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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 02:

Showdown

A Star Ocean 3 fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

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Even in the contemporary era of SD 772, the topic of "Vengeance" was still very much a subject of debate among philosophers and legislators alike. When the law didn't serve due justice to a man or a woman, did he or she not have the right to demand just satisfaction by their own means? There has always existed a history of vigilante justice, which was far from solely isolated in the human race. Of course, one had to wonder whether they same satisfaction could apply to criminals stripped of nearly all rights and privileges.

Right now, though, Norton could give less than a wamp rat's hide about criminal justice.

He was out for blood and he would have it as surely as the blue son-of-a-schutta's head on silver platter. That frack had got his hand! His very favorite hand too! He was going to kill that frelling fracker for sure!

"Ha! How'd you like that, hero? Not so tough now are you with Big John on my side!" the Rezerb jeered triumphantly. "That'll show you to frack with Norton, son of Krulan, the greatest Warlord to ever grace Rezerb!"

Truth be told, the daring escape that Norton himself had related to the foolish Earthling boy had been a half-truth. His father, though not a particular loving man, was a man of great insurmountable pride. The mere thought of even one of his fool sons rotting away in some hellish prison for an equally foolish stupidity had irked him greatly. Krulan would sooner die than have his great name shamed in such a way, so he had arranged for his wayward son's escape attempt.

The pale-skinned scoundrel had certainly been telling the truth when he remarked on the series of unfortunate events that had sabotaged his prisoner transport ship. His father had arranged for the "materials" superbly, completely untraceable so that no fault could be traced back to him. The actual act of putting the scheme together still fell down to Norton. Privately, he admitted he had gone overboard a touch, but overkill was better than impotence.

Now, he sat in the cool cockpit of the last parting gift from his father, a Rezerbian state-of-the-art Nousjadeul-Ger assault-class arm slave. The Warlord had been so kind as to hide it amongst the cargo manifest pre-programmed already with an activation code that only Norton would've been able to infer. He had been saving it for a rainy day ever since and that day was today. Once he had confirmed that Earthling brat was dead, he was going to go burn down that stupid village next and that incompetent lord's estate! They would all pay in blood for this insult.

"Let's see here - WHAT!" the Rezerb sputtered, pale eyes bulging visibly in their sockets.

Pure, utter disbelief was written all across his slack-jawed face as he saw a figure emerged from the ruined church. It was an off-worlder, too, by the looks of its high precision quality clothes. Those clothes could've only been made by a modern manufacturing infrastructure. A female, she was burdened by a seemingly unconscious figure on her shoulders that Norton quickly recognized as the insufferable Earthling boy. His face contorted with fury, realizing this all meant.

Funny, he should've known he had other visitors today.

The Rezerb laughed a cold harsh laugh. There was a murderous, evil gleam in his eyes, pale white teeth glittering from the glare of the panoramic display monitors. "Hah-heheheh, too bad. I guess Nicholas's little sister will have to wait. Business before pleasure and I'm going to have a lot of fun tearing those fracks to pieces!"

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Come on, come on! There has to be somewhere safe I can hide Fayt temporarily! Maria thought urgently in between labored breaths.

Her booted feet pounded loudly against the stone pavement, much to loudly for her tastes. Despite being burdened by a near-comatose Fayt Leingod and his replicated sword, she trudging along at a good pace, not near as fast she would normally move but well enough with the circumstances. Still, the light blue-haired girl didn't like it one bit at all. Norton was out there somewhere, probably prepping up for a follow up shot. She had just made it past the adjoining courtyard and onto an extended bridge, a critical junction onto the "town" proper portion of the ruins.

A sitting duck waddling about in the open with only two ways to go: backwards or forward.

If there were to be an ambush or another attack, it would be now. Maria had nowhere to run and she wasn't about to leave her charge behind either. So, what could possibly be keeping Norton? What was he waiting for? Oh, if only Eight could get here faster with the Swordfish II without getting spotted!

Wait, what's that sound? she paused promptly in mid-stride.

There was an eerie hum in the air. It set her teeth on edge, the hairs on the back of her neck jolting up, electrified. She could hear it, a distant whistle closing in fast. There was an unspoken question of apprehension written all over the frown in her complexion. What could it be? Was it an artillery shell?

