This room was supposed to help them choose - a huge wall hung with every weapon Garden could make or obtain. There was a range at one end, to help those who chose missile weapons. There were also pells for bladed weapons, and punching bags and other stationary objects for more close-combat choices.
The weapons were real, of course. Garden did not believe in protecting children from the consequences of stupidity or ill-thought gestures. In a very short time these children could become full-fledged SeeD; it would do no good to coddle them. The Weapons Master didn't try; she just glared at them like a valkyrie pulled off her coffee break until they calmed down.
"You're here to choose your weapon specialty," she said in a voice like the cracking of a whip. "You may test any weapon you like on any of the equipment here - don't worry about damaging it, that's what it's here for. If you can't reach a weapon, let me or one of my assistants know and we'll get it down for you. If any of you bring that wall down you will be lucky if you just get expelled from Garden. Once you've made your choice, come to me with it and I'll note it down. You may not make off with any of the weapons in this room - they're real, but in many cases they're the only models we have. We'll make you one of your own that's custom fitted to your own style and any design requests you may have - hope you've done your homework! All right - go on, take a look."
She stepped to one side, and indicated the young cadets were free to examine the weapons. Girls and boys immediately broke the line to study them up close, oohing and aahing over the ones they found.
The Weapons Master watched three of them in particular; she'd been warned by the Instructors that they were often involved in fights and didn't want them to try it in here. A lanky blond, just hitting his growth spurt, with angry green eyes. A much shorter blond with the legs of a runner and an air of devil-may-care friendliness. And a quiet brunette, pale eyes vaguely dissatisfied with the display before him. They didn't really look like much trouble, but the Master took the warnings of Instructors seriously.
Seifer picked up a heavy flamberge, the blade of the sword easily as tall as he was himself. He grinned wickedly as he 'accidentally' swung it dangerously close to the other two.
"Hey, watchit there!" piped Zell, just barely getting out of the way. "Whaddaya want something that big for, anyway?"
"Knights use swords," said Seifer. "It's all in the histories, dumbass. You'd know that if you ever paid attention in class."
"No good for distance shots though," dismissed the brunette, continuing his study of the wall as though he hadn't nearly been cut in half.
Seifer, failing to get a rise out of him, put the flamberge back and checked out the distance weapons, momentarily settling on a rocket launcher.
Zell decided to try to ignore his blatant attempts at unnerving him - the Weapon Master would get on Seifer's case big time if he fired a rocket launcher in here. "What're you gonna choose, Squall?" he asked, clearly respectful.
Squall didn't seem to notice, just running his eyes over the weapons. "I'm not sure," he said. "Something that works everywhere if I can find it."
Zell considered this, cocking his head back at the incredible display. "Don't think there is such a thing," he said. "Every weapon has a drawback. The missile weapons either run out of ammo or there's a delay while whatever it shoots comes back to you. And this melee stuff...if someone does point a gun at you it's useless. Screw the whole idea, anyway." He reached out and picked up a pair of combat gloves, a cestus. "I'll go for this. You'd have to take my hands off to disarm me. And I'll always have surprise on my side."
"Was that an offer, Chicken-wuss?" came Seifer's taunting voice. He was back to swords again, this time holding an admittedly beautiful rapier. "This'd cut those hands of yours off, no problem."
"Fuck off, Seifer," snapped Zell. "Have fun, Squall, I'm outta here." he trotted towards the Weapon Master with his choice, knowing that Seifer wouldn't dare respond where the woman could see.
Squall paid neither of them any attention, studying the weapons carefully. Once the choice was made it couldn't be altered; he'd have to do his best with his choice even if he found out it didn't really suit him. Zell's comments were valid, but they only made the choice harder. He moved away from the melee weapons, closer to the missile options. A whip, maybe? No. Too close, and there wasn't room to use it. Too far and it was out of range. Guns were good at any range...but they were easy. Any kid could use a gun; you didn't need Garden training for that. And while sharpshooting was respectably difficult, it was also the sort of specialty that involved a lot of sitting still. He'd be too likely to get lost in his own thoughts, losing opportunities. No, he needed something that involved his whole body - guns wouldn't work. Shaking his head, he looked back at the swords. Outdated, probably - but that just meant he'd have to be better with it, to work around its disadvantages. Maybe something with a broad blade, that he could use as a deflector if he could see where his opponent was aiming...
Up high, indicating it hadn't been used in a long time, was a very strange looking sword. It had a broad blade, though, so Squall walked over to one of the older cadets and asked if he'd get it down for him. When Squall took it in his hands, he saw why it looked so strange - it wasn't exactly a sword. It had a base like a pistol. He looked down the blade - yes, there was a little barrel in there. A rifle whose barrel was a blade? Well, it would solve Zell's dilemma. You could shoot for distance, and if you ran out of ammo you could still swing it like a sword. He frowned. If it was so good, why had it been so high up?
