A/N: Howdy! this chapter's beginning is like…a flashback. It might be bad pacing but I guess I just wanted to remind everyone about character motivations (kind of bring it back a step? To add suspense, yeah that's it) and before we move forward to point out some very important character elements I probably should've brought up a LONG time ago. (Whoops, bad writing is bad. Forgive me?)
But the story trots on! Probably for far too long! This slow burn is killing me!
Also it's bad writing if I have to explain this in author notes, but oh well! I'm lonely in this fandom sometimes, and all you can do is scream into the void! (I'm just a big dork for wanting to finish these so badly but they must be done before I can let them alone) I guess I'll just continue screaming into the abyss to hear my voice bounce back. And thank you many distant readers- I see you there. I'm grateful as always, and I hope it's bringing you joy.
Chapter 23: Something to Drink
"So, what are we doing here?"
The two of them were seated on stools at the scarred surface of the long bar. This place was frequented by the Goons, outside the Guadosalam city limits but not a far walk in the direction of the Moonflow, and it seemed to be the best place to be at the moment. Leblanc had just walked out the door days before and it seemed like everything was falling apart while Logos, while unwilling to admit any cracks in his own being, was trying to put everything back together. Desperately ignoring, of course, the gaping hole that was where their Boss had just vacated.
Ormi was not well practiced to thinking at any great length on anything. An 'act first, think later if at all' kind of guy. Example being, this situation. He didn't rightly know why they were there. Something just snapped him out of his moping, that being Erie. She had been sniffling in the hallway after a stressed out Logos snapped at her for another mistake she had made. Ormi didn't really know her per say, she was one of Logos's Goons. The way they operated, at least while the Boss was around, the Goons were effectively split into two groups. Leblanc presided over all of them, but so she wouldn't have to micromanage everything Ormi and Logos stepped in as managers. Between them, they arranged it so they wouldn't step on each other's toes with an even split on their numbers. It worked well, indulging in some light and friendly competition between the two factions within their ranks as well as making sure no one was overburdened. Something that wasn't working now that Logos was stubbornly taking everything on himself in Leblanc's absence.
He was on a fool's errand of distracting himself from the uncomfortable disappointment he was feeling. The gunner wouldn't blame the Boss, not out loud. Logos wouldn't scream about how unfair it was. He didn't even in the Yevon days, when they had every right to complain. He'd continue on, just as they had been, only doing Leblanc's work too, maybe in case she came back. Ormi knew she wouldn't though. Not on her own. The fact made more evident by the fact that others felt it too, and were leaving in droves. That had to weigh on Logos's mind.
"Dunno." Ormi finally answered her, as the barkeep plopped a hefty jug of ale between them, and two glass mugs. "Thanks." He said, before pouring the still wet-eyed woman a generous serving of the alcohol. While not the healthiest of coping mechanisms, Ormi had turned to drinking in the Yevon days and never broke the habit. He'd probably think on it when his liver went to shit, but as that had yet to happen he hadn't really pondered it. The woman sniffled, staring at its sloshing contents, while Ormi let her have a quiet moment and observed their surroundings.
Dim lighting, but nothing fancy. A location with pool tables and dart boards, but quiet atmosphere as it lacked the loud crashing and bawdy songs that characterized some Luca or lower level Bevellian joints. Logos wouldn't chose to go here himself, but gladly came along when invited, even if he dragged his feet and grumbled. Although Ormi hadn't bothered extending the invitation this time around, on account of his friend's piss poor attitude, and his own annoyance towards that. Additionally, considering the woman beside him, which this whole thing was in an effort to comfort her and maybe for morale? Something Logos was terrible at. (Hello? Your impression of Nooj sucked, Logos. Ormi thought internally in passing some time ago). Always, it was up to Ormi to keep spirits high, which he...sort of dropped the ball on in the past couple of days. He had been gutted by their Boss's sudden leave of them, and had done his own version of her locked away depression as he sulked and drank alone in his room. He only came out of it when he heard Logos hollering at the Goons-particularly the one perched on the stool beside him. He had already sobered up, in his melancholy forgetting to get drunk again in those late hours, and so figured he'd fix that and get back to work on his usual duties in the same breath. Hey! He bellowed to her when she sobbed hoarsely as Logos left to fix whatever she had done wrong. She had jumped. Let's get out of here!
Let's get out of here! He had said, and how he had meant it. It felt like running away, but it was freeing in some ways too. Maybe that's the thrill the Boss was seeking.
And so here they were! He didn't think things out past, Do it. Arriving and getting shit-faced was the end of his thought, but he knew he wasn't done. Cheer her up. And he'd do it, somehow. The Boss thought him reliable after all.
"Sooo-" The wide warrior mumbled. "Youse havin' a time of it, huh?"
She didn't answer right away. It was hard to say if she even heard him, since she still had her mask on. Ormi noticed she didn't often take the thing off, not after Logos figured the Goons should have it on their uniform. That had been a long time ago. He was getting nostalgic all of a sudden, probably because of the recent upheaval of their organization.
There was a long mournful sigh, that interrupted his ruminating on old memories, "I guess I am. Logos says I need to cut it out."
She reached for the mug and pulled it towards her, dragging the heavy bottom over the sticky bar. Erie reached up and yanked her mask aside from her thin lips, which Ormi noticed were painted black, as she continued to talk. "Logos is right. Always is, isn't he?"
"Except when he ain't." Ormi said a little bitterly. It might be a bit hypocritical, since all he had done in response to the latest Syndicate crises was pout, but Logos was driving him nuts though! While everyone was either abandoning all hope, and their jobs, or straight up grieving, Logos was reacting with teeth bared. As he always did when he was hurting, Ormi knew that, but that didn't make it easier on anyone around them. They were leaders now! Get it together! Speaking of-
"Anyways- I'll talk to 'im." The warrior assured the woman after she set her drink down, nudging an arm in to her side. "Don' let what he says bug ya. Youse just gotta- just gotta do what youse got to, okay?"
She nodded. Ormi was relieved he wasn't complete garbage at motivational speeches.
"You too?" Erie croaked. The mask was only pinned to the side of her hood, obscuring her eyes behind a swing of little black cloth. However, her mouth was pulled a little high, minutely trembling. It was obvious she was still kind of only holding it together and her heart needed far more bolstering.
