"Peace is not only better than war, but infinitely more arduous" ~ George Bernard Shaw

Mise en Scene
Cities full of hatred, fear and lies
Withered hearts and cruel, tormented eyes
Scheming demons dressed in kingly guise
Beating down the multitude and
Scoffing at the wise
Can't we raise our eyes and make a start?
Can't we find the minds to lead us
Closer to the heart? (Rush)

Laguna Loire, reigning President of the Esthar continent, gazed unseeing out the large window of his expansive office. He listened with half an ear as Esthar's elected Defence Minister voiced his concerns about the Timber incident. It wasn't that the symbolic ruler did not care about the events; more like he didn't know what he was expected to do about them.

            This whole president gig had turned out to be a lot more complex than he had originally counted on. He had not meant it to be a permanent position in the first place. Just planned on staying a few years at most to help the citizens get back on track. Eighteen years later he still had his butt planted on the proverbial chair, and not without regrets.

            "Mr. President, this matter needs to be addressed with parliament without delay. Galbadia needs to be shown that it cannot get away with such flagrant ethical violations."

            That comment caught Laguna's meandering attention. His gaze swung from the tinted glass to the tall man stood in front of his desk. Waylon Murphy was not one of his favourite people. He could barely even call him an ally. The other man's abrupt manner had always intimidated him. Laguna doubted he even had a sense of humour. It was a wonder to him how the minister had been steadily elected in the past three campaigns without it.

            "Ethical violations?" the president echoed. Baffled, he reached up to scratch the back of his head. Several long strands of black hair slid out of his loose ponytail as he did so to fall in front of his eyes.

"All I've heard recently is good reports. The elections are scheduled for next month with General Caraway's provisional government monitoring the campaigns." This time both hands lifted into the air in a helpless shrug. "Corruption is as low as it can get. Isn't it?"

 Murphy looked affronted. "All may appear that way but, with all do respect, sir, things are never as they seem." The large, broad-shouldered gentleman clasped his hands behind his back as he spoke. His voice remained gruff and his brow furrowed.

"Unfortunately the Galbadian situation cannot continue to exist as is much longer. Events are escalating far beyond our analysts' expectations. Our informants have uncovered evidence of possible conspiracies within the provisional government. Given that we can hardly trust Caraway's agents to properly inspect the electoral procedure."

            Now Laguna's forehead was crinkled. "Are you sure? Galbadia has been nothing but cooperative during the past three conferences as far as I can see. Maybe the agents are wrong."

            He sat back in his chair and rubbed at his chin. This was the first he had heard of anything amiss in the western state. The compromises, he'd been told, we going very well. Except for the Timber affair everything had been moving along smoothly. Yet now he wasn't sure what to believe.

            The defence minister cleared his throat. With a twist of his square-cut jaw he straightened his shoulders and faced the president directly.

            "Be that as it may I would not think it is a chance Esthar should be willing to make. In order to secure peace and our position in the world government every inch of the Galbadia regime must be scrutinized. Esthar cannot risk a toppling of the balance of power."

            Laguna fiddled with a freed thread on the arm of his leather chair. Not for the first time he felt way out of his league. His specialty was writing about events, not directing them. "What do you think we should do?"

            Waylon Murphy's clear green eyes gleamed. He unclasped his hands to slip them into the front pockets of his uniform jacket instead. Military strategy was where he excelled. It had been his profession for thirty years before he had entered the political sphere eleven years ago.

            "Increase the number of troops within the capital and at the borders. Send more intelligence teams to investigate the conspiracies, as well as look into the Timber bombing. Take over the supervision of the elections. Insure further diplomatic councils are held with the utmost security in mind."

            "Okay." Laguna nodded. That didn't sound so bad. Pretty reasonable as far as he could see. "Why don't you bring it up at the parliament sitting tomorrow? See what the prime minister thinks?"

            Murphy inclined his head. "Then I assume I can be sure of your support, sir? Forgive my candour but such matters need to be dealt with directly. Many of my fellow ministers are reluctant to become involved in global affairs and may provide resistance."

            "Ah, sure, Mr. Murphy. I don't see why not." Laguna shrugged and shifted forward. "I'll do what I can."

