FINAL FANTASY VIII: BRIDGES
by Corvus
PART NINE
The first thing of which she was aware was a hand holding hers. The knowledge that she wasn't alone gave her the courage to fight her way out of a vague, cloudy nothingness, up toward consciousness. At first all she knew besides that touch was the raw, primal instinct to wake, to confirm life anew, but as she rose a kind of coherent thought returned, the kind of thought she often felt when drifting between waking and sleep.
(Where am I? Feels like a bed. That hand... Too small to be Raijin. Okay, so I'm not dead. I still feel horrible. Wonder if anybody got the ID number of that cadet that ran me down with the Ragnarok.)
She hovered just under complete wakefulness. She was tired, and coming this far had taken more out of her than she'd really been ready to give. Giving herself a few minutes to rest, she tried to decipher what had happened to put her in this state in the first place.
(The last thing I remember is Galbadia City. Came down with a nasty flu or something. Did I... Damn. Too hazy. I must have gotten really sick. Hundred gil says this is a hospital bed. But who's holding my hand?)
The unanswered question, more than anything, gave her the energy to shove her consciousness the last few centimeters toward the light of day, and, much to her instantaneous regret, Kazeno Fujin's one good eye cracked open on a sunlit room. In the fraction of a second her eye remained open, she recognized Balamb Garden's Infirmary. (Well, that settles that.) ...but she'd completely failed to see who was holding her hand. (Which means...)
With an embarrassingly weak groan she forced her eye to open against the unflinching assault of gleeful photons hell-bent on searing it right out of her skull. She still couldn't see who it was. (Just my luck. Right eye... left hand.) Which meant she would have to... (Okay, who's holding my head still? ...oh. Nobody. I just don't have the energy to move it. Wonderful.)
The presence she couldn't make out without turning her head shifted once, then twitched upright. Kazeno Xu stared wide-eyed at the other side of the room in the daze of one startled out of sleep. Her forehead was red and creased from where it had lain on the bed, and had she the strength to laugh, Fujin would most certainly have done so at her older sister's expense. The most she could reasonably do right now, though, was blink a few times and wait for Xu to look down.
After several seconds, Xu blinked out of her daze and turned to look at Fujin. Her mouth opened, then clamped firmly shut for a moment. At last she said, "I've missed you."
Mentally cursing both the damage to her psyche that somehow, to this day, made it incredibly difficult for her to speak more than one or two words at a time, and the weakness that kept her from communicating through the elaborate handsign language of the temple monks, Fujin whispered a simple, "Missed," and did her level best to squeeze her sister's hand. All their lives, the Kazeno siblings had worked at being able to communicate without words, and that single word and its accompanying gesture would get her point across, she was certain... but she would give much for the ability to give voice to the sudden riot of things demanding to be said.
Fujin could see ten thousand things in Xu's eyes as well, and wasn't surprised when her older sister wouldn't, or couldn't, speak. She wasn't sure how long they remained that way, looking into each other's souls, but the communion addressed a long-buried, poisonous doubt Fujin had done her best to ignore for years. She knew, beyond question, that her sister's love had never wavered.
(I don't deserve you,) she thought desperately. But Xu wasn't telepathic, even where Fujin was concerned, and she didn't hear it.
"I should tell the doctor you're awake," Xu whispered. "In fact, I wonder why Quistis hasn't pounced already." Xu's smile defused the odd tension that had built in Fujin's mind, but the relief was supplanted neatly by utter confusion. What did Quistis Trepe have to do with anything? Had something happened to Kadowaki? Didn't the doctor have assistants? Or was Quistis one of those assistants now? Helpless to crowbar the information out of her sister, Fujin could only watch as Xu rose and left the room. The air felt strange on her left hand.
(If I don't get some answers soon,) she thought darkly, (I'm going to be very, very angry.) After a second she added, (When I have the energy.)
Left alone, she had opportunity to catalog a number of other irritants. First off, she needed a shower. No two ways about that. Secondly, her mouth was as dry as the Kashkabald. And trumping it all...
(I could eat a chocobo. Saddle and all.)