Her answer was more than prompt enough.

A black shrieking blur slammed into the ancient masonry a good fifty meters, the impact a deafening crack that stung the ears. Maria instinctively raised her free arm to shield her face as roaring shockwave whipped past her, sending her white long coat billowing in the violent wind like a cape. Her hair drawn back painfully by the gale force winds, she weathered the ensuing onslaught of dust and debris. The entirety of the ancient bridge was shaking in indignation, threatening to come apart right underneath her feet at any moment.

Gritting her teeth in determination, the light blue-haired young woman struggled to keep her balance while continuing to shoulder Fayt. So much for the ambush, she observed with clinical detachment, or anymore "poking around the bushes" for that matter. Norton was more than up to a challenge.

The dust settled soon after and Maria wasn't heartened to see the artillery the fugitive had decided brandish before her. It stood at least fifteen meters in height, taller than even Cliff's impressive AG-02S Hurricane Hawk, with a generally humanoid design. It vaguely resembled a giant suit of armor in the philosophy of most arm slaves with no hard angles and a completely curved, sleek armor design philosophy. Various exhaust vents appropriately made themselves apparent on its muscular limbs while a communication antennae made on the side of the head, like a crest.

She had certainly never seen this type before with its large bore cannon protruding from its stomach and a swivel-mounted medium bore cannon on its backpack. The color scheme was starlight green with black gunmetal and red visor over the main cameras. Whatever it was, there was no doubt it was a formidable war machine. Her chances of defeating such an opponent, considering the circumstances, were quickly dwindling as she ran down a list of possible options.

Two minutes and twenty seconds until Eight arrived.

"Well, well, guess who's back?" Norton crooned. The sweet mocking tones of his voice amplified bone jarringly loud by the external loudspeakers as he leveled a hand-held beam gun of some sort at her and Fayt. "I'm back, larger than life, and no more screw ups this time!"

Maria lowered her arm, maintaining her resolve with a show of cool neutrality in the face of certain death. Leaders weren't allowed to show fear, ever. Weakness was a thing to be eradicated, a costly human frailty that could ill be afforded. The fires of war and desolation had forged her. If this bloodthirsty thug thought to intimidate her, he had another thing coming to him.

The Rezerbian arm slave cocked its head to the side, as if mimicking a sudden thoughtful mood in its pilot. "Hmm, I haven't see you around before, female, but let me guess - you're that Earthling brat's friend aren't you?"

"Neither friend or foe, I am but a humble negotiator," the leader of Quark replied lightly. She doubted she could talk her away out of this, but she could certainly buy a few more seconds. "The young man here has some unfinished business with a number of concerned parties from his homeworld. I came to take him back to say the least."

"Heh! Well, those fracks are going to have to wait because he'll be dead!"

"Oh, has he caused more trouble already? He seems to have an awful bad habit of doing so from what I heard from my clients, a regular troublemaker."

"Troublemaker? Troublemakers' don't blow a hole through your hand and frack up your day, schutta!"

"Perhaps 'troublemaker' is too bold of an euphemism."

"Shut up, the Earthling brat's mine. Drop him now or I'll send you both to the shores of Nastrond - together."

"Are you sure you want me to drop him?"

"Urrgghhh! Forget it; throw him instead. I don't care if he split his head open on something. I saw you two both crawl out of that church like freyurk worms and one of you is going to die fast if you don't do as I say, now!"

"Are you sure you want me to throw him?"

"Do. It." It was a forceful command, punctuated by the humanoid mecha slamming its foot irritably into the ancient masonry with a thunderous rumble, sending another wave of tremors across the bridge.

Mentally, Maria winced. She didn't want to go "swimming" but she might not have a choice in a few moments. Taking a sidelong glance over the edge, she became aware of the rushing artificial river running beneath the bridge. Facets of a bold scheme precipitated in her thoughts as she wagered where the river emptied out. It was highly likely further into the lake while these ruins were but situated at its substantial periphery. "As you say..."

The light blue-haired young woman moved timidly, bending at the knees in preparation to hurl her charge to the ground. A gesture that earned a barely restrained gasp of glee from Norton; his arm slave was poised like a proud hunter. Soon, bloody vengeance would be his and then he could go about burning this countryside to ashes and dust.

