Ch 8 – Blind Confrontation
Darkness.
The inviting black welcomed Zell with open arms, and he fell into it with no objection, his battered body twisting and tumbling into the void.
Strangely, it gave him a weird sense of déjà vu, and he suddenly remembered Time Compression, the weird sucking of your soul as you tumbled and twirled through time.
He didn't feel scared, however. He was having a dream, one of those ones where you fell and fell, and just when you were about to hit the ground, you wake up. Instead of freaking out, he took the opportunity to think, his mind completely open to everything within memory.
"Why did I use so much power?" he thought out loud. "I should have known better then to use that much. I almost destroyed the entire stadium! I'll be lucky if they let me continue to fight…and to mention that my cover is more then blown…everyone will be watching me now."
His body felt light and numb, like a dead-leg. He felt no pain, and he wondered how much damage he had received from Chan. "Geez…Limit Arrest…I hope Selphie's ok…and what about Chan?! Hyne, I might have killed him with that blow!!"
Shock and worry flooded his mind, and suddenly the void receded to the moment where his fist connected with Chan's stomach. Zell watched, horrified, as his fist smashed into the flesh – and then seemed to travel into it, buried within muscles and bodily organs. He saw all this as if he was watching from the outside – a spectator, but up close and right within the action.
He watched Chan's face go from horror to a mixture of shock and surprise. As the slow reaction caught up with Chan, his bloody face slowly went from shock to nothing, all emotion fading as he was launched from the ring.
Zell had killed him. There was no doubt in his mind.
Gripping his head with lifeless hands, he bellowed his sadness and rage towards the darkness, which enveloped him once more.
* * *
Back in the real world, the place was in pandemonium.
Officials swarmed the ring, moving up to Selphie and Zell to study their reactions and to see if they were actually alive. They crowded around the two SeeDs, groping at their bodies, wanting to be the first to study these fine magical specimens.
The crowd was in an uproar. People were disappointed at the destruction of their recording equipment, whilst the other half wanted to see more of the stuff that Zell had shown. The ushers and security officials had their hands full trying to keep the spectators in their seats.
To add to the confusion, several gunshots rang out, and everybody ducked as Irvine jumped from his seat and onto the ground, his Vincent Valentines blasting in the air as he ran towards the ring, people running from him as if he had the plague.
Several security officials stood in his way just before he got to the edge of the ring. "Sir! Put down the weapons and move away from the ring!" one screamed, raising a hand with a Fire spell fully charged and ready.
Irvine slowed the sprint to a causal walk, his hands now twirling the Vincent Valentines with precision and speed, the guns a blur in his hands. "I've defeated two Sorceresses with these guns, my friends…" he growled, his voice barely audible over the screams and yells of the crowd. "If you think you're piddling magic can stop me, then go right ahead and try!"
The man hesitated…before drawing his hand back and throwing the Fire spell with all the strength he could muster.
Irvine smirked. "Fool…" he muttered, the twirling guns blasting the spell out of the air without seeming to slow down.
The men looked at each other – and bolted. They weren't getting paid enough to take on a guy of this calibre.
Irvine stepped up onto the ring and walked over to where the officials began to take Selphie and Zell off. They stopped as they saw Irvine walking towards them. One stepped forward. "Look, son – " was all he got out, before a gunshot echoed around the grandstands, a blossom of blood appearing in the mans left leg. He fell, howling, and Irvine stood tall, his smoking guns levelled at the group of men.
"I am these people's bodyguard, and I'm here to protect them from any foul play from within the tournament." He gestured with the handguns for the group of men to move to the left. "Step away from them. Now!"
The officials did as they were told, making enough room for Irvine to move to Zell and Selphie. Zell lay still, motionless; his body looking more bruised and mangled then it had looked up in the stands. Selphie was hyperventilating, the shock of a number of strange men suddenly poking and probing her body after such a huge amount of energy transfer too much for her to stand.
Irvine moved over to her, crouching down and cradling her head in his hands. "Selph? Selph, it's Irvy. Can you hear me? You've got to calm down honey. We need to get Zell to the Ragnarok."
Selphie seemed to calm a little at the sound of Irvine's voice, and looked up at him with wide eyes. "How…how is he?" she gulped, her breathing beginning to slow.
Irvine looked over at Zell. He still twitched every now and then, but apart from his initial wounds, didn't look too worse for wear. "We need to get him to the Ragnarok now.'
* * *
"Hold him down!!"
"I'm trying Selphie! He's pretty strong, you know!"
Selphie had managed to help Irvine carry Zell back to the Ragnarok, where they had placed him onto the bed in the infirmary. Selphie had recovered from the influx of energy just enough to help Irvine carry the unconscious warrior, before collapsing at the foot of the bed, exhausted. But now Zell was beginning to have another seizure, and Irvine was vainly trying to hold him down.
She stood on tired legs, and looked down at his convulsing form, thinking through the fog in her mind. "This will hold him for a little while…" Selphie drew her hands up above her head and allowed some power to form within them, the Time magic forming in a purple light around her fingertips. "Get out of the way!"
Irvine threw himself away from Zell and moved to the far edge of the room. Selphie pointed her fingers at Zell and screamed the word "Stop!"
A purple transparent clock materialised above Zell, the hands that ran a little faster then normal slowing down…then stopping. It then dissipated in a puff of purple light, and Zell remained frozen, his hands gripping the bed-sheets, his knees bent slightly, his head pulled back as his muscles complained at the lack of spiritual energy.