            Which was very little, he thought. His role as president was more symbolic than influential.  Essentially, the only power he had was about as strong as a signature on a proffered document. In truth he had little say about the nature of anything he had signed since taking on the job. Esthar's parliamentary system featured a strong legislature that was quite adept at running itself.

            What might have been considered a smile on another but looked more like a grimace on Murphy passed over the other man's rugged face. "Excellent, Mr. President. My office will keep you updated." 

            "Thanks." When the defence minister continued to look at him expectantly Laguna coughed and waved a hand. "You can go. I'm sure you are busy."

            Once Waylon had departed Laguna slumped down in his seat. Stretching his legs out under the desk he made use of the reclining backrest.

That had not been so bad, he reassured himself. Despite grumblings in the cabinet Murphy seemed like a practical man. It was time Esthar paid a little more attention to global affairs anyway. One couldn't keep his head shoved under the grass forever. Or was that the sand?

Deciding it didn't matter he folded his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. After all this hard work he figured he deserved a nap.

"So, you folks from around here?" The driver pf the lorry glanced from the road to bestow his passengers with the full benefit of his tobacco-stained teeth. The corners of his eyes wrinkled. The lines that splayed across his face with the action proved it was a common expression.

Quistis forced her body to relax. There was nothing menacing in his tone and his question was harmless enough. Typical for someone in his position. The air in the cab was tepid and reeked of sweat and excrement. Vile, to be sure, but not alarming. She fidgeted clumsily, careful to maintain ample distance between herself and the man. She was not a snob, she told herself. She was simply being cautious.

"No. We're actually on our way back to Balamb." There seemed to be no real reason to lie. It was not like he was a threat to two trained mercenaries.

"You don't say," the man drawled out. Quistis couldn't place his accent. It was different than any she'd ever encountered. Came out like a mix of Nanchucket twang and Long Horn nasal. Odd, but not totally displeasing to the ear.

"That's a long way from Lallapalooza. Whatcha doin' this far south of Galbadia?"

Seifer didn't trust him. For the first time he was beginning to think the whole hitchhiking thing was a mistake. Sure and he appeared like the average yokel, transporting his homegrown fertilizer to sell in Timber. But he couldn't be positive these unassuming farmers from the outskirts of society were not the ones to suspect the most. His instincts were screaming that something was wrong. Who knew how far they would go to protect their land? He was not sure the man's queries were entirely conversational.

"Work-related." He heard Quistis reply. "The rest of our team is waiting in Timber."

Seifer bit back a groan. Why didn't she just give him their full names and bios? He satisfied his frustration by giving her ankle a sharp nudge. When she turned to regard him with frown he rolled his eyes toward the driver. She shrugged and looked away.

"What's going on in a pokey city like Timber that you youngsters could be interested in? Not much jobs available now with things being as they are." The inflection in his tone had changed. It was slightly harder, more insistent.

He lost the Nanchucket and picked up a touch of something else that she couldn't quite place. Whatever it was Quistis had a feeling he was no longer making idle chitchat.

Seifer kicked her again with greater force and this time she acknowledged its purpose.

"Hotels." It was Seifer who answered this time, lying with practiced ease. "We work for the Balamb tourist board and have been conducting research across the continent. Surveying vacationers and business travellers."

"Huh."

They were just outside the canyon now, driving along the plateau known as Shenand Hill. Quistis noticed their driver's hands tighten on the steering wheel. Beneath the dark hair his knuckles were white. She glanced up and was startled by the snarl on his lips. It was barely detectable through the thick stubble that thrived around the lower half of his face.

"If that's true," the man nearly spat out. "Then why the hell was you driving a Garden rig?"

Her eyes widened at his gnashing tone. Before she had a chance to respond his flannel-covered arms jerked to the left. Tyres screamed at the jagged turn. Quistis hung onto the dashboard for survival as the truck barrelled over the meridian and off the road onto the crimson rock. Next to her Seifer jerked in his seat. She shot a glance at her driver and caught the glazed determination in his dark eyes.

"What the hell are you doing?" she heard Seifer shout sooner than she could get her breath back. "Are you trying to kill yourself?"

