Chapter 13: Deals and Sacrifices
PreA/N: Get those translators ready! I used the English-Al Bhed translator with phonetics(http://www.pixelscapes.com/twoflower/albhed.html) to write my Al Bhed language. I'm lazy and dun wanna learn it by heart. I'm not -that- hardcore :P ^^;;; Oh, and watch out for some heavy violence in this chapter (talking to you, Shad ^.~) ~ No One
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"They never fail who die in a great cause." - Lord Byron
"Ultimately, we're all dead men. Sadly we cannot chose how. But, we can decide how we meet that end in order that we are remembered as men." - Unknown.
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"Fru kuac drana?"
Weston blinked at the blond haired man, not understanding a word the young man had said. But, the five-foot six or so tall man had a gun; thus, one would normally want to know what he was saying.
Weston turned to Gatta, raising a brow.
"That's Al-Bhed language. Most of them don't speak Spiran."
"You mean English."
Gatta's brow rose and Weston left it at that. Gatta then turned to the young man and said slowly, as if he was calculating every word as he spoke, "Fa yna vneahtc uv Myto Rikku."
The armed man didn't seem to buy it at first, but then shrugged his shoulders. "Cra'c eh dra drent dufan, fedr Cid."
Gatta nodded and turned to Weston. "See that tower, over there?"
"Oh, the big one with all the sparks flying from it. Yeah, it's kinda hard to miss."
"Lead the way, asshole."
The two men laughed and headed in the tower's direction, leaving the young man to wonder what the joke was.
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"Ynah'd druca vneahtc uv ouinc, tyikrdan?"
"Oac, pid fro drao yna rana, E tu hud ghuf."
"Drao yna rana vun cibbund yht E ghuf ed."
"E tuh'd ihtancdyht fro fa lyh'd ramb dras...E sayh, fa tu ceta fedr Yuna tuh'd fa?"
"Dryd ec hud dra buehd. Dra buehd rana ec uin baubma'c cyvado. E sicd ahcina dra cyvado uv uin baubma vencd. E lyh'd zicd ku vekrd cusa fyn. Ed'c ran bnupmas vun huf. Drana'c hu naycuh vun uin baubma du kad ehjumjat."
"Pid vydran..."
"Excuse us..." Gatta said as he stepped into a large metallic room. His voice echoed off of the steel walls.
Weston stepped in after him and the door slid closed. He smirked and remarked to no one in particular, "It's like Star-Trek."
He noticed Rikku and the older man stare at him with wondering eyes. In return he grinned and shrugged. Gatta shot him a glance and Weston understood the meaning; "Shut it."
The older, bald man stood from his crouched position. His face was stern and one could tell he had not aged easily. His brow furrowed and he crossed his arms. "I'm sorry, but we can't help ya."
"Even after all that Yuna did for your people, Cid?"
"If I got into this with Yuna, my people would be hurt. I can't let that happen."
"We're only asking for supplies. My men have swords, Nyka's army has machina."
"I can't help ya, Gatta."
Rikku groaned and the four stood in silence in the small office room at the base of the tower. A few minutes into the awkward silence, Weston groaned and pushed himself past Gatta. He reached into his fatigues' hip pockets and pulled the two Al Bhed sidearms out, laying them on the metal desk in front of Cid and Rikku with an audible clunk.
"I need ammo for these."
Cid leaned forward. "I'm not going to just -give- you anything."
"Then I'll pay for it."
Gatta stepped up. "No, Weston. Don't pay them. It wouldn't be-"
"I'll do whatever I goddamned want with my money."
"How much do ya have?" asked Cid.
"I have about sixty in my pocket now."
"That'll get ya thirty clips of ten."
"So two Gil a clip?"
"Yup."
"How much for, say, another sidearm?"
"Thirty Gil, unless you want the quick-fire model. That's fifty Gil."
Weston hmmed, then pointed to the weapons lying on the table. "What are these?"
"Quick-firing models. Just pull the trigger and boom, whole lotta lead heading wherever you aim it. But, it does have a bit of a kick if ya just hold the damn trigger."
"Yeah. Burst fire would be more appropriate for an automatic."
"So, ya buying the ammo?"
"Yeah," and with that, Weston set a jingling pouch from his pocket onto the table. Cid nodded and bent down, opening a small rectangular box. From it he pulled a large handful of "clips" and set them onto the table for counting. The "clips" were really just a strip of metal with a notch to hold the bullets in. The bullets, to Weston, looked much like the full- metal jacket shells he used with his SOCOM. The primer was triangular, however, and he noticed after picking a clip up that the bullets were remarkably lighter.
Cid seemed to notice Weston studying the bullets. "Something wrong?"
"These bullets are a lot lighter that what I'm used to. Certainly lighter than the hulky ones used by the Yevonites."
"Ah, that's 'cause we use no powder with these guns!"
"And how do you accomplish that?"
"It's complicated, really."
"I've got time."
Gatta rolled his eyes and looked to Rikku, who was obviously bored.
Cid grinned and said smugly, as if proud of the achievement, "This is our most recent development. The primer is a metal alloy that's super- conductive. When our weapon's charged hammer hits it, it creates an electromagnetic pulse, or "shock." That shock in turn creates a temporary magnetic field between the sides of the barrel's conductive housing, ya know, the piece of metal on the front that don't move. The bullet itself is then pulled from the casin and travels along the concentrated field gaining acceleration all the while. It hits the air goin' real fast. It's not an instant hit, but damn if it ain't one that hits in the blink of an eye.
"The bullet is notched, and fans out after it makes contact with flesh or whatever you're aiming at, cept paper. That way, the bullet doesn't keep going, but damn, whatever you hit goes flying if it aint screwed to something. Leaves a big hole, too. The spent case is ejected when the electromagnetic field reverses and then disappears, making the slide move, ejecting the bullet. This also pulls the clip down, givin' ya another bullet ready to fire."
Weston blinked, looking for the notches in the bullet's lead. "So...it's a rail gun?"
"Electro-magnetic projectile accelerator."
"But doesn't that need some sort of power supply?"
"You noticed, I hope, that the guns were warm when ya pulled them from your pockets."
"They'd been in there awhile."
"Well, we've been yakking for a while, pick one up."
Weston did so and noticed that the gun had not lost its warmth against the cold table.
Cid laughed.
Weston smirked. "It's battery operated."
"Sorta. The source is a stone just below the hammer. It's really tiny. The stone has some sort of power in it that keeps the gun running. I've had mine for months and it hasn't stopped workin' yet."
"So no clue as to how the stone keeps all of its power?"
"Not a clue. But, hey, it works, right?"
"I'll find that out for myself soon. Any sort of muzzle flash?"
"Unfortunately, yeah. It's just from the pulse creating the magnetic field, not the firing of the bullet itself. But everything happens so fast, it seems like one action."
"Well, now they'll know where I am."
"Not if they're dead first!" shouted Rikku, catching Weston off guard.
They all laughed and Cid finished counting out the clips. He bent down and got a small satchel, placing the clips into it. He handed it to Weston, smiled, and said, "Pleasure doing business with ya."
Weston turned back to Gatta, holding the satchel up. "See? Money talks. How much do the Crusaders have to play with?"
"Weston, I don't think so. That money is for the soldiers' salaries."
"It's called 'budgeting'. It's a fairly chic` concept. You take a certain amount and set it aside for uniforms, or rations, or salaries. You take another set amount and use it for weaponry. You spread the money out instead of having some big stockpile and, therefore, you use it more wisely. And if we can buy ourselves a weapon contract with the Al Bhed, why refuse to give your men adequate protection?"
Gatta thought this over a minute, not wanting to go along with it. It was absurd. "Contracting" an entire race for weapon production. But, if it could be done, it'd give them a fighting chance against the Yevonites, who easily outnumbered and outgunned the Crusader forces.
Gatta looked to Cid, who also seemed to be in an inner-conflict. Rikku watched her father anxiously, desperately wanting to help Yuna out in any form possible. Finally Cid said, "It can be done, but I'll need adequate payment. I've got a Home to rebuild and a people to protect. You won't be getting our best stuff. These sidearms are the line. Nothing better. No regular or quick-shot rifles, no explosives, and no mechanoids."
Weston's eyes widened. "Mechs?"
Rikku smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I pilot them sometimes."
Weston blinked. "Combat mechs?"
Rikku laughed. "What else?"
Cid cleared his throat. "Only sidearms."
Gatta sighed. "So, how much are we looking at?"
Cid hmmed, pressing a finger to his chin a moment. "That depends."
Weston nodded. "How much for ten thousand pisto- 'sidearms' and ten clips per weapon?"
Cid thought a moment, doing the math. After a moment, he said lowly. "That'd run ya about two hundred thousand Gil."
Gatta blinked. "Two...two...two hundred thousand Gil?! That's a million potions and then some."
Cid's brow furrowed. "The materials, ammo, and labor are included. Not to mention, you'll be taking weaponry from my own military. And, if I were to charge you full price, it'd be half a million Gil and more. Five hundred and twenty thousand, to be correct."
Gatta growled and looked to Weston. "That's only fifty or so thousand short of emptying the Crusaders' entire reserve."
Weston grinned. "Siphon out the remaining fifty."
Gatta's face turned rather red. "Weston, do you know how hard it is to order around a soldier who cannot bring bread to his table?"
"This is war, Gatta, not peace time. The soldier doesn't have time to go home to his table. He lives off of what the military provides him, and I'm not referring to money."
"This isn't your precious US Army, Weston. Goodness knows if we had the resources you claim your military has, we'd storm Bevelle right now and personally drag Nyka through the streets. But this isn't a tight body of patriotic men. If you talk to half of the men in the barracks, you'll know what I mean."