"Uh, yeah!" Ormi shouted, before dunking into his own drink hurriedly so she wouldn't see how uncertain he was. The future was hazy. Where would they go from here? He wasn't one to think about these things. Maybe he should ask Logos. His action bought him enough time to know to say, "Don't think about all that for now! Drink up- Cheer up! Whaddya say?"
"Sure." Her voice was dulled by an almost bored tone, not at all enthusiastic. But her hand reached out for the drink anyways- good, good.
Ormi brought his own back into the air for a sort of half-assed toasting salute, before trying to down his entirely to hide behind that all too familiar fuzziness.
The two of them talked long into a few jugs, ale and then later beer, paid graciously by Ormi, and about jug number three was when the woman finally let it all out. Not in gross sobbing, but angrily, the cheeks about her mouth flushing in drunken rage.
"Fuck this!" She announced, slamming her hands down on the bar. Ormi flinched at the suddenness of it, but found his mouth twitching into an uneasy smile as she displayed a not often shown noise. She was usually dreadfully sullen, but not in this case. Her droning voice rose to a cracking pitch. "Why does it have to be this way?"
"Well, maybe all good things come-" Ormi was sagely about to recite an old saying, but was cut off by curled hands ripping from the bar and pointing at him violently.
"No! Shut up!" She opened her mouth crookedly and he noticed she had sharp canines, "I don't want to hear that everything ends shit! Why does it have to? Why can't- why can't we just fix it? Why can't I?"
Just as soon as she had flown into her aggravation, she deflated. Erie turned in her bar seat and rested her elbows on the counter, back to her gloom.
Ormi gulped another mouthful of beer, before speaking towards the back wall in a low grumble. "Yeah, why can't we's?"
She smiled, reaching up and peeling off her mask completely. He had seen her without her mask before, she being one of the dozen Goons that had been part of the Syndicate since before it was a syndicate, but was happy to see it removed. She didn't like doing it often, and it showed a noted amount of trust and comfort.
"You know, it hopeless, Big-guy." Her casualness was probably from the alcohol, but that's why Ormi liked drinking. It loosened people up.
"Nah," Ormi batted the air, "It's not hopeless! We just gotta- youse know-" He squinted into the foam of his mug, "-Think."
More Logos's thing than his, but not entirely wrong.
"About what?" Erie set her chin on the bar, over the backs of her upheld folded hands.
"All of this?" Ormi made a wide gesture. "This whole Boss being in love with Nooj thing?"
Erie was quiet for some time, before asking. "You think that'll work out?"
He shrugged, accustomed to being dismissive of the distressing topic. "Why not?"
"He doesn't love her." Erie was firm in her reply, but sad in her sigh following it. "I know how that feels. Do you?"
"Huh?" Ormi raised a brow towards her.
"Loving someone that doesn't love you back." She clarified, before adding, "I think I can make a guess, but I don't want to say until I'm sure."
"Youse think I'm in love with someone?" Ormi asked, swiping up his ale again.
"Yep." Was the blunt answer.
"An-" Ormi's brows set firmly over his eyes, a little uncomfortable as he asked, "And they's don' love me back?"
"Not in the same way." Erie tilted her head over in her cupped hands, clearly thinking it over. "Maybe she does love you in a way but- I don't know. I know I'm right about you, though. It's hard isn't it? Like- you want them to be happy and you'd do anything. But, at the end of the day, you just know it isn't going to be you. Even if it worked for a little bit, or -probably- most likely- not at all, you don't hang onto the hope. At least I don't. Because you know it's just not you, it would never be you."
Ormi grew still and silent, not quite picking up her meaning but feeling those words stick in his chest like a poison. Gooey, and slow crawling. Unpleasant.
"And it doesn't have to be! You're just happy that they're happy right? Right?"
Her insistence hinted to Ormi she was not good at holding her liquor as he was. Makes sense, she was much smaller than him and keeping pace. "Uh, yeah? Sure, Erie."
"But like...they're not happy. Neither one of them." Erie unfolded her hands and slapped them down on the bar, "Right?"
"Youse-" Ormi hesitated, "Youse lost me. What?"
She rolled her green eyes, before leaning across the space towards him to harshly shout. "Logos and the Boss! Who else would I be talking about?"
There was a clicking in his ears, perhaps the cogs in his skull turning or the fluctuating of his eardrums. "Huh?" He strung some of her earlier words into an idea, "Youse like Logos?"
She flushed, "We're moving past that-"
Ormi beamed, bringing his head back on his neck with his brows raising. "Are we's?"
"Well, you're in love with the Boss! I know you are!" Erie yelled accusingly, dragging some patron's eyes around towards them, enough that she ducked her head into her shoulders and lowered her voice although she was still vicious. "Aren't you?"
He peered out of the corner of his eye at her, surprisingly guarded. Ormi readjusted in his seat, clutching at the oversized and heavy bottomed mug full with frothy beer. "Well- no's I'm not."
"Liar." There was no change in her tone, dreary and calm, but when Ormi flicked his eyes a little angrily towards her she had a corner of her thin dark-painted lips upturned.
She worked her jaw back and forth, her dull eyes half-lidded with a slothful ease pointed towards the back wall lined with whiskey bottles. Her voice, low and a little hoarse like creaking hinges, mumbled among the crack of pool balls behind them. "I know you're in love with her, Ormi. I can just tell."
"Nope." A denial, but unconvincing.
"You are."
Erie blinked, her expression indiscernible, which was uncomfortable. Ormi hid his face behind his drinking, thinking carefully, in his slow measured way, and keeping a suspicious eye trained on her. The long swig finished when he set the mug down with a thunk. He tore his eyes from her and threw them into the wobbling contents of his beverage.
He muttered downwards, "So what?"
Erie laughed then and Ormi tilted a curious ear towards the sound. It cracked, like she had a cough hidden in her chest. Or maybe emotion. She laid her eyes towards the bar top, her empty drink a place to rest her gaze as she continued to speak. "You know how I can tell?"
Ormi was still a little wary. He folded over his beefy arms on the edge of the bar and gestured with his chin for her to continue. "Uh-huh?"
"You stopped looking over your shoulder."
A thick eyebrow raised, "What?"
"I said, you stopped looking over your shoulder. When you first joined up you would jump at every shadow, every loud sound. I know now it wasn't like you to do that. You were scared that whole time and for who knows how long before that! You hardly said anything to anyone, and didn't move around much like you thought someone might turn around and rip your head off. Then, you just...stopped. You trusted this, trusted her, and you got comfortable. Then you stopped looking over your shoulder. I know you love her, because I did the exact same thing. First with Leblanc- then later Logos too- you're surprised at that?"
