~
Seifer stepped briskly down the Garden hall. A foursome of young ladies wearing the standard black tops and short skirts noticed him as he grew closer. The students called his name excitedly; he paid them no attention.
What a waste, he thought. I could have killed them all; I had the opportunity. Why hadn't I taken it? I could have been filthy rich by now, back home. I should've taken my shot.
But he had hesitated for many reasons. He had never trusted Mikael's assessment of Aren Bowes; Mikael was too immature to realize his faults, or his enemy's shortcomings. Aren could have been dangerous. And though Seifer knew he would not be killed, he disliked the thought of being unnecessarily wounded. It was not the efficient way to go about things.
But more importantly, it was because of Quistis. He had forgotten about Quistis.
The most attractive of the students, a pale-faced brunette laiden with makeup, grabbed his arm provocatively. "Hey, Seifer..." she sighed, "how come you never called...?"
Seifer spun about and her by the bicep. He twisted it back; she screamed and convusled away. Seifer threw the girl into the wall and knelt beside her. The young lady's friends stepped back in fear; students crowded around to catch a glimpse of the action.
Seifer's eyes slitted down at her. He grabbed a handful of her perfectly set hair and yanked it up. She screamed again and raised her eyes to his horrible face.
"What did you call me?" Seifer growled.
"....Mas...Master Almasy..." she quivered.
He placed his free hand on her neck. His leather glove squeezed the pale flesh and the girl coughed and cried.
"You will treat your superiors with due respect and courtesy," he hissed, "or I will instill a fear within you so deep it will follow you until the day you die. Do you understand?"
She shook her makeup-smeared face behind his closing glove. "Y-yes! Yes, Master!" she choked.
Seifer threw her hard against the wall once again. The hall of students divided, as they jumped back against the walls to let Seifer pass. He wiped his hands against his long silver coat, and continued down the hall.
He opened a windowless door and stepped inside. The room was small, a standard hospital lodging of four white walls and a few pieces of furniture. On a sterile medical bed sat Mikael Midas. His upper body was bare; his flesh glowed a dull ice blue. A massive cavity in his chest was torn open. Flesh ended in clumps of blue and gave way to a collage of multicolored wires and cables that poured from within. The life support system was attached to series of monitors and automated devices that took up the remainder of the room.
Mikael looked up. "They'll be done by tomorrow morning," he said. "The doctors have never seen what I've got. They're learning on the fly. Very reassuring."
Seifer leaned on a large, boxy machine. "How long before you can travel?" he asked.
"As soon as they're done," replied Mikael. "And stay away from that thing, if you don't mind. That's my lungs."
Seifer nodded with a sneer and a mocking pat on the machine. "You blew it back there."
"Shut up," said Mikael. "You left me out to dry."
"Because you told me Bowes was a wimp. He ripped your chest open with his bare hands."
"I got sloppy."
"You got your ass kicked!" said Seifer quickly. "But you did give me a chance to scan him over nice and good."
Seifer stretched out his arm, and flicked his wrist. A large spinning orb of imploding black energy formed and floated on his open palm. "He's weak to all magic. All magic, and you couldn't even cast one spell on him."
Mikael looked carefully without a change of expression.
"But of all magic," said Seifer, "he's especially weak to timespace. This little spell is a Demi. I could sneeze and cast a Demi. But it'll blow his brains out."
"Wait a minute." Mikael stood up. "I told you I needed to settle this with Bowes myself. That's all I asked."
Seifer shook his head. "I'm not going to wait around while you two regress to the good ol' days. I'm going to kill Bowes and the SeeDs so I can get my money, head back to my club and go get some decent sex."
The Demi dissipated, and Seifer tugged lightly on one of the cables that snaked from Mikael's chest. "He did this to you, I'm assuming."
"That's right," said Mikael. "Gutted me like a damned fish. Shot me in the back, too."
Seifer's blonde eyebrow raised. "With?"
"Ever heard of a Hellcaster?"
A nod from Seifer. "Yeah, yeah I have," he breathed. He rubbed his palm under his chin. "Know what," he said. "I think you could take him. I'll get you a straight shot at him and we'll see what happens."
Mikael's steely eyes widened. "Serious?"
"Yeah. You need a pointer or two, but you could take him."
Seifer stared at the metal and wires protruding from Mikael's chest. "Garden hasn't seen this yet? It must be far ahead of its time."
"It works," said Mikael. "It's not the same, but I'm not dead anymore."
Seifer found Mikael's wording odd; he decided not to ask. "Who made it?" he offered instead.
"Who made me?" Mikael laughed, and poked at the wires. "Or at least this much of me. The rest is real. But this is the work of a Terran, a Nebrian. His name is Kore."
~
