A/N: Mwa, I like this chapter . . . I'm not sure if it works, but it sounds
alright to me. And now for my annual cry-fest: *sob* Seventeen reviews in
three days! You are all SO cool! You make me feel so loved . . . *sob
sniffle Iwanttothanktheacademy* I'm also excited because a certain
reviewer whose name can't be mentioned until the end of the next chapter
not only got the plot, but hit the nail right on the head. Me so proud of
anonymous-person-yet-to-be-named. But don't you all start going and
reading the reviews to see who. You . . . You wouldn't want to spoil it
for yourselves, would you *shiny eyes*? Also, I spoke with Triss, and she
told me to tell ThunDaGa that you are "astute" and a "kawaii genius" for
figuring out that she named herself after a squirrel (I never read that
particular Redwall book myself . . .). Triss also asked if she could be
scattered throughout the rest of the chapters. Herm . . . I'll think about
it ^_^ And happy birthday to IMPROVED Uber Rei Model 06! Okay, my shpeal
is over . . .
Disclaimer: Moi? Own Final Fantasy? Why, if I did, Final Fantasy IX would have a sequel movie, too . . . And yeah *rant rant*
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"Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing."
– Macbeth, William Shakespeare
Zidane was unable to utter a word. What it was that he was seeing, he remained unsure. But only two thoughts managed to come together in his mind: Kuja was in trouble, and Drakja was at fault. Both spelled death for the geonome.
Drakja tore his blazing green eyes from Zidane's face and lowered them down to Kuja's unmoving, lithe form.
". . . Poor thing . . ." the sinister man whispered softly. "You fought it so long . . . But in the end you realized . . . There was never really a battle to begin with . . ."
/Wh-what is he saying . . .?!/ Zidane felt himself gripped with fear. /Kuja couldn't be . . . No, he's not! He's breathing, I can see it from here . . ./
"You never completely understood," Drakja continued, staring down piteously at Kuja's form. "You had guesses, yes. And in your subconscious you always knew. And when you realized the truth, you gave up. It was so much easier, wasn't it? Poor, poor thing . . ." Drakja stooped slightly and ran the back of his hand delicately over Kuja's sopping silver hair.
As if he was petting him like a dog . . .
Zidane felt rage boiling up within him like some violent beast was attempting to tear his rib-cage apart. Anger began to build. Then hate. No one . . . No one had the right to treat his brother this way . . .
"Take . . . your fucking hands . . . off of him . . ." Zidane hissed. His voice was soft, dangerous, lethal. It could barely be heard above the din of the storm, yet Drakja caught every last word of it. The geonome straightened himself, smirking, and Zidane saw him hide something behind his back; like a canister of some sort.
"So what are you going to do about it?" Drakja queried. "I'm done. I've done my task. My part in Garland's plan is over for the most part. So what are you going to do about it?"
"Do about WHAT?" Zidane snarled. Drakja grinned.
"My victory,"
"What, killing Kuja?" Zidane's aqua blue eyes narrowed accusingly. "Congratulations, bastard,"
"Kill him?" Drakja seemed amused. "No, no, never kill him. Why would I want to harm such a delicate creature, hmm?" He glanced down at Kuja almost . . . lovingly. "No, my orders were to keep him alive,"
"Then what the hell did you do to him?"
"What did I do?" Drakja's green eyes were dancing in the rain. "I freed him. Freed him from the confines of this accursed shell he calls a body . . . I freed Them. I saved your brother's so-called life. You should be bowing down before me and begging to do me favors. My dear Angel of Death, you should be kissing my feet . . ."
". . . I would rather DIE . . ." Zidane could feel his patience beginning to fray. He didn't understand a word Drakja was saying, and there was a dull pounding in his ears.
"Oh, that can be arranged," Drakja smiled cutely. Zidane's mind was beginning to flood with suspicion again. The overlord was planning something . . .
"Would you like to try?" Zidane raised an eyebrow and put his hands on his hips. Drakja folded his arms across his chest, looking mildly surprised.
"What's this? Is the second-soul genome challenging Garland's first-soul creation?"
"I dunno. Am I?"
"I think you are," Drakja looked delighted. Obviously, he'd been waiting for this opportunity for a very long time. "Come then. Attack me, oh great Angel of Death. Show me your best,"
Zidane frowned. Drakja's voice contained too much rapture for his liking. There was definitely something else going on . . .
For a moment, Zidane stood there and allowed the rain to lash against his face. Then a cry arose from his lips and he charged. Drakja did so as well, drawing a massive blade from his sheathe as he dove through the air. Zidane reached back and withdrew the Ultima Weapon, which gleamed menacingly in the black night. The two creations met head-on and their weapons collided. A loud clang filled the air, and the reverberation of the impact sent the two enemies skidding backwards. Water spurted from their paths. His arms already aching, Zidane grit his teeth.
/This is going to be more difficult than I thought . . . Gods only know how many weapons Drakja has on hand . . . And I don't want to get Kuja involved . . ./
Zidane knew immediately that he had to move the battle towards the center of the rooftop, away from Kuja's prone form.
Zidane swerved around, forming a semi-circle and attacking Drakja from the side in the hopes of driving him out of the way. What the genome thought would be a painful swish of his scythe was blocked by a simple flick of the wrist. Zidane stumbled backwards, shocked as the double ends of his weapon shivered in his hands.
/He blocked that like it was nothing!/
Drakja smiled, the doom eminent on his nemesis's face.
"Having second thoughts, Angel of Death?"
"Not even slightly!"
Zidane gripped the middle handle that connected the two ends of his blades and drove forward again. He put all his force and, taking advantage of gravity and the monstrous weight of his sword, brought the Ultima Weapon careening through the air. Drakja blocked it, but Zidane came right back. Caught off guard, Drakja took a step backwards to receive the third blow. Zidane realized his plan was working. Step by step, every clash of their swords was driving Drakja further and further away from Zidane's unconscious brother.
Unfortunately, with every clang Drakja's fury was becoming clearer and clearer. If Zidane pushed too hard, he knew he would regret it with his life.
"Aha!" Drakja cackled and suddenly lunged beneath one of Zidane's blows. He rammed into the genome's chest, knocking the wind out of him. Zidane skidded backwards onto the roof, water pooling up around him. He lay there for a moment, stunned. Drakja smirked and twirled his blade.
"Is that the best you've got?" the green-eyed man taunted.
"Of course it isn't!" Zidane hissed, trying to hide his pain. It felt like his ribs had been hit by an anvil. They were definitely bruised.
"So get up,"
"I am!" Zidane bit his lip, tasting blood, and rose shakily to his feet. The world spun, but he didn't let Drakja see it. Gripping his weapon tightly, Zidane prepared for more combat.
". . . Come and get it . . ."
Water streamed off Zidane's Ultima Weapon as he swung it in a sideways arc towards Drakja's body. Drakja dodged it and moved in for an opening. Zidane backpedaled slightly, shielding his body with his blades. Drakja laughed and leapt into the air.
"Nng!" Zidane, still dizzy, stepped too far back and slipped. He landed hard and raised his swords in defense. Drakja came down on top of him, but Zidane caught his enemy's weapon and flung him backwards over his own head. Drakja landed lightly on his feet and skid, then charged forward once more as if he had a boundless source of energy. Zidane leapt hurriedly to his feet, preparing to take on another hit.
Within moments, Zidane realized the truth behind the brewing battle. It was completely and utterly unfair. Drakja had more weapons and hadn't just run halfway across a city. He was going to beat Zidane not out of skill, but simply out of luck.
"Damn it . . ." the blonde muttered as Drakja's sword whizzed by overhead. /I've got to catch him off guard . . . Somehow . . ./
Zidane waited, continuing to dodge and parry. He knew there was one way he could beat Drakja, but he'd have to hold off. It had to be the right moment . . .
/Now!/
Drakja brought his blade in sideway, trying to trip Zidane. The genome leapt up, surprising his nemesis, and then stomped down hard. He literally jumped on the flat of Drakja's weapon. However, Drakja "forgot" to let go and – after being jerked forward by his own sword – he fell face forward onto the rooftop with his sword beneath Zidane's boot. The genome stepped back, growling.
"Gotcha,"
Drakja pulled himself up onto his hands and knees, shaking the water out of his hair like a dog. Then he laughed.
"Clever, Angel of Death. Very clever. Rather . . . Rather funny, actually," he chuckled, dragging himself to his feet and reaching down to retrieve his sword. However, Zidane brought his Ultima Weapon screaming through the air as if aiming for Drakja's hand. The geonome pulled his arm back, gasping, and Zidane saw his face flood with fear at how narrowly the mammoth blade had missed his outstretched, vulnerable arm. However, his face became twice as frightened when he saw where the Ultima Weapon had landed.
Drakja's sword – a very nice one, in fact – was cleaved cleanly in two. The separated pieces, cut through the blade itself, lay there uselessly, their luster seemingly gone. Drakja's green eyes went dull.
"You . . . You cut my sword in half . . ."
"Yes. You can count, can't you?" Zidane mocked. "One, two. Two pieces of your sword,"
Drakja's eyes narrowed. "You think you're very smart, don't you, Angel of Death? Garland thinks you're wonderful . . . Kuja's always been jealous . . . You think you're just SO damn great . . ."
Zidane raised an eyebrow. "Better than YOU, yes,"
"Oh, but you're not," Drakja rose slowly, the rain running off his beige, leathery trench-coat. The ends of his garment floated eerily in the ever- rising waters. "You underestimated me . . . again. You see, not only do I have MANY more swords and weapons where that came from AND at my disposal . . . but apparently you've forgotten that I have certain other . . . abilities . . . that you, yourself, could never possess,"
"Is that so?"
Though Zidane sounded confident, he knew deep down that he was pushing far too many buttons. Indeed, he remembered a conversation he'd had with Kuja ONLY on the techniques of geonomes. They were deadly foes, weapons or not. But in the heat of the battle, Zidane didn't think fast enough to anticipate Drakja's next move . . .
Drakja bared his teeth in a menacing grin. Zidane frowned, unsure of what the geonome was doing. Then he felt the first stab of fear since the battle began.