"A little." Ormi grumbled, lowering his usually rambunctious volume to a secretive one, but his face was anything but judgmental. "So, youse ain't gonna tell anyone are ya? Youse goons like to gossip."
"I won't tell anyone, Big-guy, so long as you do the same for me. I don't want anyone knowing I've got- feelings." Her often moody temperament aside, she was not known for being warm and fuzzy. Erie tilted her head a little sleepily, and stared a middle-distance. "I've got my reasons, and I'm sure you've got yours."
Ormi pulled his comparatively small head back on his big thick neck. He did not take her invitation to just leave it at that. "So's when did youse notice?"
The question seemed to finally shake her from the mild stupor she had been floating in. Her eyes sought his, a little wide. "Huh?"
"When did youse first noticed that youse cared?"
She laughed, through her nose, her hands rising from where they clutched the edges of the barstool to fiddle with some shells of consumed peanuts. She flicked the husk at Ormi's clenched fist, clearly stalling for time, weighing the options of telling him or leaving it alone. She chose the former. "Remember when- when Logos first got all us Goons the masks?"
Ormi recalled, tilting his head back towards the ceiling. That was practically the beginning of Logos's leadership in the Syndicate. "Yeah?"
"That's when I kind of started crushing on the gunslinger. Yes, that far back. And you've been feeling for the Boss just as long, if not longer."
Erie smiled and Ormi returned the gesture, nodding in agreement.
She quickly returned to a frown, "Not that it matters, does it? She still left us. All of us- including you."
His nodding ceased, and he paused in the animation of bringing the mug back to his lips.
"Why's youse gotta say it like that?" Ormi mumbled, before giving his head a shake. He was used to not thinking about upsetting things, pushing that down in favor of distracting and more favorable options. Cheering up the dame seated next to him as an example. "Especially youse- youse know Logos is single right now? Youse could uhhh-" He trailed off, not really interested in setting anyone up with Logos.
"Nuh-uh." Erie shot back, "Not a chance and I know it. I wouldn't bother with that in-in a million years." She titled her head back and finished off the ale before flagging down the barman and ordering something more girly and fruity.
"Logos ain't picky." Ormi offered, all attempts in being helpful.
It didn't land. "Way to make a girl feel special." She rolled her eyes, "Oh, don't worry it didn't escape my notice. But Mr-" Her voice dropped then, deep in her chest and she spoke through her nose, "Oh- Erie how did you manage to bungle this one up? Oh-Let me rubber-neck my way through Luca because I'd take a peek at anything with long smooth legs that walks. Oh- let me hiss every Al-bhed slur I can think of!- All of that and all of this-" She dropped out of the imitation of Logos' voice which had Ormi choking back laughter to gesture at her entire being, down her side, before finishing with emphasis. "Bad idea."
"How come?"
"He couldn't handle all my baggage," She answered vaguely, "And he'd probably need to find someone worthwhile to settle down with. Not me. You know how that goes."
She trailed off as her drink arrived. Erie gulped it, probably going at it a little harder in her bitterness than would be advisable. Ormi thought for the first time that perhaps downing as much inebriating substances in a short period of time was not the best way to deal with problems as she gasped and set the footed glass back to the bar. She elbowed him in his bicep, nearly leaning too far out of her seat and toppling. She was more than a little tipsy, which would explain her forthright confessions and the turn this entire discussion had taken. He bumped her with the arm that she jabbed her elbow in, fixing her precarious balance. Erie shook her flushed face. "Say, there's an idea. Why don't we make a try for it? You and the Boss, me and Logos? Just so long as we can- we can keep them in the fray, huh?"
Ormi snorted, sarcastically jeering into his beer, "Now there's a plan."
"Okay, you're right. It would never work, we both know that don't we?" She shrugged. "Thanks for listening to me jabber."
"It's nice jabber." He picked up his tone to sound cheerier. And she smiled again.
"Thanks."
They sat in silence, pleasantly soaking in the drunken fumes that had been marinating in their guts and floating up into their chests and heads, making them feel light. What was love anyways? They felt it, knew that it existed, but there was all kinds weren't there? The kind they both seemed to agree on that they held for their leaders went beyond simple admiration. But here they were both stuck with their stupid pining friends, helpless to assist them in anyway with their woes. Erie and he just wanted them to be happy, which Logos and Leblanc appeared insistent to stew in misery of their own making. There was the knowledge that they could never- not in that way for Logos or for Leblanc. If they would admit it, that hurt. However, it was that mutual rejection, silent and yet assured, that nudged the two of them closer in that space. And it was nice, to have a fellow with the similar heart in the situation, losing the same battle. But also- A companion with the identical goals.
The two of them had talked long into their drinks after that, coming up with ideas as to bring their aforementioned leaders happiness. Ormi was listening to Erie's drunken rambling, since her earlier suggestion of just going for it themselves was shot down, but not necessarily her other string of thoughts.
"She snaps her fingers and Logos perks up, you know? I think he likes that sort of thing. And Logos brought the Boss back the first time too- I wonder how he did it? There has to be something there! He can do stuff seemingly no one else can! As for her- well you hear how she raves about the Meyvn, hanging on every rare smile and word pointed her way. It's sad! She deserves better! Someone who would do anything for her!"
"Definitely." Ormi more than agreed, although he was slightly distracted. There was something, through the comfortable haze of this long conversation and the alcohol that needled his brain. He voiced it, just as he thought it, "It would be better if they's just went for each other themselves, huh?"
Erie stopped, her green eyes widening. Long had the goons teased Logos on his infatuation with the Boss- but to think it could go both ways or that anyone had the power to pull her from Nooj- it seemed unlikely. However, glistening hope was too tantalizing. It was a long pause, stretching on to a point that Ormi thought he said something wrong, before she muttered in that hauntingly calm voice. "That could work."
In this endeavor, Ormi and Erie perched on stools had gladly appointed themselves Cupid, and took pot shots with their imagined and crudely constructed bows full of heart shaped arrows at the other duo. The klutz and the dimwit working together for greater ends! If that wasn't love, Ormi didn't know what was. So far, Logos and Leblanc could not possibly suspect their plans that would soon come to fruition. At least, as far as they saw it.
