(¯`'·.¸(¯`'·. .author's note. .·'´¯)¸.·'´¯)
A point to make: I hate politics. I 'm a republican; what can I say? I like blowing things up. . . and on that note. . .
Well, the fight scene has arrived. I, for one, think that my introduction to the scene last chapter is my best bit of writing so far. I'm sorry, by the way, if this isn't 'up to snuff.' I'm an angst kind of gal, not a fighting, mushy kind.
And just so I can do some pre-planning-to Lemon or not to Lemon? THAT, my friends, is the question. Feedback would be nice on this.
(¯`'·.¸(¯`'·. quistis .·'´¯)¸.·'´¯)
Not a moment later, I was shoved beneath a desk. I braced myself as I was slammed into the hickory wood; half a second later Laguna slammed down next to me; un-holstering his weapon, an Uzi.
My whip was already out, but in such a position, it was no use. Magic.
Laguna cursed as he loaded his gun.
Three men in suits, using a bookcase for cover. Adrenaline pumped into my veins, endorphins, and half a dozen other chemicals. I'd learned that in Garden. I used them to my advantage.
Time slows, in a fight. You learn that in the first fight you get into. It seems a blur afterwards, but when it counts, your mind can think about a million things at once. For me, as I mindlessly cast a Protect spell on Caraway, as I felt someone use Triple on me, it was memories.
. . . The orphanage. . .
A target had Caraway pinned behind an exceptionally large potted plant. Crouching low, Caraway was sniping shots with his pistol. I fished a Regen out of my arsenal and directed it at him.
. . . My first weapon. . .
"Quistis, I need healing!" The person behind me shouted. Was it Laguna? Yes, an ally. 'Curaga.'
. . . Joining Garden. . .
Bullets blew chips of the desk away. I ignored it as wood shavings slammed into my cheek. Caraway. I was here to guard Caraway. I flung an Ultima spell at the opponents, and triple wavered as the spell followed through twice more.
. . . Becoming an instructor. . .
Laguna swore; I glimpsed his arm frozen by a Blizzaga. I grabbed his wrist; 'Cura' was cast three times. He switched his gun to his other arm and continued firing.
A shout of pain. Caraway was hit. My arsenal was getting depleted; 'Curaga.' I flung the spell at the General.
Ward had been near the door; wisely, he'd gone for help. How the mute guard could communicate anything was beyond me.
"Desparado!" Laguna leapt up and lobbed a grenade at the enemy. Weakened by the barrage of bullets and my spells, one the enemy fell. Laguna finished his limit break by peppering the enemy with more shells.
. . . Time Compression . . .
I fished in my spells. Aura! I had Aura?! I flung it upon myself.
Blue Magic rose from my anger. "Degenerator!" I called, leaping to my feet and gesturing at one of the remaining men. He was sucked into a vortex of nothing as Laguna prepared another grenade. I flung myself back into cover.
Caraway was hit. 'Curaga' was used on him three times. I narrowed my eyes, 'Esuna.' Caraway wasn't hurt; why was he slumped over?
"D-desparado!" Laguna swung back up, and the grenade eliminated the last man. I pulled myself up.
Victory.
No time to celebrate.
Caraway was hurt. I knelt by him. "Sir, where are you hit?"
He grimaced. "The wound wasn't healed . . . fatal. . . I should have . . ."
I blinked. Oh, god.
He'd had a fatal wound. A fatal wound could be healed by Curaga, and such, but only under the direction and help of certain GF's. My GF was Shiva, and she knew nothing of healing.
And if he were to die, and we were to use life, the wound would still be there. And he'd just die again.
He'd. . .die.
He grew limp, and collapsed. A pool of dark fluid was forming beneath him.
"Damn it!" I checked his pulse. He was still alive by his labored breathing, but his heart was growing weaker.
'Curaga'
'Mega Potion'
They weren't working.
'Curaga'
I hesitated. . . 'Life'
He was dying.
Laguna appeared next to me. "What's wrong?"
