~
Seifer's hyperion-sleeved trench coat swung to his side, blown by the ocean breeze. The tattered garment was no longer in the perfect shape of times past. Seifer had long given up caring for it, though he was seldom seen without it.
He stood on a long metal shipping wharf at Balamb's harbor. Fisherman gave him quizzical glances as they passed; the fresh blood smeared on his clothes was reason enough. But Seifer's cold stare made each one move by without comment.
Mikael's raspy shout drew his attention from the splashing waves. He turned and left his spot, and walked casually to the cement courtyard that served as parking lot to the seaside Balamb Inn.
A long, black stretch limousine was parked in the lot. Mikael walked from the vehicle's side and met Seifer halfway.
"They're looking for you," he said coldly.
Seifer noted a sense of added importance in Mikael's tone. "Go find someplace to be," he waved.
Mikael frowned. "You sure? What if these guys are from Bowes?"
"Fine," replied Seifer. "Just keep your mouth shut."
They stopped at the limousine's back door. It clicked open, and a gentleman in a black business suit stepped out. He looked of average height, but was hunched forward slightly in an uncomfortable pose. His long-jawed face and neat brown hair were easily recognized. The man appeared to be Rade, the headmaster of Galbadia Garden.
But if it was Rade, something had altered his appearance for the worse. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen. His neck was thin, and his cheekbones protruded from a ghastly pale face. With skeletal fingers, the man leaned himself against the limo's door.
"How'd your little meeting with Cid go?" he wheezed dryly.
Seifer folded his arms. "According to specs. We let him live, but the message was sent. Shall we elaborate?"
"No, no." Rade waved his bony hand. "I don't want to hear anything that might incriminate me later. So long as you got the job done, that's fine. How'd your accomplice fare through the whole thing?"
"Well enough." Seifer nodded toward a proudly standing Mikael. "For somebody who's just been operated on a day or two ago, he's a damned monster."
Rade smiled. "Good. I'm not paying you to be merciful. And this job needs finishing now. Don't delay. Get back into Nebria as soon as you can, and finish up."
Seifer nodded gravely at his unhealthy-looking employer, as Rade carefully lowered himself into the seat. The garden master's thin hands shook under the pressure of his underweight body.
"So," Seifer smiled, and cracked his black gloves together. "Feeling well?"
Rade looked up through the rolled-down car window. "Let me remind you," he coughed, and cleared his throat. "That this conversation is still being monitored. Watch what you say."
"Nah," said Seifer, "I'm sure the real Headmaster will get a kick out of this." He stepped up to the window, knelt down, and saluted into the sickly Rade's face. "Hello, sir! Thanks for the money to patch up Midas!"
Rade thinned his wrinkled eyelids. "Cut that out, Almasy."
Seifer poked Rade in the forehead. "Still got some work to do on this one. Looks like he'll only last another few hours, at best. Guess I'm still the cream of the crop! Makes me feel kinda special..."
"That's enough!" cried Rade.
Seifer gripped his palm over the wrinkled face and squeezed. He thrusted the weak man away, and Rade thudded against the limo's floor.
"Oh, shut the hell up," Seifer laughed. "Now hurry up and die before you start stinking up the place."
The tinted limousine window rose up before Seifer. He was faced with his reflection; a sharp-faced, scarred Seifer grinning back at him. And he suddenly felt a painful shock, one that dissipated his cruel humor. The smile he bore did not last long; it shrunk back into its rightful place as a tight scowl.
He slammed the limo door and turned his back on it. The wind pulled at his Hyperion jacket as the car pulled away.
Mikael stood tall, with arms folded across the heavy black shirt on his chest. "What the hell did you just do?" he growled. "You think he's gonna pay us after what you just pulled?"
Seifer's scuffed leather boots clicked against the concrete as he approached. He placed his hands upon his hips. "One more time, chief?"
"This is my payoff too, Almasy," Mikael stated, pointing in Seifer's face. "I don't care how high-and-mighty you think you are, all right? I've been in the 'killing people' business for a while myself. And I'm not gonna stand aside while you pull that stupid macho crap and blow my pay."
Seifer glanced down at Mikael's light-blue hand. He stepped threateningly close; Mikael pulled his arm away, but stood his ground imposingly. Each soldier held a death threat in his cold stare. But Seifer's differed from Mikael's. Seifer held a glare that encompassed the macabre; a contorted visage that expressed not a sense of power, but of depression, and anticipation of doom.
"You have no idea what, and whom, you are dealing with," he said, with the air of disgust in his voice.
"Maybe I ought to know, then." Mikael still held his position.
Seifer cracked a smile. "It's a little much to digest at once."
"Clue me in, and I'll make that decision for myself."
Seifer nodded with mock courtesy, and stepped away. He pointed to the harbor's edge, where the limousine was stopped. The black-suited driver was heaving a long nylon bag into the waves off the pier's edge.
"What if I told you," said Seifer, "that the man we spoke to was not the real Evon Rade? That he's a biological stand-in, designed to last a few days and to keep the real McCoy safe from assasinations."
Mikael raised an eyebrow, but kept his arms folded.
"What if I told you," Seifer continued with pale blue eyes baring down. "That there was a way to keep a man alive...forever. Without the trouble of aging or artificial assistance. And that if you died, you could be resurrected, even years after your death."
The scowl on Mikael's face was gone. Seifer could tell he was contemplating the concepts, turning them over in his head. Long moments passed. Seifer could wait.
"Garden can do this?" Mikael finally asked.
Seifer nodded. "Among other things."
He turned toward the long stone pier, where the limousine was rolling away toward a Balamb sidestreet. Seifer waved his hand for Mikael to follow, and he crossed the empty parking lot.
"Is...is this what the SeeD found out?" asked Mikael, as he caught up.
Seifer shook his head. "It gets far deeper. Long story short is this: Garden has made advancements in the last ten years that eclipse mankind's exploits in the last century, maybe more. These things are kept top secret and will be revealed slowly, when mankind is ready for them."
The two stepped onto the pier, and glanced down at the crystal ocean waves. The long black bag was sinking fast into the depths, carried out by the pulling tide.
"But there was an instance," said Seifer, "about two years ago, when some people found out what Garden had been doing. They couldn't fathom the things they found, or their implications for the future. Those people were angered, and terrified, just as any human being acts when he's confronted by something he doesn't understand."
Mikael watched Seifer intently, but Seifer's eyes were still on the sinking bag. As gravity dragged it deeper down, fish were already nibbling on its edges, inspecting its contents.
"They gathered themselves into a force, and readied for battle. And they prepared to show the world in one instant what Garden had taken lifetimes to bring to life. Their actions would have spelled catastrophe."
A large fish grabbed hold of the bag's zipper, and gave it a firm tug. As the bag disappeared into the pitch dark, a thin and pale human hand slipped from inside, and wavered fluidly with the current.
"These SeeD," said Seifer, "these men and women we're after, have discovered what happened to those people."
~