How long had she been out? Days? Weeks? Months? (Get a grip, Fujin. Answers are coming.) She began a simple focusing meditation she had learned years ago from the temple monks, calming her mind. Her thoughts were the ripples on a pond. (The pond is still.) She repeated her mantra, willing the image to smooth into a glass-like surface. When the ripples ceased, she opened her eye once more and took an experimental breath. The faint antiseptic scent of the Infirmary subtly underlined the odor of stale sweat and a lingering, acrid hint of fear. (The pond needs to bathe.)
If Dr. Kadowaki had spent all night working, she refused to show it as she breezed into the room and stepped up to Fujin's bed -- on the *right* side. Xu returned to the stool on the left side and took Fujin's hand in her own again. "Poor Quistis fell asleep and didn't notice the increase in your vital signs," the matronly physician said brightly, "and our monitors aren't programmed to set off an alarm fit to rouse the dead in event of a *positive* change. I've been haunting the lab the entire night, so Xu had to come prod me. Well," Kadowaki continued with a deep breath and a big grin, "you have certainly turned medical science on its ear, young lady. How do you feel?"
(Like crap, obviously.) "Weak."
"I'll make this quick, then, you need your rest." The doctor held up a blood extractor -- a needleless descendant of the hypodermic -- and wiggled it, then took Fujin's arm gently and pressed the narrow tip of the device to the inside of her elbow. "You have contracted a previously unknown illness. We've been able to ascertain that whatever it is -- we're still not sure if it's a virus, bacterium or something entirely different -- feeds on undifferentiated para-magical energy. I assume you know what that is." Kadowaki pulled the extractor away and produced another empty one.
"Yes."
"Just a few hours ago you were closer to death than any other human being I have ever known or treated, Miss Kazeno," the doctor said with sudden gravity. "While I'm unbelievably pleased that you're awake, now, I'm also concerned as to what this means about your little unwanted guest, so I'm going to run some tests. I'll get more into detail about what we've done so far after you've gotten some rest."
Fujin's head still didn't want to move, so in lieu of a nod, she said, "Thanks."
Kadowaki smiled once more. "You're very welcome. Now get as much rest as you need." She breezed from the room, whistling a rambling little tune.
With a titanic effort only several orders of magnitude greater than that required to force coherent speech out of her own throat, Fujin turned her head so she could look at Xu and lifted her right arm so that she could sign, "Are you all right?"
"I've... been better," admitted Xu in their native tongue. "I talked to Raijin last night." At Fujin's raising of an eyebrow she continued, "I like him. I can see why you're such good friends."
(That's a relief.) Considering the past she and Raijin had with SeeD, Fujin was very surprised -- and pleased -- to hear her sister say that. "Have you spoken with our family?" she mimed.
Xu nodded. "I talked with Father a little last night, but the connection was bad... I should probably try to call him again, he must be frightened out of his wits. The connection broke right after I told him you were sick."
Kazeno Jin-Feng was not prone to panic. It took a will of steel for a man to defy tradition and common wisdom and send his daughters -- especially his one-eyed, albino daughter -- out into the wider world, to live with the xiong-jin in the hopes that they might gain an understanding of things beyond Tai Shan. It took the courage of a dragon to even dare entertain a private opinion that the traditional isolation of the Lin Ren might not be the best way to live. Jin-Feng was a man with such a will, of such courage. Surely he'd handle this just fine. Fujin signed, "Tell him I'm okay. He'll appreciate the news."
"I'll do that. Is there anything else you want me to say?"
Fujin hadn't spoken to her father in quite some time -- since before the Ultimecia War, in fact. This would be a perfect time to correct that mistake. "Send him my love," she told Xu with her motions, "and say I'll come home as soon as I can."
"Of course." Xu leaned over and brushed a light kiss across Fujin's cheek. "I just don't know how to tell you how happy I am that you're back."
(I really don't deserve you,) the albino thought once more. "Happy," she whispered, tapping herself. (Damn it all, if only I could break this blasted block. I just don't have the energy right now.) "Happy," she reiterated.
"Do you want me to tell Raijin you're awake?"
The big lug would probably explode with joy. After everything he'd done, he deserved it. "Affirmative."
Xu nodded and hugged her gently. Fujin drank in the contact, the first she'd had from blood family in far too long. Her vision blurred as her good eye ran with tears. (Oh, come on, you didn't wake up just to cry.) Xu released her and straightened, saying, "I'll go do that now. Get your rest so we can go see Mother and Father."