Weston smirked and poked Gatta's small chest. "Gatta, why -did- the Crusaders' fall behind Yuna? Because Nyka caused their unemployment across most of Spira. You yourself know how hard it is to fit forty thousand men onto one small island. But your men complied, because they have a general dislike for that bastard in Bevelle. If -you- did your job as a leader, they'd be rolling in the rafters, ready to get revenge for the events that've passed."
"I'm not going to get my men in some homicidal rage, Weston. Ever tried to command a man whose soul agenda is to kill some guy that rubbed him the wrong way? Everything must have its reason, Weston. And to take their salaries away? What reason do we have other than putting away the swords they grew up and trained with and replacing them with some Al Bhed weapon? That's not a boost of morale."
"But it's something that has to be done, otherwise, your swordsmen are sitting ducks for Nyka's rifles. Think of the future. Think of ending this conflict rather than the personal well-being of every single man under your command. They'll do their job, as long as there's a job to do."
Gatta sighed and looked to Weston, and then to Cid. "Can I at least pay you in installments?"
"Yeah. That'd be a lot to bring in one trip, anyway."
Gatta smiled a bitter smile.
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Ughol growled as he looked to the rising moon. "If only we had known sooner..."
"Something wrong, sir," one of the men closest to him asked.
"We'll be there by early morning light. I wanted to make a night attack."
"Well, sir, maybe it's better we attack at dawn anyway. They'll just be waking up and not fully capable of a counter move."
"True...but under darkness we'd have even more of an advantage."
"Yeah..."
Ughol turned from the soldier and looked through his pair of binoculars. Land was in sight, but it wasn't too close by. The waiting process had only begun.
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Fagan turned over in the bed, the covers sliding off of him as Elaine did the same. This was the coldest she had ever been to him and it was starting to fill his mind with worry. He sighed and turned again, brushing her back with the back of his hand. She seemed to shudder and, at least it seemed to him, whimpered, before sliding forward, away from his hand. He sighed sadly and got out of bed, obviously not prepared to sleep in such a cold situation.
He walked along the far wall, tracing his fingers along the odd shaped staff that he carried to the temple everyday. Nyka had given it to him as a gift for becoming a council member at such a young age. He gripped it and stared into the blue crystal in the center. The crystal always had this warmth and glow to it that Fagan had never seemed to be able to explain. Nyka had said it was some holy relic, but that was probably just the old man's propaganda.
Fagan huffed, letting his breath hit the table's surface as he sat down. He had to admit that his faith was wavering, despite dreading the realization of it. And to be a New Yevon councilman with faltering faith was not a healthy position to be in, especially during any sort of conflict.
With a growl he stood up and looked to his hanging coat. He grabbed it and wrapped it around his robed body. Quietly, he stepped out into the night air, clutching the coat tight around him. He silently shut the door behind him and began his walk along the sidewalk.
The time was only a little after midnight and Fagan could tell it without even looking at a clock. The ruffians were out in full swing. Mostly comprised Yevonite fundamentalist young men and women from the Youth Alliance, Bevelle's night crowd was a tad rowdy. But Fagan could tell he was safe, for though he felt eyes on him, his prestige as a councilman would deter any confrontation. He continued his walk and turned onto an opposite street, walking along one of the many market streets that littered Bevelle's neighborhoods. It was closed, of course, save a couple of item shops, but even at night, the structure that housed the stores and lots was impressive. It was stone with sweeping arches and steeples, reminding Fagan of the temple. As a matter of fact, most or all of Bevelle's architecture was based off of the temple. He could only imagine what the city looked like from the air.
He rounded another street and passed a couple of the Youth Alliance miscreants. What Fagan had never understood was why Nyka had never done anything about Bevelle's night life. He thought it had to do with the unbreakable loyalty the young men and women of the group showed to Nyka. "Or," Fagan remarked to himself, "it could be their impressionable nature..."
"You say something?" A young boy of about fifteen looked at Fagan. The boy was taller than Fagan, but had the same lanky quality that Fagan hated most about himself.
"No," said Fagan timidly. The young boy shrugged and walked on, while Fagan hunched his shoulders forward. The chill that was running up his back wasn't from the wind, but from awaited him at home. He rounded another corner and could see his building in the distance, making another chill run through him. The building's medieval architecture didn't help reassure him either. The cold aura the building gave off was like that of the aura surrounding his wife. She was cold and kept her back to him, no matter how hard he pressed her. He couldn't quite figure out what he had particularly done, save tell her of his worry over Nyka's "Crusade." Of course, she was a die-hard Yevonite, always making up some excuse to dismiss the events of two years passed. She claimed Yuna to be a storyteller. But, as Fagan had pointed out, the proof enough was that Yuna defeated Sin and lived. Yunalesca was gone as well, offering further proof that, indeed, Yevon was gone.
He growled, knowing that all his education was for naught, for he was worshiping a 'god' that had truly disappeared. But, his faith was also concreted because, in fact, Yevon -was- real. But what Yevon really was, be it man or beast, he didn't know. And would never know, in fact. He hated his questioning nature, especially now, when New Yevon needed him to be strong. But it's hard to go along with something that feels so inhumane. The 'event' in Kilika had disgusted Fagan to no end, but not because of the methods the Crusaders used to defeat Nyka's soldiers, but because of all the loss of innocent life.
With a sigh, he finally stopped in front of his building, not wanting to open the door. Finally, after some indecision, he entered and headed up the stairs. He slowly made it to his dwelling and quietly opened the door.
Not surprisingly, his wife was fast asleep, either oblivious to his night walk or she didn't much care. Either way, he still wasn't going to enter that cold bed. After fixing himself a cup of tea, he fell heavily into the cushiony chair in the den/study and didn't even drink from the cup. Instead, he laid it upon the stand next to the chair and quickly fell asleep.
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"Think Yuna'll go for this?"
Gatta shrugged and stopped, pulling Weston to the side. "I don't know. I hope not."
"And why's that? So your men can get slaughtered?"
"No, so we don't have to include the Al Bhed in this. It's not their fight."
"Last time I took count, Cid hated Yevon and isn't that reason enough to join in the fight?"
"This isn't some childish brawl, it's a war, Weston. A war where millions of people's lives are at stake. To include even more in that count would be ridiculous. I just fear that this little "deal" is going to get them involved somehow."
Weston sighed. "It's just an arms deal. Nothing big."
"Maybe not where you come from, but I know in Nyka's mind it's 'blasphemy'."
Gatta sighed and leaned against a large metal crate.
Weston stood before him, tilting his head. "So, now that's over, we can go back, right?"
"I suppose. But we still have to think of the consequences and a way to break the news to Yuna...
"Uh, Gatta..."
"And then we'll have to get transport material for the Gil..."
"Gatta."
"And after that-"
"Gatta!"
"What!?"
"That's not our airship, is it?"
Gatta looked up and in the direction Weston's fingertip. "Probably one of the Al Bhed's supply vehicles."
"Then why is it getting ready to fire its missiles?"
Gatta squinted in time to see a burst of fire from one of the sides of the airship.
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"We're getting there a little early, sir."
Ughol laughed, bobbing up and down on the back of his Chocobo. His broadsword was clanging against his back, where it was loosely strapped. "Looks that way don't it?"
A sergeant nodded and dropped off pace a bit as the lunar-lighted Blitzball sphere came into view.
Ughol grinned, pleased with himself. He had made it to Luca in record time, and to exploit his good fortune, he'd siege it just as quickly. He'd show the Yevonites little mercy, for they hadn't shown much themselves.
He quickly surmised the "plan" he had formulated on the boat ride. The soldiers would attack in one large volley, for Ughol expected the 'idiot' Yevonites to bunch up in one particular area.
He grinned once more, gaining even more confidence. He yelled to his riding men, "When we take Luca back, free drinks for you all!"
The men cheered and rode even harder.
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It wasn't the explosion that made Weston jump, but the creaking sound of metal that he had heard years ago in a September Eleventh documentary; that same sound that could be taken for someone taking a nail to a chalkboard, but magnified millions of decibels. Had his chest not already been pressed into the sandy ground, he would've it so after the horrendous sound that the top of one of the complete towers made as it hit the ground. The shockwave that traveled the earth also jarred his nerves. A cloud of dust and small metal debris funneled outwards from the impact zone and covered the entire structure, which was some feat, seeing as the structure was the size of a metropolis.
Furiously wiping at his eyes and trying to snort out the granules of sand sticking to his nose hairs, he stood. He opened his tearing eyes but only saw in a fuzzy 'v' shape due to the sand still stuck to his eye. And, since the air was thick with a yellowish fog, seeing wasn't going to do him much good anyway.
"Gatta!" he called, coughing afterwards. No answer came. He called twice more, and then began to walk forward. With a dense thud, his booted feet hit something thick and he almost tripped. Luckily he found his feet, but then bent down only to discover the toe of his boot stuck into the torn torso of a limbless and headless body. With a yelp he jumped backwards and turned, half-sprinting in the opposite direction. He bumped into something and fell over, trying to squint in the dust fog. All he could make out was a figure. The figure bent a bit and Weston could feel someone grabbing him by the arm. The next thing he knew, he was in a large wooden crate, where the fog had not penetrated.
"Hold your eyes open!" he heard a female voice yell at him. He didn't think to question the command and did so. A moment later, a cool liquid poured over his eyes and in a few moments, his vision was returning.
"We Al Bhed wear goggles for a reason, ya know."
He instantly recognized the bubbly little voice as Rikku's. "Where's Gatta?"
"With dad in the office. I was sent to get you. We don't know what happened...probably a collapse..."
"Missiles aren't the same thing as collapses, last time I checked."
"Missile?!" she said, handing him a pair of goggles.
Although his vision was still a little blurry, he quickly put the goggles over his eyes. The goggles seemed to clear his vision even more and he noticed tinting used to keep the sun out as well. It was then that he got a good look at her. He could scarcely recognize her with the goggles and dust mask, which she was offering another one just like it to him as he studied her. She had he blond hair up in a pinned tail, as she always did. This lead him to wonder what it looked like down, but then, she started to tilt her head, wondering why he wasn't taking the mask. He finally took it and placed it over his nose and mouth.
