It was their own fault, he reasoned. They had made him into the man he had become, if it hadn't been for them and their infernal meddling, there would have been no need for him to take such drastic measures. It surely was no error of his that had caused his genius to become warped, the workings of his mind to twist and distort into something that both fascinated and terrified him. It is a terrible thing to know you are a madman, though infinitely worse was to know you are a madman and realise you are capable of atrocities beyond compare. The reasoning of a man no longer bound by the constraints of conscience or morals. The reasoning of a former Garden Headmaster. The reasoning of Martine.

His descent into oblivion began with the Sorceress Edea's seizure of Galbadia Garden. To watch as his Garden, his Garden, was appropriated by the very enemy they stood against drove him to despair. With the feelings of helplessness came guilt, with guilt came anger. With the anger came delusion, paranoia and insanity. These were his bedfellows now; these were what he clung to and relied upon. People couldn't be trusted. His children, his SeeD's had turned against him at the request of the Sorceress, the children he loved as his own. The betrayal gnawed on his sanity, leaving his will and his spirit broken.

After the war had been won, after the Garden had been grounded in Galbadia and the student's freed of Ultimecia's will, he'd counted on resuming control of his home. Cid and those SeeD's, the so-called 'saviours of the world', had soon freed him of those notions. He remembered their words with distaste.

"Martine, we simply cannot allow you to continue as Headmaster, not after the 'incident'. You failed to control your students; you gave an order that endangered not only the lives of SeeD's but also the establishment of Garden itself. Irresponsibility of that magnitude cannot simply be overlooked. I am sorry, but it is for the best."

"But, but where will I go? What will I do? Garden is all I have, I live for those kids!"

"And they nearly died for you. The decision has been made; there is no hope they will rescind their decree. I'm sorry, truly I am."

Not. Sorry. Enough. Martine's lip curled into an ugly sneer as the memory washed over him. They'd find out soon enough the reality of crossing him. He was not a man to be trifled with. After they had left him in Fisherman's Horizon, he'd had a lot of time on his hands, time that was spent scheming, plotting his revenge. Though he hadn't thought it possible for his plans to come into fruition, slowly but surely they had grown from the tiny seeds of hate. His disarming charm which had not been enough to secure his return to Garden nevertheless drew a small group of followers to him like bee's to pollen. It had been enough, with his minions came power and influence. Though none of them were truly sure what they were fighting for, they knew that the SeeD's must be punished, it was the only way.

~*~*~

His plan was, by his own admission, sheer brilliance. Destroy the ranks from the inside out, create disillusion and discord and watch them fall with nary a struggle. His background as a scientist, a man of logic and clinical reasoning, had led him to this conclusion, his discernment twisted by inner turmoil and rage. The very reason he had been chosen as a Headmaster now served to work against the establishment that had cast him aside. It was, in his mind at least, delightful irony.

For days and nights he had toiled, striving to swell his ranks through the lost art of clone technology. Esthar had banned the research for both ethical and political reasons; the people refused to accept the army of soldiers that appeared before them with but one face. Martine had latched onto the project with greedy fingers, devouring the knowledge with gusto. It occurred to him one night as two of his 'children' came to him that this knowledge could be used to aid his purpose in a more practical manner, namely the replacement of a prominent figure within the organisation of his enemies. He had toyed with the idea of Cid, before dismissing him in favour of someone the students revered and followed without question. Leonhart.

He'd found Seifer and his cronies wandering aimlessly in the desert, still highly susceptible to suggestion and persuasion, a side effect of their exposure to Ultimecia. And so he had planted the idea to visit Squall in the fertile ground of their ruined minds, gathering the raw material needed to replicate the Garden's dear Commander for him before re-entering Garden. It was a combination of luck and cunning that had paid dividends. The boy had been duplicated, the doppelganger trained and the stage set to swap one for the other. The details of the SeeD exam lodged firmly in his mind, the trap had been laid and his plan had been carried out flawlessly, Squall had been delivered safely to him and his own creation was in place to destroy those that remained.

Martine sighed. It was then that his well-laid plans had fallen into disarray. He cast a cursory glance over the cell, which had once housed the great Squall Leonhart, and now lay pitifully bare. He tossed the food bowl he had forced Squall to endure across the room in a fit of temper, willing the boy futilely to return to his dungeon and brave his torment.

He paused in his rage; a thought washing over him, calming the turbulence that lurked. They would try and find him of course; they would try and best him. He would not sit and wait for the end.

~*~*~

"Just relax, it'll be fine. I'm here with you."

Seifer grinned weakly as Ellone patted his hand. "I know. I still don't like you poking about in my head though."

She raised a mischievous eyebrow. "What is it that you're afraid I'll find?"

"That I've been thinking about you."

Ellone dropped his hand and stared at him suspiciously, unsure whether to drop her guard and take him at his word or raise her defences and brace herself for an assault. He sighed and took her hand, green piercing into brown sincerely. "I have, Elle. You've helped me a lot through what's been going on and…well, y'know?"

"The great Seifer tongue tied?" She teased.

His cheeks flushed. "Yes." He admitted. "Can you blame me?"

"I suppose not. We should press on, this could be important." She sighed.

"Great. Great, great, great. We'd better get on with it then." Seifer grumbled and lay down, peering up at her. "Do your magic, Elle."

~*~*~

Science is the greater magic, more so than the petty elemental conjuring so beloved of Garden.

Martine knew that in combat he had no hope of defeating the youth's, his last illusions that his paltry sword skills and limited knowledge of incantations be enough had been shattered by Ultimecia's defeat. If the most powerful sorceress the world had known could be so easily defeated by these children, what chance would he have against their combined might? Logic determined he'd have more luck trying to ice skate in the fiery pits of Hell. Ego dictated that he was not as foolish as the sorceress, that he would never make the same mistakes, ergo, victory would be his. Rationalism prevailed.

Days, weeks, months were spent honing his skills to deadly perfection, his erudition a labour of love and hatred both. He mixed, he concocted. He went without sleep, stumbling bleary-eyed from one experiment to another. Eventually, he hit a plateau in his home scholarship. He was not so vain as to assume that he had mastered every nuance and intricacy of his art. Recognising the need for outside intervention, he journeyed to Esthar, seeking out the genius of Odine.

The doctor saw mirrored in his new apprentice his own unquenchable thirst for their discipline. Odine knew he could take his obsession too far and he had in place measures to combat this, not least the constant supervision of the president. In Martine though he saw something that frightened even him. He had no such safeguards, his mind was free to run rampant and contrive depraved designs that Odine himself at an earlier stage in his career would have been proud to call his own. Now though, his silence had been bought with threats against his family, threats he was sure Martine would not hesitate to execute. Pupil had surpassed teacher. Odine wished he had noticed the glint of insanity in his disciple's eye before agreeing to bestow him with his lore. He feared the world would pay a terrible price for his negligence.

I know tis short, but next chapter….oooh. though is not written I can smell longness. My word, leave me. Meh.

Thanks: Cloud-123, Vincent Kinneas, Caleb Nova, Squall_Eternally, Nomad (I hate the stupid numbers. You are nomad! Yes!), and Wise Man Domingo. Sorry for the wait guys. Stuff is my explanation, the more long winded version I won't bore you with.