"Affirmative." The tears continued to stream from Fujin's eye, but she smiled despite them. After so much fear, doubt and pain, she could hardly believe her good fortune. As she watched her sister leave the room, Fujin thought, (Most people complain that they must have done something horrible in a past life and racked up a bunch of crappy karma. I must have done something unbelievably good, because I sure as Hell don't deserve all this good fortune. I'd better watch my step so I don't make whoever's being nice to me mad.)
--------------------
Irvine accepted the car keys from the mousey, bottle-bespectacled rental agent and nodded his thanks, then turned away, twirling the keyring around a finger of his free hand, the hardshell case carrying his broken-down rifle swinging in the grip of the other. The cadets were, he hoped, finshed with their first assignment -- finding clothes for Raijin. The situation was like a badly-scripted video game, really, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. The big man really didn't own anything besides the trailworn clothing he'd arrived with, and doubtless that outfit had been consigned to the laundry. At least Raijin had had the good sense to leave his pugil stick behind on the boat; there'd been absolutely no way to hide it, and it wasn't like he couldn't just pick up a lead pipe or a convenient two-by-four if he needed a weapon.
The black truck he'd just rented was easy to find on the small lot. With a quick glance back toward the office to make sure no one was watching, he set down his case, pulled a screwdriver out of an interior pocket of his coat and set to work switching the truck's license plate with the one from the vehicle next to it. (Just in case, mind.) Dollet TR-0124 had now become Dollet TR-0093. Yes, it was illegal, but so was the fake name he'd given the rental agent, and the moment he'd given that name he was already in over his head, so there was no sense in not taking every precaution. He doubted the agent remembered what he looked like, even now.
Still whistling, he climbed into the truck, tosses his case into the back and turned the key, starting the vehicle with a rumbling growl. He waited for a break in the heavy morning traffic, pulled out of the lot and drive to the end of the block. There Irvine put the truck into a parking space and settled in to wait. On an impulse he turned on the radio that was fast becoming standard in new-model civilian vehicles, now that Sorceress Adel's electromagnetic interference was gone, and began scanning through the stations.
"...no word from the Tyrell family either confirming or denying the rumor that Alyssa Tyrell, the middle daughter, has been kidnapped. Augustus Tyrell, the family's head, has refused all interviews, and Tyrell armsmen are actively patrolling the area around the estate grounds and ejecting news crews, so we've been unable to get close enough for even a hint of what might be going on inside." Irvine frowned at the radio as the reporter continued talking. No doubt the Tyrell family's private guard would be expecting them, but if newsies were snooping around, they'd doubtless pick up on the single truck being let through the gates of the estate. The situation could possibly change in the time it would take to drive there, but that would be good luck very short of a miracle.
"...know that Augustus Tyrell failed to win reelection to his Parliament seat last year in a stunning upset," another voice was commenting, "and the entire family's been even more secretive than usual for them since then, which means the general public barely knows they're alive. And now this total blackout. Augustus has to know this looks suspicious," the voice stated with a chuckle, "but it could mean any of a million things, really, and that works in his favor."
"Do you think this has the signs of being a publicity stunt?" a third voice querried.
The second voice laughed again. "If it is, it's sure working. The Tyrells have a history of being very straight-up when they *do* talk to the press, but it's completely possible that Augustus is just stirring up a little controversy. I personally wouldn't believe it, but it's not impossible."
What the hell had Squall sent them into? This was supposed to be a Field Exam, not a damn media circus. Irvine turned off the radio in disgust and looked up in time to see the three cadets leading a changed Raijin toward the truck. The big man was now wearing loose-fitting black pants, a white t-shirt stretched over his muscular chest, and a black vest, and with the nondescript kids carrying their hardshell cases he looked like nothing so much as one of the chaperones of a garage rock band of some sort. A small frown twisted his lips at the thought. He waved and caught Alan's attention, and the boy led them over to pile their bodies and cases into the truck.
"'fraid we got a little bit of a problem," Irvine drawled as he pulled the truck back into the flow of traffic. "The Tyrell estate's been completely sealed off from the newsies."
"We're not the media, though," Lydia said with a confused blink.
"No, but they're still out there, getting run off every so often by the Tyrell guards."
"Which means," Irene reasoned, "that somebody out there will see our truck be let onto the estate, right?"
Irvine nodded and brought the truck to halt at a red light. "You got it. Any ideas?"
