A/N: Mm, sorry for the little wait. It's been a god-awful couple of weeks
. . . Though . . . some reviews would make me feel better *hopeful eyes*
Uh, just so you know, there's a new character who's going to be mentioned
in this story, and she's actually a real friend of mine (Triss). Though
she's not in this chapter, I want y'all to know she's actually a real
person. And because I killed her in a previous chapter (under her real
name: Crystal Tan) she and a friend of ours wrote a story in which they do
nothing but torture me for nine chapters (it's EXTREMELY graphic). The
story's under the Super Smash Brother's section of this site and it's
called How to Kill a Certain Jamie (that's my real name). Kuja makes a
quick cameo in chapter six or something if you want to check it out. To
get back at me, Triss and Cho (the other friend) pitted my favorite
characters against me (Kuja, Sesshoumaru, Nuriko, etc . . .) So check it
out if you're in the mood to get graphic details of my internal organs.
Oh, and they call me Scum in that story. Lovely . . .
Disclaimer: If I owned Final Fantasy I wouldn't be writing fanfictions. I would be playing a hard-ass game of hot-fudge water polo instead . . . Heh.
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"Know me, broken by my master."
- Would, Alice in Chains
". . . Do you see that?"
"What?"
"That gleam. There, on the horizon. Kinda like a speck of sunlight . . ."
The little mages all narrowed their glimmering amber eyes and exclaimed simultaneously with delight.
"I see it! I see it!" Nichio-bi cried. "That sparkle! It's really cool!"
"Awesome!"
". . . What is it . . .?" Kayo-bi queried suddenly.
All yellow eyes turned expectantly onto Mr. 41, who was grinning with satisfaction beneath his hood.
"That, my boys, is the great sword of Alexandria Castle. Which means we're but a week away from getting there,"
The children cheered.
"We'll get to see Dad again!" Mokuyo-bi cried, clapping his gloved hands together.
"I'm so excited!"
Mr. 41 listened to the delighted murmuring with some regret. /I only wish we were visiting Alexandria under less grim circumstances . . ./
He had been apprehensive for quite some time over the current matter at hand. How would Zidane take the news of his sister's disappearance? Would he want to run out immediately and save her? Or would he leave it to the authorities until it was too late? Which was worse?
"Oh, Mikoto . . . Where could you be . . .?" Mr. 41 queried sadly.
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Mikoto's eyes narrowed at first with suspicion when Ummei entered the boiler-room once more. He was hunched strangely and Mikoto suspected he'd been whipped. But immediately she saw that wasn't the case (for there was no blood) and she became wracked with concern.
"Ummei, what's wrong?"
The purple-eyed woman in the corner of the room looked worried as well. She could read anyone as well as she could read a book.
Ummei's green eyes turned miserably onto the prisoners and he sat down painfully slow.
". . . I'm leaving . . ." he said softly. Mikoto cocked her head.
"What?"
"I'm leaving. Something's come up and Garland's sending me out of the ship for awhile on a mission . . . I'm sorry . . ."
The purple-eyed woman smiled sympathetically. "What's there to be sorry for? It's not your fault,"
Ummei bit his lip, rubbing habitually at the sore spot on his shoulder where Drakja had whipped him for "allowing" the tyrant to make a fool of himself.
"It's just . . . Garland wants me to do something else first . . ."
". . . And what's that . . .?"
As if in response to this question, the door was thrown open and two male geonomes stormed into the room, furred tails flicking.
"You're comin' with us!" they snarled, grabbing the wine-eyed woman by her arms and hauling her violently to her feet. She shrieked and protested, but one of the geonomes smacked her and she shut up immediately.
Mikoto pulled furiously on her shackles, crying out as she attempted to throw herself at the geonomes that shoved the other prisoner to the floor and began to drag her out the door by her hair.
"Ummei, stop them!" Mikoto sobbed, turning angrily to the omega. But she noticed, then, that he was shaking violently. Something was happening . . . Mikoto's sapphire eyes narrowed.
"Ummei, what's going on . . .?"
The geonome clutched himself, shaking uncontrollably. "Mikoto, I - "
They both froze. Drakja was standing in the doorway, cloaked in threatening shadows. His eyes were blazing for the kill.
"Ummei . . . It's time . . ."
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"I don't know how you can stand it, man . . ." Eiko moaned, glaring daggers at the sorcerer perched beside her. "Are you the only one not shivering here?!"
Kuja shrugged, gazing away from Eiko as if the little Summoner was not worthy of his presence. She smacked at the rock he sat upon and growled.
"It's so cold! I'm dying here!"
The others, who were seated around a small fire in the frozen tundra looked equally as miserable. Zidane, however, was somewhat more energetic. This only led the group to believe it was another one of those "genome-things."
The airship ride to the Forgotten Continent had taken only twelve hours (which was pretty good by airship standards). The crew made sure the Hildagarde 3 flew past Esto Gaza where the Indomitable was rumored to have landed and then proceeded to hide it strategically in the tundra where it would be camouflaged by the snow. From there, the mismatched team grabbed all their weapons and supplies and began to journey the frozen mass of land in search of Garland's airship.
The location they sat, huddled and freezing in had no mountains, hills, trees, or bodies of water to speak of. There was only miles and miles of barren, white snow until the empty whiteness hit the transparent horizon. The wind blew mercilessly in the emptiness, scorching their skin and forcing the group to stop and build camp within a matter of hours.
On the short journey, however, the crew had been rather disturbed to find many familiar foot-impressions and trails in the snow.
Mist monsters . . . The continent was teeming with them. They had been attacked several times and now, seated vulnerably on the plain, Fratley and Beatrix were stationed somewhere out in the tundra on guard and killing Mist monsters when necessary. There was no possible explanation for how the creatures could possibly be alive. The Iifa Tree was dead and producing no Mist. Any remaining monsters had been killed by Kuja and Zidane themselves years back. And yet Mist had been reappearing all over Gaia almost as bad as before. It was obvious that after finding Garland's ship all this would merit a trip to the Iifa Tree to see what the heck was going on.
"So grab a blanket or something," Kuja snarled, refusing to meet Eiko's accusing eyes. She huffed, hugging herself tightly and rocking back and forth as another frigid wind brushed over her skin.
"I wish we could spare more," Garnet said off-handedly, sighing. "But we have to be light with our loads and we only have enough blankets to cover each of us and a few more . . ."
