Day of Disaster: REVISED

by Queen000

The day that would soon decide the fate of the world is upon us. When the evidence of a murder leads to the man who once saved the world from Ultimecia, will it bring about a war that could rival that of Adel's reign? Revamped! W00T!

14. Hour 14

03/04/08: A little over six months later, I finally update this story! Sorry it took so long everyone (that is, if I still have readers for this story). A few things happened that weren' entirely within my control, which included writer's block and the fact that I am back to job hunting again. Fortunately, I've worked passed my writer's block and managed to finish this chapter. At any rate, I hope anyone who reads this new chapter enjoys it.

03/18/08: For some reason, the format at the beginning of this chapter screwed up, so this is just a note to let everyone know that the problem's been fixed.

---

The following takes place between 3pm and 4pm.
Events occur in real time.

He felt strangely out of place amongst the white-clad hospital staff wearing their Galbadian issued uniforms, but it had been a request for him to come down and meet with one of the patients. The fact that the sterol environment made him feel like an outcast would just have to shut up and deal with it.

He hated these robes more than anything else and wondered how Laguna got away with not having to wear them. It was an Estharian custom for the higher ranking officials or businessmen and women to dress in them, yet somehow their highest ranking personnel managed to get by looking like some half-rushed bum. It was ironic in a strange sort of way.

Then again, Laguna Loire was the walking definition of strange.

Still, Kiros proceeded down the white-walled hall, nodding occasionally to the doctors and nurses who passed him by before he reached the desired room. Taking in a deep breath, he released it slowly; reminding himself that he'd seen worse scrapes than what he was about to see. Hell, he'd fallen off a cliff and had managed to survive. The fact that he had been the best off compared to his comrades at the time didn't matter.

The door slid open, allowing him into the room and he stood just beyond the threshold, taking in the patient.

To be honest, James looked horrible; sort of like a half-bandaged mummy from one of those tacky horror films Laguna and Ward always made him watch. The top of his head was covered with it, though it wasn't keeping any hair at bay considering the other man was bald. The dressing robe he wore was white with black spots on it, like someone took a needle and decided to decorate out of sheer boredom. His arms were wrapped in the same sterol bandages, and Kiros could assume his chest was too – most of the burns had hit his upper abdominal region.

It was safe to say that James was lucky to have survived.

"Thanks for meeting with me," James said, jumping straight into it. Whatever he wanted to talk to him about must have been important.

"I was coming down to see you anyway," Kiros shrugged. "Now, why did you call me here?"

James stared at him for a moment; almost as though he were sizing him up, but after a moment he started talking. "I need to ask for a favour."

"What exactly?"

"I want to be put back on active duty."

Kiros stared at him, wondering if James was joking, but when he found no indication, he allowed himself to speak. "Um… have you actually taken a look at yourself in the mirror lately?"

"I have, and I don't care." James responded. "Sitting idle isn't in my job description."

"You were just involved in a plane crash!" Kiros sudden snapped. It was like talking to Laguna all over again; trying to convince him that his hair-brain scheme was going to get himself killed when he'd just managed to get out of trouble in the first place. Then again, how often did that actually work? "You were unconscious for about four hours after that; hell the doctors say you should still be unconscious. And you want to just climb out of bed and get back to work?"

James nodded immediately without hesitation. "Lying in this bed makes me a civilian. According to the cabinet, I'm the only link to what took place on that plane and I can't even remember it. But I can't sit back and wait for those memories to come back; I have to take some action and prevent more bombings from happening. I need to be a part of this."

Kiros didn't hear anymore after that; something had just managed to sink in and he frowned thoughtfully. When he didn't respond, James seemed to get upset. "Dammit, Kiros, are you even listening to me anymore?"

"Something's wrong," Kiros said, his mouth going dry. The expression on James' face went blank; he'd obviously been blind-sided.

"What do you mean?" He asked after a second.

"The holographic projectors haven't come on for at least an hour." Kiros said, searching around the room for the phone.

"Yeah, so? What about it, it's not like you're expecting a…" James suddenly caught himself and Kiros knew he'd realized what was wrong. "You're right, something is wrong."

"Consider yourself back on active duty." Kiros said. "I think we might need the help."

He didn't even wait for a response; simply running out of the room and leaving the Chief of Security behind.

---

"The evacuation is progressing smoothly, considering the situation." Deilia reported. She was stationed in a nearby town, and in the background of the holographic projection were civilians being escorted out of the town by Estharian soldiers and other personnel. "This town is almost done; the residence should arrive in the Capital in roughly an hour."

"Keep on the line," Laguna said, frowning thoughtfully. "I'll be speaking to the cabinet as well as to Garden and Galbadia, and I want you to hear this."

"Um, sir?" Deilia agreed, her expression giving away her confusion.

"You'll know what I'm talking about in a minute." Laguna snapped sharply; he didn't have much time to explain and he wanted everyone who needed to know hear him out. Deilia simply nodded in understanding before three screens popped up around her own. The Galbadian President was to her left and positioned in the center, with Garden's Commander on top and the cabinet to the left of the President.

"I noticed something just when my security personnel contacted me," Laguna started, but Caraway but him off.

"I noticed it as well." Conrad nodded in the background.

"It seems odd though," Jared pointed out among his peers.

Laguna leaned back into his seat, wondering just what the hell Squall was up to now. He'd made it perfectly clear what he wanted to happen and the consequences of it not taking place, but he was suddenly going back on his part. It didn't seem like him at all.

"It's been an hour." Laguna reiterated. "All around, it's been a little over an hour since the last bombing, but there haven't been any more since then. And Esthar's supply of missiles isn't all that limited."

"So why stop if his demands haven't been met?" Caraway asked, filling in the question.

"It's not like him to just abort this abruptly, unless this was just a distraction for something else." Conrad said.

"If he wanted something else, wouldn't he have just come out and said something?" Deilia asked for the first time since the conference started. "It wouldn't make any sense if this was all just a distraction."

"It would actually," Conrad said. "An operation is best conducted if all eyes are pointed elsewhere. The bombings would divert our attention away from any operation he'd want left alone."

"But he'd know the risks of such an action," Christine stated, positioned to the left of Jared. "He'd know everyone was looking for him."

"Which would have added to the distraction," Laguna said. "It's a brilliant move, but we need to figure out what it is he wanted to hide from us. We might have been able to ask Cid had he stayed on as headmaster."

The leading officials of their respective countries had been alerted of the breach in Garden and the resulted dismissal of Headmaster Kramer. Even now, Conrad stared down – probably at his desk – and sighed. "I'm beginning to regret my decision. We could have obtained possible leads if he was still part of the Garden."

"No, it's not you're fault; it's Cid's." Laguna waved off. "If he'd wanted Almasy back in the Garden so badly then he should have—"

"Loire, you're brilliant!" Caraway suddenly interrupted.

Laguna blinked stupidly. "I am?"

"Headmaster Kramer might have been able to shed some light on some things, but we know Almasy would be able to." Caraway explained. "It's a well-known fact that they trained together; of course he'd know how Leonhart thought."

"…Oh…" Laguna said, noting how dumb the response sounded. He hadn't even been thinking about that. "So if Almasy can tell us what we need to know, then we're one step closer to figuring out Squall's… I mean Leonhart's plan."

No one commented on the slip up, though Conrad appeared thoughtful before speaking. "I'm not sure Almasy would be willing to help; if we let on that he could help us, he'd obviously want to make a deal. Quite possibly even to remove from the record his war crimes."

"Well, if he won't tell us willingly, we could just interrogate him." Caraway stated bitterly. It was no secret the Galbadians were all for persecuting the former cadet for the recent Sorceress War.

"It's kind of ironic, now that you think about it," Jared added, changing the subject slightly. "We needed Leonhart's help to stop Almasy and the Sorceress from taking over, and now we need Almasy's help in order to stop Leonhart."

"And if you look at it in that perspective, Almasy can't possibly refuse." Laguna said, nodding to himself slightly. "The two of them are rivals; have been since they first attended Garden. I wouldn't be at all surprised if Almasy has been following this whole situation from the start, simply because Leonhart was involved."

"Well, I can't guarantee anything," Conrad said at great length. "But I will try to persuade him to cooperate."

"Better yet," Caraway said. "Why not continue this conference and we can all ask him what we need to know. We'd have the intimidation factor—"

"Both Almasy and 'intimidation' should not be used in the same sentence." Conrad interrupted. "Unless you mean he is the one who is intimidating rather than intimidated."

"Still, it would be better if we could all talk to him at the same time." Caraway said.

"Are you saying that you don't trust me?"

"No, he's not saying that at all," Laguna interrupted before things could spiral out of control. "He's just saying that we'd all like to sit in and hear what he has to say, right Caraway?"

Caraway nodded in response and Conrad sighed, seemingly calming down. "Alright, I'll get him up here. We'll reconvene this meeting once Almasy is present."