Selphie lowered her hands wearily, and pitched forward on a one-way trip to the floor – but Irvine caught her at the last second, hugging her to him tightly. She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. "I…I think I took too much from him…"
Irvine brushed a lock of chocolate brown hair from her sweat-covered brow and shook his head. "You did the right thing, babe. He'll be fine once his body calms down." He pressed her head against his chest, and looked over to Zell's frozen form. "When will the magic wear off?"
Selphie didn't look up. "I don't know. My magic levels are the highest they've ever been. It ought to wear off gradually, I think…" She yawned. "But…I don't know…when…"
Irvine looked down at her. "I think it's time you got some sleep, huh? I think Zell will be able to take care of himself for now…"
* * *
Irvine pressed the close door stud, the door to Selphie's quarters closing silently. He had tucked her into bed with little resistance, pulling her boots off with no complaint. In fact, she had seemed to enjoy the pampering, snuggling into the sheets wearily, wrapping a weak arm around a Moomba doll. He had shook his head with a smile, finding the fact that she still slept with the stuffed animal amusing. She was almost twenty, for Hyne's sake!
He turned from the closed door and walked down the corridor, his boots clacking against the metal floor, the echo carrying around the empty ship effortlessly. He shoved his hands into his pockets and leant against a wall, letting out a long, slow breath.
Hyne…I've never seen Zell do that before! And the way Selphie simply jumped out of her chair…it was like something out of a movie…
He shook his head. And now our cover is most defiantly blown. I don't even think the officials will allow Zell to proceed with the tournament…
He walked into the pilot room, and sat down in the co-pilot's seat. Fro some reason he felt drained, like he had been running for hours on end. Moving the convulsing Zell to the infirmary and then trying to not let him hurt himself had taken more out of him then he thought…
* * *
He awoke suddenly to feel a vibration in one of his pockets, and pulled out the Ragnarok's locking mechanism. Did I fall asleep? Someone wants to come in, hey? He pressed a button on the square control, and a picture came onto its tiny screen.
It was President Justice, flanked by his security detail. The old man looked worried.
Irvine grimaced. He didn't like the old man. The way he had authorised the selection process was almost…inhuman. He raised the little box to his lips and spoke. "Who is it?" he asked casually, pressed a little stud on the side of the box, much like a military radio.
One of the security personnel spoke up. "President Justice wishes to see Zell Dincht."
"Well, Zell is slightly indisposed right now, but when he's able to string words together I think he'll be more then happy to talk."
The man looked up at the camera. "I don't think you understand, sir. President Justice wants to see Zell Dincht."
"And I don't think you understand, man! Zell isn't seeing anybody until he is up and walking around, ok?!"
The man turned to President Justice and traded some words with him, before turning back to the intercom. "Then you give us no choice." A man beside the camera suddenly produced a handgun, and Irvine saw a flash before static filled the screen.
"Shit!" He yelled, throwing the device to the floor and running for the main doors, popping the spent clips from his Vincent Valentines and slamming fresh ones in, chambering the rounds.
* * *
When he got to the doorway several toughs clad in suits, wielding sub-machine guns, met him. He didn't trade pleasantries at first – he simply shot them.
He hit two and managed to shoot the third in the back as he turned and ran down the ramp. "Execute counter-measures!" the man screamed, before a bullet lodged itself in his shoulder, causing him to fall twisting to the ground.
Several other men came running up the ramp, firing wildly with their repeating guns. Irvine jumped backwards, his guns blazing between his legs; the yellow flames reporting from the barrels coinciding with the puffs of red as the bullets hit the guard's square in the chests. Irvine hit the ground on his back and followed with a roll, coming to his feet. Looking down at the guns in his hands, he saw that the slides were clicked back. They were empty.
A grenade was thrown in over the dead bodies, and Irvine's eyes widened as he saw what it was. Red and trembling, the grenade suddenly erupted in red fire, seeming to expand and grow.
Irvine popped the clips for his handguns as the Bomb grew to full height, the floating fireball grinning manically with red-hot teeth. Turning the gun's clips to face his sleeves, tiny IR ports built into the wrist holsters and into the gun hilts acknowledged the empty chambers and two clips sprang from the catches within his sleeves, slamming into the clip chambers.
Irvine released the slides from their lock-back positions and rolled to the left as the Bomb rammed at him, slamming into a metal wall. Irvine cringed as he saw the indent from where the Bomb crashed begin to melt. Laguna is going to kill us… he thought as he levelled the guns at the round ball of rock and flame, the guns flaring as round after round blasted pieces off the Bomb's rocky hide.
Twitching and tumbling through the air as the bullets continued to slam into it, the Bomb turned and flew at Irvine once more, flying over the evasive gunslinger to twirl gracefully outside.
Irvine looked down at the Vincent Valentines in his hands. I'll never be able to kill it with these.
Irvine took the opportunity to let the handguns retract back into his sleeves and run to a small box strapped to the wall next to the opening of the Ragnarok. Punching it with a hand, the cover flew off, revealing a new and improved Mark Dincht. Irvine had been working on it ever since he had unintentionally destroyed it fighting Edea, and had only recently finished it.
Pulling it from the felt casing, he grabbed a handful of bullets from a certain ammo pouch and expertly loaded it, taking less then two seconds. Flipping the lever action rifle over his hand, a bullet chambering as he flipped it, he caught it expertly with his hand and waited for the Bomb to come back in.