Drakja's teeth were lengthening, curving into points. His canines grew down over his chin into jagged, serrated fangs. His coffee-colored hair was yellowing at the roots. The abnormal color trickled down to the very last tip just as his hair began to melt into his body. It fanned out, trailing down his back like furred dragon spikes. His face narrowed, then stretched out into a thick muzzle. Violet fur began to erupt from his skin as his arms and legs thickened and grew to massive, tree-trunk sized proportions. Powerful muscles rippled and tensed beneath his flesh as his thin geonome tail doubled up and sprouted into a serpent-sized appendage ending in a crimson fin, glistening with bloody scales. His nails stretched and cracked, morphing into yellow, dirty claws that were bigger than entire fingers. His body seemed to explode as it grew larger, larger, till he was more than ten feet high and the two inky black horns on his head seemed to brush the heavens. His arms became as long as his legs, toppling his body down onto all fours with a thud. His eyes became slit- red sockets, deep and glowing. An unearthly growl arose from the monster's throat and it took a menacing step forward. There was a crash and the entire roof shook with its force. Zidane couldn't even believe it . . .
Drakja had become a Behemoth . . .
/Oh CRAP, they're shapeshifters! How could I forget?!/
The behemoth shook out its golden mane, spraying water everywhere, and curled its lip. The creature roared, snapping its powerful jaws, then moved forward to circle again. Zidane clutched his Ultima Weapon desperately.
/I'm not going to win this! I can't take on an entire Behemoth myself! And this one has human-like intelligence!/
Zidane backed up, nearly blanked out with fear. Drakja bore down above him, his shadow falling across Zidane's body. The water on the roof sloshed with his immense weight as the creature snarled, revealing its glistening, saliva-coated fangs.
"Ah, get back you FREAK!!!" Zidane rushed forward quite suddenly, slashing at Drakja's front leg. The monster simply lifted a clawed paw and swatted Zidane away. The genome stumbled backwards, avoiding the fierce talons. Unfortunately, he was too slow . . . Thin tears appeared suddenly across Zidane's rain-soaked shirt. Red began to blossom beneath it. The behemoth made a coughing sound. Zidane realized the monster was laughing . . .
Drakja moved in again, whipping his neck fiercely and snapping his lethal jaws. Zidane leapt out of the way, then sprung backwards as Drakja lunged for the kill. It was steadily becoming a game of avoid and attack. Drakja would rush at Zidane, Zidane would dodge him. The genome would do this for several turns, then spring in for an opening if given the chance. But his moves seemed to do little or nothing to faze the great beast . . .
"God, DIE already!" Zidane slashed Drakja across the muzzle with his Ultima Weapon. The Behemoth roared and reared backwards, blood spewing from his violet-furred nose. He came back down with a crash and began bucking wildly around the roof, shaking his head fiercely. Zidane just barely avoided being impaled by those monstrous claws.
/Crap . . ./ Zidane thought hurriedly. /This is getting dangerous, and Kuja's still really vulnerable . . . What is Drakja's weakness?/
The Behemoth charged suddenly, ramming Zidane hard in the chest and throwing him backwards. The Ultima Weapon flew from the blonde's hands and skidded across the roof. Zidane looked up just in time to see a dark tunnel rimmed with pink gums and razor knives. He shrieked and dove under Drakja's massive form. He slid across the slippery roof and leapt up hurriedly to anticipate the next attack. Already Drakja was getting over the confusion and was turning around slowly to stare down his nemesis. The creature's red eyes were steaming with the bloodlust.
/He MUST have a weakness . . .!/ Zidane pleaded to himself. /This can't be the end . . . It CAN'T be!/
Drakja charged, barreling across the roof. Zidane grunted and dodged out of the way. Luckily, the monster missed him by at least a foot.
/Wait a minute . . . That wasn't luck . . ./
Drakja skidded and lost his balance. His hulking form crashed to the ground, causing the entire inn to shake. Zidane's bright blue eyes widened.
"What in the . . .?"
Drakja lugged himself onto his four, table-sized paws, bristling. His fur was standing on end as if he were being threatened by something. A rumbling growl escaped through the Behemoth's fiery fangs. Drakja let out a roar that could have split glass and threw himself at Zidane. The genome didn't even have to think. He simply side-stepped and watched as Drakja tripped clumsily and landed in a purple heap on the other side of the roof.
/Is it just my imagination . . . Or is Drakja getting slower . . .?/
Zidane observed this for several attacks. Indeed, with every move Drakja seemed to become more and more consumed with exhaustion. At first he thought it was because the geonome was unused to such a large, bulky form. But that didn't make sense. Drakja had started off so agile . . . And it certainly wasn't from any damage Zidane had inflicted (if he'd inflicted any at all, the genome thought bitterly . . .).
"Geez, what's your problem?!" Zidane yelled as Drakja wavered dangerously on his paws. The Behemoth snorted, steam shooting from his nostrils with rage. He roared and charged at Zidane again. But Drakja was unsteady if not weak. His hulking legs gave out from under him and, after brushing ridiculously past Zidane, he collapsed onto the roof and lay there, a panting, heaving mess of purple fur.
Zidane blinked several times, stunned. The Behemoth locked one furious red eye on him but did not get up. Then Zidane understood . . .
/Of course! It's like Kuja explained to me before! Geonomes can only hold their transformations for a certain amount of time before it exhausts them! He said Lulian was the only geonome he'd ever seen that could remain in another form for such an extended period of time! Drakja's strength has given out on him already!/
Zidane stood there for several minutes, staring at Drakja's shuddering form. The rain ran down his nose, through his clothes, icy cold. Still, he remained. He and Drakja seemed to be staring one another down. It was a fierce battle: red eyes – spilling over with vengeful hatred – versus icy blue eyes – dull with a calm, cool nature. Neither wavered for a long time. Then, all at once, the Behemoth began to shrink. Its body grew smaller and smaller, muscles weakening, violet fur melting back into clothes and skin. The blonde mane began to shorten and darken, retreating back into Drakja's soaked ponytail. Front legs shortened to feeble arms as the muzzle shrunk back into humanoid features. Within moments, the angry red of the monster's irises had spurted to emerald, glowing green. Now, all that remained of the great beast was nothing more than a geonome lying atop a thunder-shaken roof . . .
". . . What . . . Is your PROBLEM?!"
Zidane cocked his head in surprise as Drakja heaved himself angrily into a crouched position. His eyes seemed disbelieving and demanding of an explanation.
". . . What are you talking about . . .?" Zidane queried honestly.
Drakja was breathing hard with rage. "Why didn't you ATTACK me?!"
". . .What – ?"
"I was COMPLETELY vulnerable! You had enough openings to kill me a thousand times over! But you just stood there like a blank-faced, vegetable-brained MORON! WHY?!!"
Zidane stared at Drakja for several moments, glancing over the geonome's inquisitive, disappointed face. Then he smiled and gave the honest-to- goodness answer.
"I don't attack a guy who's down . . ."
Drakja's face softened and he seemed to give a phantom slump. For a moment there was only shock swirling in those angry eyes. Then it reverted back to burning – though still stunned – hatred. He rose to his feet and faced himself squarely at his enemy.
"We're not done yet . . ." he muttered indifferently. Zidane hesitated, then smiled. He knew, though it seemed as faded as a white feather against a searing blue sky, that there was admiration shining in Drakja's eyes.
And for that, it was worth it . . .
However, what wasn't done yet was not what Zidane had expected . . .
"Well?" Drakja queried, holding out his arms. "Do it. You have every right to,"
Zidane raised a curious eyebrow, his tail flicking. "Do what?"
"Argh!" Drakja pulled on his hair in frustration. "Kill me, damn it! I can't transform anymore, I no longer have the advantage, and I'm still completely vulnerable! You could stab me in the shoulder and probably kill me for the state I'm in!"
Zidane smiled. "Yes, I know. You're still down. I'm not going to attack,"
Drakja shook his head in disbelief. "You . . . are . . . an . . . idiot . . ."
"Yes, but an honorable idiot,"
Drakja sighed, but the weakness finally took its toll and he slumped to his knees like a great wind has pushed him over.
". . . I can't believe it . . ." he whispered. "You're going to stand there, and when my full strength comes back you're going to expect me to fight . . . How can you ask that of me?"
". . . I don't understand . . ."
Drakja shook his head, the matted locks of hair dangling in front of his face. "How can you ask me to kill you after you have spared my life? You know I'll have the advantage once my powers have returned. You're just waiting to die . . . Yet how could I snuff out your life and live with that guilt after you've saved me?"
Zidane's eyes narrowed. "It's never stopped you before . . ."
A flash of pain and regret crossed Drakja's face, almost making Zidane start. But then it passed and Zidane saw immediately that the geonome's strength was returning. Already, Drakja's tail was slashing through the water in agitation.
"You're right," Zidane said softly. "I SHOULD kill you now . . . You've murdered thousands, allowed one of my best friends to die, and I don't know what you did to Kuja, but I swear on my honor you will pay dearly for it someday . . ." Zidane lowered his head as if it suddenly weighed a thousand pounds. ". . . However . . . What you don't realize is that I have the advantage, not you. I am the Angel of Death; the Messenger of Chaos. If I were to Trance or tap into one of my genome powers – some of which Saishoja himself wielded before his genes were given to me – you would die. Painfully and fast. That thought never crossed your mind, did it?"
Drakja gulped. Obviously, it had not.
"Didn't you ever wonder?" Zidane queried softly. "How I defeated Kuja while he was in Trance?"
"Y-you didn't . . .!" Drakja hissed. "Kuja killed himself! I know the whole story; how he cast a miscalculated Ultima attack and blew himself out of Memoria and to his death in the Iifa Tree!"
Zidane smirked at Drakja's naivety. ". . . You're wrong . . . Think about it. Kuja would have to have been on the brink of his own demise to try something that insanely drastic while Necron watched on from above . . ."
Drakja's eyes swirled with fear. What if, after all? What if Zidane DID become the Angel of Death? Drakja would surely perish . . .
"So I'm going to make a deal with you," Zidane said softly. The blonde saw hope spring to life on Drakja's face. "I am NOT going to stop fighting you because, quite frankly, I finish what I start. Not to mention I hate your rotten, stinking guts. And I'm not going to let you go now, either. So instead, we're going to make this a fair, clean fight. Get up,"
Drakja hesitated, then rose to his feet. He was completely back to normal.
"Now," Zidane instructed. "That sword in your belt. Get rid of it,"
"What?! Why should – ?!"
