Hello, everybody. Here be chapter thirteen, over 24 pages long.
I'm not entirely sure of the quality. Writer's block can make me very uncertain about things, and there are a few scenes in here I struggled with. It may or may not be obvious to you, but if it is, please don't hesitate to tell me so that I can make the chapter better. All told, I think this might be one of my weaker chapters.
Anyway, a good portion of the characters are in this chapter. We have Leblanc, Seymour, Lulu, Auron, Kinoc, Tidus, Yuna and Wakka. Yes, Kinoc is back. Paine and Rikku get a break, but they'll be back in chapter 14. And for a short chapter summary: as Seymour is being interrogated by Lulu, Auron meets face-to-face with Kinoc for the first time in years. Tidus and Yuna make an intimate promise. And Wakka's taken sort of a back seat throughout the entire story until now. Find out something about him you surely didn't know.
This chapter also will jump around a lot. Let me say again: A LOT. Attention to detail is going to become very important from here on out.
As per usual, the disclaimer and liability crap.
First, the disclaimer. I do not own Final Fantasy X, the Characters, Spira or anything else associated with the original game Final Fantasy X. However, the plot is mine. Don't steal it without my permission.
And now, the warning: This story continues to be rated M for mature. Those who are skeptical of stories with this rating are fully aware that they read Zanarkand, Full Circle at their own discretion and will not hold the author responsible for any offense taken.
I think that does it. Have fun and enjoy chapter 13. After the wait, you've certainly earned it.
Chapter 13: The Enemy of My Enemy
_
Zanarkand, SINN HQ.
12:32.
Saturday, December 7.
Viewers watching the SINN ticker at the bottom of the TV saw the following headline glide repeatedly across the screen:
BREAKING NEWS: Seymour Apprehended on Bikanel Archipelago, North Island One . . .
SINN had just received word of his capture mere minutes ago. The whole studio was ecstatic at the news; even Leblanc could not contain her excitement. Not only was this story cause for an up-welling of giddiness, but this was the biggest story she had broken in her life. Seymour had finally been found and captured. It had only been two weeks since the attacks, but for many citizens of Zanarkand, it seemed like forever. Leblanc had felt like she had been holding her breath for the last two weeks, and now, finally, she could finally breathe again.
It looked like another late night was in order.
"We are told by officials at the SIA that information is being released to the press on a need-to-know basis," Leblanc reported to the cameras fixated on her figure. She was trying her hardest to remain professional, despite the adrenaline rushing through her body. "So far, loves, we know very little. Right now, the story goes that SIA officials, in collaboration with DASC CCDP, managed to track the former mayor of the city of Bevelle to tiny North Island One, the island west of Bikanel. He was detained by the SIA at twenty-three-thirteen last night, on board a small boat which he used to attempt an escape.
"Information leaked by the SIA and Home's paper, the Home Island Times, has confirmed that Seymour is currently being held at top-secret Cometia, the most famous prison in the world, a facility so secret that its location is protected by the SIA and by the DASC, two organizations often at odds with each other in recent months. The information also states that he will be held there until the DASC can convene to set a trial date and location. In the meantime, loves, we are told that, despite the severity of Seymour's crimes, he is being treated well in the custody of the Al Bhed whom he swore to destroy . . ."
~~~~~ ZFC 2.6 ~~~~~
_
SIA HQ.
12:34.
Saturday, December 7.
"You're free to do what you will with him. Just buy me some time until I can take care of the issue . . . Don't you understand? That's the beauty of it! The Al Bhed are the most crooked motherfuckers in the world, and for once, we can use that to our advantage. . . . Yes. Hold him at Cometia; it's headed and controlled by the Al Bhed. Crooked people have crooked laws. Therefore, it shouldn't be hard to bypass all those rules of prisoner treatment that those fools in the DASC passed . . . yes, they know they're not to set a trial date or a location until Seymour cooperates. Depending on how well he does, that may or may not happen . . . we'll see, won't we?"
~~~~~ ZFC 2.6 ~~~~~
_
Cometia Prison Facility, South Island Three.
12:59.
Saturday, December 7.
The loudspeaker's robotic, repetitive voice bombarded his pounding ears.
You are guilty until proven innocent . . . you are guilty until proven innocent . . . you are guilty until proven innocent . . .
The man spat blood onto the cold, concrete floor as he felt another blow rock his stomach.
"Wh . . . what are you doing to me?"
~~~~~ ZFC 2.6 ~~~~~
_
Home, The Cat's Meow.
18:26.
Saturday, December 7.
Auron appreciated irony. That is, he appreciated it except when said irony was unpleasant, and when it affected him. The club was much quieter than the last time he had been in here, quiet enough for Auron to busy himself with such thoughts. He shook his head, nearly overwhelmed by the thought that he had been in this very bar, on a mission, just two days before. It was as though he were looking at himself through a different pair of eyes. He had almost forgotten what it meant to just come to a bar and have a drink, even though he worked at such a bar, which was another irony. His days at the Blitz Bar and Grill seemed long ago and far away, another life he lived in a parallel universe.
He looked up, and saw that the waiter had arrived with his glass of sake and the bottle from which it came. "Rana ec ouin tnehg, cen," he said.
'Here is your drink, sir.' Auron understood Al Bhed, but could not speak it. "Thank you," he replied.
Auron picked up the drink and downed it in one gulp before pouring himself another. As he threw back the second glass, he glanced at the large neon clock that was hanging over the door. It was almost half-past six. He poured himself a third drink, but this time, he let it rest on the table, the liquid dancing in the glass momentarily. Auron still wore his sunglasses; all the neon signs and lights overwhelmed his eye. Bored, he sat there, watching the clock, not touching his third drink.
The instant the second hand touched the twelve and it became exactly six-thirty, the door to the club opened, and a short, bald man walked briskly in. Despite the heat, he was dressed in a heavy yellow T-shirt and a pair of gray sweats, littered with holes. Filthy white tennis shoes covered his feet, and one of them squeaked whenever it touched the floor. The man walked a few paces into the room and scanned the place. Almost instantly, his eyes came to rest on Auron, and he quickly made his way over to where the man was sitting. When he arrived, the seated man rose and extended his hand.
"Nice disguise," Auron remarked flatly.
"Auron, good to see you," the man said, shaking Auron's hand firmly and quickly. "It's been a long time."
Auron nodded, grabbing his glass and downing the third shot. "Yes it has, Kinoc. Yes it has."
~~~~~ ZFC 2.6 ~~~~~
_
Cometia Prison Facility.
18:33.
Saturday, December 7.
The detention center loomed dark and ominous on the tiny island, a hollow fortress surrounded by high, electric fences and automated heat-seeking machine gun turrets. Its area spanned the equivalent of an entire city block; it was nestled against a cliff on the south wall so that the complex rarely got any sunlight. Towers rose at all four corners of the complex, lookouts posted to spot any escapees on sight. Guard dogs roamed the inside of the fence, vicious killing beasts who were just barely kept under control by the men who held their leashes. Cameras were everywhere, on every fence post and above every door. There were motion alarms down every hallway and on every door frame. There was no escaping the place. Cometia was a facility designed both to keep people out, and to keep them in.
As the sun set, casting the place in dark shadows, Lulu stepped off the SIA yacht which had taken her there from the mainland, hundreds of miles away. The whole island seemed to engulf her in a black hole, and she suddenly became chilly. Shivering, she held her arms close to her body and followed the guard up the rocky path. A growing pain began to develop in her right hand, and she looked down to see that the hand clutching her briefcase had become so clenched that her fingernails were digging into her palm. Letting out a slow sigh, she relaxed her hand. Seymour couldn't do anything to her. She would not be harmed.
Then there was the SIA. What could the SIA do to her? This horrifying thought suddenly crossed her mind. She remembered Kinoc's tone of voice when he had called her a few days ago. She knew he fully expected her to crack Seymour. He was that way. The jobs he wanted done the most were assigned to the best, people whom he had no doubts in to do their jobs. But what if said person was having doubts about her own abilities? What would the SIA do if Lulu couldn't get anything out of Seymour? She shook her head. Seymour was the least of her concerns.