He didn't need to wait long. The round monster flew straight into the Ragnarok with murder in it's burning orbs that passed as eyes, and Irvine could do nothing but gasp as he saw how big it had grown.
A Bomb monster grew bigger the more you inflicted damage upon it, and this Bomb had barely been able to fit through the Ragnarok's opening. The giant monster dwarfed Irvine, radiating heat, dripping molten lava from it's gaping jaws. Irvine had to kill it now – otherwise it would self-destruct, taking the Ragnarok and everybody in it with it.
Rasing the Dincht to his shoulder, he blasted the monster. The special ammo he had grabbed, bullets made out of ice, slammed into the monsters hide, causing the massive ball of fire to scream shrilly, the intense cold causing it to shrink more and more.
He levered cold shells from the barrel as he shot it again and again, the icy shells melting almost as soon as they tinkled to the floor, until the monster lay on the ground, no bigger then a soccer ball, mewling pitifully.
Irvine, for all he was worth, could only put it out of it's misery. Walking right up to it, he placed the barrel of the Dincht to it's now mostly rocky hide and squeezed the trigger.
The monster shattered into a thousand pieces as the bullet blew it to wherever monsters go when they die, and Irvine breathed a sigh of relief – before the Dincht was shot out of his hands, a bullet smashing into the chamber of the gun, rendering it useless.
Irvine grimaced, annoyed that almost four years of work had been destroyed in an instant, before forgetting about it as he dodged the hale of bullets coming his way. The Vincent Valentines dropped into his hands again, and he returned fire before ducking into a maintenance room as the docking bay suddenly became too dangerous to be in.
"What's up with this, Pres?" Irvine yelled over the gunshots, craning his hand around the doorway and blasting wildly. "Since when does the President of Galbadia come in with guns blazing?!"
"Believe me, Mr. Kinnes it would have been easier if you had simply allowed us to board under your own steam." Was the calm reply.
"I'm beginning to see what you're like, Justice! You're no different then Deling!" He yelled back after sending several bullets towards the group of toughs.
There was a scuffling and a yell from outside, before Justice suddenly burst into the room, grabbing Irvine by his coat and slamming him into the ground.
"I'm nothing like that sadist!" the old man screamed, his security detail swarming the room, all guns pointed at Irvine. "Deling wouldn't have been able to run this country for any longer! I will bring peace to this country!"
He had been taken by surprise by the old man, who was red in the face from the accusation, but that hadn't stopped Irvine from digging the guns into the old man's stomach. "What about the selection? That sounds like something Deling would do to me." He muttered, safe in the fact that he safe as long as the guns remained on the President. "What about now? Barging in without invitation?"
The old man's face went from a furious red to a sad and tired grey. "You think I enjoyed hearing that news? I didn't even set up the selection! I left it in the hands of the coordinators for the fight…" he narrowed his eyes. "Who still seem to think that they have the control they used to have with Deling. And if you had some manners, I wouldn't have to resort to these kinds of dealings! All I wanted to do was see a friend!"
"Then why didn't you stop the selection?"
"What was I supposed to do?! I'm the President, but I'm still human! Do you think they tell me everything?!"
Irvine looked up at the old man with narrowed eyes…but withdrew the guns, allowing them to slip back into his sleeve holsters. He allowed the old man to stand and straighten his tie, and watched as the security detail put away their sub-machines guns and walked out. "Ok, fine. Maybe I over-reacted." Irvine muttered. "I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it. My men will be revived. They've been trained in receiving damages." He straightened his tie once more. "Now that's over, I'd like to see Zell, if you wouldn't mind." Said the President softly, with dignity.
* * *
After the reassurance that the bodyguards wouldn't be allowed on the Ragnarok again, Irvine gave President Justice the two-cent tour.
Irvine found that the more he talked to the old man, the more he seemed like a nice guy. He was gentle in some ways, yet clumsy in others. He was like a mixture of Squall and Zell – open and warm like Zell, but intelligent and precise like Squall. As they moved through the many rooms in the Ragnarok, he asked questions and made observations, most of which Irvine found himself trying to answer to the best of his abilities.
Most of the questions, however, were answered with "Ah…I guess you'll have to asked Selphie about that."
"And how is Miss Tilmett? She didn't seem all that well when she tried to heal Zell." The President said as they moved through some corridors.
"Well…you see, Mr. President…"
"Please, call me Justice.
"Well…Justice…She had a little overload of power. She's sleeping right now."
"Ah…but it was a spectacular fight, was it not?"
Irvine grinned and tipped his hat up. "Yes it was, sir. Yes it was. I've seen Zell in action, but that fight has tipped the scale on what I've seen him perform so far."
"Yes…I too have seen many a good fight, and that has been one of the best I've seen in…years!"
"How's the tournament going so far?" Irvine asked.
Justice smirked, his face wrinkling more then usual. "Pale by comparison to the first fight."
Irvine grinned. "I thought so…so, will Zell be allowed to continue in the tournament?"
President Justice halted, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Well…I talked to the judges, and I managed to convince them that the abilities that Zell showed were within the regulations of the tournament…so he will be allowed to advance."
Irvine pumped his fist into the air. "Excellent!! Thank you so much! Zell will be over the moon!!"
Justice smiled warmly. "Well, lets go see the fighter, shall we?"
* * *
The dreams receded slowly from Zell's mind, the horrified face of Chan burrowing deep into memory as someone shook Zell awake. He opened his eyes wearily, the light hurting them. He had a black eye as well, reducing his vision by half. He couldn't remember getting that. "What?" he mumbled. "What's going on?"