Alan rubbed his chin thoughtfully and stared ahead, between Irvine and Raijin, at creeping cross-traffic. "We'll have to ditch the truck some distance from the estate, and hide it. Then sneak past any lurking newsies and either infiltrate the estate, or let ourselves be found by guards where the newsies can't see it."
"We can come back for the truck later after we talk to the Tyrells and figure out what's going on," continued Lydia as she picked up on her fellow cadet's train of thought. "Maybe we can have them distract the media or something while we drive it in."
Irene nodded in agreement. "We'll just have to make sure we hide the truck well enough that nobody will find it while we're busy."
Irvine asked, "You sure that ain't an unnecessary risk?" The cadets were probably already on the right track, at least generally, but it was his duty as an observer to be their safety net and he felt justified in prodding their scheme to make sure they were covering all the angles. There was one idea they were missing, but he couldn't provide it to them. "Nothin' else you can do?"
"Short of driving straight into the estate and sending the newsies into a feeding frenzy?" Alan rolled his eyes at the thought. "I think this is the best plan. Yeah, it's risky, but that's what we're trained for, isn't it?"
(Kid's got that right, at least,) thought Irvine. The light changed to green, and as Irvine pressed the accelerator he looked over at the still-silent Raijin. "Somethin' on your mind?"
"I was just thinkin', ya know," the big man replied quietly. "Why not cause a distraction, somethin' big and flashy for the media to look at, and make 'em look away while we drive right up?" Well, there it was. Yeah, Raijin had just given the cadets the answer Irvine couldn't, but in all fairness Jean-Paul LeFleur was being tested as well.
(Guess we can let it slide.) The sharpshooter glanced briefly back over his shoulder and saw that his charges had their heads together, already searching for the best way to put Raijin's plan into action. Again Irvine was struck with the image of playing chaperone and he wasn't enjoying it much. A very large part of him wanted to send the cadets home where they could safely play Triple Triad and watch movies while he handled the work that would probably turn bloody before it was all over. (But dammit, I can't do that. And if I stick my nose in too far I'll cheat these kids outta their rightful graduation. I'm really startin' ta hate this.)
"We've got a plan," Alan announced, breaking into Irvine's brooding. "Check this out..."
--------------------
by Corvus
PART NINE
The first thing of which she was aware was a hand holding hers. The knowledge that she wasn't alone gave her the courage to fight her way out of a vague, cloudy nothingness, up toward consciousness. At first all she knew besides that touch was the raw, primal instinct to wake, to confirm life anew, but as she rose a kind of coherent thought returned, the kind of thought she often felt when drifting between waking and sleep.
(Where am I? Feels like a bed. That hand... Too small to be Raijin. Okay, so I'm not dead. I still feel horrible. Wonder if anybody got the ID number of that cadet that ran me down with the Ragnarok.)
She hovered just under complete wakefulness. She was tired, and coming this far had taken more out of her than she'd really been ready to give. Giving herself a few minutes to rest, she tried to decipher what had happened to put her in this state in the first place.
(The last thing I remember is Galbadia City. Came down with a nasty flu or something. Did I... Damn. Too hazy. I must have gotten really sick. Hundred gil says this is a hospital bed. But who's holding my hand?)
The unanswered question, more than anything, gave her the energy to shove her consciousness the last few centimeters toward the light of day, and, much to her instantaneous regret, Kazeno Fujin's one good eye cracked open on a sunlit room. In the fraction of a second her eye remained open, she recognized Balamb Garden's Infirmary. (Well, that settles that.) ...but she'd completely failed to see who was holding her hand. (Which means...)
With an embarrassingly weak groan she forced her eye to open against the unflinching assault of gleeful photons hell-bent on searing it right out of her skull. She still couldn't see who it was. (Just my luck. Right eye... left hand.) Which meant she would have to... (Okay, who's holding my head still? ...oh. Nobody. I just don't have the energy to move it. Wonderful.)
The presence she couldn't make out without turning her head shifted once, then twitched upright. Kazeno Xu stared wide-eyed at the other side of the room in the daze of one startled out of sleep. Her forehead was red and creased from where it had lain on the bed, and had she the strength to laugh, Fujin would most certainly have done so at her older sister's expense. The most she could reasonably do right now, though, was blink a few times and wait for Xu to look down.
