Peter sat silently on the brick. It hurt, but he dared not complain. There wasn't a seat around to sit on anyway. No, the house was bare. Him and this "Magister" figure were in Edea's house, restored slightly and expanded; now housing the resistance against Alex Reist and his empire. However, furniture wasn't a top priority, and a series of cinderblocks and planks accomplished the purpose.
Magister was speaking now, about Peter's training, and the steps that must be followed. Peter was pretty upset with the whole deal. As far as he was concerned, he was set to go.
But, Magister insisted, and Peter decided it was for the best anyway. He snapped out of his longing for a chair, and managed to catch the last part of Magister's little intro, "…conditioning."
Magister nodded towards Peter, and if Peter could see his face under the cloak, he would have seen a wide grin. Peter simply smiled and nodded like an idiot.
***
"COME ON! KEEP UP THE PACE!"
Peter gasped in a breath as he used whatever energy he had left lifting his legs and moving them forward. This was unexpected. He tried desperately to remember how long he had been running, but it was far out of his reach. It must have been about sixteen kilometers so far. His breath was short, and his legs felt like lead weights, but that freak Magister was still going.
With another pant and a desperate gasp for air, Peter dragged up his legs again, leaping over a fallen tree. They were running in the woods, which made things that much more complicated. And according to Magister, this was only the light jog.
Every part of his body felt like it was on fire. He had never worked this hard in his life- and he prayed he never would again.
Finally, a few hundred yards later, Magister stopped and turned around. Peter would have grinned if he could, but instead threw his hands to his knees and bent over, desperately gasping for air. After a bit of this, he just collapsed on the ground. Magister hovered over him, shaking his cloaked head.
That was the other thing that really struck Peter. The guy ran in a cloak, and still was perfectly fine.
Magister sighed a bit, "If you get tired after a sixteen k run, you're never going to win when it comes down to you and Reist."
Normally, Peter would have something to say in return, but he was too busy trying to breath. Suddenly, Magister yanked him up off the ground, "C'mon, we've gotta run back now."
***
Later that night, Peter was sitting alone in one of the center's smaller rooms, huddled in the corner with a roll of bread and water, occasionally tearing off a piece of the bread and scarfing it down. He was in that position when Lance Derikson stepped into the room.
Peter hadn't seen Lance since they were on Galbadia Garden when Balamb was destroyed. He grinned wildly at the sight of his old friend and ran up, embracing him.
"How's it going, Lance?"
Lance allowed a small grin, "It's alright. Better now that you're here."
Peter laughed, "What?"
"You're a morale booster. Most of these guys fighting were Garden students under your father. It's a great boost to have you around."
Peter nodded, "Yeah, well… don't get your hopes up about me."
Lance looked at the small meal, "You know, we DO have actual food here."
Peter smiled, "Yeah, but I don't know how much I can take after today."
"What? The sixteen-kilometer run? C'mon man, that's nothing!"
Peter coughed, "It was thirty-two kilometers."
"Okay, so… double nothing."
"Maybe to you."
Lance smiled, "You'll get used to it. You'll have to."
***
"This next exercise will test your accuracy with a gun."
Peter stifled a laugh, "I'm one of the best, remember?"
Magister gave a nod, still in the cloak, but then moved toward Peter and held out a gun. A simple pistol, but attached was a nine-kilogram weight. Peter frowned, "What's with the weight?"
"Your gun is going to be a gunblade, the dynamics of firing are entirely different. A whole new form of muscle control is required."
Magister handed it to him, and Peter gripped it, his arm dropping slightly from the weight. Magister gave a laugh, "Not as easy as it seems, eh?"
Peter grimaced and held up the weapon, supporting it with both hands. Magister interrupted, "You're going to need to learn how to do that with one hand."
Peter nodded, and dropped the left hand, struggling to hold it with the right.