"I'm doubting myself," Lulu muttered so that only she could hear herself speak. "I've never doubted myself before. Oh, Yevon . . . I think I've made a terrible mistake. What is wrong with me?"
The guard's voice suddenly startled Lulu back to reality. "This way, Miss Lulu," he said curtly, holding out his arm.
Lulu looked up, surprised to find out that during her musings, she had already been led into the facility. Cometia's hallways were freezing cold and made of dull gray concrete. She felt goose bumps rising on her arm, partly from the cold and partly from her nerves. She knew nothing about Cometia, since it was one of the most secret places in Spira. Before boarding the boat, she had to sign a very stiff official statement, saying that she would not reveal the prison's location once she left the island or else there would be "severe, swift and inescapable punishment by the DASC committee and the Spiran Intelligence Agency."
She came to a stop outside a heavy metal door, inset by a small rectangular window. The door was locked by keypad. Lulu discreetly took a glance at the escort as he punched in the combination, trying to see what it was, but he did it so fast that she could not catch the code. The lock clicked, and she was quickly ushered in. She found herself in a small rectangular room, void of anything except a table, chair and three other men. All three were dressed in dark gray suits, and all three wore sunglasses, despite how dark it was in the facility. Two of them stood behind the table, and the third was leaning against the back wall, arms folded.
Lulu took a huge gulp of air and let it out slowly. This was it.
"Rammu, Secc Lulu," the left man behind the table greeted, nodding stiffly.
"Hello Miss Lulu." The man on the back wall suddenly spoke. Lulu whipped around at the sound of the man's sharp voice.
"These men are from the Home branch of the SIA," her escort interjected. "They're here to oversee the interrogation."
"Oui ghuf fro ouina rana. Gehul dammc ic ouina dra pacd bancuh du lnylg Syoun Seymour. Fana du syga cina dryd rybbahc." The right man spoke in Al Bhed.
"You know why you're here. Kinoc tells us you're the best person to crack Mayor Seymour. We're to make sure that happens." Lulu nodded.
"Yna oui nayto?"
"Are you ready?" was the translation.
Lulu shook her head. "No, I'm not," she replied, saying the words she had wanted to for the last three days. "I'm an attorney, not an inquisitor. This isn't my job. It violates every intercity decree on prisoner treatment that's been drafted in the last two hundred years. I request that I be removed from the entire process."
She had said it. Her conscience had won. And to her surprise, it didn't feel bad at all. On the contrary, she felt as though a massive weight had been removed from her shoulders once she had said what needed saying.
This feeling was short-lived.
"Taheat," the man on the right side of the table said shortly.
"Denied."
Lulu's eyes widened. "Excuse me?"
"Ihtancdyht ruf dra ykahlo uv dra SIA fungc. Uhla ouina eh, ouina eh. Eh drec picehacc, dranac hu nadnaydehk uhla oui lussed ouincamv. Dra desa ryc lusa yht byccat vun oui du syga ib ouin seht nakyntehk dryd taleceuh."
Flustered, Lulu turned to the man on the back wall and snapped, "Translation?"
"Understand how the agency of the SIA works. Once you're in, you're in. In this business, there's no retreating once you commit yourself. The time has come and passed for you to make up your mind regarding that decision."
"You mean . . ." Lulu closed her eyes, feeling truly frightened now for the first time since she arrived on the island. "That I'm to remain here until Seymour confesses?"
"Or dies," her escort piped up. "But the Director would strongly prefer the former."
Slowly, she pulled the chair out from the table and sat, resting her head in her hands. She was trapped. There was no way out. She might as well have been a prisoner at Cometia along with Seymour. It was a frightening, yet accurate way of looking at her predicament. Quickly, though, realizing her show of weakness throughout this whole meeting, she regained her composure. A steely and blank expression to match those of the men in the room was framed in her face as she raised her head and met the gaze of the Al Bhed agents. She nodded.
"All right then," she said professionally, as though she were interviewing a client. "Let's get down to business."
Her escort nodded. "Welcome to the SIA, Lulu."
~~~~~ ZFC 2.6 ~~~~~
After Lulu had been briefed and exited the room, the two Al Bhed agents turned to each other.
"Tu oui drehg cra femm pa ypma du tu ed?"
"Hu."
"E yknaa."
~~~~~ ZFC 2.6 ~~~~~
_
Zanarkand, 78th St., Apartment 202.
18:35.
Saturday, December 7.
Tidus and Yuna burst through the door to Tidus's apartment, both laughing hysterically. Tidus had insisted that they go to one of his favorite clubs over the weekend, and they had just returned. Both were slightly tipsy and very exhausted. The club had been packed with people, as it was a Saturday night, and teenagers and adults alike were letting loose all the steam that had been built up at work and school over the past couple of weeks. Both Tidus and Yuna had let it all out- two weeks' worth of tension, worry, confusion, anger, depression and nervousness as a result of the Stadium Attack, martial law, Seymour's declaration and Tidus's hospitalization. With Seymour's capture, celebrations were held all over the city.
That's not at all why they went.
They paused a minute in the tiny living room to regain their breath. Tidus, after shutting the door, leaned facing the wall, still chuckling. Yuna had sat on the arm of the couch and was also still giggling. Her skirt, a silk white one which had once been very prim, was now slightly wrinkled and disheveled. One of the straps of her blue spaghetti strap top had fallen off her shoulder, but she had ignored it. Her hair had slipped out of its bun and now hung around her shoulders. Tidus had unbuttoned his shirt, but now had closed it, since it was considerably colder in the apartment than in the club.
Tidus turned around so that he was facing Yuna and folded his arms over his chest. He watched with a lopsided grin as Yuna smiled at him before lifting a leg to unzip one of her boots. She carefully slid it off before turning her attention to the other. Tidus watched, seemingly mesmerized. Once both of her boots were off, she slowly moved her toes so that Tidus could hear a soft cracking sound. She sighed contentedly.
"That's better," she said. "I've been dying to do that for an hour."
Tidus smiled and walked over to take a seat on the couch. Yuna's gaze followed his movements, and she soon joined him on the couch as well. She sat facing Tidus, with her knees bent in front of her face and her skirt tucked in between them. Tidus was sprawled out, so that he almost took up an entire half of the couch by himself. It was a small couch, small enough that he could reach out and touch Yuna if he so desired. But he didn't; he just let his arms hug as much of the couch as he could.
"That . . . was awesome," Tidus stated, still sounding a bit out of breath.
"Yeah," Yuna said, nodding. Her hair shook slightly with her movement. "I had a lot of fun, Tidus."
"Rock-on," Tidus replied, nodding slowly and making a peace sign with his right hand. A small silence fell between them before sarcastically Tidus blurted, "Well, this is fun."
Yuna giggled. "It's more fun than being at home," she replied. "Work, work, work." This was followed by a huge sigh.
"Whatever!" Tidus said, looking at her. "You're loaded. You don't need to work with that much money, do you?"
Yuna shook her head. "I would trade you in a heartbeat," she said.
Tidus snorted. "You don't wanna trade me, let me tell you what," he said. "My life sucks."
Yuna shifted her position so that her legs were tucked underneath her and so that she was sitting on them before giving Tidus a perplexed look. Tidus countered with one of his own.
"Why?" Yuna said. "Tell me more. Why does your life suck?"
Tidus shrugged. "I dunno," he sighed. "I don't really wanna talk about it."
"Are you sure?" Yuna pressed gently. "Talking helps. I know."
Tidus sighed. "I don't really talk to anyone about my shit," he said. "I mean, I could talk to Wakka, but he doesn't need to know nothin'."
"You have me," Yuna replied softly.
She reached her hand out and rested it on his leg. It was a warm and gentle touch. Tidus looked at it in surprise and confusion before looking up at Yuna. She looked genuinely concerned, and she was staring intently into his dark blue eyes. Tidus quickly pulled his own gaze away and stared at Yuna's hand. His own hand twitched, as if instinctively remembering what the touch of a woman meant. Surprisingly, however, he held himself back. This was different.
