Disclaimer: All the little ones and zeroes here are copyrighted exclusively
by me. If you use any of them, I'll be very, very upset.
Furthermore, I made up all these characters. That game you think you played that you think was called Final Fantasy 9 is just a figment of your imagination. I control what you think. Serve the Overmind! For Chairman Yang! .Anyway.
Seeing Beyond, Chap. 3
I am Blank.
Why did he leave me alive?
Why did he skewer my Rebecca, while I stood frozen in doubt and indecision?
Why did he let me go, knowing that I would have my revenge, or die trying?
Who was he?
Blank liked working on the airships. It was mindless, near-pointless work - tightening rivets, checking fault lines, polishing levers. La de da. But it helped him not to think.
When he thought, it got ugly. Blank preferred not to think. He preferred to tighten, wipe, polish. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
After the "non-incident" (If we all deny it, it won't be true!) Blank was thoroughly debriefed by Regent Cid himself. He'd sat in an empty room, facing an impersonal looking glass wall, behind which stood an impersonal looking Regent. They'd asked him a great many questions...about Alexandria, about the Extraction Chamber, and about the man. Blank answered them to the best of his ability. And then they asked him about Rebecca...
Scrub. Dry. He'd been dishonorably discharged from the Lindblum Armed Forces (He couldn't be kicked out of the Black Omega, because they didn't exist) and told never to show his face in the Grand Castle again. Blank had packed up his sword, his Disc, and his few belongings, and fled the city.
That was almost a year ago. Now, after bumming a few airship rides and a healthy amount of walking, he'd found himself in Treno. The City of Eternal Night, Sin City, the City of Nobles...Blank really didn't pay attention to all that. For him, it meant work - albeit degrading work. He'd found that he had a natural instinct for working on airships..it was just something he was good at.
Today, he was servicing a real looker - a sporty Eidolon-class luxury airship with a full retrofit job that left it even more disgustingly luxurious than it had been before. Its sole purpose, other than occasionally conveying some very silly people around, seemed to be to say "I'M RICHER THAN YOU! HAHAHAHAHAHA!" They were a dime a dozen in Treno. It was a place of sickening wealth.
Blank was going over the luxury quarters when he happened to notice something partially protruding from underneath a couch. He bent over and retrieved the item...which looked to be a very expensively-made leather wallet. He opened it up...and whistled at what he saw.
If he was reading the numbers right - and it looked like he was, the wallet was carrying something like 80,000 gil in cold hard cash. Blank, at one point in his life, had accumulated something along the lines of 2,350 gil. He'd never SEEN so much money in one place, let alone held it.
Now, Blank was faced with a quandary. He very much wanted to just walk away with that wallet in his pocket, or, alternatively, buy a modest airship and fly away with it. He VERY much wanted to do that. The problem was, he was known to be the only person servicing that airship, and it'd be pretty easy for the local authorities to put two and two together. Once that happened, these Treno nobles were VERY good at getting their man captured. When you've got nearly infinite financial resources at your time - it's not too hard to light a fire under the cops' bellies.
Blank stood, wracked with indecision. Finally, his love for his freedom won out, he pocketed the wallet, and went to consult his supervisor.
His supervisor was an overweight, follicly-challenged man named Bartle - who'd lived in Treno his whole life and was extremely angry that it hadn't made him rich. He took out his anger on all his subordinates...so Blank wasn't too fond of him. His aura was a mixture of reds and oranges. Nevertheless, he knocked respectively on the door, got an irritated "Come in!" from the other side, and entered.
Bartle looked up as he closed the door behind him, and the supervisor's face contorted in an expression of severe disgust. "Whaddya want, Blank?"
Blank stood at ease. "I found a wallet on the "Blue Gecko" that's got quite a lot of money in it. I think it belongs to one of the nobles."
Bartle considered, before finally holding out a hand. "Give it here. Lemme take a look."
Blank handed over the wallet, and crossed his arms behind him. Bartle flipped open the wallet, took a look at its contents...and his mouth fell open.