After several seconds, Xu blinked out of her daze and turned to look at Fujin. Her mouth opened, then clamped firmly shut for a moment. At last she said, "I've missed you."
Mentally cursing both the damage to her psyche that somehow, to this day, made it incredibly difficult for her to speak more than one or two words at a time, and the weakness that kept her from communicating through the elaborate handsign language of the temple monks, Fujin whispered a simple, "Missed," and did her level best to squeeze her sister's hand. All their lives, the Kazeno siblings had worked at being able to communicate without words, and that single word and its accompanying gesture would get her point across, she was certain... but she would give much for the ability to give voice to the sudden riot of things demanding to be said.
Fujin could see ten thousand things in Xu's eyes as well, and wasn't surprised when her older sister wouldn't, or couldn't, speak. She wasn't sure how long they remained that way, looking into each other's souls, but the communion addressed a long-buried, poisonous doubt Fujin had done her best to ignore for years. She knew, beyond question, that her sister's love had never wavered.
(I don't deserve you,) she thought desperately. But Xu wasn't telepathic, even where Fujin was concerned, and she didn't hear it.
"I should tell the doctor you're awake," Xu whispered. "In fact, I wonder why Quistis hasn't pounced already." Xu's smile defused the odd tension that had built in Fujin's mind, but the relief was supplanted neatly by utter confusion. What did Quistis Trepe have to do with anything? Had something happened to Kadowaki? Didn't the doctor have assistants? Or was Quistis one of those assistants now? Helpless to crowbar the information out of her sister, Fujin could only watch as Xu rose and left the room. The air felt strange on her left hand.
(If I don't get some answers soon,) she thought darkly, (I'm going to be very, very angry.) After a second she added, (When I have the energy.)
Left alone, she had opportunity to catalog a number of other irritants. First off, she needed a shower. No two ways about that. Secondly, her mouth was as dry as the Kashkabald. And trumping it all...
(I could eat a chocobo. Saddle and all.)
How long had she been out? Days? Weeks? Months? (Get a grip, Fujin. Answers are coming.) She began a simple focusing meditation she had learned years ago from the temple monks, calming her mind. Her thoughts were the ripples on a pond. (The pond is still.) She repeated her mantra, willing the image to smooth into a glass-like surface. When the ripples ceased, she opened her eye once more and took an experimental breath. The faint antiseptic scent of the Infirmary subtly underlined the odor of stale sweat and a lingering, acrid hint of fear. (The pond needs to bathe.)
If Dr. Kadowaki had spent all night working, she refused to show it as she breezed into the room and stepped up to Fujin's bed -- on the *right* side. Xu returned to the stool on the left side and took Fujin's hand in her own again. "Poor Quistis fell asleep and didn't notice the increase in your vital signs," the matronly physician said brightly, "and our monitors aren't programmed to set off an alarm fit to rouse the dead in event of a *positive* change. I've been haunting the lab the entire night, so Xu had to come prod me. Well," Kadowaki continued with a deep breath and a big grin, "you have certainly turned medical science on its ear, young lady. How do you feel?"
(Like crap, obviously.) "Weak."
"I'll make this quick, then, you need your rest." The doctor held up a blood extractor -- a needleless descendant of the hypodermic -- and wiggled it, then took Fujin's arm gently and pressed the narrow tip of the device to the inside of her elbow. "You have contracted a previously unknown illness. We've been able to ascertain that whatever it is -- we're still not sure if it's a virus, bacterium or something entirely different -- feeds on undifferentiated para-magical energy. I assume you know what that is." Kadowaki pulled the extractor away and produced another empty one.
"Yes."
"Just a few hours ago you were closer to death than any other human being I have ever known or treated, Miss Kazeno," the doctor said with sudden gravity. "While I'm unbelievably pleased that you're awake, now, I'm also concerned as to what this means about your little unwanted guest, so I'm going to run some tests. I'll get more into detail about what we've done so far after you've gotten some rest."
Fujin's head still didn't want to move, so in lieu of a nod, she said, "Thanks."
Kadowaki smiled once more. "You're very welcome. Now get as much rest as you need." She breezed from the room, whistling a rambling little tune.
With a titanic effort only several orders of magnitude greater than that required to force coherent speech out of her own throat, Fujin turned her head so she could look at Xu and lifted her right arm so that she could sign, "Are you all right?"
