Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy, It is the property of Hironobu Sakaguchi, SquaresoftLLC/SquareEnix, and from what I can tell, Tetsuya Nomura.
FNG: and now to respond to chapter one's only reviewer: Charles Xavier.
Charles Xavier- Of the 3 people I contacted to inform them of this fic, you're the only one to respond and I thank you for that (ironically, I had informed these people of my project months in advance and was even told they'd look forward to it). As for why I'm motivated to write this, it's both the reasons you listed. As an author, it's my duty to be creative and show off my creativity to the thousands (millions?) of people who visit this website daily. However, reviews in my eyes, are rewards for impressing other people and the less impressed people are: the less motivated I am to "waste" my talent (any story that gets less reviews than chapters can't be all that good). So that's why I'm calling upon my favorite authors to encourage me. I'm surprised that you, being a veteran of writing on this site, hadn't figured that out.
P.S.: I've got plenty of inspiration needed to write this story. From only two FF's in fact (7 and 8) and I haven't even finished the latter.
Final Fantasy XIII
It was 11' O'clock as Goran Jovanivic and Roan Polyneices stepped through the front door of their 4-room log cabin that they had been sharing for months now. The two small time bounty hunters slammed the door as quickly as they had opened it. Exhausted from a hard night's failure, they arbitrarily discarded their weapons against the front wall. Roan then just kind of fell on to the beanbag chair in the corner of the room next to his now unused gun. Goran, however, couldn't sit. He was waiting for the third inhabitant to notice their entrance.
'Have to break it to her slowly.' He thought, grimacing at things to come.
The cabin's living room, which was also the entrance, was one of four rooms in the house. There were two doors in the back of the room, the one on the left leading to the kitchen and the right leading to the bedroom. The fourth room: the Bathroom could only be accessed from the bedroom. The walls were made of rough wood the floor was covered with a soft brown carpet and all the furniture was put against the walls creating an empty center. It was as if the TV, study desk, the Oak wood cabinet, and the two couches were all repelled from the center in opposite directions.
The bedroom door opened with a brushing sound against the carpet floor. A sleepy young girl, no older than 16 shuffled out of the door. Her silver hair was made of short, messy spikes, none of which hid her dark red eyes. On her slim figure, she wore a fuzzy, dark green-black gown held by two thin shoulder straps, the bottom running just above her bellybutton. She also wore a pair of gene shorts and white tennis shoes.
Her eyes shot up at Goran, and a wave of excitement and relief swallowed her exhaustion. She sprinted into his arms.
"Whoa, slow down Sis' I said I'd be back before midnight didn't I?" Goran said nearly toppling over himself from the force of his sister's impact.
"That doesn't take away my right to worry, I didn't have to turn the TV on to know the town is a war zone." She said slowly exiting her own embrace.
"We were smarter than the other folks to move downtown." He pointed out. "It was already bad there before sunset."
"I didn't know trucks carried that much fuel." Roan mused from the corner, referring to an incident in the central square earlier that day. "I felt the heat wave before I could make out the explosion."
"Emilene." Goran turned back to his sister. "We didn't catch her."
Goran's Sister, now identified, as "Emilene" looked a bit confused.
"Catch who...?" It took at least three heartbeats to comprehend the meaning of the words.
"So...No reward money then?" she bitterly inquired.
"Just 360 Gil we got from some goons across town." He answered. "Most of it came from Stewie Devereaux himself."
"The leader of Nepocala Devereaux's Big Bad Quartet?" Surprise then consumed her depression. Sure their money was drying up, but to be siblings with someone who slayed one of the world's most wanted men has some sort of bragging rights.
"He ordered the getaway car out of town. If it weren't for him, I could have disabled it and rescued What's her face." Goran looked down. Guilt was slowly consuming his face.
Emilene put her right hand on his left shoulder.
"You say that like it's your fault." Said Emilene. "It's Devereaux's. And something like this isn't exactly the end of the world."
'...Not yet...' He thought.
Emilene immediately changed the subject. "Look, you fought hard all night, it's almost midnight, all of us are tired. So why don't we just get to bed?"