The gloom over the group was becoming stifling. Already they were having dark thoughts of death and cold. Zidane smiled, trying to seem cheerful.
"Well, we can always hope a monster will attack us and give us a good warm- up, eh?"
"No need," came a voice, faded, in the distance. The group looked up to see Beatrix and Fratley emerging from a flurry of lifted snow, each looking rather strained as they lugged what appeared to be assorted Mistodon parts over their shoulders. Fratley was grinning slightly at the ridiculousness of the situation.
"Thought we could search these over for useful items," said Beatrix, throwing a Mistodon head and a couple of legs into the snow with a thud. Fratley followed suit, dispensing his load with a chuckle.
Zidane stood up and stooped over the items, nodding. "All else fails, we can use 'em for fuel . . ."
". . . That's gross," Eiko muttered, making a face.
"B-but very p-practical," Vivi whispered, pulling his coat tighter around his little body.
As the group began to search through the corpse-pieces Kuja folded his arms across his chest and gazed out across the endless expanse of white. Somewhere on this very continent was Garland . . . Somewhere nearby Garland was scheming. If he didn't know better, the sorcerer would've said the overlord was standing, watching, right behind him the entire time. He shivered, frowning.
"Hey, Kuja!" It was Steiner, and he was looking extremely annoyed. "If you're not going to give us a hand over here, the least you can do is go stand on watch!"
Kuja turned his face away, snorting delicately. Steiner's eyes narrowed.
"Get up, you mangy cur! It's time you lugged some of your weight around here!"
"Yeah, if he had any," Zidane teased as he chucked one of the Mistodon-legs into the crackling fire.
Kuja made a derisive noise and looked away. "Please, Steiner . . . Do you honestly want to rest your life in MY hands . . .?"
The captain gulped, eyes wide. "I knew we couldn't trust him!" he gasped, pointing an accusing finger. "I knew it!"
"Steiner, would you calm down?!" Beatrix snapped, glaring at the knight. "Leave him alone . . ."
But before Steiner could respond, Kuja was on his feet. "I'll do it," he snarled. "But if a Mistodon 'accidentally' finds its way into the camp you can blame it on yourself . . ."
The others watched the warlock trek away silently through the snow. An air of unease was settling upon them.
"Cheerful young man, isn't he?" Freya queried.
Zidane blushed.
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The prisoner thrashed and sobbed, but nothing she could do would make the geonomes let go of her. They dragged her down the halls, far away from Ummei and the dingy little room, until she lay beneath a large steel door. She knew immediately where she was:
Garland's throne room . . .
"Get in there!"
The door was thrown open and the purple-eyed woman chucked unceremoniously into the blackened room. She crumpled uselessly to the floor and the geonomes dragged her by the back of her cloak before the great black throne where Garland sat placidly above her.
He seemed rather amused by the spectacle and a cold grin was twisted upon his lips. He nodded to his geonomes and they bowed respectively and backed up to the guard the entrance of the door. Then his icy eyes turned back onto the woman collapsed at his feet and he sighed.
". . . Get up . . ."
The purple-eyed woman let out a small sob and growled. "Make me, jackass!"
Garland smirked. "Now, now. You know as well as I do that you would not like it if I made you get up . . ."
Of course, he was right. But she wasn't about to admit that.
"What do you want, Garland?!" the prisoner snarled, pulling herself up slightly and staring at the Terran. He folded his arms across his chest thoughtfully and frowned.
"You know things . . ." he said simply, shrugging. "In this particular situation you are the only mortal alive who knows more than I . . . And I want to know what you know and know who else you've . . . spoken . . . to,"
The purple-eyed woman laughed. "Are you kidding?! I don't know a thing! And even if I did, I certainly wouldn't tell YOU!"
There was a glitter in Garland's eyes that the prisoner didn't like. He was plotting something . . . Just like always . . .
"Is that so?" he queried, smiling. "Hmm . . . Well we'll just have to change that, won't we? Drakja?"
The woman blanched as she spotted the familiar, harsh featured man melting from the shadows. She hadn't even noticed him there! He was grinning widely, a whip clenched tightly in his hand. The prisoner instinctively raised her arms to defend herself from a blow . . .
But the smack of the whip never came . . .
"Tell me," Garland commanded softly, lowering his eyes to the cowering mage. "Is it not true that you and your perpetual guard have become rather . . . close?"
/Ummei?/ the purple-eyed woman thought in wonderment. /What does this have to do with him?!/
Suspecting this was all a trick to prove she would tell him information when commanded, the prisoner didn't say a word. Unfortunately, this gesture had the opposite affect.
"I see . . . Then you have . . ." Garland mused, smirking. He turned slowly to Drakja and nodded. "Let us begin . . ."
Drakja seemed to be stifling a giggle. He practically hopped away from the throne and over to the wall beside it, right across from the prisoner. Excitedly he punched a few numbers hidden in the steel and stepped back as a part of the wall lifted with a hiss. A smoke curled out from under the door and when it cleared, the purple-eyed woman, who was usually so reserved, gasped in sheer terror.
Behind the wall was a tube-shaped cell the size of a bathroom stall. Chains hung from its ceiling and, shackled tightly to them with his back facing the woman, was Ummei . . .
/No . . ./
He was shirtless and his back was glowing raw from previous whippings. Now Drakja stood beside the stall, the weapon in his hands, grinning.
"You still wish to remain silent?" Garland queried, tilting his head to the side. "If so, then let others pay for your stupidity . . ." He nodded once and Drakja swung the rope through the air, bringing it down with a crack across Ummei's back. The young geonome cried out in agony as a streak of blood ran down his skin.
/Dear god . . ./ The woman could only watch in horror as Drakja stepped back, wiping the crimson from his weapon.
"Well?" said Garland softly, raising a delicate eyebrow. "Will you tell me what I wish to know or will you allow your 'friend' to suffer?"
The prisoner was too shocked to speak. She just shook her head in disbelief, pulling herself up into a sitting position and gazing at the torn flesh of Ummei's back.
"No? Well, then I'm afraid we'll just have to try that again, won't we?" Garland feigned sympathy.
Once more, Drakja lifted the weapon and once more the crack was followed by Ummei's scream. The poor omega sobbed, shaking his head angrily.
"Don't tell them anything!" he cried, craning his neck to see his jail-mate better. "Please, god, don't tell them anything!"
The purple-eyed woman tried to stifle a scream. It was not in her nature to cry, but at the moment she was closer than she'd ever been. Garland knew this, of course, and his eyes flashed with delight.
