Final Fantasy

By: Darkknight61189

Disclaimer: I do not own the Final Fantasy franchise, but I do own all characters in this story. This story is mine, the characters are mine. THEY'RE ALL MINE begins foaming at the mouth. I'm ok. So anyways, yeah, on with the story.

Our adventure starts in the far, far away land of... Earth. This adventure actually takes place in the very not so near future. In the year 3000, with the dawn of the millennium came the rise of a new species, very fondly named test-tube babies. As infertility, gene linked diseases, and AIDS grew more and more common, so did these genetically enhanced babies. As a matter of fact, at this point four out of every five natural born babies died of AIDS, or some other incurable disease. Finally, scientists and doctors a like found it necessary to engineer humans to be more resilient to such things. But, as was feared, many people took advantage of such power, like the military, and out of such experiments as DOSS and MOLK came genetically enhanced soldiers. These soldiers were enhanced both physically and mentally. They had almost psychic powers, some powerful enough to call up tsunamis with but the blink of an eye. Many called them magicians, like that of fairy tales, but the educated knew that such powers came from the powers of the mind. Finally, in the year 3060, there was a massive war between the super powers of America, Russia, Germany, Japan, China, France and England.

The war lasted close to one hundred years, and was fought on various lands, such as Africa, Australia and many Asian countries. The destruction was so total that the continents of Africa, Australia and Asia were completely decimated, save for China and Japan. Many places were so covered in nuclear destruction that half the world's animal population was gone, many animals extinct or endangered, contaminated by nuclear sludge. IN the end, the seven countries made a pact to never use the enhanced soldiers for anything but preservation of peace. Unfortunately, they couldn't just exterminate them, because over the one hundred years, the soldiers became integrated into society. And so by the time the year 5000 came around, everyone had a bit of superhuman blood in them. Some were more pureblooded than others in this matter, and were called "supers." They possessed superhuman strength, reflexes, and cunning, but had one flaw; they only trusted those who've given their lives for them. With such strength and reflexes, they found that projectile weapons such as guns were a waste, and not worth their time. Over time, guns lost their hold over the world, and they went back to use swords and arrows. And so the world began to slowly crawl back to the way it was before the war, but peace never lasts long.

A young man of about twenty two walked into the pub. At his side hung a steel rapier in its scabbard, its hilt of ordinary design but highly polished. He walked over to the bartender and started speaking in rapid Spanish. The bartender listened, and then went into the back, returning with a data-pad. On the data-pad were listed missions, listed for mercenaries to enlist in. He picked out one of the missions, highlighting it with his finger, then pulled out a bag of money that he used to pay the initiation fee of two thousand gil. The 'tender took the data-pad, went into the back room again, and returned with a slip of paper that listed the mission specifics. The young man then promptly left the bar, leaving the bartender to wonder at why he had chosen that mission.

The young man walked out into the crisp cold night, and left towards the east side of town. He was not of a burly build, although he had toned muscles, and a strong wrist. He stood five foot eight and half, a little higher than the average man, and carried himself like a noble. Around him whirred city life, large neon signs, casinos, and quite a number of people drunken to a stupor. Although many people engaged in such activities, especially mercenaries, he prided himself on his self control, and found it useless to be incapacitated before starting on a new mission. He had a full head of brown hair, and eyes as red as the many people he'd slain. Although it has occurred to him many times that it was very possible for him to settle down, and live a life of peace, he enjoyed the thrill of the hunt more, and could not see himself living as a commoner would. Instead, he lived as a bounty hunter would, chasing fugitives and only barely staying within the lines drawn by the law.

He looked down at the sheet of paper he held in his hand, then continued down a lonely street lined with homely houses. He approached number seventy-two, and entered, not bothering with a lock, since he never locked his front door. His house was a bit on the smaller side, but is was al he needed, He only stayed here when he was returning from a mission, or recuperating from one. It had only a small foyer, where he had a small table and a coat rack. On this coat rack hung a baldric and a cloak, which he usually wore when he went out on a mission. Just inside this foyer was a staircase leading up to his bedroom and bath, and to the left was his living room, where he had one large comfy stuffed couch, a fireplace, and a sword rack. On it he hung his rapier, along with many family heirlooms. Above the mantle of the fireplace hang a rather large portrait of his family, but it had a few darts stuck in his father's face. He would frequently come home annoyed and throw darts at this spot. After entering the family room and to the right was a small kitchen, which he used to make food. He wasn't much of a chef, but he made do, learning from his mother when he was a child.

He hung up his rapier, and went upstairs to his bed, where he took off his street clothes and fell into bed, falling asleep after thinking about what he was to do tomorrow.

The next day, the man walked into the town square, where he was to meet his team. The mission he took was the most dangerous one on the list, and he always chose the hardest one. He looked around as the large clock in the middle of the square hit three o'clock. He then saw a young woman of about twenty-two years of age approach him.

"Hi," she said with a smile. She had a sweet soprano voice, and held a staff in her left hand as she extended her right out for a handshake. As they shook hands, he noticed her form of dress. She wore a loose pink t-shirt with a crimp right under the bosom that hung off her left shoulder. The shirt hung down to her thigh, which made our young hero notice the length of her skirt. It was rather short, coming barely half-way up her thigh. She wore little pink boots on her feet, which were quite small. Her hair was up in a ponytail that had been flipped up, fanning out like a peacock's tail. In it were woven beads and ribbons, accentuating the highlights in her jet black hair. Her elbow was wrapped in a yellow and white sweat band, while her wrists were ordained with many different bracelets. She had the figure of a warrior, and judging by the strength in her arms and her hands, that staff was for more than calling on magic. "My name is Fals," she continued, "I'm the one who set the mission."

"Hello, my name is-"

"I already know your name, and I knew you'd be the one to take the job," she said with a wink, "And I'm glad you did, I'll need your expertise."

A/N: Ok, then R&R please.