I turned to him, frustrated. "Nothing works; he's fatally wounded. My GF is Shiva; in order to heal him, we need Quezacoatl or Siren here." My usual detached tone of voice must have betrayed a hint of agitation, because Laguna's face immediately looked worried.
"Oh, man . . ." Laguna glanced at Caraway. "We gotta get him to professional help."
I hauled the General's right arm over my shoulder, Laguna did the same with his left. I staggered up under his weight. "What," I paused to catch my breath slightly, "GF's do you have?"
Laguna started leading us towards the door. "Diablos and Bahumut; we gotta get him to Esthar. We can-"
"No. . ." Caraway shifted. I slowed my pace as he attempted to walk. Laguna shook his head.
"General, please, Our technology and medicine is far better than anyone elses." He pleaded.
Caraway wanted to go to Garden. Laguna wanted to get him to Esthar. Esthar was a potentially dangerous country; Garden was neutral ground. I turned to Laguna.
"President Loire, the General is my client. If he wishes to go to Garden, I'm afraid that you cannot force him to Esthar."
Laguna looked at me strangely. I didn't care. Adrenaline was still running in me.
"Fine, but we take the Apocalypse." Laguna motioned to some guy. "It's a hell of a lot faster than anything else.
What could I say? I trust Laguna Loire.
And I didn't have to take the train.
(¯`'·.¸(¯`'·. laguna .·'´¯)¸.·'´¯)
Quistis Trepe was a professional. Didn't she ever break ANYTHING in the rulebook?
She secured Caraway, and not-so-subtly placed her whip on her lap. Ready for anything? Most likely.
Man, this was really, really bad. Caraway couldn't die on me; the blame would inevitably be pinned on Esthar. Didn't really make sense, but that was government. Esthar was finally trying to get involved with the world again; we couldn't have that ruined now.
We might be able to save him in Esthar. The time threshold that allowed GF's to take action was long gone. He was gonna DIE if he didn't go to Esthar, and they knew it. But Caraway had wanted to go to Garden. Quistis had to agree with her client.
No wonder, really. I mean, Quistis was used to Garden, and it was neutral ground. Nothing like home field advantage. Although why she was worried that I'd attack her or anything was beyond me.
I mean, come on. I was thirty-something years old, and she was young and . . . er . . . youthful. In a fight, I wasn't too sure I'd come out on top.
Why was I even thinking this? I programmed the auto-pilot to Balamb; or at least, punched a couple buttons that I HOPED were the auto-pilot. I messaged Ward that he should head back to Esthar, because I was going to Garden. I hung up, and it hit me.
Seriously, I almost staggered, it hit me so hard. Like a bunch of fists pounding at me, when I already had a hangover.
Garden. Oh, man.
We were heading to Garden. Wasn't Squall in Garden?
Yeah, yeah he was.
Damn.
I looked out the window. This trip wouldn't last very long, but I could already tell it would take forever.
Yeah, yeah, I run this topic through almost everyday. Asking myself, 'Why don't you head there now? And tell him?' I never really, REALLY considered it, but then again, I was always to busy for a trip.
And here I was, heading to Garden, with a perfectly valid reason. I could slip in a few hints here and there . . .
No way. I couldn't do that. I mean, if he had to find out, I really don't think . . . well . .
Stop fishing for excuses! I berated myself mentally. You know you have to tell him sometime. Sure, if he hates you, big deal. At least he'll know Raine is . . . was his mother. He'd have no reason at all to hate her. At least he couldn't hate her.
It was really hard to hate someone who was dead.
The sea beneath the Apocalypse spat off seaspray as we grazed the water. We were flying low.
I'd loved Raine. She was beautiful, inside and out. She taken m in, no questions asked, and brought be back to health. Back to life, if you wanted to be poetic about it. Yeah, I'd loved her like nobody's business.
Awkward, at first. We'd been really awkward. I was a fighter, used to doing things, getting things accomplished.
