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?
Fates Intertwined
Chapter 10:
Crash and Burn
A Star Ocean 3 fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards
The flames.
The flames were what he remembered the most, burning white hot, searing the tender flesh from his bones. He wanted to run away kicking and screaming at the top of his lungs, but he couldn't even scream because he was completely covered by the asphyxiating fire, stealing the breath from his lungs and turning it into choking smoke. There was no escape, nowhere to hide, nowhere to run, and no matter how much he beat at the flames, they just burned hotter.
He was dying.
That much he was certain, and all the while, his shocked green eyes stared in horror at the crowd that gathered to watch him burn upon the vindictive pyre. They were faces he clearly recognized, some new and some old: his college friends and teammates, his close acquaintances he had made at the gym and on campus, his various relatives, and his many esteemed professors. Worst of all were the faces at the forefront of the crowd, it was his mother and father, Sophia standing beside them, Nicholas, and little Meena at her brother's side, holding his hand without a word. Everyone had the same look in their eyes, shouting silently the same damning words.
Coward.
Weakling.
Murderer.
So they turned away with ashen faces, ignorant of the ghastly fate that had befallen their favorite son. One by one they left with accusing looks of shame and disgrace, each turning the dagger buried in his still beating heart with another sickening twist. Everyone left him, even his mother, father, and Sophia, huddling together as if mourning, perhaps asking where they had gone wrong to nurture such a monster. The crowd thinned until all that was left were two faces that he least expected to see.
A blonde-haired man, tall with broad powerful shoulders, muscled limbs that bespoke of great strength, and a set of golden earrings in his left ear, stood at ease. The dark gray veins that pulsated coolly with a dark green light upon his throat marked him clearly as a Klausian. He had his arms crossed over his barreled chest in an overt display of his distaste, his cobalt blue eyes hardened oddly with pity. He was someone familiar, but his memory couldn't recall who he was or what significance he held.
You'd better take good care of them both for me, ya hear?
Fittir, Cliff Fittir was his name, and he too turned away, leaving with his gloved hands stuffed vehemently into his black trousers, his posture hunched over forwards, as an air of clear disappointment clung to his wake. This left only one person remaining from the throngs of familiar faces that were abandoning him to his fate. He didn't expect to see her, didn't want to see her, but she was here.
Maria Traydor stood impassively beyond the roar of the fire, gazing at him with eyes of blue that held neither hate nor shame. She simply just didn't care, the flaming brilliance casting shadows and light about her beautiful face, as he burned into gray ashes under the column of black smoke. If he hadn't been in so much pain, perhaps he could've appreciate this small mercy, yet it eerily felt worse than any other blow he had suffered at the eyes of the others. She was carving out his heart with the bone-chilling knife of indifference.
Why? Why wouldn't she hate him, scream at him, jeer at him? Didn't she know how the wounds caused by his grave sin was festering, eating him alive, or was this all part of the plan to make him suffer in misery to his last breath? He wanted to know so desperately what she felt, though nothing good could come of it, but he had to know. Anything was better than dying without a reason.
Then the most bizarre thing happened.
Maybe it was the pain that was causing him to hallucinate again, but he clearly saw something, well, some things standing beside the blue-haired young woman. To her left was a child of twelve or so odd years, with long blue hair tied into a ponytail by a red ribbon and earnest blue eyes, dressed conventionally well-enough for her age. She was shouting vehemently, with her small hands clasped around the impassive young woman's left hand, pulling and shoving with all her might, as she shot urgent glances towards him. To her right was a much taller figure, shrouded in eerie towering black shadows that twisted and curled with life. It was a living cloak of darkness that lavished smoldering coils of obsidian upon Maria in the gentle caress of a half-embrace, while flickers of green embers loomed absently about her, like disembodied eyes.
He was both entranced and disturbed by the ethereal spectacle. The little girl could've easily passed as a younger incarnation of Maria when she was still a child, but who - or what - was that shadowy specter that clung to her? Could it be a messenger of death, or some other ill-omen?