Alas, it was not to be - not at all.

With a sudden burst of speed, Maria broke towards her right and heaved with all her might. The Rezerbian's amplified cry of dismay echoed seemingly across the horizon as a vague blue blur splashed into the rushing water, swept away in a near instant by the strength of the artificial river. Tricked! He had been tricked. His quarry squirreled out of his grasp by one meddlesome female.

Norton gave a blood-curling scream of frustration, "You crazy schutta! Who the hell do you think you're screwing with!"

"You told me to throw him, but you never said where," the leader Quark replied innocently, unaffected by the bruising tones of the furious man, "I did say I was a negotiator. You should've been more specific as to where you wanted the boy. I'm afraid we won't be catching him anytime soon, unless you know where this artificial river runs to...?"

"Shut up! You die now, female!" The Rezerbian war machine took a rumbling step forward menacingly, the visor lens flaring red. "No one crosses me and lives to talk about it!"

No word or thought was needed at that point; Maria knew what was coming. She turned but briefly to align herself in the direction of the starlight green giant before vaulting backwards in a single powerful back flip. A wrenching shriek of light slammed into the spot the young woman stood moments before, obliterating the masonry in a shower of debris and dust. The force of the blast caught her in mid-air, carrying her back much further than she intended.

Hot adrenaline flowed like sweet ambrosia, her countless hours of training driving the precisely controlled muscle contractions in tandem. She twirled in midair, a swirling top of white and blue, righting herself about adeptly, hair and clothes billowing outwards breathlessly. Norton could only watch with begrudging awe as Maria landed gracefully without a hitch several meters away from where she began, still holding onto Earthling brat's sword. This was no ordinary quarry he was dealing with, that's for certain.

"How's your hand, Norton?" the light blue-haired girl shouted loudly at him. Her voice bared no emotion or haughty condescension, surprisingly. There was only the same cool neutrality as before. "You missed, badly at that."

The infuriated Rezerbian was about to fire back a curt remark when a bone chilling thought struck him rigid. That female had just referred to his hand. She had mentioned his hand, specifically! Was she? Did she? No, it was she. A murderous guttural scream roared forth from the external loudspeakers, more than loud enough to shatter glass windows, as the Nousjadeul-Ger leveled its electron beam gun and squeezed off another bolt of "lightning."

Maria dodged again, flipping backwards and springing off her hands to give her the extra leverage to propel herself through the air. She landed deftly some distance away, undaunted and battle ready, still holding onto Fayt's sword. Two gaping holes in the ancient bridge's masonry now graced her path, but it was not time yet to spring the trap. Anticipating Norton's attacks were turning out to be surprisingly easy.

One minute and fifteen seconds.

It was a fact that didn't go unnoticed by the pale-skinned man. His frustration blossomed into fury. That accursed female was taunting him, baiting him on to take another shot at her. How she was avoiding the assisted-automated targeting systems of his state-of-the-art arm slave completely baffled him. She had dodged not once but twice, mocking death in the face of certain doom. It was taking all of his self-control not to fly into...

"What the?" Norton sputtered dumbfounded as he saw the female draw a weapon with her freehand. A puny blaster of some sort, it was much too small to be anti-armor weapon. She didn't honestly think she could take him down with that little thing did she?

Maria twirled her microblaster deliberately, regarding her opponent carefully. Her personal sidearm had been custom tuned personally by Chief Seiya, one of his favorite masterpieces that he fondly took pride in as the one thing she hadn't broken yet. The balance was perfect, needing only the slightest gyrations of her wrist to continue its steady revolutions, punctuated by a rhythmic whoosh of air in its wake.

Suddenly, faster than the eye could track, she gave her wrist a slight twist, the microblaster settling into her grip like a glove. The rapport, an electric ephemeral whine, was of little consequence. A bolt of crackling blue shot out at incredible speeds, slashing through the air effortlessly, and promptly did something queer beyond measure. It ricocheted - no - veered hurriedly away from within meters of the arm slave as if repulsed by something.

It was a most curious discovery indeed.