"It won't keep the smell out, but it'll help with the dust," she said, still tilting her head toward him. "But, what's this of a missile?"
"An airship fired a missile at the tower. I saw it happen. Didn't Gatta tell you?"
She shook her head. "When the big shock happened, he was thrown and got a crap load of sand down his throat. He couldn't talk and barely breathe. Dad had to act fast."
"Well...that's what happened, and then the top of that tower just fell..."
"I gathered that much."
He stuck his tongue out and phhbted through the mask, only littering his own lips with the spittle. He gahed and slipped a hand under the mask to wipe his mouth, listening to her muffled laughs as he did so.
Finally he walked to the end of the crate, or so he assumed and tried to open it.
She laughed a few more times and pressed a button on one of the crate's inner sides. The end of the crate opened right in front of him. He looked back to her, shook his head, and then leapt out into the fog, leaving her wailing about waiting up for her.
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Gatta sat there, literally filling the bucket with a sand littered water/bile mixture, not liking the scratchy granules as they slowly made their way up. After what seemed like forever, he could swallow the water with ease, and his voice had returned, albeit raspy.
"Where's Weston?"
Cid hmmed. "Sent Rikku out to find him, and find out what happened to that tower...that's five months work down the damned drain. It -better- be a collapse."
"Sorry to," Gatta managed before a cough, "be the bearer of bad news, but it was a missile...from an airship."
"A missile?! Who the hell's stupid enough to attack -us-?!"
Gatta shrugged but had an idea who the culprit was.
"I gotta get out there."
"Yeah, and I want to find Weston."
"Well, get off your ass and let's go. Here's a pair of goggles and a mask."
Gatta shot up, took the items, put them on, and followed Cid outside and into the fog.
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Ughol hmmed, wondering why the streets were so dead in Luca. They had made their way without much sound. They had left the Chocobos a few hundred yards back, walking the rest of the way. The soldiers were all expecting a large group of fortified troops they could ambush in close-quarters battle, thus negating the enemy's rifles. But, while they walked along, sheaths in hand to reduce noise, they felt awkward at the eerie silence that had befallen this once great and boisterous town.
Ughol stopped, causing the rest to stop as he tried to hear any signs of life. He figured that Luca never slept, unless the occupation had crushed the town's economy, which he didn't really think on too long. He slowly moved ahead until he saw a single guard post, with two guards. The men had rifles, but their backs were to the large mass of Crusader shoulders. The entire body stopped, as if one and crouched slightly, silently readying their swords. Ughol pointed to two men to his left and then to the guards. The men nodded and slinked toward the guards, swords ready to kill.
It was when one of the slinking Crusader's back erupted, releasing a slew of bone and blood, sending the men back a few feet that Ughol began to worry. When the other man dropped with a hole in his back, Ughol began to panic. It was only when the bullets started to whiz by his head that he started doing something about it.
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"Sir! The group has been spotted and fired upon. Decoy worked, as you planned, sir."
"Good. Now, I'd like you to annihilate them. Teach those damn Crusaders that Luca is Nyka's for now own."
"It's a large force, about four hundred."
"I know that. I was the one who spotted their damned Chocobos from the tower observation point."
"Right, sir."
"Their damned fools, trying to siege us. With those numbers they couldn't make it far. Real stealthy about it too."
"Sir, it's a good thing we foiled their plot. They'll pay dearly."
"Yes, and make sure you leave enough for Yuna to get word."
"Yes, sir."
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Ughol screamed at the top of his lungs, trying to get some order in the quickly scattering troops. Some ran down the opposite street, others ducked into buildings, only to fall dead, their last sight a raging group of white robed men with rifles. Shots were blazing from everywhere. Entire buildings were illuminated from inside by the muzzle flashes. Volley after volley tore into the group of clumped soldiers.
With a grunt Ughol stormed a nearby inn and immediately dug his sword into flesh. He grabbed the dropped rifle and looked at it, not knowing how to use the machina. Instead, he threw it into a charging Yevonite while another fired from across the inn's lobby. Ughol dodged the fire and ducked behind a couch, while the angered solider fired into it, the sturdy wood furniture keeping the behemoth safe. When Ughol heard the soldier's grunt upon having to reload, he sprang up, and despite his size, had relieved the man of a hand in a matter of seconds. He left the soldier screaming and gripping the bloody and tattered remnants of his wrist.
Ughol cleared the office and then the desk area before making his way up to the rooms. The inn only had one floor, so not much to clear, thankfully. He didn't particularly know as to why he was doing this, but something was driving him and Ughol wasn't a man to deny his instincts. At the top of the stairs, Ughol plunged his broadsword into a soldier's stomach and twisted while pulling upwards, leaving the soldier to fall down the stairs, his open gut spilling out its contents on the way. Ughol's blade then slashed across the throat of another soldier in the hallway, the man's guttural scream and subsequent gargling causing Ughol to dip into a room, slashing a sitting soldier across the face and then stabbing through the man's chest as he hit the floor.
Ughol left the room, hopped over the still convulsing soldier, and then slammed into another dispatching two more Yevonites. He left that room and ran into another, killing one man and slicing into another's temple. Ughol left the room not knowing if the head-wound was fatal or not, and not caring to go back to check, he jumped into the second to last room in the inn. It was empty and he jumped out and into the last room, just to see a Yevonite standing there, obviously ready to fire. As the man fired, Ughol dropped to the floor and side-tossed his sword into the man's knee. The sword glanced off but cut enough into the soldier's knee to drop him. However, the soldier then fired directly at Ughol while on the ground. Ughol growled as he felt the bullet sink deep into his thick calf muscle. He tried to stand but failed, the pain in his leg too strong even for him to ignore. The bullet was large and hefty, and was hot as fire. Grunting, the two men crawled towards each other, the soldier now sans-rifle.
The soldier managed to get his medium-sized hands around Ughol's thick neck, but was too weak to choke such a large man. Ughol grunted and gripped at the sides of the soldier's head, trying to squeeze the man into submission.
With a grunt and an exhaled breath, Ughol continued to squeeze, knowing the soldier had to give somehow, but the smaller man kept squeezing Ughol's neck, trying to cut off the larger man's air supply.
Obviously tired of the squeezing, the Yevonite tilted his head, but soon learned that to be his final mistake, for under the weight of Ughol's squeezing, his head kept turning, and his top two vertebrae dislodged from the spinal column and the brainstem, instantly killing him. Ughol saw the soldier's eyes quickly blink into lifelessness and he sighed heavily, throwing the smaller man's body off of his own. With a wince he leveled up to his knees and crawled to a nearby window, looking out of it. He could see the little courtyard where his 'formidable force' now lay, broken, most of them lying in pools of their own blood upon the stonework streets. Some men were screaming in pain and others were on their knees, hands in the air, some of them were sobbing while others were trying to keep their dignity.
Ughol closed his eyes, releasing a few tears of pain, but not the pain in his leg, but the pain of failure. The reason he had charged ahead like this was selfish. He wanted to be like Gatta, but now he had affirmed that he didn't have the same skills Gatta did. And this realization only made his tears flow even faster. He had failed his fellow men, had failed Gatta, and worst of all, had failed Yuna and all that supported the Crusaders. He had dealt the cause a heavy blow in his blunder, and he personally couldn't imagine having to face up to it.
He smiled when he heard the rushed footsteps. That smile got even wider as the door he had left ajar in the jamb burst open. He laughed as he heard multiple guns cock and didn't even feel the bullets tear through his chest, breaking ribs and severing the spongy flesh of his lungs. He tried to laugh again, but the blood flowing up and into his mouth prevented that, and bubbled out, flowing down his massive jaw. The he looked down at the exit wounds in his chest and counted five holes. He smirked, thinking of hole-filled cheese.
He leaned forward onto the window seal and looked out, mentally apologizing to the dead soldiers below. A shot rang out and Ughol was dead before the remnants of his forehead slammed into the glass, a single tear rolling down his cheek.
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Weston walked along the sandy ground, not able to seem much through the fog until he came right up on it. He was constantly dodging torn pieces of metal or humans. The more he saw, the more angered he became. Rikku had opted not to continue once she found a friend's lifeless corpse. Weston still moved forward, determined to find out whatever he could. The air smelled foul, a mixture of melting plastic, hot metal, and burnt flesh and hair. It was no telling how many had been on and in the top of that tower.
Finally, he came upon what he knew was the part of the tower that had fell. It was a major obstacle in his path, but he'd have to get around it to make it to the tower, to hopefully find survivors.
The tower came into view and Weston sprinted towards it, jumping what he had to, dodging what he could. As far as he could tell, only the part where the tower had been severed was ablaze, and the tower was so thick and tall, that blaze wasn't very big in comparison.
When he finally made it to the foot of the tower, what he saw wasn't comforting. Aimed directly at him was an entire company of Nyka's army, waiting for the dust to clear. The airship that had fired the missile was behind them and troops were still filing out, some with large crates. What they needed with them was beyond Weston, but he didn't have time to find out. He bolted back from where he came, praying that he didn't get lost due to the dust in the air.
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Gatta yelled for Cid but couldn't see nor hear much for the fog. And if any reply came, it'd be muffled due to the masks. He sighed and stopped, looking around in all directions. Then, he heard a yell and ran in its direction, yelling back as loud as he could.
Rikku came into view and yelled, "Where's my father?"
"I lost him!"
"You...ergh!"
Gatta rolled his eyes and pointed for her to follow him. She shook her head and motioned for him to follow her instead. "You're the one losing people, Gatta."
Gatta groaned and nodded, following her as she ran in the same direction he had planned to go. She was fast, but he was able to keep up, surprisingly. The bodies littering the ground weren't helping her pace either, but Gatta immediately told himself that was the worst reason to be thankful he'd ever cooked up. Suddenly, she stopped, and when he came up beside her, he saw why. In front of them was the meat of the piece of tower that had been severed. And standing a few feet away was Cid, shocked at the sight in front of him.