Everyone nodded in response before the contact was disconnected.

---

03:06:24

---

It hadn't been very long since they'd started walking through the forest. The best he could figure, they were heading north, but beyond that it felt like he was being led in the dark. No one talked as they moved; the only sounds were the crunch of leaves as boot-clad feet manoeuvred their way along the ground, and the rustling of branches and brush along their way. Crickets chirped loudly, the sounds of night amplified by the silence of the group.

Despite being a prisoner to the terrorists though, Squall couldn't help but wonder why they hadn't bound his arms at the very least. He supposed it was because they knew he wasn't going to run or resist – not with the possibility that they were holding Ellone prisoner as well – but even still there was such a thing as being too laxed about a situation. Squall was a threat to them (or so it seemed), and yet the only real thing that was uncomfortable was the man behind him prodding him between the shoulder blades with the barrel of the submachine gun he held. It was only mildly irritating, but the man insisted on prodding the exact same spot every few minutes or so.

Soon enough though, they managed to enter a clearing, where they stopped so suddenly, Squall was barely able to prevent himself from bumping into the man in front of him. When no one made a move to continue on, Squall frowned; he wasn't sure whether this was a good thing or now. "Why are we stopping?" he asked.

No one answered and Squall noticed the man who had done all the talking reaching into his back pocket, producing a simple looking cellphone. "Why are we stopping?" Squall asked again, only to receive a hit to the back of the head with the barrel of the very weapon that had been prodding him.

"The fuck up." The man behind him all but snarled. Squall assumed he meant 'shut the fuck up', but didn't bother to correct him. He couldn't be all that positive that was what was said anyway – his Estharian accent was thicker than what he was used to hearing.

The man with the cellphone dialled a number and placed the earpiece next to the body part it was named after, not saying anything, and his features carefully blank. It was almost as though he didn't want to give away some kind of secret.

Only a second after he dialled, he placed a hand over the mouthpiece before directing his attention towards to other terrorists – a man and woman. "Janine, Carter; go back and grab the bikes. We don't want any unwanted attention."

Both of them nodded in response and left without a word. Soon afterwards, the man removed his hand from the phone and spoke into the mouthpiece. "It's me."

He paused; probably listening to something on the other end, but soon afterwards he spoke again. "Don't worry; we got the package. Hope you don't mind damaged goods though; had to rough him up a bit before we could grab him. Bunch of my guys suffered pretty bad injuries – three of them are out cold and everyone else is all but limping."

He paused again and Squall frowned, not liking the looks that were crossing everyone else's faces. He hadn't been hurt that badly; with the latest encounter, they hadn't touched him at all. He'd been worried about how to get himself caught and find their base until they'd mentioned his sister, but even then had he not been planning on surrendering, the result would have been slightly different.

It was then that he realized just exactly what was going to happen and he sighed lightly. If they were going to do what he thought they were going to do, he wasn't just going to stand there. They already had him as a prisoner, but he sure as hell wasn't going to lay down and let them beat the crap out of him.

"…yeah, he's still alive." The man continued his conversation. "Damn near out of it though; think we hit him a little too hard. If you ask me, the shit deserves it, what with all he's put us through these last few months."

He muttered something into the mouthpiece before finally hanging up and turning around to face the group of them. Squall had already dropped into a weary crouching position, preparing himself should he get attacked.

The people around him grinned darkly, but none of them made a move while the man with the phone started laughing. "Ah, so you understand what's gonna happen. It's only fair; it took us such a long time to catch you, after all. Of course they'd expect casualties and wounded, but if we told them we couldn't even touch you it'd make us look bad. You understand, right?"

Squall didn't say anything; opting to remain ready for their attack. The man sighed in response. "I knew you weren't very talkative, but this is getting ridiculous. And I'd be careful if I were you. Each hit you retaliate with will just ricochet onto your precious sister. Wouldn't wanna have to bruise that pretty face of hers, but then again it'd be your fault, not mine."

Squall grit his teeth in response to the threat, clenching his fists so tight they hurt through the leather gloves. It was a dirty tactic, but he couldn't risk them hurting Ellone if he resisted. He took in a deep breath before releasing it slowly, unclenching his fists and relaxing his stance slightly. He was stuck and he didn't like it, but he'd just have to deal with it.

"Smart kid," the man nodded and Squall sensed more than heard one of the bigger members of the group step forward. "Don't worry; they're sending a car for us to use to get back, so we'll make this quick. Can't promise it won't hurt though."

He laughed at the joke, but Squall didn't have time to think about it as something hard collided with the back of his head, forcing almost blindingly bright stars to dance in his vision. He staggered forward, caught off guard by the sudden attack and nearly stumbled onto one knee, even as the one standing to his left raised his leg and kicked him in the stomach. Squall grit his teeth as the onslaught of pain nearly overcame him – his injuries from the plane crash still had yet to fully heal themselves. He was able to breathe through his nose before a jab from the right knocked his chin upwards, forcing him to look up into the sky. Just as he was recovering from that, though, a sudden wave of pain came from his lower regions and the SeeD was forced to lie onto the ground in fetal position, blinking back the tears from the sudden shot to the groin he'd taken.

"Wow! He went down so quick from that one!" he was able to hear the man with the phone laugh through the haze of pain and shallow breathing. "John! That was a shit move…do it again."

Squall couldn't concentrate on much else after that, with the surrounding terrorists kicking, hitting and stomping hard onto him. It was an effort to try and block the shots aimed at both head and groin, but it didn't stop the waves of pain from adding onto each other. He was gritting his teeth so tightly together that he was almost afraid they were going to break, but after an exceptionally painful kick to the stomach, he opened his mouth in reflex and coughed up some blood, staining the surrounding grass red. It wasn't very dark; no internal injuries, which was about the only good thing that'd come from this whole situation.

Finally, someone shoved their foot underneath his stomach – he'd rolled onto it in order to stop them from kicking at it – before lifting him up like they were kicking up a ball and kicking him into an adjacent tree, causing him to cough up more blood. It dribbled along his chin and dripped onto his shirt, but he used the sleeve of his arm in order to wipe it away.

His breathing much shallower than it had been, he looked up when a shadow fell over him, cradling his stomach with his left arm. The man with the cellphone stood over him with his arms folded across his chest, his expression set into a grim glare. "Get back up." He said.

Squall didn't comply at first; he wasn't at all positive he could stand. But after a moment, he grabbed a hold of the tree behind him with his free hand before lifting himself back up onto his feet. It was difficult having to support his own weight by one hand, but eventually he was able to stand, albeit hunched over. He also found that he was having difficulty focussing, but he strained himself on being able to see his surroundings.

"Didn't think that'd keep you down," he sneered before throwing a right hook that caught Squall off guard. It almost knocked him off his feet again, but he managed to maintain his grip of the tree and simply stumbled, attempting to reign in his breathing in between spitting blood out of his mouth. When he was able to, he turned back around, glaring at each of them in the hopes that it'd piss them all off. He wouldn't have to feel what they were doing to him if he was unconscious and, although he would have rather seen the location of the base himself, he was willing to make sacrifices.

"Real brave of you," he managed to rasp out in between breaths, the words dripping with sarcasm. "All of you guys up against one person who can't even fight back or defend himself. Yeah, you're big strong men alright."

His vision swam for a moment and a lapse of dizziness threatened to overtake him but he fought it in favour of some verbal jeering. They hadn't said he couldn't fight back with words.

However, that was all it took; the man with the phone balled a fist and swung again, forcing the SeeD back onto the ground this time. Squall spat onto the ground again before finally collapsing atop the grass and dirt, his surroundings dimming until he knew no more.

---

Rinoa frowned, noticing that the signal had paused just a little further north of their location. Having been unable to deal with sitting on her hands and waiting for something to happen, she'd opted to keep an eye on Squall's signal, just so long as someone taught her the controls. Rinoa was by no stretch of the imagination stupid, but at the same time she wasn't a miracle worker.

Still, they'd been stopped for a few minutes now; it was almost as though they were waiting for a rendezvous.

Before she could voice her concerns, though, Quistis hung up her cellphone and everyone's focus shifted to the former Instructor. "That was Zell; apparently, the squad leader doesn't quite trust them after they ran off after the terrorists. She's sending them to the next town while she personally brings the suspect to G-Garden."

"Then all we really need is the frequency the Squad Leader's using." Seifer shrugged, still glued to his computer screen.

"I can get that from when she contacted the Commander." Irvine said and got right to work.

Suddenly the phone started ringing; everyone immediately checked their cell phones and came up empty before Quistis must've realized it was the landline. Once she picked it up, the ringing stopped. "Trepe." She stated briskly. She was silent after a moment before speaking again. "May I ask why?"

Again she was silent. Rinoa and Irvine exchanged glances, the latter shrugging at the former, while Seifer continued working on his lap top. Rinoa would've loved to see what he was working on, but the instant she would try to look over his shoulder; he'd somehow figure it out and shift so she couldn't see anything at all. She wondered how much he'd actually gotten done and if he had any suspects who he thought might be the mole, but every time she'd asked up until now, he'd just pretend she hadn't said anything.

