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Disclaimer:
Star Ocean 3: Till the End of Time is the creation and property of Tri-Ace, who created this wonderful anime/video game series, and the publishers at SquareEnix. Anything not attributed to them belongs to their respective owners, such as references to Cowboy Bebop (the Swordfish II) that is a creation of Sunrise and Shinichiro Watanabe. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a high school student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further adieu, let's get on with the show!
The Surgeon General's Warning:
Read at your own risk. This might take you on a trip to some happy lovey-dovey place.
Oh, and yes, there's a very high Fayt x Maria coupling possible here, or I could completely screw everybody over and do the unexpected, ja?
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Fates Intertwined
Chapter 01:
Hot-Blooded Righteousness
A Star Ocean 3 fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards
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They say that just about everybody possesses "free will," that sentient beings are able to change their destinies at will by the simple motion of putting thought to action. Yet, in the infinite span of time, there are moments of the present that truly are remarkable for they are the true defining instances of one's soul. It was at the twilight of such a crossroad now that one, Fayt Leingod, age nineteen, was experiencing from the business end of a Rezerbphase blaster.
Norton! That scumbag!
"So! Any pretty last words before you go, hero?" the pale-skinned Rezerb crooned, his voice dripping with mocking sarcasm. He had the righteous Earthling right where he wanted him with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. At this range, he'd gun the kid down before he could even try anything funny. It was game over, plain and simple.
The blue-haired boy snarled; his youthful face filled with indignation. He balled his hands into fists at his side, quivering with anger, but unable to act in the slightest. Fayt knew the tactical situation and possibilities all too well. They were all less than acceptable outcomes, and Norton had him completely at his mercy. "You! Y-You!"
"What's wrong, kid? Never been angry before?"
"Its because of guys like you...!"
"Ha-hahaha, come on! Say it! You know, you want to...!"
"I'm going to kill you, Norton!"
The would-be king of thieves howled with mirth. He loved this feeling, this empowering sensation as he held another's life at his leisure and to watch with unsaid glee, to see them degenerate into the same kind of savage, a greedy thug, a blood-thirsty murderer, just like him.
Wait, what's that? Norton paused briefly, a gloating snipe at the tip of his tongue. Is that a halo on his forehead or something?
He blinked a little, hoping the kid didn't notice his consternation, in an effort to clear his vision. Alas, the strange "illusion" remained right where it was before hovering before the Earthling boy's forehead. The kid seemed completely unawares of it himself. Could it be just his imagination after all? Bah, of course it was, there's no way that kid was some kind of biologically engineered weapon of mass destruction! "Heh, its been fun, hero, but it's time for you to die. Say, hello to Nicholas for me when you see him - in Nastrond. I'll be having plenty of fun with his little sister later."
"Why you...!" Fayt snarled back in a rage. The metallic whistle of a sword drawn from its scabbard signaled the falling of curtains. He knew he would never make it in time with twelve measured paces between him and the wretched scoundrel, a fatuous smile on Norton's pale face. Yet Fayt could not stop, would not stop for the life of him. Dying like a dog was out of the question.
The Rezerb trained his gun casually, the safety off, on his victim. There was a bright predatory gleam in his eyes, savoring the rising crescendo of drums for the final curtain call, the climax of the show!
Death.
"Die!" he shrieked, hammering the trigger.
-
There was little time for second thoughts. Her body moved of its own accord, the cold feeling of her microblaster grasped in her hand the first sensation. Countless hours of training and practice drills kicked in, instinct took care of the rest while dexterity zeroed in with needle-like precision. The last sensation, a flicker of light and a hissing whine of ionized air as the microblaster gave a hearty kick.
Faster than the eye could see a near invisible bolt of lit motion smashed into the target. A shrill scream reverberated through the dark humid cellar, sending a shiver through her spine. The rush of adrenaline, a heady high, as her legs continued to carry her forward, ignoring the satisfying clatter of the Aldian phase blaster.
