Betweenpart7 Buckle up! The pace is gonna quicken right about now! Hey, don't forget to review!!!

*Treno, about the same time
The pale-haired, fifteen-year-old boy stared up at one of the nobleman's houses, admiring and critiquing the architecture of it. He felt the same way about the dark city; he loved aspects it of it, but he hated the rest. There was nothing about it that did not fit in either criterion. He shook his head at one poorly erected statue and continued down the dimly lit street. He was here for one purpose only: to determine if he might find a summoner somewhere. He had returned to Madain Sari once, but if there were any survivors, they had either already left or were hiding very well. He had asked several places where he might find someone with a horn, only to receive strange glares, and he was starting to run out of options. According to the book he had found, a summoner child could not retain eidolons until they were about sixteen, therefore he could not obtain the eidolon from a summoner of a lesser age.
Not that I have a wide selection to begin with, he thought discouragedly. He stopped outside of a worn down bar and stared grimly at it. It was the type of place assassins and bounty hunters might turn to for information, but Kuja didn't really fancy himself as either. A gruff, buff, and unshaven man came out of the pub sporting several throwing knives and a killer's eye. Ugh, definitely a miss, Kuja thought as he accidentally caught the man's discolored eye with his own. Aw, kuso…
"Who're you?" the man's hand strayed to one of his knives as he asked. Kuja looked away for a moment before looking back to see if the ruffian had moved. He hadn't.
"A…privateer, of sorts," Kuja answered. "I go nameless." The man was not convinced as he moved closer, his weapon bared.
"Pretty young to be a privateer…" he growled.
"You might think so…but I'm not like normal people," Kuja didn't move.
"Is that so?" With one fluid motion, the knife hovered dangerously close to Kuja's throat, and the streets cleared. "I have some questions that you'd better answer." Kuja closed his eyes and smiled, casting stop on his attacker.
"And if I refuse?" he taunted, for he knew the man could not answer. But the man could still hear him, so… "I'm am looking for a person with a horn…a horn in the middle of their forehead. If you or any of your cohorts have or receive any information on such an individual, you are to contact me. I will be around. Until then." Kuja waited until he was almost out of range to cast dispel. Then he continued on without a second thought of the man. He had to figure out a way to secure more supplies without destroying another village, so he did not risk losing another summoner. He sighed at his numerous troubles and looked up at another mansion. Quite suddenly, an odd thought occurred to him…


*Lindblum, the next morning
Zidane slowly opened his eyes, letting them adjust to the light that filtered in. Every part of his body was sore and aching, but it was a feeling he had become accustomed to. He never expected comfort anymore. As his senses awakened, he came to notice the sounds of another person. He tried to sit up to have a look around, but an unrelenting pain in his chest stopped him pretty quickly. His breath caught sharply in his throat as he tried to let himself back down.
"Blank said to breathe in yer gut, not yer chest," a deep voice reminded him from across the room. "Lie down, I'll help ya in a minute." Zidane took his advice—all of it. He closed his eyes until he became aware of a large presence hovering close to him. He looked up to see…a large…wolf-like?…pig-like? man. "You hungry?" the deep voice continued.
"Maybe…I can't tell…" Zidane answered. The man laughed a loud room-filling, horselaugh that, well, filled the room. "Gee-wiz, it isn't all that funny."
"Sorry, gwahaha, I thought it was," he continued to laugh.
"Gosh, when they said fat people were jolly, they weren't kidding." The man immediately stopped laughing. "Oops…I've overstepped my bounds."
"No kiddin'," the man said. "I was starting to think you were kinda cute."
"Huh. You get pressed by a hippo, kicked in the head, and have your spine yanked out a place via your derrière and see how cute you can be."
"Gwahaha," the man was laughing again. "I see yer point. You're alright, kid. I'm Baku, leader of Tantalus. My boys rescued you last night."
"Tantalus?"
"Yep. I'll explain later, but we're an acting company," Baku winked as he said this.
"Uh…oo-kay," Zidane raised his eyebrows in acquiescent acceptance.
"Gwahaha, here, lemme help ya up," Baku gently shifted Zidane to an upright position against the pillows. "There ya go. I got some stew over here," he said walking away to get it. "Believe me, you're hungry. I made this myself, so you'd better eat it."