The first week of life with Raine was. . . interesting. My ribs were broken, an arm and a leg busted, not to mention a concussion. I'd been unconscious for two days, and Raine had walked into the room she put me in- to find that I was gone. She'd run downstairs, worried, and found me in the bar making breakfast. She told me I had to stay in bed.
The next morning . . . I made pancakes. I am really super good at making pancakes.
Raine hadn't been too happy that I'd gotten up when she had told me not to. Didn't stop her from eating, but no one can resist my pancakes, so that didn't surprise me.
The next morning I found that I had been tied to the bed with a belt. I could've gotton out of it, but I took the hint.
Raine had done everything she could to make me well again, and . . .
In the end, she was the one who had died, not I. Why death was so unfair was beyond me, I should have died, Raine should have lived. Not I.
Man, that . . . was really, really bad.
Apocalypse's engines began to slow. We were near Balamb Garden.
"Help me, please." My head swiveled. Quistis was trying to get Caraway up. She'd asked for help? I'd thought that she was the proud type.
Maybe that icy personality wasn't her just being snotty. Maybe it wasn't her being proud, better than everyone. Maybe it was a front, like my moron one.
She glared at me pointedly. "Well?" She snapped.
Or maybe . . . not.
With Caraway's left arm leaning on my shoulder, and the right on Quistis's, we headed towards Garden.
I prayed that I wouldn't take the idea of telling Squall his parentage into my head.
(¯`'·.¸(¯`'·. .author's note. .·'´¯)¸.·'´¯)
A really short, bad chapter, but I'm afraid it was inevitable. To clear things up in the fight-
·An Uzi is a small, lightweight machine gun created by the Israeli's. It is one of the smallest automatic weapons we have today, and can fire bullets at great speed.
·A whip is a useful weapon, but with a large wooden desk in the way, it would have been useless.
There you go.
And it has been brought to my attention that I've forgotten the disclaimers. So here it is. Squaresoft is the sole owner of Final Fantasy VIII, not I. Now let's pretend this is tagged to all my chapters, because I refuse to say it again.
Angelus Zion, thank you. You are the first person to ever add me to their Favorite Author list. I'll try to live up to the honor.
A point to make: I hate politics. I 'm a republican; what can I say? I like blowing things up. . . and on that note. . .
Well, the fight scene has arrived. I, for one, think that my introduction to the scene last chapter is my best bit of writing so far. I'm sorry, by the way, if this isn't 'up to snuff.' I'm an angst kind of gal, not a fighting, mushy kind.
And just so I can do some pre-planning-to Lemon or not to Lemon? THAT, my friends, is the question. Feedback would be nice on this.
(¯`'·.¸(¯`'·. quistis .·'´¯)¸.·'´¯)
Not a moment later, I was shoved beneath a desk. I braced myself as I was slammed into the hickory wood; half a second later Laguna slammed down next to me; un-holstering his weapon, an Uzi.
My whip was already out, but in such a position, it was no use. Magic.
Laguna cursed as he loaded his gun.
Three men in suits, using a bookcase for cover. Adrenaline pumped into my veins, endorphins, and half a dozen other chemicals. I'd learned that in Garden. I used them to my advantage.
Time slows, in a fight. You learn that in the first fight you get into. It seems a blur afterwards, but when it counts, your mind can think about a million things at once. For me, as I mindlessly cast a Protect spell on Caraway, as I felt someone use Triple on me, it was memories.
. . . The orphanage. . .
A target had Caraway pinned behind an exceptionally large potted plant. Crouching low, Caraway was sniping shots with his pistol. I fished a Regen out of my arsenal and directed it at him.
. . . My first weapon. . .
"Quistis, I need healing!" The person behind me shouted. Was it Laguna? Yes, an ally. 'Curaga.'
. . . Joining Garden. . .
Bullets blew chips of the desk away. I ignored it as wood shavings slammed into my cheek. Caraway. I was here to guard Caraway. I flung an Ultima spell at the opponents, and triple wavered as the spell followed through twice more.
. . . Becoming an instructor. . .