"Really, this isn't getting us anywhere. We can do this for hours if you'd like. After all, I can afford to lose HIM . . ."
Ummei looked as if he'd been stabbed in the chest and he bowed his head in shame. Garland nodded to Drakja and another crack and scream filled the echoing chamber. The woman closed her eyes in agony.
/I can't tell him anything . . . And Ummei knows it . . . But what can I do? Will Garland just let this go until Ummei dies?! Could I . . . make something up? But Garland's telepathic . . ./ the prisoner clenched a fist near her chest. /More like psychopathic . . ./
"It really is sad . . ." Garland drawled, resting his head in his hand. ". . . To injure such a stupid creature . . . It is the cruelest thing any person can do; injure a thing that doesn't understand why it's being hurt . . ."
The prisoner frowned. /How dumb does Garland think Ummei is . . .?!/
"He's not stupid!" she shouted defiantly. "And if he is, then why do you use him so often for missions?!"
Garland smiled faintly. "He can be intelligent on occasion . . . But the fact that he agreed to this proves that, at the moment, he is at his lowest level of understanding . . ."
Ummei hung limply in the chains, teeth clenched. He was shaking with rage and pain. "You need me . . ." he whispered angrily. "I know you do . . ."
"Silence!" Drakja snarled, bringing the whip down hard on Ummei's shoulder. The omega shrieked as blood splattered to the floor and he crumpled loosely in his bindings. The purple-eyed woman couldn't take it any longer.
"What do you want to know?!" she cried, tears running down her cheeks. "Please, anything! Just stop!"
Ummei whipped his head around, disbelieving, over his shoulder. "No . . ."
Garland sat up straighter, beaming. "Now that's more like it!" He leaned forward eagerly. "Well now, let's get down to business . . . First answer me this: how do you know about Saishoja?"
The purple-eyed woman blinked, surprised. /How did he know that I know?/
Garland smirked. "You really must stop letting your guard down, ma'am. You know as well as I that when you let your barriers drop I can read you as well as I can read anyone else . . ."
The prisoner growled lightly. "You son of a bitch . . ." Then she remembered how she knew of Saishoja and smiled superiorly. "Why, Garland. You really must stop letting your guard down. You know as well as I that when you let your barriers drop I can read you as well as I can read anyone else . . . Jackass," she added smugly. Garland chuckled, shifting slightly in his throne.
"Well now we're even, I guess. So you know of Saishoja and Drakja? Which means you know of Madeline and Triss as well?"
The woman frowned. She knew of Madeline, yes. But who was this Triss? Garland nodded, listening to her every word. The prisoner gasped and immediately put up her barriers. Garland smirked, leaning back.
"Too late . . . So you do not know of Triss? Good. Then you know less of my plans than I thought,"
The purple-eyed woman was wracking her brain. /Triss? Who the heck is this Triss? I don't even know what gender it is!/
Her question was answered for her as Garland began to speak. "Drakja, I'll be sending you and Ummei out to meet with Triss tonight. I need some . . . things . . . from her."
Drakja's eyes were wide. "You mean - ?"
Garland waved an irritable hand which forced Drakja's mouth to shut closed like a trap and gag. "Fool!" Garland shouted, glaring at the alpha-male. "We will speak of this later! When the prisoner can't hear us!"
Drakja, silenced, simply nodded and cast his emerald eyes away from his master. Ummei whimpered.
"This is all my fault . . ." he moaned, shaking his head miserably as the sopping locks fell into face. "It's all my fault . . ."
Garland, still a bit flustered, turned back to the purple-eyed woman and gave her a faint smile.
"Interesting, is it not, how thoughtless Drakja can be? Sometimes he is no better than Ummei,"
Drakja raised an eyebrow, looking hurt, but was unable to speak with the spell clogging his throat.
"You see," said Garland. "When all my geonomes were created from the remains of Drakja's dead body - much the way Kuja was made from Saishoja's own flesh - each of the creations, as was only natural, took on an individual trait of the original Drakja. Some of the geonomes are very serious while others have a sense of humor. Some geonomes are powerful and others are weak," Garland glanced at Ummei as he said this. "That was the how the hierarchy was set up among them. Only one geonome was an exact duplicate of Drakja down to the very last personality trait. And that geonome I named after his predecessor," Garland's whitened eyes fell onto Drakja, who blanched and turned away.
"In some ways," Garland continued. "Ummei represents the original Drakja down to the very core. The original was brilliant; and thus Ummei can be brilliant. But in some ways Ummei is more like the original Drakja when he is not brilliant. And unfortunately all my geonomes have that trait. I'd hoped it would be squashed from them when I extracted the DNA from Drakja's body, but unfortunately it wasn't,"
"And what trait was that?" the purple-eyed woman snarled, wiping angrily at her eyes. "Stupidity?!"
A flash of regret passed over Garland's face and he smiled sadly.
". . . Yes . . ."
Ummei listened on in silence, sniffling. Drakja, who couldn't have talked if he'd wanted to, was wide-eyed. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what he was thinking. But no matter what, it was obvious that his pride was crushed.
Garland seemed a bit uncomfortable now, and he was gazing irritably towards the back wall. "Drakja was a fool . . . Because of him, the surface of our planet was scorched and Terra forced to attempt an assimilation with a younger planet which, as you well know, ended all life on both of them,"
The prisoner blinked, surprised. She knew that because Drakja had killed Saishoja all those years ago, the cities had nuked each other to death. Then, suddenly, it made sense. If the nuclear weapons had ruined the surface of Terra, then the Terran's only means of saving the survivors would be to assimilate with another planet! The prisoner almost smiled at the irony of it all. Now, six-hundred years later, the exact opposite had happened. Rather than Saishoja's death sparking the destruction of Terra's surface, the recreation of Saishoja - Kuja - had scorched it himself! If the situation hadn't been so bleak, the woman would have laughed aloud.
Garland did not seem as psyched to get information from his captive as he had been before. Now he looked disgruntled and disgusted. "Get her out of my sight . . ." he muttered, waving a hand at the purple-eyed woman. Before she could speak, the two geonomes at the door had seized her by her arms and were dragging her unceremoniously from the room. But the prisoner didn't protest. After all, Ummei was safe for now.
Once the door had closed soundly behind the threesome, Garland turned his attention back to Drakja and Ummei, both of whom seemed lost in thought. But at the sharp sound of their names, both geonomes looked up.