"Zell?" A warm, old voice asked. "How are you feeling, son?"
"Like someone chewed me up and spat me out…who are you?"
"This is President Justice, Zell. Do you remember me?"
Zell frowned his bruised brow, the action causing even more pain. "I'm sorry, Mr. President. I…can't see very well at the moment."
"That's fine, Zell." The disembodied voice replied. "I came to see you as soon as I could. I just wanted to see if you were alright."
"Well, as soon as Selphie gets off her lazy backside and heals me up, it'll be like it never happened."
Someone cleared his throat, and Zell turned his head to try and see who it was. "Irvine? Where's Selphie?"
Irvine, or someone that smelled like Irvine, lots of leather, gunpowder and expensive cologne, came and crouched next to Zell's bed. "You…you had a lot of power stored up, man. She…she could barely contain it."
Zell lowered his head to the pillow once more, letting it sink in as well as the information. "Is she…?"
"She's fine. She just needed to get some rest. I'll check up on her right now, 'kay? I'll be right back."
Irvine stood and moved out of the room, leaving Zell alone with the President. The old man cleared his throat, and began to speak when Zell beat him to the punch. "How long have I been out for?"
President Justice cleared his throat. "About seven or so hours, Irvine said. Selphie had to cast Stop on you to make the convulsions stop. You took a lot out of you're friends, using that much energy."
Zell would have scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment if his arm could move. "They are good friends…all I did was underestimate Chan's strength…I won't do that again."
"So…you're going to continue in the tournament?"
The way the question was asked surprised Zell, as if President Justice wanted Zell to quit. Are you capable of ordering an assassination? Zell thought to himself, as he tried not to let the surprise show. "Of course. As soon as I get out of this bed, I'll be ready for action."
"Well…that's good." Again the distant voice. It literally screamed don't go on! "Do you still want to have dinner in Deling tonight?"
Zell grinned, surprised at the pain the simple procedure gathered. "Sure! I wouldn't miss it for the world."
"Well, if you can't make it…you know, because of your injuries…then don't hesitate to cancel."
Once more, the hesitant voice. "Mr. President, it sounds like you don't want me to come to dinner with you." Zell said softly.
Incredulity. "Of course not, my boy! I would be delighted to have you over! It's just…from my perspective…it looks like you're injuries will take more then a day to heal…"
Zell snorted. "Pfff. When Selphie gets here, I'll be fixed faster then a Garden at FH."
The President laughed at the joke. "Well, at least your sense of humour hasn't been damaged." The old man stood "Well, I suppose I'd better leave you to it, then. I'd better get back to the tournament. Come to the Presidential house at about seven. Bring you're friends if you wish."
"Wait!"
"Yes?"
Zell hesitated. "Hows…how's Chan? Is he…you know…"
"Dead?" The President prompted. "He was…but the Esthar team was able to revive him. He said he will continue to watch the tournament, rather then go home. He said he wanted to study you're techniques, so the both of you would have a better fight next time you got together in the ring."
"I think I've had enough of Estharians for a while, to tell the truth…but if you see him, say hi for me. And sorry."
The old man chuckled. "I doubt I will see him, but if I do,
then I shall do as you asked. Seven o'clock don't forget." And with that, the
President of Galbadia walked out of the room.
Zell tried to settle back into his bed, relieved with the news, but too many
things rebounded in his brain. What's with the cold shoulder I just got?
Does he suspect out why we're really here? Or is he just scared of me? He
lay there deliberating, a thousand questions rolling around in his brain, the
want to talk to someone suddenly appealing to him more then ever. Irvine?
Selphie? Where are you guys?
The questions were quelled as he heard the door open and close softly. "Selphie? Is that you?"
"Not exactly…" A voice said. A voice that wasn't Selphie.
"What the hell…who are you?" Zell asked, suddenly aware of his current condition. Oh crap. Defenceless. Not cool.
"I know why you're here." The voice said. It sounded distinctly mutual, as if it wasn't male or female. He…or she…must be using one of those voice distorters that came on the black market a year ago, Zell thought. Zell could see, with one blurry eye, a dark blob leaning over him. "You wont stop me in completing my mission. The old man will die…wether you like it or not. And you will not be able to stop me."
"If you're so sure that you will be able to kill him, then why don't you just kill me now?" Zell spat. "I'm right here! Take me out!"
The person seemed to pause. "No…as much as it would help me to make sure you and your friends were dead, I don't think I want to kill you at this moment." The assassin paused once more. "I want to fight you. Not just fight you…beat you. I want to see you on you're knees, begging for mercy. A great Sorceress Hero, begging me to finish him off."
"What the hell for?"
"After seeing what you can do this morning, I think you know. I want to gather the ultimate rush, an adrenaline high unlike any other. You SeeDs call it…Limit Break."
Zell's working eye widened slightly. This person wants to experience a Limit Break? What the hell?! "You don't just get a Limit Break…it takes years of training, discipline…"
"Bullshit!" The assassin spat suddenly. "All it takes is a good battle and the will to survive, the will that overrides anything you've been taught…something you'd know too well, Zell. After all…My Final Heaven has been known as the strongest fighting technique in the world…"
"You want to experience My Final Heaven?!" Zell said incredulously. "Then you got a death wish! No ones gone up against My Final Heaven and lived!"
The assassin snorted. "I think I have what it takes. After all…it's not completely omnipotent, right?"