-
"Gyaaahhhhh! My! My! My hand!" Norton wailed pitifully, clutching what was left of his mangled right hand, his phase blaster discarded on the ground.
The stench of blood and sizzling flesh clung to the air like a miasma, assaulting the senses ruthlessly. It was enough to ground Fayt's mad charge to a halt. His body rigid as a great fear that he had not grasped before abruptly accosted his once courageous heart. The green orbs of his eyes, windows to his soul, stared out in horror and morbid fascination.
He had never seen anybody get shot before - especially not right in front of him so he could see the traumatic results.
Just then a new sensation caught his attention, Fayt turned to his right, a blank doe-eyed stare in his green eyes. Shocked. Incomprehensible. The urgent staccato of pounding footsteps echoed from down the corridor. Someone was coming, fast.
What should I do? he wondered. Should I run away now? Norton could pick up his gun any moment. ...Wait! What am I doing here!
A tumult of confusion bowled him over, silvers of panic digging across his psyche. The blood in his veins quickened, as a nervous sweat building up against the heat of his skin, pupils dilating wildly. He had to run. Yes! He had to run. Whoever did this was coming! He didn't want to be here when they came!
Fayt half-turned as if to run, his thoughts wild with emotion. That's right! I'll run! No! I'll hide! Just until...
Suddenly he stopped. The blue-haired young man remembered something, something important. A weight in his right hand drew his eyes, and he saw the simple sword he clutched in his plain hand, tighter than death. Knuckles white, his fingers protesting with burning indignation.
Nicholas! he thought sharply, his face lighting up in realization: the reason why he had come here to the bandit's hideout.
The cold fear lifted, his body burning with rekindled courage. He wouldn't run. Fayt Leingod was no coward. He promised! And he wasn't going to back down, not this time, not ever! No more running away!
He spun around, sword at the ready. Norton's cries had receded steadily in his absence and now only a baleful hate burned in the pallor of his pale eye, his mouth twisted into a feral snarl. He ignored the flurrying rush of rapidly approaching footsteps altogether. "You! You did this? Didn't you?"
Fayt scowled. He honestly didn't know who had fired that shot, but he would deal with it in its own time sure enough when he got to that bridge. "Its over, Norton! Give it up!"
The man snarled back in some alien invective, a series of harsh guttural barks that was all lost to the universal communicators. An eerie burning zeal gleamed in his eyes. Whatever he had said, it couldn't have been pleasant. "Shut up! You think you've won? Think again, hero!"
Norton deftly reached back with his remaining good hand, a malevolent smile on his face. Madness radiated from every pore in his skin as Fayt abruptly realized was about to happen. Frantically, his mind tried the list possible options in a rapid flurry. The high fantasy-oriented battle simulator game had never prepared him for a tactical situation of this degree!
"Get down!" shouted a new voice as a shrill ominous whine filled the air.
The Rezerb laughed, "Eat this!"
Fayt could scarcely even react to anything, a bluish-white blur slammed into his torso, knocking him down with the force of a bull. A flash of light, acrid smoke, and deafening noise assaulted his ears.
Dead silence.
At first, there was nothing, then a punctuated whine filled his ears. He could hear it, the angry rapport of blaster fire and vehement curses. There, a receding sound that was like a rush of footsteps, an unusual jerky tempo that spoke volume of an injured man.
"Norton..." Fayt wheezed, barely above a hoarse whisper. The pupils of his green eyes dilated intermittently, trying to readjust to the sudden change of light.
Suddenly, he felt something grab him by the shoulders, strong half-gloved hands. Flesh met flesh. They were small hands, a girl's hands probably, and they reminded him of Sophia. How nostalgic, the blue-haired young man thought. Yet, they weren't Sophia's hands. He could feel calluses in them, lending a kind of coarse earthiness to them, but there was also a delicate gentleness in her strength. Who was she?
"Fa..."
"...ay..."
"Fa..t..."
Whose voice is that?
-
"FAYT!" Maria shouted. Her musical mezzo-soprano etched with worry. She pleaded silently to whatever power that may be that the flash detonator hadn't seriously hurt the boy. Fayt Leingod had to be okay. He just had to!