"Peter, if you want, we can do some weight lifting first, if the nine kilograms is giving you trouble…"
Peter made a face, aimed at the paper target about one hundred yards off, and fired. He lowered the gun as Magister raised up the binoculars and took a look out.
"Well," Magister began, "I'm sure you were a great shot."
Peter frowned.
"But," Magister continued, "there isn't a single bullet hole there."
Peter cursed and lifted the gun again, firing off a second, third and fourth shot.
"Oh wait. I think the third one grazed the target."
There was a pause.
"Nope, it didn't."
***
"This next drill will test your swordplay abilities. Think you're up to it, kid?"
Peter grunted, "Quit calling me 'kid' old man."
Magister laughed, "I'll quit calling you a kid when you become a man." With that, he tossed a small fencing saber to Peter, who caught the handle in his right hand. Magister smiled and pulled another saber from the rack on the wall.
Peter swung the blade a few times, getting a feel for the weapon. Magister stepped towards him.
"There are three rings of defense, Peter. The first, or the outer ring, consists of the upper right, the upper left, the lower right and the lower left. The second, or the middle ring, consists of the high, the low, the left and the right, and when you're within the inner ring, you should keep close and parry. Understood?"
Peter sighed and nodded.
"Okay, attack me."
Peter shrugged and lifted the blade above his head, swinging downwards. Magister effortlessly paralleled the blade to the ground and deflected, sending Peter backwards.
"Middle ring. High. Try again."
Peter twisted around slashing the blade from right to left at Magister's gut. Magister twisted his arms and held the blade perpendicular to the ground, once again blocking the assault.
"Middle ring. Left. C'mon!"
Peter smiled, "Enough of this defense crap, can't we actually DO something?"
Magister laughed again, "If you desire. On your guard!"
Peter lifted the blade and charged, swinging the blade upwards towards Magister's left elbow. Magister leaped backwards and slashed down at the blade, reversing Peter's assault towards the ground. With Peter off of his guard, Magister elbowed the younger man in the face, knocking Animus to the ground. In the last deft movement, he bought the dull blade to Peter's neck.
"Offensives are better when they are successful. And a successful offense requires a working knowledge of defense at the least." With that, Magister turned and walked towards the wall, placing the blade back.
Peter was left catching his breath.
***
Lance Derikson couldn't help it. He laughed.
"You're still eating like that, kid?"
Peter looked up from his bread, "Kid?"
"Yeah, that's your nickname 'round here. In case you haven't noticed."
"Magister…"
"Yep. Magister. He insists." Lance sat next to Peter on the cold floor, "I don't know why you're doing this to yourself."
"I'm training. I have to train." There was an easily traceable sarcasm in Peter's voice.
Lance mulled over it for a second, "It'll make you better kid."
"Maybe it will."
"No. It will. You just have to be determined."
"Determined? To go after the guy who stole everything from me? That's not so hard, believe me."
Lance grinned smugly, "Not that. You have to be determined to be ready to go after him."
With that, Lance unceremoniously exited, leaving Peter with only his thoughts.
***
"Come on now! Last kilometer! You can handle it."
He could. Peter had to resist laughing. He actually could handle it. It had taken a long time, but he could finally handle the damned run. As the last stretch came to a close, and Edea's house became visible, Peter slowed down, bending down and placing his hands on his knees. He laughed.
Magister looked down at him, "You did it. I told you it wasn't that hard."
Peter raised his head up, "That was… freaking… easy."
Then he threw up. Magister laughed now.
***
"Confirmed hit."
Peter grinned and fired off the next shot.
"Another hit."
He fired the gun several more times, reloading once. Magister wasn't watching anymore, but watching Peter with interest.
"I think you've got the hang of it now."
Peter grinned, "Don't you want to look at the target again?"
Magister turned and looked through the binoculars. The target was riddled with bullet holes… spelling a large 'HI!'
"Yeah… you've got the hang of it."
***
Duck!