Goran barely formed a grin. "You sure bounce back don't you?"
"Well, we can't mope over it, it's not our fault that all the jobs in the Mythril mines have been taken. Then I can't blame you for being lazy, because you're not." She hugged her brother again.
"You can still blame him for moving here from Port Eric." Roan muttered from the corner. "I warned him the Mythril Rush just wasn't all it was cracked up to be."
Emilene let go of quickly let go of Goran and casually walked into Roan's corner. She cleared her throat so Roan would notice...
The next thing Roan knew, what felt like an anvil, no, Emilene's foot, landed firmly on his diaphragm, it would be 10 agonizing seconds later that he could breathe again. It would only take 5 of those seconds before the sudden lack of oxygen distorted his vision and produced the pulsing headache he would feel for the next half-hour.
On the tenth second, Emilene lifted her foot from the gunslinger's chest and flashed him an innocent smile. A smile that seemed to suggest: "What are you gonna do? Send me to my room without the supper I just ate?" Of course, that's exactly what she did. She just walked back into the bedroom she came from and no one said a thing to stop her.
Roan's lungs reinflated just enough to ask the following question.
"Ow... Who would've thought bashing you would be one of her buttons?"
"Probably people who know her better." Goran answered. "I guess she just thinks it's only fair to return favors for every time I stand up for her."
"I think I'd rather sleep here tonight. I don't think she takes kindly to me anymore." Roan slouched further back as he tried to get more comfortable in what would be subbing for his bed tonight.
"She'll get over it. I mean, this is the first time I've seen her do something bitchy in years." Goran reassured.
"Years?" Roan was skeptical.
"Ok, months." Goran said so the argument would end faster. He waited until Roan closed his eyes before he joined his younger sister in their bedroom. Reward or not, sleep would be a part of it. Rather than worry about tonight's failure, he just lazily strolled to their bedroom. Through the chaos of the dirty clothes pile that would not have been there if they hadn't sold their hamper, among other things, for money; Past the light-red wooden drawer and the mirror Emeline used every morning, and onto the dark green covers of his bed. He simply ignored his already snoring sister in the matching bed on the right side of the room and seemed to fall onto his own, not even bothering to get under the covers to tuck himself in, he was too tired for that...
Then the familiar trance of darkness called sleep slowly sucked away all his senses, as not to distract him from his rest...
The next day: 7:00 AM
"GORAAAAAAN!!!!!!"
Goran woke up with an obvious start, nearly flinging himself out of bed and dragging the covers down with him from sheer surprise of the shout, now clearly his sister's, who then darted into the room, obviously she woke up before he did. He got up, not too happy with his sister's tone of voice.
"Emilene, I'm going to count to zero, why did you scream in my ear?" He said in a rather arbitrary attempt to sound menacing. Only to be met with the same menacing smile she gave Roan the other night.
"Because you slept like a log sleepyhead." She followed with a very faint giggle. "Come to the living room, there's someone is here to see us."
"Who?"
"Count Foley's aide, Martine." She said not feeling like keeping him in suspense.
"Wait, What?"
"I said, Count Foley's A-I-D-E is here, he's talking to Roan in the living room right now."
The suspense in Goran's mind actually grew from this. If what she was saying was true, then something with the Count was up. But still...Why come here?
Maybe he could ask that question in the next room...
Surely enough, in the living room, conversing with Roan, was Foley's Aide: Martine. A blonde man who's hair was combed neatly back in a dome like manner. He dressed in a long sleeve, light blue shirt and a long white diagonal sash going from his right shoulder to his left hip. The Suit was adorned with many gold buttons and honorary Medals, some from his old life in the Military, as they may seem.
"So the Count wants us to come to his place? Could you clarify why?" Roan inquired, answering a question Goran didn't have the chance to hear before entering the room.
Martine shook his head courteously before answering.
"Mr. Stiftarr didn't say exactly why he wanted you of all people, he just said to pick up some essentials such as your weapons and make your way to his mansion at the City Square."