He grew uncertain of himself and his situation once again, a feeling he seemed to be experiencing more and more often while he was in Yuna's company. The only time anybody ever touched him was during Blitzball when he was making contact with another player, when he was being punched in the arm by Wakka, or when he was having heated sex with some girl he had picked up. Nobody ever touched him for any other reason. The last time he experienced genuine affection was when he hugged his mother for the last time, more than twelve years ago. So now, having Yuna's hand resting on his knee was somewhat of a mixed blessing.
"Uh, well . . ." he started.
Yuna's hand did not move, and he could still feel her watching him intently. She must have sensed his discomfort, but she was being stubborn in her own right. She was not going to let this go.
"I'm so fucking pissed at Auron," he finally said.
"What about Auron?" Yuna asked gently.
"He's fucking gay!" Tidus snapped. "All he ever does is work at the bar, come home, sit in that chair and read his paper. He never even talks to me. And when he does talk to me, it's always to say some shit like, 'behave yourself, or you'll pay, motherfucker.'"
"Do you want him to talk to you more?" Yuna prodded.
"I dunno," Tidus muttered. "I just wish he'd fucking leave. That he'd let me do my own shit when I want to do it. I'm nineteen fucking years old, but he won't go away. He feels like he needs to keep some sort of 'promise' he had with my old man."
Yuna looked puzzled. "Promise?" She repeated.
"Yeah," Tidus muttered, setting his hands in his lap and staring at them. "Auron told me once that before my old man died, he made him promise to look after me." He hissed. "Yeah. When I was in the hospital a couple weeks ago, he tried to give me some goddamn sermon about 'looking at myself for the answer to life's problems', or some bullshit like that. As if that made my life any easier . . . but oh well. Auron's still better than my old man ever was." Yuna was silent, inviting Tidus to say more. "My old man was a real piece of shit. I don't even know why he had me. He loved my mom, not me."
"Where is she?"
"Dead. Car accident. Fucking drunk semi. Bam!"
He slapped his hands together before letting them rest in his lap again. He sighed heavily, and Yuna gently squeezed his leg, which reminded Tidus of its presence there. However, he was getting used to it now, and didn't feel as uncomfortable as he had before. In fact, he realized, telling his story was rather easy. Yuna was right. He was feeling a little better. So he continued.
"Anyway, she died in the hospital a few hours after she went there. Then Dad started drinking."
"That's ironic," Yuna remarked. "That he'd start using the same stuff that caused your mother's death."
"I blamed my old man," Tidus continued. "He and Mom had a big fight that night. They hardly fought at all. They were real tight with each other, y'know what I'm sayin'? But something about that night . . . I dunno. Anyway, Mom went for a drive to cool off. And that's when . . . yeah."
Yuna had an urge to ask what happened to the driver who had killed his mom, but quickly decided against it. "I see," was all Yuna quietly said. "I'm really sorry, Tidus." She scooted a little closer to him.
"Whatever, it's all good," Tidus muttered. "But yeah . . . my old man, he was . . . real attached to Mom. He was still a dick when she was alive, but he really lost it after she died."
"Maybe they had you because it was what she wanted," Yuna offered tentatively. "You know how moms are . . ."
He thought about this for a second. "Maybe," he shrugged. Then, he snorted. "Lotta fuckin' good that did me."
The silence that followed was heavy. Yuna removed her hand from Tidus's leg and used it to run through her hair before she intertwined her fingers in her lap. She stared at the wall facing the couch, as though deep in thought about something. Tidus watched her, her bicolor eyes fixated to a random point on his wall. He found that now, he missed her touch. He wanted that hand of hers back.
"I used to smoke cigs 'cause it helped me calm down when I got pissed. But I don't do that anymore," Tidus said randomly, in an attempt to break the silence.
"That's good," Yuna replied absently. Silence settled in once again before, "We don't have a lot in common, do we Tidus?"
"Uh . . . I dunno," Tidus said, sounding both confused and worried that she would say something negative. "I thought we got along okay."
"No no, you misunderstand. I'm not saying we didn't," Yuna said, finally turning her head to look at him again. She smiled softly. "I just find it so peculiar how you and I could even begin to get along. But we do. We get along so well." At this, her hand reached out and gently caressed Tidus's cheek. "It's our pain, Tidus. Without it, I wouldn't be here, in your apartment."
"Pain?" Tidus echoed, still confused, but considerably happier now that Yuna was touching him again.
"Yes," she replied, scooting closer to him. "Remember when we were in the school? And you invited me to your blitz game? Then you called and said we can really do something afterward? And then . . . the attack?"
"Yeah, I remember," Tidus said, catching on. "You saved my life."
"It's pain, Tidus," Yuna said, her voice now barely above a whisper. "You brought me an escape from my life. And I so worried about you when you were in the hospital. I know that you are a neat person. I thought you . . . I thought you could help me. Oh Yevon, that sounds so selfish, doesn't it?"
Tidus reached out for Yuna's hand. He grasped her hand and linked his fingers with hers before giving it a squeeze. She squeezed back.
"No," he said sincerely. "I'm glad I got to spend time with you. It was real fun. And you're not a spoiled bitch like most rich chicks."
Yuna laughed. "I'd like to think not," she chuckled. "Anyway . . . I wanted to thank you, Tidus."
Her expression serious again, she leaned forward and softly touched her lips to his in a gentle kiss.
~~~~~ ZFC 2.6 ~~~~~
"As you may or may not be aware, this prison facility is especially designed to have an adverse effect on the welfare of the human psyche. The best way to break Seymour is to essentially make him insane. Physical persuasion will only get you so far, and rarely does it work to full effect. All the same, you have free reign over this entire process. Use whatever tactics and methods you wish . . ."
_
Cometia Prison Facility.
18:55.
Saturday, December 7.
Her orientation had been brief and disturbing. She had been told just how far she could go to get information from Seymour. There would be two guards in the room with her to 'assist' in the interrogation. Finally, she had been reminded, many times, that this job would be next to impossible. They had said that Seymour would indeed be very difficult to crack, proven by the fact that he had already been interrogated by prison personnel, with no luck at all in getting anything useful.
Despite its ever-present voice in her head, Lulu wasn't one to listen to her conscience when it came to matters of legal right or wrong. She represented the District of Zanarkand without passion or prejudice. Regardless of whom she came up against, regardless of whether or not she thought the defendant was innocent or guilty, she had a job to do. That was what she always told herself. Do the job. Feelings do not win ground in a courtroom. Only the law. But when you worked for the SIA . . . the fine lines between what she could and could not do disappeared. Her authority was limitless. When you did anything for Kinoc's SIA, there were no laws. There were no limitations. She reflected on this fact as she came to Seymour's interrogation room, pausing to quell her nerves.
What part of that logic was supposed to make sense?
She could not think about this. The more she analyzed what she would have to do, the stronger the desire became to turn tail and run away. The longer she stood in this hallway, facing this door, dreading what she would have to do, the less effective she would be. Already she was convincing herself that she wouldn't be able to get information from Seymour. And if she wasn't convinced, Seymour certainly wouldn't be. However, there was a force-of-mind trick she had learned back in law school for difficult cases: mentally shove all thoughts about a case from the mind and then plunge headfirst into it, before there was time for the mind to second-guess itself. Lulu closed her eyes, remembering her lessons. It was a form of meditation, in a sense.
It was just another case.
She stood there for another few seconds, and before she knew it, her eyes had snapped open and she had flung open the door, stepping into the room and coming face-to-face with Mayor Seymour.
It was any prosecutor's dream to be able to question a man in Seymour's position, being the one to hold total power over him when he once commanded the minds of so many others. The Zanarkand Supreme Court, however, was different from a typical Cometia interrogation room. The most notable contrast was Seymour himself. In court, he would be dressed in his finest, clean-shaven and respectable despite his atrocities. In here, all Lulu saw was a man tortured seemingly to a point already past his own insanity. Multiple fresh scabs and bruises littered his face. He had a split lip, a black eye and a large cut across his forehead, still bleeding courtesy of the large veins running down it. The room was dim, but Lulu could still sense him gazing at her with his one healthy and one swollen eye, a gaunt and crazed expression on his pale face. He still wore the same suit as the day he was captured, the expensive clothing now dirty, torn and stained by blood and sweat.