"Listen to me," Garland said. "Tonight I'm sending both of you and Dart out to meet with Triss. Do you know who she is?"
Ummei was too weak to make a sound and simply hung like a dead-man in his chains. Drakja just shook his head, looking as if there was an apple stuck in his throat. Garland sighed and explained.
"Triss is a very . . . special . . . weapons-smith. She specializes in rare forms of weaponry, the likes of which can only be purchased from her and her alone. I, myself, have spoken with Triss before. She lives in a cave hidden deep in a forest near the Fire Shrine. There is no snow in the forest because of the heat from her tools, and thus you should be able to find it easily,"
Drakja gulped. /The tools used for her weaponry are enough to melt the snow of an entire forest?!/
Garland continued, ignoring the petrified expression on Drakja's face. "Though I have met with her, I'm still not completely sure what Triss is. Regardless, there are some things you should know before speaking with her. First of all, she has a hot temper. Make her angry and you will pay for it with your life. Second, she takes much pride in her weapons. Whether you like them or not, try to compliment her. Third, she may seem very creepy at first. Don't be scared. You'll only . . . make it worse,"
Drakja nodded obediently.
"I need you to get a very special set of bullets." explained Garland. "They are known as the Momoku and they can only be created and bought from Triss. You see, Triss has mastered the art of many poisons, such as the Momoku. But she has an interesting style . . . these bullets are coated in the Momoku,"
Drakja's green eyes widened. /Poison-coated bullets?! But what's the point in having bullets soaked in poison if the bullet will kill the victim before the toxin can take affect?! What could Garland possibly want them for?!/
"Once you have the bullets," said Garland. "Don't report back to me. Take them and the rest of the geonomes out onto the Forgotten Continent. You are not to come talk to me again until - you - have - shot - the - first - Angel - of - Death,"
Ummei, who was half-conscious, twisted around, horrified, in his bindings. /Shoot Kuja?! Shit! I can't warn that woman!/
"Is that clear?" Garland queried softly. Drakja nodded, looking as surprised as Ummei. "Good. As for the other geonomes: Ummei and Dart are going to do something else for me that I'll explain after you're gone. Chikara will be summoning another part of the plan while you work. I'll fill you in on that later . . . Understood?"
Another nod.
"Good, then get out of my sight,"
Drakja didn't move. Garland raised an eyebrow, then sighed. He waved his hand, lifting the spell from Drakja's throat. The alpha-male rubbed his neck thankfully and left.
"Oh, and get Dart!" Garland called to Drakja's retreating form. "I need to give her and Ummei their mission!"
Drakja simply nodded. He was too bogged down by the day's events to answer.
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Kuja was not in the mood to stare at snow. Perhaps if they'd been somewhere where there was actually a change in color from inch to inch he would have been more keen to stand guard. But at the present moment everything was either white, gray, and occasionally yellow (which was disturbing enough). On top of that . . . IT WAS GOD DAMN COLD!!! Every breath of air from the wind was like claws scraping at his skin. He could feel the flesh being torn from his back as he stood there, gazing sharply at the never-ending, rolling expanses of white powder.
"This is so pointless . . ." Kuja grumbled, shaking out his silver hair as a gust of wind blew fresh flakes into his perfectly placed locks. He ran his numbed fingers through the hair to rid it of the snow and noticed, as he had on occasion, that one of his four feathers was missing. He'd never really wondered where it had gone and figured the Iifa Tree had probably swallowed it up. But still . . .
Kuja hesitated, frowning. He couldn't explain why, but he felt like he was being watched . . . Like the eyes of Garland were boring in on him from all sides . . .
"I'm going to KILL Steiner when I get back . . ." the warlock hissed, teeth chattering. "This is so offending . . ."
But Kuja was sure now. His genome senses didn't lie. Garland's presence was unbearably close. Or, more likely, one of the geonomes. Kuja stiffened, snarling lightly.
/Maybe I should go back and warn the others . . ./
And with that, he turned to go . . .
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Chikara was smirking widely as he stood within the dungeon, smacking the hilt of his whip hard into the palm of his hand.
"Well? Will you do it or not?"
Megan struggled furiously, fighting the bonds that held her arms up over her head. She leaned forward, nearly twisting her shoulders off, and spat angrily at the geonome's feet.
"Let me go!" she shrieked, thrashing wildly in her chains. Chikara laughed, watching his prisoner struggle.
"It won't do you any good . . . You're just a weak Gaian, after all . . ."
"RELEASE ME!!!" Megan shrieked, baring her teeth furiously. "I'm not kidding! I - I've got friends in high places and they'll . . . they'll kick your ass!"
Chikara smirked, unraveling his whip and allowing the rope to trail along the floor. "Is that so?"
"Yes!" Megan snarled, narrowing her eyes dangerously. "You vermin! You and the rest of your filth who killed my mom and grandma! You're gonna pay for that!"
Chikara's eyes flashed coldly and he couldn't help but grin. "And your father? Who killed him? Is he not allied with your 'friends in high places?'"
Megan felt the blood run cold from her face. "H-how dare you . . .!"
Chikara shrugged. "Your life . . . Now, are you going to do it or not?"
". . . Do what . . .?!"
"Do it!" Chikara growled, bringing the whip down hard on Megan's shoulders. She cried out as the searing pain tore at her flesh. "Come on!" the geonome shouted. "Garland's waiting!"
"I don't know what you're TALKING ABOUT!!!" Megan sobbed, feeling a trickle of blood run down her back. Chikara sighed, rolling up his whip once more.
"I'll leave you to think about it . . . When you're ready to summon for us, let us know . . ."
Megan's eyes widened in sheer, uncomprehensible horror.
/Summon . . .?! But . . . I can't!/
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A/N: POP- QUIZ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yay! If one of you guys can get this right, maybe I'll stick you in this story. Not a bad deal, ne? Here's the question (and there IS a right answer. If you read this story REALLY carefully then this question should be no problem):
Question: Kuja is missing one of his four feathers. WHERE IS IT?!
Time to see who's REALLY read this story . . . Heehee . . .
Other Important Notes:
#1. The name of the bullet poison is a real word. If you know what it is, DON'T SPOIL IT FOR ANYONE ELSE! You could ruin the whole plot if ya did . . .
#2. As you know, I know this entire story down to the very last scene. Regardless, certain things have changed. I finally made my decision on one thing: THERE WILL BE A CHARACTER-DEATH IN AN UPCOMING CHAPTER!!! DON'T BE SURPRISED!!!