"Alright, we'll come right up." Quistis concluded before hanging up the phone. She looked to each of them before finally speaking. "The commander wants us to speak to him about something."

"What does he want with us?" Irvine asked, but Quistis shook her head.

"No, it has nothing to do with you or Rinoa."

At this Seifer finally lifted his head from what he'd been looking for, and swivelled around to face the former Instructor. "And what the fuck does he want with me?"

"I'm not a mind reader; he just asked that the both of us meet him in his office immediately."

"He can go fuck himself." Seifer snapped. "I'm not jumping at his beck and call just cuz he fucking says so. I got important work to do."

"And if we don't want to arouse suspicion, you'll put your work on hold and accompany me upstairs so we can talk about whatever it is he wants to talk about." Quistis snapped back as she undid the lock on the door. In response, the object slid open, and Quistis turned to look back at the others.

Rinoa figured out what she was about to say and beat her to it. "We'll look after things while you're gone."

Seifer scowled at Quistis before finally folding the top of the laptop down onto the keyboard and rising to his feet, muttering curses as he moved towards the door. He shot a look at both Rinoa and Irvine in an unvoiced threat should they look at his stuff before the door slid closed behind them, the door locking a moment later.

As soon as Quistis and Seifer's footfalls were out of earshot, Rinoa scrambled for the laptop, but Irvine stepped into her path. "He's gonna kill you if he figures out you've been snooping into his stuff."

"Then he should have taken it with him." Rinoa said, smiling brightly before trying to manoeuvre passed the sharpshooter. He stepped in the way again.

"Greenwood thinks it's still under lock and key, Seifer knows that." Irvine argued. "This is a big invasion of privacy."

"Oh you wanna look too and you know it." Rinoa said. "Besides, if there's a mole and Seifer knows something, don't you think it'd be fair to let us in on the big secret? It's not fair that we have to trust him when he doesn't exactly trust us, is it?"

Irvine went to comment further, but Rinoa brushed him off, looking over his shoulder and pointing out brightly. "They're moving again."

The sharpshooter turned back around in order to watch the monitor screen and Rinoa finally moved passed him in order to claim her prize. Lifting the lid up, she caught Irvine's scowling reflection in the screen. Smiling innocently, she shrugged and said, "We can't both be monitoring Squall, now can we?"

With one final disapproving look, Irvine turned to take up Rinoa's original job, while Rinoa tapped on the keyboard. Her smile faded when she realized there was a password she needed to type in.

Rats. Knew it was too easy.

---

She stalked back into the command room, knowing that he probably didn't want to see him after their last encounter, but not really caring. She pushed the doors open, allowing them to clank against the walls loudly, knowing that it would piss him off, as she moved towards the front desk, the chair swivelling around. She stopped a few feet ahead, looking into the false face of the man she was about to report to. "I guess my men aren't complete screw ups after all."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Cobatchi asked wearily. Damn, she'd been expecting to get a rise out of him.

"It means the pain in both our asses has been found and he's on his way as we speak."

"How badly injured is he?" Cobatchi asked, leaning back into his chair.

Double damn; he'd caught the smirk on her face. "He'll live," Elaina stated evasively. "He's gonna be walking funny for a while though."

Cobatchi simply nodded in her direction and swivelled back around, as though he were dismissing her. Elaina's lip curled in response. "Hey, let's get one thing straight here, okay? I'm not one of your lackeys who you can tell to go piss on the street and expect them to do just that. I'm higher up in the chain than you are and--"

"And for the moment, you're working for me," Cobatchi interrupted, his tone irritatingly calm.

"That doesn't mean you can go overstepping your bounds." Elaina snapped. "Once this is over, you go back to being the go-to man for cute little gadgets. "

"But in the meantime, this is my operation, and you'll do well to know your place." Cobatchi stated calmly.

Elaina stomped her foot irritably. "Just because you're Tannel's favourite doesn't give you the right to treat me like shit."

"Are you frustrated because you think Tannel likes me more than you," Cobatchi said as he turned back to look at her in all seriousness. "Or because you think he's wrong?"

"First of all, you are Tannel's favourite. There's no question about that, so stop playing dumb."

"And secondly?"

Elaina sighed in frustration, running her hand through her shoulder-length hair. "Tannel is wrong. Especially about this."

"It's not our place to question it." Cobatchi sighed as if he'd heard this mantra a thousand times.

"But it is our job." Elaina said. At Cobatchi's confounded expression, Elaina elaborated. "The whole team who defeated the Sorceress four months ago is responsible for Adel's murder; Leonhart's the man who pulled the trigger. You would think Tannel would want him to burn for it, but instead, he wants us to bring the bastard to him alive. Doesn't that sound weird to you?"

"Yes." Cobatchi answered after a moment's thought.

Elaina's expression lit up, but it fell back when Cobatchi continued. "But Tannel is in charge. If this is what he wants, then we have no choice but to comply."

"Okay, but you do agree that it's weird." Elaina pressed. Cobatchi just gave her that irritatingly calm expression before she sighed in exasperation and continued. "He's a big danger to this operation. You've got the world convinced that you're him. It'd make much more sense to kill him and let you continue the charade."

"What Tannel wants with Leonhart is his business," Cobatchi stated simply. "And if he doesn't want to inform us, then that's his call. In the long term, the decision is his to make."

"But short term it's affecting us all," Elaina snapped. "I'm not the only one complaining about not killing him; I've overheard my men wondering the same thing. I don't know about you, but I'm not prepared to follow orders blindly."

"Then you're not suitable for your position," Cobatchi retorted. "If you can't follow orders from your superiors without questioning them, then you really don't have a place here."

Elaina frowned deeply, chewing the inside of her lip to keep herself from screaming at the man in front of her. He understood all right; she could tell that by his expression – he just didn't care.

Turning on her heel abruptly, Elaina removed herself from the room; her hands clenched into tight fists as she sent murderous glares towards anyone who tried to approach her or were just in the way.

I'll find out what the big secret is, she thought to herself. Just you wait and see.

---

03:19:04

---

Kiros hung his cellphone and continued down the hallway. He knew that allowing James to return to duty wasn't exactly his call, but honestly they needed the manpower. He'd deal with the consequences later. Fortunately, he'd managed to sucker the secretary into delivering the news to Laguna once his conference was over. He didn't know how long that would be, but it'd be enough time to at least come up with a decent excuse.

Just as he turned the corner and prepared to enter the elevator at the end of the hall, he saw a familiar blonde cabinet member enter the lobby and signal for him to hold the doors. Kiros did just that, figuring she'd have something to say about his decision as well; when he'd told her about it, she hadn't seemed too happy about it, but he'd excused himself from the call in order to leave Laguna the message. Now it looked like he was about to get an earful.

Fortunately, there wasn't anyone else in the elevator, so no one would be privy to their conversation.

"Before you say anything," Christine said suddenly once the doors had shut and she was inside. "This isn't about James. I understand your decision."

"But you don't accept it." Kiros stated. Christine nodded.

"But it's also James' choice and I'm not his mother."

"Deilia will be there; she'll be able to assess the situation." Kiros said. "But you said you weren't here to talk about that."

Christine nodded again before saying, "Have the tech guys found anything else on that recording?"

Kiros shook his head. "It's still garbled up. I think the glasses were damaged by the crash; the evidence we got was a little mucked up."

"What about Schipner?"

"Just that the search team recovered his body," Kiros explained. "But they did manage to narrow down the TOD; approximately ten thirty this morning."

"But that was right before the message was aired, wasn't it?" Christine asked. Kiros nodded. "But if Leonhart killed Schipner like we suspect, that would mean he'd have to be in two places at once."

"I know; if he had some kind of body double, it'd explain everything; like how he got from Galbadia to Esthar and back in time for our forces to arrest him. But…"

"But?" Christine asked when Kiros failed to continue.

"But that's not how he operates; from what I've seen and heard, he prefers to do everything himself. It's a bit arrogant if you ask me."

"So either way we've got holes in the story?" Christine asked. "Okay, I'll do some digging where I can; maybe we can sort it out and come up with something plausible."

The elevator dinged; they'd reaching Kiros' floor. He stepped out of the contraption as he spoke. "I'll look into it too. The more we understand the sooner we can concentrate on putting an end to this."

---

He removed himself from contact only a minute ago and had assured everyone involved in the conference that he would not begin questioning Almasy (once he finally got there) until he had re-established contact with each and every one of them. Pulling the phone off its cradle, which was the reason why he'd had to disconnect, he cleared his throat before speaking. "Commander Greenwood."

However, instead of the person on the opposite end, there was a voice over instructing him to hold while the caller was connected to him. Frowning, he realized it must have been an outside line, and that Xu hadn't had the chance to screen the call.