"I've... been better," admitted Xu in their native tongue. "I talked to Raijin last night." At Fujin's raising of an eyebrow she continued, "I like him. I can see why you're such good friends."
(That's a relief.) Considering the past she and Raijin had with SeeD, Fujin was very surprised -- and pleased -- to hear her sister say that. "Have you spoken with our family?" she mimed.
Xu nodded. "I talked with Father a little last night, but the connection was bad... I should probably try to call him again, he must be frightened out of his wits. The connection broke right after I told him you were sick."
Kazeno Jin-Feng was not prone to panic. It took a will of steel for a man to defy tradition and common wisdom and send his daughters -- especially his one-eyed, albino daughter -- out into the wider world, to live with the xiong-jin in the hopes that they might gain an understanding of things beyond Tai Shan. It took the courage of a dragon to even dare entertain a private opinion that the traditional isolation of the Lin Ren might not be the best way to live. Jin-Feng was a man with such a will, of such courage. Surely he'd handle this just fine. Fujin signed, "Tell him I'm okay. He'll appreciate the news."
"I'll do that. Is there anything else you want me to say?"
Fujin hadn't spoken to her father in quite some time -- since before the Ultimecia War, in fact. This would be a perfect time to correct that mistake. "Send him my love," she told Xu with her motions, "and say I'll come home as soon as I can."
"Of course." Xu leaned over and brushed a light kiss across Fujin's cheek. "I just don't know how to tell you how happy I am that you're back."
(I really don't deserve you,) the albino thought once more. "Happy," she whispered, tapping herself. (Damn it all, if only I could break this blasted block. I just don't have the energy right now.) "Happy," she reiterated.
"Do you want me to tell Raijin you're awake?"
The big lug would probably explode with joy. After everything he'd done, he deserved it. "Affirmative."
Xu nodded and hugged her gently. Fujin drank in the contact, the first she'd had from blood family in far too long. Her vision blurred as her good eye ran with tears. (Oh, come on, you didn't wake up just to cry.) Xu released her and straightened, saying, "I'll go do that now. Get your rest so we can go see Mother and Father."
"Affirmative." The tears continued to stream from Fujin's eye, but she smiled despite them. After so much fear, doubt and pain, she could hardly believe her good fortune. As she watched her sister leave the room, Fujin thought, (Most people complain that they must have done something horrible in a past life and racked up a bunch of crappy karma. I must have done something unbelievably good, because I sure as Hell don't deserve all this good fortune. I'd better watch my step so I don't make whoever's being nice to me mad.)
--------------------
Irvine accepted the car keys from the mousey, bottle-bespectacled rental agent and nodded his thanks, then turned away, twirling the keyring around a finger of his free hand, the hardshell case carrying his broken-down rifle swinging in the grip of the other. The cadets were, he hoped, finshed with their first assignment -- finding clothes for Raijin. The situation was like a badly-scripted video game, really, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. The big man really didn't own anything besides the trailworn clothing he'd arrived with, and doubtless that outfit had been consigned to the laundry. At least Raijin had had the good sense to leave his pugil stick behind on the boat; there'd been absolutely no way to hide it, and it wasn't like he couldn't just pick up a lead pipe or a convenient two-by-four if he needed a weapon.
The black truck he'd just rented was easy to find on the small lot. With a quick glance back toward the office to make sure no one was watching, he set down his case, pulled a screwdriver out of an interior pocket of his coat and set to work switching the truck's license plate with the one from the vehicle next to it. (Just in case, mind.) Dollet TR-0124 had now become Dollet TR-0093. Yes, it was illegal, but so was the fake name he'd given the rental agent, and the moment he'd given that name he was already in over his head, so there was no sense in not taking every precaution. He doubted the agent remembered what he looked like, even now.
Still whistling, he climbed into the truck, tosses his case into the back and turned the key, starting the vehicle with a rumbling growl. He waited for a break in the heavy morning traffic, pulled out of the lot and drive to the end of the block. There Irvine put the truck into a parking space and settled in to wait. On an impulse he turned on the radio that was fast becoming standard in new-model civilian vehicles, now that Sorceress Adel's electromagnetic interference was gone, and began scanning through the stations.