"Um…is it gonna put hair on my chest or…something?"
"Gwahaha…you watch, I bet it will." Zidane considered this for a moment as Baku brought the bowl over to him.
"How much do you wanna bet?"
"Gwahahahaha!! Ye're sharp, kiddo. Say, what's yer name?"
"Zidane Tribal, now you try," Zidane grinned.
"Hehe…Zidane Tribal," Baku repeated. "And if I didn't get it right, too bad. So…where're yer parents?"
"Don't have any," Zidane answered as he looked apprehensively at the bowl of stew.
"Ah…so where're you from? What brings you here?"
"I haven't a clue…I never found out where I came from," Zidane explained as he managed to get his fingers to work around the spoon. "I came here because there were people here…"
"Ya have a name like that, and ya can't uncover any of yer origins?" Baku asked, seriously surprised.
"Funny, huh?" Zidane looked up, a smile working the corners of his mouth. "So, what about Tantalus?"
"Well, a while back I tried to start a theatre troupe," Baku obliged. "I succeeded, I guess, but my actors ain't the most popular around, so… Anyways, we're in a hell of a lot a debt. So we kinda have to take up odd jobs and—what's so funny?" Zidane was suppressing his giggles in an attempt to spare his ribs.
"Pardon me if I assume too much," he leaned his head back to smile at the ceiling, "but what you're trying to tell me, without telling me, is that you're basically a group of bandits, who are making 'Tantalus' a truly worthy name, am I right?"
"You definitely assume a lot," Baku shook his head in amazement. "But that's about right. Sorry to disappoint you."
"'Sokay," Zidane smiled again as he stirred at the stew. "I'm not so clean myself…I mean, you rescued me, right? You all can't be that bad. Or am I sorrowfully mistaken?"
"No…you're good. Whaddya mean, you ain't so clean?" Baku leaned forward.
"Well…sometimes you can get people to give you what you need…and sometimes you have to take it."
"Uh-huh. Whaddya say we see if we can make an actor outta you?"
"Think we can manage?" Zidane cast him a sly glance.
"With you?" Baku almost laughed again. "Hey, the way you talk? No problem, ya already got more feelin' into yer speech than a likeable politician. Ya learn to project and I'd say yer good to go."
"Let's say we work on that after the ribs heal, hmm?"
"Let's say you finish that stew."


*Treno, some time later
The red mage hit the ground with a thud. He looked up at the younger mage, fear replacing the anger in his eyes as he stared into the pale skin of the outstretched palm.
"I suppose I could ask one last time," Kuja told him coolly.
"L-look," the man who the locals claimed could discover anything finally decided to try reasoning. "That's a tall order…I don't think the chances are all that great and--"
"Do I look like I care?" Kuja withdrew his hand to brush his hair from his eyes.
"W-what'll you pay?" the red mage was just trying to get rid of him at this point. Kuja knew it too.
"That depends on the results…" Kuja stretched his arms lazily and looked curiously over some of the stray papers on the desk.
"Hey!" the mage was arguing again as he climbed to his feet. "Why should I work for you? I have no idea who you are, or even if you can pay me, or what kinda trouble I'd get into associating with you!!!"
"The only trouble you'll get will be the direct result of not cooperating with me. You can be certain of that. Have we a deal, or have we a problem?"
"Hmph. Some deal…but I'll do it." Kuja smiled back at him as he made his way to the door.
"I'm glad you understand, I'll be back in about a week. Don't bother to look me up; I'll find you."
"Wait," the mage interrupted. "This…horned person..." Kuja closed the door and turned back to face him.
"Yes?"
"Do you…know anything about them? Anything at all?"
"Well," Kuja looked at the ceiling. "No doubt you've heard of the summoner tribe… This tribe's members all had horns in the center of their foreheads."
"You're looking for a summoner?" the mage's eyes widened. "Are you nuts? They've been extinct for centuries!!"
"Not extinct," Kuja corrected, "exiled. I'm simply looking for a…survivor. A refugee of a recently destroyed village…destroyed by unexplained causes a few years ago. This person may be of either gender and of any age. Any lead will do."
"If you know all that, why did you come to me?"