Peter ducked under as the dull blade flew above his head. He retaliated against Magister with his own assault, swinging from Magister's left side. Magister leaped backwards, narrowly avoiding the attack. Peter had him. Magister was overextended now. He pressed the attack, strafing to his left and staying low as he changed the momentum back and swung the blade in the reverse direction, from Magister's left now. Magister managed to retaliate with a quick perpendicular block, then pushed the blade forward, coming towards Peter's face. Peter snapped his neck back, barely dodging the swing, but knocking himself off balance. He fell to the ground with a thud, and the blade met his throat swiftly.
"You lose, again, Peter. But you put up a fight. You can handle it now."
Peter sighed, "I'll beat you someday."
"You're not the first person to say that to me."
"What happened to the others?"
"They're somewhere six feet beneath the ground. You're ready, though, to make your gunblade. I hope you've got a design planned?"
"Yeah. But can't we get to it already?"
"You've still got a little more left."
***
He still had the nightmares.
It's been a month since I… woke up, or whatever, and they've come to me every night since then. Damn it Peter, get a grip on yourself.
Peter shuffled around in bed. He refused to let himself sleep. He knew what came when he did. However, the mistress of rest held her grip, and Peter collapsed into a world of horror.
***
He was alone, standing in the middle of Balamb. The town was silent, not even the seagulls flew overhead. It was just him. He felt his rifle in his hands, and craned his neck to look around him. Just the still town. Then he turned, and there he was.
Alex Reist, standing fully erect at Peter's height, and staring. Just staring.
Then the crowds. There was no slow introduction. Suddenly, the streets around them were filled with screaming people, running from an unseen terror, and Balamb Garden flew high above them.
And it was on. Peter raised the gun to fire, but he couldn't pull the trigger. Reist continued to stare. And grow. Within seconds, Reist's head was well above Garden, a massive giant threatening to destroy all.
And he did. Alex grabbed Balamb Garden, and crushed it like a tin can, throwing the entire ship into the ocean.
Peter pummeled at Alex's foot with his bare hands, but Alex didn't notice, he merely walked out of Balamb in a single step, Peter hanging on. Then, time froze again. The sounds of the panicked crowd halted. Alex grinned, then lifted his arms. And in a flash, Balamb disappeared in a tremendous display of light.
Peter could only watch in horror as the light rushed towards him, and engulfed him.
***
Peter Animus jolted upright and buried his face in his hands, tears falling from his eyes. He allowed himself to rock back and forth for a few moments, no one around him waking up. After a few moments, he released his head; his eyes still closed, and took in a deep breath.
"You should forgive yourself."
Peter jumped, "Who's there?"
He caught some movement out of the corner of his eye. The figure spoke softly, "You know."
Peter sighed, "Magister."
"Yes."
"Forgive myself?"
"It wasn't your fault."
"You know something, I'll blame myself if I damn well want to."
"You did what you could."
"With no due respect, you weren't there."
"No. I was."
"Prove it."
"We should have this conversation outside."
"Why? You trying to avoid it?"
"I'm trying to avoid waking everyone."
Peter sighed, got a pair of pants on, and walked outside, Magister following.
***
"Okay old man, I've got some problems to settle with you."
"Old man? You don't even know how old I am."
"That would be one of the problems. What the hell is wrong with you that you can't show your face?"
Magister turned away, "I have my reasons."
"Reasons? Fuck, man."
"You know something, kid? I'm sick of your attitude. I'm trying to get you your revenge, and you give me this impatient shit."
"Oh, go to hell. You can't even tell me who you are! And you are giving me a revenge shot? Bullshit, we've been training for a month now!"
"You'd rather die? I'm giving you a shot for success!"
"Then let's fucking take it! Every minute we waste is another minute Alex gets stronger!"
Magister took a few steps away.
"And you know, it, don't you, Magister? You know that we're wasting time."