However, the moment was brief, and he recognized the voice on the opposite end. "Sir, it's Operative Sanders, reporting in. We are currently twenty minutes out from Galbadia Garden."

Normally, an operative would not have had to contact him in order to relay their ETA; however Conrad had asked it upon her to take the added step. "Once you arrive at the Garden and have met with Master Martine, contact me immediately. I must impress upon him the severity of the situation to him."

He received the affirmative and disconnected the call, right as someone knocked on his office door. He told whoever it was to enter, and sure enough it was Trepe and Almasy; the latter wearing a scowl – no doubt he'd been forced to come – but Conrad wasn't the least bit surprised. The only reason he'd even requested Trepe's presence was to make sure Almasy actually came up here. It looked as though he'd guessed correctly.

"You're just in time," Conrad greeted somewhat amicably. He was in a considerably good mood at the moment – what with everything running smoothly.

"Just in time for what, sir?" Trepe asked. Conrad ignored the SeeD and fixed his attention on Almasy.

"We'd like to ask you a few questions."

Almasy immediately looked suspicious. "We?"

Conrad immediately re-establish the connection between himself and the world leaders before leaning back into his seat, watching the puzzled expression that crossed Trepe's features and the disbelief on Almasy's. Clasping his hands together and propping his elbows on the arms of his chair, Conrad said, "Councillor, you are dismissed. You may wait outside if you wish until we're finished."

"What the fuck is this?" Almasy suddenly burst out. "A fucking interrogation!"

Trepe had been about to follow orders, but the outburst stopped her and she glared at the former cadet.

"As much as an interrogation is long overdue," President Caraway barked. "This isn't about you."

"Then I'm outta here." Almasy turned to leave the room when Conrad cleared his throat.

"You have invaluable information that we need right now," Conrad explained. "And you may recall the conditions to your stay with the Garden; you're full cooperation."

"The agreement was to follow Garden's rules," Almasy said, but before he could get into the part about Kramer, Conrad interrupted him.

"And following the Commander's orders is a part of that." Conrad sighed before leaning forward, knowing that this performance was going to have to a good one. "If we weren't in need of your assistance, do you honestly believe we would have called you up here?"

The look on Almasy's expression had changed from outraged to poker straight. He had, indeed, been trained well by SeeD; however Conrad knew the best way to ensure his assistance was a little ego stroking. To quote a phrase; it's easier to catch flies with honey than with vinegar.

"What's it about?" Almasy finally asked and Conrad internally grinned; he knew he was getting somewhere.

"It's about Leonhart," Conrad said. "His motives, what he would do given the situation and other things surrounding that."

"You should already know all that." Almasy folded his arms across his chest.

"But no one knows him as well as you do." Conrad persisted. "You were both training partners while cadets at this Garden, and because you were on opposite ends of the previous war, you should know what he would do in most, if not any, situation."

It was a few moments before Almasy said anything and, for a moment, Conrad was concerned that he would suddenly change his mind – it wasn't above anything the former terrorist would've done. But finally, he did speak. "We know he's droppin' bombs on all your asses. Didn't actually think he'd have the stones."

"But he's suddenly stopped," Loire spoke up before Conrad could say anything. "And we want to know why."

"He was probably hiding something," Almasy said, shrugging. His expression had shifted to boredom.

"Yeah, we want to know what he's hiding," Loire persisted.

"We've already ascertained that the killings in Esthar and the bombings were a diversion." Caraway explained, his tone chipped. "But we haven't even begun to fathom what his true motives are."

"So you want me to get inside his head." Almasy said and Conrad could tell he was trying to be as difficult as possible. His hands were beneath his desk and he clenched them nervously, wondering if something had gone wrong with the operation.

"That's why you're here," Loire said, leaning back into his seat. "According to Commander Greenwood, you're the only one he's had the longest ties with, so you'd have the best chance at figuring him out."

"Hey, I said I hadn't thought he'd have the stones to bomb those places," Almasy said. "What makes you think I can get inside his head?"

"Everyone has tells, Almasy," Conrad spoke up; the first signs of panic stirring in his stomach. He really was trying to be difficult. "As much as we try to hide them, there's no way to do so completely. You would know those tells."

"Hey, Cid told me to keep my nose out of it."

"But I doubt you actually followed those orders."

Almasy shrugged. "First time for everything, I guess. All I know about the situation is what I heard from the radios; that someone killed some fuckers in Esthar," at this, Loire's expression faltered slightly, "Puberty boy was held responsible, and that he's bombing other places for some fucking reason."

"He wants Esthar's government to stand down," Loire explained, though Conrad could tell he'd taken offence at the careless way Almasy had summed everything up. "At least, that's what was demanded of us in the first broadcast."

"Then Esthar's probably a mute topic," Almasy shrugged. He was clearly becoming agitated. "I don't fucking know what goes through his fucking head; I just trained with the fucker. I was the Sorceress' fucking lap-dog, remember?"

Conrad could tell that Almasy was loathe to admitting that little fact, but chose to not comment as he continued. "It was the Sorceress who called all the shots; she knew what he was gonna do before he did it, not me. I just followed orders and stood in his way. Why not ask her a thing or two?"

Before anyone could say anything, Almasy proved how rhetorical that question had been, "Oh, right. Completely forgot. She's dead. That's why the Galbadian assholes are all over my ass."

Caraway rose to his feet at the jeer. "I've heard just about enough out of you."

"Yeah, what are you gonna do about it?" Almasy snapped right back. "Recline in that cushy chair and sick your army dogs on me? Risk another international crisis while you've got terrorists on everyone's asses? I don't fucking think so!"

"That's enough!" Conrad said, raising his voice before Loire could interject. "It appears that we aren't going to get anywhere with this meeting, so I suggest we just continue to survey the situation. We'll reconvene the instant we receive some new intelligence."

Conrad turned to glare at Almasy, who glared right back at him. "You're dismissed."

"About fucking time," Almasy snapped back before storming out of the room while Esthar and Galbadian contacts disconnected. Trepe, who had somehow been forgotten throughout the chaos, followed after the former cadet.

As soon as he was certain he was alone, he allowed the frustrated façade to drop and leaned back in his chair, chewing on his lip. He gathered that Almasy had been annoyed by his sudden requested presence, be a lot of it had been a load of crap. Conrad knew – he didn't know how or why, but he knew – that Almasy knew a lot more than what he was letting on.

The thought had occurred to him when he'd begun to notice how hard he was trying not to cooperate, but Conrad was beginning to suspect that one of the things that Almasy knew about was the mole.

Which conjured up another question; if he knew about the mole, did he suspect him?

No, it was preposterous. Conrad had been careful; he'd made certain that no trail could be lead to him. It was really the only reason why Almasy wasn't dead yet; only a select few knew of his presence and if he was killed, those people would immediately become suspects.

But if he did suspect a mole, could that have been the reason why Kramer had let him back into the Garden? To find the mole and call him out?

Even if he could just dismiss his sudden uncooperativeness with his overblown arrogance and bruised pride from the last four months, he couldn't overlook it completely.

Conrad grabbed his cellular, dialled a number and waited for Cobatchi to answer on the opposite end. "We've got a problem…"

---

It had taken a little bit, but Quistis had been able to catch up to Seifer at the elevator; the only reason she hadn't been left behind was that he'd been forced to wait.

When she made certain that no one was listening in, she cleared her throat in an attempt to gain his attention before all but hissing in a harsh whisper, "Just what the hell was that back there?"

Seifer didn't answer her and Quistis scowled. "I understand you're not wanting anyone to know that you're looking for the mole, but that was no excuse to be so difficult. This is a crisis situation and everyone needs to help each other out."

She paused enough to look around and check to see if anyone was walking by. They were lucky thus far. "They have a point though; why did the terrorists stop the bombings? What else could they possibly want?"

There was a 'dinging' sound; the signal that the elevator had reached the floor. Seifer wordlessly entered the contraption and Quistis followed suit, the doors shutting themselves as they began their descent to the first floor.

It was another moment before Quistis said anything else. "I don't see why we shouldn't explain that Squall's innocent. We should have said something a long time ago."

"It wouldn't have done anything," Seifer said at last. From the looks of it though, he wasn't angry at all; if anything he looked amused. "They would have dismissed the concern as your wanting to believe that he wasn't guilty. If anything, the only thing that would have been done about it was gotten you suspended, and we need everyone in the positions they have right now."

Quistis hit him – hard – against the shoulder, scowling as she did. "That was just a performance!"

"A pretty damned good one, if you ask me."

"What is the matter with you?" Quistis snapped. "Of all the places to act like such an…"

"Asshole?" Seifer interjected. "It's what I do best."

"Why did you even do that!" Quistis asked in exasperation. "It doesn't make any sense! It's not like the Garden mole was anywhere near…"

Quistis suddenly trailed off, and turned to look at Seifer expectantly. However, the former cadet wasn't saying a word. They were passing the second floor landing when she finally cleared the air. "Oh Hyne. You don't think the Commander is the mole, do you?"