Gatta walked up to a side of the large and twisted hunk of metal. It was a story and a half high and very wide. It'd take awhile for them to go around it.
Slowly, Rikku began walking along the debris' left side. Gatta saw something rounding the corner and told Rikku to watch out, but to no avail. The two collided and Gatta ran forward, seeing that the figure was Weston.
Weston got up, helped Rikku up and then yelled breathlessly, "Yevonites at the base of the tower. Lots of them."
Rikku looked to Cid and he nodded, and she ran off quickly in a direction. Cid looked to the two bewildered men and said, "She's going for a mech. Meanwhile, you can come with me to rally some troops. No Yevon bastards are going to invade -my- Home and live to tell the tale!"
Gatta and Weston nodded and followed the older man in a foggy and unknown direction.
--------------------
A lone private wept, his knees against the stone floor of the bloodstained courtyard. A line of Yevonite soldiers was approaching him while others were silencing the screaming wounded that littered the ground nearby. The private could smell his own urine mixed in with the blood that seeped into the cloth of his trousers. His sword lay at his side, unusable at this, he proposed, the final moment.
At last the screams had stopped and the private closed his eyes, releasing a wave of tears down his cheeks, the droplets hitting his thighs. When he opened them again, a rifle barrel was in his face, which made him shake madly. He closed his eyes tight and winced, waiting for the bullet to tear through his brain. The rifle clicked and the soldier felt his bowels release, soiling his already stained trousers. He opened his eyes and saw the men leaving, their backs to him.
Distraught, the private got up and ran at full speed, stepping over and on bodies, towards the way the group had come, towards the outskirts of Luca. His mission had gone from save Luca to save himself.
--------------------
Cid, Weston, and Gatta, and the three hundred or so men behind them ran in full speed toward the tower's base, still with no word from Rikku. Cid's communication device was laden with static, due to the heavy dust in the air. But, he knew that the air thinned out near the tower itself and hoped he could contact her there. Then again, he'd probably be too busy firing his rifle to pay attention to the small device. Gatta had the same type of rifle, one of the newer Al Bhed quick-shot accelerators. Weston had opted for the quick-shot sidearms, mainly for gusto, thought Cid. But Weston had told him he was better with weapons that required one hand to operate, and personally, Cid didn't care if the kid wanted to commit suicide or not.
The men they had gathered were just as bewildered as Cid knew the rest of the colony was. But this wasn't the time to sit and scratch heads. This was a time for action, and even his shaken soldiers knew that. They had grabbed their rifles, masks, and goggles enthusiastically, ready to protect their Home. It made Cid proud to have such loyal people under his leadership.
Weston halted, and Cid called out the order over the communicator, causing the lines of men to stop. Ahead, the dust was clearing, and they could all clearly see the Yevonites coming from inside the tower, crates full of supplies and materials. A couple of the transport hovercrafts were beside the airship, ready to be loaded.
Cid growled and yelled into the communicator loud enough for anyone in earshot to hear, "Those bastards are stealing from us. Let's get em!"
And with that, the men roared, causing Weston and Gatta to instinctively start running, as to not get trampled.
Weston saw a Yevonite close by and raised a gun. "Time to test these things," he said and pulled the trigger.
The impact of the hypersonic bullet was what really grabbed Weston. It wasn't the sound the gun made, one reminiscent to a high-powered nail gun, or the kick back, which wasn't that much, but the impact. The unfortunate Yevonite soldier that had been him his sights flew back quite a ways, dropping the crate in his hand. Weston could still see a line in the sand left by the wind of the bullet. He had not seen what the bullet had done to the man, but only knew by the rag doll fall that he'd hit the soldier in the chest.
Weston fired again, and again, knocking more Yevonites off of their feet and into whatever they impacted with, be it ground, wall, or vehicle. One of the soldiers he had hit was a headshot, and for due reason, Weston didn't remember that sight too long. All he knew was that the bullet caused one hell of a mess, for he could see blood splatter fifty feet away from where he'd shot the soldier.
He wasn't holding the trigger either. He was afraid that a burst would utterly tear a man into different directions. Slowly, though, as the hornet's nest of Yevonites became aware of the onslaught, he knew he'd have to use both weapons. He saw Gatta squeeze off a round and another Yevonite went flying, and it was then he realized a large body of men with these rifles was behind him.
With a grunt he pulled Gatta to the side and yelled into his ear, "Time to flank!" and pointed to the Al Bhed soldiers in emphasis. Gatta nodded and ran off to the left, while Weston ran towards the right, leaving Cid to fall back into his company and shout commands. The volley of hypersonic shots that came next shook the dust from the air, creating bullet trails in the shallow, yellow fog.
Weston turned and fired a burst off into a growing mass of Yevonite men. Why they massed together so much, he'd never know, but he knew that it was to their advantage, and, the hypersonic weaponry didn't hurt either. But he could still see the Yevonites firing volley after volley, causing a large number of the Al Bhed to fall. Weston fired into the group again, and then turned towards the airship. It was then that he noticed a driver in the cockpit. Accompanying that scene was the clicking and whirring of missiles being armed.
Desperately, he fired into the cockpit, but his shots sunk into metal, for in desperation, his aim had faltered. In horror, he watched as a missile dove into the group of Al Bheds.
He fired continuously until his handguns clicked. He rolled and loaded to more magazines, clicking the slides into place. The sidearms whirred and he began firing once more, trying to hit the glass of the cockpit. He growled as his weapons clicked once more and started running for the airship's open bay doors as he was reloading.
In a bright flash, Weston saw a thick light beam collide with his destination, and in a moment, the airship was gone, and Weston was flying, back first, in the opposite direction. He slid a few yards before stopping and getting up, only to turn to see a large cannon looking mechanism fire another one of the streams of light straight into the waning group of Yevonites. In a flash, the men disintegrated. Weston slowly walked forward as he no longer heard any opposing rifle shots. In the middle of the remaining Al Bhed soldiers, the "tank's" hatch opened, and out popped Rikku, breathing heavily.
Weston could see Gatta heading towards the tank and he did so as well, seeing Cid squatting next to a wounded soldier on the way.
Rikku wasn't smiling, but Weston knew the girl had adrenaline flowing through her veins. Weston looked up to her and she looked down to him, tilting her head.
Meekly, Weston said, "How much for one of these?"
"Free of charge."
Weston blinked, looking up to Rikku. She grinned almost devilishly.
"You can have anything you want,' she said firmly, and then added, "as long as I get to come along with some men to personally rip that bastard Nyka a new one."
Weston looked to Gatta, who shrugged, and then noticed Cid walking up, wiping his hands on the sides of his trousers. Cid nodded and Weston turned back to Rikku.
"You've got a deal," Weston replied with a grin.
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postA/N: Thanks to the following bands for providing loverly music that fits perfectly with certain parts of this chapter (and most of these guys are underground or unsigned, you'll find their stuff on MP3.com, if you're interested): Point of Recognition (now known as Count the Cost after a reformation), Burnt by the Sun, Carnal Forge, Nevermore, Haste (a fellow band from my state ^^), Overcome, Demon Hunter, Arch Enemy, Hyde, Reflux, It Dies Today, and Extol. This music keeps my energy up and eyes opened, because it's loud, fast, and heavy. Check 'em out if you like Death/Speed/Thrash Metal or Hardcore.
If you're curious as to the "Gil" I refer to in this chapter (and will be referring to the rest of the story), it's not really based on the Gil in the FF series. Why? Well, I guess I wanted to be creative. Global Info-Link dollars (http://www.gil.com.au/member-services/gil-dollars/index.shtml) are dollars you earn by renewing your subscription to GIL. It's a "loyalty program" used to keep subscribers to Global Info-links happy and ready to renew. For every 10 dollars (US) spent, you get 1 GIL dollar. So, two hundred thousand Gil would be 2 million dollars (US). Yeah, fuss and complain if ya need to, but I wanted to have some real-world connection to the currency used in this story. It's not very tried and true to the FF series, but this makes it a whole heck of a lot easier to convert between your monetary values. Like I said, I'm lazy :P
Oh and if you couldn't guess, this little chapter took longer. Why? Well, besides the Anime and gaming kick from Christmas (I received Neon Genesis Evangelion Perfect Collection, 12 hours, Escaflowne movie AND series boxed set, probably about 16 hours, and the Armitage III boxed set at 4 hours {I have both Armitage movies, but nothing compares to the series!}, and then, the following games have been sucking my attention away: Mortal Kombat Deadly Alliance, Ratchet and Clank, The Thing, Suikoden III, Medal of Honor: Spearhead, Freekstyle, Guilty Gear X, and my Neo-Geo emu and roms *innocent look*...) and the fact that so many web-comics are having such interesting story arcs. I'd like to call myself an online-comic aficionado because I follow so many...well, so many of the popular ones, that is. But two main ones have been grabbing me lately: First and always first, MegaTokyo. I've been following this fic since its inception and Piro's never failed to steal my attention away from whatever I need to be doing at the time. There's so much angst! And all those awkward moments. Makes you just wanna grab the monitor! Haha, and Largo's romps in the city...classic stuff. Second of all, Gene Catlow's first major story arc is about to come to an end, and what an arc it is. Blah, now I'm just rambling. New paragraph.