#3. Here's something one of my friends was wondering: Yes, the purple-eyed woman DOES have a name. I just haven't said it yet (for some reason). But she really does have a name! I swear!
#4. I need to settle an argument. How do you pronounce Eiko's name? I gotta win this argument . . .
Ooh, and for anyone who's seen the Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children trailer, here's my prediction: the guy in black with the short, silver hair is one of the Sephiroth clones and the dude in the wheelchair IS Sephiroth! Makes sense, right?
Disclaimer: If I owned Final Fantasy I wouldn't be writing fanfictions. I would be playing a hard-ass game of hot-fudge water polo instead . . . Heh.
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"Know me, broken by my master."
- Would, Alice in Chains
". . . Do you see that?"
"What?"
"That gleam. There, on the horizon. Kinda like a speck of sunlight . . ."
The little mages all narrowed their glimmering amber eyes and exclaimed simultaneously with delight.
"I see it! I see it!" Nichio-bi cried. "That sparkle! It's really cool!"
"Awesome!"
". . . What is it . . .?" Kayo-bi queried suddenly.
All yellow eyes turned expectantly onto Mr. 41, who was grinning with satisfaction beneath his hood.
"That, my boys, is the great sword of Alexandria Castle. Which means we're but a week away from getting there,"
The children cheered.
"We'll get to see Dad again!" Mokuyo-bi cried, clapping his gloved hands together.
"I'm so excited!"
Mr. 41 listened to the delighted murmuring with some regret. /I only wish we were visiting Alexandria under less grim circumstances . . ./
He had been apprehensive for quite some time over the current matter at hand. How would Zidane take the news of his sister's disappearance? Would he want to run out immediately and save her? Or would he leave it to the authorities until it was too late? Which was worse?
"Oh, Mikoto . . . Where could you be . . .?" Mr. 41 queried sadly.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Mikoto's eyes narrowed at first with suspicion when Ummei entered the boiler-room once more. He was hunched strangely and Mikoto suspected he'd been whipped. But immediately she saw that wasn't the case (for there was no blood) and she became wracked with concern.
"Ummei, what's wrong?"
The purple-eyed woman in the corner of the room looked worried as well. She could read anyone as well as she could read a book.
Ummei's green eyes turned miserably onto the prisoners and he sat down painfully slow.
". . . I'm leaving . . ." he said softly. Mikoto cocked her head.
"What?"
"I'm leaving. Something's come up and Garland's sending me out of the ship for awhile on a mission . . . I'm sorry . . ."
The purple-eyed woman smiled sympathetically. "What's there to be sorry for? It's not your fault,"
Ummei bit his lip, rubbing habitually at the sore spot on his shoulder where Drakja had whipped him for "allowing" the tyrant to make a fool of himself.
"It's just . . . Garland wants me to do something else first . . ."
". . . And what's that . . .?"
As if in response to this question, the door was thrown open and two male geonomes stormed into the room, furred tails flicking.
"You're comin' with us!" they snarled, grabbing the wine-eyed woman by her arms and hauling her violently to her feet. She shrieked and protested, but one of the geonomes smacked her and she shut up immediately.
Mikoto pulled furiously on her shackles, crying out as she attempted to throw herself at the geonomes that shoved the other prisoner to the floor and began to drag her out the door by her hair.
"Ummei, stop them!" Mikoto sobbed, turning angrily to the omega. But she noticed, then, that he was shaking violently. Something was happening . . . Mikoto's sapphire eyes narrowed.
"Ummei, what's going on . . .?"
The geonome clutched himself, shaking uncontrollably. "Mikoto, I - "
They both froze. Drakja was standing in the doorway, cloaked in threatening shadows. His eyes were blazing for the kill.
"Ummei . . . It's time . . ."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"I don't know how you can stand it, man . . ." Eiko moaned, glaring daggers at the sorcerer perched beside her. "Are you the only one not shivering here?!"
Kuja shrugged, gazing away from Eiko as if the little Summoner was not worthy of his presence. She smacked at the rock he sat upon and growled.
"It's so cold! I'm dying here!"
The others, who were seated around a small fire in the frozen tundra looked equally as miserable. Zidane, however, was somewhat more energetic. This only led the group to believe it was another one of those "genome-things."
The airship ride to the Forgotten Continent had taken only twelve hours (which was pretty good by airship standards). The crew made sure the Hildagarde 3 flew past Esto Gaza where the Indomitable was rumored to have landed and then proceeded to hide it strategically in the tundra where it would be camouflaged by the snow. From there, the mismatched team grabbed all their weapons and supplies and began to journey the frozen mass of land in search of Garland's airship.
The location they sat, huddled and freezing in had no mountains, hills, trees, or bodies of water to speak of. There was only miles and miles of barren, white snow until the empty whiteness hit the transparent horizon. The wind blew mercilessly in the emptiness, scorching their skin and forcing the group to stop and build camp within a matter of hours.
On the short journey, however, the crew had been rather disturbed to find many familiar foot-impressions and trails in the snow.
Mist monsters . . . The continent was teeming with them. They had been attacked several times and now, seated vulnerably on the plain, Fratley and Beatrix were stationed somewhere out in the tundra on guard and killing Mist monsters when necessary. There was no possible explanation for how the creatures could possibly be alive. The Iifa Tree was dead and producing no Mist. Any remaining monsters had been killed by Kuja and Zidane themselves years back. And yet Mist had been reappearing all over Gaia almost as bad as before. It was obvious that after finding Garland's ship all this would merit a trip to the Iifa Tree to see what the heck was going on.
"So grab a blanket or something," Kuja snarled, refusing to meet Eiko's accusing eyes. She huffed, hugging herself tightly and rocking back and forth as another frigid wind brushed over her skin.
"I wish we could spare more," Garnet said off-handedly, sighing. "But we have to be light with our loads and we only have enough blankets to cover each of us and a few more . . ."
The gloom over the group was becoming stifling. Already they were having dark thoughts of death and cold. Zidane smiled, trying to seem cheerful.
"Well, we can always hope a monster will attack us and give us a good warm- up, eh?"
"No need," came a voice, faded, in the distance. The group looked up to see Beatrix and Fratley emerging from a flurry of lifted snow, each looking rather strained as they lugged what appeared to be assorted Mistodon parts over their shoulders. Fratley was grinning slightly at the ridiculousness of the situation.