Seifer still didn't say anything.

"But…" Quistis was at a loss for words. "But why?"

"Why not?" Seifer asked, staring straight ahead. "He's in a position of power and has access to anything and everything the terrorists would need. Plus, he's one of the few people in this damn building who know about the connection between Esthar's President and Puberty boy, which explains the attack in Esthar a couple months back."

"But that doesn't mean he's automatically the one who did it!" Quistis argued. "It could have been anyone! And just because the terrorists know about that doesn't necessarily conclude that it's someone who knows in the Garden. For all we know, one of the terrorists could've found out anywhere else and relayed the Intel."

"There's still no reason not to believe he's involved," Seifer said.

"You're not even looking at anyone else!" She accused.

"Everyone else who I suspected a long time ago has already been cleared," Seifer snapped suddenly. "And the only reason why I haven't called out ol' Connie is because I don't have enough evidence to back it up."

"So it's just a theory?" Quistis asked tentatively.

"No." Seifer answered. "I'm positive he's the mole. I just don't have enough proof to accuse him yet."

Quistis stared at him critically for a second. "Since when have you ever refrained from jumping the gun?"

"I'm not stupid, Instructor," he stressed the word tauntingly. "This is different from accusing someone of loitering in the halls or staying out after curfew. And despite what you seem to think, I know how to be careful and thorough. It's why it took you all so damn long to find me here."

The silence that was left afterwards was thick; even as Seifer stared nonchalantly at the glass surrounding them, Quistis' brows were furrowed in thought. Ever since she'd learned of a mole in the Garden, she'd attempted to keep an eye out in case she could come up with any suspects. Of course that had been the job that Seifer had been given, but it didn't hurt to look herself. Still, the Commander hadn't even come close to making the list.

Shaking her head, Quistis abolished the thought from her mind. There was no way the Commander could've been the traitor; Squall had practically hand-picked him, and a background check had been made before he'd been selected for the job. There was no possible way that they could have handed a terrorist control of the Garden.

It wasn't until Quistis could see the first floor that Seifer said anything else. "Don't let on to anyone else what you know."

Quistis slowly turned to regard him; he was staring at her seriously. "You weren't supposed to figure it out; why they didn't just throw you out when you didn't leave, I don't know. But you can't act any differently or even hint to anyone not to trust him."

"Not even the others?"

"Not even them."

Quistis frowned. "But you said you'd already cleared them."

"Doesn't mean Connie doesn't have any other means of finding out that he's under suspicion," Seifer pointed out. "And we all know Rinoa can't act for shit; neither can the Chickenwuss. The Messenger Girl can, barely, but I'm not taking the risks, and from what I've heard, the Cow-dung is a fucking gossip."

"Not about important things like this." Quistis argued.

"All the same, I'd rather they not know."

Quistis sighed irritably, and a moment later, Seifer said something else, "And I need to hear you say you won't."

"I don't believe I should hide this from the others," Quistis said, and sighed again. "Alright, fine. I won't mention it. I won't hint about it. I won't even write them a coded message about it."

The elevator slowed to a stop, and a moment later, the door slid open, Seifer stepping out of the elevator almost immediately and heading down the stairs. Quistis was slower, folding her arms across her chest and frowning to herself internally. Once it got out that they had had suspicions, she knew the questions were going to start flying. The others would understand why she didn't say anything, but at the same time they'd still feel hurt about it. She knew she would.

Sighing, she followed Seifer back down the hall and headed back to her dorm room to meet with Rinoa and Irvine.

---

03:28:46

---

He was jarred out of his thoughts when the car he was riding in started to slow. Blinking twice out of reflex, he looked around, recognizing where he was and the surroundings that passed them by. Because the tires that normally would have been there were replaced by pads that caused the vehicle to hover in midair, the desert ground beneath them stayed undisturbed; no dust flew around them like he'd seen in the movies.

James had always wondered what it would feel like to ride in a vehicle with wheels. Never having stepped foot outside of Esthar in his entire life, he only had the stories his grandmother used to tell him when he was a little kid. He remembered always wondering what it would feel like to have the wind and dust blow into his face simply from the wind rather than from some kind of explosion. Esthar's cars always came with a roof; unlike in Galbadia they never had the option of convertibles or detachable roofs for the driver's leisure. In that aspect, Esthar was very conservative.

Though it would have been nice, it was just one of the things Esthar wasn't prepared to give up.

Stopping just outside of the city limits of Winchester City, James climbed out of the car, the Estharian Soldier who had been driving doing the same. Even after slamming the doors closed, they approached the soldiers stationed at the entrance to the city, where James flashed his bag and both were granted access inside.

From what James saw didn't surprise him, considering the circumstances; directly in front of him was a sea of vehicles, with Estharian Soldiers waving the citizens through the gates that would lead them out of town. James also recognized a few of his own staff assisting in the evacuation.

He didn't know why they were still carrying on with the evacuation if the bombings had stopped; he didn't know much about it, but from what little he'd been told, the terrorists had promised to bomb a city every hour until Esthar's government stepped down. However, James understood that it was better to be safe than to be sorry, and didn't question it, instead opting to get back on the job.

Speaking of, he instantly recognized his vice-chief of security and headed straight towards her. For her part, Deilia saw him coming and turned around to greet him. "Welcome back boss," she said cheerfully.

"Hope you didn't get used to being the 'go-to person," James said, to which Deilia laughed.

"Actually, I'd rather be stuck on the back burner. You do a much better job at being in charge than I'll ever do." Her grin dampened slightly, and James could tell that what she had to say next was serious. "But is it really okay for you to come back on the job so quickly?"

James sighed; he had seen this coming. "The government needs all the help they can get. I'm well enough to help guide some people away from the town, and I'll sit out when I need to. It's not like I'm chasing a suspect and defusing bombs or anything like that."

"It's a miracle you're even awake," Deilia sighed. "But that's your call or the higher up's decisions. But I'll be keeping an eye on you."

"You sound like a couple other people I know," James said.

"Good!" Deilia responded, even as she went back to work. "Maybe then you'll actually listen."

James sighed before following her lead.

---

When they had heard footfalls outside of the room, they'd stopped what they were doing and kept an eye on the door, in case someone knocked. If anything, they could keep quiet and hope the visitor thought that Quistis was out. But when they heard the lock deactivate, they exchanged glances; as much as it could have just been Quistis and Seifer coming back, it could also have been someone else.

Fortunately, it was the former; the door opened and both blondes entered the room, Quistis closing and locking the door behind her. Seifer took his seat back in front of the laptop and started it up again.

Irvine was glad Rinoa had at least had the sense to shut it down again. Still, she'd tried to crack the code, but hadn't gotten anywhere. Eventually she'd given up and went back to watching the signal from the phone Squall had on him with Irvine.

"What was that all about?" Rinoa asked as Quistis sat down on the bed.

"They're stumped," Seifer said just as Quistis was about to say something. "They don't know why the bombings stopped."

"So they asked you?" Rinoa asked. Seifer didn't comment, but Rinoa seemed to think that meant yes. "And?"

"Didn't give them anything," Seifer said.

"Did you tell them that he's innocent?" Irvine asked. Seifer sighed loudly before swivelling around in the computer chair.

"And what the hell good would that have done? I've only got circumstantial evidence to show to those bigwigs. Unless we get some kind of confession from the terrorist heading to Galbadia Garden, we've got nothing to say on the subject. I'm not even really supposed to be looking into it. They suspected that I did, but I played dumb."

"Seifer's right, for once," Quistis jumped in. "If we had said anything at all, especially at this point, they would have concluded that we were just too closely involved. At the very least, I would have been suspended, and then where would that leave us?"

Sighing, the former Instructor leaned forward. "But enough about that. Any progress?"

"They started moving just about a minute ago." Irvine said.

"Are they still headed north?" Quistis asked, but Irvine shook his head.

"More like north-west; back towards Dollet, but somehow I doubt they'll stop there."

"Why's that?"

"Because it's a city in a country of Galbadian citizens," Irvine said. "Let's face it, Dollet and Galbadia haven't exactly been close over the years, but they'd be working together to capture the terrorists. The Adelists wouldn't wanna be spotted by a Galbadian official; seeing as how they're so touching about Estharian precense, what with the incident earlier on."

"Even four months ago, Galbadian citizens were still suspicious of Estharian emigrants." Rinoa pointed out. "It wouldn't have been difficult for them to spot them."

"If anythin', they're probably hidin' some place rural." Irvine added. "Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if they continued north; it's the way they've been headin' so far."

"We should probably head them off," Rinoa said. "Find some way of getting to Deling City and waiting for our signal when we get a definite marker on the base. If they're passing Dollet, it might be closer that way, and Deling still has SeeDs stationed there; we could use them as packup."

"Sounds like a plan," Quistis said. "Any volunteers?"