"Not today." The man's arms were steady as he accelerated across the hill, navigating past boulders and trees. "Got something else in mind."

Regaining control of her coordination Quistis made a grab for the wheel. When that proved fruitless she unbuckled her seat belt and slumped down on the bench. Ignoring her clambering teeth she ground her jaw and slid her foot closer to that of the driver's. Her thoughts were scattered and she acted on instinct, grinding her heel into the man's foot with all her might.

"Shit!" Distracted and in slight pain he let up his hold on the pedal. That was all the opportunity she needed.

Adrenaline soaring she shoved into him, loosening his hold on the wheel. She felt Seifer lean over her and reach his arm around the vinyl seat to grab the back of the man's neck. He squeezed his fingers and the man growled, head thrusting back against the Plexiglas window.

Quistis hurled her weight into him again to plaster him against the door. When his hands released the steering completely she was ready to grab it. Moving quickly her foot found the brake and she pumped on it, hard, while frantically steering away from the fast approaching tree.

All was not over yet. The man bucked his body in an attempt to remove Seifer's hand, which caused Quistis to hurtle forward. The truck lurched to the side but her foot remained pressed to the brake, slowing their speed considerably. She let out a grunt as her chest hit the heavy wheel and her forehead knocked against the rear view mirror. Hands free the man was able to heave her to the other side of the cab and take charge of the controls.

The vehicle gained speed now as he drove them blindly forward. Quistis' limbs tangled with Seifer's as she tried to recover her position. Maintaining his clenched grasp on the man's thick throat, Seifer reached over with his other arm to release the catch of his seat belt. Concentrating, he felt around the door for the handle while Quistis fought with their driver for control of the wheel.

The lorry jerked left and right in a frenetic pattern. Breathing hard, Quistis flung back her head and whammed him below the belt with her fist. He doubled over, howling in agony.

Seifer took advantage of the larger man's weakened state to tug open the door and use his strength to ram him out of the racing vehicle. Falling from the spot she had taken in Seifer's lap while battling with their attempted killer, Quistis plonked herself in the driver's seat and slammed on the brakes.

Only then did she look up. The Lallapalooza River tumbled beneath the overhang of the canyon just metres in front of them.

"Fuck!" Seifer shouted next to her, clenching his fists and preparing his body for the cold wave that was going to engulf his body. There was no time to abandon ship.

She tried to wrench the tyres away from the water but her foot on the brake rendered any attempt at steering useless. They were going to get wet, and soon.

Rubber wailed against rock as the truck skidded along the ground. Quistis closed her eyes and let go of the wheel just as they drove straight into the water.

Once they hit, she held her breath. The river water didn't soak them immediately but as the truck crashed it poured through the open door, sinking the vehicle further into its depths. Pulling her body away from the wheel she kicked her feet against the floor of the cab and fought to keep herself above water.

Seifer followed after her but he wasn't able to keep his head above the surface. Heaving himself free from the metal he pushed himself up to where he could see Quistis treading water. Rising into the air he released his lungs and shook off his hair.

Quistis coughed up some of the water that had forced its way in through her nose and pushed back her sopping hair. She faced Seifer then, breath coming out in short gasps. They eyed each other for a moment before she turned away and swam toward shore. Still coughing she sat upon the warm rock to allow her pulse to return to its natural rhythm. She bent her legs and placed her head between her knees, eyes closed. Only now did she think about what had just happened.

Dropping down next to her, Seifer hacked up his own mouthful of river water. The liquid tasted gritty in his mouth and he figured it was most likely polluted. Leaning over the side of the rock he spat what he could back into the river. It was beyond disgusting. He'd kill for some mouthwash right about then.

Still breathing deeply, he sat back with his legs bent in a similar position to Quistis' and looked over at her. She relaxed now, arms straight back behind her and face titled toward the sun with her eyelids lowered. Rivulets of water dripped down her cheeks and arms. Her uniform was drenched and clung to her bare thighs. Seifer moved his gaze back to the river, brushing an arm over his brow to remove the drops of water that clung there. His sweatshirt was equally wet so he shoved up the sleeves.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, listening to the rumble of the tributary and the quiet breeze against the cliffs. It was only her sigh that he him glancing over again.