Roan turned over to Goran, not very surprised he was awake. He mouthed something to Goran, who despite not being a profound lip-reader, could make out "I think we're in trouble."
"...No you're not..." came the surprising response from Martine.
"Whoa, Whoa, Whoa!" Roan practically fell head over heels from the reply.
"I guess my Special Forces training from the old days certainly paid off haven't they?" Martine ended his ad-lib with a chuckle. "Come on, I will personally see the three of you to Master Stiftarr's residence." He motioned everyone out of the front door.
Goran's eyes flinched from the burst of sunlight. He continued out the door anyway, into the morning time Streets. Last night, it was too dark to look at the entire Street, but now, Goran, Roan, and Emilene could see last night's aftermath in the clear. Car parts were half buried in the snow and litter had drifted through the wind from several streets and alleys away. It looked more like a weak tornado had gone through the town last night rather than the skirmish that actually happened. Police, Firemen, and Paramedics, and even construction workers were overwhelmed in their respective duties.
Police were still thinly spread from reports of sporadic violence and arbitrarily named "mini-riots" that had been occurring in totally random places at equally random times.
Sometimes, several buildings in a row had dying fires-albeit still dangerous-that tired and hungry firemen were still struggling to extinguish with everything from water, Carbon Dioxide, and Halon.
The latter two incidents and related violent actions all resulted in injury or even death. These were the paramedics' cleanup Area.
It's obvious some buildings would be damaged or destroyed, so two thousand Construction workers all had to clean up after them as well.
And then behold the island of peace amidst a war zone. A Roman style palace stood behind iron gates, no graffiti on the walls supporting them, nothing broken in the yard beyond the gate, and not a single cracked window on any floor of the two story mansion. Judging by the security, the skill of the local ceremonial guards. Standing straight up, totally erect with their gray wool uniforms, the lower half of their faces were concealed in equally dull colored scarves wrapped neatly around their faces. Rather than stand with their automatic rifles shouldered, The Mayor personally instructed them to have them perpetually ready as to always be alert. It had served them well over the last 12 hours...
Martine approached the only guard stationed at the front gate.
"Party of Three requested by Count Foley Stiftarr as requested." He spoke to the motionless guard.
"We've been expecting you Master Martine. One moment please." The guard still seemed absolutely still when speaking, but he pulled a small black remote, only a little smaller than his fist, and pressed the single red button to open the gates behind him, they pulled inward so not to inconvenience passers-by.
"Move along people, the Count awaits!" The aide did not motion the trio to follow him but the phrase made it too clear to be necessary.
Inside the count's office...
The room was awfully tall and large for a mere study, but all paperwork and orders to be carried out, every policy related to taxes, construction, and even the building's management, were conducted from this room. There were at least twenty Two-story black marble pillars of a rather gothic design 10 on each side of the room stretching from the entrance to the dual picture windows behind the desk at the end of the room opposite of the entrance. Crammed bookcases were hidden behind the gargantuan monoliths for reference and other purposes.
At the end of the hall sat a polished oak hardwood desk at least the size of your typical dinner table. The leader of the city-state of Aleuma sat behind this desk. The 50 something year old man was draped in a black formal Army-like uniform with the same sash as his colleague, Martine, as well as matching black dress pants. His head had hair, but the black hair was shaved cleanly with a buzz cut and his scalp shown barely through it. He wore a pair of thin glasses and a thin, almost drawn on looking mustache.
He was grinning...
...What did the Mayor have in mind that brought about this smirk?
"Master Foley!" Called a voice from the other end of the room.
"Yes Martine?"
The aide approached, escorting Goran, Emilene, and Roan with him, it took a considerably long walk to get from that end of the room to Foley's Desk, not to mention the stern eye of the 15 ceremonial guards that were lined up by the columns.
"Here are the so-called 'Bounty-Hunters' you requested." This answer took Goran and his friends by surprise.
"Bounty Hunters, what?" Roan seemed taken by surprise.
Goran was equally confused. "Hey, what we did last night was a part time job! We're not professionals!"
"That's not what my contacts reported about you last night." Foley answered.
"You were spying on us?" Roan didn't seem too pleased that he was being watched by people who should find better things to do.