Laguna swore; I glimpsed his arm frozen by a Blizzaga. I grabbed his wrist; 'Cura' was cast three times. He switched his gun to his other arm and continued firing.
A shout of pain. Caraway was hit. My arsenal was getting depleted; 'Curaga.' I flung the spell at the General.
Ward had been near the door; wisely, he'd gone for help. How the mute guard could communicate anything was beyond me.
"Desparado!" Laguna leapt up and lobbed a grenade at the enemy. Weakened by the barrage of bullets and my spells, one the enemy fell. Laguna finished his limit break by peppering the enemy with more shells.
. . . Time Compression . . .
I fished in my spells. Aura! I had Aura?! I flung it upon myself.
Blue Magic rose from my anger. "Degenerator!" I called, leaping to my feet and gesturing at one of the remaining men. He was sucked into a vortex of nothing as Laguna prepared another grenade. I flung myself back into cover.
Caraway was hit. 'Curaga' was used on him three times. I narrowed my eyes, 'Esuna.' Caraway wasn't hurt; why was he slumped over?
"D-desparado!" Laguna swung back up, and the grenade eliminated the last man. I pulled myself up.
Victory.
No time to celebrate.
Caraway was hurt. I knelt by him. "Sir, where are you hit?"
He grimaced. "The wound wasn't healed . . . fatal. . . I should have . . ."
I blinked. Oh, god.
He'd had a fatal wound. A fatal wound could be healed by Curaga, and such, but only under the direction and help of certain GF's. My GF was Shiva, and she knew nothing of healing.
And if he were to die, and we were to use life, the wound would still be there. And he'd just die again.
He'd. . .die.
He grew limp, and collapsed. A pool of dark fluid was forming beneath him.
"Damn it!" I checked his pulse. He was still alive by his labored breathing, but his heart was growing weaker.
'Curaga'
'Mega Potion'
They weren't working.
'Curaga'
I hesitated. . . 'Life'
He was dying.
Laguna appeared next to me. "What's wrong?"
I turned to him, frustrated. "Nothing works; he's fatally wounded. My GF is Shiva; in order to heal him, we need Quezacoatl or Siren here." My usual detached tone of voice must have betrayed a hint of agitation, because Laguna's face immediately looked worried.
"Oh, man . . ." Laguna glanced at Caraway. "We gotta get him to professional help."
I hauled the General's right arm over my shoulder, Laguna did the same with his left. I staggered up under his weight. "What," I paused to catch my breath slightly, "GF's do you have?"
Laguna started leading us towards the door. "Diablos and Bahumut; we gotta get him to Esthar. We can-"
"No. . ." Caraway shifted. I slowed my pace as he attempted to walk. Laguna shook his head.
"General, please, Our technology and medicine is far better than anyone elses." He pleaded.
Caraway wanted to go to Garden. Laguna wanted to get him to Esthar. Esthar was a potentially dangerous country; Garden was neutral ground. I turned to Laguna.
"President Loire, the General is my client. If he wishes to go to Garden, I'm afraid that you cannot force him to Esthar."
Laguna looked at me strangely. I didn't care. Adrenaline was still running in me.
"Fine, but we take the Apocalypse." Laguna motioned to some guy. "It's a hell of a lot faster than anything else.
What could I say? I trust Laguna Loire.
And I didn't have to take the train.
(¯`'·.¸(¯`'·. laguna .·'´¯)¸.·'´¯)
Quistis Trepe was a professional. Didn't she ever break ANYTHING in the rulebook?
She secured Caraway, and not-so-subtly placed her whip on her lap. Ready for anything? Most likely.
Man, this was really, really bad. Caraway couldn't die on me; the blame would inevitably be pinned on Esthar. Didn't really make sense, but that was government. Esthar was finally trying to get involved with the world again; we couldn't have that ruined now.
We might be able to save him in Esthar. The time threshold that allowed GF's to take action was long gone. He was gonna DIE if he didn't go to Esthar, and they knew it. But Caraway had wanted to go to Garden. Quistis had to agree with her client.
