Chapter 3

It was the airy smog that welcomed him as soon as he stepped out of the station and into the glittered city of the darkened Deling skies. Now he knows for sure why the other towns are so small in comparison to Deling. It's because small town folks abandon their homes to contribute additional air pollution to bigger cities like this one.

Aside from the contaminated air, thick enough to make him cough out his lungs, a room to crash was his other concern. If he intends to save what little money he has left, then the Galbadia Hotel would be highly unlikely, not to mention, a ride on the Deling City bus. There must be somewhere cheaper in a place like this, he thought as he began the march around the city in search for a place to stay, and as tired as he was, his head also insisted on spinning.

He searched for what seemed like hours, and felt like he's been doing it all his life. Turning on a corner, he spotted a basement bar and inn that appeared to be in an indecent condition, which he passed by twice in one round. He couldn't agree with the place because of its shabby state. The sign were missing its letters, and the entrance was covered with peeled-off advertising posters over another. But since there wasn't anywhere he could find that is as cheap as this, and not to mention, these kind of places are all that he can afford for the time being, he's almost afraid he might just have to settle with this one. Besides, he'd stayed on more pitiable places than this. He's usually not this stingy on himself. But if he plans to keep steady, he's going to have to be pennywise.

He squared his shoulders and marched downstairs only to disappear behind the swinging doors. The sudden shift of streetlights to the garish bulbs that are nakedly hanging from the ceiling had cast an ominous atmosphere over the place. Seifer spotted the bartender behind a long counter polishing glasses while the few men at the corner table gave him a few curious glances. The music sailing around the room seemed so distant coming from an old, beaten jukebox. The place was almost deserted that aside from an old drunkard and four poker players on the corner, the moths circling the remaining lights and flies over the tables were its only customers. Seifer carried a hostile demeanor, like he usually does when treading on unfamiliar territory, as he moved towards the bartender.

"I believe you lease rooms in here." His statement didn't even bear an intonation of a question. Seifer never took into the habit of asking because he'd always assume he was right.

"That depends on who's asking." The man was deliberately rude; he didn't even bother to look his way but continued to polish his glasses mindlessly.

"Well, I am." He stated. He also wanted to mention that with an attitude like that; he won't likely improve his business.

"Who're you?" Clearly the man was being obstinate and making it evident that he isn't partial to the likes of him.

"Your customer." He didn't want to have to do this, but it always did the trick. Seifer placed his gun-blade on top of the counter and sat on an available stool.

"Weapons aren't allowed in here." From the look on his face, the bartender was noticeably taken aback by the impressive warning.

"I don't really plan on using it. Well, not unless I have to." He shrugged. Seifer played with the lapel of his coat, smugly aware of the other man's wariness. He wore a serious face so he won't see through his bluff.

"Two gils a night and that's as cheap as I can get." The statement was one of apparent defeat. He tossed a key towards Seifer's direction and went about to his task. "Upstairs. The third door to your right. The bathroom's at the end of the hall."

Seifer nodded and placed his payment on the countertop. "Could you keep the music down? I'm planning to get some sleep." He rose from his seat and strode towards his accommodation. Seifer only heard a crash of a glass as he disappeared into the darkness of the stairwell.

Meanwhile

A burly man amongst the game table was surreptitiously studying Seifer from his corner. He had been waiting for this chance for a while and now that it's finally come, he'll give that bastard his just-deserves. After winning the first hand, he withdrew from the game leaving the three game players puzzled and leaving them with no chance of a rematch. Among them was his long-term companion, whom he beckoned to get up. Pushing back his chair he collected his winnings and strode towards the exit, and following behind him was his companion.

"One more game and we would've had twice the amount we have now, you know." He pushed the door open for the both of them and stepped out into the darkening streets of Deling. Cheating at cards at different gaming tables may not be a qualified job, let alone legal, but that's all they seem to be eligible for.

"To hell with that. We're finally getting what we really want." There was no mistaking the hint of malice in his voice.

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At fourteen hundred and a half-hours, Quistis was now sure that she was definitely going to a wedding. She had insisted them to go ahead without her, given that they're already running late. This only prompted Selphie to dress her in the Ragnarok, as they travel over the waters to Deling. Selphie managed to get her ready even as she was instructing Zell in operating the ship while the others were comfortably passing time in the passenger's lounge.