"In essence, yes. As I was the other vigilantes that showed up all over Aleuma." The Count answered unfazed by Roan's attitude problem.
"Couldn't you have used them for something else useful, like save your niece?" Fumed Roan.
"Ask more politely and I'll answer that next question." Foley seemed to enjoy pulling the proverbial bull by the horns.
"Hey, just please tell us why we're here, what do you need us for so badly." Emilene said.
"Since you came the closest to nabbing my niece last night, AND killed Stewie Devereaux whilst trying, I figured that the three of you could handle the assignment to go after her." Foley replied.
Goran still did not follow one thing.
"What do you mean the three of us?" His eye twitched toward Emilene.
"I was told your sister was excellent with melee weapons like yourself Mr. Jovanivic." He stroked his chin for a second, then continued his response. "Mind if I call you Goran?"
"Don't switch the subject so suddenly... But go ahead with that last thing." Said Goran. "But I can't let Emilene handle something this big, she could get in trouble with what you're asking for."
Foley's demeanor was easily maintained.
"Yes, but I'm told otherwise. She is supposedly quick on her feet, not to mention a formidable opponent with bludgeon type weapons." Said Foley looking Emilene in the eye. She blushed and slowly pulled from behind her what appeared to be a sledgehammer.
"You can't honestly expect me risk a 16 year old girl's life, let alone my own sister, just to save your niece, what the Hell is wrong with you..." He sighed thinking of how he treated Roan. "...Sir?"
"Fear not, she and you will be in good hands for this assignment." The Count replied. "Which reminds me, I have to brief you on this mission."
"Wait" Roan began as he pounded his fist on the edge of the desk, he was particularly displeased with what he was hearing.
"We didn't agree to anything and your already giving us a briefing?" He objected.
"Well, I figured that since the reward is still up for grabs, you'd have no objections in carrying out this mission for me." The Count scored again, and Roan froze in shock.
"...All 25,000 of it?"
The Count merely nodded.
Roan turned around and motioned his two partners to huddle with him, they surrounded each other and discussed the situation eagerly.
"We have another chance." Roan whispered. "Now is the last time we can score, I'd rather not hear any objections."
"Are you kidding?" Goran didn't heed his partner's warning. "We might already be knee deep in shit for killing Devereaux's heir. I don't want to make stuff worse than we're in now!"
Roan sighed. "It was a death no one but us saw."
Emilene backed the raven-haired gunman up. "Hey, we're almost at the poor house, we'd better take advantage of this while it's still in our hands."
"But Emilene..." Goran began but was cut off.
"Don't 'but Emilene' me Goran. The Count's right, I can take care of myself, I'll be Ok." Emilene persistently held her ground on the issue.
"You don't even know what we're gonna do." Goran tried to make up for his previous failed attempt to talk her sister out of this.
"We'll find out in the briefing, I'm sure I can handle it as well as you two! Besides, you know as well as I do we're hurtin' for cash, don't you?" She protested.
"Right Goran, we're almost out of money, so show that backbone I saw last night." Roan defended.
Goran, defeated, sighed and turned away from the circle to the count.
"It's two to one sir..." He sighed "We'll accept your mission."
The Count smiled. "Thank you, you don't know how much this means to me." He lost his composure in an unexpected slouch. "My niece is the only surviving member of my family!"
This action took the trio by surprise, the man who mocked every effort to defy his orders didn't lose his composure until after they gave in.
And just as unexpectedly, he leaped over his desk right between the three fighters.
"...As for that briefing..." He said with his tone back to normal.
The Count pulled out a small remote, no bigger than those little key chains you use to set your car alarms with, and pressed a small red button at the bottom of the device. Goran almost lost his balance, and Roan and Emilene backed off the carpet that slowly moved out from underneath them. The Carpet actually sank into the floor a foot and then got sucked under the desk. In the hole was a series of what appeared to be tiny glass cubes only a smidge bigger than the head of a pin, magnetic forces in the unusual device, working in sync with programmed lights produced some of the world's most life-like holograms. Some cubes sank, others rose to create the most photo-realistic images science can produce without film.