"Like I said, I'm looking for a lead," Kuja continued. "There may be no survivors, in which case I have hit a dead end. But there is no rush; I only suggest you do as much as you can as soon as you can for your own sanity's sake. On that note, now that I think about it, do you know of any others like yourself?"
"A few…I can give you they're names…but what does this all come down to?"
"Like I said…it depends on the results."


*Nearby, about the same time.
An airship full of miner mages slowly floated along the coastline, scanning the cliffs for various traces of metal. These black mages were all smaller than the other prototypes. They were designed to have stronger magic powers, than their counterparts and were smaller so they could fit through caves and tunnels. The little black mages marched mindlessly back and forth across the deck to fulfill their duties. They did not notice when one of them was suddenly yanked off the ship by the collar of his coat by an unseen force…


*Lindblum, two months later.
Zidane followed Marcus and Blank into town. They were "cruising'," or looking for odd jobs. This was his third time doing this since he had joined Tantalus, and he never really did anything when he did this. He only came along to escape the boredoms of not doing anything. He had already cleaned the entire hideout from such boredom, and it looked presentable now. However, being able to walk kind of required Zidane to walk. So he aimlessly followed Blank around who was aimlessly following Marcus around who was doing a lot of pointless things. He followed them through the streets of the Industrial District, looking at it in a whole new way now that he was no longer homeless. It was then that he brushed shoulders with another boy…
"Roquel?!" he exclaimed in surprise.
"Zidane?!" the other joined in the same breath. The two simply stared at each other for a while, not certain of what to do or what to say.
"Wow, it's been a while…" Zidane finally said. "How've you been?"
"Where have you been?" Roquel finally got out. "We all thought you were arrested or something…"
"Aw…you were worried about me? Sweet."
"We, um, would've killed you, but—" Roquel started to say, but found himself unsure of what he was trying to say. Zidane relieved him.
"Hey, I never got a chance to thank you all."
"Thank us?!"
"Yeah," Zidane nodded. "If it hadn't been for you, I would never have found a home, but some people adopted me because I needed medical attention, and now I work for them. So, thanks." Roquel stared slack-jawed for a while before frowning at him.
"Look at you…already you're back to mocking us again, what's with that? Huh? Didn't we hit you hard enough the first time?" Roquel at this point adjusted himself to a threatening position with his hands clenched into fists. Zidane could not help but laugh.
"I was serious," he protested between chuckles.
"Zidane!" Blank called from behind him. "We've been looking all over for you! You're supposed to—great globs of tuna!!" Roquel turned to look at Blank, who he had never seen before.
"'Sokay, Blank," Zidane turned to him. "We were just having a friendly chat." Blank stared at Zidane awhile, during which Roquel stared at him.
"You are really unbelievable, you know that?" Blank finally told him. "Waaaaay too confident for your own good. Stick with me so I can make sure you're more careful, 'k?" Zidane rolled his eyes back into his head.
"Whatever," he turned back to Roquel. "I'll see you around, Lion king."
"How 'bout not?" Blank said, grabbing his arm and pulling him down the street.
"Whatever," Roquel echoed. Once Blank and Zidane had caught up with Marcus, Zidane was through with Blank's lecturing.
"You do know that I'm not listening, right?"
"I was starting to think that," Blank groaned.
"Cool it, you two," Marcus had drawn to a halt. They were just outside one of the meaner joints in the city. "Maybe you should wait here…"
"You must be kidding!" Blank objected. "You can't go in there all alone! What if—"
"Would you quit worrying?" Zidane muttered.
"You don't get it! Marcus, we don't even need to be here…we don't want to be working for any riffraff that might hang here!"
"Chill. Nothing's gonna happen," Marcus motioned for them to follow him into the pub.
"Aw man…" Blank shuddered but followed Zidane inside. Once they got there, someone, or three someones, was already confronting Marcus. "Aw, man!!" He grabbed Zidane's arm and whispered into his ear, "Those are some of Gilgamesh's pals…they don't like us."
"Well…at least not Marcus," Zidane agreed.
"We gotta get outta here…" he continued. Just then, the man pushed Marcus back, shouting at him.
"Hey, Marcus!" Zidane called out.