"Thought we could search these over for useful items," said Beatrix, throwing a Mistodon head and a couple of legs into the snow with a thud. Fratley followed suit, dispensing his load with a chuckle.
Zidane stood up and stooped over the items, nodding. "All else fails, we can use 'em for fuel . . ."
". . . That's gross," Eiko muttered, making a face.
"B-but very p-practical," Vivi whispered, pulling his coat tighter around his little body.
As the group began to search through the corpse-pieces Kuja folded his arms across his chest and gazed out across the endless expanse of white. Somewhere on this very continent was Garland . . . Somewhere nearby Garland was scheming. If he didn't know better, the sorcerer would've said the overlord was standing, watching, right behind him the entire time. He shivered, frowning.
"Hey, Kuja!" It was Steiner, and he was looking extremely annoyed. "If you're not going to give us a hand over here, the least you can do is go stand on watch!"
Kuja turned his face away, snorting delicately. Steiner's eyes narrowed.
"Get up, you mangy cur! It's time you lugged some of your weight around here!"
"Yeah, if he had any," Zidane teased as he chucked one of the Mistodon-legs into the crackling fire.
Kuja made a derisive noise and looked away. "Please, Steiner . . . Do you honestly want to rest your life in MY hands . . .?"
The captain gulped, eyes wide. "I knew we couldn't trust him!" he gasped, pointing an accusing finger. "I knew it!"
"Steiner, would you calm down?!" Beatrix snapped, glaring at the knight. "Leave him alone . . ."
But before Steiner could respond, Kuja was on his feet. "I'll do it," he snarled. "But if a Mistodon 'accidentally' finds its way into the camp you can blame it on yourself . . ."
The others watched the warlock trek away silently through the snow. An air of unease was settling upon them.
"Cheerful young man, isn't he?" Freya queried.
Zidane blushed.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The prisoner thrashed and sobbed, but nothing she could do would make the geonomes let go of her. They dragged her down the halls, far away from Ummei and the dingy little room, until she lay beneath a large steel door. She knew immediately where she was:
Garland's throne room . . .
"Get in there!"
The door was thrown open and the purple-eyed woman chucked unceremoniously into the blackened room. She crumpled uselessly to the floor and the geonomes dragged her by the back of her cloak before the great black throne where Garland sat placidly above her.
He seemed rather amused by the spectacle and a cold grin was twisted upon his lips. He nodded to his geonomes and they bowed respectively and backed up to the guard the entrance of the door. Then his icy eyes turned back onto the woman collapsed at his feet and he sighed.
". . . Get up . . ."
The purple-eyed woman let out a small sob and growled. "Make me, jackass!"
Garland smirked. "Now, now. You know as well as I do that you would not like it if I made you get up . . ."
Of course, he was right. But she wasn't about to admit that.
"What do you want, Garland?!" the prisoner snarled, pulling herself up slightly and staring at the Terran. He folded his arms across his chest thoughtfully and frowned.
"You know things . . ." he said simply, shrugging. "In this particular situation you are the only mortal alive who knows more than I . . . And I want to know what you know and know who else you've . . . spoken . . . to,"
The purple-eyed woman laughed. "Are you kidding?! I don't know a thing! And even if I did, I certainly wouldn't tell YOU!"
There was a glitter in Garland's eyes that the prisoner didn't like. He was plotting something . . . Just like always . . .
"Is that so?" he queried, smiling. "Hmm . . . Well we'll just have to change that, won't we? Drakja?"
The woman blanched as she spotted the familiar, harsh featured man melting from the shadows. She hadn't even noticed him there! He was grinning widely, a whip clenched tightly in his hand. The prisoner instinctively raised her arms to defend herself from a blow . . .
But the smack of the whip never came . . .
"Tell me," Garland commanded softly, lowering his eyes to the cowering mage. "Is it not true that you and your perpetual guard have become rather . . . close?"
/Ummei?/ the purple-eyed woman thought in wonderment. /What does this have to do with him?!/
Suspecting this was all a trick to prove she would tell him information when commanded, the prisoner didn't say a word. Unfortunately, this gesture had the opposite affect.
"I see . . . Then you have . . ." Garland mused, smirking. He turned slowly to Drakja and nodded. "Let us begin . . ."
Drakja seemed to be stifling a giggle. He practically hopped away from the throne and over to the wall beside it, right across from the prisoner. Excitedly he punched a few numbers hidden in the steel and stepped back as a part of the wall lifted with a hiss. A smoke curled out from under the door and when it cleared, the purple-eyed woman, who was usually so reserved, gasped in sheer terror.
Behind the wall was a tube-shaped cell the size of a bathroom stall. Chains hung from its ceiling and, shackled tightly to them with his back facing the woman, was Ummei . . .
/No . . ./
He was shirtless and his back was glowing raw from previous whippings. Now Drakja stood beside the stall, the weapon in his hands, grinning.
"You still wish to remain silent?" Garland queried, tilting his head to the side. "If so, then let others pay for your stupidity . . ." He nodded once and Drakja swung the rope through the air, bringing it down with a crack across Ummei's back. The young geonome cried out in agony as a streak of blood ran down his skin.
/Dear god . . ./ The woman could only watch in horror as Drakja stepped back, wiping the crimson from his weapon.
"Well?" said Garland softly, raising a delicate eyebrow. "Will you tell me what I wish to know or will you allow your 'friend' to suffer?"
The prisoner was too shocked to speak. She just shook her head in disbelief, pulling herself up into a sitting position and gazing at the torn flesh of Ummei's back.
"No? Well, then I'm afraid we'll just have to try that again, won't we?" Garland feigned sympathy.
Once more, Drakja lifted the weapon and once more the crack was followed by Ummei's scream. The poor omega sobbed, shaking his head angrily.
"Don't tell them anything!" he cried, craning his neck to see his jail-mate better. "Please, god, don't tell them anything!"
The purple-eyed woman tried to stifle a scream. It was not in her nature to cry, but at the moment she was closer than she'd ever been. Garland knew this, of course, and his eyes flashed with delight.
"Really, this isn't getting us anywhere. We can do this for hours if you'd like. After all, I can afford to lose HIM . . ."
Ummei looked as if he'd been stabbed in the chest and he bowed his head in shame. Garland nodded to Drakja and another crack and scream filled the echoing chamber. The woman closed her eyes in agony.