"An electromagnetic shield, I'm impressed," Maria called out to Norton calmly, a trail of smoke hissing from the business end of her microblaster, "I didn't think the Rezerbians put such a high priority on the survival of its military personnel."

The pale-skinned man sneered in turn, "And just what are you supposed to be, female? A Klausian? Or some kind of freak experiment that should've rotted like feyurk shit in the pits?"

Thirty seconds to go.

On the surface, the leader of Quark feigned a calm composure, but inside, a furious storm rose from the depths of her soul. The scoundrel obviously didn't have a clue about the tender subject he had just crushed so haphazardly. Only the reins of her superego held back the murderous desires of her id screaming indignantly for retribution. Her grip on Fayt's sword tightened audibly, knuckles turning a pale white, slender fingers taut around the handle; any tighter and she would surely snap the handle in half or draw blood first. She was not a freak!

"If I was a Klausian, I doubt we would be having this conversation right now."

"Heh! We'll see about that! I've just been warming up."

"So you say, but I think so otherwise."

"Shut up, what's your game, female? You can't dodge forever."

"What game?"

"Hehehehe, I smell a trap, that's what."

"Hmm, I guess there's no point in holding back anymore!" Maria announced with finality, a fierce battle cry at her lips.

Leaping onto a chipped stone railing of the bridge as she charged ahead, body bent forward at full tilt, the light blue-haired young woman focused her will, concentrating on Fayt's sword. The blade began to hum, glowing with a faint blue light. The thrill of battle fueled Maria to startling new feats of prowess, nimbly dodging the rapid burst of shrieking electron bolts big enough to swallow a car whole. Shrapnel and debris flew, the Rezerbian's mad laughter booming above the staccato of pounding footsteps and the rapidly exchanging rapports of gunfire.

The distance between them closed sharply as the young woman ran, cutting the safe margin of each shot closer than before. It was like running through an infernal gauntlet of death on a burning bridge, weaving precariously between hairbreadths of safety and sweet oblivion. Maria could feel her muscles begin to tire, the intense fatigue rapidly building as the tissue burned and ached in the lactic acid, lungs straining for more air. Silently, she feared that she might not make it, that would collapse, leading to a horrible instant, or would faint outright in her courageous charge.

But I can't turn back now, the young woman told herself with a determined scowl, the only path is forward!

Behind the rage and killing instinct, Norton's reason could scarcely believe what it saw, screaming one warning after another that this was foolishness. This female was unlike anything it had ever encountered. She ducked and weaved amidst the deadly onslaught, moving with uncanny speed that even a Klausian would have trouble matching, little more than a bluish-white blur. How could a mere sentient possibly evade the best automated targeting systems the Rezerbian military had to offer? She hadn't even used symbology, anticipating his attacks as if she knew they would happen before they even happened!

It was impossible, completely impossible.

The Earthling brat's sword, gripped tightly in her grasp, was positively shining now, like a bloody beacon. With every step the female took, it grew brighter and brighter. Though he didn't understand why, the Rezerbian knew distinctly that Death was riding fast on the heels of this girl. He could already see the pyre that was to be his funeral.

"Damn you! Why. Won't. You. Just. DIE!" Norton screamed over the loudspeakers.

The Nousjadeul-Ger abruptly leapt back, an ominous crash marking its landing a good ten meters from its original position at the edge of the bridge. Planting both feet firmly into the ground, it began to divert power hurriedly to its main weapon, a humming vortex of energy building up around the large bore plasma cannon protruding from its gut. This was it, the end game, and the Rezerbian was going to obliterate everything in his path.

Maria glowered at the light, firing desperately with her microblaster to no avail. Norton's evasive leap had set her back too far, even as she crossed the threshold onto the occupied side of the bank. She would never make it in time, still ten seconds short. Her lungs and muscles, burning with exhaustion, were on the brink of collapse, teetering dangerously on a knife-edge. They would not be able to sustain the last leg of her battle charge, and there were few options left to her.

Her body was exhausted but certainly not her mind. She racked her memories for symbology protocols or "spells," searching hurriedly for an appropriate response to her tactical situation. The light blue-haired young woman now regretted slacking off a touch in her studies. Maria had been dabbling gradually into the "art" of Symbology about a year ago, after discovering by accident of her symbological potential. Unable to find a suitable instructor due to pressing circumstances, she had been learning a few spells here and there in her spare, all of which were unfortunately useless in her predicament.