The young man in question at last began to stir. A punctuated groan at his lips, no doubt a side effect from the flash detonator that he had taken a virtual direct hit from, but it didn't seem he would suffer any last trauma, at least not yet. She breathed a silent sigh of relief, supporting him upright into a more comfortable position. Hardly did she even think twice about letting him lean on her, as he certainly wasn't coordinated enough yet to support his own weight.
Fayt blinked warily, bringing up a free hand to message his temple with the flat of his palm. This truly had to be the worse headache in his life. He gave a few stilted coughs, his throat irritated by the acrid smoke, which definitely wasn't helping matters. To think this whole mess started from a simple enough desire to do the right thing!
"Are you all right, Fayt?" Maria asked him. A palpable presence of concern radiating from her person as she cradled the blue-haired young man rather protectively in her arms. If any irreparable harm had befallen him, she would make certain that the Aldian received a fate worse than death. No one would dare to harm Fayt Leingod while he was under her expressed protection; she wouldn't allow it, period. "Are you hurt? Is anything broken?"
His body trembled against her with more hoarse coughing. "Wa...ter..."
"Here, drink this," she told him soothingly, procuring a canteen from the compact satchel worn around her waist.
Helping the half-blind boy to unscrew the bottle cap, Maria felt a nostalgic sense of accomplishment as he drank deeply from its contents. It pleased her to see the he would recover quickly, a small smile of content blossoming on her face before she even realized. Strange. She hadn't felt like this in a long, long time. The smiles she shared with Cliff, Mirage, and the rest of her surrogate "family" were - different. This emotion, this warmth; the last time she felt this was...
Maria snapped out of her reverie, feeling suddenly the distinctive attention of two green eyes gazing at her. She pushed her thoughts aside, locking them away safely for later cross-examination. Now wasn't the time to be sentimental. Besides, what was this faint heat she felt in her cheeks anyway. She couldn't have caught some native wild fever, did she?
"How are you feeling?" the light blue-haired girl asked her charge casually.
Fayt gave a start, averting his gaze awkwardly. He really hadn't been staring, honest! "Uh...uh, its, I mean... Um, yeah, I'm feeling better now. Thanks for the water."
"Its actually an electrolyte solution meant for use by Federation Space Marines in combat that efficiently quenches a soldier's thirst while replenishing his or her supply crucial electrolytes required by cells to regulate the electric charge and flow of water molecules across the cell membranes. A must-have, considering the highly demanding, ever changing nature of the battlefield."
The blue-haired youth blinked. His thoughts were liken to a scrambled array of hover cars and shuttles during rush hour, crossing dangerously through traffic with manic glee in the face of certain doom and mayhem. What was he supposed to say to that? After nearly a week of sitting around (or moping around brooding on recent traumatic events like some anime hero) doing nothing, today was quickly turning out to be a festive day of revelations, conversations, and surprises (both pleasant and unpleasant).
He certainly wasn't expecting to be rescued by this...
"You're staring again, Fayt. Is something wrong?" the girl in question spoke up, brow creased with unease as her voice seemingly jumped out from nowhere.
If possible, Fayt Leingod would've done a spectacular spit-take right there. Instead, he could only opt for the natural response of flushing a visible shade of red in embarrassment, puzzling his rescuer even more.
"Do you have a fever, Fayt?"
Hold on a second! How did she know his name?
"N-No, n-no! I'm fine, really," he told her awkwardly, trying his best not to sound like a complete idiot. Come to think of it, she truly was quite pretty - no - beautiful was more like it. A light blue shade of silken hair that flowed past her shoulders, matching eyes that radiated a quiet strength, filled with determination. Her stately, yet functional clothes and noble bearing spoke volumes: a leader, diplomat, Renaissance woman, and no doubt a skilled marksman.
Okay, she was beautiful, attractive, and completely out of his league.
Maria nodded her ascent. "Very well, can you walk?"