The crystalline cubes flexed like an ocean wave, differently colored lights filtered through them, and a form stood before the 5 (Martine was still there). The form, clearly a woman, was not real, but even they could not tell the difference between the real thing and this imitation. The woman, only 19 years old, was the most beautiful thing Goran had ever seen the likes of before. Her silky smooth pale-green hair flowed ever so gracefully like a river down to the middle of her back. Her eyes, like Emilene and Goran's, were fiery reds (I promise that the rest of the characters will have different colored eyes after this one). She donned a dark green wool tube top, and a pair of snow-white shorts that stopped just above the knee caps, and her wardrobe was completed with a pair of dirt brown sandals.
"Friends, this is your target, Linda Stiftarr." The Count broke the silence... And snapping Goran out of his trance.
'She's beautiful.' Goran thought. Those thoughts however, would have to wait as her image distorted and flickered out of existence. The crystals morphed and the lighting changed to create an entirely different image. Tundra, deserts, forests, luscious jungles, grasslands, and vast oceans, morphed out of the light creating the very thing that represented their world.
...A map...
"Spies have proven quite useful in the past few hours..." The Count began. "Moles in Devereaux's organization have indicated that Linda is no longer on this continent."
He pointed to the top edge of the map: Mount Erebus, a vast, frozen mountain sat north of Aleuma, its peak at the very North Pole of the world. Aleuma, the mining town, sat at the foot of this final frontier, and only a narrow road stretching a scant distance across the tundra and going through gradually livelier forests that went southward toward the coast. At the end of this road, was a peninsula encrusted with New England style houses and beaches cluttered with docks and ships waiting to load and unload all the necessities of civilization.
South across the sea was a continent that's entire northern area is graced with deserts and tropical Savannah To the east, was nothing but blood-red mountains carved out with canyons. Only a single port along the coast existed with nothing southward for miles until just past this desert on a green plateau lay a heavily fortified metropolis, many military installations hidden among the innocent but alien looking stone spires that formed the city. The City itself sprawled directly out of the cliff side almost as if it were a plant that had seeded beneath the surface of the mesa thousands of years ago.
(A/N: This isn't the entire world map, just parts the eastern and polar continents. There's a third continent to the west and some island chains but they are no concern to us at the moment.)
"This is the map of the area of the world that is concerned with her kidnapping." He continued. "Immediately after arrival at Port Eric, she was thrown into a boat and taken down south across the strait of Kenro. From there, while it is uncertain, she was taken away from the town and sent off by train to..." He hesitated, thinking the repercussions of his announcement.
"Muspell..."
"..." Thought Emilene.
"..." Thought Roan.
"...Is it too late to turn down that offer?" Goran spoke up.
"25,000 Gil can end a financial crisis overnight."
"..." Goran shut up.
"I see where your objections come from Goran. Muspell has been at war with the world for 7 years now, and with an invasion now entirely possible since all their extra-continental control had been repulsed just last year, the Ultranationalist Government has declared martial law across the entire occupied continent. Needless to say, things are hairy." The Count's honesty didn't sit well with the group.
"That's why you will have assistance on your assignment, courtesy of some rogue elements of the Leonidan Army." He continued. "5 years ago, only a few months after The Republic of Leonida joined the War, the survivors of a platoon were charged and convicted of some war crime, whatever, and later escaped a stockade and solicited themselves to the township of Kenro and took up the title "The Black Cactuars". Since Kenro's Army and Navy are small, and they have no Air Force, they took them in and have a base outside town. You will take a ship from port Eric to Kenro and then be escorted to that base. From there, you will attempt to cross the desert, trying to help the Kenrovians if you can, and proceed to Muspell, preferably under guise of Muspeli soldiers on leave, where you will infiltrate the Network underworld and rescue my niece." The Count summarized the mission.
"Does anyone have questions?" Martine finished for the Count, seeing as he had said next to nothing since he introduced the citizens to his boss.
There was silence...
"If you still want to take up my offer, there is a Limousine at the front entrance to take you to Port Eric immediately."