"Shhh!" Blank tried to hush him.
"You just gonna let them push you around like that?"
"Zidane! They're armed!" Blank grabbed for his arm, but Zidane had already launched himself onto the table. "Idiot! Get back here!!"
"A pal of yours?" the thug elbowed Marcus sharply.
"Uh…"
"Too bad the good friends aren't the smart ones," another one sneered, and pulling a dagger from his belt, threw it at the tailed boy on the table.
"Zid—" Blank's cry was cut short by what he saw next. Zidane looked at the blade stopped short just an inch of his midsection. He had caught the weapon by the handle. Slowly, he turned the blade away from himself and held it towards the three men.
"Maybe you should move along," he suggested, his voice like ice. The trio was already looking a mite frightened as they pushed each other out the door. Zidane stepped off of the table, ignoring the stares of the other patrons and went back to examining the dagger, running his fingers over the smooth leather hilt.
"Dang, Zidane," Marcus came over to him. "Where'd you learn to do that?"
"Honestly?" Zidane grinned. "I don't know."
"Dammit, Zidane!" Blank had finally retrieved his voice, "Don't do that again!"
"Why not, worry-wart? It was pretty cool, don'tcha think?"
"Geez…"
"Actually, I'm glad I did that; check it out." He held up the dagger for his friends to see. "Nice, huh?"
"Lemme see," Marcus reached out for it.
"Mine," Zidane stated possessively as he handed it to him. Marcus laughed.
"Of course," he nodded as he looked at it. "Dang, it is pretty nice." He handed it back to its owner.
"Good grief," sighed Blank. "Can we leave now?"
"Sure," said Marcus.
"Man," Zidane shifted his grip on the dagger, "why couldn't he have thrown a sheath too?" Marcus laughed again.
"I'm sure we can find something," he assured his little cohort. "Hehe, the boss'll never believe this!"
"Teehee," Zidane joined in the laughter, "we shouldn't tell him how I got it…I bet he won't even notice!"
"You guys…" Blank shook his head in despair. "You're so cocky. Zidane, have you any clue just how lucky you were?"
"Lucky? I'm never lucky; of course, that could change…" he held the dagger up again. "Hey, I'll name it 'Lucky' so it'll remind me to look at things differently. How does that suit you, Blank?"
"I think you're mocking me."
"No, you think that didn't scare me?" Zidane asked.
"If it did, you hid it very well."
"Thanks. I'm trying to be a good actor. I almost peed on myself when I saw that guy whip this thing out, but then my reflexes kicked in and everything was all good. So…I'll try not to be so foolhardy in the future, 'k?"
"You use big words for a seven-year-old," Marcus put in.
"Fine," Blank finally responded. "Lucky it is."
"Great! Hey, can I call you 'Mom'?"


*Quan's Dwelling, time???
Quan looked curiously at the fish he had just caught out of the clouds. It didn't exactly look like a fish, and it didn't look very edible, either.
"What kind fish are you?" he asked it. It stared blankly at him. "Oh, fish don't talk, I forget." It continued to stare blankly at him. "Hmm…maybe you not fish. Many things no talk." He walked around his catch, examining it. Suddenly, he noticed something printed on the thing's hat. "VI" it read. Quan looked curiously at this for a while, wondering what it meant. He then chanced to look at the other side of the hat. "VI" was printed there, again.
"Oh," a light bulb turned on in Quan's mind. "I understand! Vi and vi make Vivi! You are Vivi!" "Vivi" continued to stare blankly at him…


*The Desert Palace, a year later.
Sixteen-year-old Kuja lay sprawled out on his bed considering his notes on magic theory. With his hidden palace completed, the search for the summoner well underway, and the money pouring in thanks to an ingenious idea, Kuja was able to take away time to train. This, unfortunately, was beginning to seem necessary.
He was beginning to master a powerful technique known as "flare." It was a difficult move that required a significant amount of energy, so many high level mages never even bothered with it. However, Kuja figured that there was a way not only to increase the effect of the spell without using more energy but also to cast it on multiple enemies… He only had to determine how… Because if this worked, he hoped he could master some of the revered Terran spells…a beeping sound interrupted his thoughts. He looked up to see that the sound came from his link to the Invincible . Garland? Now? he was rather surprised that the man had managed to contact him. He threw a sheet over his work, fixed his now long hair, and brought the line up on his main screen.