As you can tell, I follow online comics like a rabid lunatic. Every morning, before classes or before breakfast on weekends, I check every comic on its respective day. I have roughly 40 to check every two days, a few (like Demonology 101) every other week. So, blame them if I get lax. But, hey, I'm just boring ya with this page long A/N. Happy New Year, peeps. I'm gone to go check the midnight updates of a few comics. Just hope we don't get a Dead Piro Day... -.-
PreA/N: Get those translators ready! I used the English-Al Bhed translator with phonetics(http://www.pixelscapes.com/twoflower/albhed.html) to write my Al Bhed language. I'm lazy and dun wanna learn it by heart. I'm not -that- hardcore :P ^^;;; Oh, and watch out for some heavy violence in this chapter (talking to you, Shad ^.~) ~ No One
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"They never fail who die in a great cause." - Lord Byron
"Ultimately, we're all dead men. Sadly we cannot chose how. But, we can decide how we meet that end in order that we are remembered as men." - Unknown.
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"Fru kuac drana?"
Weston blinked at the blond haired man, not understanding a word the young man had said. But, the five-foot six or so tall man had a gun; thus, one would normally want to know what he was saying.
Weston turned to Gatta, raising a brow.
"That's Al-Bhed language. Most of them don't speak Spiran."
"You mean English."
Gatta's brow rose and Weston left it at that. Gatta then turned to the young man and said slowly, as if he was calculating every word as he spoke, "Fa yna vneahtc uv Myto Rikku."
The armed man didn't seem to buy it at first, but then shrugged his shoulders. "Cra'c eh dra drent dufan, fedr Cid."
Gatta nodded and turned to Weston. "See that tower, over there?"
"Oh, the big one with all the sparks flying from it. Yeah, it's kinda hard to miss."
"Lead the way, asshole."
The two men laughed and headed in the tower's direction, leaving the young man to wonder what the joke was.
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"Ynah'd druca vneahtc uv ouinc, tyikrdan?"
"Oac, pid fro drao yna rana, E tu hud ghuf."
"Drao yna rana vun cibbund yht E ghuf ed."
"E tuh'd ihtancdyht fro fa lyh'd ramb dras...E sayh, fa tu ceta fedr Yuna tuh'd fa?"
"Dryd ec hud dra buehd. Dra buehd rana ec uin baubma'c cyvado. E sicd ahcina dra cyvado uv uin baubma vencd. E lyh'd zicd ku vekrd cusa fyn. Ed'c ran bnupmas vun huf. Drana'c hu naycuh vun uin baubma du kad ehjumjat."
"Pid vydran..."
"Excuse us..." Gatta said as he stepped into a large metallic room. His voice echoed off of the steel walls.
Weston stepped in after him and the door slid closed. He smirked and remarked to no one in particular, "It's like Star-Trek."
He noticed Rikku and the older man stare at him with wondering eyes. In return he grinned and shrugged. Gatta shot him a glance and Weston understood the meaning; "Shut it."
The older, bald man stood from his crouched position. His face was stern and one could tell he had not aged easily. His brow furrowed and he crossed his arms. "I'm sorry, but we can't help ya."
"Even after all that Yuna did for your people, Cid?"
"If I got into this with Yuna, my people would be hurt. I can't let that happen."
"We're only asking for supplies. My men have swords, Nyka's army has machina."
"I can't help ya, Gatta."
Rikku groaned and the four stood in silence in the small office room at the base of the tower. A few minutes into the awkward silence, Weston groaned and pushed himself past Gatta. He reached into his fatigues' hip pockets and pulled the two Al Bhed sidearms out, laying them on the metal desk in front of Cid and Rikku with an audible clunk.
"I need ammo for these."
Cid leaned forward. "I'm not going to just -give- you anything."
"Then I'll pay for it."
Gatta stepped up. "No, Weston. Don't pay them. It wouldn't be-"
"I'll do whatever I goddamned want with my money."
"How much do ya have?" asked Cid.
"I have about sixty in my pocket now."
"That'll get ya thirty clips of ten."
"So two Gil a clip?"
"Yup."
"How much for, say, another sidearm?"
"Thirty Gil, unless you want the quick-fire model. That's fifty Gil."
Weston hmmed, then pointed to the weapons lying on the table. "What are these?"
"Quick-firing models. Just pull the trigger and boom, whole lotta lead heading wherever you aim it. But, it does have a bit of a kick if ya just hold the damn trigger."
"Yeah. Burst fire would be more appropriate for an automatic."
"So, ya buying the ammo?"
"Yeah," and with that, Weston set a jingling pouch from his pocket onto the table. Cid nodded and bent down, opening a small rectangular box. From it he pulled a large handful of "clips" and set them onto the table for counting. The "clips" were really just a strip of metal with a notch to hold the bullets in. The bullets, to Weston, looked much like the full- metal jacket shells he used with his SOCOM. The primer was triangular, however, and he noticed after picking a clip up that the bullets were remarkably lighter.
Cid seemed to notice Weston studying the bullets. "Something wrong?"
"These bullets are a lot lighter that what I'm used to. Certainly lighter than the hulky ones used by the Yevonites."
"Ah, that's 'cause we use no powder with these guns!"
"And how do you accomplish that?"
"It's complicated, really."
"I've got time."
Gatta rolled his eyes and looked to Rikku, who was obviously bored.
Cid grinned and said smugly, as if proud of the achievement, "This is our most recent development. The primer is a metal alloy that's super- conductive. When our weapon's charged hammer hits it, it creates an electromagnetic pulse, or "shock." That shock in turn creates a temporary magnetic field between the sides of the barrel's conductive housing, ya know, the piece of metal on the front that don't move. The bullet itself is then pulled from the casin and travels along the concentrated field gaining acceleration all the while. It hits the air goin' real fast. It's not an instant hit, but damn if it ain't one that hits in the blink of an eye.
"The bullet is notched, and fans out after it makes contact with flesh or whatever you're aiming at, cept paper. That way, the bullet doesn't keep going, but damn, whatever you hit goes flying if it aint screwed to something. Leaves a big hole, too. The spent case is ejected when the electromagnetic field reverses and then disappears, making the slide move, ejecting the bullet. This also pulls the clip down, givin' ya another bullet ready to fire."
Weston blinked, looking for the notches in the bullet's lead. "So...it's a rail gun?"
"Electro-magnetic projectile accelerator."
"But doesn't that need some sort of power supply?"
"You noticed, I hope, that the guns were warm when ya pulled them from your pockets."
"They'd been in there awhile."
"Well, we've been yakking for a while, pick one up."
Weston did so and noticed that the gun had not lost its warmth against the cold table.
Cid laughed.
Weston smirked. "It's battery operated."
"Sorta. The source is a stone just below the hammer. It's really tiny. The stone has some sort of power in it that keeps the gun running. I've had mine for months and it hasn't stopped workin' yet."
"So no clue as to how the stone keeps all of its power?"
"Not a clue. But, hey, it works, right?"
"I'll find that out for myself soon. Any sort of muzzle flash?"
"Unfortunately, yeah. It's just from the pulse creating the magnetic field, not the firing of the bullet itself. But everything happens so fast, it seems like one action."
"Well, now they'll know where I am."
"Not if they're dead first!" shouted Rikku, catching Weston off guard.
They all laughed and Cid finished counting out the clips. He bent down and got a small satchel, placing the clips into it. He handed it to Weston, smiled, and said, "Pleasure doing business with ya."
Weston turned back to Gatta, holding the satchel up. "See? Money talks. How much do the Crusaders have to play with?"
"Weston, I don't think so. That money is for the soldiers' salaries."
"It's called 'budgeting'. It's a fairly chic` concept. You take a certain amount and set it aside for uniforms, or rations, or salaries. You take another set amount and use it for weaponry. You spread the money out instead of having some big stockpile and, therefore, you use it more wisely. And if we can buy ourselves a weapon contract with the Al Bhed, why refuse to give your men adequate protection?"
Gatta thought this over a minute, not wanting to go along with it. It was absurd. "Contracting" an entire race for weapon production. But, if it could be done, it'd give them a fighting chance against the Yevonites, who easily outnumbered and outgunned the Crusader forces.
Gatta looked to Cid, who also seemed to be in an inner-conflict. Rikku watched her father anxiously, desperately wanting to help Yuna out in any form possible. Finally Cid said, "It can be done, but I'll need adequate payment. I've got a Home to rebuild and a people to protect. You won't be getting our best stuff. These sidearms are the line. Nothing better. No regular or quick-shot rifles, no explosives, and no mechanoids."
Weston's eyes widened. "Mechs?"
Rikku smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I pilot them sometimes."
Weston blinked. "Combat mechs?"
Rikku laughed. "What else?"
Cid cleared his throat. "Only sidearms."
Gatta sighed. "So, how much are we looking at?"
Cid hmmed, pressing a finger to his chin a moment. "That depends."
Weston nodded. "How much for ten thousand pisto- 'sidearms' and ten clips per weapon?"
Cid thought a moment, doing the math. After a moment, he said lowly. "That'd run ya about two hundred thousand Gil."
Gatta blinked. "Two...two...two hundred thousand Gil?! That's a million potions and then some."
Cid's brow furrowed. "The materials, ammo, and labor are included. Not to mention, you'll be taking weaponry from my own military. And, if I were to charge you full price, it'd be half a million Gil and more. Five hundred and twenty thousand, to be correct."
Gatta growled and looked to Weston. "That's only fifty or so thousand short of emptying the Crusaders' entire reserve."
Weston grinned. "Siphon out the remaining fifty."
Gatta's face turned rather red. "Weston, do you know how hard it is to order around a soldier who cannot bring bread to his table?"
"This is war, Gatta, not peace time. The soldier doesn't have time to go home to his table. He lives off of what the military provides him, and I'm not referring to money."
"This isn't your precious US Army, Weston. Goodness knows if we had the resources you claim your military has, we'd storm Bevelle right now and personally drag Nyka through the streets. But this isn't a tight body of patriotic men. If you talk to half of the men in the barracks, you'll know what I mean."
Weston smirked and poked Gatta's small chest. "Gatta, why -did- the Crusaders' fall behind Yuna? Because Nyka caused their unemployment across most of Spira. You yourself know how hard it is to fit forty thousand men onto one small island. But your men complied, because they have a general dislike for that bastard in Bevelle. If -you- did your job as a leader, they'd be rolling in the rafters, ready to get revenge for the events that've passed."