Zidane slashed Drakja with a piercing glare and the geonome flinched back a step. "I am GIVING you another chance . . ." Zidane snarled dangerously. "DO NOT take advantage of that . . . Now get rid of your sword,"
Drakja made a face, but obediently gripped the hilt of his polished weapon and withdrew it. He stared down at the blade for a moment and Zidane knew he was contemplating all the possible ways he could simply spring forward, taking his enemy by surprise, and kill Zidane on the spot. Of course, Drakja quite rapidly reached the conclusion that that was stupid, impossible, and probably a death-wish. With a sigh, the geonome flung the sword sideways, straight off the roof. Zidane waited for the sound of it clattering several stories below, then nodded.
"Now the short-sword,"
Drakja's eyes narrowed and he growled faintly. This time, however, he did not protest. With a look of pure death, the geonome reached into another sheathe of his belt and yanked out the smaller weapon. With a sigh, he threw that off the roof as well.
"Are you happy now?" he queried bitterly. "You already broke my other sword," Drakja took a few steps to the right where the shattered fragments of his weapon lay and quickly flicked them off the side of the building along with the others. Zidane bit his lip and began to glance almost obnoxiously over Drakja's form. Then he made a disgusted face.
"You have another sword hidden under the back of your cloak!" the first Angel of Death accused.
"God, who the hell do you think you are?!" Drakja shrieked, reaching back under his trench-coat and withdrawing another well-cared-for blade.
"I'm someone you DON'T want to cross and who is saving your sorry ass!" Zidane bit back. He and Drakja glared at each other for a moment before Drakja dropped the sword onto the slippery roof and kicked it ferociously off to the side. It spun, then toppled over the edge along with its defeated comrades. A rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance.
"Ugh, don't even say it," Drakja snapped. He lifted both his arms slightly and reached back for his set of twin daggers. However, much to his surprise, Zidane shook his head.
"No, no. Those stay. But THAT has GOT to go . . ."
Drakja's green eyes suspiciously followed Zidane's commanding finger to the right side of his belt where the red gun lay cradled in a leather sheathe. He hissed immediately.
"Nuh uh, no way . . . I threw away my swords for you, but the gun's not going anywhere,"
"The gun goes," Zidane's voice lowered lethally. This time, however, Drakja was not backing down. He folded his arms across his chest and gave Zidane a challenging look. The genome's suspicions, however, were rising.
/He's planning something with that gun . . . There's something about that weapon that we don't know . . ./
"You have to," Zidane said simply. "Or I'll kill you,"
"I'm not getting rid of my gun," Drakja shrugged nonchalantly. Zidane's eyes narrowed. He could still hear the words in the back of his head, like Kuja's dying breath tattooed in his mind.
/It was the gun all along . . ./
It had been a warning for sure. Kuja had known something about that weapon and had given away his last ounce of life to make sure Zidane was aware of it. Drakja was DEFINITELY up to something and Zidane wasn't going to let him get away with it!
"If you think this is some sort of joke . . ." Zidane began.
"No joke," Drakja snapped. "The gun stays,"
Zidane smirked. "Then I get to use my Ultima Weapon and any Dyne Trance attack I want . . ."
Drakja's face contorted. "Why you little . . .! Fine!" Drakja yanked the gun from his sheathe and held it firmly in his hands. Then he closed his eyes and the weapon shimmered. Then it was gone.
"You see? I teleported it away. Problem solved,"
"What's stopping you from teleporting it back?!" Zidane shouted. Drakja made a derisive noise.
"I can only teleport something if I'm touching it!"
Zidane was still suspicious and he did a quick sweep of the area with his eyes to make sure the gun wasn't nearby. He didn't see it . . . But when Zidane looked back, he specifically saw Drakja tuck something into his cloak . . . A canister of some kind. Zidane had seen it before, as Drakja stood over Kuja's lifeless body . . .
"Hmm . . ."
"Well, now what?" Drakja snapped. Zidane looked up in surprise, torn violently from his thoughts, and then nodded.
"Oh, right. We're still fighting to the death . . . Okay. Here are the rules from now on. Neither of us can use ANY weapons but our daggers – "
"That applies to you too!"
Zidane rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah . . ." He quickly bent down and slid his Ultima Weapon off the roof. /Sure hope I can retrieve that later . . ./.
"And . . ." Zidane continued. "You can't transform. There will be no dirty shots, like knocking someone across the head so that they're dazed and then stabbing them. Nothing like that. We are – or, at least, should be – civilized people. Understood?"
"Understood,"
"Good. Then let's get ready to rumble . . ."
A flash of lightning tore the sky as if it were snickering down upon the two creations, each cradling a dagger glinting sharply in each hand. There was silence, and then they dove recklessly into their melee of death . . .
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"This storm . . . It's getting worse," Steiner muttered, looking concernedly out the window as black rain splattered violently against it. He turned around and glanced back at Garnet cautiously. She sat hunched over on the Alexandrian throne, her eyes distant.
"Your Majesty . . . Is something wrong?" the knight queried. Garnet started and looked up.
"Ah, no, no . . . It's nothing you would be concerned about," /What if something happens to Kuja because of me . . .?/
". . . I do not understand . . ."
Garnet smiled softly at her loyal guardian and friend. ". . . I didn't think you would,"
"Your Majesty, I am requesting immediate permission to round up the Alexandrian soldiers NOW!"
General Beatrix, her hair wet and in disarray, came skidding into the throne-room. Her one eye was wide and panic was written all across her face. Garnet sat up in surprise, feeling a tingling sensation running up her spine.
"Wh-why?"
"There's a fight!" Beatrix choked out, trying to catch her breath. "A report was just sent from a local inn. The desk clerk and a family checking in saw and heard the whole thing. They're fighting on the roof!"
Garnet hesitated. "A-alright. D-do whatever it takes . . ."
"But Your Majesty," Beatrix raced forward and clenched Garnet's hands tightly as she collapsed down on one knee before the regal throne. "You don't understand . . .! It's Zidane! And from the reports it sounds like . . . It sounds like he's fighting Drakja! Alone!"
Garnet gasped and leapt to her feet. Beatrix quickly stood up and backed away as the horror finally sunk into Garnet's delicately featured face.
/. . . Zidane . . .!/
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"Is that the best you've got, punk?!" Drakja taunted as he leapt away from one of Zidane's deadly blades.
"Psh! You wish!" Zidane gave a violent swing and threw his dagger fiercely at Drakja's midriff. The geonome ducked and then rolled out of the way as Zidane sprung over his head and grabbed the weapon from mid-air. Already the fight was becoming more and more deadly. Every time one of the creations slashed, the blade came a little closer than the previous time. Tempers were rising at an alarmingly rapid rate.
"Ha!" Zidane ran forward and cut a wide arc with his dagger. Drakja caught Zidane's arm and leapt backwards. Zidane stumbled forward from the sudden loss of a hold, then dropped to the roof as his nemesis aimed a well-placed kick at his head. Zidane felt the fabric of Drakja's pants brush his golden hair.
/Close . . . Too close . . ./
"Come on!" Drakja shouted. "You could kill me from sheer boredom!"
"Shut . . . UP!!!" Zidane whipped around and lunged. His blade glinted and in the two seconds that he soared, Zidane realized the point was too close for Drakja to dodge it.
/I got him!/
"Ah – what?!" Zidane tripped on the slippery rain as his body hit a rush of air. He hit the roof hard and skidded. His dagger flew from his hand and clattered several feet away.
/What the . . .?!/
Zidane pulled himself up and looked around in confusion.
/He . . . He's gone!/
"STUPID!!!"
Drakja materialized smack dab in Zidane's face like a flash of darkness. The blonde didn't even have a chance to cry out before a wet boot caught him under the chin and flung him backwards so hard that he felt his head snap back; twisted. Zidane's body fell limp against the roof where he lay there stunned, grinding his teeth with pain.
"You . . . cheated . . ." the genome managed to gasp out as he attempted to retrieve his scattered breath. He could hear dull footsteps coming closer.
Drakja smirked, his shadow looming over Zidane's shivering form. "All's fair,"
"But you said – !"
Drakja laughed. "Ah, but you don't have the strength to do anything dangerous to me now. I could finish you off in one . . . quick . . . stroke,"
Zidane spat blood at the geonome's feet. "Bastard! Hyah!" His blade seemed to come from nowhere, having been hidden beneath his body. Drakja just barely managed to leap out of the way. What he didn't expect, however, was for Zidane to suddenly throw himself straight at his nemesis. The dagger plunged deep into Drakja's midriff, spurting his crimson blood. Drakja let out a cry of pain and his back hit the roof with a thud as Zidane pushed off and leapt over his head, dagger still in hand. The geonome gasped with pain.
"You . . . mother . . . FUCKER!!!"
Drakja scrambled to his feet and let out a fierce cry. A crack of lightning fizzled in the air, lighting the city of Alexandria. A commotion could be heard from below and the sound of unsheathing weapons. The two enemies, however, ignored it. All else was forgotten: pain, fear . . . family. All that mattered was the death of the other. To feel warm blood seeping over a hand cradling a crimson-bathed blade. Yes . . . That would be the only bliss. The high . . .
The bloodlust was back . . .
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"The brown-haired man!" Beatrix screamed at her soldiers. "Can you hit the brown-haired man?!"
She stomped up and down the lines of warriors that encircled the unfortunate inn. Many of the women were wielding swords. Most, on the other hand, were aiming taut bows up at the roof where the battle drifted in and out of darkness like a candle just fighting to stay alive.
At first the situation had seemed bad. Then it had seemed like a nightmare. Upon reaching the inn, the desk-clerk was immediately questioned. That was when they had learned the truth . . .
Kuja was up there too . . .
But they didn't see him fighting. It had dawned on Beatrix then that Kuja could be seriously hurt if not already dead. Only that could have driven Zidane to such madness as to challenge Drakja alone. And that alone could be the only reason Kuja hadn't already ripped Drakja's lungs out for endangering his brother . . .
"General Beatrix!" one of the recruits – a captain – addressed. "The soldiers are ready, but what you ask is impossible! We cannot aim and ensure the life of the queen's fiancé at the same time!" She had to shout just to be heard over the din of the storm.
Beatrix growled but knew – had known the entire time – the truth in this frightful statement.
"Hold your posts!" the one-eyed general shrieked. "If I see even one arrow being lowered I will deal with the culprit PERSONALY! Is that understood?!" Murmurs of assent could be heard from up and down the rows of nervous female warriors. Steiner was shouting at the Pluto Knights, just trying to get them to string their bows right. Beatrix circled the entire perimeter of the inn, checking to see which of her soldiers were in the best positions to shoot.
