~
Irvine sat nervously in the armored Terran transport. He was worried; he never did his best while nervous. And his thoughts only served to compound his anxiety.
He stared down at his blocky silver armor. What am I doing here? he sighed inwardly. This isn't my battle. I don't know the Nebrians, and I don't care about Galbadia. I'm not fighting for anything here! I don't belong.
I need motivation, he thought. Well, I'll get my biggest payout in monhts...who knows, when I'm a war hero, maybe I can find me a hot Nebrian chick an' settle down for a few months...
This ain't working.
Irvine turned to the man seated beside him. He was wide-shouldered, with skin as white as the flesh of a corpse. His bald head was lined with black tattoos. Silver spheres wrapped around his ears. Thin grey eyes looked blankly ahead.
"What's up?" said Irvine; he was the only one in the transport to speak.
The young man thinned his eyes tighter.
Irvine slouched back in his seat. "So...this is supposed to be an easy one, eh?"
The soldier did not reply.
"Hey man, what's the deal?"
He turned sharply to Irvine, stuck a gloved finger in his face, and growled. "Shut up."
Irvine quickly backed off. "Hyne, okay! Just tryin' to make some conversation!"
"We don't make conversation."
Irvine nodded, and thought on that for a long time. But he still felt like talking, dispite his better judgement. "Why's that?"
The soldier throated a sneer under his breath. He turned once again to the free-spirited sniper. "So when you die, we don't feel sorry for you. That's why."
~
Irvine blinked; his head ached powerfully. Chills ran through him in stabbing spasms. His vision blurred badly. He struggled to sit upright, dispite an overwhelming soreness.
He could swear there was a face, someone standing over him. It grew closer, and he smelled a gentle scent of light perfume. The touch of a human hand met his neck. It carefully pressed him back down.
"Relax," said a gentle, light female voice, "you're all right. Give yourself a second." The woman laughed lightly. "You're all crosseyed."
"Great," chuckled Irvine. "My guardian angel's got a sense of humor."
"Your vision's worse than I thought! I'm no angel."
Irvine's focus gradually returned. A beautiful young woman sat over his place. Her skin was deeply tanned, her long hair bleached white. Wide green eyes stared down at him, and her dark lips held a warm smile.
Irvine raised an eyebrow. "Could've fooled me," he smiled. His benefactor blushed. "So," he said, "I'm not in heaven, then?"
"More like hell," she replied, "but colder. Welcome to Trabia."
~
] Industrial District 23
] Nebria
Quistis reclined on a long, comfortable sofa. Her eyes were swollen from exhaustion, and her body bandaged from the attack a few days before. She was dressed in a white bathrobe, much too big for her, and tied tightly to compensate.
Their hotel was well-furnished, and modestly decorated with paintings and statuettes that reminded her of smalltown Balamb. But outside the balcony window and several dozen floors down, the technological marvel of Nebria was alive and more than her full of the strange. The streets were made of steel, or something like it, but surely not concrete, and a variety of weirdly-designed machines rode over them. Buildings were constructed in odd half-boxy, half arched fashions, not a one looking like the others. Each skyscraper was lit with glowing, flowing neon streaks. Hover-copters whooshed around their tops. The sky was night; it had been since their arrival days ago.
No doubt, Quistis liked the atmosphere. Or would have, on any other trip to Nebria. Everything had a majestic air to it, it all seemed to flow perfectly. But Quistis had been handed more than she could stomach of bad experiences, and all she wished for now was a one-way ticket back home. Back to Balamb Garden, to her quad, and safe and warm in bed.
She nearly drifted to sleep, but Selphie's cry snapped her awake.
"Well...at least Irvine's okay, right?"
Quistis nodded to the floor, where Selphie sat nervously. "Uh-huh," she replied wearily.
It was indeed a relief to her. Irvine had called Snap's military frequency, which he had thankfully remembered after all these years. He said little, only that he was back in Trabia, still recovering. And for the SeeD and their comrades not to go anywhere, because he would meet up with them in Nebria.
Something about it seemed wrong, or at least unexplained. But Quistis could not think about it. Her head pounded from the responsibilities on her shoulders. She had watched over Selphie since her arrival and saved her from certain death many a time. She had become the target of assassins connected with Aren Bowes, whom she knew little about, and was not completely sure if she could trust.She had met one of Bowes' friends, who seemed to have a removable lower jaw. She had almost died three days ago. She had been cold to her friend Irvine, and then he had nearly perished as well.
Her stomach turned from Garden's GF medication. Quistis sighed shakily, and lay down on the couch.
But Selphie continued. "I mean, Aren's been gone for a while, though...he hasn't called Snap, and we know he could...I dunno, maybe I'm just worrying too much."
Quistis' puffy eyes closed themselves tightly. "Yeah...I dunno..."
"...But I still think he should have...even if he...not like him to...."
Selphie's voice trailed in and out. Quistis was too weary to respond. She finally gave up, rested her head on the sofa's pillow, and let in the welcome drift away from Selphie and into sleep.
~