"Huh? 'Can I walk?'" Fayt replied, meeting the young woman's gaze once more, a question clearly written in his eyes. It was then, too, that he realized the rather close proximity between his person and his savior. His tongue locked up again, unsure of what he supposed to say without offending her. Fortunately, this may have saved him from further mortification.
"The Rezerb is still on the loose."
"Norton!"
"Yes, if that's his name. I caught of a glimpse of him escaping through that secret passage over there. We will need to move quickly, if we're to stop him before he does something - rash."
"Rash? What do you mean, 'rash'? Do you have any idea what he's done! That scumbag violated the 'UP3' and has been terrorizing the villagers of Whipple ever since he got here! The local lord refuses to do anything to help the villagers too! That man's a menace!"
"So I've heard, but you must remember that peoples of the Aldian Empire, such as the Rezerbs,have no obligation to abide by the Federation's 'UP3.' Under legal law, this is beyond their jurisdiction."
Fayt frowned, barely restraining the urge to gasp. The realization had struck him breathlessly as well as any real punch to his gut. Righteous indignation burned in every fiber of his being, not wanting to comprehend and rationalize the gravity of the situation. If he had gone after Norton and killed the vile scoundrel, it would've just been cold-blooded murder, not matter how morally justified. Ethically it was just wrong, plain and simple.
Suddenly, he felt a growing resentment for his mysterious rescuer. Why had she told him this? She had ruined everything! The blue-haired young man scowled, green eyes as smoldering embers of reproach. He pushed himself rudely away from "That Girl," scooting back a comfortable margin before addressing her once more, showing no signs of remorse, "So what are you proposing to do?"
"Experience tells me that Norton has a trump card up his sleeve and I intend to stop him before he causes anymore irreparable harm to this world," Maria responded, seemingly unfazed by his curt behavior. Her calm, cool eyes and still at ease body language betrayed nothing, but inside was a different matter. She felt - hurt - for some reason. Oh, she knew better than to blame fault in another, but around Fayt... Ugh, I'm behaving in a completely irrational manner. He's just as hot-blooded and righteous as the reports said he would be. I should have been perfectly prepared for this.
Still, it did hurt.
"Keep in mind, I have no intention of killing him. Machines can be replaced, but lives are finite. It is not our place to play judge and executor. If possible, I would like to capture him alive so we may return him back to the Aldian Empire where he can properly serve out his due sentence."
"Wait, how do you know he's a fugitive?"
The question caught her mentally by surprise, but she deftly evaded it with a sweet half-truth before she even realized.
"I could hear you both shouting from the entrance of this cellar. The cold air and acoustics carried your voices easily."
"Oh - uh, right."
"So can you walk?" Maria asked him again, rising smoothly to her feet with a barely audible rustle of fabric.
Fayt rose sharply, feeling oddly challenged by the light blue-haired girl. Alas, he hadn't fully recovered yet from the trauma of the blast and he staggered uneasily on his feet. That Girl made as if to steady, but he curtly cut her off, "Stop! I'll be fine! I'm just a little light-headed, that's all."
Maria didn't say a word, keeping her cool as always, but she was definitely starting to grow a touch of a pet peeve around the Leingod boy. She noticed the sword discarded on the stone floor between them and bent down to pick it up. A simple weapon by all accounts, its state-of-the-art craftsmanship was clearly beyond anything made by sentient hands. He must've had this weapon made by the replicator aboard his escape pod before Norton ransacked it, probably.
"I presume this is yours?" Maria presented the sword to Fayt, holding it outwards in a reverse grip with the handle towards him and the blade parallel to the ground. The sword didn't waver at all in her grasp despite the manner of her grip.
Apparently, she was a lot stronger than she looked.
The blue-haired young man accepted the sword from her. "Yeah, its mine."
Maria nodded and drew her microblaster adeptly from its holster with a hiss of leather, earning her a look from Fayt. He clearly was still holding onto the UP3 like a safety blanket, even though its sanctity had been violated quite a while ago. The leader of Quark also had the distinctive feeling that the young man in question was going to lecture her later too. Nobody said being a leader was easy.
