrawn her bulky nunchaku from the back of her outfit.
"Where the hell's the studio?" Zell impatiently barked as he scanned the directory situated on the lobby wall.
"I'd say we just follow the guards wherever they're heading," Selphie suggested.
"Yeah, but I'd like to narrow it down to the floor, at least. Here we go! Main sound stage, third floor, room 301. Let's move!"
The squad bolted into the waiting elevator, Squall punching the button for the third level as soon as he stepped aboard, and then proceeding to jam the door-close button repeatedly until the lift finally responded in kind. As they rose, his mind raced at light-speed as he speculated as to what could have possibly transpired at the Garden in the two brief days they had been away. How had Seifer gotten to Timber? Why had he come? And why was he after the president?
Now that I think about it, those last two might not be so hard to guess.
"Shields up," he commanded.
Squall activated his sphere clipped to his belt, summoning a shimmering protective energy barrier before him as the elevator's indicator rang out with a ding, and the lift slowed to a halt on the third floor. Zell and Selphie mirrored his casting, as he brought his gunblade up before him in a battle-ready stance. The doors slowly parted, revealing a mass of blue uniforms lining the hallway before them. Squall wasted not a moment of their element of surprise, leaping from the lift and slicing down the nearest infantryman, not even bothering to pull the trigger. An uproar instantly shot to life in the hall, as Zell and Selphie moved in to subdue their own chosen targets.
Machine gun fire erupted at once, the bullets ricocheting harmlessly off of the magical barriers and impacting into the office walls and other soldiers alike. The group slashed, pummeled and beat their way through the collective of security forces, not letting up the onslaught even for a second as they pushed their way down the hall. After a few moments the clattering gunfire ceased, the remaining soldiers evidently having come to the realization that their firearms were having no effect at all. Several holstered their weapons and pulled sharp glaives from their sides, charging forward to meet their enemies for close-quarters combat. Squall expertly parried each and every one of their strikes, slicing through them one after another with deft precision and skill, until there remained not a soldier left standing in the narrow expanse before them. The floor beneath their feet now lay strewn with carnage, Squall's blade soaked brilliant crimson with the blood of many slaughtered men.
And still, it doesn't feel real…
"Come on!" Zell urged him. "It should be just up ahead!"
Squall snapped out of his pondering and followed his squadmates down the blood-drenched hall, sidestepping fallen bodies and weapons alike. He procured his rag from his back pocket and quickly wiped away the gleaming vital fluid from his sword, the small cloth nearly proving insufficient for the sheer amount. He stowed it away once more as Zell burst through the double doors ahead, and the three emerged into a brilliantly lit sound stage. Cameras of all shapes and sizes dotted the floor, their connecting cables forming a web of wires strewn all across the wide expanse, their lenses without exception trained on the fallen piece of scaffolding which now occupied the space where the podium once resided. No less than ten armed guards stood amongst the machinery. The majority held their rifles still locked to Seifer and the captive Deling to the left-most rear corner of the stage, while two others instead trained their sights on Quistis to the middle-right. The maddened youth smirked fiendishly as his brilliant blue eyes met Squall's from across the divide, a look of contentment and foolish pride plastered on his scarred face.
"I wondered who was making all that racket out there," he sneered defiantly, as a sub-set of the guards promptly trained their rifles to the newly arrived intruders.
"What do you think you're doing!?" Squall snapped. "Why are you getting involved in this!?"
"Isn't it obvious?" he retorted. "Doing my duty as a man, and making sure you three don't screw it all up! Her whole objective was to get this guy, right? So, what are you planning to do with him?"
You've already screwed things up more than we ever could.
"I get it!" Zell shot to attention, the guards twitching their fingers on the trigger ever so slightly at the sudden outburst. "You're Rinoa's -"
"Shut your damn mouth, chicken-wuss!"
He's right, Zell. Just keep your mouth shut and don't say anything stupid.
"You really are bat-shit, aren't you!?" he fired back. "You actually came all the way from the Garden just to-"
"Shut up!" Squall exploded, his voice reverberating throughout the studio as Zell and Selphie reeled in shock. He met Quistis' worried stare upon the stage, her own expression of dread confirming he was not alone.
"Garden?" Deling chuckled with amusement from within Seifer's grasp. "I see… so, you're all from SeeD."
Zell's face instantly turned white as a sheet, the blatant faux-pas finally having registered to his over-eager mind. He had just unwittingly revealed their organization's involvement to the most powerful man in Galbadia, on live TV being broadcast for the entire world to see. In just one ill-conceived taunt, he had effectively destroyed their entire operation, the repercussions for which would be beyond anything Squall could even begin to imagine.