"Sir..." Goran spoke up in a military attentive stance.
"Yes citizen?" He replied.
"This has to be the most dangerous job offer I've been allowed to choose. I don't approve of having to stand up to experienced military forces, nor do I, or my friends have the training to take on such a task..." He looked to his side at Emilene, and to his other at the worried expression of Roan, and finally to the patiently waiting Count.
"...But your generous offer, coupled with the fact that a young woman's life is at stake, outweighs those dangers, your mission has been accepted." He turned to his friend and his sister. "Have you changed your minds guys."
"Fck no man, those Muspell folk can meet my chain gun." Roan enthusiastically replied.
"War isn't glorious, but if we're going to save someone, we might as well have to join in." Emilene followed their example.
"Then it's settled, you are to travel to Port Eric immediately, by this afternoon, you'll be in Kenro to meet the Cactuars, when you arrive at Port Eric, go to dock 13 and meet with a smuggler by the codename: Red..." The Count added.
"Red? Couldn't you come up with something creative?" Roan commented.
"The fewer syllables, the easier to remember. Now anyway, once Red gets you on an arm smuggling boat to Kenro, you'll meet another informant waiting for you on the pier, if you talk to him, he'll say loudly as though to complain: 'The sub attacks have scared all the bass away.' You are to respond: 'But the Mackerel are still around.'" Foley Continued. "He will escort you out of town to meet the mercenaries, as soon as you arrive, ask for 2nd Lieutenant Cid Scipio, tell him I sent you and the mission will proceed as I explained." The Count was finished.
"To the Limo!" Emilene exclaimed to her two companions as she marched out of the hall with Roan close behind. Goran too, followed until the Count stopped him.
"There's one more thing that I need to discuss with you."
'Oh no, another lecture!' Goran thought.
"Here's a little advance on your reward." The stoic Mayor spoke producing a wad of familiar tan monetary notes.
"Wow, 2,000 Gil?" He said removing the payment from his hands. "Wait, isn't it customary to turn in half the money in advance?"
"How do I know you won't settle for less and ditch me?" was his reply.
Goran opened his mouth, but nothing came out. But he made a slight bow of gratitude.
"Thanks Excellency." And then he turned to leave.
Two hours later, a Limousine drove out of the forest surrounded country road and into an age-old colonial style town south of Aleuma. The City of Port Eric was a maze of colonial era buildings and streets packed with foot bound people, more than a fifty thousand in fact. The city was pretty much a few building stories short of a metropolis, but overcrowding was the least important concern when taking into account that every other person you could see was not a native at all. Everyone in the Seaside city had some sort of job related at least with target customers that had shipping and merchant related businesses, and the ratio of natives to foreigners was virtually equal. By "foreigners", we mean people who have jobs that take them here and other seaside cities across Geoss.
None of this was Goran, Roan, or Emilene's concern as they walked through the sea of people flooding the streets. The docks were a solid 10 blocks away, and the human hordes were slowing them down. They had fought their way to a surprisingly clear sidewalk in front of a pub and decided that since there weren't any "No loitering" signs in sight, to take a breath.
"...Well one things for sure, we all got our exercise in only five minutes. I guess that counts as part of combat training." Roan joked after taking a few deep breaths.
He would never find out if Goran or his sister found it funny because before they could laugh, the pub's door crashed open with a loud thwack and a dog was pretty much thrown onto the sidewalk.
Of course they at least thought it was a dog, until they noticed that it's legs bent forward and it took an erect stance as it dazedly struggled to get at least in a crawling position first. Of course, the creature, who had gray-black fur along it's back, arms, the tail sliding out the seat of it's pants, and the top of it's head with a lighter shade going over it's lower face, chest, stomach, paws (er, hands?), and the underside of it's arms and tail. The creature, now clearly male, was obviously the victim of a bar brawl. Three toughs-possibly biker or trucker types judging by their attire-marked with a few ignorable cuts and one of them with a black eye, came out to continue the injuries that they seemed to inflict on the "thing" as their narrow minds thought was an apt label.