Seymour chuckled as he saw Lulu walk in, which immediately caused the guard to his right to give him a good punch to the gut. Seymour doubled over, coughing loudly, while Lulu watched expressionlessly. She looked up at the guards and waved them off with her hand, and they went to stand at the back of the room, behind Seymour. She slowly walked forward and sat down opposite the convict, waiting for him to regain his breath and look back at her. By now, she was fully focused, and had completely forgotten her prior insecurities.
It was amazing how nerves could stretch the human limitation.
"You know why I'm here," Lulu said seriously to Seymour, opening the file she had brought with her and staring hard at Seymour. "Isn't that correct?"
He chuckled again, shaking his head. "It's not going to get you anywhere. So I guess that means that I don't. Why are you here?"
"To save your life," Lulu said bluntly.
~~~~~ ZFC 2.6 ~~~~~
_
Home, The Cat's Meow.
18:59.
Saturday, December 7.
"Can I buy you another drink?"
"No. Thank you. Al Bhed beer tastes like shit anyway."
"Fine, then. Excuse me for a moment."
The Director of the SIA watched as Auron rose from the tiny table in the corner of The Cat's Meow and made his way to the men's room. His best agent had been virtually mute ever since he had stepped through the door. There were few people in the world who could even begin to read Auron's moods, but Kinoc was one of those few. Something was on Auron's mind, something that was bothering him. But Kinoc wasn't too worried. Auron was also one who would voice his concerns if they were serious enough. He sat, a small smile on his face, sipping his beer despite how bad it tasted.
Auron quickly barged into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He took off his sunglasses and made his way over to the sinks. Squinting through the brightness, he turned on the water, cupping the faucet stream in his hand and tossing the liquid into his face. The icy water ran down his face and neck as he shed his black leather jacket and tore off his shirt, using it to mop himself. Turning off the water, he stared at his reflection. His chest, covered in hair, was also riddled with small scars from his younger days. His new battle wound, the jammed shoulder, was graced with purple and blue discoloration. Slowly, he massaged it as best he could, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth as he tried to work out some of the pain. Quickly coming to the conclusion that he could do nothing, he gingerly put his shirt back on, knowing that he was not helping his shoulder any by moving his arm.
Auron went back to looking at his reflection. He shook his head, and his mirror image copied him. The face he saw was a tired one. Half an hour of small talk with someone he found to be most unpleasant certainly reflected in his features. And then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a ventilation duct. He looked up, remembering the mission he had performed in this club. Why Kinoc insisted on meeting him here, he would never know. It didn't really matter either. All Auron knew was that his desire to work for the SIA had now been diminished. For Auron to be back here, in this club, after he had just infiltrated it and obtained information to kidnap a criminal talked about on every news channel worldwide . . . no. He couldn't do it anymore.
Kinoc looked up as Auron returned to the table, sighing as he sat down. If it were possible, Auron looked even worse than when he had gotten up to go to the restroom. His one good eye drooped with exhaustion, and the uneven stubble on his face glistened where Auron had missed wiping it off. Perhaps it wasn't the right time to ask, but Kinoc just had to know.
"Auron, if you'd indulge me, I'd like to know how you did it," Kinoc said, staring hard at his friend.
The man looked up, unfazed and serious as ever. "Captured Seymour?" he asked.
"Yes, captured Seymour," Kinoc said, nodding and downing the last of his beer.
"Will a summary do?" Auron asked coolly.
Kinoc shook his head. "Come on, Auron, work with me here. You should be proud of yourself for what you've done."
"I'm not," Auron replied. "Pride is poor word choice. I'm not proud of anything I've done. I'm more at ease, but not proud."
"Call it what you want, the whole world is proud of you," Kinoc said.
Auron snorted. "Hmph," he grunted scornfully. "The world doesn't even know I did it, Kinoc. Which is the way I prefer it."
"All right, all right, but just tell me, as a favor to an old friend," Kinoc pressed.
Auron shook his head. "I've done you enough favors," he said icily. "It's time I collect on the debt you owe me."
Kinoc now looked exasperated, even angry. "Just tell me the goddamn story, Auron."
Auron sighed and glanced at his watch. He had been in this club for an hour. An hour too long, he thought. But Kinoc did make a promise, and if there was one thing he could give Kinoc credit for, it was for keeping promises. It was based on this that Auron poured himself his fourth and final drink, taking it down before clearing his throat and looking up at Kinoc, who was waiting patiently, albeit expectantly, for his reply. Silently, he weighed the options. There was no real reason for holding back on finer details except for the fact that he just didn't feel like telling the story. On the other hand, appeasing Kinoc might soften the blow of what he planned to do.
After another few seconds, Auron sighed and launched into the story. He started off with his landing and waiting on the island before infiltrating the cave network and eventually being discovered. He recounted the running to meet Seymour, and how he had easily sniped the crew of his getaway boat as well as his two escorts.
"Sounds pretty easy so far," Kinoc nodded, an impressed look having long since replaced the irritated one that was there before.
Auron shook his head, but chose to hold his reply. Instead, he continued with the story, telling of how he had discovered Seymour's second getaway.
"Oh shit," Kinoc said when he heard this, eyebrows raised, fully enveloped within Auron's retelling. "Continue."
"I used some diversionary tactics to make my way toward the boat and to board it. It-"
"Tactics such as?" Kinoc interrupted.
Auron scowled, disapproving of the interruption. He wanted to get this story out of the way quickly so that he could get to his own point. "Use your imagination," he snapped. "Anyway, he had two more men on board that ship. So, I distracted them and managed to kick one overboard. The other I grabbed in a headlock and used as a human shield when Seymour fired at me again. After he shot his own man, he retreated and I followed. He wasn't on the top floor, so I went down the staircase to the bottom floor. It was a hallway with a bunch of rooms branching off it.
"Seymour was hiding underneath the stairs. I knew he was there, even though he probably thought I didn't. I could hear him shift position, so I silently went into the first room out of the hallway before he could take a shot at me. There was a small window in there that opened up into the next room, so I opened the window and stuck my gun in there as far as I could and fired. The bullet hit a shelf, and the shelf broke and a bunch of glasses fell. The plan was that Seymour would think the shot came from that room, and not the one I was in. He was to think that I fired aimlessly at something, thinking it was him. It worked, and when he opened the door, I snuck out of the room I was in, came up behind him and took him right there."
Kinoc leaned back in his chair, a very impressed look on his face. He shook his head, watching as Auron finished his story and folded his arms. Auron eyed his boss, waiting for what his response would be. Right now, Kinoc was staring back at him blankly, as though he were listening to a boring retelling of a golf story. Then he smiled widely. For some reason, this irritated Auron, and he decided he didn't want to hear what his boss had to say.
As Kinoc opened his mouth to speak, Auron cut in. "Save your praise," he sighed, staring at his empty glass. "Officially, none of this ever happened. There's no praise to give."
Kinoc wanted to argue, but wisely decided that it would be of no use. "Take it how you want," he replied instead. "Now, what do you want, Auron?"
Auron looked up at his boss, not hesitating a second. "I want out. I've done what you wanted me to do, and now it's time for me to leave the SIA. For good." He paused before a small smirk crossed his face and he finished with, "Again."
Kinoc looked taken aback. "Auron, we're just getting started!" he countered. "There's so much more you can do."
"I can, but I won't," Auron said firmly. "We made a deal just now. I held up my side, and now it's time for you to do the same. I resign from the SIA, effective immediately."
Long gone were the feelings of awe and gratitude from Kinoc's face. Now, the man looked positively stressed and a bit more than annoyed. He couldn't help it. Auron was so stubborn; he wasn't going to give an inch. Kinoc could tell by the way he was behaving. In fact, while Kinoc was staring at him, he had even gone so far as to retrieve his sidearm, badge and rank bar, setting them on the table as far away from himself as possible. But what was most convincing was the paper that Auron pulled from the inside of his black leather jacket. It was a letter of resignation, already complete with his signature. Upon opening up the letter and reading it, Kinoc let out a huge sigh, bringing his bald head down to his hands. He quickly rubbed his eyes before lifting his gaze to Auron's resolute, grizzled face.