"Let's go," she told him, breaking away with surprising celerity into a dead run towards the open maw of the secret passage.
Fayt was about to protest, partially in astonishment and partially because he just remembered about Nicholas. He glanced back to see that the elfin Vanguard boy was mercifully unharmed, still lying unconscious the stone frame of his open cell. Torn between two urgent needs, the young man reluctantly readied his sword and chased after the receding echo of his rescuer's footsteps.
"Sit tight, Nicholas. I promise I'll be back for you," the young man vowed solemnly. He would see to it that justice was done, although he wondered if he could truly hold back from killing Norton.
Fayt ran in pursuit.
-
The balmy glow of the warm sun was a welcome sight from the dank, dark cellar (more like a dungeon), lit only by a few scattered torches. Norton's secret passage had lead out into the barred, debilitated cathedral, a ruin perhaps from some long by-gone era. The pews were long empty, but some of the exquisite mosaic glasswork was still intact. If she hadn't been so preoccupied, she would've gladly taken a few minutes to admire this fascinating site.
Instead, Maria was on edge, standing like a poised Klausian kith-kat, ready to pounce at the slightest whim. She stood in the middle of the aisle, eyes at the alert, her ears straining to hear some suspicious noise besides the constant rush of water through the aqueducts in the area. Danger was in the air, a palpable tension that even Cliff would've cracked a wise remark at to ease his discomfort.
Her breathing was steady, making no moves to mask it. Jumping the gun was one of the worst mistakes possible that a marksman could've made, which would've been exacerbated by holding her breath. This wasn't some "sneaking mission" where stealth was highly recommended. No, this was a rescue mission and she honestly didn't mind having to talk with the business end of her microblaster if it came down to it.
"Careful and watch your step. There are some thick vines and roots growing through the cracked masonry," Maria warned her charge.
Fayt gave a start and nearly tripped over a broken stone tile himself with a yelp. He had just emerged from the secret passage moments ago, holding his breath in an effort to move in a stealthy as possible manner when the mysterious girl had called out to him. In spite of his blunder, she didn't say a word, although grudgingly he had to wonder if she thought he was an incompetent. He spoke in strained tones, trying his best to mask his irritation, "Where is he?"
"The million dollar question," she remarked casually without turning.
"The million-what?"
"It's an old Earthling saying. One of my mentors - no, my godfather - is a big fan of adages, especially the more humorous Earthling anecdotes. Of all the races, he believes we're the most entertaining of all."
"We're the most - oh, you're an Earthling too?"
"Birds of a feather flock together, no?"
Fayt nodded tentatively, unsure of the truth in the words. "I guess so."
"Hmm," Maria murmured thoughtfully.
Her ears had picked up a new sound. The carefree chirping of birds was barely audible over the din of rushing water streaming through the exposed ancient aqueducts. It was peaceful all right, much too peaceful. Surely, the animals could sense the innate danger in the air.
Abruptly, she heard it. The tumultuous flutter of a hundred wings beating frantically together in a rising storm that overpowered the voices of the protesting water. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, like they had been electrified. She whirled around on Fayt, her instincts breaking loose, her eyes screaming what could not be said immediately, a warning.
He comes!
"What the!"
"Down!" Maria commanded, tackling the blue-haired young man to the ground roughly. He gave a barely audible oath of protest before a faint blue matrix of light snapped into place around them, radiating seemingly from the girl's body.
Just then, it happened. Even years later, Fayt would remember this terrifying instant in his life, a haunting thing that would follow him straight to his grave. There was that seemingly infinite sound, a piercing wretched shriek that shook him to the bone, setting his teeth squirming painfully in place. Violent super-heated air buffeted them from all sides, his ears popping as air pressure rapidly decreased. He felt like his skin was on fire, his blood boiling in his veins. Desperately, he wanted to scream but could not as the very air in his lungs was seemingly being "sucked" out of him.