"I'm not going to get my men in some homicidal rage, Weston. Ever tried to command a man whose soul agenda is to kill some guy that rubbed him the wrong way? Everything must have its reason, Weston. And to take their salaries away? What reason do we have other than putting away the swords they grew up and trained with and replacing them with some Al Bhed weapon? That's not a boost of morale."
"But it's something that has to be done, otherwise, your swordsmen are sitting ducks for Nyka's rifles. Think of the future. Think of ending this conflict rather than the personal well-being of every single man under your command. They'll do their job, as long as there's a job to do."
Gatta sighed and looked to Weston, and then to Cid. "Can I at least pay you in installments?"
"Yeah. That'd be a lot to bring in one trip, anyway."
Gatta smiled a bitter smile.
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Ughol growled as he looked to the rising moon. "If only we had known sooner..."
"Something wrong, sir," one of the men closest to him asked.
"We'll be there by early morning light. I wanted to make a night attack."
"Well, sir, maybe it's better we attack at dawn anyway. They'll just be waking up and not fully capable of a counter move."
"True...but under darkness we'd have even more of an advantage."
"Yeah..."
Ughol turned from the soldier and looked through his pair of binoculars. Land was in sight, but it wasn't too close by. The waiting process had only begun.
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Fagan turned over in the bed, the covers sliding off of him as Elaine did the same. This was the coldest she had ever been to him and it was starting to fill his mind with worry. He sighed and turned again, brushing her back with the back of his hand. She seemed to shudder and, at least it seemed to him, whimpered, before sliding forward, away from his hand. He sighed sadly and got out of bed, obviously not prepared to sleep in such a cold situation.
He walked along the far wall, tracing his fingers along the odd shaped staff that he carried to the temple everyday. Nyka had given it to him as a gift for becoming a council member at such a young age. He gripped it and stared into the blue crystal in the center. The crystal always had this warmth and glow to it that Fagan had never seemed to be able to explain. Nyka had said it was some holy relic, but that was probably just the old man's propaganda.
Fagan huffed, letting his breath hit the table's surface as he sat down. He had to admit that his faith was wavering, despite dreading the realization of it. And to be a New Yevon councilman with faltering faith was not a healthy position to be in, especially during any sort of conflict.
With a growl he stood up and looked to his hanging coat. He grabbed it and wrapped it around his robed body. Quietly, he stepped out into the night air, clutching the coat tight around him. He silently shut the door behind him and began his walk along the sidewalk.
The time was only a little after midnight and Fagan could tell it without even looking at a clock. The ruffians were out in full swing. Mostly comprised Yevonite fundamentalist young men and women from the Youth Alliance, Bevelle's night crowd was a tad rowdy. But Fagan could tell he was safe, for though he felt eyes on him, his prestige as a councilman would deter any confrontation. He continued his walk and turned onto an opposite street, walking along one of the many market streets that littered Bevelle's neighborhoods. It was closed, of course, save a couple of item shops, but even at night, the structure that housed the stores and lots was impressive. It was stone with sweeping arches and steeples, reminding Fagan of the temple. As a matter of fact, most or all of Bevelle's architecture was based off of the temple. He could only imagine what the city looked like from the air.
He rounded another street and passed a couple of the Youth Alliance miscreants. What Fagan had never understood was why Nyka had never done anything about Bevelle's night life. He thought it had to do with the unbreakable loyalty the young men and women of the group showed to Nyka. "Or," Fagan remarked to himself, "it could be their impressionable nature..."
"You say something?" A young boy of about fifteen looked at Fagan. The boy was taller than Fagan, but had the same lanky quality that Fagan hated most about himself.
"No," said Fagan timidly. The young boy shrugged and walked on, while Fagan hunched his shoulders forward. The chill that was running up his back wasn't from the wind, but from awaited him at home. He rounded another corner and could see his building in the distance, making another chill run through him. The building's medieval architecture didn't help reassure him either. The cold aura the building gave off was like that of the aura surrounding his wife. She was cold and kept her back to him, no matter how hard he pressed her. He couldn't quite figure out what he had particularly done, save tell her of his worry over Nyka's "Crusade." Of course, she was a die-hard Yevonite, always making up some excuse to dismiss the events of two years passed. She claimed Yuna to be a storyteller. But, as Fagan had pointed out, the proof enough was that Yuna defeated Sin and lived. Yunalesca was gone as well, offering further proof that, indeed, Yevon was gone.
He growled, knowing that all his education was for naught, for he was worshiping a 'god' that had truly disappeared. But, his faith was also concreted because, in fact, Yevon -was- real. But what Yevon really was, be it man or beast, he didn't know. And would never know, in fact. He hated his questioning nature, especially now, when New Yevon needed him to be strong. But it's hard to go along with something that feels so inhumane. The 'event' in Kilika had disgusted Fagan to no end, but not because of the methods the Crusaders used to defeat Nyka's soldiers, but because of all the loss of innocent life.
With a sigh, he finally stopped in front of his building, not wanting to open the door. Finally, after some indecision, he entered and headed up the stairs. He slowly made it to his dwelling and quietly opened the door.
Not surprisingly, his wife was fast asleep, either oblivious to his night walk or she didn't much care. Either way, he still wasn't going to enter that cold bed. After fixing himself a cup of tea, he fell heavily into the cushiony chair in the den/study and didn't even drink from the cup. Instead, he laid it upon the stand next to the chair and quickly fell asleep.
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"Think Yuna'll go for this?"
Gatta shrugged and stopped, pulling Weston to the side. "I don't know. I hope not."
"And why's that? So your men can get slaughtered?"
"No, so we don't have to include the Al Bhed in this. It's not their fight."
"Last time I took count, Cid hated Yevon and isn't that reason enough to join in the fight?"
"This isn't some childish brawl, it's a war, Weston. A war where millions of people's lives are at stake. To include even more in that count would be ridiculous. I just fear that this little "deal" is going to get them involved somehow."
Weston sighed. "It's just an arms deal. Nothing big."
"Maybe not where you come from, but I know in Nyka's mind it's 'blasphemy'."
Gatta sighed and leaned against a large metal crate.
Weston stood before him, tilting his head. "So, now that's over, we can go back, right?"
"I suppose. But we still have to think of the consequences and a way to break the news to Yuna...
"Uh, Gatta..."
"And then we'll have to get transport material for the Gil..."
"Gatta."
"And after that-"
"Gatta!"
"What!?"
"That's not our airship, is it?"
Gatta looked up and in the direction Weston's fingertip. "Probably one of the Al Bhed's supply vehicles."
"Then why is it getting ready to fire its missiles?"
Gatta squinted in time to see a burst of fire from one of the sides of the airship.
--------------------
"We're getting there a little early, sir."
Ughol laughed, bobbing up and down on the back of his Chocobo. His broadsword was clanging against his back, where it was loosely strapped. "Looks that way don't it?"
A sergeant nodded and dropped off pace a bit as the lunar-lighted Blitzball sphere came into view.
Ughol grinned, pleased with himself. He had made it to Luca in record time, and to exploit his good fortune, he'd siege it just as quickly. He'd show the Yevonites little mercy, for they hadn't shown much themselves.
He quickly surmised the "plan" he had formulated on the boat ride. The soldiers would attack in one large volley, for Ughol expected the 'idiot' Yevonites to bunch up in one particular area.
He grinned once more, gaining even more confidence. He yelled to his riding men, "When we take Luca back, free drinks for you all!"
The men cheered and rode even harder.
--------------------
It wasn't the explosion that made Weston jump, but the creaking sound of metal that he had heard years ago in a September Eleventh documentary; that same sound that could be taken for someone taking a nail to a chalkboard, but magnified millions of decibels. Had his chest not already been pressed into the sandy ground, he would've it so after the horrendous sound that the top of one of the complete towers made as it hit the ground. The shockwave that traveled the earth also jarred his nerves. A cloud of dust and small metal debris funneled outwards from the impact zone and covered the entire structure, which was some feat, seeing as the structure was the size of a metropolis.
Furiously wiping at his eyes and trying to snort out the granules of sand sticking to his nose hairs, he stood. He opened his tearing eyes but only saw in a fuzzy 'v' shape due to the sand still stuck to his eye. And, since the air was thick with a yellowish fog, seeing wasn't going to do him much good anyway.
"Gatta!" he called, coughing afterwards. No answer came. He called twice more, and then began to walk forward. With a dense thud, his booted feet hit something thick and he almost tripped. Luckily he found his feet, but then bent down only to discover the toe of his boot stuck into the torn torso of a limbless and headless body. With a yelp he jumped backwards and turned, half-sprinting in the opposite direction. He bumped into something and fell over, trying to squint in the dust fog. All he could make out was a figure. The figure bent a bit and Weston could feel someone grabbing him by the arm. The next thing he knew, he was in a large wooden crate, where the fog had not penetrated.
"Hold your eyes open!" he heard a female voice yell at him. He didn't think to question the command and did so. A moment later, a cool liquid poured over his eyes and in a few moments, his vision was returning.
"We Al Bhed wear goggles for a reason, ya know."
He instantly recognized the bubbly little voice as Rikku's. "Where's Gatta?"
"With dad in the office. I was sent to get you. We don't know what happened...probably a collapse..."
"Missiles aren't the same thing as collapses, last time I checked."
"Missile?!" she said, handing him a pair of goggles.
Although his vision was still a little blurry, he quickly put the goggles over his eyes. The goggles seemed to clear his vision even more and he noticed tinting used to keep the sun out as well. It was then that he got a good look at her. He could scarcely recognize her with the goggles and dust mask, which she was offering another one just like it to him as he studied her. She had he blond hair up in a pinned tail, as she always did. This lead him to wonder what it looked like down, but then, she started to tilt her head, wondering why he wasn't taking the mask. He finally took it and placed it over his nose and mouth.