"Why?"
Auron looked ready for that question. "Are you sure you want the answer?"
"I wouldn't be asking if I didn't."
Auron sighed, leaning forward and pouring another shot of sake before taking it down and resting the small glass back on the cocktail napkin resting on the table. Auron stared intently at the glass as Kinoc waited. Kinoc could see that he was thinking hard about what he was going to say. Finally, the agent looked at his boss, staring hard at him, Kinoc matching his gaze. Even though Auron only had one eye, Kinoc couldn't help but feel a little uneasy. The scar running over his other eyelid didn't help either. Finally Auron looked away.
"That's why." He spoke facing away from Kinoc, staring at the wall as if he were uncomfortable.
Kinoc looked bewildered. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
Auron turned back to his boss, his eye narrowed. "I look into your face. Into your eyes. And I see nothing." Kinoc rolled his eyes, but that did not faze Auron. "Only a void. Your face, your gaze, is empty." He paused to turn and face the wall again. "That disturbs me more than any mission ever could."
"For Yevon's fucking sake, Auron, you know me. You know what this job does to a man! Especially a man in my shoes. What the Hell do you want me to do? Send flowers to the families of everybody who is killed that is in some way involved with my agency?"
"I used to think exactly like you, Kinoc," Auron said. "I used to think that I could hide behind a world of secrets. I would tell myself that if my identity were erased, a world where I didn't exist wouldn't harm me." He shook his head bitterly. "I lost my way, and it took the death of my partner and best friend to realize it. You still haven't."
Auron began to rise, but Kinoc beat him to it. The man leapt from his small chair, face red. "Don't even think about quitting on me like this," he hissed. "Not for a bullshit reason like that. Because that's what it is, Auron. Fucking bullshit. And you know it. You want to know why you're quitting?" Without waiting for an answer, Kinoc plunged ahead. "Because you're old. And you're scared." He laughed derisively. "You're goddamn right you've lost it. And you're too fucking full of yourself to even admit it for the right reasons. Instead, you try to pin it on me and the fact that you don't 'trust' me anymore. You don't trust anybody, Auron! Not me, not your kid, not even yourself. You're old, cynical and paranoid. You're a wanderer, just like that pissant blitz star.
"But did I let that get in the way of taking you in? No. I believe in exceptional talent, and you have it. If you could just keep a fucking secret, the entire agency and all of Spira would benefit. But I guess that's not good enough for you. I guess I was wrong. Now, with the Auron I see standing in front of me, if a few people get killed, who were total cocksuckers to begin with, and you have to keep one big secret, you're ready to run away. My god, what in the fuck happened to you, Auron?"
The entire time that Kinoc had been ranting, Auron had just stood there motionless, staring at Kinoc straight in the eye. When Kinoc was through with him, the man looked visibly shaken. Only for a second. Even that was rare, for Auron was very, very adept at hiding his emotions. However, deep down, he knew that much of what the SIA Director said was absolutely true. And although Auron was rattled, he made no indication that he agreed with Kinoc. Instead, he slowly got up from the table and pulled a twenty from his pocket before haphazardly tossing it down next to the salt shaker. Kinoc, whose fury burned so intently that it immobilized him, simply watched as Auron retrieved his leather jacket from the back of his chair. Shrugging it on, quickly left the bar and hailed a taxi, but not before turning to his boss one final time and softly saying:
"Secrets are what kill people, sir. Not realizing that in time was the biggest mistake I ever made."
~~~~~ ZFC 2.6 ~~~~~
_
Zanarkand, 78th St., Apartment 202.
19:02.
Saturday, December 7.
Time had dissolved into infinity.
'Come on, Tidus. Kiss me back.'
'What are you doing?'
'Don't worry. Please . . . just kiss me.'
'Roll with it, okay, okay . . .'
'Thank you. Oh, this is wonderful.'
'This is messed up!'
'Ha-ha. I must be crazy. But I don't care.'
'Why are you doing this?'
'We can share our pain this way. It makes it bearable.'
'. . . You're a good kisser, Yuna.'
Yuna pulled away slowly and reality slowly materialized around them once again. Tidus knew that, despite what he was used to, it was not a lustful kiss. It was sensual, longing, and full of a myriad of different emotions. It was a sense of closure, a sign of something that meant much more than either of them could fully understand at this moment. It was a declaration used where words were inadequate to describe feelings. It wasn't love either, but more of a promise.
Yuna's eyes were shining as she withdrew from Tidus. Water had risen to them, and was threatening to trickle down her face. Tidus again looked shocked and confused. Of all the reactions he expected Yuna to have, it was not this.
"What's up?" he asked gently.
Yuna sighed shakily and shook her head. She wasn't quite sure what or how she was supposed to feel. She was happy, yet very confused at the same time. "I don't know," she replied. "I don't think anything is wrong. I think it's relief. It's taken me a long time to find you." She looked up at him with shining eyes. "You're my escape. And I can be yours, too. You know that right? We can help each other, right?"
Tidus nodded, a sincerity that he had rarely felt etched in his face. "Sure," he replied.
This time, he leaned forward, and once again their lips were locked in a kiss. It was more passionate than the last one, but still tender and gentle. Yuna's hands gently graced Tidus's face, and his were on her hips. She slid closer to him, so that she was virtually pressed against him. Her arms snaked their way around his neck. Tidus could feel a familiar arousal stirring in his core, and throughout Yuna's kiss, he tried to hold it back. For some reason, as much as he wanted to take Yuna, this didn't seem like the right time. Especially when their kiss was more one of necessity.
Yuna moaned through the kiss, parting soon after to trail some up his jaw. "I could do this all night," she breathed into his ear.
On the other hand . . .
~~~~~ ZFC 2.6 ~~~~~
_
Cometia Prison Facility.
23:44.
Saturday, December 7.
"Any luck?"
"Nothing yet, sir. She was in there with him for almost four hours, but we still couldn't get a single thing out of him."
Kinoc leaned against the wall and kneaded his temples with the tips of his index and middle fingers, as he always did when he was stressed. His vision blurred as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, willing to release the pressure of the stress threatening to overwhelm him. Lulu was sitting at the same table she had during her orientation, her stoic face hiding a fierce hurricane of troubled thoughts. Quickly she glanced at the two men standing to her right, the same who had oriented her. One of them met her gaze but quickly averted, and the other pretended or didn't notice that she was even there. A heavy silence fell among the four, broken only by what Lulu thought was the earsplitting racket of her own heartbeat.
She was afraid.
"Sir, I've gotten nowhere," she said, more to break the silence than anything else. "He has the Faith on his side. He's justified every damn thing he's done through divine will and prophecy."
Kinoc nodded. "I know. As long as he believes he will be rewarded in death, he probably sees no reason to tell us anything useful."
Lulu shook her head. "Actually sir, I do believe that he has information he wants to give. I don't know if it's because of the, er, harsh interrogation techniques, or if it's something else, but he has resisted the urge to talk."
"So why the fuck hasn't he?"
"Like I said, I can't tell you that sir," Lulu replied calmly after a few seconds. "I give you my word that I'm doing the best I can." Kinoc nodded his agreement.
Then, he sighed. "Well, give it one more try. If he doesn't talk then, we'll just have to kill him."
Lulu's eyebrows rose. "You're serious?" she asked, astonished.
Kinoc blinked at her. "Of course I'm serious, Lulu, you would know if I were joking," he said. "We've done this for years with prisoners. We just sell it to the media as a suicide in jail because he was too much of a coward to face just punishment. The public likes hearing that sort of thing."
Lulu put her face in her hands. "Sir, I . . ." she trailed off, letting out a huge sigh. Kinoc waited patiently for her to speak again. "I don't think I can go back in there."
