A/N: I changed the name of the crime organization to Disturbance, still known as D for short. Just a spur of the moment decision. And thanks guys for the reviews, they're a real motivation. ^_^
Disclaimer: Square owns ff8 and its characters. I don't. Simple enough to understand.
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Chapter 4: Passing Notes
The hotel restaurant was a pretty casual place. There were a few people eating, but for the most part it was empty. Quistis, Zell, and Irvine were seated at a small square table with a chair at each of the four sides.
"This is nice," Quistis commented.
"Yeah, like I said, its nothing fancy, but I've heard the food's good," Irvine replied.
"Do they have hot dogs?" Zell asked eagerly.
"How should I know? This the first time I've eaten here," Irvine replied, "Look at the menu and see." He tossed one of the menus over to him.
"I called Selphie a little while ago, she's going to try to get in contact with Raijin and Fujin for us," Quistis said, glancing over her menu.
"Do you think they'll know anything?" Zell asked as he scanned the menu for his favorite meal.
"It's always worth a try. If he isn't involved, they'll tell us. If he is, then…well," Quistis shrugged.
"Did Selphie say anything else?" Irvine asked. He leaned back to move out of the way of a waiter, who was in the process of filling their glasses with ice water.
Quistis raised a brow, "No, not really. She's going out to dinner with Squall and Rinoa but that's about it. Why?"
"Dunno… just wondering," The menu suddenly became immensely interesting to the gunslinger. His eyes were locked on the laminated sheet, avoiding Quistis' questioning gaze.
Quistis smiled. She prided herself on figuring out people and the way their minds work. Irvine's mind was pretty easy, compared to Squall, but not as easy as Zell who basically wore his thoughts and emotions on his sleeve. You could almost always tell what Zell was feeling or thinking about.
"Ah HA, there's the hot dogs!" Zell said suddenly, pointing to a lower part on the menu.
Point made, Quistis thought.
The waiter came and took their orders. Quistis decided to have the shrimp scampi, Irvine ordered a steak, and Zell ordered several hot dogs. "So what's the plan for tomorrow?" Zell asked, handing his menu to the waiter.
"Why don't we look around the city? There's bound to be someone who knows something. That okay with you guys?" Irvine suggested.
Quistis nodded, "Its fine with me."
"Ditto," Zell replied.
"If we head out around 8 tomorrow morning, we should be able to cover a large portion of the city," she figured, taking a sip of water.
"Alright, so we'll meet in the lobby at 8 then," Irvine replied.
"Woo yeah! These guys are fast!" Zell grinned as the waiter brought out their food.
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Quistis jerked awake to the sound of the phone ringing. She sat up and looked at the clock. 9:15?!? Oh Hyne! She shook her head and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"
"Hi Quisty!" Selphie replied merrily from the other end. "You okay? You don't sound so good."
"I'm fine, just a little drowsy. Did you talk to Fujin and Raijin?"
"Nope. I couldn't get in touch with them. It's really strange. I called several times, but nobody picked up. No answering machine either."
"Hmm, well thanks anyways."
"No problem. I'll see you when you get back!"
"Bye Selphie." She placed the receiver back down.
Quistis' attention shifted to a piece of paper lying on the ground near the door. She got up from her bed and picked it up.
Quistis-
Hey, we figured you either got a head start or you're still sleeping so we decided to go on our own. We'll be back later. Don't get into too much trouble without us!
-Irvine & Zell
"Ugh great." She put the note on her dresser and got dressed.
Better look for a place to start… She picked up one of the packets of papers they borrowed from the police. There had to be something in there she could use. She sat on her bed and turned the television on, placing the papers next to her. On the screen, a weather reporter was giving the weekly forecast. Quistis thumbed through the pages until she found a page that looked promising. Eyewitness Reports…Bingo.
"Our top story this morning is from the Esthar police force," an anchorwoman said from behind her news desk, "There was a break in at the central station around 11 last night."
Quistis looked up from the paper. This was certainly unexpected. The central station had one of the best security systems in the world, next to the Esthar Presidential Palace. She remembered seeing cameras and id scanners everywhere in the halls when they were there the day before.
"The culprit or culprits got into the evidence floor and messed things up pretty badly. Gonna take forever to get everything back in order," an officer explained as the camera panned one of the evidence rooms. Drawers were sticking out all over the place. Doors to cabinets were thrown open. Tables were turned over and paper littered the floor. That was the room we were in yesterday. She stared intently at the screen.
The screen switched back to the anchorwoman, "Police have no leads yet as to whom could've done this. Security cameras in the room and surrounding halls didn't pick up anything on the person/persons." They played a short clip of the security video. In the room, things were falling over and cabinets were opening, but there wasn't any sign of anyone being in the room.
"In other news-" Quistis shut the television off.
How weird. I need to tell Zell and Irvine about this tonight.
She looked back at the paper lying in her lap. Among the names on the list, four of them were listed as eyewitnesses for the explosion that took out D's headquarters. Quistis reached for a notepad from her nightstand and a pen and scribbled the names and addresses down.. She put the address paper into her pocket and, after making sure she had her whip, headed out to find a lead.