"Looking good!" Selphie was so proud of her work that she had to put her on video. "Wow! I can't believe I managed all this in less than thirty minutes!" She made her way to her camera and began recording. "What do you think Zell?"

The lenses focused itself clear and zoomed in on the pilot. "Squall would flip if he found out you turned his cockpit into a salon." As Zell maneuvered the Ragnarok, he sniffed the air, smelling the faint scent of hairspray that still clung.

"He won't mind. Quistis is my only customer. Just wait til they see her!" Selphie applauded herself for her remarkable job. She turned the camera towards her subject and let the lenses travel from Quistis' toes to her head, in careful study of every new detail on her. Quistis, on the other hand seemed less than comfortable.

"Selphie, I can't thank you enough for what you've done. Now, could you please turn that thing off?" There's just something about cameras that doesn't sit well with her. She wanted to complain about the shoes being the most painful that she's ever worn, the diamond necklace around her neck compelled her to scratch underneath, and not to mention, the indecent neckline that dipped too low for decorum, but she would rather not say anything to thwart Selphie's efforts. This would probably go down on her complaint list as well.

"Oh, but you look absolutely gorgeous! We won't be able to see you this way until another wedding comes up. When stuff like this happens, it needs to be taped." The camera roamed Quistis' figure once again. Selphie had to admire how the thin-strapped, diamond studded sandals elegantly displayed her delicately formed feet. She swelled with pride because she had picked out those shoes herself. God only knows Quistis would probably pick clogs if she were left to do her own shopping. Although the girls all wore the same peach-colored dress, Selphie had to agree that it looked best on Quistis. "Everyone at the wedding is going to want you."

"Yeaheveryone." She echoed her words sarcastically as if to ridicule that comment.

"Oh yeah. Now, let's head down to the passenger's lounge. I just have to show you off." Selphie kept her hold on the camera as she waved Quistis towards the lift.

"Selphie, they'll see me soon enough. And besides, who's going to supervise Zell's flying?" She'd probably say anything to keep her from painfully walking with the shoes she's wearing. Heaven knows how painful it is already standing. On top of that, she'd have to stand for the ceremony. She made a mental note to refuse any dance offers later on.

"Hey, my flying is fine. I'm beginning to feel like a professional." Zell was slightly wounded from the lack of confidence in his piloting, but he immediately brushed it off as he was enjoying himself. No wonder Selphie liked sitting here. Maybe this is why Squall and Irvine don't fly the Ragnarok. It could be too damn addictive. "I'm one hell of a pilot! Right, Selph?" He contradicted his statement when the ship suddenly jerked a little when it grazed a peak of a mountain. "Whoah!" Everyone instantly grabbed a hold of something. Quistis automatically held on to her dress, afraid that it might plunge lower, before she flopped onto a seat.

"Zell!!" Selphie raced towards the pilot seat. "I thought I told you to keep it steady? Now, move! I'm taking over."

Or maybe that's why Squall and Irvine don't fly the Ragnarok. "Aww! This stinks!" He stomped away from the pilot's seat and plopped himself on a chair beside Quistis while he sorely watched Selphie seize the controls.

"Maybe you shouldn't have been too confident." Quistis mumbled, still clutching at her dress. The Ragnarok have never even experienced mild shaking, let alone grazing a mountain under Selphie's control. She realized that everyone in the passenger's lounge must be wondering if Selphie was drunk before flying. And just as she suspected, the lift disappeared, probably to come back up with either Squall or Irvine on it.

"If anyone asks tell them it was just air pockets." Zell said tautly.

"It was too strong to have been air-pockets." Quistis replied. She could now hear the lift coming back up. "Don't worry. Whatever damage you brought onto Squall's ship could be repaired. We're safe, aren't we? I bet he's just going to check if we're alright." She brought on her best reassuring smile.

"Just tell them Selphie was drunk." Zell snickered.

"Hey!" Their pilot suddenly reacted.

Just as expected, the lift escalated carrying, not only Squall, but Rinoa and Irvine in tow. It was Quistis who caught their attention first, amazed at her marvelous transformation. Rinoa smiled and winked her approval, while Squall caught Irvine's mouth open.

"Quistis, you look nice." Irvine said flatteringly. "Even if this place smells like hair-spray, Selphie did a fine job."

Quistis caught her neckline once again and clutched it close to her chin. "Well, Zell was driving by the way."