Zell said nothing. Every time he had been forced to use My Final Heaven, the resulting destruction had taken it's toll on him. Usually in property damage world-wide, but also in physical damage. Zell's body was forced to move so fast, it usually collapsed under itself after the technique was performed, folding like a house of cards.
And, in knowing the attack, he knew it's weaknesses. If a person could…somehow…dodge the attack, then Zell was wide open for the kill. It was meant to be a finishing attack…not a mid-battle manoeuvre.
"Well, I think I'll leave you to heal. I'll be seeing you around, Zell. Remember, I'll have my eye on you." And with that, the assassin left the room, allowing the door to slide closed behind him or her.
Zell grimaced, rage building within him. So close! The guy was so close, close enough to touch! And I was powerless to do anything!! I'm so useless! Well, not any more! I'm coming after you, you son of a bitch!
Weakly pulling the sheets off his body, Zell rolled off the bed and collapsed to the floor, the pain in his legs and arms burning like all the fires of hell. It was like Ifrit had grabbed him by the arms and legs and set them alight. Zell fought through the pain, however, and crawled to the door, his bruised and puffy face set, rage giving him strength.
Making it to the door, leaning pitifully against it, he reached up weakly and pressed the open stud. The door opened immediately, allowing Zell to fall through and collide with the floor of the corridor.
He saw the blobby shape of someone moving down the corridor, and then turn a corner. Grasping a supporting pole lining the wall, Zell managed to pull himself to his feet, his body feeling like it weighed as much as ten Iron Giants.
"Come on…Zell…" He muttered through gritted teeth. "One…step…at…a…time…"
Shakily, he put one foot forward, and began to shift his weight to it slowly. Pain shot up the tired limb, and he cried out with pain and anger and disgust, not wanting to believe how weak he had become.
Somehow he made his way to the end of the corridor, putting one hobbled foot after the other, but by the time he got to the end, the person had been long gone. "Hyne…he could have…walked from the…ramp to my room…and back five times in …the time it took me to get here…" Zell muttered in disgust, sinking to his knees in defeat.
He was breathing heavily, and felt like he had just gone one on one with Ultimicia again. Someone had removed his bones and replaced them with barbed wire. Sweat dripped off his face. He could taste blood in his mouth.
"Zell?!" He heard footsteps clacking behind him, and someone placed a gentle hand on his shoulder as he flopped to the floor. He looked up with his blurry good eye to see someone yellow. "Zell! Hyne, what are you doing out of bed!" Selphie gasped, the usual happiness in her voice replaced with a shocked and worried tone.
"The…the assassin…" Zell mumbled, relieved that someone was here to help. "He…was here…"
Selphie tried to pick the warrior up, grunting with exertion as she tried to lift him up, but couldn't even roll him over. "Hyne you're heavy…" she muttered tiredly. "…I don't have enough strength…to get you to the infirmary…"
"The assassin…know why we're here…spoke to me…" Tears formed in his eyes, and he began to cry. "…I…(hic)…so close…so close…(hic)…to him…(hic)" He couldn't string his words together, and simply bowed his head in shame, allowing his body to go limp.
Selphie brushed a lock of blond hair from his brow and wiped some sweat off his face with the hem of her short skirt. "We'll…we'll wait for Irvine to get back…I'm not quite ready to use magic right now…" She said. "I'm a…little weary myself…we'll just wait for Irvine, and then…we'll talk about it…"
* * *
Zell and Selphie had sat in the corridor for fifteen minutes, not a word spoken between them, before Irvine turned the corner casually. In his hands were two trays – food for the wounded, coughed up by the processor in the Ragnarok's tiny kitchen – which he promptly dropped, the gravy-covered meat splattering against the floor as he bolted for his friends and girlfriend. "Hyne! What happened to you two?! I thought you were in bed?!"
Zell looked up at Irvine with his good eye and sighed. "We've been had." He said, recovered from the exertion of moving. "The assassin was here. Here! I could have gotten him if I wasn't so banged up…"
"Here?!" Irvine exclaimed, moving to Selphie and checking to see if she was all right, before moving over to Zell. "What do you mean, 'here'? On the Ragnarok?!"
"Yeah. Whoever it was, he was using one of those voice distorters so I couldn't tell who it was…and he must've known about the injuries to my eyes, otherwise he wouldn't have bothered…although I'm pretty sure he was wearing a mask, anyways…"
Irvine lifted Zell up, putting his arm under his shoulder and draping Zell's arm over his shoulder. "How do you know it's a he?"
"I don't! I'm just guessing, man. But, once we check the Ragnarok surveillance recordings, we'll be able to tell…"
Selphie stood wearily. "I'd better heal him up." She said quietly. "The faster he's on his feet, the better we can work on this."
Irvine nodded, and they made their way back to the infirmary.
* * *
Green light dissipated from Zell's body, and he opened his eyes, blinked, and rubbed them. He felt like he had slept for a hundred years. "Woo…I feel like a million Gil. No…a billion Gil!" He looked over at Selphie, who was grinning down at him. "Wow Selphie…what's your magic level?"
Selphie shrugged, taking her hands back from Zell's bare chest. "I dunno. Last time I checked, it was pretty high. But I guess the energy I drew from you has boosted it."
"Rad! I feel like I could take on twenty T-Rexaurs!!" He swung his legs off the bed and sat on the edge, pulling off his shirt. He looked down at it. It had gotten pretty tatty and messy during the fight. He could feel the coagulating blood and dried sweat on his face and body. "I'm gonna need a shower and things, guys. Do you mind?"