"It won't keep the smell out, but it'll help with the dust," she said, still tilting her head toward him. "But, what's this of a missile?"
"An airship fired a missile at the tower. I saw it happen. Didn't Gatta tell you?"
She shook her head. "When the big shock happened, he was thrown and got a crap load of sand down his throat. He couldn't talk and barely breathe. Dad had to act fast."
"Well...that's what happened, and then the top of that tower just fell..."
"I gathered that much."
He stuck his tongue out and phhbted through the mask, only littering his own lips with the spittle. He gahed and slipped a hand under the mask to wipe his mouth, listening to her muffled laughs as he did so.
Finally he walked to the end of the crate, or so he assumed and tried to open it.
She laughed a few more times and pressed a button on one of the crate's inner sides. The end of the crate opened right in front of him. He looked back to her, shook his head, and then leapt out into the fog, leaving her wailing about waiting up for her.
--------------------
Gatta sat there, literally filling the bucket with a sand littered water/bile mixture, not liking the scratchy granules as they slowly made their way up. After what seemed like forever, he could swallow the water with ease, and his voice had returned, albeit raspy.
"Where's Weston?"
Cid hmmed. "Sent Rikku out to find him, and find out what happened to that tower...that's five months work down the damned drain. It -better- be a collapse."
"Sorry to," Gatta managed before a cough, "be the bearer of bad news, but it was a missile...from an airship."
"A missile?! Who the hell's stupid enough to attack -us-?!"
Gatta shrugged but had an idea who the culprit was.
"I gotta get out there."
"Yeah, and I want to find Weston."
"Well, get off your ass and let's go. Here's a pair of goggles and a mask."
Gatta shot up, took the items, put them on, and followed Cid outside and into the fog.
--------------------
Ughol hmmed, wondering why the streets were so dead in Luca. They had made their way without much sound. They had left the Chocobos a few hundred yards back, walking the rest of the way. The soldiers were all expecting a large group of fortified troops they could ambush in close-quarters battle, thus negating the enemy's rifles. But, while they walked along, sheaths in hand to reduce noise, they felt awkward at the eerie silence that had befallen this once great and boisterous town.
Ughol stopped, causing the rest to stop as he tried to hear any signs of life. He figured that Luca never slept, unless the occupation had crushed the town's economy, which he didn't really think on too long. He slowly moved ahead until he saw a single guard post, with two guards. The men had rifles, but their backs were to the large mass of Crusader shoulders. The entire body stopped, as if one and crouched slightly, silently readying their swords. Ughol pointed to two men to his left and then to the guards. The men nodded and slinked toward the guards, swords ready to kill.
It was when one of the slinking Crusader's back erupted, releasing a slew of bone and blood, sending the men back a few feet that Ughol began to worry. When the other man dropped with a hole in his back, Ughol began to panic. It was only when the bullets started to whiz by his head that he started doing something about it.
--------------------
"Sir! The group has been spotted and fired upon. Decoy worked, as you planned, sir."
"Good. Now, I'd like you to annihilate them. Teach those damn Crusaders that Luca is Nyka's for now own."
"It's a large force, about four hundred."
"I know that. I was the one who spotted their damned Chocobos from the tower observation point."
"Right, sir."
"Their damned fools, trying to siege us. With those numbers they couldn't make it far. Real stealthy about it too."
"Sir, it's a good thing we foiled their plot. They'll pay dearly."
"Yes, and make sure you leave enough for Yuna to get word."
"Yes, sir."
--------------------
Ughol screamed at the top of his lungs, trying to get some order in the quickly scattering troops. Some ran down the opposite street, others ducked into buildings, only to fall dead, their last sight a raging group of white robed men with rifles. Shots were blazing from everywhere. Entire buildings were illuminated from inside by the muzzle flashes. Volley after volley tore into the group of clumped soldiers.
With a grunt Ughol stormed a nearby inn and immediately dug his sword into flesh. He grabbed the dropped rifle and looked at it, not knowing how to use the machina. Instead, he threw it into a charging Yevonite while another fired from across the inn's lobby. Ughol dodged the fire and ducked behind a couch, while the angered solider fired into it, the sturdy wood furniture keeping the behemoth safe. When Ughol heard the soldier's grunt upon having to reload, he sprang up, and despite his size, had relieved the man of a hand in a matter of seconds. He left the soldier screaming and gripping the bloody and tattered remnants of his wrist.
Ughol cleared the office and then the desk area before making his way up to the rooms. The inn only had one floor, so not much to clear, thankfully. He didn't particularly know as to why he was doing this, but something was driving him and Ughol wasn't a man to deny his instincts. At the top of the stairs, Ughol plunged his broadsword into a soldier's stomach and twisted while pulling upwards, leaving the soldier to fall down the stairs, his open gut spilling out its contents on the way. Ughol's blade then slashed across the throat of another soldier in the hallway, the man's guttural scream and subsequent gargling causing Ughol to dip into a room, slashing a sitting soldier across the face and then stabbing through the man's chest as he hit the floor.
Ughol left the room, hopped over the still convulsing soldier, and then slammed into another dispatching two more Yevonites. He left that room and ran into another, killing one man and slicing into another's temple. Ughol left the room not knowing if the head-wound was fatal or not, and not caring to go back to check, he jumped into the second to last room in the inn. It was empty and he jumped out and into the last room, just to see a Yevonite standing there, obviously ready to fire. As the man fired, Ughol dropped to the floor and side-tossed his sword into the man's knee. The sword glanced off but cut enough into the soldier's knee to drop him. However, the soldier then fired directly at Ughol while on the ground. Ughol growled as he felt the bullet sink deep into his thick calf muscle. He tried to stand but failed, the pain in his leg too strong even for him to ignore. The bullet was large and hefty, and was hot as fire. Grunting, the two men crawled towards each other, the soldier now sans-rifle.
The soldier managed to get his medium-sized hands around Ughol's thick neck, but was too weak to choke such a large man. Ughol grunted and gripped at the sides of the soldier's head, trying to squeeze the man into submission.
With a grunt and an exhaled breath, Ughol continued to squeeze, knowing the soldier had to give somehow, but the smaller man kept squeezing Ughol's neck, trying to cut off the larger man's air supply.
Obviously tired of the squeezing, the Yevonite tilted his head, but soon learned that to be his final mistake, for under the weight of Ughol's squeezing, his head kept turning, and his top two vertebrae dislodged from the spinal column and the brainstem, instantly killing him. Ughol saw the soldier's eyes quickly blink into lifelessness and he sighed heavily, throwing the smaller man's body off of his own. With a wince he leveled up to his knees and crawled to a nearby window, looking out of it. He could see the little courtyard where his 'formidable force' now lay, broken, most of them lying in pools of their own blood upon the stonework streets. Some men were screaming in pain and others were on their knees, hands in the air, some of them were sobbing while others were trying to keep their dignity.
Ughol closed his eyes, releasing a few tears of pain, but not the pain in his leg, but the pain of failure. The reason he had charged ahead like this was selfish. He wanted to be like Gatta, but now he had affirmed that he didn't have the same skills Gatta did. And this realization only made his tears flow even faster. He had failed his fellow men, had failed Gatta, and worst of all, had failed Yuna and all that supported the Crusaders. He had dealt the cause a heavy blow in his blunder, and he personally couldn't imagine having to face up to it.
He smiled when he heard the rushed footsteps. That smile got even wider as the door he had left ajar in the jamb burst open. He laughed as he heard multiple guns cock and didn't even feel the bullets tear through his chest, breaking ribs and severing the spongy flesh of his lungs. He tried to laugh again, but the blood flowing up and into his mouth prevented that, and bubbled out, flowing down his massive jaw. The he looked down at the exit wounds in his chest and counted five holes. He smirked, thinking of hole-filled cheese.
He leaned forward onto the window seal and looked out, mentally apologizing to the dead soldiers below. A shot rang out and Ughol was dead before the remnants of his forehead slammed into the glass, a single tear rolling down his cheek.
--------------------
Weston walked along the sandy ground, not able to seem much through the fog until he came right up on it. He was constantly dodging torn pieces of metal or humans. The more he saw, the more angered he became. Rikku had opted not to continue once she found a friend's lifeless corpse. Weston still moved forward, determined to find out whatever he could. The air smelled foul, a mixture of melting plastic, hot metal, and burnt flesh and hair. It was no telling how many had been on and in the top of that tower.
Finally, he came upon what he knew was the part of the tower that had fell. It was a major obstacle in his path, but he'd have to get around it to make it to the tower, to hopefully find survivors.
The tower came into view and Weston sprinted towards it, jumping what he had to, dodging what he could. As far as he could tell, only the part where the tower had been severed was ablaze, and the tower was so thick and tall, that blaze wasn't very big in comparison.
When he finally made it to the foot of the tower, what he saw wasn't comforting. Aimed directly at him was an entire company of Nyka's army, waiting for the dust to clear. The airship that had fired the missile was behind them and troops were still filing out, some with large crates. What they needed with them was beyond Weston, but he didn't have time to find out. He bolted back from where he came, praying that he didn't get lost due to the dust in the air.
--------------------
Gatta yelled for Cid but couldn't see nor hear much for the fog. And if any reply came, it'd be muffled due to the masks. He sighed and stopped, looking around in all directions. Then, he heard a yell and ran in its direction, yelling back as loud as he could.
Rikku came into view and yelled, "Where's my father?"
"I lost him!"
"You...ergh!"
Gatta rolled his eyes and pointed for her to follow him. She shook her head and motioned for him to follow her instead. "You're the one losing people, Gatta."