She was quietly swaying, considering her earlier words it seemed, before she sunk more into her stool a little dejectedly.
"You think it's selfish of us?" Erie asked, tilting her chin down and hoarsely muttering "You know, I miss Leblanc as much as any self-respecting Goon can but- We are using Logos to bring Leblanc back. She's the one that wanted to leave, so if we force her back, wouldn't that mean it would be against her will?"
"When she comes back, it would be because she wants to." Ormi rubbed the top of his head with his palm, before lowering to scoot his mug around the tabletop. "I do feel bad using the Boss though- you know, to make sure Logos doesn't lose a good thing. I don't want to see him messing up something that does him good again- not like before...I almost lost him. And all of that was so bad and I couldn't even help him before we met the Boss. Somehow, I think she might be the only one that can keep him from bolting- and getting stupid." His tone was dark as he finished but it was followed by an even darker derisive note of laughter.
"HA!" Erie barked, "Listen to us! We're terrible people, aren't we? We say we love them but we're just using them because we're the ones afraid of losing something. It's entrapment. That's bad, isn't it?"
After a time, Ormi started to glare down at the bar again. His hands no longer busy with his heavy mug clasped together, threading his fingers and squeezing tightly. There was a long pause, before he grumbled. "I've done worse."
Erie blinked again, curious at his words but not overly concerned it seemed. But that may have just been her bland face and always tired attitude. Ormi shook himself before swiping up his booze again.
"Don't tell anyone what I's said-" Ormi reiterated, changing the subject. "I's got a reputation ya know?"
"I know, I know." Erie waved a hand through the air towards him, clearly still thinking on his last confession but deciding against prying. "Me too. Me too."
"Good." Ormi nodded once, before he saw his beer off with another bout of chugging. His face was a bit warm when he put it back down. "Come on- let's get back."
"Sure-" Erie stood on her high heels and immediately met the floor with a loud thud.
"Oh-" Ormi stared dumbly down at her drunk prone form. "Erie?" She didn't answer. "Oh, good grief."
Ormi stood in the road, the sun beating down on his head, sweating and angry as he listened to the Hooded Man talk to his Boss that way. What Erie and he had been working on since that chance conversation in the bar, when everything seemed at its worse, was but a small matter. Or maybe it surged with more importance than ever. Logos was out there somewhere, in the hands of the Hooded Man. Leblanc was being threatened. His love for those two people honed the edge of hatred he had for Them, the creeps of Yevon, ever the cause of all his troubles.
The warrior set his mouth and raised his communicator, his H.E.A.R.T.. The screen was still running with Logos locked in a shaking frame, which annoyed Ormi for the strange reason that it was badly done on top of the obvious distress his friend was in, bleeding from mouth and nose, but he didn't have enough time to let his rage boil or settle. Time was not on the side of anyone he cared for. With his anger simmering as it was, he reacted as best he might. He was not a thinker, not like Logos or the Boss, but he could still act fast. His plans and schemes with Erie aside, he wasn't one to rally anyone behind him, he was not a natural born leader like Logos and Leblanc, but he still led. Now, he had some orders to give.
He knew enough about the H.E.A.R.T. to know that he could maintain multiple different calls, and how to do so to only a choice communicator. He chose Erie's, and it worked. She answered, backed by all the other Goons- with Logos still talking to Leblanc over the speakers in Taji's device- Ormi spoke to them. Giving commands and laying out their course of action. They responded.
Ormi let his H.E.A.R.T. momentarily shut down as he focused on the singular point ahead, a new mission overriding the one he had been on. He steeled himself into merely carrying out his duty, as it had been in the old days. It was easier and safer, to operate this way. It allowed him to work quickly, to stop useless panic. There was plenty of time for that later, after Logos and Leblanc were safe again. He gritted his teeth, announcing to the dust of the road as he sprang down the path again. "Hold on, buddy. I'm coming!"
Logos was thrust back to consciousness again, the burning smell of Phoenix Down ripping into his nostrils. It wasn't relief he felt, like air much needed, but the raw heat of overexposure. He was starting to burn from the inside out, what felt like flames twisting out of him from his navel, and he just wanted to succumb to the darkness again. But shadowed men hovering about would not let him.
"Leave me alone!" He knew that he was still in bad shape, and by all means needed attention. They were keeping him alive, but only barely. He was drowning in potion, the soothing effects merely distractions for the amount of wrong that was going on around him. Inside him. Black trails marked the corners of his mouth to his chin, and he was horrifyingly aware of hands busy around the gaping wound in his stomach. His arms were tied down, since he started to ward off their efforts. An irritatingly bright light was boring into his eyes again, accompanying the blazing course paving down his jaw. He shut his eyes to block it out. A disembodied hand thrust into his wound for reasons he could not discern, only scream.
"Sure can squeal, can't he?" The hooded-man asked conversationally to the guardsman who had put him in such a state in the first place. When the guardsman didn't answer, he sniffed. Another agonized cry torn from the gunner's throat blared loudly in the ears of his captor. He wheeled on the medical personnel surrounding the prone man. "Shut him up, will you!"
An irritated Doctor's assistant snapped at him, "Sir, we're doing what we can with what we have on hand. We do much more and he's going to-"
"I don't care. We only need him long enough to make an exchange, after that he can keel over!"
So far, they had heard nothing on the other side of things. He was beginning to doubt this prematurely hatched scheme could work. After all, it wasn't like Leblanc could very well bring Nooj to them, or perhaps would care to. But he had an inkling that he might still get something out of it. If they cared at all what happened to the whining body laid out on the table. He just needed to make sure that he held the advantage.
The doctors poured another dose of potion. Logos gagged on it.
"You're not seriously thinking about it, are ya?" Ruckus stood before Leblanc, edging between her and Nooj as they stared at each other silently, communicating but not speaking.
"Ruckus-" Nooj warned, annoyed at his interruption, but the Youth Leaguer did not heed before Leblanc lashed out.
"Get out of my way!"
"No way! This is our Meyvn we're talking about-"
"And nothing is going to happen to him, I just need my H.E.A.R.T. back!" Leblanc rushed past the blockade of a man but it gave Nooj plenty of time to sidestep her. He kept her at arm's length as he pivoted on his cane. Lucil seemed to sense his wishes and stepped between her and the Meyvn as well.