"An opening!" one of the captains cried as a flash of lightning revealed Drakja to be standing over Zidane's fallen body. Beatrix looked up and her face filled with fear.
"HOLD YOUR FIRE!!!"
And just in time, too. The three surprised Alexandrian soldiers who had been told to shoot were only able to shift their aim a split second before Zidane suddenly lunged himself at Drakja. The fighters vanished into darkness once more. The soldiers with the arrows had, in fact, released their weapons. The deadly arrows clattered against the side of the inn and fell into the gutters of the street.
"Oh Shiva . . ." Beatrix let out a gasp of relief and nearly collapsed from the sudden drop in adrenaline. "Somebody up there has a serious crush on you, Zidane . . ."
"Your orders, General?" came a timid yet stern voice at the woman's side. One of the captains stood looking inquisitively up at the general. Beatrix glanced past the young woman and to Steiner who stood several yards away with the water running in rivulets down his armor. The two nodded in mutual agreement.
"There is nothing we can do. We will wait here and see what happens . . ."
"I only pray to the gods Zidane can take care of himself . . ."
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"Sir, I'm afraid you are going to have to go back home,"
"But I've just come all the way from the Outer Continent on urgent matters!"
"I'm sorry but there's a major fight going on nearby and all the troops are being utilized to stop it. I'm afraid the city's in a lock-down until then,"
Mr. 41's lamp-like eyes widened in disbelief as the young guard blocked his way onto the gondola at Alexandria Castle. Vivi's children hovered miserably behind him, whimpering and complaining about cold and wet.
"I . . . I don't think you understand . . ." Mr. 41 seemed to beg.
"I don't think YOU understand . . ." the guard folded her arms across her chest and glared at the Black Mage from beneath her over-sized helmet. "One of the geonomes – the creatures that destroyed Esto Gaza, Dali, and parts of Alexandria – is fighting Queen Garnet's fiancé. The LEADER of the geonomes, in fact. The future of Alexandria is in jeopardy right now. So I think it would benefit you greatly if you would just – Wait! Where are you going?!"
"Get those kids into the castle, they belong to Sir Vivi!" Mr. 41 shouted over his shoulder as he tore away from the moat. "I have to find Zidane!"
"But – Oh DAMN it . . ." The guard slumped back against the gate-pole, pouting. She flinched when she felt someone poke her in the leg.
"Huh? Oh . . . The kids. Right. I'd better go alert the queen and her companions, this might be important . . ."
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Zidane screamed as he felt the sleek metal of the blade cut through his arm. He stumbled sideways, falling into Drakja. The two collapsed onto the roof, Drakja shrieking as his wounds hit concrete.
"B-bastard!" Zidane gasped, blood running down his chin. He thrust his dagger down like a knife, aiming for Drakja's head. The geonome rolled out from under him, knocking his enemy over, and grabbed Zidane's hair fiercely. Zidane cried out as Drakja yanked his head back while the two lay sprawled out on the roof. Zidane scrambled out of the way as a burst of thunder wrenched the sky. Drakja let out a snarl and dragged himself forward across the roof as if his legs were paralyzed. Zidane stood, trembling, and backed up. He fell and kicked Drakja in the face as he landed. The geonome shrieked and coughed up blood.
Any normal creature would have been dead. Both Zidane and Drakja had been stabbed, kicked, slashed, and brutally beaten. Yet they persisted. Being creations of Garland, they were nearly unstoppable even against each other. Where any mortal would have died, they lived on. Suffered.
"I'm gonna kill you! What the HELL did you do to my brother?!" Zidane sobbed, collapsing on top of Drakja and wrapping his fingers tightly around his enemy's throat. Drakja clawed at Zidane's face with one hand, his teeth bared. With his other hand he cut Zidane across the chest with a dagger, forcing Zidane to fall back. The blonde moaned, then lunged forward weakly. He shoved Drakja down and slashed his dagger through Drakja's stomach.
"Ngh!"
Then, all at once, Drakja thrust himself straight into Zidane, his twin blades glinting in the rain. Zidane growled and caught the daggers with his own . . .
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"General Beatrix, they've locked daggers!" a captain informed the worried woman. Beatrix nodded.
"I know, I know! Everyone, stand your ground and – who the hell are you?"
The last thing General Beatrix or anyone had expected to see what standing right in front of her.
"A Black Mage?" Steiner blinked stupidly.
"Please, please! I must speak with Zidane!" the Black Mage seemed to have run from somewhere far away as he fought against several soldiers holding him back. Beatrix frowned, then moved forward.
"What is the meaning of this?!" she snapped. The Black Mage looked up at her fearfully.
"It's about Zidane's sister, Mikoto! She vanished weeks ago!"
Beatrix's eye widened. ". . . Oh . . . my . . . god . . ."
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They were weakening, the both of them. Zidane's arms were trembling violently as he held Drakja's daggers at bay. Yet he could see the agony twisting on Drakja's face as well.
/I . . . I don't know how much longer I can hold this!/
"Give up!" Drakja hissed.
"Not before you do!"
And then it was gone. The will to fight, the will to live, the will to die, the will to bleed, the will to even watch the enemy suffer.
Gone . . .
And they both collapsed. Zidane and Drakja simply collapsed. They lay half on top of each other, breathing hard, unable to move. Their daggers slipped from their hands as the rain pattered hard against their ruined bodies.
How long they remained like that, seemingly dead, even the onlookers didn't know. As Beatrix and the soldiers began to fear the worst, Zidane and Drakja simply closed their eyes and lay atop the roof. Silence descended, broken only by the moaning of the thunder above.
". . . We're idiots, aren't we?" Zidane whispered.
"And how . . ."
A faint chuckle escaped Zidane's lips. "We fought to kill one another . . . And never thought we might be killing ourselves . . ."
Drakja nodded, too exhausted to speak.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" the blonde genome queried. Drakja grimaced.
"A draw," he rasped.
". . . Yes . . ."
Drakja sighed and rose slowly to his feet. Zidane soon followed him. They stared at each other for a moment and a contract seemed to form between them. They were safe . . . For now . . .
"We are equally matched, Angel of Death," Drakja whispered, perching himself up on the ledge of the roof and tucking his daggers back into his sheathe. "But when we meet again, that will not be the case . . ."
Zidane glared at him tiredly with bloodshot eyes. "Indeed . . ."
Drakja licked his bloody lips. "And know this . . . This fight isn't over,"
"No, it isn't . . ."
And then Drakja was gone. Just like that. And Zidane felt he'd lost something else with his departure . . .
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"It's over!" Steiner gasped. "Beatrix, dear, it's over! Drakja, he's left!"
"Oh, thank god . . ." Beatrix closed her eye. "Hurry, though! Zidane, he's injured! We've got to get up there NOW!" She turned to the squirming Black Mage nearby. "You too!"
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Zidane dropped to his knees with exhaustion. It felt like the very life was being drained out of him, washing away in the rain. Everything was hazy and numb. The genome ignored his agony, however, now bent on one thing . . .
"Kuja . . ." Zidane seemed to plead as he dragged himself up beside his brother's unmoving body. "Kuja . . . Please . . ."
There was nothing save the rumble of thunder. Zidane reached out slowly and touched his brother's arm. Cold . . . So cold . . . Everything was cold. Darkness seemed to overtake his vision.
"Kuja . . . Wake up . . ." Zidane gently shook the warlock's shoulder. There was no response. "Please . . . Wake up . . ."
It was like Kuja wasn't there. Zidane barely had the strength to acknowledge this strange revelation. It felt like Kuja was a million miles away. Like Zidane could reach out and touch Kuja's face yet never feel it.
". . . Please . . ."
"Zidane! Oh god, Zidane are you alright?!"
It was everyone, the crew, Beatrix, Garnet, everyone . . . They all looked so scared as their hair frizzed with rain. The sploosh of water filled Zidane's ears thickly as they crowded in around him.
"Fine . . ." he rasped. "I'm fine . . ."
"Oh, Zidane you're hurt!" Garnet dropped down at her fiancé's side and hugged him gently. "We should go get Doctor Tot,"
"Zidane . . . What happened to Kuja?" Beatrix was staring down at the warlock's body nervously.
". . . He won't wake up . . ." Zidane muttered thickly.
"Zidane, I have urgent news!" came an unfamiliar voice a few feet away.
"Can it, moron! Not now!" That was definitely Amarant.
Beatrix turned Kuja carefully onto his back, revealing his pale face. The others stared down at him with concern. He looked nothing more than asleep . . . Yet that pained look on his face . . .
So much like death . . .
"What is this . . .?" Eiko whimpered.
"Kuja!" Beatrix called, shaking the warlock's shoulders. She might as well have shaken a corpse for all the good it did.
". . . He will not wake . . ."
The team whipped around at the familiar voice. It was her, the woman with the purple eyes. She stood on the stairs of the trap-door to the roof, her face somber.
"Wh-why not?" Vivi queried cautiously. The woman lowered her head in apology and despair.
". . . I have much explaining to do . . ."
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A/N: LONGEST CHAPTER YET!!! TWENTY-TWO PAGES!!! WHEEE! So? How was it? Good? Bad? Worthy of cookies? Craptastic? Alright, seriously, how cool was Zidane in this chapter? I mean, he FINALLY did something! A lot of something! Dude, he was practically knocking Drakja senseless (take that!). I couldn't help, however, but notice a lack of other characters in this chapter. But that's alright 'cause EVERYONE'S gonna be in the next one. Hard to believe, though, isn't it? Mr. 41 actually made it to Alexandria . . . I'll bet you people thought that would NEVER happen . . . But here he is! And now Zidane's going to know about Mikoto. But what about Kuja?!?! What did evil, heartless BMD do to him?! Must . . . not . . . mention . . . name . . . of really smart . . . reviewer-person . . . But sadly enough, the next chapter is the last chapter before the "downward spiral." Everything (I mean, everything) is revealed in the next chapter EXCEPT for the details about Drakja and Saishoja. We don't find ANYTHING out about them until practically the last chapter. Then, once the heroes know what's going on, it's off to the final stages of Return of the Destroyed! Here's the progress update: Out of 172 scenes TOTAL in this story (that includes the epilogue) we just finished scene # 151. In other words, there's only *gasp* twenty more scenes left in this entire story! We're . . . We're almost home-free! But still . . . What horror can BMD wreak upon this unsuspecting cast within twenty scenes . . .? Bwahaha. So stay tuned! And Kuja-fans . . . Prepare to cry your eyes out next chapter; for more reasons than one . . . (Don't worry, I'll be cryin' right along with ya . . .).