He was suffocating, burning alive, so much pain! Then there was the light, that so terrible light. It was power given shape and form, an endless column of white energy, crackling with electricity, which sundered all in its path. Fayt was afraid, so very afraid. If the mysterious young woman hadn't been shielding him partially then, he was certain he would've gone blind from its awesome brilliance, if not mad. It was close, so close; close enough for him to reach out - and touch it.
It could've been an eternity for how long it went on to him but just as suddenly, it was over. He had lived, survived this horrible ordeal. However, the damage had been done and he would never be the same again. Little did he know this was but the beginning of his many nightmares to come.
-
"Ugh, too close for comfort..." Maria seethed with a pained wince. She had taken the brunt of the trauma from the plasma cannon discharge and her body, especially her back, was now loudly protesting the unjustified beating it had taken. The things one did as a leader, but surely, some rest and one of Mirage's heavenly body messages would do her good. Her godmother seriously had to open up her own health spa one of these days as a private venture. The Gods of Klaus themselves must've blessed those hands!
Still, at least her hair was having a swell time, completely frizzled out from the leftover static electricity that was audibly humming in the air.
If Cliff could see her right now...
-
"Heey, Maria! Did I ever tell you about the time I was body-guardin' for this fine felinefolk ambassador on Cancun Seven?" Cliff addressed her cheerfully in his distinctive drawling tones. He was positively glowing with good feelings today, his handsome face all done up with a satisfied grin. By the old Earthling adage, he looked and felt like a million bucks. Maybe he finally won the Klaus GQ sweepstakes for Male of the Month.
Mirage shook her head, smiles as always. She murmured in hushed tones to Marietta, like cats in a corner, earning a muffled laugh from the helmswoman.
"As I can recall, I don't believe so, Cliff," Maria replied neutrally in an effort to humor him. There weren't doing anything particularly important and the blonde-haired Klausian male just absolutely loved to tell tales of his grand, spectacular exploits. It was hard to believe that Cliff Fittir was well into his late thirties, yet he had more energy, an insatiable zest for life than thirty younger men half his age did, and that was a lot of testosterone all right.
"Oh, man; oh, man! You have got to hear this, Maria!"
Yes, he was definitely in a good mood.
"Okay, I was doing a job about ten years ago, maybe two years before I met you, and long after Mirage got my back, if you know what I mean."
"Uh-huh."
"Now, Cancun Seven is like one of the biggest babe hotspots in the entire universe! There are few places where you will find more beautiful women (or surfer dudes if you like) struttin' the streets, the plazas, and the beaches! in all the wonder and majesty, that Mother Nature gave them. Oh, so many beautiful people! Why, the first time I arrived on Cancun Seven, I was positively moved beyond words; I could feel the tears streaming down my face, even though I tried to hold them back. And then I fainted riight there on the spot!"
"What? It was the most touching thing I had ever seen in my life, Maria. It was like coming home, you know!"
"You fainted...Cliff?"
"Of course, any artiste worth his art is going to cry like a baby and faint on the spot like a fan-girl at an N'Sync Two concert."
"So - I see."
"Anyways, I was protecting this one felinefolk ambassador gal and she was real young, if you know what I mean. I'm still surprised they put a masked babe like her on the job."
"'Masked babe'?"
"That's the Artiste way of saying babes who haven't discovered their inner 'babeliciousness.' That's easily fixed enough by an artiste of my experience."
"'Babeliciousness' - I'll have to make a note to look it up later, but please continue with your story."
"Yeah, of course, Maria! So anyways, I took it upon myself to show her The Way of the Babe."
"'The Way of the Babe.'"
"That's right. Its sort of like Bushido, except it's a code for babes, eh?"
"Hmm."
"Weell, it took quite a bit of work, but in just four days Miss Felicia was well on her way to one-hundred percent. I even got her to agree to go on a date with me, just the two of us on a private beach that we had all to ourselves thanks to a couple friends of mine."
"Impressive, Cliff, although I'm sure Mirage would approve much more if you were to dedicate the same zeal to Quark's affairs."