"Stop it!" Leblanc screamed, before she was caught in her gut by Ruckus's arm. She hacked on a short breath, before growling. "Don't stop me, I have to save Logos!"
"And how do you think you're going to go about that? He made demands, and we're not going to let you meet them! Even if your former associate is in trouble." Ruckus was mean and biting in his tone, defensive as all get-out with hackles raised as he heaved his elbow and threw her backwards. Leblanc landed on her feet, but crumbled as the shortness of breath weakened her spine to sagging. She bent over her knees, trying to recover with very wide eyes under knitted brows.
"Leblanc, we have to be very careful." Lucil's voice was soothing, but she also protectively stood with her hand on her sword between Nooj and the former syndicate leader.
"You can't just rush in. We have to be smart about this." Nooj's hand tightened around the coveted device. "I know you want to save him. But if you run in there, without me, what do you think will happen to him?"
"But!" Ruckus started to protest but was cut off, surprisingly, by Leblanc.
"I'm not going to risk you either." Leblanc raised her head to stare into him, through him, and held out her hand, which was trembling. "Give it back, love."
"No."
Leblanc winced, her shoulders shuddering as she stared imploring across the space that separated them. A space that felt like it was growing as she fought to understand why he still stood in her way. "He wants to kill you Nooj. And he'll kill Logos, too, if I let him. I have to be quick if-"
For a second time, the device let out a musical chime that vibrated in Nooj's palm. The Meyvn peered down at the flashing screen, a purple version of Leblanc's old insignia bobbing in the frame and a black button flashing white and yellow off-set from the earlier red one. Cautiously, he thumbed the lighted command switch.
"Hey, hey!" Ormi's voice boomed from the device's mic. "Boss!"
"Ormi!" Leblanc called out to him, Ruckus and Lucil still not allowing her to pass and be near the Meyvn. Nooj looked upwards from his spectacles, sparing a look towards the others, before he readjusted his eyes to the unit that continued to speak.
"No vid, cuz that's only on the main channel right now! Can youse hear me? HELLO!" Ormi's voice crackled and buzzed as it blew out the mic at times. "Boss, while chuckle-nuts was talkin' we's already got to work! We's got to tracking down Logos, an' as soon as we's got a lock-down on coordinates we'll let youse know. Is that Nooj guy with youse?"
"I am." Nooj replied coolly.
"Great! Now I'm not ready to see's Spira without youse, but youse and I both know that guy means serious business." Ruckus and Lucil both stiffened, but quickly lowered some of their defenses as the warrior blared onward, "So's we's got to outsmart 'im! Catch him with his pants down, see? Now he already fumbled up by letting that guy shoot Logos." Leblanc flinched, remembering, but Ormi did not seem to pay this the same amount of mind, at least at the moment, "Don' think he planned on that. We's can work with that but now's we's got to be quick! And careful, right? I can't do it without youse, so's can youse meet us there? Oh!" There was a beeping, before Ormi shouted back into the mic with a fair bit of static. "They's got it narrowed down to east of Djose! Can youse start out there now? I'm sending the info now. I'll see youse there just as soon as Erie figures out a ways to bring a fully gunned up Rouk out to meet us. Over an' out!"
There was a crackling finality as the message fizzled out. Leblanc gasped, finally able to breathe although she hadn't realized she had deprived herself of it.
"Ah-the Syndicate, effective as always." Nooj commented dryly before he carelessly tossed the device upwards, Ruckus instinctively scrambling to catch it as the Meyvn turned on his cane to hobble out of the tent. As he did, he ordered, "Lucil, gather some men."
"Yes, sir!" She saluted before hopping forward to carry out his demand, giving Leblanc an apologetic and hopeful smile as she did. Leblanc stood dumbly in their wake, beside Ruckus. They both turned their faces to each other, tilting slighting as if still processing all that had transpired in such a short amount of time. Then, as if a beat signaled them, they both scrambled out the tent after the League leaders.
"Ormi!" There was a careening screech, the loud whir of a high powered fan shuttering as its power source was abruptly cut off. Erie sat proudly astride the hover's controls while Rouk, legs akimbo and grasping a bag of supplies to his chest, was holding onto the railing for dear life as the hover slid sideways along the path, drifting towards whose name was called. She had shed her arms of the constrictive sleeves of her uniform, tying it around her waist below the tight violet undershirt. Ormi noticed she also traded her heels for flat-soled and heavy boots.
"I couldn't drive in heels." She caught his eyes and quickly explained, "Borrowed the hover from Tobli! Or sort of- I'll bring it back when I'm done anyways. Was hurrying too, so Taji and Daji are still tracking his H.E.A.R.T, but as soon as they do-" There was a chiming at her hip, "Speak of the devil!"
Ormi snatched it off her belt as he clambered onto the hover behind her. She started the engines again with a roaring rumble, they speeding off as he hollered into the answered call. "Where's to?"
"Djose crossroads! Four miles east of the temple." Daji's fingers at home base danced over the oscillo-finder, which of the many mysterious functions it could do, finding was its primary operation. Glowing rings radiated from his fingertips, and it happily chirped and beeped at him as multiple units synced to the archaic technology received the information. "Taji is devising a way to call all the Waywards home again, so we'll have something short of an army in an hour- Fucking pigeons!- Uhp, or make that a couple of hours." Daji's voice sunk as his brother grappled with means of spreading messages quickly without use of his beloved invention, but he recovered. "Won't be long now! Everybody who has a H.E.A.R.T. unit was contacted about the coordinates via private channels and is already in route."
"Including the Boss?"
"Especially the Boss!" Daji sought the red insignia emblem that flashed on the screen over the plain dots that rapidly closed in on the dark blue heart, "You better hurry, or she'll beat you there."
"Thanks kiddo, we'll call ya back when we get's 'im!" Ormi released the button and threw out a hand to grasp at the hover as they took another precarious swing sideways, "Whoa babe, youse knows how to works this?"
"Sure do!" Erie guided the nose of the hover skyward as it ramped a small ravine, they intending to cut across the map and were thus off road. The skids landed with a knee jerking thud, throwing Ormi nearly off the hover entirely were it not for the hand he had gripping the side railings. Erie suddenly blinked uplifting her head, before looking over her shoulder, "Did you just call me babe?"
"It's the boots!" Ormi shouted into the wind, hardly an explanation, but it would have to suffice as he hollered next. "Watch where you're going, Erie!"