"We're not wasting time. You think I want us to lose again? I saw the destruction at Balamb, up-close. I don't want to fail again. We'll take our shot when we've got a shot at success."
"Up-close? From where? Some boat on the water? I was there."
"So was I!"
"Then why can't you show your face? We'd love another veteran here, but no, you hide yourself! Fuck man. Friend of my father, you said? My father wouldn't have befriended a coward!"
"Your father…"
"What do you know about my father?"
"A lot more than you!"
Peter had to hold himself back, "Fuck you! How dare you say that! What gives you the right?"
There was a long pause.
"I have the right. Because I…" Magister trailed off.
Peter turned and sighed, "Fuck you. My father would hate for me to waste time like this. Not after what happened to mom. I'm leaving now."
"Your father knows what he is doing!"
Peter halted in his tracks, turning to Magister, "What?"
The cloaked figure turned back to Peter, "I mean… I know what I'm doing."
Then it hit Peter like a freight train, "No…"
Peter watched as Magister removed the hood of the cloak, revealing the face of Miles Animus, scarred and somewhat burnt, but the same man.
"It's me, Peter."
***
It took about five minutes before any words were spoken. Finally, Peter managed to sputter out a comprehensible sentence.
"Dad, is that… really you?"
"Yeah. It's me."
Peter fell to his knees, tears flowing from his eyes out of joy. Miles stepped over and bent down alongside his son, embracing the younger man.
"Dad, I…"
"I know, Peter."
They remained in the embrace for a few moments, and finally Peter pulled out of his father's grip, and threw a wild punch into Miles' shoulder.
"You bastard!"
Miles merely remained still.
"All this time? You've been hiding who you are? Why?"
"I couldn't reveal myself to you or the others. I was much more useful in death than in life. And I couldn't ruin your training by making it personal."
Peter sighed, "How?"
Miles stood up and put his arm around his son, "Let's go inside, it's freezing out here."
***
"To this day, I'm not quite sure how I made it out. Neos and I backed into an elevator, away from the bomber, while Veronica remained, trying to negotiate. The elevator was moving downwards when the bomb went off.
"There was the explosion, the alarms, and the elevator was shaking. The cord snapped, and the thing plummeted, it crashed down onto the MD level. Somehow, we survived. Neos was trying to yell something, but I had this ringing in my ears. I looked one way. When I turned back, he was gone, and I was alone in the dark. I took a step forward, and there was another explosion, I suppose it was about fifty yards ahead of me. Anyway, something flew at my head, and I blacked out.
"When I came to, I was alone in the wreckage of Garden. I snuck out, grabbed a disguise, and wound up joining in with a group of other SeeDs. Before I could reveal who I was, they started discussing 'the great Miles Animus' and how they would fight a war to avenge his death, and the death of his wife." Miles paused, "So, I stuck with it, saying I was a friend of Miles' taking a visit at the time.
"I quickly became a form of legend. A man with the talents of Miles, and a friend, one of the best of the best, and I began to train. I let Lance handle the leadership stuff though. He always was a better speaker." Miles laughed.
Peter nodded, "So what do we really know?" Miles raised an eyebrow, and Peter sighed, "Dad, I'm not stupid. Obviously, there's another reason to keep yourself secret."
"I knew you'd start asking questions."
"Why would that be a bad thing?"
"I know a few things that you shouldn't know."
"Like what?"
Miles sighed. There was no hiding it now. "Neos and Julia are still alive. They're being held in the old D-District Prison, along with a few others."
Peter jumped, "Then what are we doing here? We've gotta go get 'em!"
"This is why you couldn't have known."
"What?"
"You're not done yet."
"Not done? Damn it! I've passed all of your goddamn tests!"
"You still have one thing left to do."
"What's that?"
"You're a gunblade expert, sure. But you don't have a gunblade."
"You're shitting me, right?"
Miles smiled, "Yeah. We can build one later. Meanwhile, let's go kick some ass."
"Hey, wait a minute. What about you?"