"Th-th-this is.is.eighty-thousand!" he gasped, his eyes sucking in the currency greedily. "M-m-man!"
Blank nodded, evenly. "Yessir, it is. I think we should return it to its owner."
Bartle finally tore his eyes away from the wallet, looking back up to Blank. It was obvious he was having the same kind of problem Blank had been having - not a moral problem, but one of simple common sense. Finally, he nodded, reluctantly.
"Yeah...yeah, of course you're right," he said, the words sounding as if they were being forced out of him. "Here. You take it. Belongs to a Lord Dandulan...I bet you'll find him at the auction house. And I'll also bet he hasn't made any bids yet."
Blank nodded, reclaiming the wallet. "Yessir." He beat it.
Blank stood before the great double doors of the auction house, admiring the architecture. He'd never actually been inside, before - the cheapest item probably cost double his life savings. A smoothly-dressed attendant walked up, eyed his eyedisc and ragged clothing, and adjusted his attitude accordingly.
"Whatcha want, boy?" as opposed to "Can I help you, sir?"
Blank made a little half-bow, appropriate for the street scum that he was. "Excuse me, sir, but I have Lord Dandalun's wallet. I heard he was in here..."
The attendant narrowed his eyes to slits at him, but finally nodded, and jerked a finger behind him. "Eighth row, dressed in the blue outfit. Make it snappy, stay low, and for Crystal's sake don't draw any attention to yourself."
Blank nodded, and quietly slipped in through the little side entrance. He maneuvered through the corridor and emerged in the back of the auction commons, casting his eye upon the interior of the auction house for the first time.
The auctioneer.
Blank stood, frozen, as the man with the blonde hair turned casually on his heel. With a careless gesture, he thrust his sword deep into Rebecca's belly. Blank cried out in horror as Rebecca's eyes widened...as she spit up a little blood...as she crumpled to the floor...
The man turned, and smiled.
The auctioneer.
The blonde hair. The careless grin. Murderer. The aura, or non-aura, was so strong he could touch it.
YOU!
All heads turned, including that of the auctioneer's. Blank hadn't realized that he'd spoken aloud.
The auctioneer smiled. "I have forty-five thousand, from the man in the back! Forty-five thousand! Do I hear fifty-thousand?"
Blank tried to work his mouth. It refused to cooperate. Next, he tried using his legs, which also seemed to be on hiatus. He stood, mouth agape, staring at the man who had murdered his Rebecca.
Voices came, dimly. They all seemed to blend into one. FiftyfivethousanddoIhearsixtyyouhavetodobetterthanthatsixtyfivethousand
"Sold! To the man in the blue, for seventy-five thousand gil!" A smattering of applause. Blank, moving as if in a dream, started to walk forward.
His sword came into his hand. Nobles screaming, overturning chairs, rushing for exits. A few of the bolder ones drew decorative swords, shouted meaningless phrases about "honor" and "justice." None of them moved towards Blank. As he approached the podium, a Treno guard leveled his lance at him. Blank ran him through without a seconds thought, allowing his body to slide off his katana as he surged towards the auctioneer.
The auctioneer still wore that same smile. Butcher and murderer. Blank's sword whipped upwards, and he slashed downwards at the smile..
...and froze. His muscles strained against some invisible force as he stared into those blue eyes. The man leaned forward, and that dry whisper sounded in Blank's ear.
"...you should have left well enough alone, my little rat. Now.now I will teach you of pain. I will teach you of the pain of losing your soul. I will teach you the meaning of true suffering...Blank." The whisper itself sent echoes of pain resonating through Blank's head.
Blank struggled to form words. "Nothing...can...match...the pain...you've already...given me."
The auctioneer threw his head back, and laughed. The pain crescendoed in Blank's head, became a cacophony of suffering.
The man finally stopped. "Oh, we shall see, my little rat...we shall see..."