Irvine, leaning next to the door, waved his hand. "Nah, man. Take you're time." He moved over to Selphie and helped her up. "We'll just go and give you a little space, 'kay?"
"Thanks man." Zell watched as they moved out, Selphie resting her head tiredly on Irvine's chest, and felt a sudden pang to talk to Angel. He realised with a shock that since he had gotten to the tournament that he hadn't thought of her at all. Is that bad? He thought to himself as he threw his shirt into a corner. …Nah, of course not. I've had a lot on my plate, that's all.
* * *
Dressed in his SeeD uniform for the dinner, the dressiest thing he had to wear, Zell tried not to fidget. He hated wearing long pants – he never got the hang of having the whole of his legs covered. He wanted the familiar sneakers and shorts combo that he usually wore. Granted, he thought he looked pretty spiffy when he wore the SeeD uniform…but it still made him feel like a pre-schooler forced to wear something he didn't want to.
Selphie loved her uniform. The dark blue silk material, the shiny bright metal buttons, the chain that was worn with the coat – she loved it all. As usual, her uniform came with a skirt – short enough to be fashionable, long enough to be unrevealing. Ever since she became a SeeD she wore it to every special occasion that she could wear it to.
Irvine, never one to dress up, had simply decided to wear one of his silk shirts, instead of his usual cotton, with his leather coat and riding pants and boots. He had left the shotgun back on the Ragnarok, as well as one of the Vincent Valentines, but had his left Vincent placed in a holster strapped to his belt, and had a small derringer stuffed into his left boot. He never went anywhere unarmed.
Thus dressed, the trio made their way up the Deling city boardwalk, the masses of people a welcome sight. Fresh people, not wanting to see blood and death, like the spectators at the fight. These people were ordinary city-folk.
The SeeDs had about an hour to get to the Presidential House, so they stopped in at a small café opposite the weapon store and sat down for some drinks.
As Selphie went off to get the sodas, Irvine leant close. "Are you sure you still want to do this? Like I said, this might all be Justice's doing!!"
Zell rolled his eyes and sighed. "Look, man, just because he was the last person I saw, doesn't mean it was him. I mean, the cameras showed that none of his personal came on board after the fight at the ramp, and he left pretty promptly after we spoke. I estimate that it was a good fifteen minutes after he left that the person spoke to me. Plenty of time for someone to sneak aboard, deliver their little 'message', and get out, as well as deactivating the surveillance along the way."
When the SeeDs had checked the records of the surveillance cameras, all the cameras recording the pathway to the infirmary had been tampered with, and there had been no sign of any other entry to the Ragnarok nearer the infirmary.
"Which means that; A. it might have been someone we know, B. it might be someone that President Justice knows, C. It was some random dude, or D. it was one of us." Irvine muttered, counting the ideas on one hand. "Well, I sure know that I don't want Laguna dead, and judging by the ordeal that you and Selphie had this morning, you guys don't want him dead either." He shrugged and sighed, resting his chin in his hands. "Maybe you dreamt it, man. I mean, could 'delirious with pain' be a factor?"
Zell shook his head firmly. "No way, dude. This guy was real…all I could see was dark clothing…he was about my height, maybe a few inches taller…but apart from that, zip." Zell punched his left palm with his right fist. "If only he had not used that Hyne-damned voice controller…I could tell who it was."
Irvine shrugged. "Don't beat yourself up about it man. Like I said, there's no point in worrying about it."
Zell snorted. "Easy for you to say. Your not the one who still has four rounds of pain to go through."
"Hey, you have physical pain to go through – you know what kind of mental anguish Selphie and I go through watching you get your butt whooped? It isn't a walk in the park, that's for sure."
Selphie returned with drinks, sodas for Zell and Irvine and a chocolate milkshake for her. She handed out the drinks and sat down. "So…this is going to be some kind of party thing, huh?" she asked, sipping her shake with a straw.
"Huh?" Zell said in surprise. "No…Justice said nothing about it being a party."
"What do you mean?" Selphie said, equally confused. "I asked the lady at the counter where the Presidential house was, and she asked if we were going to the party tonight. I gave her the 'I'm not buying what your selling' look, and she told me that President Justice is holding a banquet for all the people who qualified for the second round of the tournament."
Irvine looked at Zell with a deadpan expression. "Didn't see this coming, did you Zell?"
Zell shook his head, his eyes wide. "No…I thought it would just be the four of us. He said he wanted to talk about Grampa…" He shrugged. "Oh well. At least I get to size up the competition now, rather on the spot tomorrow." He cracked the top off his soda and took a swig. "Oh, hey, the White SeeDs will be there too. I want to see how they went in the tournament as well."
Irvine shrugged, opening his soda too. "I dunno, man…I mean, the girl seems ok, and I've met the dude in the wheelchair…but that Grey guy gives me the heebie-jeebies."
Selphie continued to suck on her straw, looking up at the boys as they deliberated about why and why not Justice could be behind the assassination. She didn't know exactly wether or not the old man was capable of such a heinous act against Sir Laguna – she had never met President Justice – but from what she had heard of him, he seemed like a nice enough guy.
* * *
When the finally got to the Presidential house, a Galbadian solider ran a metal wand over their bodies, looking for any weapons on their persons.
The wand beeped shrilly when it neared Irvine's belt, and the soldier stepped back a little. "Please take off you're coat, sir."