REEAAADDDD ANNDDD REEVVVIIIIEEEEEWWWWWW!!!!!!!
Disclaimer: Moi? Own Final Fantasy? Why, if I did, Final Fantasy IX would have a sequel movie, too . . . And yeah *rant rant*
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"Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing."
– Macbeth, William Shakespeare
Zidane was unable to utter a word. What it was that he was seeing, he remained unsure. But only two thoughts managed to come together in his mind: Kuja was in trouble, and Drakja was at fault. Both spelled death for the geonome.
Drakja tore his blazing green eyes from Zidane's face and lowered them down to Kuja's unmoving, lithe form.
". . . Poor thing . . ." the sinister man whispered softly. "You fought it so long . . . But in the end you realized . . . There was never really a battle to begin with . . ."
/Wh-what is he saying . . .?!/ Zidane felt himself gripped with fear. /Kuja couldn't be . . . No, he's not! He's breathing, I can see it from here . . ./
"You never completely understood," Drakja continued, staring down piteously at Kuja's form. "You had guesses, yes. And in your subconscious you always knew. And when you realized the truth, you gave up. It was so much easier, wasn't it? Poor, poor thing . . ." Drakja stooped slightly and ran the back of his hand delicately over Kuja's sopping silver hair.
As if he was petting him like a dog . . .
Zidane felt rage boiling up within him like some violent beast was attempting to tear his rib-cage apart. Anger began to build. Then hate. No one . . . No one had the right to treat his brother this way . . .
"Take . . . your fucking hands . . . off of him . . ." Zidane hissed. His voice was soft, dangerous, lethal. It could barely be heard above the din of the storm, yet Drakja caught every last word of it. The geonome straightened himself, smirking, and Zidane saw him hide something behind his back; like a canister of some sort.
"So what are you going to do about it?" Drakja queried. "I'm done. I've done my task. My part in Garland's plan is over for the most part. So what are you going to do about it?"
"Do about WHAT?" Zidane snarled. Drakja grinned.
"My victory,"
"What, killing Kuja?" Zidane's aqua blue eyes narrowed accusingly. "Congratulations, bastard,"
"Kill him?" Drakja seemed amused. "No, no, never kill him. Why would I want to harm such a delicate creature, hmm?" He glanced down at Kuja almost . . . lovingly. "No, my orders were to keep him alive,"
"Then what the hell did you do to him?"
"What did I do?" Drakja's green eyes were dancing in the rain. "I freed him. Freed him from the confines of this accursed shell he calls a body . . . I freed Them. I saved your brother's so-called life. You should be bowing down before me and begging to do me favors. My dear Angel of Death, you should be kissing my feet . . ."
". . . I would rather DIE . . ." Zidane could feel his patience beginning to fray. He didn't understand a word Drakja was saying, and there was a dull pounding in his ears.
"Oh, that can be arranged," Drakja smiled cutely. Zidane's mind was beginning to flood with suspicion again. The overlord was planning something . . .
"Would you like to try?" Zidane raised an eyebrow and put his hands on his hips. Drakja folded his arms across his chest, looking mildly surprised.
"What's this? Is the second-soul genome challenging Garland's first-soul creation?"
"I dunno. Am I?"
"I think you are," Drakja looked delighted. Obviously, he'd been waiting for this opportunity for a very long time. "Come then. Attack me, oh great Angel of Death. Show me your best,"
Zidane frowned. Drakja's voice contained too much rapture for his liking. There was definitely something else going on . . .
For a moment, Zidane stood there and allowed the rain to lash against his face. Then a cry arose from his lips and he charged. Drakja did so as well, drawing a massive blade from his sheathe as he dove through the air. Zidane reached back and withdrew the Ultima Weapon, which gleamed menacingly in the black night. The two creations met head-on and their weapons collided. A loud clang filled the air, and the reverberation of the impact sent the two enemies skidding backwards. Water spurted from their paths. His arms already aching, Zidane grit his teeth.
/This is going to be more difficult than I thought . . . Gods only know how many weapons Drakja has on hand . . . And I don't want to get Kuja involved . . ./
Zidane knew immediately that he had to move the battle towards the center of the rooftop, away from Kuja's prone form.
Zidane swerved around, forming a semi-circle and attacking Drakja from the side in the hopes of driving him out of the way. What the genome thought would be a painful swish of his scythe was blocked by a simple flick of the wrist. Zidane stumbled backwards, shocked as the double ends of his weapon shivered in his hands.
/He blocked that like it was nothing!/
Drakja smiled, the doom eminent on his nemesis's face.
"Having second thoughts, Angel of Death?"
"Not even slightly!"
Zidane gripped the middle handle that connected the two ends of his blades and drove forward again. He put all his force and, taking advantage of gravity and the monstrous weight of his sword, brought the Ultima Weapon careening through the air. Drakja blocked it, but Zidane came right back. Caught off guard, Drakja took a step backwards to receive the third blow. Zidane realized his plan was working. Step by step, every clash of their swords was driving Drakja further and further away from Zidane's unconscious brother.
Unfortunately, with every clang Drakja's fury was becoming clearer and clearer. If Zidane pushed too hard, he knew he would regret it with his life.
"Aha!" Drakja cackled and suddenly lunged beneath one of Zidane's blows. He rammed into the genome's chest, knocking the wind out of him. Zidane skidded backwards onto the roof, water pooling up around him. He lay there for a moment, stunned. Drakja smirked and twirled his blade.
"Is that the best you've got?" the green-eyed man taunted.
"Of course it isn't!" Zidane hissed, trying to hide his pain. It felt like his ribs had been hit by an anvil. They were definitely bruised.
"So get up,"
"I am!" Zidane bit his lip, tasting blood, and rose shakily to his feet. The world spun, but he didn't let Drakja see it. Gripping his weapon tightly, Zidane prepared for more combat.
". . . Come and get it . . ."
Water streamed off Zidane's Ultima Weapon as he swung it in a sideways arc towards Drakja's body. Drakja dodged it and moved in for an opening. Zidane backpedaled slightly, shielding his body with his blades. Drakja laughed and leapt into the air.
"Nng!" Zidane, still dizzy, stepped too far back and slipped. He landed hard and raised his swords in defense. Drakja came down on top of him, but Zidane caught his enemy's weapon and flung him backwards over his own head. Drakja landed lightly on his feet and skid, then charged forward once more as if he had a boundless source of energy. Zidane leapt hurriedly to his feet, preparing to take on another hit.
Within moments, Zidane realized the truth behind the brewing battle. It was completely and utterly unfair. Drakja had more weapons and hadn't just run halfway across a city. He was going to beat Zidane not out of skill, but simply out of luck.
"Damn it . . ." the blonde muttered as Drakja's sword whizzed by overhead. /I've got to catch him off guard . . . Somehow . . ./
Zidane waited, continuing to dodge and parry. He knew there was one way he could beat Drakja, but he'd have to hold off. It had to be the right moment . . .
/Now!/
Drakja brought his blade in sideway, trying to trip Zidane. The genome leapt up, surprising his nemesis, and then stomped down hard. He literally jumped on the flat of Drakja's weapon. However, Drakja "forgot" to let go and – after being jerked forward by his own sword – he fell face forward onto the rooftop with his sword beneath Zidane's boot. The genome stepped back, growling.
"Gotcha,"
Drakja pulled himself up onto his hands and knees, shaking the water out of his hair like a dog. Then he laughed.
"Clever, Angel of Death. Very clever. Rather . . . Rather funny, actually," he chuckled, dragging himself to his feet and reaching down to retrieve his sword. However, Zidane brought his Ultima Weapon screaming through the air as if aiming for Drakja's hand. The geonome pulled his arm back, gasping, and Zidane saw his face flood with fear at how narrowly the mammoth blade had missed his outstretched, vulnerable arm. However, his face became twice as frightened when he saw where the Ultima Weapon had landed.
Drakja's sword – a very nice one, in fact – was cleaved cleanly in two. The separated pieces, cut through the blade itself, lay there uselessly, their luster seemingly gone. Drakja's green eyes went dull.
"You . . . You cut my sword in half . . ."
"Yes. You can count, can't you?" Zidane mocked. "One, two. Two pieces of your sword,"
Drakja's eyes narrowed. "You think you're very smart, don't you, Angel of Death? Garland thinks you're wonderful . . . Kuja's always been jealous . . . You think you're just SO damn great . . ."
Zidane raised an eyebrow. "Better than YOU, yes,"
"Oh, but you're not," Drakja rose slowly, the rain running off his beige, leathery trench-coat. The ends of his garment floated eerily in the ever- rising waters. "You underestimated me . . . again. You see, not only do I have MANY more swords and weapons where that came from AND at my disposal . . . but apparently you've forgotten that I have certain other . . . abilities . . . that you, yourself, could never possess,"
"Is that so?"
Though Zidane sounded confident, he knew deep down that he was pushing far too many buttons. Indeed, he remembered a conversation he'd had with Kuja ONLY on the techniques of geonomes. They were deadly foes, weapons or not. But in the heat of the battle, Zidane didn't think fast enough to anticipate Drakja's next move . . .
Drakja bared his teeth in a menacing grin. Zidane frowned, unsure of what the geonome was doing. Then he felt the first stab of fear since the battle began.
Drakja's teeth were lengthening, curving into points. His canines grew down over his chin into jagged, serrated fangs. His coffee-colored hair was yellowing at the roots. The abnormal color trickled down to the very last tip just as his hair began to melt into his body. It fanned out, trailing down his back like furred dragon spikes. His face narrowed, then stretched out into a thick muzzle. Violet fur began to erupt from his skin as his arms and legs thickened and grew to massive, tree-trunk sized proportions. Powerful muscles rippled and tensed beneath his flesh as his thin geonome tail doubled up and sprouted into a serpent-sized appendage ending in a crimson fin, glistening with bloody scales. His nails stretched and cracked, morphing into yellow, dirty claws that were bigger than entire fingers. His body seemed to explode as it grew larger, larger, till he was more than ten feet high and the two inky black horns on his head seemed to brush the heavens. His arms became as long as his legs, toppling his body down onto all fours with a thud. His eyes became slit- red sockets, deep and glowing. An unearthly growl arose from the monster's throat and it took a menacing step forward. There was a crash and the entire roof shook with its force. Zidane couldn't even believe it . . .