She sat up now, legs folded together at her side. Strands of her hair had already begun to dry in the warmth of the late afternoon sun and hung about her face in a dishevelled fashion. He imagined he appeared just as bedraggled, wet denim fitting snugly against his legs, his polyester sweatshirt sticking to his heated skin in all the wrong places. His own hair was also drying in the sunshine, causing his scalp to itch in the most uncomfortable manner.

"Well, that was interesting." Quistis observed, putting a hand to her forehead in weariness. She looked at him. "What do you say we never do that again?"

Unfortunately, she had spoken too soon. The disjointed beat of laboured breathing reached their ears at the same time and both looked over across the red sandstone plain. Their former adversary staggered toward them, a shimmering blade brandished in one hand. Obviously he was not to be put off so easily. A fleeting regret passed through Quistis' mind that it was a shame she had not had the presence of mind to run him over with his vehicle.

With reluctance they rose off the ground to face the armed man. Seifer doubted it would take long to finish him off, thank Hyne. He did not have the energy for wrestling in the dirt.

"Thought you'd get rid of me quickly, eh?" The man grinned at them and swung his knife through the air in what he must have thought was a threatening manner. "Steal my truck and run off to alert your cronies. Well, guess what? This is not your lucky day!"

Quistis and Seifer exchanged glances. This guy would be easy pickings. She put her hand to her hip where her whip was still secured. The water had done little to loosen its fastenings.

Their former driver took a few lumbering steps forward. "You isn't getting away from me this time. Damned mercenaries, blaspheming against the Great Hyne. You'll all get your comeuppances. Every last one of ya!" He slashed with the blade again as he ranted, lurching forward.

The man is a loose cannon, Quistis thought. His erratic behaviour made her hesitant to react. She couldn't judge her timing and did not want to alert him with any sudden movements. Next to her she sensed tension building in Seifer. Her brain sent off alarm bells.

"Hyne is malevolent against those who stand against Him. He will not suffer you to live. It is my duty, as a direct descendent to follow in His holy path and destroy all those who threaten His will. Especially you of Garden, foul sorceress-killers, you are." The man was close enough now Quistis could smell the tobacco on his breath. "Acting against Hyne's divine commands. It is time to face your true enmity. I shall smite thee!"

When he lunged forward Quistis had her whip in her hand and sent it slicing through the air to snap along his tender throat. Seifer jumped into action as well, grabbing the wrist that supported the dagger and twisting it. With a howl the man let go.

Quistis attacked with her whip again, cutting smooth lines across his browned skin. His head snapped back, spewing a trail of blood into the slight breeze. Seifer stepped forward and slammed his fist into the man's solar plexus. When he fell like a dead weight, he let go of his arm and stepped back. The sound of bone smacking against hard rock had both of them wincing.

Impassively they regarded the heavyset man who lay face-first on the rock. She crouched down and checked his pulse. Faint but still there. She rose to her full height, keeping her eyes on their fallen attacker.

"Should we kill him?"

"Nah." Seifer did not sound surprised at her question. He looked down at the man with contempt. "Not worth the effort. I got nothing but pity for the pathetic bastard."

Quistis nodded and turned away, sliding her whip back into its familiar place. "He's from Holy Glory Cape. I didn't recognize the accent at first." She refocused her attention on Seifer. "It's an island belonging to Dollet, settled by Hyne extremists. I've never encountered anyone this radical before, though. Most of the time they act as peaceful missionaries."

He shrugged with one shoulder and glanced away from her penetrating stare. "Guess I just bring out the best in people."

She frowned and took a step in his direction, shaking her head. "I wasn't implying that you had…" Her voice trailed off when he shoved his hands in his pockets and twisted away.

            "Forget it, Trepe." He began to trek across the sandstone. "We have a long walk to Timber."

            Sighing, Quistis relaxed her brow. She didn't know why she even bothered.

            "Uh, Almasy?" She let her lips curve into a smirk when he angled his neck back to look at her. "The road's that way." She gestured with a thumb behind her.