/I can't tell him anything . . . And Ummei knows it . . . But what can I do? Will Garland just let this go until Ummei dies?! Could I . . . make something up? But Garland's telepathic . . ./ the prisoner clenched a fist near her chest. /More like psychopathic . . ./
"It really is sad . . ." Garland drawled, resting his head in his hand. ". . . To injure such a stupid creature . . . It is the cruelest thing any person can do; injure a thing that doesn't understand why it's being hurt . . ."
The prisoner frowned. /How dumb does Garland think Ummei is . . .?!/
"He's not stupid!" she shouted defiantly. "And if he is, then why do you use him so often for missions?!"
Garland smiled faintly. "He can be intelligent on occasion . . . But the fact that he agreed to this proves that, at the moment, he is at his lowest level of understanding . . ."
Ummei hung limply in the chains, teeth clenched. He was shaking with rage and pain. "You need me . . ." he whispered angrily. "I know you do . . ."
"Silence!" Drakja snarled, bringing the whip down hard on Ummei's shoulder. The omega shrieked as blood splattered to the floor and he crumpled loosely in his bindings. The purple-eyed woman couldn't take it any longer.
"What do you want to know?!" she cried, tears running down her cheeks. "Please, anything! Just stop!"
Ummei whipped his head around, disbelieving, over his shoulder. "No . . ."
Garland sat up straighter, beaming. "Now that's more like it!" He leaned forward eagerly. "Well now, let's get down to business . . . First answer me this: how do you know about Saishoja?"
The purple-eyed woman blinked, surprised. /How did he know that I know?/
Garland smirked. "You really must stop letting your guard down, ma'am. You know as well as I that when you let your barriers drop I can read you as well as I can read anyone else . . ."
The prisoner growled lightly. "You son of a bitch . . ." Then she remembered how she knew of Saishoja and smiled superiorly. "Why, Garland. You really must stop letting your guard down. You know as well as I that when you let your barriers drop I can read you as well as I can read anyone else . . . Jackass," she added smugly. Garland chuckled, shifting slightly in his throne.
"Well now we're even, I guess. So you know of Saishoja and Drakja? Which means you know of Madeline and Triss as well?"
The woman frowned. She knew of Madeline, yes. But who was this Triss? Garland nodded, listening to her every word. The prisoner gasped and immediately put up her barriers. Garland smirked, leaning back.
"Too late . . . So you do not know of Triss? Good. Then you know less of my plans than I thought,"
The purple-eyed woman was wracking her brain. /Triss? Who the heck is this Triss? I don't even know what gender it is!/
Her question was answered for her as Garland began to speak. "Drakja, I'll be sending you and Ummei out to meet with Triss tonight. I need some . . . things . . . from her."
Drakja's eyes were wide. "You mean - ?"
Garland waved an irritable hand which forced Drakja's mouth to shut closed like a trap and gag. "Fool!" Garland shouted, glaring at the alpha-male. "We will speak of this later! When the prisoner can't hear us!"
Drakja, silenced, simply nodded and cast his emerald eyes away from his master. Ummei whimpered.
"This is all my fault . . ." he moaned, shaking his head miserably as the sopping locks fell into face. "It's all my fault . . ."
Garland, still a bit flustered, turned back to the purple-eyed woman and gave her a faint smile.
"Interesting, is it not, how thoughtless Drakja can be? Sometimes he is no better than Ummei,"
Drakja raised an eyebrow, looking hurt, but was unable to speak with the spell clogging his throat.
"You see," said Garland. "When all my geonomes were created from the remains of Drakja's dead body - much the way Kuja was made from Saishoja's own flesh - each of the creations, as was only natural, took on an individual trait of the original Drakja. Some of the geonomes are very serious while others have a sense of humor. Some geonomes are powerful and others are weak," Garland glanced at Ummei as he said this. "That was the how the hierarchy was set up among them. Only one geonome was an exact duplicate of Drakja down to the very last personality trait. And that geonome I named after his predecessor," Garland's whitened eyes fell onto Drakja, who blanched and turned away.
"In some ways," Garland continued. "Ummei represents the original Drakja down to the very core. The original was brilliant; and thus Ummei can be brilliant. But in some ways Ummei is more like the original Drakja when he is not brilliant. And unfortunately all my geonomes have that trait. I'd hoped it would be squashed from them when I extracted the DNA from Drakja's body, but unfortunately it wasn't,"
"And what trait was that?" the purple-eyed woman snarled, wiping angrily at her eyes. "Stupidity?!"
A flash of regret passed over Garland's face and he smiled sadly.
". . . Yes . . ."
Ummei listened on in silence, sniffling. Drakja, who couldn't have talked if he'd wanted to, was wide-eyed. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what he was thinking. But no matter what, it was obvious that his pride was crushed.
Garland seemed a bit uncomfortable now, and he was gazing irritably towards the back wall. "Drakja was a fool . . . Because of him, the surface of our planet was scorched and Terra forced to attempt an assimilation with a younger planet which, as you well know, ended all life on both of them,"
The prisoner blinked, surprised. She knew that because Drakja had killed Saishoja all those years ago, the cities had nuked each other to death. Then, suddenly, it made sense. If the nuclear weapons had ruined the surface of Terra, then the Terran's only means of saving the survivors would be to assimilate with another planet! The prisoner almost smiled at the irony of it all. Now, six-hundred years later, the exact opposite had happened. Rather than Saishoja's death sparking the destruction of Terra's surface, the recreation of Saishoja - Kuja - had scorched it himself! If the situation hadn't been so bleak, the woman would have laughed aloud.
Garland did not seem as psyched to get information from his captive as he had been before. Now he looked disgruntled and disgusted. "Get her out of my sight . . ." he muttered, waving a hand at the purple-eyed woman. Before she could speak, the two geonomes at the door had seized her by her arms and were dragging her unceremoniously from the room. But the prisoner didn't protest. After all, Ummei was safe for now.
Once the door had closed soundly behind the threesome, Garland turned his attention back to Drakja and Ummei, both of whom seemed lost in thought. But at the sharp sound of their names, both geonomes looked up.
"Listen to me," Garland said. "Tonight I'm sending both of you and Dart out to meet with Triss. Do you know who she is?"
Ummei was too weak to make a sound and simply hung like a dead-man in his chains. Drakja just shook his head, looking as if there was an apple stuck in his throat. Garland sighed and explained.