Irvine smirked, taking off the heavy leather coat and unclipping the holstered handgun, handing it to the soldier. "I'll be wanting that back tonight…" Irvine read the mans nametag. "…Wedge, so keep an eye on it."
"Yes, Mr. Kinnes." Wedge said, saluting him and placing the gun in the box with all the other confiscated items that he had gathered from other guests.
Irvine frowned, before being pulled along by Selphie. "How did that bell-hop know my name?" He muttered, confused.
Selphie and Zell rolled their eyes. "Oh come on. 'Biggs n' Wedge'. The Galbadian double. We had to beat them several times whilst in Galbadia." Zell said with a grin. "Even I remember that."
Irvine frowned…before snapping his fingers in remembrance. "Ohhh, those weaklings! I'm amazed they're still alive."
Moving through a hallway with a rich red carpet, the walls adorned with famous faces and former Presidents, the SeeDs walked through two double doors into an enormous ballroom, fully decked out with long drapes and chandeliers. In one corner was a dance floor, which was half full with happy couples and laughing friends, the other corners consisted of round tables, covered in white with large floral centrepieces.
It seemed that there were certain places for the people to sit, and as the SeeDs walk in, they saw the President standing with his daughter by his side, greeting the guests as they came in.
Zell, Selphie and Irvine walked up to the President, Zell wiping his hand on his slacks before shaking the old man's hand. "Mr. President…you didn't tell me that this would be a dancing occasion."
The old man laughed. "Sorry if you got the wrong idea, my friend. I thought it best to invite all the people going to the next round for a party, instead of inviting a select few. This way, we all get to know each other, no bad rivalry between people. It's good to see you in good health." He looked down at Selphie. "And you must be Miss Tilmett." He said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. "That was a very brave thing that you did today. Zell is lucky to have a friend like you."
Selphie giggled and went red in the face, taking her hand away and moving to stand behind Irvine shyly. The President stood tall when addressing the gunslinger. "Irvine. I'm glad to see that you could make it also. No bad business with the door-guard, I hope?"
Irvine shook the old mans hand and shrugged. "He did have to take something…I never go anywhere unarmed."
"The mark of an excellent shootist." The President said, before looking down at Selphie, who peeked shyly from around Irvine's back.
"We're together." Irvine explained with a smile. "She's kinda shy sometimes – but when she loosens up, you can't shut her up!" he said with a smile, before a punch in the small of his back caused him to grimace, and to cause the President to laugh out loud.
Zell walked over to Clara, who was dressed in a one-piece silver ball gown. Complete with diamond earrings and necklace, she looked nothing short of beautiful. "Good evening, Clara." Zell said politely, wiping his hand on his slacks and holding it out.
"Good evening." She replied, shaking his hand evenly. "You're fight was spectacular. I hope that we will meet in the ring soon."
Zell grinned and put his hands in his pockets. "Not one to mess about with idle chatter, are you?"
"Unlike you, Mr. Dincht, I have been brought up with discipline. I live for a challenge. To tell the truth, I'd rather not be here tonight…I'd rather be training."
Zell scratched the back of his neck in dismay. "You know, you should learn to lighten up. You only live once, you know."
The girl looked at Zell with cold eyes, and Zell swore he saw something flash inside them - before looking away. "Please move on, Mr. Dincht. You are holding up the line." She said quietly.
Zell moved on, allowing her her space. He sighed as he moved through the crowd. If she wanted to pull a Squall on him, then that's fine. He knew that she wasn't made of stone. All she needed was a little friendly help, that's all.
But he wasn't here for that. He was here to prevent an assassination…one that her father might have had dealings with. And if that were true…then they probably would fight.
But until then, Zell decided to give her as much space as she wanted.
"Zell!!"
Zell turned, eyebrow cocked, to see July running toward him, her blond hair flowing behind her. She was dressed in a blue dress with a long, flowing skirt, which glittered in the chandelier light. Her eyes were full of happiness as she ran up to him. "Wow! I'm surprised to see you here! I thought they would have disqualified you for sure after doing that in the fight!"
Zell looked down at her, speechless. She looked stunning. "Ah…nah, not me. Celebrity status and all, you know." He mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. What the hell are you thinking, Dincht?
Nothing. This girl is simply a friend. Get over yourself, stupid.
"Come on, you're seated in the same table as ours! All the SeeDs on one table! Mysterious, right?" She grabbed his hand and began to drag him across the room, babbling about how wonderful the room looked, at how she loved getting dressed up on occasions like this, and how everybody looked soooo good…
Finally reaching their seats, Zell found that he would be sitting next to her, the tiny nameplate sitting on his dinner-plate. Zell Dincht.
"I've got to go find Grey, ok?" July said, letting go of Zells hand. "I'll be right back."
Zell watched her go, then sat down with a sigh. Angel…I wish you were here…
Sighing once more, he picked up his nameplate and fiddled with it, turning it in his hands. He turned his head to the side, frowning slightly, as he saw that there was more writing on the back. He opened the little piece of paper fully.
I'm watching you.
He lowered the piece of paper slowly, making sure to keep his face deadpan. Turing slowly in his seat, he scanned the room, looking for anything out of the ordinary.
He saw Irvine and Selphie, dancing along with the rest of the dancers, a fast Irish jig playing.
He saw Clara greeting the newcomers with simply shakes of hands and nods of heads.
He saw President Justice, also greeting guests.
He saw nothing out of the ordinary. Nobody was staring at him; nobody was about to jump out at him armed with a bread knife. The killer was going incognito. The message was simply there to show that he was comfortable with whom he was, and the power that he held over Zell. The element of surprise.