Both Rinoa and Irvine exchanged glances. Irvine knew Rinoa wanted to go, if only to see Squall again, but he wouldn't have been surprised if Quistis shot her down; she was the world's only Sorceress after all; Garden would watch her like a hawk and it'd be damn near impossible for her to get away from SeeD long enough to find him. If anything, she'd inadvertently lead them to him. Seifer was also out of the question. Irvine gathered that the only real candidate would have to be Quistis, but that would mean they would have to move everything to another secure location.

"Cow-dung goes," Seifer said from his perch.

Normally a calm-tempered young man, Irvine was drawing near his limit with the constant name-calling. He definitely didn't appreciate being affiliated with shit and he was pretty close to smacking him. The only reason he didn't was because he'd learned from the others that Seifer loved starting fist fights; he wasn't about to sink to his level.

But still, Seifer was actually volunteering him to go, and he wanted to know why. "Who died and put you in charge?" he said.

"Rinoa's too closely attached. Obvious reason."

Rinoa scowled at him. Irvine had been right in his prediction. "But what about Quistis?"

"She's also too close." Seifer said. "She was his Instructor. Actually, most of you are too closely affiliated with him. You wouldn't be able to get away from SeeD long enough to search him out."

"So why would I be any different?" Irvine asked. "I've got just as much reason to be under suspicion as them."

"Actually, you've got the least reason to defect because of him," Seifer said. "Face it; only a handful of people even know you were at the same orphanage as the rest of us; they just think you're stickin' around because of the Messenger Girl. Sure you get along with Puberty boy, but you're also the most detached. They wouldn't watch you nearly as closely as the rest of us."

"There's just one problem," Quistis said. "How do we get him to Deling in time?"

"Since Esthar helped the SeeD teams get to their destinations, doesn't that mean the Ragnarok's not being used?" Rinoa asked.

"Yeah, but there aren't that many people who actually know how to pilot the thing," Quistis pointed out. Garden sent teams to Esthar right after the Sorceress War to learn how to pilot them, but there are still people learning the controls. And even if we could convince one of them to fly Irvine, there's no guarantee that it wouldn't get back to anyone else."

Irvine nodded in agreement. When the Sorceress War ended, while everyone else returned to the Garden, Esthar sent out a ship to bring in a select group of SeeD members who were willing to learn to pilot the Estharian aircrafts. Squall, Zell and Selphie had both stayed behind, since they'd already piloted the Ragnarok at least once before.

"Why wouldn't we explain the situation?" Rinoa asked.

"How would you explain how we somehow managed to locate the Adelist's base?" Seifer asked.

Rinoa seemed to think about it for a second before sighing. "You have a point."

The sharpshooter suddenly perked up; while true that the chances of finding someone who would report what they were doing to the Commander was pretty high, there was still someone else they could count on to keep it quiet. "What about Nida?"

"What about him?" Quistis asked, puzzled by the question.

Irvine wasn't surprised; on the rare occasion he managed to speak to him, Nida had mentioned that most people tended to forget about him; he was too plain to actually stand out on his own. "He knows how to pilot the Ragnarok. And I reckon he'd keep his mouth shut about the trip to Galbadia."

"How sure are you?" Seifer asked.

"I'm reasonably convinced that he won't." Irvine said. "Just leave it to me; I'll make my way to Deling. All I'll need is a constant update on their location."

"I think we can handle that." Rinoa said brightly. Irvine could tell she was definitely on board.

Quistis looked like she wanted to argue, but Seifer cut her off. "As long as you get to Deling, I don't fucking give a shit. Just figure out a way."

With that, Irvine left the room, the door sliding shut behind him.

---

As far as she was concerned, she officially regretted her rejection of any assistance.

Though she had a vehicle she had access to, it had been a little more difficult than she had anticipated shepherding the supposed terrorist. Maybe she should have brought Tilmitt and Dincht along.

She immediately shook the idea from her head. The two operatives had disobeyed orders and had almost been killed because of it. No, she'd rather have them do their jobs.

Still, Dincht had been so convinced that he'd seen this man in Deling and it would have served to have him present at the very least to fill in a couple of blanks.

If the need arose – and she doubted it would, given where she was headed – she'd call her forces over.

Having finally arrived, Riel had handed her prisoner over to the Garden personnel who were waiting for her at the front gate of Galbadia Garden. Together, they headed straight for the infirmary, where she waited until the prisoner was properly restrained and monitored before allowing the Garden Faculty to escort her to the Garden Master's office.

In comparison to Balamb Garden, Galbadia Garden was far bigger, probably housing nearly three times (if only that) of the SeeDs that were stationed in Balamb. Unlike Balamb, who trained SeeDs as mercenary forces, G-Garden was far less neutral. They currently were a part of a contract with Galbadia and regularly trained their students to enlist in the Galbadian military. However, those who chose to do so often transferred to Balamb in order to participate in the Field Exam.

Like Balamb, Galbadia had three stories to their building, however, their elevator only started from the second floor, rather than the first. From what Riel recalled, the dorms were located on the second floor while classrooms and other recreational rooms were on the first floor. Still, the head of the Garden's office was, as was the case in Balamb, still on the top floor, which was where she was currently headed.

Somehow, she couldn't get rid of the gnawing feeling that told her something was about to happen, and that somehow Tilmitt and Dincht are already knee deep in this mess. That was to be expected; Leonhart was their friend and former comrade; of course they would have a big part in this entire situation. As much as she knew how loyal the two were towards SeeD, she couldn't help but wonder if they were somehow playing both sides; whether they knew far more than what they were letting on. She planned to contact them and drill with for information as soon as the briefing with the Garden Master was completed.

---

Alicia Briar made sure she wasn't being watched before entering the infirmary. One of her co-conspirators was already dealing with the security cameras, and had alerted her to the knowledge that the desired cameras had been disabled.

It wasn't too difficult to get in; she'd already secured the access codes months before – just in case something like this were to have happened. When she'd learned that the prisoner was being taken to the infirmary, her first guess had been that whoever had captured him had done a number on him. But then her suspicion changed to believe that Garden was planning to interrogate him for information using chemical methods.

And knowing that the man they'd captured wasn't much of a fighter – why else would he have been caught? – she guessed that it wouldn't be long until he sung like a baby Chicobo.

No, he couldn't be allowed to talk. As much as this was for Conrad, this was as much for herself as well, because if Conrad was compromised, they'd start looking around for anyone else who could have possibly been in cahoots with him. And since he'd contacted her to do this in the first place…

She shook her head to clear it, her long dark curly hair swivelling from side to side from the movement. Careful aquamarine eyes watched the door and she pressed her ear against it, hoping to hear what was going on inside.

Obviously, that was a no-go.

Pulling out her .9 millimetre, she added the silencer she'd stashed into her uniform skirt's pocket and, counting backwards from three, she opened the door, opening fire as the physicians and Garden staff turned to look at her. Anyone who caught sight of her coming in and out of the Infirmary had signed their death warrant – no evidence of her presence must remain.

After making absolutely sure that everyone who had been standing moments before was killed, she lightly tapped aside their bodies and moved over towards the unconscious man. She wrinkled her nose at the tacky yellow tourist shirt he was wearing; why couldn't he have been wearing something a little less ugly looking?

Just as she came to stand next to him, she saw him move his head side to side – he was beginning to regain consciousness. What she'd originally been planning to do was shoot him in the head and be done with it, but instead, she opted for a little more creativity.

Grateful that she was wearing gloves, Alicia moved over to the stand that had been positioned next to the man, and grabbed one of the needles. She grinned as she removed the cap from the needle's point and pulled the syringe at the end back, filling it with air. She then waited for the man to slowly sit himself up and when he saw that the people around him were dead, he immediately moved back against the headstand – this had obviously not been what he'd expected to see upon awakening.

She stood with her hands behind her back, as she was holding the needle, waiting for him to finally acknowledge her. When he did, he was silent for a moment before he finally sighed in relief. "They sent someone to get me."

"First some questions," Alicia said. "Just what did you tell Dincht and Tilmitt? And don't tell me you didn't say a word."

When he didn't come forward immediately, Alicia knew that they had trouble. "Alright, I'll rephrase. How much did you tell them?"

"They stopped my bodyguards," the man finally said carefully. "What did you expect me to do? Roll over and die?"

"This is war, Charles," Alicia snapped. The man – Charles – flinched at the sharpness of her tone. "We die for what is right; if you don't believe that much, then why did you sign up in the first place? Now, how much did you tell them?"

"…everything."

Alicia frowned. "What does everything entail?"

"Everything, alright!" Charles snapped. "I told them that we were framing the kid for the murders and the missile launches; that the attempted assassination of Caraway and the attacks in Esthar were connected and that we were trying to resurrect Adel's ways!"