"Argh! Quistis? I told you, air pockets. And Selphie was drunk!"

"Either way, you'll never fly this ship again." Squall declared, leaving Zell pouting in his seat. "Is everyone alright?" Everyone nodded in response while Selphie waved her reply.

"Well, here we are. I wonder where we can park this thing?" The Ragnarok was hovering over the city, leaving the area under it in shadows.

Squall stood beside the pilot to assist her. "Like we used to. Just outside the city. There's a car waiting for our arrival that will drive us to Deling Mansion."

It annoyed Selphie why Deling hasn't built a landing field anywhere. "I was rooting for a grand entrance." She muttered. "Well, here we go! Let's Pah-tay!" With careful expertise, she landed the airship at it's designated spot.

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Seifer's sleep was suddenly interrupted by his grumbling stomach. He was suddenly hungry. He couldn't avoid the images of mouth watering roasts and steaming rice that floated through his head, followed by a delectable picture of towering cakes and freshly baked pies. He won't get stuffed just by thinking about it. He needs to go downstairs.

He swung his legs out of bed, reached for his boots underneath and made his way to his coat that draped over a nearby chair then he raced for the door. But just before he could twist the knob, it suddenly swung open and hit him the head. He scrambled to grab Hyperion, but his assailant had kicked him in the side. Even with the throbbing pain his attacker had inflicted on him, he managed to swing his legs around to trip the intruder and see his face as he toppled over.

"Biggs??" He held him at the collar while he pinned him to the ground. Seifer should've known. Biggs is the only buffoon, foolish enough to underestimate him. He hauled him up and threw him forcefully towards the ground then Seifer reached for his Hyperion. "I didn't know you wanted to die this much."

"I'd as well be deadnever got a single gil out of working for you. I used to be a Major of the Galbadian army.you asshole!" Biggs never quite got himself together since his service to the Sorceress Lapdog.' He never really landed a decent job after that whole event. The only compensation he can get is to have to teach the kid who made a fool out of him. "I can't believe I took orders from a snot-nosed punk!"

"You still can. Don't ever show your face to me again!" Hyperion was now threateningly aimed at Biggs' throat as Seifer held him by the collar. But before he could throw him out the window, Seifer didn't miss the smirk that crossed Biggs' face, and it was too late when he realized what it meant.

The last thing he saw was a rifle barrel from another unexpected assailant swinging down toward his head.

And then his world turned black as his towering form collapsed to the floor..

"Didn't your Garden ever tell you, not to have your back against the door?" With that said, Wedge helped Biggs to his feet as they now made their way towards Seifer's pockets and duffel bag.

"Who's laughing now? Ha! That punk thinks he knows everything."

"If we only knew he's knocked out that easily, we should've done it five years ago!." Wedge snickered.

"Wait! Did you hear something?" Biggs was sure he heard something cluttered.

"Nope. You must've imagined it." Wedge reached for Seifer's gun-blade and eyed it amusingly. "How much do you think we can get for this?"

"I don't know. Go check what's outside. I'm sure I heard something."

Wedge obediently rose as if he were still taking orders from a major. He cautiously stepped outside the dimly lit hallway, clutching at his rifle tightly. There really wasn't anything to be worried about, because Biggs always hears things that aren't there. By the time he reached the end of the narrow hallway, he was convinced that Biggs was only paranoid.

Wedge made his way back to tell Biggs he was only imagining things again, but he had to admit mistake at the last minute when suddenly he was caught off guard as an arm wound around his neck, and trapped in a painful headlock. He tried to scream for Biggs, but the sound never came, he tried to gasp for air, but it refused to come. Then finally, Wedge had no choice but to succumb into the darkness.

Meanwhile, Biggs had taken that he deemed everything of value to Seifer. Even the Hyperion was now in his possession. He wondered what could be holding Wedge up, and at the same time, he feared that he'd really heard something outside the hall that is now a threat to him. Warily, he withdrew the newly acquired gun-blade as he peered outside the door. He first looked towards the left end and saw Wedge's body lying in a heap. He never got a chance to see the right end as the same rifle barrel that struck Seifer knocked him out cold. Little did the bartender downstairs know, that his inn now held three unconscious men.

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Author's Note: Biggs and Wedgehee hee, those guys remind me of the burglars from Home Alone. Pls. R&R.