"Heey, I give my all to all tail, Quark included. It's just around babes that the effects are a lot more spectacular!"
"So, you say."
"Yup, so we're out strolling together under the starlight sky, the twin moons of Cancun Seven serenading us, and not another soul in sight 'cept us. It was beautiful, Maria. Romantic. Perfect. I told myself that nothing could go wrong tonight."
"It must've been a memorable evening."
"Oh, man, it gets better, Maria. Oh, it gets much better. Now, I don't know which clown or joker decided to infiltrate the Cancun National Weather Center right then and there, but all of sudden it got all moody and cloudy, a real fine big mess. My plans were all messed up huge, so I figured we'd just go back to my - uhh - I'd escort her back to her pad, you know. But right then, the biggest fluke of nature happened!"
"...Don't you mean 'freak of nature,' Cliff?"
"No, Maria, fluke of nature! It was the most amazing thing I'd ever experienced."
"That is?"
"I dodged a lightning bolt, Maria."
"I mean it. I really did dodge a lightning bolt, Maria. I got no clue how I did it, but it was like 'BLAM!' and 'WOOOOO!' Ever since then, I got the official title of 'Lightning Dodger Extraordinaire' added to my artiste status trophies."
"...Lightning...Dodger..."
"Yeah, it wasn't easy either. Heck, I'm not even sure I can do it again, but I'd sure love to give it one more shot. Heh, what a rush!"
"Out of curiosity, what happened to Miss Felicia?"
"Oh, Felicia?" Cliff remarked with a kind bizarre inflection in his voice, as if he had just remembered something - odd. He was scratching the back of his head with his free hand on his hip in a kind "I'm Bad, so Bad, I'm Feeelin' Good!" manner. It was one of those purely Cliff moments.
Maria nodded, ignoring the obvious sign that she was about to hear something from the realm of Cliff-Weird. Yes, Cliff-Weird.
"Oh, she was kind of a humanoid fluffy fur-ball for about a week or two, completely killed her babeliciousness super-id. She was AFRO'd, big time."
She tried to picture a humanoid fur-ball in her mind - and gave a shudder.
-
Yes, a fur-ball.
Cliff sure had some crazy ideas locked in his head.
Never mind that! What about Fayt? Maria berated herself sharply, snapping out of her brief reverie. She looked down and met the gaze of not a man but a thing that nearly made her lurch back with a flinch. Cliff and Mirage had told her about this, not to mention she was intimately familiar with subject having been a patient once herself. A nervous breakdown was certainly not uncommon among sentient beings. With the right combination of high stress factors, anybody would "snap" sooner or later.
Having the said breakdown in a middle of a battle, though, was definitely a cause of concern, considering peoples' lives were at stake, specifically one Fayt Leingod and one Maria Traydor, although he didn't even know her name yet. She'd have to introduce herself properly later, but there might not be time for that either.
Quickly, she leapt off him, ignoring the ghastly devastation around her and the acrid burned out smell from her fried personal shield generator strapped on her hip. Without it, they would've ended up worse than slag and a direct hit would've certainly left little more than atoms. She scrambled in search of a particular item, Fayt's sword. It lay discarded none too far way, luckily unharmed by the plasma blast. Maria thanked her fortune that she hadn't been stabbed when she had tackled its owner down to the ground for the second time that day.
That didn't mean Chief Seiya wasn't going to shoot through the roof (again), when he heard she had fried another one of his personal shield generators, with an absurd screech of frustration.
With the boy's weapon recovered, she hurried back to his side, making a note to recover her own microblaster that lay unattended beside him and return it back to its holster. Now came the hard part of hauling Fayt out of here. The sword would need to be carried in case she was able to snap him out of his near comatose state, or he managed to recover in time. The light blue-haired young woman highly doubted either scenario was possible, but she could try to hope for the best.