This time, it was Kinoc's turn to be surprised. "Is there a problem?" he asked.
Lulu looked up at him. "Me," she replied. "That's what I've been trying to say. I haven't made any headway at all, and I want out."
Kinoc turned to the two men waiting motionlessly against the wall before saying, "Please leave us for a minute."
The nerves began to rise in Lulu's chest as she hadn't felt them in many, many years. As the men disappeared through the door, she gulped and exhaled as quietly as she could in order to calm herself. Even though the other men certainly didn't make her feel comfortable, she didn't want to be alone in the same room with Kinoc under any circumstances. The SIA director, who had been watching the two men exit, turned to her as the door shut. He walked over and sat across from her at the small table.
"I can't do that," was what he said upon sitting down. "You're a civilian recruited under special circumstances to undertake a top-secret task under the jurisdiction of the SIA. I cannot allow you to endanger this process by just upping and leaving."
Lulu felt a burst of impatience despite her nerves. "What, you'd throw me in jail?"
"Possibly," Kinoc said in a matter-of-fact manner. "As in, that's one possibility. As director of this agency, it's my duty to do whatever is necessary to protect its secrets. If that includes jailing somebody, then so be it."
Lulu said nothing for a few seconds as a wave of nausea crept over her at the word 'secrets.' "So what do I do?"
"You said he was close to cracking, right?"
"I never said that. I said it looked like he wanted to, but wasn't willing."
Kinoc sighed irritably. "Then he's close to cracking." Before Lulu could reply, he cut her off again. "All you have to do is figure out what's holding him back and then do whatever's necessary to strip that away. Whatever it takes, Lulu, short from personal harm. And harm is something we can guarantee won't come to you."
'That's not what I'm worried about,' Lulu thought morbidly.
She decided to try one last avenue, something she wouldn't have wanted to do three hours ago. "Can I cut him a deal?"
"A deal?" Kinoc uttered a noise that sounded like a cross between a laugh and a cough.
"Yes, a deal," Lulu said. "If he confesses, I won't seek the Death Penalty during his trial."
Kinoc snorted. "We already established that he doesn't give a shit what happens to him," he countered. "Besides, we don't negotiate with terrorists. That would weaken the agency when dealing with future incidents."
"Well, how convenient for us," Lulu replied pointedly, irritation momentarily taking the place of her fear. "And for that reason I should make him scream?"
"He . . . doesn't have to scream," was the thoughtful reply. "I just want him to admit to his crimes and the motives behind them." Kinoc stood up. "All options are open. Do whatever it takes to get that confession."
She sighed yet again, staring motionlessly at the cold metal of the table she was sitting at before letting gravity bring her head down to the table's surface. The door opened and slammed shut behind her, signaling Kinoc's exit. A sudden overwhelming rush of exhaustion engulfed her, and she felt water welling up in her eyes. Muttering "no" to herself over and over again with increasing intensity, she shook off the anxiety, softly slapping herself in the face a few times for good measure. She had finally accepted that there was no way out of this. No way out except to plunge forward and hope she made it through to the other side.
"Whatever it takes. Yes sir."
~~~~~ ZFC 2.6 ~~~~~
"The only way you can crack Seymour is to use your intellect. We could have easily beaten him to death without your help, but that's not what the Director wants. Use physical abuse only as punishment and to assert your authority. Otherwise, it's all about mind games. You'd be surprised by the reactions of patients driven to insanity, the information they're willing to give up just to make 'it' stop. Psychological warfare, more than physical harm, is what's going to get you places . . ."
_
Cometia Prison Facility.
24:00.
Sunday, December 8.
Seymour jumped violently as he heard the door open, even beyond the spinning stupor that the drugs had him going in. About ten minutes ago, he had been given a hallucinogen with disorienting effects. However, the dose had been light enough to where Seymour could still be coherent enough to answer questions. There was momentary silence before a soft click-clack of high heels slowly approached him. He could see none of this; the room was now blanketed in a thick darkness that made it impossible for Seymour to even see himself (had he not been blindfolded). However, he could still hear. Every sound he heard echoed, and the volume was magnified. The clicking shifted position, and seemed to be circling him. But for Seymour, it was impossible to tell whether or not that was a hallucination or reality.
"New news, Seymour," came Lulu's stoic voice. It echoed horribly in Seymour's ears, and sounded slightly distorted. "You're no longer required."
Seymour flinched violently as he heard the cocking of a pistol. A few seconds later, he heard the sound of sharp footsteps and felt the cold tip of the gun's barrel pressed roughly against his temple. He could feel blood pulsing against the barrel.
"The camera's on," Lulu said quietly. "Any last words of yours will be recorded."
"And censored," Seymour muttered in a bit of a slur, still trying his hardest to lessen the pain of the gun that Lulu had trained on his head.
"If that's what you want to believe," she replied casually. Silence followed. When Seymour said nothing, she said, "Well, if this is the way you want it, I'm not going to disagree."
She pulled the trigger.
Seymour's mind blanked. He might have screamed; he wasn't sure. All conscious thought had vanished, and for a few seconds, he might as well have been dead. It seemed like an eternity later that he found himself opening his eyes. He moved his head slowly, wincing when he felt his temple dig into the barrel of the gun. Lulu pulled the trigger again, and Seymour heard it this time. A simple click, echoing a dozen times in his head. He exhaled, suddenly realizing he'd been holding his breath the whole time.
"Damn," Lulu muttered. "Seems I forgot to load the magazine." Of course, she had done no such thing. However, Seymour didn't seem to react. He just rocked slowly back and forth in his chair, a slick ribbon of drool dangling from his lower lip. "Nice scream, by the way. Perhaps you should have been a singer. Certainly far less dangerous than being a crack revolutionary, wouldn't you say?" She paused, so that the only sound in the cell was the sliding of a magazine out of a pistol. "But no matter. There's always a backup plan." She snapped her fingers before nodding at the two guards on either side of the entrance to the cell. "Do it."
At that moment, Seymour's blindfold was torn from his head. Over the course of the next few minutes, a heavy metal collar was placed around his neck and securely fastened. The collar was severely uncomfortable, and Seymour was forced to hold his head up so that his Adam's apple didn't cut off his air supply. The collar had red and black wires protruding from it at regular intervals, and these wires were attached to wristbands that had been strapped around his wrists. More wires hung from the bands, and they had been twisted around the terminals of batteries that had been placed on either side of him. The batteries themselves head wires protruding from them; they snaked their way out of the room to another power source. This process took only a couple of minutes, and when the guards were finished, they nodded at Lulu and began to move out of the room.
"Wait," Lulu said shortly. "Un-cuff him."
One of the guards raised his eyebrow. "Miss, I don't know if that's wise."
"And I don't care," Lulu retorted. "The camera's on. He's restrained. And besides, if you do the jobs you're paid for, I've got nothing to worry about, do I?"
"No ma'am," the guard replied stoically, removing the handcuffs from Seymour's wrists before they both turned and exited the room.
Lulu turned her attention to the man who had been wired. "All right, Mayor Seymour. It's just you and me now. No guards to do my dirty work for me."
Seymour snorted. "I suppose this will explode if I'm bad?" he asked, jerking his head down toward the metal band encircling his neck and wincing as the metal cut into his skin.
Lulu's eyebrows rose. "Heavens no," she replied, sounding astonished that Seymour could even suggest such a thing. "Imagine the mess that would make."
Seymour snorted again. "Touché," he muttered sarcastically.
Lulu chose not to reply as she took a long look at the prisoner, then began to make her way to the tiny interrogation table. "I can't begin to imagine the effect this must have on you," she declared, speaking as though they were nothing more than sidewalk passerby engaging in simple small talk. "One day, you're one of the most famous and charismatic mayors in Bevelle's history. And believe me, Bevelle certainly has a lot of history." She chuckled to herself, and continued. "Everyone loved you. You spoke the hearts and minds of your people, so well, in fact, that even the rest of the world turned to listen. The entire world, who had cast aside your city as nothing more than being full of religious fanatics supported by a network of well-placed people that the rest of us could only begin to comprehend."