            His answering scowl caused the smirk to grow into a grin. One more for her.

            Duffle bag slung over his shoulder Zell strolled jauntily toward the city gates of what he considered his hometown. He'd just been informed of Balamb Garden's return to the Alcauld Plains an hour ago and thought he might as well return early to see what was up. After two weeks spent on leave enjoying the home cooking of his mother and the quiet atmosphere the peaceful city had to offer, he was ready to take on the obligations of a SeeD once more.

            The months after the final defeat of Ultimecia had been taxing on his spirit. Most of it was depleted in conference rooms and meeting halls. They had all needed a break. And since his talents had not been required for the Timber negotiations Zell had been granted furlough for as long as the moveable Garden remained on the western continent. It was supposed to have been three weeks but he didn't mind returning sooner. He was anxious to get back to work. And, though he'd never admit it out loud, fourteen days was more than enough time to spend with his overprotective maternal figure. The war had turned him from a teenager into a man and a guy got used to the freedom of being on his own.

            As he neared the car hire several young females holding clipboards accosted him. They were not from Balamb; that he recognized right out.

            "Hi there!" A perky blonde dressed in a smart blue pantsuit greeted him with a brilliant smile. "Do you have a moment to help those in danger of utter destruction?"

            Zell blinked. His mind blanked and he took a step in retreat, scratching the back of his neck. "Uh, I guess so."

            "I just knew you'd understand!" The petite redhead at his elbow gushed. "You looked like a decent human being. As soon as I saw you I said to Ginny, doesn't he look like a nice guy? And I was right!"

            The blonde, who he assumed must be Ginny, nodded emphatically. "So will you sign our petition to end the breeding and slaying of innocent creatures within Gardens across the world?" She continued to explain when he gave her a confused look.

"Military schools like Balamb and Galbadia actually breed creatures for the sole purpose of killing them. Can you believe that? It's totally inhumane. A modern world like ours should not allow such cruel torture. It is simply disgusting how this activity has been allowed to progress for so long. So we have decided to take a stand!" Ginny cocked her head, curly ponytail swinging cutely behind her.

"You will join our mission, won't you?" She then unleashed her secret weapon. The power of her soft brown eyes had most males falling at her feet within seconds. Zell Dincht was not immune.

Rubbing harder at the back of his neck, he felt a blush begin to heat his cheeks. He was at a loss for words. The redhead piped up when he hesitated.

"Just think of those poor little creatures, wandering around, happy, healthy, unsuspecting, then WHAM!" She smacked her hands together in front of his face and made him jump. "Dead at the hands of an evil, selfish bastard."

His eyes widened in alarm. "B-but I work at Garden." He stammered, glancing first at one then the other female. "I…I am a SeeD."

The girls looked at each other, exchanging smiles of eager elation. This was better than they had expected! Ginny's mouth puckered in a squeal of excitement. Her friend jumped into the air and clapped her hands.

"That's perfect!" Ginny told him. "Now we have someone on the inside! Sign here." She thrust the clipboard into his hands, pen dangling on a string over the side.

Zell was simply gob smacked. Not wanting to disappoint them and doubting it was cause too much trouble he scribbled his name in an empty space then handed the board back over. The girls huddled together to observe his signature and squealed in delight once more.

"Thanks a million!" bubbled Ginny. She looked over at her companion then back at Zell. Her brown eyes now glowed into his. "Heeey! Could you get us in to Garden? That would be awesome!"

"Oh, wow! You're the best, Mr. Dincht!" The redhead chimed in. "We've been trying, like, forEVER. That's awful nice of you."

"What do you say we meet you out front tomorrow? You can introduce us to the headmaster directly!" The girls whooped again at Ginny's suggestion. "I can't believe how lucky we were to run into you like this! See you later, Mr. Dincht! You won't regret it!" With several repeated enthusiastic waves the girls were off down the street, squealing and running up to another hapless pedestrian.

Zell remained in one spot scratching his head and wondering what had just hit him. He felt like his entire system had just been overhauled by a monsoon. With a shake of his head he slowly spun on his heel and made his way down the road leading to Garden. The entire forty-five minute journey was spent in a daze.