Alicia's frown deepened severely, fixing her features into an expression of wordless rage. "You could have just lied…"

"Yeah, right!" Charles said. "With Dincht practically breathing in my face after the stunt I pulled in Deling and after seeing him smash a bunch of boxes with magic? I'd like to see anyone come up with a half-decent lie when facing that!"

"Bigger and better men than you have," Alicia said.

"Alright; I messed up. Can we get out of here now? Before the Garden officials come here and see the dead bodies?"

Charles went to leave, but Alicia levelled the gun in his face. "Wait! I thought you were here to save me!"

Alicia looked thoughtful. "Funny, I don't recall saying I was here to save you."

"You bitch!" Charles exclaimed, his expression shifting to panic.

"Trust me; you're not the first one to call me that," Alicia smirked as she took a step forward. "and you probably won't be the last either. Now get off the bed."

Charles hesitated, but when she removed the safety from the .9mm, he quickly complied, slowly sliding off the bed and moving where she gestured him to move. He backed up towards the door before she said, "Stop there. That's far enough."

"So you're gonna shoot me in the back?" he asked, his voice an octave higher than it should've been. It pleased Alicia to know that he was terrified of her.

"Just shut up and do as you're told." Alicia said. "I might even let you pray to Hyne. Now get on your knees."

Slowly – very slowly – Charles did was he was told. However, Alicia moved forward, taking another .9mm off of one of the corpses and, after placing the silencer she'd used on her original gun on the new one, tucking it into her gun holster. She held the gun out to Charles before saying, "Take the gun."

He looked at her questioningly, and Alicia laughed. "Don't be stupid. It's empty. Now take it, or you're dead."

She placed the empty gun onto the floor, where Charles then picked it up, staring at her curiously. She crouched down next to him, which made his features break out in alarm. She revealed the needle she'd been hiding "Hold onto something," she said as she grabbed him by the waist eliciting a surprised yelp from Charles. She positioned the needle in an upward angle, aiming for the base of his butt-cheek. "There will be some discomfort."

He tried to wriggle, so she tightened her grip on him with her free hand before pushing the needle through the material of his pants, making sure it punctured the skin. He yelped suddenly when she'd hit her target before depressing the syringe down, until all the air she had filled the needle with was out.

When she rose to her feet, and laughed at the horrified expression that had crossed his features. "I never said I was going to shoot you for real," Alicia said sweetly.

Charles choked out some kind of objection, but eventually his words changed to startled gasps of pain as he clutched at his heart. He fell the rest of the way to the ground, attempting to move towards the door - away from Alicia – but eventually he stopped moving, the painful gasping that he was making was steadily dying down into pained mewing. Eventually, the sounds stopped altogether.

Using her index and middle fingers to check his pulse, she sighed in relief that he was dead. Making her way carefully over the body, she quickly walked passed the door, it sliding shut behind her as she made to return to her dorm. She already had an alibi set up in the unlikely case that she became a suspect. Contacting her comrade, she gave him the all-clear.

She'd already wondered about the consequences of her partners actions that would eventually lead to him pointing the finger at her, but that had already been solved; when he'd disabled the cameras inside and surrounding the infirmary, he'd done the same to the rest of the camera system. The Garden personnel would never know that she had had a hand in it, and Charles would take all the blame, having died of a heart attack soon afterwards.

Even as Alicia returned to the dorms, she grinned to herself. Whoever said there was no such thing as the perfect murder was horribly wrong.

---

03:40:39

---

He was standing in front of his superiors, having known that this meeting had been inevitable. Up until this point, he'd been watching the events unfold, listening to the numerous status reports that had been given by his personnel, and authorising the responses to situations that had gone wrong. Needless to say, this had already been a very busy and strenuous day.

But then again, they had all expected it to be when they'd signed up for this.

However, there were still some things even he had to answer for; after all, it was his group that was acting up, and only because they'd brought forward the only idea that had a high chance of success.

"I assume you know why you've been summoned here," said one of the three members of the former governing cabinet. They were drafted in shadows, so he couldn't see their appearances, even though he had met with them and knew exactly what they looked like. The one who spoke was old than anyone he was currently working with, but with age came wisdom. This was why he and his other two cohorts were in charge.

"Of course, sir." He answered immediately. He knew that they did not tolerate anything beyond getting the job done. Pleasantries could wait until they saw results. "I apologize for the delay, but other tasks held my attention."

"And it is about time you showed up to give us your report," a woman this time – equally as elderly – said scornfully. Like the man who had spoken before her, she spoke with an old Estharian accent – of the mother language that the new government had all but completely abolished since their usurping. "One must not make his superiors wait, and frivolous apologies will not do."

"Just get on with the report, Tannel," the first man said.

Luthar Tannel took in a deep breath and let it out slowly before he set to work. "So far, things are progressing forward. If we follow the timeline, by the end of the day all of our hard work will pay off."

"We already know the wrapping of the progress," the second man spoke loudly and clearly through his own accent – the same as his cohorts. "We know the world is on the brink of panic and the knowledge that they believe Leonhart to be at the heart of it is also evident."

"We want news that no one else has obtained as of yet," the first man said. "The things the world does not know and will not ever know."

"Yes, of course," Luthar cleared his throat. "According to our personnel, the leading governments don't suspect that we're the ones who are responsible, and they won't know until the final phase of the plan has come to light. Our impostor has done an excellent job of convincing the world that he is who he claims to be."

"And what of the real Leonhart?" the woman asked. "Won't he give us any trouble?"

"Actually, I received a report very recently that we have finally got him in our custody," Luthar explained. "And Seifer Almasy has also been sighted in Balamb Garden."

"Just having spotted Almasy isn't exactly good news," the first man stated flatly. "Just because you've seen him doesn't mean he's been dealt with."

"Which is what I must bring up next," Luthar said and he knew they weren't going to like what he had to say next. "Our mole in the Garden thinks Almasy is on to him."

"So Conrad has compromised himself?" the third man asked, to which Luthar shook his head.

"No, he only believes that Almasy suspects him. If he had any concrete evidence to back this theory up, he would have exposed him by now." Luthar cleared his throat once again. "However, I don't feel it would be prudent to ignore it. Almasy is intelligent; if he doesn't suspect him now, he will eventually."

"Well I don't see how difficult this situation could be," the woman sniffed. "We get rid of him."

"While this is true, Conrad feels that it may complicate things even further were something to happen to Almasy now," Luthar explained. "We'd previously agreed that upon discovering Almasy's location, Conrad was to find a way to get him out of the picture without compromising his position."

"So Greenwood feels that by killing Almasy, he would be exposing himself?" the third man asked.

"Eventually it would lead to his discovery, yes." Luthar said. "If Almasy were to be killed, the ones who would come under suspicion would be the select few who even knew about his presence. The whole of Garden has not yet been made aware of this information, so thus they wouldn't have known to actually do anything. It would spark an investigation that would eventually expose Conrad and, eventually, all of his contacts."

"Well, as you have said," the woman spoke up once again. "It appears as though we may take over within the next few hours, so why should it matter in the end?"

"But if something were to go wrong," Luthar started, but was interrupted.

"According to you, nothing should go wrong." The first man snapped. "The case is closed. See to it that Almasy never figures out our moles position, and if he already has, ensure that he doesn't mention it to a single person."

Luthar made an indignant sound, but stifled it quickly; it would do him no good to argue, especially if they'd already made up their minds on the situation.

"Now, is there any other business?" the woman asked.

Luthar frowned, but proceeded anyway. "According to other reports, the secondary operation is almost ready to commence."

"Give the word for them to proceed." The third man said. "It should only take another few hours before they're ready to go. With the bombings having stopped, the governments should be up in arms about possible theories."

Luthar nodded once, bowing respectfully as he did and left his superiors to his own devices. He had a few calls to make.

---

Conrad hung up his phone and placed it into his jacket pocket, breathing a sigh of relief. Alicia just gave him the good word; Charles was no longer an issue and all ends had been covered. At least that was one thing he didn't have to worry about in the long run.

Now all he needed to do was to await the inevitable report from Sanders. Thus far he'd proven himself to be an excellent actor, but that didn't mean he could just relax. Not yet anyway.

Because there was still the matter of Almasy.

He'd reported straight to Christopher, who had assured him the report would reach Tannel before his meeting with the heads, and now he was only waiting for a response. In the time it would take him to wait for a course of action to present itself, Almasy could've already compiled enough evidence to lock him up and throw away the key.

If that happened, then Leonhart would be exonerated; they would learn that he was the reason the Estharian squad had even known to look in Deling; had he not lowered the security parameters that had been placed to prevent hackers from finding the necessary records, they never would have learned of his location for his arrest. The records that would prove that he had been in Deling the entire two months – the reports he'd filed and the numerous operations he'd led to prevent Caraway's death – would be made public. They would be out one scapegoat and eventually the public would figure out the whole thing.

Four months of careful planning would have been ruined.

Finally, his cellular vibrated and Conrad reached back into his pocket to retrieve it. After taking note of the caller ID – there wasn't one – he answered it tentatively. "Yes…?"