No! She refused to give up in despair. She would not die here, not like this! She had promised; promised that she would live! There had to be something more, something she hadn't thought of yet. What was it?

Suddenly, Maria knew.

"Angel Feather!" the young woman shouted, a white aura of power surrounding her as plethora of glowing white feathers exploded into the air around her. In a single majestic leap, she propelled herself into the air, higher than even the mighty Klausians could manage with their superior physiology, defying the laws of gravity.

Norton ignored the ethereal miracle in front of his eyes all together, fueled by a rage that left him deaf to his fearful perception. He roared fiercely and fired the plasma cannon simultaneously as Maria hurled Fayt's shining sword at her grudging foe. The two spearheaded columns of light shot through the air, turning day unto night in a blink of an eye, to meet each other head on in a spectacular clash of might.

The explosion! The brilliant flare of light!

"This is - THE END!"

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The lake was quiet, not even a leaf stirred in the lush expanse of the vast valley. Nothing moved; the once relatively peaceful world of Vanguard II stood still for a moment on a day that will forever be forgotten.

A row of blue tracers pierced the horizon with a shrill electrifying whine, dispersing from the epicenter of the fallout. A half-gloved hand erupted from a series of holes shot through packed, smooth white sand, followed shortly by a ferocious grunt. Then the other hand emerged as well, garbed identically as the first, fighting for purchase, which was no easy task as it was encumbered by a weathered microblaster still clutched tightly in its grasp. The white sand shifted, bulging upwards into the outline of a figure.

With a gasp of air, Maria Traydor emerged from the aftermath. She was harried and distraught, her eyes wild, and covered more than her fair share of soot and grime, which was a far cry from her usual stately appearance. Her face spoke upon volumes of unsaid words, but they also surely asked of one question, the most important question one would ask after surviving a miniature nuclear holocaust of sorts:

What the hell happened?

The last thing she remembered was charging at Norton, realizing she had come up a few liters short of adrenaline when the scoundrel and leaped back evasively, and then... Well, there was a blank tape (about five minutes worth of it) where memories should've been yet none were to be found at all. Her only alibi was a chilling testament of the destruction around her. Whatever had happened had effectively leveled any structure above ground and shattered the remaining ancient bridges connecting one portion of the ruins to another.

Not to mention there was blast crater about fifty meters in diameter dead ahead of her, honed to a fine glass finish.

Norton. That's where I remember seeing him last, but - there's no wreckage at all, Maria thought with growing apprehension. What could've done this? Could it have been... No! That's impossible.

It was a long forgone conclusion, the only logical conclusion. Her sharp, clinical mind had already come to the realization of what her heart had just begun to grasp now when she had laid eyes upon this eerie desolation. It was not so much a thing that had done this unspeakable feat but more so a person. The light blue-haired young woman was intimately aware of just who had done it.

She spat hoarsely, "I...did this."

Her soul reeled back from the gravity of those few words. Maria fervently tried to deny it for she had long told herself that it was she, who was in control. When her powers had first manifested themselves, she felt no fear, only an urgency to do what needed to be done. Though she only vaguely understood the "gift" that Professor Leingod had given, the young woman was confident that the Power did not control her. It had always been that way since then, and it would remain so until her last dying breath!

Now, she found her once infallible confidence in herself - disturbed.

"Miss Maria! Are you okay?" a familiar voice roared all of a sudden.

The leader Quark found herself caught off guard with a gasp of dread. Instinctively, she brandished her microblaster defensively in a wide arc, scanning for the source of the voice and any potential. To her astonishment, there was none and instead she found herself engulfed in a confusing vortex of noise and activity. She saw then the huge shadow that encompassed her surroundings, as funneled humming jets of near-invisible motion disturbing the rushing flow of air and water. Gazing upwards, Maria saw a sight that eased her aching heart for the moment.

It was her personal ship, a state-of-the-art corvette refitted by Quark engineers, The Swordfish II.

"Better late than never, I guess..."

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To Be Continued...

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