Summer
Chapter 3: Sneaking
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Seifer lay on his bed in his dorm, exhausted from being so obedient back at the detention room. And he counted the goodies that he missed out when he chose to stay back. The trip to Balamb town with his posse, the new extension for Hyperion, now rested in the back leather gunblade case. Not to mention the food that they would get to eat. Man, he missed the fish fillet over at the seaside restaurant. And he was saving his allowance for it. Whatever did he do to bust this trip to town, he sure regretted his actions now.
The rhythmic whirling of the ceiling fan on top of him was getting increasingly irritating, and he tossed and turned on the bed, willing himself to stop feeling so down and short-changed. Fists clamped themselves on the edge of the bed so to stop him from being edgy, but it obviously wasn't working. Sitting up, he faced the leather case that set itself upright against the wall, a glint of the metal chain peeking out to lure him to finger out the gunblade. His hands start to itch, and he grabbed the hilt of the blade, brandishing the sword to make it glimmer in the dusk.
"Now I'll have to take it out. Can't help it." He heaved it onto his shoulders, carelessly tapping the blunt edge of the blade on his trench coat, and got out of the room. This time, not with that Leonie boy, not after he had that pesky detention he got out of picking a fight with him. He strolled down the dormitory halls, out into the circular corridor that spanned the entire Garden.
"Right or left?" Right would lead him to the front gates, and he can train there, even though rules strictly said that no training to be done outside Garden after six, but he was leader of the future Garden Disciplinary Committee after all. Rules? What can they do to him? Left would take him to the Training Centre. Mundane landscape, puny monsters, limited spells to draw, and it would take him ages to level up. He had to make a choice between the boring centre, or the open land space.
He moved an inch towards the right, but stopped short. In the case of being caught by the current Disciplinary Committee outside of Garden after six and not adhering strictly to the rules, he would hence be sent to Quistis, his mentor for punishment. And what else but another round of detention? A cold chill suddenly ran down his spine, and he tried to shrug the feeling off, tried to act nonchalant. What, him of all people to be afraid of Quistis and her stupid way of punishment? He had to be kidding himself. Bravely, he took another step down the right corridor, but gave up. No way was he going to be barbequed by Quistis in that stinky hot classroom for the whole afternoon again. This time it'll probably be worse. Squall wouldn't be there for entertainment purposes.
He scooted down the left common hallway, feeling like a dog that had his tail between his legs.
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Boy, it was surprisingly quiet for the Training Centre. He pushed open the flapping doors, eyeing for some Grats to kill, and maybe pinch a little of their sleeping powder for tricks on the boys. Stepping in slowly, he spotted a waving feeler behind a bush, and jumped on it. The beast leapt away in defence, then immediately released a stream of sleeping gas at his direction, which he dodged just in time. Bracing another charge at the creature, he sprang from a rock and aimed his Hyperion at its heart, killing it right on the spot.
"Nice kill. Now time for some war spoils." Picking up one of the feelers, he dusted it for the powder, careful not to inhale any, and pocketed the white stuff into his trench coat. Pinched his nose just in case he breathed in the sleeping powder that still lingered in the air. "Belch, I think I'm gonna get out for fresh air." Holding his breath was tough, and he strode out of the Centre, removing his hand away from his nose so people wouldn't see. Adjusting his trench coat, he tilted his head, and tapped his gunblade on his shoulder blade again, the look of smugness back again.
Then, as if to spoil the look, his stomach growled loudly, but not loud enough to let the nearest person hear. Still, his notoriety demanded that he appeared his best all the time, and not someone that would sound starved. Ego had him sauntered towards the canteen, but he would have preferred that he walked at least more quickly.
"Man, I'm gonna kill for a hotdog." He clutched his empty stomach, wishing himself to behave more Seifer-like, instead of the chicken-wuss Zell. He approached the canteen, all dim and deserted, and cursed. They just had to wrap up the place early. Kicking the counter, he slapped Hyperion on the countertop, drumming his fingers against the smooth marble layer. Now he was hungry, and there was no stopping the almighty Seifer once he was hungry.
Eyeing the kitchen door that was ajar, he twitched his lips, an eyebrow raised. This was just a perfect setting. Empty canteen, no one around to spoil the fun, and loads of food back in the kitchen. He wondered if he was ever this lucky. Leaving his gunblade on the counter, he strode into the dank area, adjusting himself to the dim lighting so he wouldn't crash himself into some trolley or crockery. There was only one thing in the kitchen to focus on. The source of food, the hidden treasure closet of food. His stomach did a rumba.
"Great." Rubbing his hands, he closed his palms over the refrigerator handle bar, and pulled. A huge burst of cold air greeted him, before the sight of tons of food overwhelmed him. Plates of cold, frozen lasagne, oodles and oodles of hot dogs (he wondered how with so much supplies, hotdogs can still sell out) and fruits. Reaching a hand into the storage, he plucked an apple out from the fruit bowl, wiping it on his shirt before chomping down on it. Ah, fresh and cold from the refrigerator. Drumming his fingers on the fridge door, he looked in to check for more, but heard the sound of squeaky sneakers coming from outside. That sound was so familiar. Shit, why on earth am I so downright unlucky? He slammed close the door, back against the side of the fridge and hid his apple in his trench coat pocket.
"Hands up, intruder!" The figure shouted in the dark, and pointed a whip at him. "No use resisting. I'll have the rest of the Garden right behind you."
"Uh, Quistis?" He pushed himself off the fridge to stand in front of his student mentor, and grinned.
"Seifer?!" She couldn't believe her eyes, and blinked twice before recovering to her usual demeanour. In stern tones, she addressed her fellow classmate. "What are you doing here?" She crossed her arms and looked at him. It was obvious he was sneaking in to get something to chew on.
"Me? Nothing. Thought I saw someone come in, so I thought I would check it out. Turned out to be a rat though." He stuck his hands in his pockets, fingering the smooth apple he nipped, and raised his eyebrows at her. "What are you doing here anyway, Quistis? Looking for food?"
"I am on my patrol duty, Seifer. Looking for the same intruder you saw." And it's you, damn it. She stuck her whip back into her waist, and turned away to walk off. "You better not be caught."
"Sure, sure." He leant against the table counter, and took out the apple again. Teeth sank on it before he realised the powdery substance that coated the apple. Hot damn, the sleeping powder in my pocket! He spat out the remnants of the remaining apple that was still in his mouth, but it was too late. It was already whiffed through his nose. His five senses start to fail him, and he was getting increasingly drowsy. Perching himself on the counter, he muttered in a soft voice.
"Uh, Quistis... I'm falling asleep. Help..." Eyelids started to droop, and visions became blurred. He heard the muffled sound of the squeaky sneakers again, and from the corner of his eyes saw a figure running back to him.
"Seifer!" The female voice called out just a few steps away from him. Then he blacked out and collapsed onto the linoleum floor, the apple rolling away from his palm.
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OOC: Funny chapter, never thought I would have written such a story, but here it is. My first attempt at parody.