She turned back and lifted a thumb behind her as she tossed to the rushing winds, "Don't worry about the bumps, I got this!"
"Ooh kay," Ormi nervously bubbled on a laugh, encouraging though his face was etched with doubt, "I-I believes in youse."
Rouk threw an arm around Ormi, scared of being flung into the scenery flying past.
They had left him alone again, his chest falling shallowly. There was strange tingling in his limbs, his fingers clenching against the table and tugging in vain against the restraints. He inhaled in through his nose, trying to discern how long it had been.
And how long he had left.
Hours must have passed by. Through the cavern walls and surrounding dripping minerals was the stillness that resulted in only the event of quiet boredom permeating. No one moved in panic or shuffled about- it was as if the whole place had emptied of any living soul. But there was still one, and he breathed in sharply again. There was a warm oozing in his lower belly, not all together unpleasant which was surprising considering the circumstances. He craned his neck against his chest, trying to take a peek at his wound. It had closed, in a manner of speaking, rough and patchy. It was oddly webbed, the holes in some of the spokes of the shape made apparent by the spreading of his belly on the continued process of in-taking air. The injury needed more than just potions, and whatever poking about they had done. Yevon knows what it needed, but it had to be surgery or something close to it. They had neglected to do so, why? He didn't know. He let his head thump back into the table, his throat bobbing on a hard swallow.
Then the corner of his mouth twitched, and he laughed.
His cackling voice echoed through the passageways, entering the ears of the Hooded Man, who stood with his arms crossed at the ledge that served as a desk, staring down at the H.E.A.R.T. unit.
"What's your next move?" He muttered to the device, speaking to himself and the Syndicate Leader in equal parts. Logos's hysterical cackling died away, and for that he was grateful, as it was a little unnerving.
The device did not answer him. He was growing impatient with Leblanc's silence. He swiped up Logos's H.E.A.R.T., to speak with the one who waited on the other end.
The red light was flashing again. Ruckus, part of the men that Nooj was already mobilizing with out of the selection of still bloodied and war-scarred Leaguers, approached him and held the beeping device out. His bespectacled face leered downwards towards the annoying jingle that rung out. Leblanc, a new sword in her hand, moved past the Youth Leaguers that tried to block her path again, drawing her close enough to the Meyvn that she could meet his eyes uncontested. She was making another silent plea for her H.E.A.R.T. in his grasp, he refused to give it over.
"I'll stall him," Was his explanation for withholding, before he answered the call. Leblanc narrowed her eyes at him. She did not like being dismissed or ignored, even if her requests were made in silence.
Nooj's voice was civil, a characteristically neutral tone. "What is it?"
"Ahh, the Meyvn Nooj." The Man was simpering, "Is Leblanc nearby?"
"Of course," Nooj smiled, for he sensed that the Man could see him now on the other screen, as he could not before when he had made a call to every device that this network of H.E.A.R.T.s contained.
"And what does she think of my request?"
"I do not often miss an opportunity to die." Nooj said, as a way of deflecting. "Where would you have us do the exchange?"
"Oh, you won't have it that easy." The Man, walking now deeper into mottled shadows, took his time as he wrinkled his nose in disgust. "I'm not to be tricked. Where is Leblanc?"
Nooj allowed Leblanc, furious and red-faced, to enter the frame at his shoulder.
"Good." The Man, feeling in power as each of his demands, small though they were, was being complied with. "Hello, Leblanc. Care to see how your friend is doing?"
"He better be alive." Leblanc said tightly, the curled ends of her hair ruffling with electrified energy.
"He most certainly is." The hooded figure assured, finally stopping in his short walk to flip the view, nauseatingly wavering, over the wearily blinking eyes of the gunner laid out on the table. A trickle of blood still marked his chin, but it appeared dry, not fresh. He was pale and drawn, but by the medical equipment that skipped into view as the uncertain hand recorded, it was obvious the had received medical attention during the critical hour that had passed since the first contact. Leblanc let herself feel minimal relief from this. Now she let the rage and the want to throttle the Man that hovered over Logos to take over.
"Where are you?" Leblanc shouted. When I find you, you're dead.
"That's not to be disclosed." The Man grunted.
"How then-" Nooj spoke calmly, "Do you expect us to make an exchange?"
"By my rules, of course. You're to come alone Leblanc, with only the Meyvn. No Youth League, no Machine Faction, and no Baralai. And none of your Syndicate. You will come to the coordinates I will give to you once, and you best not try anything or I'll rip his throat out. I promise you that will be close at hand as well." To demonstrate this his clawed fingers clasped over Logos's neck. The gunner, tiredly gazing upwards and on the verge of passing out, awakened with a jolt. He bared his teeth, to little use as the sound of a straining clunk and the motions of shoulder revealed he could do nothing to ward off the threatening action. Leblanc prickled upwards, her nose crinkling around the bridge. The hand was removed, his point made.
"Soon," The man promised, "Better hurry. I won't give you a very large window to act, so you can't mount any half-brained rescue. We meet in an hour."
Her fist, tight at her chest, lowered. She felt more empowered now, but still she growled, like a caged tiger. Little did the man know that he wasn't on the safe side of those imagined bars. "Where?"
Ormi and the hover, piloted by Erie and rattling the poor Dr. Goon, came to a skidding stop near the wild lands east of Djose. The engine was silenced by Ormi's mimed suggestions, which he had to tap on Erie's shoulder before she noticed, intent to transverse the world at break-neck speeds to get to where they were going. Which was, to say the least, accomplished in record time. Djose was not technically geographically far, and so much distance could be covered by a speeding hover which could break speeds over 100 knots at full tilt. In an hour and half they had come upon the blinking blue heart on the communicator's screen. Word that others were gathering in Guadosalam and heading towards the way of Djose and Mushroom Rock Road had reached them, and so Ormi was feeling very good as they neared their destination. Their task, now, was to scout ahead, and if the opportunity arose, nab Logos like a neglected sphere right out of their hands.
Sorry, I had to use youse as bait. He had apologized to the Meyvn, who seemed to understand, and was a fast thinker too since he offered him possible numbers based on the attack of the Headquarters, even pointing out that it was most likely more. Ormi thanked him for his compliance in his half-worked out plans- he only needed the Hooded Man's attention off of any possible retaliation coming from the North, at least for now.