He walked over to the Weapon Master. "Tell me about this?" he asked, holding it up.
"It's a gunblade," the woman said matter-of-factly. "Sonovabitch to get the hang of, kid. Look - take a swing with it at one of the pells, you'll see."
Squall nodded and did as he was told, trying to get the blade to go where he wanted it to. It was difficult to use - because the hilt wasn't along the blade's axis, but angled from it. He tried two more swings, only getting one of them anywhere close to what he was trying for. The angled grip made keeping control of the blade much harder than it seemed. He set the tip on the ground, massaging his wrist. He decided to try the other half - the rifle half. He pulled the gunblade up and slung it over his shoulder so it wouldn't raise sparks on the floor, and walked to the range.
That angled grip didn't help when trying to aim it, either, he found. Guns wanted a perpendicular grip so you could sight along the barrel. The gunblade had to accommodate use as a sword and couldn't do that. The blade also was a drawback when trying to fire it, pulling the barrel downward with its weight. The 'bullets' turned out to be long and slim - and when he fired it, highly explosive on impact. Pity the bullet didn't hit the target; Zell would tease him for weeks about the new crater in the wall.
Well, he could see why it wasn't very popular. It had disadvantages all over the place - in trying to combine the best elements of sword and gun, it seemed the maker had also managed to make the advantages of either harder to access. It could take years to work around those disadvantages, and what would you have at the end of it?
Squall blinked. You'd have a weapon that nobody could beat. High cost, high reward. If he learned this thing's ways, he'd never be at a disadvantage no matter what his enemy was using.
"You too, huh?" came Seifer's voice, intruding on his speculation. "I already signed up for that before we came in here," he laughed. "My own design, too. Let Chicken-wuss outfist that." He grinned. "You don't want to take up the gunblade, Squall," he said in a threatening tone. "Cause you know that just means I'm gonna have to beat your ass down on a regular basis. Who else would I spar with, after all?"
Squall sighed, and added that to the gunblade's disadvantages. But maybe...maybe he could work his way around that one, too. Having thought it out already, the gunblade seemed to be exactly the sort of challenge he wanted and needed. If he had to deal with Seifer...well, being Zell's roommate he already had to deal with Seifer. He hefted the heavy monstrosity over his shoulder again and walked back to the Weapon Master. Seifer left him alone; you were supposed to make your choice and your specifications in private, and the Weapon Master was a stickler for tradition.
She seemed surprised that he was still carrying the gunblade. "You really want to use that?" she asked. "Must be something in the air. Nobody touches it for years, then two kids at the same time. Any modifications you want to request?"
Squall looked at it. He'd never seen one before today, and hadn't a clear enough idea of design flaws to have better options available. "What did Seifer change?" he asked curiously.
The Weapon Master scowled. "You know I'm not supposed to tell you that, kid," she said. "But since you're looking a bit lost...he asked for a longer blade and a heavier charge. I warned him it wouldn't shoot as accurately but that's what he wanted."
Good grief. It was already a bear to aim it at all, and Seifer wanted to make it harder? Not for the first time, Squall suspected Seifer of having a masochistic streak - seeing no value in something unless it was difficult to achieve. He looked at it. "I don't think I'd want that," he said. "Can you make it more accurate?"
It was the Weapon Master's turn to study the weapon. "Yeah, I think I can tinker with it to do that," she said. "It'll take some of the power away from the charge though."
Thinking of the small crater he'd just blown in the wall, Squall nodded. "That's fine." He looked at the smooth expanse of the blade. "Could...could I get an engraving on the blade?" he asked.
"It's going to be your best friend until you make SeeD, kid," the Weapon Master said with a laugh. "You can ask for us to engrave 'Seifer gives blow jobs for a nickel' on the thing and we'd do it. Make sure it's something you can live with for a while, though. We won't be touching any of the weapons after they're delivered - their care is supposed to be your job."
"I understand," said Squall seriously, the Weapon Master's attempt at humor completely passing him by. He reached into the shirt of his cadet uniform and pulled out a heavy platinum ring on a sturdy chain. Taking the ring off the chain and handing it to her, he said, "Can you put this on the blade?"
The Weapon Master was momentarily surprised; it was an adult's ring, heavy and valuable, and this kid had it on a chain around his neck. Of course, orphans could be strange like that. Maybe it was a family memento or something. She studied the carving; a roaring lion, claw raised to the attack. She pulled out a sheet of paper and sketched the design. "Yeah, we can make something more or less like that," she said. "Can't make any promises though - it's a good design and that tends to drive the engravers into fits of uncalled-for creativity. You mind?"