That's it. That's chapter three. Go on! Review it! Fine! Or don't review it! That's good too! Just leave me alone! Stop poking me!
Furthermore, I made up all these characters. That game you think you played that you think was called Final Fantasy 9 is just a figment of your imagination. I control what you think. Serve the Overmind! For Chairman Yang! .Anyway.
Seeing Beyond, Chap. 3
I am Blank.
Why did he leave me alive?
Why did he skewer my Rebecca, while I stood frozen in doubt and indecision?
Why did he let me go, knowing that I would have my revenge, or die trying?
Who was he?
Blank liked working on the airships. It was mindless, near-pointless work - tightening rivets, checking fault lines, polishing levers. La de da. But it helped him not to think.
When he thought, it got ugly. Blank preferred not to think. He preferred to tighten, wipe, polish. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
After the "non-incident" (If we all deny it, it won't be true!) Blank was thoroughly debriefed by Regent Cid himself. He'd sat in an empty room, facing an impersonal looking glass wall, behind which stood an impersonal looking Regent. They'd asked him a great many questions...about Alexandria, about the Extraction Chamber, and about the man. Blank answered them to the best of his ability. And then they asked him about Rebecca...
Scrub. Dry. He'd been dishonorably discharged from the Lindblum Armed Forces (He couldn't be kicked out of the Black Omega, because they didn't exist) and told never to show his face in the Grand Castle again. Blank had packed up his sword, his Disc, and his few belongings, and fled the city.
That was almost a year ago. Now, after bumming a few airship rides and a healthy amount of walking, he'd found himself in Treno. The City of Eternal Night, Sin City, the City of Nobles...Blank really didn't pay attention to all that. For him, it meant work - albeit degrading work. He'd found that he had a natural instinct for working on airships..it was just something he was good at.
Today, he was servicing a real looker - a sporty Eidolon-class luxury airship with a full retrofit job that left it even more disgustingly luxurious than it had been before. Its sole purpose, other than occasionally conveying some very silly people around, seemed to be to say "I'M RICHER THAN YOU! HAHAHAHAHAHA!" They were a dime a dozen in Treno. It was a place of sickening wealth.
Blank was going over the luxury quarters when he happened to notice something partially protruding from underneath a couch. He bent over and retrieved the item...which looked to be a very expensively-made leather wallet. He opened it up...and whistled at what he saw.
If he was reading the numbers right - and it looked like he was, the wallet was carrying something like 80,000 gil in cold hard cash. Blank, at one point in his life, had accumulated something along the lines of 2,350 gil. He'd never SEEN so much money in one place, let alone held it.
Now, Blank was faced with a quandary. He very much wanted to just walk away with that wallet in his pocket, or, alternatively, buy a modest airship and fly away with it. He VERY much wanted to do that. The problem was, he was known to be the only person servicing that airship, and it'd be pretty easy for the local authorities to put two and two together. Once that happened, these Treno nobles were VERY good at getting their man captured. When you've got nearly infinite financial resources at your time - it's not too hard to light a fire under the cops' bellies.
Blank stood, wracked with indecision. Finally, his love for his freedom won out, he pocketed the wallet, and went to consult his supervisor.
His supervisor was an overweight, follicly-challenged man named Bartle - who'd lived in Treno his whole life and was extremely angry that it hadn't made him rich. He took out his anger on all his subordinates...so Blank wasn't too fond of him. His aura was a mixture of reds and oranges. Nevertheless, he knocked respectively on the door, got an irritated "Come in!" from the other side, and entered.
Bartle looked up as he closed the door behind him, and the supervisor's face contorted in an expression of severe disgust. "Whaddya want, Blank?"
Blank stood at ease. "I found a wallet on the "Blue Gecko" that's got quite a lot of money in it. I think it belongs to one of the nobles."
Bartle considered, before finally holding out a hand. "Give it here. Lemme take a look."
Blank handed over the wallet, and crossed his arms behind him. Bartle flipped open the wallet, took a look at its contents...and his mouth fell open.