Ormi made a private call to Leblanc, Nooj answering again, confirming the location and ETA of their rendezvous. Now was just time for some much needed reconnaissance so that Leblanc and Nooj wouldn't be caught in a trap.
He was large and noticeable, that's what made him such a good bodyguard for Leblanc. But there were times, techniques and training from so long ago, that had him blending into unlikely things and stalking from a distance. Ormi could move as slow as a turtle and hold still as a boulder for hours, although his quick observations deemed so long a sleuthing unnecessary. There were quite a few soldiers, although they were loosely disciplined and clearly shaken from their bad invasions. Lacking leadership too, if their complaints bouncing off the walls of the grey canyon gave anything away. The Hooded Man, with a small party, left to meet Leblanc and Nooj further in the ravine, cutting the Syndicate off from them. Ormi's small head sunk back behind the rocks and he belly-crawled backwards towards where he had left the two goons.
"Time for a covert operation." Ormi whispered to Erie and Rouk, that latter of which was recovering in their brief pause from their wild ride. Although his announcement was enough to make him laugh, he held back, in case the booming sound alerted any nearby guards. Covert was more Logos's thing than his, but he could do this for him. "We have to work fast though. They're getting...ansty and I's got a bad feeling. Logos is inside a cave, with maybe thirty guys guarding him."
"And three of us?" Rouk groused, "I'm not young enough and I don't get paid enough to take out ten barrel-chested men on my own. Besides, most likely I'll have my arms full of the gunner."
Ormi shut his mouth, disappointed in his shortsightedness. In some ways, he was used to dealing with the Boss, who while sneaky in most situations, was more than a little reckless, often times dealing with any unavoidable challenges by charging right in.
"Lead the way, Boss." Erie smiled, and he jerked his head back up. She gestured back towards the parked hover. "Taji and Daji packed up some Snakies before we left. And I have these."
Snakies was an affectionate term for the various Bandoleer machines in their arsenal. Recoils, Battlesnakes, Viper Snipers, and Flak Pythons, infused with fiend-like personalities by dark secret magics, they were the most living machina Ormi had ever seen. Created from stolen plans of a sniper guild, they had been the pride inventions of the Sydnicate's own young geniuses, at least until the H.E.A.R.T. was developed. And the these Erie referred to, were grenades and bombs in a rucksack.
"We'll have to make it work without an army. There ain't enough time." Ormi nodded, looking over the supplies. With only four Bandoleers and the explosives, it was a risky play, but it could work. "Gear up. Rouk keep your head down and stay behind me, we're going straight for Logos. Erie, youse got command of the snakes."
There was a clicking as they activated, a rasping of their mechanisms as they unraveled and squirmed free of the confines of the hover's crate hold. One of each type came free with the hiss of their bodies accompanying the swift movement as they wrapped around the three members, the artillery mounted 'heads' bumping into Ormi's side as they coiled about him especially. He gave their heads a firm pat, more of a metallic thunk, with his fist so he knew they could 'feel' it as best as their sensors might to translate that into affection.
Ormi looked to each of them, even the machinas. He acknowledged the danger he was putting them in, the risk he was undertaking along side them. It was very possible, even assured, that one of them might be hurt in trying to save the gunner. Hopefully it just be him, or sad to say, the snakes. They could rebuilt, and he could heal after dragging Logos half-alive out of there. He took a steadying breath before nodding to each of them in turn. "Be quick and be smart, alright guys?"
They each nodded. Rouk pushing up his glasses behind his mask and Erie pinning her out of the way of her shining green eyes. The snakes even rattled as they respectfully bowed their heads. Ormi huffed, turning his back to them to lead the charge. He unhooked the overlarge shield from his back.
"Okay, time to go."
Rattattattatta! The gatling gun of the cobra's head rattled throughout the cave system. The flashing lights flickering in seizing succession, exploding like firecrackers and echoing into bursting eardrums.
Leblanc raised her head, as she heard the attack start as the small team of Youth Leaguers, so as to not be caught in their dishonesty, navigated the lost paths of the Djose canyons. She recognized the sound, so often it had been heard surrounding her in a tough fight. Only she and Nooj stood in the narrow ravine, the others (Yaibal, Lucil, and Ruckus) nearby and watching them. She turned to him and nodded once, as he lifted a brow.
"Was that his signal?" Nooj asked, and she knew who he referred to. Ormi. He had made one last call to them before he started spying on the cave entrance waiting for an opportunity to nab Logos, in perhaps a foreseeable turn of events as the Hooded Man did not quite play to expectations or promises. Leblanc nodded. Ormi hadn't specified what the signal would be, but the sound of the snakes were unmistakable. "Well," Nooj seemed satisfied, and adjusted on his cane and took a firm step forward, "We best hurry."
Rattattattata! The Battlesnake whipped it's marred casing behind the spinning cylinders of their muzzle into the chest of a rebel, knocking him into the wall with a concerning crack. From there it turned, lithe and nimble as a real creature, and sprayed it's bullets from its nose towards upcoming attackers. They fell.
Ormi stumbled in the dark, the light from the distant snakes fired ammunition giving him only momentary sight in which to navigate his surroundings. The walls were close and narrow, not great for fighting and even worse for forcing their way through the surprisingly labyrinth passages. The Hooded Man had chosen his temporary base well. Rouk was practically glued to his heels, not wanting to get caught up in the destruction going on around him. The Dr. Goon's hands were covering his ears against the rising violence, his bag slung by the strap across his chest, and there were moments he screwed his eyes shut. He'd force them open past the slim rectangular frames under his shaded mask, more afraid of losing his comrade in the dark and the twists ahead, then the haunting memories from Crusader days. Although the latter made it difficult. Ormi himself was feeling an eerie case of recollection too, of another close mucous-lined cave. The bullets and the sounds of dying did not make this any less familiar.
But they would not be stopped.
It wasn't hurting anymore. It wasn't...right, but pain was definitely not something that bothered him. His...wits were not about him. His perception shaky. He remembered the cold hand at his throat, knew his body reacted instinctively in place of his usual deliberate motions. It was...strange. Like nothing could touch him, although he was aware of the things that did. Hyper-aware. The table was cool and pleasantly smooth on his aching back. The restraints were tight, they the only bit of discomfort he experienced. Although not enough now in his haze to be downright unbearable.
He knew the cold hand, attached to the Man that spoke to the Boss, his last link to her and the outside world, might return. Because he could hear the gunfire.