"We ain't heard of no Lunatar and we don't take kindly to 'Lupers' like you barging into our drinkin' places!" The overweight looking leader of the toughs said, grabbing the 'Luper,' now clearly a Wolfen, from his crawling position and holding him up to face him.
"Hey, let's see how many bones we can brake before we can he can wag his tail right off his ass!" suggested one of the man's bar buddies.
Unlike most beings in the human race, Emilene was panicked at the sight of this injustice to be. Rather than stand idly by and watch the beating-let alone enjoy it-she rushed to the Wolf-man's aid. Goran would've objected feeling it was none of their business, but Emilene had already begun to swing her sledgehammer at the leader.
There was a dull thud as the hammer smashed into the fat in the brute's back. He let go of the wolfen and turned around to come face to face with Emilene, or at least would have had he not been a full head taller than her.
"What do you think you're doing you fat pig? Can't you see he's had enough!?" She shouted pointing at the cut up wolf-man that was steadily getting back on his feet. He indeed "had enough" since now, we could see his chest was covered with at least three, long, bleeding cuts, maybe from pocket knifes, and although it's impossible to tell now with his thick fur coat, there were bruises as big as snowballs under his fur and skin.
"& off you little prick, you weren't here, you're not involved, and he's our problem, we can rough the bastard up as damn well we please!" The Trucker threatened the teen, which unfortunately for him, was having none of it. To complicate matters more, Goran stepped up to intervene.
"This isn't our business Emilene, we have more important things to do, like he said, it's none of our business!" Goran angrily lectured his sister.
"You're siding with this pig Goran? I thought you were better than that! You know we can't just sit back when something like this happens!" Emilene didn't seem too happy with Goran's opinion.
"Listen to your friend bitch. We know you're out-of-towners, which means he's right, you have to let us take care of this troublemaker!" one of the Trucker's friends retorted.
Of course, Goran, being as fickle as he is, blew up on the bigot and took to his sister. "DON'T CALL MY SISTER A BITCH YOU DUMB FCK BIGOT!" At the exact time those words parted with those lips, he unsheathed his sword. Much to his surprise, the other Brutes capitulated and slowly retreated back into the bar.
"Whoa, no retard carries steel like that!" The leader exclaimed as he took three quick steps backward and through the Bar door.
The smallest of the scum was the last through the door.
"You and your luper friend had better be off that sidewalk in 5 minutes or that butter knife won't mean crap against every customer in here!" He threatened unconvincingly before disappearing inside.
Emilene wasn't paying attention to the man's last threat as she walked up to the Wolfen to examine it's wounds.
"Are you okay?" Emilene asked with the most obvious question first.
She waited three heartbeats before the creature answered in a deep, but not ominous voice.
"...Most of these were from previous brawls, I'll be alright if I leave the city now, I'm done asking questions here." He spoke, fully understanding her words.
Roan and Goran came up from behind Emilene.
"Will you be alright from here?" Roan asked the injured Wolfen.
"This is the last time I get beat up for entering a door clearly labeled 'Humans only.' I was done anyway. Now goodbye and thank you." He continued before turning around to leave, but before any of the three humans could take the same initiative...
"Wait!" He said to himself before turning back to his rescuers. "Have you seen another Wolfen with black and yellow eyes around here? He has light gray fur and he's only wearing a pair of black leather pants with some metal buckles on them?" He asked before discovering the crowd in the street had already enveloped them, he couldn't smell them anymore, he hadn't even taken a good scent off them. Sighing in defeat, he headed to one of the docks to take him back home to the Gotha Archipelago.
It was 20 tiring minutes later that those same rescuers arrived at dock 13. No sooner had they spoken with the red bearded skipper had they boarded the ship and watched as the northern continent slowly disappeared over the morning horizon. Their journey had begun...And Goran and Emilene were leaving their home continent in the first time in their short lives.
End Chapter 2
Wow, chapter ended in less than 20 days, Now I know why AnT is so slow to update his stories!
Nice wheels...What a shame.-Nick Kang; True Crime: The streets of L.A.
No guns...You're a waste of bullets.-Nick Kang