The History of Final Fantasy 8:
The Mob Rules
by Andromache
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Final Fantasy 8, nor do I own the song, "The Mob Rules" by Black Sabbath. Sue me not. I own the characters of Glorior Almasy and Arwen Leonhart though.
These parts are out of order, depending on when I thought up the plot. I will title each chapter with its respective time, and the genre will change according to the chapter itself.
~o0O0o~
This is how I envision the future before SeeD had ever been created. The reason that the people here know about SeeD is because SeeD was in the past and thus knowable to the future. The timeline gets messy, but I think I figured it out.
If you listen to fools....
-Black Sabbath
The empty night was oppressive, its hunger to be filled, overwhelming. No one walked the streets this night. Maybe they were too frightened to leave their safe little homes with a single candle burning in the windows. Each and every house had a candle burning within it in solidarity against the Sorceress Ultimecia. Esthar was quite technologically advanced, true, but Ultimecia, through Adel, was the one who had made those advances, therefore, they were evil and to be shunned.
Streets were no longer cobblestone in the years after the SeeDs had mucked around with time and defeated the Sorceress, but the residents of Esthar were still afraid to walk outside at night. Ultimecia was still alive and powerful in their time, and they feared her wrath when she fumed about her defeat, which she could do nothing about. Nothing changed no matter how many times she decided to go into the past and attempt to defeat the SeeDs.
This night was one of those nights where women clutched their babies to their breasts and looked to their absentee husbands for comfort. The men occasionally led rebellions against the sorceress, which generally turned out badly for them, losing hundreds of lives each time. They never quit though. Quitting meant that you were as whipped as the servants in Ultimecia's twisted castle.
Tonight, the men huddled themselves against the howling winds outside the sorceress' castle, studying plans to break in and kill her. Most carried weapons of some sort, the classic gunblade of the hero, Squall Leonhart, the nunchaku of Selphie Tilmitt, the rifle of Irvine Kinneas, or the whip of Quistis Trepe. Others used magic like the Sorceress Rinoa, and still others wore gloves in honor of the feisty Zell Dincht. They nervously milled about, shivering and waiting for their leader to appear.
When he appeared though, Glorior Almasy received such a deep, profound respect from the crowd that he solemnly bowed his head and prayed for success. These people deserved to be free of Ultimecia's wrath. They said that the winds would calm down after she was dead, that they would finally see the sun. The grass would grow green, and the flowers would bloom like the rosy cheeks of their wives when they blushed.
Glorior saw the men there as desperate saviors of a dying world. The light that they prophesied would shine from the sun was already glowing in their half-starved eyes. He, himself, was no exception, his hereditary green eyes seemed to have an extra bit of spark in them underneath his strong brow. His golden hair, cut short like his ancestor, Seifer Almasy, was a stark contrast to the color-deprived landscape.
He leaned over the rusty table where the plans were laid out for the assault. Every man knew the map by heart. No one needed to be told where to go. They had lived this plan for months because there was no room for error in their mission. It was imperative that they keep their cool.
The groups of six men apiece gathered, Glorior leading the group that would attack Ultimecia directly in her throneroom. Covertly sneaking about the perimeter of the walls, Glorior waved his group forward, narrowly avoiding the monsters that lay about the grounds, some shamelessly in heat and rutting out in the open air. His group crawled against a stone wall that took them into the castle, the darkness even more ominous inside than the devouring night without.
Other groups distracted the larger beasts in the castle, making soft hisses as they fought without alerting any more guards or, worse yet, Ultimecia to their whereabouts. Glorior smiled at them as he passed, silently praising their works. That smile meant more to them than he knew. A smile from Glorior meant that all was well and that so far they were succeeding in their objective. A group of men baited Tiamat as his group passed by. Glorior flashed that smile once again, and his group entered Ultimecia's throne room.
The diabolical sorceress stood up from her throne when she saw them, hissing with rage.
"So this is how I am defeated? By a lot of scrawny, underfed weaklings? How is this possible?" Ultimecia growled.
Staring straight into her yellowed eyes, Glorior sneered and replied, "You never expected us to kill you. Always the SeeDs. Never the huddled masses right beneath your nose. Surprise. Happy Birthday."
She stuttered before she returned a volley of her own. "I...I was never surprised! I was expecting this!"
"Right, and I am not Glorior Almasy." He lifted the ancestral gunblade, the Hyperion, passed down through the ages, and taunted, "You want to go to their present? I have a present for you right here."
"Die, you human weakling!" Ultimecia blasted a Meteor spell his way, but Glorior dodged it easily.
"You're getting soft in your old age, Ultimecia." She nearly hit him that time.
"Leonhart! Dispose of this scum!" Ultimecia motioned for the hollow eyed man chained to her throne to attack Glorior. His empty blue eyes barely registered the command, but he arose from his sitting position, clothed only in loose-fitting black pants. Arwen Leonhart rushed at Glorior in a screaming fury, disturbing Glorior more than frightening him. Arwen scratched at Glorior's eyes, but the rebellion leader brought his elbow down hard on Arwen's nape. The descendant of Squall Leonhart fell to the ground, coughing and spitting, useless now to Ultimecia.
Ultimecia backed away from Glorior, who was now seething with rage.
"Come here, little sorceress," he crooned. "This won't hurt one bit." Glorior tapped the flat of his gunblade against the palm of his left hand. He felt the adrenaline rush through his veins, removing any pain or soreness he might have felt.
The rest of his group followed behind him. They were swept up in the action of the duel and jeered Ultimecia.
"You won't hurt us anymore, you dirty slut."
"Who is running from whom now?"
"We won't shiver because you want us to. Our blood will never stain the snow again."
"What are you going to do?"
"Get her!"
The five men pushed past Glorior and attacked Ultimecia, slashing furiously. Weakened by the assault, she fell to one knee as Glorior attempted to calm them. This wasn't part of the plan, he thought. They were supposed to destroy the Junction Machine Ellone while he fought the sorceress, so she could not go back into the past.
"Stop! Destroy the machine! I will kill her!" Glorior's shouts went unheard in the mob's ears
"No!" He kept attempting to reach them as they forced the evil sorceress backwards, towards the time machine.
Ultimecia clawed behind her and started the machine. The Junction Machine Ellone whirred to life, and the air rushed about them in a cyclone. A portal to the past opened up, and Ultimecia laughed at Glorior as she fell into the portal which closed before Glorior could leap into the past after her.
He fell to his knees and screamed, "No!"
~o0O0o~
See you in the next chapter!