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Quistis knocked hesitantly on the door of the fourth person on her list. Her luck hadn't been very good today. The first witness wasn't home, the second refused to talk to her, and all the third person saw was the fire. He had apparently just gotten there a minute or so before the police had. A small red-haired woman in her late twenties opened the door to the apartment, "Yes?"
"Miss Stantle?"
The woman nodded, "How can I help you?"
Quistis smiled politely, "My name is Quistis Trepe, I'm from Balamb Garden SeeD. If you don't mind, could I ask you a few questions on the explosion you saw a couple weeks ago?"
Miss Stantle examined Quistis' face for a second before stepping to the side, "Come on in."
Quistis stepped into the apartment. It was small, but had a homey atmosphere. Miss Stantle offered her a seat and a cup of coffee in the kitchenette.
"That would be wonderful, thanks."
She placed a mug on the table in front of Quistis and sat down across from her. "So what do you need to know?"
"Well, could you tell me what you saw happen?"
"Well, my boyfriend, Nathan, and I were walking back to his place after dinner, it's several blocks down from the building that exploded you see. When we got near the building, we heard a loud blast and saw fire shoot out from the windows. He ran to a pay phone and called the police and I hurried over to see what had happened."
"Did you see anyone come out of the building?"
She nodded, "A lot of people actually, around nine."
"Can you describe any of them?"
"Well I can't remember much about the others, but one man sticks out in my memory. He was really muscular and had dark hair and a dark complexion. Talked weird too. He was yelling something like, 'Hurry up. They'll be coming down any second now, ya know!' and then he ran back into the building."
Quistis tilted her head, She has to be talking about Raijin. I wonder if he's involved with whatever Seifer was doing. "Miss Stantle, did you happen to see a tall man with blonde hair come out of the building?"
"Blonde hair?"
"Yes, and a scar across the bridge of his nose."
She shook her head, "No, I can't remember anyone like that who was there."
"Well, thank you very much for the coffee and for your help, I should get going," Quistis stood up and placed her coffee cup in the sink.
"No problem, you're a lot more polite than those reporters that were hanging around a week or so ago. Come back if you have any more questions."
Quistis nodded and said goodbye to the woman. She walked out of the apartment building and onto a small street. It was almost 6 and getting dark quickly, so Quistis took one of the lifts that ran through the city back to the hotel.
When she arrived, she went to Zell and Irvine's room first. She knocked on their door, but there was no reply. Quistis figured that they were still looking for leads, or the more likely assumption, they were lost. She shrugged and went to her own room.
Quistis tossed her whip on the bed where the evidence was piled and picked up the phone. After dealing with an incompetent person from the front desk, she finally got through to room service.
"Hi, yes, I'd like a salad and iced tea please."
"Okay, we're very busy tonight however so it'll be around an hour."
Quistis rolled her eyes. How long would it take to make a salad? "Okay, thanks." She hung up the phone.
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There was a knock on her hotel room door an hour and a half later. "Room Service," the person called. Quistis hurried to the door. Finally.
She opened the door and took the tray from the man standing outside, placing it on the dresser. "Just a moment," she said while she looked for her purse. The food was late but she would feel guilty if she didn't tip the guy. She gave him some gil and closed the door.
She brought her food over to a small table where the rest of the police reports were piled. Before her food came, she had been looking through them, writing down anything she felt was useful on a notepad. She glanced over the red-inked notes. I can see why they're having so much trouble with this case. These reports aren't exactly detail-oriented.
She popped the lid off the container her salad was in, quickly closing it back up in disgust. The lettuce was brown and the dressing smelt horrible. Ugh, they must really be having an off-day, the food last night was so much more appetizing. She pushed the tray away from her.
-click- A loud car dealership commercial suddenly blared from the television. Quistis jumped. The sudden break in the silence of the room had surprised her. She grabbed the remote from the bed behind her, turning it off. Weird. She returned her attention to the police report she was reading.
A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened before quickly slamming shut again. The same thing happened soon after with the closet door. Several music boxes tumbled to the ground, causing one of them to open. She got up from her chair and picked the music boxes up, shutting the one that was playing. What's going on?
She gasped as she turned back to her table. The notepad she had been writing on was at the opposite end of the table, near where her disgusting salad rested. The pen was moving on its own, writing something on the paper below where she had written her notes.
Quistis sat down at the table and pulled the notepad towards. 'Where is it?' was written in thin, rushed letters. The handwriting was familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. She bit her lower lip nervously. There was someone somewhere in there with her.
"Who are you?" Quistis asked quietly, looking around the room.
The notepad slid back across the table. The pen wrote another message on it before it was shoved back towards her. 'Guess.'
"No, I'm not in the mood to guess. Tell me who you are and what you want," she said, desperately trying to keep her voice from wavering. She was a high ranking SeeD, she should be able to deal with this. But Garden never taught us how to locate an invisible foe, Quistis thought. She glanced out of the corner of her eye, trying to find the location her Save the Queen just in case her 'visitor' was hostile.
The notepad floated over to the other side of the table, almost like someone was carrying it. It was placed on the tabletop with a thwap. The pen quickly scribbled something on the paper before the sheet was torn off and tossed at Quistis. She caught it and looked where the pen had been writing. 'Need a hint?' Below the writing, the pen had sketched a crude drawing of a very familiar red cross.
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