Drakja had become a Behemoth . . .
/Oh CRAP, they're shapeshifters! How could I forget?!/
The behemoth shook out its golden mane, spraying water everywhere, and curled its lip. The creature roared, snapping its powerful jaws, then moved forward to circle again. Zidane clutched his Ultima Weapon desperately.
/I'm not going to win this! I can't take on an entire Behemoth myself! And this one has human-like intelligence!/
Zidane backed up, nearly blanked out with fear. Drakja bore down above him, his shadow falling across Zidane's body. The water on the roof sloshed with his immense weight as the creature snarled, revealing its glistening, saliva-coated fangs.
"Ah, get back you FREAK!!!" Zidane rushed forward quite suddenly, slashing at Drakja's front leg. The monster simply lifted a clawed paw and swatted Zidane away. The genome stumbled backwards, avoiding the fierce talons. Unfortunately, he was too slow . . . Thin tears appeared suddenly across Zidane's rain-soaked shirt. Red began to blossom beneath it. The behemoth made a coughing sound. Zidane realized the monster was laughing . . .
Drakja moved in again, whipping his neck fiercely and snapping his lethal jaws. Zidane leapt out of the way, then sprung backwards as Drakja lunged for the kill. It was steadily becoming a game of avoid and attack. Drakja would rush at Zidane, Zidane would dodge him. The genome would do this for several turns, then spring in for an opening if given the chance. But his moves seemed to do little or nothing to faze the great beast . . .
"God, DIE already!" Zidane slashed Drakja across the muzzle with his Ultima Weapon. The Behemoth roared and reared backwards, blood spewing from his violet-furred nose. He came back down with a crash and began bucking wildly around the roof, shaking his head fiercely. Zidane just barely avoided being impaled by those monstrous claws.
/Crap . . ./ Zidane thought hurriedly. /This is getting dangerous, and Kuja's still really vulnerable . . . What is Drakja's weakness?/
The Behemoth charged suddenly, ramming Zidane hard in the chest and throwing him backwards. The Ultima Weapon flew from the blonde's hands and skidded across the roof. Zidane looked up just in time to see a dark tunnel rimmed with pink gums and razor knives. He shrieked and dove under Drakja's massive form. He slid across the slippery roof and leapt up hurriedly to anticipate the next attack. Already Drakja was getting over the confusion and was turning around slowly to stare down his nemesis. The creature's red eyes were steaming with the bloodlust.
/He MUST have a weakness . . .!/ Zidane pleaded to himself. /This can't be the end . . . It CAN'T be!/
Drakja charged, barreling across the roof. Zidane grunted and dodged out of the way. Luckily, the monster missed him by at least a foot.
/Wait a minute . . . That wasn't luck . . ./
Drakja skidded and lost his balance. His hulking form crashed to the ground, causing the entire inn to shake. Zidane's bright blue eyes widened.
"What in the . . .?"
Drakja lugged himself onto his four, table-sized paws, bristling. His fur was standing on end as if he were being threatened by something. A rumbling growl escaped through the Behemoth's fiery fangs. Drakja let out a roar that could have split glass and threw himself at Zidane. The genome didn't even have to think. He simply side-stepped and watched as Drakja tripped clumsily and landed in a purple heap on the other side of the roof.
/Is it just my imagination . . . Or is Drakja getting slower . . .?/
Zidane observed this for several attacks. Indeed, with every move Drakja seemed to become more and more consumed with exhaustion. At first he thought it was because the geonome was unused to such a large, bulky form. But that didn't make sense. Drakja had started off so agile . . . And it certainly wasn't from any damage Zidane had inflicted (if he'd inflicted any at all, the genome thought bitterly . . .).
"Geez, what's your problem?!" Zidane yelled as Drakja wavered dangerously on his paws. The Behemoth snorted, steam shooting from his nostrils with rage. He roared and charged at Zidane again. But Drakja was unsteady if not weak. His hulking legs gave out from under him and, after brushing ridiculously past Zidane, he collapsed onto the roof and lay there, a panting, heaving mess of purple fur.
Zidane blinked several times, stunned. The Behemoth locked one furious red eye on him but did not get up. Then Zidane understood . . .
/Of course! It's like Kuja explained to me before! Geonomes can only hold their transformations for a certain amount of time before it exhausts them! He said Lulian was the only geonome he'd ever seen that could remain in another form for such an extended period of time! Drakja's strength has given out on him already!/
Zidane stood there for several minutes, staring at Drakja's shuddering form. The rain ran down his nose, through his clothes, icy cold. Still, he remained. He and Drakja seemed to be staring one another down. It was a fierce battle: red eyes – spilling over with vengeful hatred – versus icy blue eyes – dull with a calm, cool nature. Neither wavered for a long time. Then, all at once, the Behemoth began to shrink. Its body grew smaller and smaller, muscles weakening, violet fur melting back into clothes and skin. The blonde mane began to shorten and darken, retreating back into Drakja's soaked ponytail. Front legs shortened to feeble arms as the muzzle shrunk back into humanoid features. Within moments, the angry red of the monster's irises had spurted to emerald, glowing green. Now, all that remained of the great beast was nothing more than a geonome lying atop a thunder-shaken roof . . .
". . . What . . . Is your PROBLEM?!"
Zidane cocked his head in surprise as Drakja heaved himself angrily into a crouched position. His eyes seemed disbelieving and demanding of an explanation.
". . . What are you talking about . . .?" Zidane queried honestly.
Drakja was breathing hard with rage. "Why didn't you ATTACK me?!"
". . .What – ?"
"I was COMPLETELY vulnerable! You had enough openings to kill me a thousand times over! But you just stood there like a blank-faced, vegetable-brained MORON! WHY?!!"
Zidane stared at Drakja for several moments, glancing over the geonome's inquisitive, disappointed face. Then he smiled and gave the honest-to- goodness answer.
"I don't attack a guy who's down . . ."
Drakja's face softened and he seemed to give a phantom slump. For a moment there was only shock swirling in those angry eyes. Then it reverted back to burning – though still stunned – hatred. He rose to his feet and faced himself squarely at his enemy.
"We're not done yet . . ." he muttered indifferently. Zidane hesitated, then smiled. He knew, though it seemed as faded as a white feather against a searing blue sky, that there was admiration shining in Drakja's eyes.
And for that, it was worth it . . .
However, what wasn't done yet was not what Zidane had expected . . .
"Well?" Drakja queried, holding out his arms. "Do it. You have every right to,"
Zidane raised a curious eyebrow, his tail flicking. "Do what?"
"Argh!" Drakja pulled on his hair in frustration. "Kill me, damn it! I can't transform anymore, I no longer have the advantage, and I'm still completely vulnerable! You could stab me in the shoulder and probably kill me for the state I'm in!"
Zidane smiled. "Yes, I know. You're still down. I'm not going to attack,"
Drakja shook his head in disbelief. "You . . . are . . . an . . . idiot . . ."
"Yes, but an honorable idiot,"
Drakja sighed, but the weakness finally took its toll and he slumped to his knees like a great wind has pushed him over.
". . . I can't believe it . . ." he whispered. "You're going to stand there, and when my full strength comes back you're going to expect me to fight . . . How can you ask that of me?"
". . . I don't understand . . ."
Drakja shook his head, the matted locks of hair dangling in front of his face. "How can you ask me to kill you after you have spared my life? You know I'll have the advantage once my powers have returned. You're just waiting to die . . . Yet how could I snuff out your life and live with that guilt after you've saved me?"
Zidane's eyes narrowed. "It's never stopped you before . . ."
A flash of pain and regret crossed Drakja's face, almost making Zidane start. But then it passed and Zidane saw immediately that the geonome's strength was returning. Already, Drakja's tail was slashing through the water in agitation.
"You're right," Zidane said softly. "I SHOULD kill you now . . . You've murdered thousands, allowed one of my best friends to die, and I don't know what you did to Kuja, but I swear on my honor you will pay dearly for it someday . . ." Zidane lowered his head as if it suddenly weighed a thousand pounds. ". . . However . . . What you don't realize is that I have the advantage, not you. I am the Angel of Death; the Messenger of Chaos. If I were to Trance or tap into one of my genome powers – some of which Saishoja himself wielded before his genes were given to me – you would die. Painfully and fast. That thought never crossed your mind, did it?"
Drakja gulped. Obviously, it had not.
"Didn't you ever wonder?" Zidane queried softly. "How I defeated Kuja while he was in Trance?"
"Y-you didn't . . .!" Drakja hissed. "Kuja killed himself! I know the whole story; how he cast a miscalculated Ultima attack and blew himself out of Memoria and to his death in the Iifa Tree!"
Zidane smirked at Drakja's naivety. ". . . You're wrong . . . Think about it. Kuja would have to have been on the brink of his own demise to try something that insanely drastic while Necron watched on from above . . ."
Drakja's eyes swirled with fear. What if, after all? What if Zidane DID become the Angel of Death? Drakja would surely perish . . .
"So I'm going to make a deal with you," Zidane said softly. The blonde saw hope spring to life on Drakja's face. "I am NOT going to stop fighting you because, quite frankly, I finish what I start. Not to mention I hate your rotten, stinking guts. And I'm not going to let you go now, either. So instead, we're going to make this a fair, clean fight. Get up,"
Drakja hesitated, then rose to his feet. He was completely back to normal.
"Now," Zidane instructed. "That sword in your belt. Get rid of it,"
"What?! Why should – ?!"
Zidane slashed Drakja with a piercing glare and the geonome flinched back a step. "I am GIVING you another chance . . ." Zidane snarled dangerously. "DO NOT take advantage of that . . . Now get rid of your sword,"
Drakja made a face, but obediently gripped the hilt of his polished weapon and withdrew it. He stared down at the blade for a moment and Zidane knew he was contemplating all the possible ways he could simply spring forward, taking his enemy by surprise, and kill Zidane on the spot. Of course, Drakja quite rapidly reached the conclusion that that was stupid, impossible, and probably a death-wish. With a sigh, the geonome flung the sword sideways, straight off the roof. Zidane waited for the sound of it clattering several stories below, then nodded.