"Rest assured, should anything happen to me, the entire Galbadian military will reduce your precious Garden to little more than smoldering ash," Deling threatened with a sardonic smile, and twisted his head back to Seifer. "You may let go of me now."
"Nice going, chicken-wuss!" he chided Zell from the stage, only tightening his grip around the president's collar as he began slowly dragging him backstage. "You and your big mouth just blew everything!"
The spiked blonde-haired youth merely stood silent, his head bowed in guilt. Before him, numerous automatic safeties disengaged as the soldiers re-affixed their weapons to the retreating abductor.
"Take care of his friends!" Deling ordered his men as Seifer drew him off the stage and down an adjoining passage to the rear.
On command, the infantry spun back around and trained their rifles to the SeeDs. The wider scope of the room notwithstanding, Squall recognized that dealing with the collection of soldiers before them would in theory be no different than their previous confrontation in the hallway. All he, his teammates and Quistis need do was quickly conjure another series of protective barriers, and the threat that their firearms posed would cease to be a factor. It would have been another matter entirely had Rinoa tagged along with them, and been resultantly caught in the crossfire.
"Guys!" a familiar voice called out from the entrance behind them.
You've got to be kidding.
He tilted his head back momentarily to see Rinoa and Watts come charging through the doors, skidding to a halt and nearly tripping over the mess of wires the instant they caught sight of the standoff before them. The rifles clacked again as Squall returned his focus to the front, each soldier having shifted their aim to the oncoming duo. Their unexpected arrival on the scene only served to needlessly complicate what should have been a simple and straightforward altercation. His mind raced as he desperately sought a solution to their newfound predicament, when a faint emission of glistening energy peeked itself into the corner of his vision.
From atop the stage, Quistis' coiled metal whip rapidly took on a glow of vibrant sky blue, shimmering brightly and beginning to hiss subtly. Her eyelids were firmly shut in concentration, as she continued to pump more and more energy into the weapon with great haste. At last she opened them, and fiercely swiped the whip with a single powerful lash. As it traversed its horizontal arc from left to right, innumerable fist-sized chunks of ice materialized along its trajectory and flew in a scatter shot across the divide. The mighty conjured hailstorm slammed into the distracted infantrymen from behind, knocking them from their feet to land face-first upon the hard, wire-strewn concrete floor with a cacophony of agonized groans. Excess chucks smashed into the neighboring cameras and audio equipment spread about, utterly demolishing the technology and sending sparks flying from the freshly exposed circuitry.
"Come on!" she called to them from the stage, her whip resting limply by her side as the icy blue aura faded away. "Barricade the doors, and let's go!"
Squall complied at once, joining Zell by the side of the nearest wrecked camera and heaving it up in tandem. Rinoa and Watts shut the doors behind them and bolted across the expanse to assist, together with Selphie raising up another and moving it back to the entrance beside Squall and Zell's own.
"How'd you get in?" Squall quickly asked Rinoa as she and the others pushed their makeshift barrier into place.
"I circled around to the back, and ran into Watts," she explained quickly, as Zell and Selphie grabbed the sides of the desk the destroyed audio mixing console sat atop. "Apparently he bumped into Seifer, and told me he charged in through the side stairwell. He made pretty short work of the guards on the way, so we just followed the trail of bodies and wound up here. I… can't believe he actually came to help. Where is he?"
"Backstage with Deling," Zell grunted as he lowered the table. "We gotta get moving before he does something… well, even more reckless."
The five spun around and bolted across the length of the studio, promptly regrouping with Quistis, and trotted backstage down a long dimly-lit hallway lined by many dressing rooms. All was silent save for the arrhythmic pounding of their boots upon the polished floor, until a faint argument soon came into Squall's earshot from a set of open double doors at the end of the hall.
"… no other option. The only thing killing me will do is guarantee the complete annihilation of your home, and everyone you hold dear."
"And who do you think I'd care enough about to miss? You don't know a damn thing about me, so don't press your luck!"
Squall led the way forward to the ajar entryway, rushing ahead at top speed toward the source of the commotion. He reached the door-frame in a matter of moments, readying himself to leap forward into the fray, when he was suddenly halted in mid motion and flung back by an unseen force. He collapsed onto his back on the hard linoleum, the rest of the group instantly stopping in their tracks to his rear.
"The hell?" Zell wondered aloud, circling around his prostrate figure and prodding the open doorway with his hand. "No way. It's like there's an invisible wall here!"
"Are you alright, sir?" Watts asked with concern, extending his hand before Squall's dazed vision.