No wonder, really. I mean, Quistis was used to Garden, and it was neutral ground. Nothing like home field advantage. Although why she was worried that I'd attack her or anything was beyond me.
I mean, come on. I was thirty-something years old, and she was young and . . . er . . . youthful. In a fight, I wasn't too sure I'd come out on top.
Why was I even thinking this? I programmed the auto-pilot to Balamb; or at least, punched a couple buttons that I HOPED were the auto-pilot. I messaged Ward that he should head back to Esthar, because I was going to Garden. I hung up, and it hit me.
Seriously, I almost staggered, it hit me so hard. Like a bunch of fists pounding at me, when I already had a hangover.
Garden. Oh, man.
We were heading to Garden. Wasn't Squall in Garden?
Yeah, yeah he was.
Damn.
I looked out the window. This trip wouldn't last very long, but I could already tell it would take forever.
Yeah, yeah, I run this topic through almost everyday. Asking myself, 'Why don't you head there now? And tell him?' I never really, REALLY considered it, but then again, I was always to busy for a trip.
And here I was, heading to Garden, with a perfectly valid reason. I could slip in a few hints here and there . . .
No way. I couldn't do that. I mean, if he had to find out, I really don't think . . . well . .
Stop fishing for excuses! I berated myself mentally. You know you have to tell him sometime. Sure, if he hates you, big deal. At least he'll know Raine is . . . was his mother. He'd have no reason at all to hate her. At least he couldn't hate her.
It was really hard to hate someone who was dead.
The sea beneath the Apocalypse spat off seaspray as we grazed the water. We were flying low.
I'd loved Raine. She was beautiful, inside and out. She taken m in, no questions asked, and brought be back to health. Back to life, if you wanted to be poetic about it. Yeah, I'd loved her like nobody's business.
Awkward, at first. We'd been really awkward. I was a fighter, used to doing things, getting things accomplished.
The first week of life with Raine was. . . interesting. My ribs were broken, an arm and a leg busted, not to mention a concussion. I'd been unconscious for two days, and Raine had walked into the room she put me in- to find that I was gone. She'd run downstairs, worried, and found me in the bar making breakfast. She told me I had to stay in bed.
The next morning . . . I made pancakes. I am really super good at making pancakes.
Raine hadn't been too happy that I'd gotten up when she had told me not to. Didn't stop her from eating, but no one can resist my pancakes, so that didn't surprise me.
The next morning I found that I had been tied to the bed with a belt. I could've gotton out of it, but I took the hint.
Raine had done everything she could to make me well again, and . . .
In the end, she was the one who had died, not I. Why death was so unfair was beyond me, I should have died, Raine should have lived. Not I.
Man, that . . . was really, really bad.
Apocalypse's engines began to slow. We were near Balamb Garden.
"Help me, please." My head swiveled. Quistis was trying to get Caraway up. She'd asked for help? I'd thought that she was the proud type.
Maybe that icy personality wasn't her just being snotty. Maybe it wasn't her being proud, better than everyone. Maybe it was a front, like my moron one.
She glared at me pointedly. "Well?" She snapped.
Or maybe . . . not.
With Caraway's left arm leaning on my shoulder, and the right on Quistis's, we headed towards Garden.
I prayed that I wouldn't take the idea of telling Squall his parentage into my head.
(¯`'·.¸(¯`'·. .author's note. .·'´¯)¸.·'´¯)
A really short, bad chapter, but I'm afraid it was inevitable. To clear things up in the fight-
·An Uzi is a small, lightweight machine gun created by the Israeli's. It is one of the smallest automatic weapons we have today, and can fire bullets at great speed.
·A whip is a useful weapon, but with a large wooden desk in the way, it would have been useless.
There you go.
And it has been brought to my attention that I've forgotten the disclaimers. So here it is. Squaresoft is the sole owner of Final Fantasy VIII, not I. Now let's pretend this is tagged to all my chapters, because I refuse to say it again.
Angelus Zion, thank you. You are the first person to ever add me to their Favorite Author list. I'll try to live up to the honor.