"Me?"
"Where's your weapon?"
"Oh, I've rebuilt the Dual Hyperion." Peter smiled. "Tonight though, we sleep. We move tomorrow."
Magister was speaking now, about Peter's training, and the steps that must be followed. Peter was pretty upset with the whole deal. As far as he was concerned, he was set to go.
But, Magister insisted, and Peter decided it was for the best anyway. He snapped out of his longing for a chair, and managed to catch the last part of Magister's little intro, "…conditioning."
Magister nodded towards Peter, and if Peter could see his face under the cloak, he would have seen a wide grin. Peter simply smiled and nodded like an idiot.
***
"COME ON! KEEP UP THE PACE!"
Peter gasped in a breath as he used whatever energy he had left lifting his legs and moving them forward. This was unexpected. He tried desperately to remember how long he had been running, but it was far out of his reach. It must have been about sixteen kilometers so far. His breath was short, and his legs felt like lead weights, but that freak Magister was still going.
With another pant and a desperate gasp for air, Peter dragged up his legs again, leaping over a fallen tree. They were running in the woods, which made things that much more complicated. And according to Magister, this was only the light jog.
Every part of his body felt like it was on fire. He had never worked this hard in his life- and he prayed he never would again.
Finally, a few hundred yards later, Magister stopped and turned around. Peter would have grinned if he could, but instead threw his hands to his knees and bent over, desperately gasping for air. After a bit of this, he just collapsed on the ground. Magister hovered over him, shaking his cloaked head.
That was the other thing that really struck Peter. The guy ran in a cloak, and still was perfectly fine.
Magister sighed a bit, "If you get tired after a sixteen k run, you're never going to win when it comes down to you and Reist."
Normally, Peter would have something to say in return, but he was too busy trying to breath. Suddenly, Magister yanked him up off the ground, "C'mon, we've gotta run back now."
***
Later that night, Peter was sitting alone in one of the center's smaller rooms, huddled in the corner with a roll of bread and water, occasionally tearing off a piece of the bread and scarfing it down. He was in that position when Lance Derikson stepped into the room.
Peter hadn't seen Lance since they were on Galbadia Garden when Balamb was destroyed. He grinned wildly at the sight of his old friend and ran up, embracing him.
"How's it going, Lance?"
Lance allowed a small grin, "It's alright. Better now that you're here."
Peter laughed, "What?"
"You're a morale booster. Most of these guys fighting were Garden students under your father. It's a great boost to have you around."
Peter nodded, "Yeah, well… don't get your hopes up about me."
Lance looked at the small meal, "You know, we DO have actual food here."
Peter smiled, "Yeah, but I don't know how much I can take after today."
"What? The sixteen-kilometer run? C'mon man, that's nothing!"
Peter coughed, "It was thirty-two kilometers."
"Okay, so… double nothing."
"Maybe to you."
Lance smiled, "You'll get used to it. You'll have to."
***
"This next exercise will test your accuracy with a gun."
Peter stifled a laugh, "I'm one of the best, remember?"
Magister gave a nod, still in the cloak, but then moved toward Peter and held out a gun. A simple pistol, but attached was a nine-kilogram weight. Peter frowned, "What's with the weight?"
"Your gun is going to be a gunblade, the dynamics of firing are entirely different. A whole new form of muscle control is required."
Magister handed it to him, and Peter gripped it, his arm dropping slightly from the weight. Magister gave a laugh, "Not as easy as it seems, eh?"
Peter grimaced and held up the weapon, supporting it with both hands. Magister interrupted, "You're going to need to learn how to do that with one hand."
Peter nodded, and dropped the left hand, struggling to hold it with the right.
"Peter, if you want, we can do some weight lifting first, if the nine kilograms is giving you trouble…"
Peter made a face, aimed at the paper target about one hundred yards off, and fired. He lowered the gun as Magister raised up the binoculars and took a look out.