"No, not really," said the boy quietly, putting the ring back on its chain and letting it disappear back inside his shirt.
"Any other specifications you want to add?"
"No," said Squall.
"Then get off with you," said the Weapon Master, not unkindly. "I've got thirty more kids to register today. Look for your weapon to show up in a couple of weeks."
Squall nodded and left the room, but wasn't surprised when Seifer caught up with him. "You did it, didn't you," chuckled the taller boy. "You went and took up my weapon. Can't you be original for once?"
Squall hadn't chosen the weapon for any reason having to do with Seifer, but he knew the boy wouldn't believe that. So he just kept walking, and said nothing.
"You better not take my name for it," warned Seifer. "And if I find out you copied my design I am gonna beat you to a pulp."
Squall stopped and faced his rival then, a complete lack of fear evident in his stance. It wasn't courage, though. It was just a lack of caring for possible consequences. "It won't be like yours, Seifer," he said. "I don't want the same things you do."
"Oh?" asked Seifer archly. "What do you want then?"
"None of your business," said Squall, and resumed his walk back to the dorm.
"Doesn't matter, brat," snapped Seifer. "When it arrives, I'll know. We'll see who turns out to be better with it - you and me are gonna be training partners for a long time. If you survive it, anyway."
"I'll survive it, Seifer," Squall replied matter-of-factly as he reached his room. He entered and closed the door behind him, relieved that only Zell had the other key.
"I'll always survive it. That's the point."
When the weapons arrived, Squall carried them into his room before Seifer could say anything. Soon enough there would be comparisons, taunts, fights. He wanted a few minutes where the weapon of his choice was only his, and not some echo of Seifer's, or vice versa. He tossed Zell the light box that presumably held the combat gloves he'd asked for, and opened his own package.
Inside was a long black case, a magnificent silver lion's head on the lid. This must be what the Weapon Master had meant by 'uncalled-for creativity'. He hadn't asked for anything on the case, but damn it was beautiful. He traced it; the lion's head faded into a stylized cross at the neck. He'd have to get a necklace made like that; it suited him, and it complemented his ring. It would take the place of his ring when his finger finally fit the band.
Carefully he opened the case; nestled on black velvet was his new weapon. Simple and basic, somewhat sleeker than the model in the weapons room. On the blade was his lion, as requested, but the lion had wings and the etching was done so that any light that shone on it made it seem to flame. It was better than beautiful; it was magnificent. A rare smile crept onto his features looking at it.
"Holy shit, Squall," breathed Zell over his shoulder, almost right in his ear. "You know, that almost makes me regret not getting a sword. How'd they get that design?"
Squall scowled, the moment lost. "Back off," he snapped, so angrily that Zell obeyed in surprise. Squall reached into the case with one gloved hand and drew the weapon free, finding its sheath stored in a compartment underneath. This gunblade was made to fit his hands, and was somewhat easier to wield. Still terribly clunky though. He sighed; the moment was indeed lost. The weapon had gone from an image of fantasy to a challenge to be overcome. He'd have to prove he could wield it now.
As if on a cue, there was a pounding on their door. "Open up, Squall! I know you've got it now, it's time to put it to use!"
Seifer. Oh well, he'd known this was coming. He slung his new gunblade over his shoulder, and answered the door. Seifer was standing against the opposite wall, his new gunblade in front of him like a cane. It was indeed longer of blade than Squall's, its blade tapering into a fine point. It looked like a fang, or a tongue of flame.
"Say hello to the Hyperion," said Seifer, raising it. "You're going to be seeing a lot of this beauty, at close range if you're not careful. What's yours called?"
Squall blinked. He wasn't good at naming things. His ring had a name, but that was because it was special. Why name a weapon? Why glorify killing? Just because he would have to do it, didn't mean he should take any special joy in it.
Yet...treacherously, a name occurred to him. A name inspired by that magnificent etching...but it didn't suit the weapon, just the artwork. He'd save the name - until he found something it suited, or he could modify the gunblade to earn it. LionHeart.
For now, he looked down at the new weapon, and the only remarkable thing about it other than the etching was the chamber for the bullets. A revolver's chamber. Oh well. It would do. "...Revolver," he said at last.
Seifer snickered. "Imaginative as always, Squall," he sneered. "Come on, it's time to test them out."
Squall slung the Revolver over his shoulder again, and silently followed
his new training partner down the hall, to the first of many, many practices...