Zell jumped slightly as he felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Grey and July looking down at him. "What are you so jumpy for, Zell?" July asked curiously, Grey not saying anything.
Zell crumpled the nameplate in his hand and put it in his pocket. "Uh…nothing…just, not used to this kind of crowd, ya' know?"
Grey scoffed. "Come on. The great Sorceress Hunter gets cold feet when in a party? Ridiculous."
Zell smiled. "So, how are you, Grey? You won you're fight, obviously."
Grey simply smirked. July grinned. "He went up against one of the Galbadian brutes, beat him fare and square, too! I tell you, you should have seen the faces of the Galbadian team! It was like someone slapped them across the face with a Caterchipillar!!"
Zell chuckled at the joke, but looked at Grey with new eyes. He's tougher then he looks…I hope I don't have to fight him.
"So, Sorceress Hunter, are you going to regal us with fascinating tales of adventure and excitement tonight?" Grey asked sarcastically, draping himself into a seat next to the SeeD.
Zell smiled and rolled his eyes. "Only if you're a good boy."
Grey took the jab graciously, smiling coldly and pouring himself a drink of water into one of the crystal goblets. July frowned. "Grey! Be nice, will you?"
Zell waved a hand. "Nah, it's alright, July. I deal with the cold, sarcastic types every day…" He said with a smile, looking Grey directly in the eye. "You know, you reminded me of someone. At first, I thought it was Squall…but the more I think about it, the more I think you seem like Seifer…"
Grey smirked – then laughed out loud. "Ha! You're comparing me to that warmonger?!"
Zell leaned forward and made a steeple with his fingers. "I never said you are alike…you just seem to act more like him, that's all…too uppity, too full of yourself…and believe me when I say, watch yourself."
Grey sipped the cool water and placed the goblet down slowly. "Or what, Sorceress Hunter?" he said, his voice almost a hiss, his finger running round and around the edge of the glass methodically.
Zell narrowed his eyes. "Or you'll find out that you're not as strong as you think you are."
Grey looked at him for a longer second, his eye narrowed, his finger still running round and around the edge of the glass – before July pulled Zell up from his seat. "Ooo, I love this song! Will you dance with me?"
Zell smiled down at her. "Sure." He nodded to Grey. "Grey."
"Zell."
The two SeeDs walked over to the dance floor, and Zell listened to the song announced to be played by the band. "'Eyes On Me'…that brings back memories…" He said as he put one hand on July's slim hip and grasped her other hand in the perfect waltz position.
"Really?" July asked, looking up at him. "Why's that?"
Zell smiled. "Well…I kinda knew the person who wrote it…or, I know someone who knew the person who wrote it…" He shrugged. "It's kinda complicated, but the point is, I love it. Nice and slow, you can just let the music pick you up and move you…"
Zell suddenly realised that their dance had gone from a waltz position to a mushy position, July wrapping her arms around his hips, burying her head in his chest. He felt a little shock and surprise, but fell into the rhythm of the music all the same, draping his hands around her. What the hell. He thought. It's not as if you're married to Angel or anything…besides, it's just a dance. What harm could a dance do?
July sighed contently. "Do you know the words?"
Zell raised his eyebrows. "I do, actually. It was originally a song, no words, but then Julia wrote words for it…"
"Can you sing it for me?"
Zell cocked an eyebrow. "Uh…you sure you wanna hear me sing? I mean, I'm no soprano, you know…"
She looked up at him with big blue eyes, the kind you find hard to say no to. "Please?"
Zell smiled down at them. What the hell… He whispered them softly into her ear, the words mingling with the song, the verses coming back to him even as he said them.
My last night here for you,
Same old song, just once more
My last night here with you?
Maybe yes, maybe no…
I kind of liked it your way,
How you shyly placed your eyes on me,
Oh, did you ever know
That I had mine on you
Darling, so there you are
With that look on your face
As if you're never hurt
As if you're never down
Shall I be the one for you
Who pinches you softly, but sure?
If frown is shown, then
I will know that you are no dreamer.
So let me come to you
Close as I wanted to be
Close enough for me
To feel your heart beating fast
And stay there as I whisper
How I loved your peaceful eyes on me
Did you ever know,
That I had mine on you.
Darling, so share with me
Your love if you have enough
Your tears if you're holding back
Or pain if that's what it is
How can I let you know
I'm more then the dress and the voice
Just reach me out, then
You will know that you are not dreaming
Darling, so there you are
With that look on your face
As if you're never hurt
As if you're never down
Shall I be the one for you
Who pinches you softly, but sure?
If frown is shown, then
I will know that you are no dreamer.
The song finished, and Zell cleared his throat. He hadn't sung the song in a long time. He only really listened to it alone. His mother had an original record of it. It was one of those things that he didn't want the gang to know about. It was slightly personal.
And he had no idea why he had sung it to the pretty creature in his arms.
(Author note: Writing this chapter, I got the feeling I needed to even out the score a bit, what with the big ass fight in the last chapter. You know, add a little suspense, add a little romance. Plus, I love 'Eyes On Me', by Eva Wong. The last part of the chapter goes for all you romance freaks out there. Now, one simple request – tell other people to read this fic. I mean, I checked my e-mails today, and when I saw three new reviews for FF8 Tournament, I immediately wrote this chapter, I was so excited. So please, Read & Review. It's not a hard thing to do. – Michael Kenny)