"Well," Magister began, "I'm sure you were a great shot."
Peter frowned.
"But," Magister continued, "there isn't a single bullet hole there."
Peter cursed and lifted the gun again, firing off a second, third and fourth shot.
"Oh wait. I think the third one grazed the target."
There was a pause.
"Nope, it didn't."
***
"This next drill will test your swordplay abilities. Think you're up to it, kid?"
Peter grunted, "Quit calling me 'kid' old man."
Magister laughed, "I'll quit calling you a kid when you become a man." With that, he tossed a small fencing saber to Peter, who caught the handle in his right hand. Magister smiled and pulled another saber from the rack on the wall.
Peter swung the blade a few times, getting a feel for the weapon. Magister stepped towards him.
"There are three rings of defense, Peter. The first, or the outer ring, consists of the upper right, the upper left, the lower right and the lower left. The second, or the middle ring, consists of the high, the low, the left and the right, and when you're within the inner ring, you should keep close and parry. Understood?"
Peter sighed and nodded.
"Okay, attack me."
Peter shrugged and lifted the blade above his head, swinging downwards. Magister effortlessly paralleled the blade to the ground and deflected, sending Peter backwards.
"Middle ring. High. Try again."
Peter twisted around slashing the blade from right to left at Magister's gut. Magister twisted his arms and held the blade perpendicular to the ground, once again blocking the assault.
"Middle ring. Left. C'mon!"
Peter smiled, "Enough of this defense crap, can't we actually DO something?"
Magister laughed again, "If you desire. On your guard!"
Peter lifted the blade and charged, swinging the blade upwards towards Magister's left elbow. Magister leaped backwards and slashed down at the blade, reversing Peter's assault towards the ground. With Peter off of his guard, Magister elbowed the younger man in the face, knocking Animus to the ground. In the last deft movement, he bought the dull blade to Peter's neck.
"Offensives are better when they are successful. And a successful offense requires a working knowledge of defense at the least." With that, Magister turned and walked towards the wall, placing the blade back.
Peter was left catching his breath.
***
Lance Derikson couldn't help it. He laughed.
"You're still eating like that, kid?"
Peter looked up from his bread, "Kid?"
"Yeah, that's your nickname 'round here. In case you haven't noticed."
"Magister…"
"Yep. Magister. He insists." Lance sat next to Peter on the cold floor, "I don't know why you're doing this to yourself."
"I'm training. I have to train." There was an easily traceable sarcasm in Peter's voice.
Lance mulled over it for a second, "It'll make you better kid."
"Maybe it will."
"No. It will. You just have to be determined."
"Determined? To go after the guy who stole everything from me? That's not so hard, believe me."
Lance grinned smugly, "Not that. You have to be determined to be ready to go after him."
With that, Lance unceremoniously exited, leaving Peter with only his thoughts.
***
"Come on now! Last kilometer! You can handle it."
He could. Peter had to resist laughing. He actually could handle it. It had taken a long time, but he could finally handle the damned run. As the last stretch came to a close, and Edea's house became visible, Peter slowed down, bending down and placing his hands on his knees. He laughed.
Magister looked down at him, "You did it. I told you it wasn't that hard."
Peter raised his head up, "That was… freaking… easy."
Then he threw up. Magister laughed now.
***
"Confirmed hit."
Peter grinned and fired off the next shot.
"Another hit."
He fired the gun several more times, reloading once. Magister wasn't watching anymore, but watching Peter with interest.
"I think you've got the hang of it now."
Peter grinned, "Don't you want to look at the target again?"
Magister turned and looked through the binoculars. The target was riddled with bullet holes… spelling a large 'HI!'
"Yeah… you've got the hang of it."
***
Duck!