"Weren't they right?" Seymour quietly asked.
An impressed look crossed Lulu's face. "I suppose so," she replied, chuckling. She continued. "And then, when your popularity could not have possibly gotten any higher, you revealed your true colors, shocking the rest of the world and outraging the moderates in your city. But that didn't matter. You were a God in your universe, prepared to lead your followers in a holy crusade to purge this wonderful planet of all infidels. Home and Bikanel Island would be at your mercy, and certain sects of history would idolize you as a revolutionary, a spiritual visionary and crusader, on a noble quest to rid the land of all that was unholy."
Seymour nodded, a smile of his own forming his lips. "That is exactly correct."
"I thought so," Lulu replied. By this time, she had sat down at the table and crossed her leg. She was staring intently in Seymour's direction as they talked. Then, she began shaking her head. "And now, look at you. It's all turned around on you. You're in here. Reduced to nothing more than a sensational lunatic. Your city is in chaos. The world sees you as a radical sociopath. Your dreams, your popularity, your legacy . . . gone." She sighed, an expression of mock-pity all over her face. "How sad," she finished, shaking her head.
Seymour was silent now, his head down as far as the collar would allow. His lips were pursed and the veins on his head were throbbing. The saliva ribbon had since elongated, and was now dripping in a thick puddle on the floor. It was still dark in the room, which was a severe source of annoyance for Seymour. He wanted to see her face, so that he could at least imagine disfiguring it at her words.
Lulu emitted a huge sigh. "You must be going through all kinds of Hell right now. And for this reason, for what it's worth, I want to apologize for bluffing to kill you just now. I didn't take your burdens into consideration until a moment ago. I . . . well, I'm sorry."
Seymour said nothing for a few seconds before he said, "No you're not."
She laughed a little. "That's the truest thing you've said yet," she answered, hesitating slightly before continuing. "Regardless, we can move on. No more bluffing. You can rest assured that from now on, when I say I'm going to kill you, I really will."
~~~~~ ZFC 2.6 ~~~~~
_
New Bhed International Airport.
24:17.
Sunday, December 8.
Auron quickly took a seat aboard the 767 jet, bound for Bevelle, nodding the stewardess away when she asked whether or not he was comfortable. Thankfully, he was seated in first class, in the very first row next to the window, so he only had to worry about people to the side and from the back. It would be a lie to say that he was not nervous, even bordering on paranoid. His resignation from the SIA would no doubt cause a stir with the Director, especially since he knew such sensitive information. All his clearances would be erased. He would probably be tailed. In fact, Auron wouldn't be surprised if Kinoc had men on board this plane right now. If that was the case, Auron's task would be made much, much more difficult. Now his only chance to do what he had planned on doing for days now.
It was time to track down Seymour's computer.
Once again, Auron mentally kicked himself for not going over the files he downloaded onto that computer when he had first done the mission. Even though they had extensive security protecting it, Auron was very savvy when it came to computers. It wouldn't take him too long to hack into the file, assuming that the computer and the file were still accessible. Once he was there, everything would be simple. It was just getting there unharmed and undetected that would be tricky. There was also that one factor that was always an unknown and always a cause for worry: time. Auron had been running over possibilities and scenarios in his mind for the last hour, trying to figure out what to do in what order. He had come up with several ideas, none of which he trusted all that much. However, there was one that stood out from the others, and this plan was the one he had decided to use.
He looked around him once more, checking his surroundings for anybody who looked like a tail. Finding nothing that raised any of his red flags, he waited until a particularly large group of people boarded the plane (so that they would add noise, thus interfering with any attempt to listen in) before pulling out his private cell phone and dialing. Holding it to his ear, he waited as the phone rang once, twice, three times. Finally on the fourth ring, when Auron was just about to shut the phone, his contact picked up.
"Yeah? Wakka here."
"This is Auron speaking."
"Auron! It's been awhile, ya? How've you been?"
"Better," was the reply. "How's Tidus?"
"I talked with him a day or so ago. He seemed okay. He was on a date."
Auron briefly recalled leaving money on the counter for Tidus for something that sounded like that, but he didn't press the matter. There were currently more important things on his mind.
"I need a favor, Wakka."
"Shoot."
Auron paused and sighed before asking his question. "How high do your SIA security clearances go?"
There was a brief pause before he responded. "As high as yours, I think. Why?"
"Good. Go to my house and open the safe. The combination's under the flowerpot in the kitchen windowsill. Inside you'll find another card. Take it and keep it. Don't get thrown by whose it is, just keep it."
"Got it," Wakka said. "What's up?"
Auron paused. "Book the next flight to Bevelle and I'll tell you."
~~~~~ ZFC 2.6 ~~~~~
"We're the best at what we do. Miss, we deal with only the most ruthless and the most cunning of human beings. Seymour is, no doubt, no different. There's really only one thing you need to remember above everything else. With people like him, it's not as important to crack him as it is to not let him crack you . . ."
_
Cometia Prison Facility.
24:25.
Sunday, December 8.
"Do you know what that is, Seymour?" Lulu nodded at the silver ring around the prisoner's neck.
"I'm at a loss," Seymour said carelessly.
"It's a high-tech shock collar. You've heard of them, no doubt. Dogs wear them."
"Point taken."
Lulu pulled a small remote from her pocket and rested it on the table. The remote was silver, like the collar, and about the size of a small TV remote. A button, a switch and a large black dial adorned the remote's front panel. The front end was pointed straight at Seymour's collar. It sat on the table, motionless, harmless. For the moment.
"This is your last chance, my friend," Lulu stated. At hearing the words 'my friend', Seymour chuckled softly. "Remember what we discussed. Nothing I say is false." She paused, waiting for Seymour's reaction. There was none, so she continued. "This is how it works. We start off as though we're having a normal conversation. If you're willing, that's all we'll have. You won't even feel this collar. But the moment you start . . . misbehaving, you get shocked. The shocks get stronger and longer each time I use it. If you disobey enough times, the electricity will kill you. Do you understand?"
Seymour rocked for a few seconds, used to the echoes by now. "Sounds like fun," he drawled.
Lulu said nothing to this sarcastic remark, instead picking up the remote and flipping the switch. "Let's begin. We'll start simple." She leaned forward, producing a photograph of the second missile striking the stadium. "Were you responsible for this attack?"
Seymour looked at the picture before nodding. "Yes, I was."
Lulu nodded. "The first missile did not hit the Al Bhed players' bench, as you know," she continued. "It hit the Top Box. Was this your intended target?"
Seymour shook his head. "No," he replied. "That shot missed. I had two shots fired in case that occurred."
"I see," Lulu replied. "But I still don't fully understand your motive for attacking the stadium, of all places. Why not attack something more . . . important? There were plenty of other targets. Different targets . . . I don't really want to say 'better' targets, but you know what I mean, right?"
"Why did I attack the stadium and not something else?" Seymour asked.
Lulu nodded. "Right," she replied.
Seymour sighed. "Good question," he said. "Intelligent question. I like that." He paused. "It was an announcement. I wanted to draw attention to the fact that my ambitions were not just concentrated on Al Bhed in Home, but on Al Bhed across the globe. That I was not afraid to strike anywhere, even the great city of Zanarkand." He sardonically emphasized the word 'great'.
Lulu shook her head. "Twisted," she muttered. "You are utterly insane."
"You call it what you want," Seymour countered. "I'm the only one telling the truth."
Lulu smiled. "Well, your delusions of prophecy aside, everything you've said seems to make sense. Now we move onto the interesting part." She paused for dramatic effect before leaning closer and nearly whispering, "Funding your crusade seems like it would be quite a problem. But you had enough money to last for months, didn't you? It was quite impressive." She paused again before smirking and leaning back. "Time to make me believe you have a boss. One with a lot of money."
Seymour blinked, obviously caught off-guard. "Money?" he repeated dumbly.
