Chapter 1
The bright lights of Costa del Sol never went out. Not in the center of town, anyways. Every bar, club, and casino displayed its neon proudly; enticing young vacationers with fifty foot signs, gorgeous women, and the view of the beach from the third floor. It was everyone's dream, since the Crisis was gone. Head out somewhere care-free, spend the week, blow your money, do something terrible and go home hoping your wife won't smell it on you. This kind of adventure attracted every crowd. Everyone loved it in Costa del Sol. The people who lived there, however, had a different image. People trying to live a normal, peaceful life and still get a tan had built their houses away from the glitz and glam of what was the biggest tourism industry in the world, but the blinding lights still managed to penetrate many a curtain or shade. Most of the residents had gotten sleeping masks, to deal with the conditions, and the others were all just easy sleepers. Unfortunately for Owen Strife, he did not have a mask, and was not a heavy sleeper.
A pair of strained, careful footsteps padded outside his bedroom door in the living room, followed by what seemed to be Velcro and a zipper. Owen rolled over and stared at the green digital numbers on his alarm clock. 3:18.
"Dad?" He yelled groggily, realizing the error of his ways only after the word had escaped his mouth. The movement stopped. Owen cursed himself under his breath and quieted his breathing. He would not screw it up this time. It had only been a few seconds, but the house seemed to be engulfed in an unnatural blanket of tension so thick, he couldn't even hear the ever-present noises from downtown.
"…Dad?" He called again, crawling out from underneath the thin sheets and warily making his way to the door. It was unusual for his father to stay quiet for so long. Whenever he said anything, there was always a frantic scrambling and a door slamming. His hands were slippery, and the door stuck; he had to give an extra hard push for it to open. Owen stepped outside his bedroom, keeping the door only slightly ajar. He couldn't risk the squeaking that gave him away every other time. The boy poked his head around the door, expecting to see his father for once, standing in the living room with that same guilty expression he wore whenever he came back from one of these trips. And why shouldn't he? Leaving his son home without warning, not telling him where he was headed or when he would be back, and no one to take care of him. Owen could remember stay home alone since he was 10 for about a week at a time. But as usual, there was nothing. Owen let out a dejected sigh as the empty living room stared back at him.
"getting' good, daddio." He muttered to himself, running a hand through his naturally unkempt blonde hair. "Too good for Secret Agent Strife, it seems." Smirk. Karate stance. It was too early for this. At least he had the house to himself.
AN: It's kinda short, but whatever. Hooray for Cloud's child! But where's the mother? gasp
The bright lights of Costa del Sol never went out. Not in the center of town, anyways. Every bar, club, and casino displayed its neon proudly; enticing young vacationers with fifty foot signs, gorgeous women, and the view of the beach from the third floor. It was everyone's dream, since the Crisis was gone. Head out somewhere care-free, spend the week, blow your money, do something terrible and go home hoping your wife won't smell it on you. This kind of adventure attracted every crowd. Everyone loved it in Costa del Sol. The people who lived there, however, had a different image. People trying to live a normal, peaceful life and still get a tan had built their houses away from the glitz and glam of what was the biggest tourism industry in the world, but the blinding lights still managed to penetrate many a curtain or shade. Most of the residents had gotten sleeping masks, to deal with the conditions, and the others were all just easy sleepers. Unfortunately for Owen Strife, he did not have a mask, and was not a heavy sleeper.
A pair of strained, careful footsteps padded outside his bedroom door in the living room, followed by what seemed to be Velcro and a zipper. Owen rolled over and stared at the green digital numbers on his alarm clock. 3:18.
"Dad?" He yelled groggily, realizing the error of his ways only after the word had escaped his mouth. The movement stopped. Owen cursed himself under his breath and quieted his breathing. He would not screw it up this time. It had only been a few seconds, but the house seemed to be engulfed in an unnatural blanket of tension so thick, he couldn't even hear the ever-present noises from downtown.
"…Dad?" He called again, crawling out from underneath the thin sheets and warily making his way to the door. It was unusual for his father to stay quiet for so long. Whenever he said anything, there was always a frantic scrambling and a door slamming. His hands were slippery, and the door stuck; he had to give an extra hard push for it to open. Owen stepped outside his bedroom, keeping the door only slightly ajar. He couldn't risk the squeaking that gave him away every other time. The boy poked his head around the door, expecting to see his father for once, standing in the living room with that same guilty expression he wore whenever he came back from one of these trips. And why shouldn't he? Leaving his son home without warning, not telling him where he was headed or when he would be back, and no one to take care of him. Owen could remember stay home alone since he was 10 for about a week at a time. But as usual, there was nothing. Owen let out a dejected sigh as the empty living room stared back at him.
"getting' good, daddio." He muttered to himself, running a hand through his naturally unkempt blonde hair. "Too good for Secret Agent Strife, it seems." Smirk. Karate stance. It was too early for this. At least he had the house to himself.
AN: It's kinda short, but whatever. Hooray for Cloud's child! But where's the mother? gasp