Peter ducked under as the dull blade flew above his head. He retaliated against Magister with his own assault, swinging from Magister's left side. Magister leaped backwards, narrowly avoiding the attack. Peter had him. Magister was overextended now. He pressed the attack, strafing to his left and staying low as he changed the momentum back and swung the blade in the reverse direction, from Magister's left now. Magister managed to retaliate with a quick perpendicular block, then pushed the blade forward, coming towards Peter's face. Peter snapped his neck back, barely dodging the swing, but knocking himself off balance. He fell to the ground with a thud, and the blade met his throat swiftly.
"You lose, again, Peter. But you put up a fight. You can handle it now."
Peter sighed, "I'll beat you someday."
"You're not the first person to say that to me."
"What happened to the others?"
"They're somewhere six feet beneath the ground. You're ready, though, to make your gunblade. I hope you've got a design planned?"
"Yeah. But can't we get to it already?"
"You've still got a little more left."
***
He still had the nightmares.
It's been a month since I… woke up, or whatever, and they've come to me every night since then. Damn it Peter, get a grip on yourself.
Peter shuffled around in bed. He refused to let himself sleep. He knew what came when he did. However, the mistress of rest held her grip, and Peter collapsed into a world of horror.
***
He was alone, standing in the middle of Balamb. The town was silent, not even the seagulls flew overhead. It was just him. He felt his rifle in his hands, and craned his neck to look around him. Just the still town. Then he turned, and there he was.
Alex Reist, standing fully erect at Peter's height, and staring. Just staring.
Then the crowds. There was no slow introduction. Suddenly, the streets around them were filled with screaming people, running from an unseen terror, and Balamb Garden flew high above them.
And it was on. Peter raised the gun to fire, but he couldn't pull the trigger. Reist continued to stare. And grow. Within seconds, Reist's head was well above Garden, a massive giant threatening to destroy all.
And he did. Alex grabbed Balamb Garden, and crushed it like a tin can, throwing the entire ship into the ocean.
Peter pummeled at Alex's foot with his bare hands, but Alex didn't notice, he merely walked out of Balamb in a single step, Peter hanging on. Then, time froze again. The sounds of the panicked crowd halted. Alex grinned, then lifted his arms. And in a flash, Balamb disappeared in a tremendous display of light.
Peter could only watch in horror as the light rushed towards him, and engulfed him.
***
Peter Animus jolted upright and buried his face in his hands, tears falling from his eyes. He allowed himself to rock back and forth for a few moments, no one around him waking up. After a few moments, he released his head; his eyes still closed, and took in a deep breath.
"You should forgive yourself."
Peter jumped, "Who's there?"
He caught some movement out of the corner of his eye. The figure spoke softly, "You know."
Peter sighed, "Magister."
"Yes."
"Forgive myself?"
"It wasn't your fault."
"You know something, I'll blame myself if I damn well want to."
"You did what you could."
"With no due respect, you weren't there."
"No. I was."
"Prove it."
"We should have this conversation outside."
"Why? You trying to avoid it?"
"I'm trying to avoid waking everyone."
Peter sighed, got a pair of pants on, and walked outside, Magister following.
***
"Okay old man, I've got some problems to settle with you."
"Old man? You don't even know how old I am."
"That would be one of the problems. What the hell is wrong with you that you can't show your face?"
Magister turned away, "I have my reasons."
"Reasons? Fuck, man."
"You know something, kid? I'm sick of your attitude. I'm trying to get you your revenge, and you give me this impatient shit."
"Oh, go to hell. You can't even tell me who you are! And you are giving me a revenge shot? Bullshit, we've been training for a month now!"
"You'd rather die? I'm giving you a shot for success!"
"Then let's fucking take it! Every minute we waste is another minute Alex gets stronger!"
Magister took a few steps away.
"And you know, it, don't you, Magister? You know that we're wasting time."
"We're not wasting time. You think I want us to lose again? I saw the destruction at Balamb, up-close. I don't want to fail again. We'll take our shot when we've got a shot at success."
"Up-close? From where? Some boat on the water? I was there."
"So was I!"