"Now the short-sword,"
Drakja's eyes narrowed and he growled faintly. This time, however, he did not protest. With a look of pure death, the geonome reached into another sheathe of his belt and yanked out the smaller weapon. With a sigh, he threw that off the roof as well.
"Are you happy now?" he queried bitterly. "You already broke my other sword," Drakja took a few steps to the right where the shattered fragments of his weapon lay and quickly flicked them off the side of the building along with the others. Zidane bit his lip and began to glance almost obnoxiously over Drakja's form. Then he made a disgusted face.
"You have another sword hidden under the back of your cloak!" the first Angel of Death accused.
"God, who the hell do you think you are?!" Drakja shrieked, reaching back under his trench-coat and withdrawing another well-cared-for blade.
"I'm someone you DON'T want to cross and who is saving your sorry ass!" Zidane bit back. He and Drakja glared at each other for a moment before Drakja dropped the sword onto the slippery roof and kicked it ferociously off to the side. It spun, then toppled over the edge along with its defeated comrades. A rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance.
"Ugh, don't even say it," Drakja snapped. He lifted both his arms slightly and reached back for his set of twin daggers. However, much to his surprise, Zidane shook his head.
"No, no. Those stay. But THAT has GOT to go . . ."
Drakja's green eyes suspiciously followed Zidane's commanding finger to the right side of his belt where the red gun lay cradled in a leather sheathe. He hissed immediately.
"Nuh uh, no way . . . I threw away my swords for you, but the gun's not going anywhere,"
"The gun goes," Zidane's voice lowered lethally. This time, however, Drakja was not backing down. He folded his arms across his chest and gave Zidane a challenging look. The genome's suspicions, however, were rising.
/He's planning something with that gun . . . There's something about that weapon that we don't know . . ./
"You have to," Zidane said simply. "Or I'll kill you,"
"I'm not getting rid of my gun," Drakja shrugged nonchalantly. Zidane's eyes narrowed. He could still hear the words in the back of his head, like Kuja's dying breath tattooed in his mind.
/It was the gun all along . . ./
It had been a warning for sure. Kuja had known something about that weapon and had given away his last ounce of life to make sure Zidane was aware of it. Drakja was DEFINITELY up to something and Zidane wasn't going to let him get away with it!
"If you think this is some sort of joke . . ." Zidane began.
"No joke," Drakja snapped. "The gun stays,"
Zidane smirked. "Then I get to use my Ultima Weapon and any Dyne Trance attack I want . . ."
Drakja's face contorted. "Why you little . . .! Fine!" Drakja yanked the gun from his sheathe and held it firmly in his hands. Then he closed his eyes and the weapon shimmered. Then it was gone.
"You see? I teleported it away. Problem solved,"
"What's stopping you from teleporting it back?!" Zidane shouted. Drakja made a derisive noise.
"I can only teleport something if I'm touching it!"
Zidane was still suspicious and he did a quick sweep of the area with his eyes to make sure the gun wasn't nearby. He didn't see it . . . But when Zidane looked back, he specifically saw Drakja tuck something into his cloak . . . A canister of some kind. Zidane had seen it before, as Drakja stood over Kuja's lifeless body . . .
"Hmm . . ."
"Well, now what?" Drakja snapped. Zidane looked up in surprise, torn violently from his thoughts, and then nodded.
"Oh, right. We're still fighting to the death . . . Okay. Here are the rules from now on. Neither of us can use ANY weapons but our daggers – "
"That applies to you too!"
Zidane rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah . . ." He quickly bent down and slid his Ultima Weapon off the roof. /Sure hope I can retrieve that later . . ./.
"And . . ." Zidane continued. "You can't transform. There will be no dirty shots, like knocking someone across the head so that they're dazed and then stabbing them. Nothing like that. We are – or, at least, should be – civilized people. Understood?"
"Understood,"
"Good. Then let's get ready to rumble . . ."
A flash of lightning tore the sky as if it were snickering down upon the two creations, each cradling a dagger glinting sharply in each hand. There was silence, and then they dove recklessly into their melee of death . . .
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"This storm . . . It's getting worse," Steiner muttered, looking concernedly out the window as black rain splattered violently against it. He turned around and glanced back at Garnet cautiously. She sat hunched over on the Alexandrian throne, her eyes distant.
"Your Majesty . . . Is something wrong?" the knight queried. Garnet started and looked up.
"Ah, no, no . . . It's nothing you would be concerned about," /What if something happens to Kuja because of me . . .?/
". . . I do not understand . . ."
Garnet smiled softly at her loyal guardian and friend. ". . . I didn't think you would,"
"Your Majesty, I am requesting immediate permission to round up the Alexandrian soldiers NOW!"
General Beatrix, her hair wet and in disarray, came skidding into the throne-room. Her one eye was wide and panic was written all across her face. Garnet sat up in surprise, feeling a tingling sensation running up her spine.
"Wh-why?"
"There's a fight!" Beatrix choked out, trying to catch her breath. "A report was just sent from a local inn. The desk clerk and a family checking in saw and heard the whole thing. They're fighting on the roof!"
Garnet hesitated. "A-alright. D-do whatever it takes . . ."
"But Your Majesty," Beatrix raced forward and clenched Garnet's hands tightly as she collapsed down on one knee before the regal throne. "You don't understand . . .! It's Zidane! And from the reports it sounds like . . . It sounds like he's fighting Drakja! Alone!"
Garnet gasped and leapt to her feet. Beatrix quickly stood up and backed away as the horror finally sunk into Garnet's delicately featured face.
/. . . Zidane . . .!/
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Is that the best you've got, punk?!" Drakja taunted as he leapt away from one of Zidane's deadly blades.
"Psh! You wish!" Zidane gave a violent swing and threw his dagger fiercely at Drakja's midriff. The geonome ducked and then rolled out of the way as Zidane sprung over his head and grabbed the weapon from mid-air. Already the fight was becoming more and more deadly. Every time one of the creations slashed, the blade came a little closer than the previous time. Tempers were rising at an alarmingly rapid rate.
"Ha!" Zidane ran forward and cut a wide arc with his dagger. Drakja caught Zidane's arm and leapt backwards. Zidane stumbled forward from the sudden loss of a hold, then dropped to the roof as his nemesis aimed a well-placed kick at his head. Zidane felt the fabric of Drakja's pants brush his golden hair.
/Close . . . Too close . . ./
"Come on!" Drakja shouted. "You could kill me from sheer boredom!"
"Shut . . . UP!!!" Zidane whipped around and lunged. His blade glinted and in the two seconds that he soared, Zidane realized the point was too close for Drakja to dodge it.
/I got him!/
"Ah – what?!" Zidane tripped on the slippery rain as his body hit a rush of air. He hit the roof hard and skidded. His dagger flew from his hand and clattered several feet away.
/What the . . .?!/
Zidane pulled himself up and looked around in confusion.
/He . . . He's gone!/
"STUPID!!!"
Drakja materialized smack dab in Zidane's face like a flash of darkness. The blonde didn't even have a chance to cry out before a wet boot caught him under the chin and flung him backwards so hard that he felt his head snap back; twisted. Zidane's body fell limp against the roof where he lay there stunned, grinding his teeth with pain.
"You . . . cheated . . ." the genome managed to gasp out as he attempted to retrieve his scattered breath. He could hear dull footsteps coming closer.
Drakja smirked, his shadow looming over Zidane's shivering form. "All's fair,"
"But you said – !"
Drakja laughed. "Ah, but you don't have the strength to do anything dangerous to me now. I could finish you off in one . . . quick . . . stroke,"
Zidane spat blood at the geonome's feet. "Bastard! Hyah!" His blade seemed to come from nowhere, having been hidden beneath his body. Drakja just barely managed to leap out of the way. What he didn't expect, however, was for Zidane to suddenly throw himself straight at his nemesis. The dagger plunged deep into Drakja's midriff, spurting his crimson blood. Drakja let out a cry of pain and his back hit the roof with a thud as Zidane pushed off and leapt over his head, dagger still in hand. The geonome gasped with pain.
"You . . . mother . . . FUCKER!!!"
Drakja scrambled to his feet and let out a fierce cry. A crack of lightning fizzled in the air, lighting the city of Alexandria. A commotion could be heard from below and the sound of unsheathing weapons. The two enemies, however, ignored it. All else was forgotten: pain, fear . . . family. All that mattered was the death of the other. To feel warm blood seeping over a hand cradling a crimson-bathed blade. Yes . . . That would be the only bliss. The high . . .
The bloodlust was back . . .
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"The brown-haired man!" Beatrix screamed at her soldiers. "Can you hit the brown-haired man?!"
She stomped up and down the lines of warriors that encircled the unfortunate inn. Many of the women were wielding swords. Most, on the other hand, were aiming taut bows up at the roof where the battle drifted in and out of darkness like a candle just fighting to stay alive.
At first the situation had seemed bad. Then it had seemed like a nightmare. Upon reaching the inn, the desk-clerk was immediately questioned. That was when they had learned the truth . . .
Kuja was up there too . . .
But they didn't see him fighting. It had dawned on Beatrix then that Kuja could be seriously hurt if not already dead. Only that could have driven Zidane to such madness as to challenge Drakja alone. And that alone could be the only reason Kuja hadn't already ripped Drakja's lungs out for endangering his brother . . .
"General Beatrix!" one of the recruits – a captain – addressed. "The soldiers are ready, but what you ask is impossible! We cannot aim and ensure the life of the queen's fiancé at the same time!" She had to shout just to be heard over the din of the storm.
Beatrix growled but knew – had known the entire time – the truth in this frightful statement.
"Hold your posts!" the one-eyed general shrieked. "If I see even one arrow being lowered I will deal with the culprit PERSONALY! Is that understood?!" Murmurs of assent could be heard from up and down the rows of nervous female warriors. Steiner was shouting at the Pluto Knights, just trying to get them to string their bows right. Beatrix circled the entire perimeter of the inn, checking to see which of her soldiers were in the best positions to shoot.
"An opening!" one of the captains cried as a flash of lightning revealed Drakja to be standing over Zidane's fallen body. Beatrix looked up and her face filled with fear.
"HOLD YOUR FIRE!!!"