He knew he had more attachment to his life at some point, for some reason. But he could not logically make those connections. It was just...bliss. In a moment of breathing, he knew himself to be alive in the moment and that was enough. The future, even near at hand, was hard to focus on. The gunner was aware of the threat, as aware as he was of the concept of home or comfort in general. He was aware of it, but not concerned with its faraway presence.
He hiccuped, the feeling a little hard in his chest. He usually would find that painful, but he wasn't in his usual state. He wasn't normal. Instead he burbled on laughter again.
"What- tha-?" He had enough sense to be confused, even as he continued to cackle weakly with waning strength. Logos pulled with futility at the restraints. "I want- out of these-" He mumbled to himself, his throat and tongue dry. He pulled harder, the veins in his arms and shoulders wriggling through to make an appearance pulsing under is skin as he struggled with the left side especially, his good arm. There was the creaking of extending leather. It was slight, but he was feeling that exuberant moment when something was about to give. There was a shift in his arm and he gasped, suddenly thrust back into a certain amount of consciousness.
The...right side was his good side. The left side was the bad one. His wrist ached, biting through the fog of drugged euphoria. He bit a sharp cry, letting loose the tension he was placing on his injuried arm. That was stupid-
He swallowed, and felt the air slide down his throat like sand. He wanted water. Logos gnawed on the air, finding a certain amount of stability again, before trying the move again, on the other side.
"I want-out-" Logos nearly cracked his teeth, finding it hard to focus on anything else but being free. His bicep over exerted itself, it would ache later if he didn't just straight pull it altogether, but he kept pushing up against the leather encasing his wrist. There was a loud pinging and he punched the air as it was let loose suddenly. His right arm was free.
"Thank fuck-" Logos blinked, swinging his arm around and over his chest to get feeling back in it again. The dazed swarming colors was prickling back into his vision and his brain, making things murky, but he wasn't entirely sure he didn't welcome it. Thoughts slogged through like in mud, but it numbed the discomforts, blocked out the receptors that told him he was hurt. He turned his head against the table, eyes peering around for the one thing he could think about.
Water. His throat was searing, even in the delirium. There was a cart, bearing many tools and potions, and a nearby cup. He stretched his arm, fingers gliding over the smooth surface of tabletop before coming upon the cup, barely with his fingertips. He convinced it closer by wiggling his straining fingers against it, turning into his grasp until it met his palm. He slid the cup with a shivering elbow towards him, it edging the wheeled cart closer to him. It bore a swishing liquid, and not thinking clearly, he drank it without investigating the contents further.
He coughed, the diamond particles of potion dappling his lips, but it hurt like hellfire to drink. Yet he was incredibly thirsty all at once. In a haze, wondering if the first was a fluke, he brought it closer and tried to ingest the liquid again, before gagging- rejecting it entirely. The cup was lost and broke to pieces on the floor. His eyes watered and starry blue slipped from his mouth and over the table he half pulled himself to lay sideways on, his broken arm flush against his lower back. He jolted as he heaved, the sparkling sweet smelling stuff filling his nose with its suddenly acidic stench.
He moaned, eyes searching around and clearing again. He tried to figure why it had gone so badly- just the simple act of trying to quench his thirst. It had to be potion, the smell and look of it told him so. But, maybe he had been wrong. After all, the unmarked cup could have anything in it. He reached out again, the desert of his mouth and throat, crackling in his nose and fevered face, bid him to find something to drink. His hand clenched around the neck of a standard bottle of Hi-potion, one that could be purchased in a standard travel agency. It was unopened, which guaranteed its identity. His teeth ripped the cork, and he spilled the curative concoction into his mouth.
There was the initial reaction again, of nausea, but with his need he pushed through it. He forced his throat to function, to take it and swallow. He turned onto his back to tilt the bottle higher, to empty it like burning alcohol, hard to drink but done so anyways. When it was emptied, he tossed it to shatter elsewhere, gasping as the heat in his face heightened.
"Ah, Hells-" He took his free hand and grasped at his chest, where a strange feeling was wiggling through his ribs. A sort of rippling, giddy feeling. He laughed again, a pained expression on his face. The sensation found its way into his stomach and his partially restricted legs. He flexed his toes, just to see if he could, and cackled again as he had been doing off and on.
Was he going mad?
Rattattattatta! There was that music again.
There was an all mighty crashing, a roaring of a beast so fierce that it caused Logos to jump, although a sleepy smile still dominated his features in a lop-sided way. A path of blood running down the side of his face, Ormi appeared in the natural archway. He blared as he saw him, "Logos!"
"Hullo." Logos whistled next, and chuckled low in his throat. "Thought I'd die before you got here."
"I'll get youse out." Ormi ripped the other restraint as if it was crumpled paper, it only momentarily resisting his pulling fist before snapping. Logos was touched on the forehead next. "youse okay? Jeez, youse are burning up. Rouk!"
"I'm right here, let's see." He was pinning his mask out of the way, glaring at his patient over the angular glass of his spectacles. "Well, that's closed enough to get him out of here." He said to his wound, before looking him in the face. "What the-?"
Logos was giving him a sort of dopey expression not usual of his character. Even in the stressful situation that they were all in, it was markedly odd. Many thoughts tumbled in his mind before his silvery eyes spotted the nearby strewn cart. "Oh no- Logos how much potion did you get?"
"Lost count." He answered lazily.
"Whats that mean?" Ormi asked, ears pricking to the sound of Erie crying out Fira and other spells, the sounds of the snakes, and more pressing the clash of swords and banging of rifles. It was hard, in this quarters, to tell where it was all coming from, and impossible to know who had the upper hand. His pressing desire to be gone of this place had him jogging in one spot with the shield before him.
The doctor was seemingly taking his sweet time, in an effort not to injure the gunner further, by undoing the restraints holding down his legs. He fetched and was unfolding the nearby shirt they had taken off Logos before they tortured him too, and forcing the laughing gunner to put it on was clearly a struggle. The Goon secured the chin strap on the gunner's helm for him, placing a hand and thumping his skull through the metal to check its certainty on his head before he answered the anxious warrior.
"I think he's hyper-dosed, Ormi."
A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed the last two chapters worth of perspective whiplash. It was hard to write! If you didn't like it, now is where it ends so that's good. Is it where you thought it was going? I hope not! We have twist and turns in this slow burn but it all goes for a good cause!
Thank you for anybody still reading it after all these years.