"I have your answer."

Conrad was so shocked, he almost dropped the phone. Never in his entire career had he ever had the honour and privilege of receiving a phone call from the group head. Sure, he'd met Luthar Tannel on a number of occasions previous to his elevation to Commander Status, but he'd only really been in the background.

Not having seen the look of surprise on Conrad's features, Tannel continued to speak. "The council wants you to terminate Almasy."

Conrad's brow furrowed. "But what about my cover?"

"Once I gave my report, they were so enthusiastic of the progress that they believe that, once the operation is successful, you will no longer need to pretend to be on the enemy's side." Tannel explained.

"Yes, but that's only if everything proceeds accordingly," Conrad protested, but was interrupted.

"Nevertheless, that is what has been ordered of you. Now, is there anything else aside from Almasy that could implicate you?"

"I assure you that my acting has been, as always, impeccable." Conrad said. "Though he was found carrying a laptop. We've had it confiscated but no one has had the chance to look at it."

"Is there a possibility that he may have information on that laptop that could expose you?"

"Only if he was deliberately looking for it," Conrad said. "Otherwise, there wouldn't be any real reason."

"I don't want to take the chance. Find that laptop and make sure that no one else has any access to it."

"I'm already heading to lock up." Conrad was indeed doing just that; having already risen from his desk and leaving his office, locking the door behind him.

"I'll be standing by," Tannel said and Conrad placed him on hold. As quickly as he could, Conrad made his way down the hall to a room. Typing in the code, he opened the door, and stepped inside of the locker, turning on the lights before he began searching for the label that the laptop would've fallen under.

Unfortunately, he spent five minutes in that locker, but there was no sign of a laptop present. Frowning, he left the locker and ran into a SeeD member, which was good timing since he was looking for one. "Who searched Almasy when he was apprehended?"

"Uh," the SeeD stammered, obviously flustered by the sudden question. "Xu was there, as was Timmins and Darok."

"Where are they?"

"Xu went on her coffee break, and Timmins was sent to help with the evacuation in Galbadia," the SeeD reported. "Darok should be in the security office."

Conrad didn't stick around to thank him; he ran down the hall as fast as he legs could carry him. It wasn't very long after that when he reached the room and called Darok out to speak to him. "Where did you put the laptop?"

"What laptop, sir?" Darok asked, staring blankly at the Commander.

Conrad was at his wits end; was he completely surrounded by incompetent fools? "The one that was confiscated from Almasy along with his gunblade when he was found in the Monster Den. What category did you place it under?"

Darok seemed to understand, but the expression on his face was one that Conrad didn't like. "We found those things on his person when he was found, but by the time I was asked to put them into lock up, they were gone. I assumed someone else beat me to it."

All of the colour drained from Conrad's features and he was sure that he was going to faint. The laptop; the one thing that could possibly screw him over in the end was missing. He had been careful; oh so very careful and now one measly little botch up was going to end it all. Worse of all, it wasn't even his fault, but he knew he'd still get the blame; it was under his watch after all.

"Sir, are you alright?" Darok asked, but Conrad was far from alright.

Turning back to regard the SeeD, he ordered him to get back to work before returning to his office. He was barely inside when he took Tannel off hold. "It's gone."

"What do you mean it's gone?" Tannel's voice came in loud and clear and Conrad was forced to swallow hard. It was taking all he could to prevent himself from panicking.

"I mean it's not in the locker where I thought it would be. I asked around, but the fool thought someone else had already put it away…" Conrad trailed of; a sudden thought crossing his mind before his panic was replaced with rage. "Almasy…"

"What's he got to do with this?"

"He must have stolen them back," Conrad said, his mouth going dry. "He's armed and he's got something to expose me."

"Then rectify it." Tannel said. "Contact Cobatchi when you're done. No loose ends."

With that, Tannel hung up in Conrad's ear.

---

Rinoa and Quistis had only just gotten off the phone with Irvine – who had somehow managed to convince Nida to take him to Deling City – Seifer's cellular rang, and the former cadet was quick to answer it. He was silent for a second, listening to whoever it was that was speaking, before suddenly hanging up and announcing, "We have to go."

Both Quistis and Rinoa exchanged glances before Rinoa finally spoke up. "Why?"

"That phone call just now," Seifer said, immediately packing up his things – the laptop being shut off and placed inside of a carry bag. "was from Cid."

"The Headmaster?" Quistis sounded surprised.

"What did he want?" Rinoa's response came next.

"Oh nothin' much," Seifer said and from the tone he was being sarcastic. "Just giving us a heads up that the bad guys are heading our way."

"Why would they be doing that?" Quistis asked.

A thought suddenly crossed Rinoa's mind. "That laptop."

Quistis turned to look at her critically, but Rinoa paid no notice. "the mole must think Seifer's got some evidence in that thing; that's why Cid sent you back to Garden, right?"

"So he's on to us?" Quistis asked.

"No, he's onto me," Seifer corrected. "But if they find you two trackin' Cow Dung and Puberty Boy, you'll have a lot of things to answer for, so I suggest we all get the fuck outta dodge before they can catch us?"

"How long do we have?"

"Five minutes." Seifer said. "Maybe less, he wasn't clear." After he'd finished pulling his over-shirt pack on, he strapped the Hyperion – something else Seifer wasn't supposed to have – onto his back. "So if we're gonna go, then we're gonna go now."

"Hold on," Quistis said, grabbing something small and rectangular shaped. After a moment, Rinoa recognized it as a PDA. "If we leave now, Irvine will be shooting in the dark when he gets to Deling."

The former Instructor connected her PDA into the computer, and the satellite systems she'd managed to hack into began downloading into it. Rinoa, meanwhile, grabbed her pinwheel and strapped it to her left forearm before grabbing Quistis' whip – she figured she'd be helpful. Seifer was towering over Quistis like a tree, telling her to hurry it up.

After a couple minutes had passed, the PDA beeped, and Quistis removed it from the computer before pressing the button on the tower – shutting it down manually.

"Good!" Seifer snapped. "Let's get out of here already!"

---

Three sets of feet started down the path that would lead them to the Dormitory. Dressed in SeeD uniforms, many of the students who had been loitering immediately moved aside, afraid that they would get caught as they meandered elsewhere. It was hardly an issue for them; the students could have been on fire and they wouldn't notice them.

Shortly after getting off the phone with Tannel, Conrad had gone back to the security room and ordered everyone out while he searched the cameras. However, there was one camera that looped and he was able to locate it within three minutes. Immediately afterwards, he'd ordered his men – ones from the organization – who had headed to the room that had the loop.

Conrad watched through the security cameras located outside of the dorms, knowing that he wouldn't be able to see much, but also knowing that his men would find Almasy and deal with him accordingly.

If Trepe and Heartilly also happened to be there, more power to them.

His men had already gone out of view, and Conrad was forced to wait for them to report to him. And the waiting was what was killing him inside; knowing that unless they retrieved that laptop, their plans were in serious jeopardy.

Finally, he heard from his men and he sat up straighter, ready for the news. "Well?"

"We've found the room," one of his agents said. "but there's no one inside."

"What do you mean there's no one?" Conrad snapped. "I saw Trepe and Almasy barely a half-hour ago; they should still be here."

"It looks like they left in a hurry," the agent continued. "The best estimate is that they went through the window."

"Then find them!" Conrad snapped before disconnecting. Scowling to himself, he couldn't believe that their disappearance right when he'd been ordered to kill Almasy was a coincidence. No one overheard him; he'd made absolutely certain.

That's when he had a thought; he returned to his office, closing the door behind him before he started searching the room, pulling out books from shelves, looking under tables and chairs, anywhere that could possibly hide anything.

And he sure as hell found what he was looking for; bugs. Tiny, little transmitters that had been positioned inside his office. He'd found three in the last two minutes, but he was pretty sure that it wasn't the last of them.

Almasy hadn't been in his office for very long, nor did he have anything aside from the laptop and the Hyperion on him.

Conrad thought about it; he was very certain that they hadn't been in before; everything had been running very smoothly before Almasy had been found.

But that left only one other person: Cid Kramer.

He knows too, Conrad thought to himself dismayed. And if he knows, then it's only a matter of time before everyone else does.

---

She was sitting, alone, inside of the small space she had become accustomed to. Her arms were wrapped around her knees, which were pressed up against her stomach, her chin resting atop them. She'd been alone for a long time now; she could barely even keep track of just how long it had been.

It had been a long time since she'd seen the people she cared about; been able to walk out into the sun and breathe the fresh air. But the people who were keeping her there wouldn't let her do any of those things. They barely fed her and for the most part she felt drained, but they were keeping her alive. She couldn't help but wonder why. They didn't need her to be. It didn't make any sense.

Still, all she could do was hope that these people – these terrorists – didn't get what they wanted. Because if they did, then it was all over.

---

4:00:00