"Triss is a very . . . special . . . weapons-smith. She specializes in rare forms of weaponry, the likes of which can only be purchased from her and her alone. I, myself, have spoken with Triss before. She lives in a cave hidden deep in a forest near the Fire Shrine. There is no snow in the forest because of the heat from her tools, and thus you should be able to find it easily,"
Drakja gulped. /The tools used for her weaponry are enough to melt the snow of an entire forest?!/
Garland continued, ignoring the petrified expression on Drakja's face. "Though I have met with her, I'm still not completely sure what Triss is. Regardless, there are some things you should know before speaking with her. First of all, she has a hot temper. Make her angry and you will pay for it with your life. Second, she takes much pride in her weapons. Whether you like them or not, try to compliment her. Third, she may seem very creepy at first. Don't be scared. You'll only . . . make it worse,"
Drakja nodded obediently.
"I need you to get a very special set of bullets." explained Garland. "They are known as the Momoku and they can only be created and bought from Triss. You see, Triss has mastered the art of many poisons, such as the Momoku. But she has an interesting style . . . these bullets are coated in the Momoku,"
Drakja's green eyes widened. /Poison-coated bullets?! But what's the point in having bullets soaked in poison if the bullet will kill the victim before the toxin can take affect?! What could Garland possibly want them for?!/
"Once you have the bullets," said Garland. "Don't report back to me. Take them and the rest of the geonomes out onto the Forgotten Continent. You are not to come talk to me again until - you - have - shot - the - first - Angel - of - Death,"
Ummei, who was half-conscious, twisted around, horrified, in his bindings. /Shoot Kuja?! Shit! I can't warn that woman!/
"Is that clear?" Garland queried softly. Drakja nodded, looking as surprised as Ummei. "Good. As for the other geonomes: Ummei and Dart are going to do something else for me that I'll explain after you're gone. Chikara will be summoning another part of the plan while you work. I'll fill you in on that later . . . Understood?"
Another nod.
"Good, then get out of my sight,"
Drakja didn't move. Garland raised an eyebrow, then sighed. He waved his hand, lifting the spell from Drakja's throat. The alpha-male rubbed his neck thankfully and left.
"Oh, and get Dart!" Garland called to Drakja's retreating form. "I need to give her and Ummei their mission!"
Drakja simply nodded. He was too bogged down by the day's events to answer.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Kuja was not in the mood to stare at snow. Perhaps if they'd been somewhere where there was actually a change in color from inch to inch he would have been more keen to stand guard. But at the present moment everything was either white, gray, and occasionally yellow (which was disturbing enough). On top of that . . . IT WAS GOD DAMN COLD!!! Every breath of air from the wind was like claws scraping at his skin. He could feel the flesh being torn from his back as he stood there, gazing sharply at the never-ending, rolling expanses of white powder.
"This is so pointless . . ." Kuja grumbled, shaking out his silver hair as a gust of wind blew fresh flakes into his perfectly placed locks. He ran his numbed fingers through the hair to rid it of the snow and noticed, as he had on occasion, that one of his four feathers was missing. He'd never really wondered where it had gone and figured the Iifa Tree had probably swallowed it up. But still . . .
Kuja hesitated, frowning. He couldn't explain why, but he felt like he was being watched . . . Like the eyes of Garland were boring in on him from all sides . . .
"I'm going to KILL Steiner when I get back . . ." the warlock hissed, teeth chattering. "This is so offending . . ."
But Kuja was sure now. His genome senses didn't lie. Garland's presence was unbearably close. Or, more likely, one of the geonomes. Kuja stiffened, snarling lightly.
/Maybe I should go back and warn the others . . ./
And with that, he turned to go . . .
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Chikara was smirking widely as he stood within the dungeon, smacking the hilt of his whip hard into the palm of his hand.
"Well? Will you do it or not?"
Megan struggled furiously, fighting the bonds that held her arms up over her head. She leaned forward, nearly twisting her shoulders off, and spat angrily at the geonome's feet.
"Let me go!" she shrieked, thrashing wildly in her chains. Chikara laughed, watching his prisoner struggle.
"It won't do you any good . . . You're just a weak Gaian, after all . . ."
"RELEASE ME!!!" Megan shrieked, baring her teeth furiously. "I'm not kidding! I - I've got friends in high places and they'll . . . they'll kick your ass!"
Chikara smirked, unraveling his whip and allowing the rope to trail along the floor. "Is that so?"
"Yes!" Megan snarled, narrowing her eyes dangerously. "You vermin! You and the rest of your filth who killed my mom and grandma! You're gonna pay for that!"
Chikara's eyes flashed coldly and he couldn't help but grin. "And your father? Who killed him? Is he not allied with your 'friends in high places?'"
Megan felt the blood run cold from her face. "H-how dare you . . .!"
Chikara shrugged. "Your life . . . Now, are you going to do it or not?"
". . . Do what . . .?!"
"Do it!" Chikara growled, bringing the whip down hard on Megan's shoulders. She cried out as the searing pain tore at her flesh. "Come on!" the geonome shouted. "Garland's waiting!"
"I don't know what you're TALKING ABOUT!!!" Megan sobbed, feeling a trickle of blood run down her back. Chikara sighed, rolling up his whip once more.
"I'll leave you to think about it . . . When you're ready to summon for us, let us know . . ."
Megan's eyes widened in sheer, uncomprehensible horror.
/Summon . . .?! But . . . I can't!/
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A/N: POP- QUIZ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yay! If one of you guys can get this right, maybe I'll stick you in this story. Not a bad deal, ne? Here's the question (and there IS a right answer. If you read this story REALLY carefully then this question should be no problem):
Question: Kuja is missing one of his four feathers. WHERE IS IT?!
Time to see who's REALLY read this story . . . Heehee . . .
Other Important Notes:
#1. The name of the bullet poison is a real word. If you know what it is, DON'T SPOIL IT FOR ANYONE ELSE! You could ruin the whole plot if ya did . . .
#2. As you know, I know this entire story down to the very last scene. Regardless, certain things have changed. I finally made my decision on one thing: THERE WILL BE A CHARACTER-DEATH IN AN UPCOMING CHAPTER!!! DON'T BE SURPRISED!!!
#3. Here's something one of my friends was wondering: Yes, the purple-eyed woman DOES have a name. I just haven't said it yet (for some reason). But she really does have a name! I swear!
#4. I need to settle an argument. How do you pronounce Eiko's name? I gotta win this argument . . .
Ooh, and for anyone who's seen the Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children trailer, here's my prediction: the guy in black with the short, silver hair is one of the Sephiroth clones and the dude in the wheelchair IS Sephiroth! Makes sense, right?