"Then why can't you show your face? We'd love another veteran here, but no, you hide yourself! Fuck man. Friend of my father, you said? My father wouldn't have befriended a coward!"
"Your father…"
"What do you know about my father?"
"A lot more than you!"
Peter had to hold himself back, "Fuck you! How dare you say that! What gives you the right?"
There was a long pause.
"I have the right. Because I…" Magister trailed off.
Peter turned and sighed, "Fuck you. My father would hate for me to waste time like this. Not after what happened to mom. I'm leaving now."
"Your father knows what he is doing!"
Peter halted in his tracks, turning to Magister, "What?"
The cloaked figure turned back to Peter, "I mean… I know what I'm doing."
Then it hit Peter like a freight train, "No…"
Peter watched as Magister removed the hood of the cloak, revealing the face of Miles Animus, scarred and somewhat burnt, but the same man.
"It's me, Peter."
***
It took about five minutes before any words were spoken. Finally, Peter managed to sputter out a comprehensible sentence.
"Dad, is that… really you?"
"Yeah. It's me."
Peter fell to his knees, tears flowing from his eyes out of joy. Miles stepped over and bent down alongside his son, embracing the younger man.
"Dad, I…"
"I know, Peter."
They remained in the embrace for a few moments, and finally Peter pulled out of his father's grip, and threw a wild punch into Miles' shoulder.
"You bastard!"
Miles merely remained still.
"All this time? You've been hiding who you are? Why?"
"I couldn't reveal myself to you or the others. I was much more useful in death than in life. And I couldn't ruin your training by making it personal."
Peter sighed, "How?"
Miles stood up and put his arm around his son, "Let's go inside, it's freezing out here."
***
"To this day, I'm not quite sure how I made it out. Neos and I backed into an elevator, away from the bomber, while Veronica remained, trying to negotiate. The elevator was moving downwards when the bomb went off.
"There was the explosion, the alarms, and the elevator was shaking. The cord snapped, and the thing plummeted, it crashed down onto the MD level. Somehow, we survived. Neos was trying to yell something, but I had this ringing in my ears. I looked one way. When I turned back, he was gone, and I was alone in the dark. I took a step forward, and there was another explosion, I suppose it was about fifty yards ahead of me. Anyway, something flew at my head, and I blacked out.
"When I came to, I was alone in the wreckage of Garden. I snuck out, grabbed a disguise, and wound up joining in with a group of other SeeDs. Before I could reveal who I was, they started discussing 'the great Miles Animus' and how they would fight a war to avenge his death, and the death of his wife." Miles paused, "So, I stuck with it, saying I was a friend of Miles' taking a visit at the time.
"I quickly became a form of legend. A man with the talents of Miles, and a friend, one of the best of the best, and I began to train. I let Lance handle the leadership stuff though. He always was a better speaker." Miles laughed.
Peter nodded, "So what do we really know?" Miles raised an eyebrow, and Peter sighed, "Dad, I'm not stupid. Obviously, there's another reason to keep yourself secret."
"I knew you'd start asking questions."
"Why would that be a bad thing?"
"I know a few things that you shouldn't know."
"Like what?"
Miles sighed. There was no hiding it now. "Neos and Julia are still alive. They're being held in the old D-District Prison, along with a few others."
Peter jumped, "Then what are we doing here? We've gotta go get 'em!"
"This is why you couldn't have known."
"What?"
"You're not done yet."
"Not done? Damn it! I've passed all of your goddamn tests!"
"You still have one thing left to do."
"What's that?"
"You're a gunblade expert, sure. But you don't have a gunblade."
"You're shitting me, right?"
Miles smiled, "Yeah. We can build one later. Meanwhile, let's go kick some ass."
"Hey, wait a minute. What about you?"
"Me?"
"Where's your weapon?"
"Oh, I've rebuilt the Dual Hyperion." Peter smiled. "Tonight though, we sleep. We move tomorrow."