And just in time, too. The three surprised Alexandrian soldiers who had been told to shoot were only able to shift their aim a split second before Zidane suddenly lunged himself at Drakja. The fighters vanished into darkness once more. The soldiers with the arrows had, in fact, released their weapons. The deadly arrows clattered against the side of the inn and fell into the gutters of the street.
"Oh Shiva . . ." Beatrix let out a gasp of relief and nearly collapsed from the sudden drop in adrenaline. "Somebody up there has a serious crush on you, Zidane . . ."
"Your orders, General?" came a timid yet stern voice at the woman's side. One of the captains stood looking inquisitively up at the general. Beatrix glanced past the young woman and to Steiner who stood several yards away with the water running in rivulets down his armor. The two nodded in mutual agreement.
"There is nothing we can do. We will wait here and see what happens . . ."
"I only pray to the gods Zidane can take care of himself . . ."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Sir, I'm afraid you are going to have to go back home,"
"But I've just come all the way from the Outer Continent on urgent matters!"
"I'm sorry but there's a major fight going on nearby and all the troops are being utilized to stop it. I'm afraid the city's in a lock-down until then,"
Mr. 41's lamp-like eyes widened in disbelief as the young guard blocked his way onto the gondola at Alexandria Castle. Vivi's children hovered miserably behind him, whimpering and complaining about cold and wet.
"I . . . I don't think you understand . . ." Mr. 41 seemed to beg.
"I don't think YOU understand . . ." the guard folded her arms across her chest and glared at the Black Mage from beneath her over-sized helmet. "One of the geonomes – the creatures that destroyed Esto Gaza, Dali, and parts of Alexandria – is fighting Queen Garnet's fiancé. The LEADER of the geonomes, in fact. The future of Alexandria is in jeopardy right now. So I think it would benefit you greatly if you would just – Wait! Where are you going?!"
"Get those kids into the castle, they belong to Sir Vivi!" Mr. 41 shouted over his shoulder as he tore away from the moat. "I have to find Zidane!"
"But – Oh DAMN it . . ." The guard slumped back against the gate-pole, pouting. She flinched when she felt someone poke her in the leg.
"Huh? Oh . . . The kids. Right. I'd better go alert the queen and her companions, this might be important . . ."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Zidane screamed as he felt the sleek metal of the blade cut through his arm. He stumbled sideways, falling into Drakja. The two collapsed onto the roof, Drakja shrieking as his wounds hit concrete.
"B-bastard!" Zidane gasped, blood running down his chin. He thrust his dagger down like a knife, aiming for Drakja's head. The geonome rolled out from under him, knocking his enemy over, and grabbed Zidane's hair fiercely. Zidane cried out as Drakja yanked his head back while the two lay sprawled out on the roof. Zidane scrambled out of the way as a burst of thunder wrenched the sky. Drakja let out a snarl and dragged himself forward across the roof as if his legs were paralyzed. Zidane stood, trembling, and backed up. He fell and kicked Drakja in the face as he landed. The geonome shrieked and coughed up blood.
Any normal creature would have been dead. Both Zidane and Drakja had been stabbed, kicked, slashed, and brutally beaten. Yet they persisted. Being creations of Garland, they were nearly unstoppable even against each other. Where any mortal would have died, they lived on. Suffered.
"I'm gonna kill you! What the HELL did you do to my brother?!" Zidane sobbed, collapsing on top of Drakja and wrapping his fingers tightly around his enemy's throat. Drakja clawed at Zidane's face with one hand, his teeth bared. With his other hand he cut Zidane across the chest with a dagger, forcing Zidane to fall back. The blonde moaned, then lunged forward weakly. He shoved Drakja down and slashed his dagger through Drakja's stomach.
"Ngh!"
Then, all at once, Drakja thrust himself straight into Zidane, his twin blades glinting in the rain. Zidane growled and caught the daggers with his own . . .
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"General Beatrix, they've locked daggers!" a captain informed the worried woman. Beatrix nodded.
"I know, I know! Everyone, stand your ground and – who the hell are you?"
The last thing General Beatrix or anyone had expected to see what standing right in front of her.
"A Black Mage?" Steiner blinked stupidly.
"Please, please! I must speak with Zidane!" the Black Mage seemed to have run from somewhere far away as he fought against several soldiers holding him back. Beatrix frowned, then moved forward.
"What is the meaning of this?!" she snapped. The Black Mage looked up at her fearfully.
"It's about Zidane's sister, Mikoto! She vanished weeks ago!"
Beatrix's eye widened. ". . . Oh . . . my . . . god . . ."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
They were weakening, the both of them. Zidane's arms were trembling violently as he held Drakja's daggers at bay. Yet he could see the agony twisting on Drakja's face as well.
/I . . . I don't know how much longer I can hold this!/
"Give up!" Drakja hissed.
"Not before you do!"
And then it was gone. The will to fight, the will to live, the will to die, the will to bleed, the will to even watch the enemy suffer.
Gone . . .
And they both collapsed. Zidane and Drakja simply collapsed. They lay half on top of each other, breathing hard, unable to move. Their daggers slipped from their hands as the rain pattered hard against their ruined bodies.
How long they remained like that, seemingly dead, even the onlookers didn't know. As Beatrix and the soldiers began to fear the worst, Zidane and Drakja simply closed their eyes and lay atop the roof. Silence descended, broken only by the moaning of the thunder above.
". . . We're idiots, aren't we?" Zidane whispered.
"And how . . ."
A faint chuckle escaped Zidane's lips. "We fought to kill one another . . . And never thought we might be killing ourselves . . ."
Drakja nodded, too exhausted to speak.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" the blonde genome queried. Drakja grimaced.
"A draw," he rasped.
". . . Yes . . ."
Drakja sighed and rose slowly to his feet. Zidane soon followed him. They stared at each other for a moment and a contract seemed to form between them. They were safe . . . For now . . .
"We are equally matched, Angel of Death," Drakja whispered, perching himself up on the ledge of the roof and tucking his daggers back into his sheathe. "But when we meet again, that will not be the case . . ."
Zidane glared at him tiredly with bloodshot eyes. "Indeed . . ."
Drakja licked his bloody lips. "And know this . . . This fight isn't over,"
"No, it isn't . . ."
And then Drakja was gone. Just like that. And Zidane felt he'd lost something else with his departure . . .
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"It's over!" Steiner gasped. "Beatrix, dear, it's over! Drakja, he's left!"
"Oh, thank god . . ." Beatrix closed her eye. "Hurry, though! Zidane, he's injured! We've got to get up there NOW!" She turned to the squirming Black Mage nearby. "You too!"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Zidane dropped to his knees with exhaustion. It felt like the very life was being drained out of him, washing away in the rain. Everything was hazy and numb. The genome ignored his agony, however, now bent on one thing . . .
"Kuja . . ." Zidane seemed to plead as he dragged himself up beside his brother's unmoving body. "Kuja . . . Please . . ."
There was nothing save the rumble of thunder. Zidane reached out slowly and touched his brother's arm. Cold . . . So cold . . . Everything was cold. Darkness seemed to overtake his vision.
"Kuja . . . Wake up . . ." Zidane gently shook the warlock's shoulder. There was no response. "Please . . . Wake up . . ."
It was like Kuja wasn't there. Zidane barely had the strength to acknowledge this strange revelation. It felt like Kuja was a million miles away. Like Zidane could reach out and touch Kuja's face yet never feel it.
". . . Please . . ."
"Zidane! Oh god, Zidane are you alright?!"
It was everyone, the crew, Beatrix, Garnet, everyone . . . They all looked so scared as their hair frizzed with rain. The sploosh of water filled Zidane's ears thickly as they crowded in around him.
"Fine . . ." he rasped. "I'm fine . . ."
"Oh, Zidane you're hurt!" Garnet dropped down at her fiancé's side and hugged him gently. "We should go get Doctor Tot,"
"Zidane . . . What happened to Kuja?" Beatrix was staring down at the warlock's body nervously.
". . . He won't wake up . . ." Zidane muttered thickly.
"Zidane, I have urgent news!" came an unfamiliar voice a few feet away.
"Can it, moron! Not now!" That was definitely Amarant.
Beatrix turned Kuja carefully onto his back, revealing his pale face. The others stared down at him with concern. He looked nothing more than asleep . . . Yet that pained look on his face . . .
So much like death . . .
"What is this . . .?" Eiko whimpered.
"Kuja!" Beatrix called, shaking the warlock's shoulders. She might as well have shaken a corpse for all the good it did.
". . . He will not wake . . ."
The team whipped around at the familiar voice. It was her, the woman with the purple eyes. She stood on the stairs of the trap-door to the roof, her face somber.
"Wh-why not?" Vivi queried cautiously. The woman lowered her head in apology and despair.
". . . I have much explaining to do . . ."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A/N: LONGEST CHAPTER YET!!! TWENTY-TWO PAGES!!! WHEEE! So? How was it? Good? Bad? Worthy of cookies? Craptastic? Alright, seriously, how cool was Zidane in this chapter? I mean, he FINALLY did something! A lot of something! Dude, he was practically knocking Drakja senseless (take that!). I couldn't help, however, but notice a lack of other characters in this chapter. But that's alright 'cause EVERYONE'S gonna be in the next one. Hard to believe, though, isn't it? Mr. 41 actually made it to Alexandria . . . I'll bet you people thought that would NEVER happen . . . But here he is! And now Zidane's going to know about Mikoto. But what about Kuja?!?! What did evil, heartless BMD do to him?! Must . . . not . . . mention . . . name . . . of really smart . . . reviewer-person . . . But sadly enough, the next chapter is the last chapter before the "downward spiral." Everything (I mean, everything) is revealed in the next chapter EXCEPT for the details about Drakja and Saishoja. We don't find ANYTHING out about them until practically the last chapter. Then, once the heroes know what's going on, it's off to the final stages of Return of the Destroyed! Here's the progress update: Out of 172 scenes TOTAL in this story (that includes the epilogue) we just finished scene # 151. In other words, there's only *gasp* twenty more scenes left in this entire story! We're . . . We're almost home-free! But still . . . What horror can BMD wreak upon this unsuspecting cast within twenty scenes . . .? Bwahaha. So stay tuned! And Kuja-fans . . . Prepare to cry your eyes out next chapter; for more reasons than one . . . (Don't worry, I'll be cryin' right along with ya . . .).
REEAAADDDD ANNDDD REEVVVIIIIEEEEEWWWWWW!!!!!!!