Gatta groaned and nodded, following her as she ran in the same direction he had planned to go. She was fast, but he was able to keep up, surprisingly. The bodies littering the ground weren't helping her pace either, but Gatta immediately told himself that was the worst reason to be thankful he'd ever cooked up. Suddenly, she stopped, and when he came up beside her, he saw why. In front of them was the meat of the piece of tower that had been severed. And standing a few feet away was Cid, shocked at the sight in front of him.
Gatta walked up to a side of the large and twisted hunk of metal. It was a story and a half high and very wide. It'd take awhile for them to go around it.
Slowly, Rikku began walking along the debris' left side. Gatta saw something rounding the corner and told Rikku to watch out, but to no avail. The two collided and Gatta ran forward, seeing that the figure was Weston.
Weston got up, helped Rikku up and then yelled breathlessly, "Yevonites at the base of the tower. Lots of them."
Rikku looked to Cid and he nodded, and she ran off quickly in a direction. Cid looked to the two bewildered men and said, "She's going for a mech. Meanwhile, you can come with me to rally some troops. No Yevon bastards are going to invade -my- Home and live to tell the tale!"
Gatta and Weston nodded and followed the older man in a foggy and unknown direction.
--------------------
A lone private wept, his knees against the stone floor of the bloodstained courtyard. A line of Yevonite soldiers was approaching him while others were silencing the screaming wounded that littered the ground nearby. The private could smell his own urine mixed in with the blood that seeped into the cloth of his trousers. His sword lay at his side, unusable at this, he proposed, the final moment.
At last the screams had stopped and the private closed his eyes, releasing a wave of tears down his cheeks, the droplets hitting his thighs. When he opened them again, a rifle barrel was in his face, which made him shake madly. He closed his eyes tight and winced, waiting for the bullet to tear through his brain. The rifle clicked and the soldier felt his bowels release, soiling his already stained trousers. He opened his eyes and saw the men leaving, their backs to him.
Distraught, the private got up and ran at full speed, stepping over and on bodies, towards the way the group had come, towards the outskirts of Luca. His mission had gone from save Luca to save himself.
--------------------
Cid, Weston, and Gatta, and the three hundred or so men behind them ran in full speed toward the tower's base, still with no word from Rikku. Cid's communication device was laden with static, due to the heavy dust in the air. But, he knew that the air thinned out near the tower itself and hoped he could contact her there. Then again, he'd probably be too busy firing his rifle to pay attention to the small device. Gatta had the same type of rifle, one of the newer Al Bhed quick-shot accelerators. Weston had opted for the quick-shot sidearms, mainly for gusto, thought Cid. But Weston had told him he was better with weapons that required one hand to operate, and personally, Cid didn't care if the kid wanted to commit suicide or not.
The men they had gathered were just as bewildered as Cid knew the rest of the colony was. But this wasn't the time to sit and scratch heads. This was a time for action, and even his shaken soldiers knew that. They had grabbed their rifles, masks, and goggles enthusiastically, ready to protect their Home. It made Cid proud to have such loyal people under his leadership.
Weston halted, and Cid called out the order over the communicator, causing the lines of men to stop. Ahead, the dust was clearing, and they could all clearly see the Yevonites coming from inside the tower, crates full of supplies and materials. A couple of the transport hovercrafts were beside the airship, ready to be loaded.
Cid growled and yelled into the communicator loud enough for anyone in earshot to hear, "Those bastards are stealing from us. Let's get em!"
And with that, the men roared, causing Weston and Gatta to instinctively start running, as to not get trampled.
Weston saw a Yevonite close by and raised a gun. "Time to test these things," he said and pulled the trigger.
The impact of the hypersonic bullet was what really grabbed Weston. It wasn't the sound the gun made, one reminiscent to a high-powered nail gun, or the kick back, which wasn't that much, but the impact. The unfortunate Yevonite soldier that had been him his sights flew back quite a ways, dropping the crate in his hand. Weston could still see a line in the sand left by the wind of the bullet. He had not seen what the bullet had done to the man, but only knew by the rag doll fall that he'd hit the soldier in the chest.
Weston fired again, and again, knocking more Yevonites off of their feet and into whatever they impacted with, be it ground, wall, or vehicle. One of the soldiers he had hit was a headshot, and for due reason, Weston didn't remember that sight too long. All he knew was that the bullet caused one hell of a mess, for he could see blood splatter fifty feet away from where he'd shot the soldier.
He wasn't holding the trigger either. He was afraid that a burst would utterly tear a man into different directions. Slowly, though, as the hornet's nest of Yevonites became aware of the onslaught, he knew he'd have to use both weapons. He saw Gatta squeeze off a round and another Yevonite went flying, and it was then he realized a large body of men with these rifles was behind him.
With a grunt he pulled Gatta to the side and yelled into his ear, "Time to flank!" and pointed to the Al Bhed soldiers in emphasis. Gatta nodded and ran off to the left, while Weston ran towards the right, leaving Cid to fall back into his company and shout commands. The volley of hypersonic shots that came next shook the dust from the air, creating bullet trails in the shallow, yellow fog.
Weston turned and fired a burst off into a growing mass of Yevonite men. Why they massed together so much, he'd never know, but he knew that it was to their advantage, and, the hypersonic weaponry didn't hurt either. But he could still see the Yevonites firing volley after volley, causing a large number of the Al Bhed to fall. Weston fired into the group again, and then turned towards the airship. It was then that he noticed a driver in the cockpit. Accompanying that scene was the clicking and whirring of missiles being armed.
Desperately, he fired into the cockpit, but his shots sunk into metal, for in desperation, his aim had faltered. In horror, he watched as a missile dove into the group of Al Bheds.
He fired continuously until his handguns clicked. He rolled and loaded to more magazines, clicking the slides into place. The sidearms whirred and he began firing once more, trying to hit the glass of the cockpit. He growled as his weapons clicked once more and started running for the airship's open bay doors as he was reloading.
In a bright flash, Weston saw a thick light beam collide with his destination, and in a moment, the airship was gone, and Weston was flying, back first, in the opposite direction. He slid a few yards before stopping and getting up, only to turn to see a large cannon looking mechanism fire another one of the streams of light straight into the waning group of Yevonites. In a flash, the men disintegrated. Weston slowly walked forward as he no longer heard any opposing rifle shots. In the middle of the remaining Al Bhed soldiers, the "tank's" hatch opened, and out popped Rikku, breathing heavily.
Weston could see Gatta heading towards the tank and he did so as well, seeing Cid squatting next to a wounded soldier on the way.
Rikku wasn't smiling, but Weston knew the girl had adrenaline flowing through her veins. Weston looked up to her and she looked down to him, tilting her head.
Meekly, Weston said, "How much for one of these?"
"Free of charge."
Weston blinked, looking up to Rikku. She grinned almost devilishly.
"You can have anything you want,' she said firmly, and then added, "as long as I get to come along with some men to personally rip that bastard Nyka a new one."
Weston looked to Gatta, who shrugged, and then noticed Cid walking up, wiping his hands on the sides of his trousers. Cid nodded and Weston turned back to Rikku.
"You've got a deal," Weston replied with a grin.
--------------------
postA/N: Thanks to the following bands for providing loverly music that fits perfectly with certain parts of this chapter (and most of these guys are underground or unsigned, you'll find their stuff on MP3.com, if you're interested): Point of Recognition (now known as Count the Cost after a reformation), Burnt by the Sun, Carnal Forge, Nevermore, Haste (a fellow band from my state ^^), Overcome, Demon Hunter, Arch Enemy, Hyde, Reflux, It Dies Today, and Extol. This music keeps my energy up and eyes opened, because it's loud, fast, and heavy. Check 'em out if you like Death/Speed/Thrash Metal or Hardcore.
If you're curious as to the "Gil" I refer to in this chapter (and will be referring to the rest of the story), it's not really based on the Gil in the FF series. Why? Well, I guess I wanted to be creative. Global Info-Link dollars (http://www.gil.com.au/member-services/gil-dollars/index.shtml) are dollars you earn by renewing your subscription to GIL. It's a "loyalty program" used to keep subscribers to Global Info-links happy and ready to renew. For every 10 dollars (US) spent, you get 1 GIL dollar. So, two hundred thousand Gil would be 2 million dollars (US). Yeah, fuss and complain if ya need to, but I wanted to have some real-world connection to the currency used in this story. It's not very tried and true to the FF series, but this makes it a whole heck of a lot easier to convert between your monetary values. Like I said, I'm lazy :P
Oh and if you couldn't guess, this little chapter took longer. Why? Well, besides the Anime and gaming kick from Christmas (I received Neon Genesis Evangelion Perfect Collection, 12 hours, Escaflowne movie AND series boxed set, probably about 16 hours, and the Armitage III boxed set at 4 hours {I have both Armitage movies, but nothing compares to the series!}, and then, the following games have been sucking my attention away: Mortal Kombat Deadly Alliance, Ratchet and Clank, The Thing, Suikoden III, Medal of Honor: Spearhead, Freekstyle, Guilty Gear X, and my Neo-Geo emu and roms *innocent look*...) and the fact that so many web-comics are having such interesting story arcs. I'd like to call myself an online-comic aficionado because I follow so many...well, so many of the popular ones, that is. But two main ones have been grabbing me lately: First and always first, MegaTokyo. I've been following this fic since its inception and Piro's never failed to steal my attention away from whatever I need to be doing at the time. There's so much angst! And all those awkward moments. Makes you just wanna grab the monitor! Haha, and Largo's romps in the city...classic stuff. Second of all, Gene Catlow's first major story arc is about to come to an end, and what an arc it is. Blah, now I'm just rambling. New paragraph.
As you can tell, I follow online comics like a rabid lunatic. Every morning, before classes or before breakfast on weekends, I check every comic on its respective day. I have roughly 40 to check every two days, a few (like Demonology 101) every other week. So, blame them if I get lax. But, hey, I'm just boring ya with this page long A/N. Happy New Year, peeps. I'm gone to go check the midnight updates of a few comics. Just hope we don't get a Dead Piro Day... -.-