"Who calls at this hour?" he asked as he answered.
"I do…finally," Garland said.
"Garland? What a surprise! How did you get through? My company doesn't take long distance calls."
"It wasn't easy," Garland answered, his humor obviously running short. "But I finally patched through to you.
"Well, I must say, it has been a while…"
"I probably could have gotten a hold of you sooner, but, though this may surprise you, I have better things to do than try to track you down."
"No doubt," Kuja responded coldly. "So, since I seem to be intruding on your precious time, what is it that you wanted?"
"I wanted to know what you've been doing," Garland stated. "As far as I can tell you have made no progress."
"I've made plenty of progress, although thank you for your concern," Kuja retorted.
"Yes, but doing what?" Garland leaned closer to the screen. "How many people have you killed, my angel of death, since I last spoke with you, hmm?"
"Four—no wait!" Kuja paused to think. "Seven."
"Seven?!" Garland looked a little sick. "In three years, you've managed to kill seven people?!"
"I like to start small."
"I gave you a high quality weapon of mass destruction, why can't you just use that?!"
"Because you gave it to me," Kuja shrugged. "I am going to prove myself worthy by doing this my way, without your assistance."
"Humph," Garland raised an eyebrow. "Speaking of worthy, any word from Zidane?"
"No," Kuja managed to say, although he wanted to vomit.
"Honestly, now," Garland warned.
"No," Kuja repeated.
"I suppose I shouldn't worry," Garland resolved aloud. "He'll contact me when he gets the opportunity."
"Maybe," Kuja agreed. "If he's still alive."
"He's alive," Garland said without emotion.
"We can always hope," Kuja tried not to sneer. Not that you care about Zidane's well being. You are only thinking of those five years going down the drain.
"I have a new assistant for you," Garland said. "She's not anywhere near as good as Zidane, and possibly not even as resilient as you, but she'll do until we find him."
"Garland," Kuja was nearly shaking with frustration.
"I expect you to come back right away," he continued.
"Garland!"
"Even though she won't be ready for a while, I don't trust you down there."
"GARLAND!"
"What is it?"
"These words," Kuja spoke steadily, although he was having a time controlling his temper, "that are coming out of my mouth in complete phrases and sentences? They mean something. Have you noticed? I've been telling you something with those words; do I need to start over and try again? Did you not understand any of it?"
"Oh, I heard you," Garland assured him. "But you are highly defective, and lacking in the area of judgment. Do as I say; it's what you are meant to do."
"You must add insult to injury! I don't care what you think, old man! Sure, I'll do what you sent me to do, just watch!"
"Kuja, it seems that your emotional status is erratic; trust me, you need to get back here," Garland replied evenly.
"Oh! As if you're all hearts and flowers when you're frustrated?" Kuja hit the table for emphasis.
"Calm down, you've been alone on Gaia too long; it is not good for you."
"I'm fine," Kuja drew himself to his full height. "I'm stronger than you think and I don't need you advice or your silly assistant. And I'll prove it, whether you want me to or not!" He cut the connection, and when it beeped again, he left the room. Come to me, my summoner; I can wait, yes, but He can't…Come soon…


*Quan's Dwelling, another year later
"Vivi, go get water from spring!" Quan called out to his silent helper, who was still too small to eat, and probably not edible anyway.
"Why?" a voice came behind him.
"Why? Need water to cook, that why!"
"Oh…" Suddenly Quan realized someone was talking to him.
"Who say that?!" he spun around.
"I-I did…" the little creature said. Quan looked at it in surprise.
"It talk! Vivi talk! Holy Frogger, Vivi talk!!"
"I-I'm sorry, sh-should I n-not?"
"No, no, no! You may talk! You just not do before now… When you learn to talk?"
"I d-don't know, I was j-just wondering why you w-wanted me to get water, a-a-and I asked," Vivi stuttered.
"You talk good," Quan observed. "Maybe learn talk better later, but need water from spring! Need cook! Go get water!"
"O-okay," Vivi replied.
"After we eat, I teach more of your whys!"