He took hold of the young man's offered support and raised himself back to his feet, still aching from the inexplicable barrier he had collided with. Seifer stood with his hostage beyond the door-frame, positioned squarely in the middle of a dark, elegantly decorated dressing room swathed in long regal drapery on all sides. Illuminated only by a pair of candles upon the vanity table, his gaze rested on their reflections in the mirror, his wicked smirk unflinching as he continued to hold the gunblade to Deling's throat.
"How's this for a bitter end?" he sneered into the glass. "To be able to see the life fade from your own eyes as your blood spills all over the floor?"
"Don't do it, Seifer!" Quistis pleaded with him from beyond the mysteriously impregnable divide. "The consequences will be disastrous!"
Already too late for that now.
"I thought I told you, I've had enough of your nannying!" he snapped, turning to face the group of six. "This is my story, my dream, and I'm going to see it through no matter what it takes."
His dream…
"What a poor, helpless little boy..."
The icy cold voice echoed through the dark dressing room and into the hall, its very timbre sending a shiver down Squall's spine. Seifer darted his head in every direction, straining his ears to uncover the source, when a distinct hissing arose to his rear. The grey-coated young man abruptly spun around with his captive to face the noise, as a shroud of dark mist began to congeal into being, growing in height and width rapidly. Squall's breath caught in his throat as he looked on, a feeling of dread unlike any he had ever experienced before sweeping over him in that very moment.
At last, a distinctly feminine figure emerged from the rapidly dissipating mist, shrouded in the eerie shadows of the candlelight. From what Squall could make out as he squinted against the darkness, her wardrobe consisted of a tight fitting, dark-violet dress, its collar and shoulders adorned with black feathers, and the upper half of her face concealed by a pointed, blood-red mask in the image of a hawk. She wore a headpiece decorated with all manner of strange effects, some of which appeared to be devilish horns jutting out at asymmetrical angles, and the rest of which Squall could not presently determine in the dimness of the room.
"Where were you!?" Deling bellowed at the mysterious woman. "Dammit, never mind that now. Just get me out of this mess! Turn this brat into one of those things like you did to my body double!"
"Who the hell are you?" Seifer growled menacingly, failing to acknowledge his hostage's outburst.
"Such a confused little boy, aren't you?" she taunted him again, taking a step forward.
"Stay back!" he roared, pressing the blade ever closer to Deling's neck as he backed the two of them closer to the doorway.
"You're standing idle at the crossroad between innocence and maturity," she continued, inching forward ever so slowly. "Torn between right and wrong, and unsure of which path will lead you to your true destiny. Looked down upon by those around you, and scorned for being different from the rest, for being the bothersome nail that sticks up. It's a feeling I know all too well… and so, I come to offer you a reprieve."
"I told you to stay back!" Seifer barked. "Come any closer, and I swear I will slit his throat, right here and now!"
"The boy in you is telling you to step forward," she spoke in a hushed tone, unceasing in her approach. "The man is telling you to back away. You just can't make up your mind, can you? You want to be saved from this predicament. It's perfectly fine to ask for help. You're only a little boy, after all."
"I am not a boy!"
"So… you don't want to be a boy anymore?"
She now stood directly before him, Seifer's tall figure combined with Deling's portly stature almost completely obscuring her from Squall's view through the door. He continued to observe the scene unfolding before him breathlessly, feeling his heart start to pound in his chest anxiously as the tension continued to build to its inevitable climax.
"Then come with me," she hissed malevolently. "Come with me to a place of no return. Bid farewell to your childhood, and become the man you were destined to be."
Her right arm finally protruded itself from behind the obstruction of the two men's bodies, the hawk-shaped mask clasped within her sheer black-gloved fingers. Seconds passed in dead silence, not a one among the six in the hall nor the three within the room uttering a single sound. For those few moments, the world seemed to stand completely still, until it was abruptly set back in motion by a sudden clank of metal upon linoleum. Seifer's gunblade fell from his grasp to the floor, his figure remaining immobile before Squall's eyes as the same dark mist sputtered into existence once more and began to envelop him. It quickly swirled and thickened, until it blocked out any sight of the room's already shadowy interior. Slowly, it returned into focus as the mist faded away, void of any trace of life. Seifer, Deling and the woman were gone, along with the fallen ebony gunblade.
"T-that..." Zell stammered from behind, seemingly at a complete loss for words. "That... didn't actually happen... did it?"
Squall turned to glance between the matching looks of bewilderment upon each of the five in his presence, all of them speaking louder than any verbal affirmation. He had felt the screaming adrenaline of battle upon the shores of Dollet. He had felt unnerved in the aftermath at the prospect of having taken human lives with such ease. He had felt dread and agitation in the midst of the foolishly conceived train hijacking, and felt disgust and desperation as they had fended off the hideous presidential body double. But now, for the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt true fear.
It couldn't have been real. Those are just old fairy-tales… aren't they?