"Yes, the 687 million gil that magically appeared in your secure Kilikan account that was seized a few days ago," she replied. "You see, we've checked pretty much everywhere. Your other accounts, even the Al Bhed Mafia. There's nothing." Seymour was about to open his mouth to respond before Lulu cut him off. "Actually, forget that. I'm not interested so much in where the money came from as I am in who gave it to you in the first place. Obviously whoever's controlling the purse strings is very powerful. And I think you know who it is." She leaned forward abruptly, to whisper in his ear. "So you're going to tell me."
"I have no boss. I work alone," Seymour said. "At the top. This operation was risky enough without having to rely so heavily on other people. I didn't want to take that chance. The money was my own, funds that I had set aside for this very reason."
Lulu, who had been watching him up close the entire time, leaned back once again, shaking her head with a disappointed look on her face. She reached for the remote and pressed the large button in the center. Seymour instantly began to twitch from the electric shock. Her thumb depressed the button for roughly half a second before she let up and Seymour stilled. He quickly shook his head to shake off the feeling and looked up at Lulu, anger flashing in his eyes, and the veins on his head throbbing once again.
"Nice try, Seymour," Lulu said. "Even common sense tells me there's no way to 'set aside' that much money. We know you weren't working alone. All I need is to hear it from you. Now, who's your boss?"
"I don't have a boss," Seymour snapped.
Lulu pressed the button again, for roughly two seconds this time. "You went downhill fast," she observed casually, letting her finger off the button. "Then again, I should be happy you were honest for as long as you were. Politicians so often believe their lies as truth that it eventually becomes impossible to tell the difference."
"This coming from a government attorney?" Seymour retorted. "Tell me Lulu, how many times have your pants caught fire since you became a lawyer?"
Lulu pressed the button again. "I also zap you for bad jokes," she replied afterward. Then, she turned the dial on the remote. "It's going to hurt worse now, so I recommend staying away from the humor," she added. "Who are you working for?" This time, Seymour didn't reply. "It's a simple question. Hurry up. I don't have all night."
"I work only for Yevon," Seymour replied. "I assume that's who you mean."
Lulu once again shocked Seymour, holding the button for about five seconds. This time, he convulsed more violently, and was twitching a bit even after Lulu had stopped.
Lulu's voice was quiet, almost a whisper. "Who were you working for?"
"I already told you," Seymour said. "My answer does not change. And even if I was lying, what would I get out of confessing the truth?"
"Merciful death," Lulu replied. "A fair trial."
Seymour laughed. "Which comes first?"
Lulu shook her head, gazing at him somewhat sadly. "You're really not going to tell me, are you?" she said.
"No," he answered, almost giggling. "No, I'm not."
She sighed slowly. "All right." She said quietly, sounding resolute. "You're finished . . . you know what happens next."
Before Seymour could protest, she put her left finger on the shock button of the remote and her right hand over the dial to turn up the power. Seymour once again began twitching as the electricity coursed through his body. He made no noise; the only sound that could be heard in the room was that of the soft hum of the flow of the electricity from the batteries and into the prisoner.
Lulu wasted no time. "Who were you working for?"
"I told you already," Seymour replied through the shocks. He could barely speak.
"Wrong," Lulu snapped, turning up the dial on the remote so that more power flowed through the wires. "Who were you working for? Tell me or you're a dead man!"
"I told you!" Seymour hissed. "I've told you all I will!"
Lulu cranked the power even more, feeling something snap in her head. "Who the fuck were you working for?" She slapped him across the face. "Tell me, goddamn you! Tell me!"
Seymour, by this time, could not talk anymore, there were too many volts coursing through his body. Sweat glistened on his forehead, and his teeth were clenched to keep himself from screaming. He convulsed violently, and his eyes were clenched shut as tight as humanly possible. Lulu watched with a crazed look on her face, her increasingly shaking hand clasping the remote so hard her already pale hand was stark white. The hand poised over the power knob on the remote was ready to turn it to the final notch. Once there, the dose of electricity would be lethal.
But her hand remained frozen in place. She didn't turn the dial that last notch. Instead, she leaned closer to Seymour so that she would be able to whisper into the trembling man's ear. She didn't want to have the people watching the cameras hear what she had to say.
"Tell me," she said in a shaky whisper. "I can't do this to you. Help me, please. I can't do this to you . . ."
Seymour opened his eyes just as the electricity stopped flowing through his veins. He twitched violently, trying his hardest to ignore the immense pain he felt all through his body. Though it was almost unbearable to move, he lifted his head to look into Lulu's face. What he saw greatly surprised him. She looked the most desperate he had ever seen anybody. Her eyes were begging and pleading with him to say something, anything, that she could use to get herself out. Seymour stared at her for the longest time before nodding slowly, a smile mixed with resolve, amusement and pain on his face.
"So . . ." he managed to say. "It would seem that the enemy of my enemy is my friend . . ."
~~~~~ ZFC 2.6 ~~~~~
Three hours earlier
Seymour stared up into his eyes, hatred etched into every line of his face. "You betrayed me, you backstabbing bastard," he snarled.
"I've done nothing of the sort. I'll clear your name; just give her the confession that we've prepared for you. In little time, you'll be a free man again."
Seymour snorted and spat at the man's feet. "You lie. I have no reason to trust you."
The man shrugged. "Suit yourself. But if you reveal so much as a tiny fraction of the truth, your days on Spira will become very finite indeed."
~~~~~ ZFC 2.6 ~~~~~
_
Home, The Hotel Dune.
02:01.
Sunday, December 8.
Lulu stared blankly ahead, mind and body completely numb. A small cassette tape was clutched firmly in her hand. She could barely remember anything after she had shut off the power to Seymour's shock collar. She could remember him confessing to her, in great detail, how he had been funded by others in his city's government. He told her that the money came from various public works programs, in amounts small enough that they wouldn't be noticed by any inspections. She had also been told that his Deputy Mayor, Tromell, had been the one who managed all the funds, and he was able to cover his tracks with some of his own personal funds. However, after Seymour had finished, he jerked his head down to his right hand, where Lulu could plainly see that he had his fingers pointedly crossed.
Seymour had leaned over to whisper in her hear. "Move," he hissed. "Move so that you're blocking the camera." She instinctively turned to look for the camera, but Seymour quickly grabbed her. "Don't look." She froze. "You're fine now."
Then, she saw his hand point down, and there she saw it: the tape she now had in her hand resting next to the chair. She reached over, pretending to disconnect the wires on the battery before reaching down to slip the tape down her shirt. In case she was searched on the way out, she hid it in her cleavage, which was more than large enough to conceal the tape.
She tried to get up, but Seymour continued to hold her down. "Your biggest weakness is showing that you're weak. And you did, in front of me and in the sight of Yevon, our holy God. For that, I'm willing to make my ultimate sacrifice." She looked at him quizzically. Then, he smiled and said in a normal voice, "Besides, I have my own reasons."
That was the last thing he said to her.
Now, in the hotel room, she slowly unwrapped her fingers from around the tape, staring at the small black device. She had yet to listen to it, but everything was ready. She had a cassette player on the small desk at which she sat, ready to play. Since the time she left Cometia, she had been trying to figure out what Seymour's "sacrifice" was. However, she had no doubt that it would be outlined on the tape. Which, for some reason, she was hesitant, almost afraid, to listen to.
Finally, she shook off her nerves and moved her hand and slowly popped the tape into the cassette player. Slowly, she snapped the lid shut and pushed the play button. The twenty seconds of silence that followed seemed to take an age, but finally there was the sound of Seymour's voice. It was emotionless and matter-of-fact. Even still, the first words he spoke were enough to send a huge chill down Lulu's spine.
"My name . . . is Seymour Guado. And if you're listening to this recording . . . I am a dead man."
Hm. What does he mean by that . . .
. . . you'll find out in the final chapter of Part Two, chapter 14, entitled The Cost of Truth, when:
(a) Auron returns to Bevelle, performing a mission against his own government. There he learns the cost of truth.
(b) Paine and Rikku return, with Paine's next hit threatening to shatter what's left of Rikku's innocence. She learns the cost of truth.
(c) Lulu listens to Seymour's audio confession. She realizes the horrible cost of truth.
(d) What is the cost of truth? Braska and Cid find out.
(e) Everything changes.
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