"...no word from the Tyrell family either confirming or denying the rumor that Alyssa Tyrell, the middle daughter, has been kidnapped. Augustus Tyrell, the family's head, has refused all interviews, and Tyrell armsmen are actively patrolling the area around the estate grounds and ejecting news crews, so we've been unable to get close enough for even a hint of what might be going on inside." Irvine frowned at the radio as the reporter continued talking. No doubt the Tyrell family's private guard would be expecting them, but if newsies were snooping around, they'd doubtless pick up on the single truck being let through the gates of the estate. The situation could possibly change in the time it would take to drive there, but that would be good luck very short of a miracle.
"...know that Augustus Tyrell failed to win reelection to his Parliament seat last year in a stunning upset," another voice was commenting, "and the entire family's been even more secretive than usual for them since then, which means the general public barely knows they're alive. And now this total blackout. Augustus has to know this looks suspicious," the voice stated with a chuckle, "but it could mean any of a million things, really, and that works in his favor."
"Do you think this has the signs of being a publicity stunt?" a third voice querried.
The second voice laughed again. "If it is, it's sure working. The Tyrells have a history of being very straight-up when they *do* talk to the press, but it's completely possible that Augustus is just stirring up a little controversy. I personally wouldn't believe it, but it's not impossible."
What the hell had Squall sent them into? This was supposed to be a Field Exam, not a damn media circus. Irvine turned off the radio in disgust and looked up in time to see the three cadets leading a changed Raijin toward the truck. The big man was now wearing loose-fitting black pants, a white t-shirt stretched over his muscular chest, and a black vest, and with the nondescript kids carrying their hardshell cases he looked like nothing so much as one of the chaperones of a garage rock band of some sort. A small frown twisted his lips at the thought. He waved and caught Alan's attention, and the boy led them over to pile their bodies and cases into the truck.
"'fraid we got a little bit of a problem," Irvine drawled as he pulled the truck back into the flow of traffic. "The Tyrell estate's been completely sealed off from the newsies."
"We're not the media, though," Lydia said with a confused blink.
"No, but they're still out there, getting run off every so often by the Tyrell guards."
"Which means," Irene reasoned, "that somebody out there will see our truck be let onto the estate, right?"
Irvine nodded and brought the truck to halt at a red light. "You got it. Any ideas?"
Alan rubbed his chin thoughtfully and stared ahead, between Irvine and Raijin, at creeping cross-traffic. "We'll have to ditch the truck some distance from the estate, and hide it. Then sneak past any lurking newsies and either infiltrate the estate, or let ourselves be found by guards where the newsies can't see it."
"We can come back for the truck later after we talk to the Tyrells and figure out what's going on," continued Lydia as she picked up on her fellow cadet's train of thought. "Maybe we can have them distract the media or something while we drive it in."
Irene nodded in agreement. "We'll just have to make sure we hide the truck well enough that nobody will find it while we're busy."
Irvine asked, "You sure that ain't an unnecessary risk?" The cadets were probably already on the right track, at least generally, but it was his duty as an observer to be their safety net and he felt justified in prodding their scheme to make sure they were covering all the angles. There was one idea they were missing, but he couldn't provide it to them. "Nothin' else you can do?"
"Short of driving straight into the estate and sending the newsies into a feeding frenzy?" Alan rolled his eyes at the thought. "I think this is the best plan. Yeah, it's risky, but that's what we're trained for, isn't it?"
(Kid's got that right, at least,) thought Irvine. The light changed to green, and as Irvine pressed the accelerator he looked over at the still-silent Raijin. "Somethin' on your mind?"
"I was just thinkin', ya know," the big man replied quietly. "Why not cause a distraction, somethin' big and flashy for the media to look at, and make 'em look away while we drive right up?" Well, there it was. Yeah, Raijin had just given the cadets the answer Irvine couldn't, but in all fairness Jean-Paul LeFleur was being tested as well.
(Guess we can let it slide.) The sharpshooter glanced briefly back over his shoulder and saw that his charges had their heads together, already searching for the best way to put Raijin's plan into action. Again Irvine was struck with the image of playing chaperone and he wasn't enjoying it much. A very large part of him wanted to send the cadets home where they could safely play Triple Triad and watch movies while he handled the work that would probably turn bloody before it was all over. (But dammit, I can't do that. And if I stick my nose in too far I'll cheat these kids outta their rightful graduation. I'm really startin' ta hate this.)
"We've got a plan," Alan announced, breaking into Irvine's brooding. "Check this out..."
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