Maria heaved Fayt across her shoulders, which was no easy task since her charge was: a good one to two heads taller than her, most certainly heavier than her despite his slim physique, and she lug around his sword too. She gave a grunt of great fortitude when she rose to her feet in a precarious balance that took a few moments to steady. Honestly, she had to wonder how Mirage handled a heavy weight like Cliff on a daily basis when she was having trouble managing just with Fayt. The disproportional strength must've been one of the more beneficial perks of being a Klausian the light blue-haired girl deduced.
She double-tapped on her communicator with her free hand, hailing her ship, The Swordfish II. "Eight, I need transport out of here A-SAP, copy?"
"Roger, ma'am, E-T-A threee minutes," an energetic female, child-like voice responded as Maria trudged as fast as she could out of the destroyed church. It looked like somebody had taken a pair of hedge clippers and completely sheared off most of the building. Clearly, the leader of Quark and her charge had escaped by a truly narrow margin indeed.
"Careful, the El-Zee is hot, I repeat, the El-Zee is hot. Tango position unknown. Plasma discharge, minimal Class Three, maybe Five. Could be a tank, triple-A, a ship, or an arm slave, over."
"Ten-Four!" Eight acknowledged before closing the encoded transmission.
Help would arrive in three minutes, but would she survive another three minutes out in the open with the universe's current most pissed off sniper? A sniper who was using a high output plasma cannon to snipe with no less? Maria hoped her luck was as good as Cliff's miraculous hunches.
Otherwise, this living bundle of hot-blooded righteousness on her shoulders was just going to go to waste.
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To Be Continued...
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Author's Note:
A big "Thank you!" to all you readers who've read and/or reviewed so far. Also, many thanks to Tristan and Zosocrowe for the technical heads-ups and "spiritual" support. Without them, this very special Cliff-Weird moment would not have been possible. Oh, and I hope I didn't do too bad with Fayt. The game's portrayal of him makes him so blah and you never really get a feel for the way he ticks, but there is clearly some variety to his character progression judging by the various possible responses he possesses in personal actions.
Revision Note:
Fixed the little formatting SNAFU with the "U-..." sentences. Apparently, QuickEdit's software doesn't like having things with more than one dash in them. I was literally trying to sound out UP3 in words for the dialogue since people don't exactly "speak" with arabic numbers, hence the military geek speek later with "El-Zee" instead of "LZ."
As for Norton being a Rezerb, dang, my bad. Its been awhile since the beginning of them game. Think I could maybe slide by in lobbing the Rezerbs as a "liberated people" or "citizen worlds" to the Aldian Empire? I can't even remember if there was anything even significant about them. Well, fixed that too.
Maria's really long and odd monologue in a middle of a fight, not to mention her sometimes rather absorbed introspection. Inappropriate. Weird. Overboard. Yes, I'm definitely guilty as charged. You wouldn't believe how difficult it is to maintain a good 3rd Omniscient POV; too much stuff going on in my head.
Fayt using too many exclamation marks during his introspection in the hideout: Okay, I think I screwed up somewhere. The marks are supposed to be there to accent his panic/trauma at the time after seeing Norton's hand pretty much blown off.(The game mercifully censored us all from the visible physical effects of the high-tech weaponrypresent in the SO3 universe on a sentient "flesh and blood" being. In other words, no gore - well, there's gore now.) Maybe I went out a bit too much on a limb with Fayt's righteous anger at the time that was awakening his "super powers." Hmmm, wild with emotion...
Pop Culture References: Guys, chill out. I'm not trying to win any awards here. My theory at least is that Culture is persistent with both the good and the bad. After all if it wasn't, why would we as a high contemporary society care about things, like what sort of midnight liasons Julius Caesar's wife might have had, or why the heck the Romans bothered with such a "barbaric" bloodsport in the fashion of gladiators duking it out in the Colloseum? We have football teams and so many other things named after seemingly outmoded stuff, i.e. The Buccaneers, the Cowboys, the Patriots, etc. Why bother at all? Because its part of history, human nature as we know it.
But anyways, just chill out, folks, and for those of you who can recognize them, more power to you!