"Th-th-this is.is.eighty-thousand!" he gasped, his eyes sucking in the currency greedily. "M-m-man!"
Blank nodded, evenly. "Yessir, it is. I think we should return it to its owner."
Bartle finally tore his eyes away from the wallet, looking back up to Blank. It was obvious he was having the same kind of problem Blank had been having - not a moral problem, but one of simple common sense. Finally, he nodded, reluctantly.
"Yeah...yeah, of course you're right," he said, the words sounding as if they were being forced out of him. "Here. You take it. Belongs to a Lord Dandulan...I bet you'll find him at the auction house. And I'll also bet he hasn't made any bids yet."
Blank nodded, reclaiming the wallet. "Yessir." He beat it.
Blank stood before the great double doors of the auction house, admiring the architecture. He'd never actually been inside, before - the cheapest item probably cost double his life savings. A smoothly-dressed attendant walked up, eyed his eyedisc and ragged clothing, and adjusted his attitude accordingly.
"Whatcha want, boy?" as opposed to "Can I help you, sir?"
Blank made a little half-bow, appropriate for the street scum that he was. "Excuse me, sir, but I have Lord Dandalun's wallet. I heard he was in here..."
The attendant narrowed his eyes to slits at him, but finally nodded, and jerked a finger behind him. "Eighth row, dressed in the blue outfit. Make it snappy, stay low, and for Crystal's sake don't draw any attention to yourself."
Blank nodded, and quietly slipped in through the little side entrance. He maneuvered through the corridor and emerged in the back of the auction commons, casting his eye upon the interior of the auction house for the first time.
The auctioneer.
Blank stood, frozen, as the man with the blonde hair turned casually on his heel. With a careless gesture, he thrust his sword deep into Rebecca's belly. Blank cried out in horror as Rebecca's eyes widened...as she spit up a little blood...as she crumpled to the floor...
The man turned, and smiled.
The auctioneer.
The blonde hair. The careless grin. Murderer. The aura, or non-aura, was so strong he could touch it.
YOU!
All heads turned, including that of the auctioneer's. Blank hadn't realized that he'd spoken aloud.
The auctioneer smiled. "I have forty-five thousand, from the man in the back! Forty-five thousand! Do I hear fifty-thousand?"
Blank tried to work his mouth. It refused to cooperate. Next, he tried using his legs, which also seemed to be on hiatus. He stood, mouth agape, staring at the man who had murdered his Rebecca.
Voices came, dimly. They all seemed to blend into one. FiftyfivethousanddoIhearsixtyyouhavetodobetterthanthatsixtyfivethousand
"Sold! To the man in the blue, for seventy-five thousand gil!" A smattering of applause. Blank, moving as if in a dream, started to walk forward.
His sword came into his hand. Nobles screaming, overturning chairs, rushing for exits. A few of the bolder ones drew decorative swords, shouted meaningless phrases about "honor" and "justice." None of them moved towards Blank. As he approached the podium, a Treno guard leveled his lance at him. Blank ran him through without a seconds thought, allowing his body to slide off his katana as he surged towards the auctioneer.
The auctioneer still wore that same smile. Butcher and murderer. Blank's sword whipped upwards, and he slashed downwards at the smile..
...and froze. His muscles strained against some invisible force as he stared into those blue eyes. The man leaned forward, and that dry whisper sounded in Blank's ear.
"...you should have left well enough alone, my little rat. Now.now I will teach you of pain. I will teach you of the pain of losing your soul. I will teach you the meaning of true suffering...Blank." The whisper itself sent echoes of pain resonating through Blank's head.
Blank struggled to form words. "Nothing...can...match...the pain...you've already...given me."
The auctioneer threw his head back, and laughed. The pain crescendoed in Blank's head, became a cacophony of suffering.
The man finally stopped. "Oh, we shall see, my little rat...we shall see..."
That's it. That's chapter three. Go on! Review it! Fine! Or don't review it! That's good too! Just leave me alone! Stop poking me!