A/N: Be kind! I didn't mean to offend anyone, if I did! BTW, this prologue takes place one year after the game, and the next chapter and after will take place four years after the game.
The Daily Herald lay virtually untouched, sitting on the corner of the cluttered mahogany desk. He didn't need to read the morning paper to know what they had done to her--he was told be the coroner just hours before. He just sat slumped in his chair, attempting to make himself not breathe.
He found that if he closed his eyes, he could still see her--those warm amber brown eyes, the innocent smile. "Rin..." He whispered to himself softly, his voice shaking greatly.
The brisk knock on the door was answered with a bitter silence. "Squall?..." It was Irvine Kinneas, one of his best friends. Squall still sat at his desk, his head buried in-between the leather jacket arms. There was a moment of hesitation from Irvine before he persisted. "Squall?...Please, C'mon out--Or open the door. You can't isolate yourself."
Somehow Squall found his voice, "Whatever..Ju-just...Leave me the hell a-alone.." Squall managed with a dead tone.
"Squall, I can't do that. Just let me in. Ooor, I can kick your door into tiny, eeny weeny splinters for you to pick up after I stick each one of them in you."
Squall sat motionless for a few minutes, contemplating his options. The splinters didn't seem so bad at this point. As he closed his eyes again, there was a click of the door, and a determined looking Irvine with a file in his hand, staring at him. When Irvines' eyes met with the troubled hazel of Squalls', his expression softened. "Ah Hyne. You look like hell, kid."
*IN BALAMB*
Zell Dincht enjoyed his days off from his job. He usually went into Balamb and stayed with his mom. As he went downstairs that one Saturday, he didn't know that there would be a revelation that would rock the world as he knew it.
"M-Morning Ma." Zell said, failing to supress a yawn. He walked up to his mom and caught her stony gaze. "What's the matt....." He didn't need to finish his question--he caught and followed his moms' gaze to the morning's paper. As he read it, he didn't think it set into his head. It couldn't be true, but then why was he reading it? His stomach turned and his insides froze as he scanned the article.
CARAWAY ASKS THAT IN LIEU OF FLOWERS, PLEASE DONATE MONEY TO THE RINOA HEARTILLY TRUST FUND. WE AT THE HERALD ASK FOR YOU TO PLEASE PRAY FOR THE VICTIMS, THE SECURITY OF THE THOSE YOU LOVE, AND THE QUICK CAPTURES OF THESE SICK PERVERTED PSYCHOPATHS. GOD BLESS. IF YOU HAVE ANY INFORMATION WHAT SO EVER THAT WILL HELP THE POLICE FIND THESE HORRIBLE KILLERS, PLEASE CALL D.C.P.D.
Zell sighed and wrapped his mom in a tight embrace. He kissed the top of her head and whispered numbly. "I have to go, Squall needs me." Ma Dincht nodded and patted his arm.
"Please be careful." She called to his retreating back.
*********
Nearing fifty, Kay Pwerson was the best in the business. She had endured many years of school and hardwork to be the best of the best. Although there didn't come much glory in her job, she was proud of what she did-- she was a coroner. She alone was like a translater to the victims, telling the world what had been done to them and who had caused them such pain. On this weary Sunday, her primary concern was a body that came in last night. The girl looked like she had been so vibrant, so alive...until some sick group of freaks decided she would be a great sacrifice. Rinoa Heartilly was her name, the daughter of the famous Julia Heartilly and General Caraway. She slipped on a new pair of latex gloves and prepared to go over Rinoa's body again and make sure she hadn't missed any fibers or trace evidence.
She had nearly finished th PERK (Physical Evidence Residue Kit) when she noticed a short strand of flaxen blonde hair clinging to the underside of Rinoa's nail. She grabbed a pair of tweezers, carefully extracted the strand, and placed it in a labeled plastic evidence bag. "Too damn bad we can't put the DNA in a computer and get back a name.." She paused, and pulled the thin cloth sheet up to the young girl's chin. "Poor thing...I honestly don't know what this world is coming to." She said sadly as she packed up the evidence for the Deling City Police.
***************
It was an entire week after her funeral (Two weeks after she was killed.) before Squall went back to work. As he walked through the familiar corridors, it seemed as if everything reminded him of her-- something he smelled, saw or heard-- sent himself scrambling to hold back the tears. As he passed through the corridors, he was greeted abundantly by students, collegues and friends alike.
"Morning, sir."
"Good to see you."
"Welcome back Commander."
Squall heard the comments, but didn't quite process them-- he was still in a seemingly perpetual daze. His hair was wild and uncombed, hanging in his face, his eyes darting around when not staring at the ground. He knew he looked like a wreck, he hadn't shaved, and he hadn't been eating or sleeping well since she had died. Wow, what a fucking fairytale ending I recieved.. he thought bitterly as he rode the elevator to his third-floor office. After the elevator ascended to it's proper place, the door rolled open to reveal an absorbed Quistis typing away at the computer like there was no tomorrow. He willed one foot in front of the other straight towards his office as Quistis called to him quietly, "....Good Morning, Sir." She did not allow her eyes to stray from the computer screen--she was almost afraid to look at the poor soul. Her fingers flew across the keyboard.
"Messages?" He quipped gruffly as he paused in front of his door.
Quistis looked surprised and took a moment to reply, "Sir, Lt. Cagney called. He said it was urgent and to please get in touch with him asap."
Squall shrugged and then proceeded to lock himself in his office.
The phone felt cold in his sweaty palm as he dialed the Lt.'s number. After the second ring, a harsh voice answered the phone. "Cagney."
Squall cleared his throat uneasily, not sure if he would be able to talk. "Commander Leonhart here...From Garden. You called earlier?"
"Yeah. Look...I know you're havin' a tough time, but we have another body here in Esthar. Somethin' fishy as hell is goin' down. We don't have enough manpower or enough of a clue...We here at the district was wondering if we could hire you guys for some undercover work."
Silence.
"Yo, Leonhart, still alive?"
"..What?..Yeah.. I'm here...Just contemplating the situation. How much are you willing to pay?"
"Let's negotiate the terms at Dehli's Bar in F.H...How about four-ish?"
"Sounds good, as long as you pay."
There was a chuckle, "Yeah yeah Com. What am I? Your bitch?"
For the first time in days, Squall smiled...a little. "For a cheap price, why not?"
There was a timid knock on door, "Squall?"
"Come in Quistis."
The petite blonde slid in through the door with a large stack of print-outs towering from her arms. She sat down clumsily and carefully put the large stack on Squall's desk. She slid on her glasses, nervously pushing them up with an index finger as she picked up the first of the financial summaries and looked down in a nervous reflex. "Umm.."
"Go on..Just tell me how bad it is..Get it the hell over with already."
Quistis cleared her throat uneasily, "Well...We are starting to feel the pinch for money Squall. There haven't been many mission requests, and there are more SeeDs than I think we can handle." Squall wrung his hands.
"Damn it." He whispered. He politely asked Quistis to leave, and when he heard the click of the door, he cursed to himself, "Now I can't refuse this mission..We need it.. I can't let anymore people down."