Fayt would never know because his eyes melted out of their sockets, drowning him in darkness and the agony of evermore, as a gurgling scream escaped through the void in his eviscerated throat.
...Ma...ria...
...Don't...
...Leave...
...Me.
"Gaou, Mister Fayt! Fayt, Fayt! Are you there? Blink if you can hear me."
"Vee! Thank goodness you made it! Oh wait, don't move yet I haven't finished putting back in that...itai. That must've hurt."
"Sorry, Fayt-Fayt, it's not every day you have to put somebody back together from blood, ashes, sinew, and a whole lot of bone, ne?"
"Gaou, this is depressing... You know, even though we didn't know each other very long, I'm glad we met, and I hope you don't mind me calling you, 'Friend.' Oh! No, not like that, I just missed another liga-"
"Son'na...this is getting really messy. All right, hang in there, Fayt!"
"...I think this should work. Etou, could I ask you one more favor, Fayt-Fayt? I-I know I already asked you to take care of Big Sister Maria for me, but...please? I - Do you remember my - my necklace? Hai, the one with the small golden plate on a silver chain, I...I gave it to her."
"Please, you have to look after it! If she loses it, please take good care of it for Maria, for me, for us!"
"Gomen, I wish I wasn't such a burden, but this is the best I can do."
"Yes, this is - this is goodbye, Fayt! Good luck and take care of yourself too, Gaou!"
Eight sighed, shutting the door firmly behind her with a bang. She was tired and for once she was glad she had been born with a natural talent for multi-tasking, being an A.I. and all. However, there was little to console her troubled spirit as she wondered if there was something more she could've done for her friends.
"There's nothing more you could've done," boomed an androgynous voice, stronger than steel, but neither man nor woman.
The strong breeze carried the serene crashing of the undulating waves to her ears, the salty scent invigorating her senses for the first time. She could feel the wind, cool to the touch against her skin, while the sun bathed her in its warm glow. An innocent, blissful smile blossomed upon her for the first time in days, a genuine smile that was neither forced nor sad. Was this what it felt like to be human flesh and blood?
"Flesh and blood it is, weak and frail."
Yes, they were only flesh and blood at the end of the day, but she had to believe in them --- that everyone could carry on without her.
The voice sniffed in condescension. "Oh, they will, girl, most certainly they will --- to the death."
Air.
Pins and needles weren't supposed to hurt too bad, if it was only a few, but imagine thousands, perhaps millions of them shoved into every nook and cranny of one's lungs, and the sadistic imagination had a wonderful recipe for pain. Her lungs heaved her into consciousness with a dry hacking cough, gobbling up precious bittersweet air greedily, in spite of the agony that followed with each breath. It was foul to the touch, a sickly crumbling substance caked with tarry smoke that choked her throat, but she breathed it in all the same. She needed it and her body was more than happy to oblige.
Self-awareness took shape and form, solidifying with each new sensation she grasped. There was the arid acid smell of something burning, boasting of its hot fire against her skin. If she could, she would've vomited in revulsion. The smooth slick texture of cool fluid graced the side of her face, laced with a coppery scent that reminded her of blood. Her spent lethargic limbs burned and ached as if some great effort had consumed her being utterly, but she pressed on through shear force of will, gritting her teeth tautly.
The grim visage of a nightmare greeted her, though subconsciously she knew it was a violent confirmation of her worst fears. Roaring fires dotted the devastated landscape, blasted chaotically with great columns of black smoke that could've been seen from miles around. It was as if a devil had risen on this very spot and had taken with him ten miles of once forested land in every direction, burning away a fiery sulfurous crater of destruction that grew more vibrant by the minute. The trees were more than content to burn into oblivion, swaying merrily in the ominous gale that blew brightly lit embers and black sooty ashes to the four winds.
Worst yet, Maria knew all too well where she was in the misleading eye of this firestorm. High arching Gothic walls rose from all around, broken into jagged ribs from the empty ceiling that now beheld the blackening sky. It was these walls that once housed a humming hive of electronics and a convoluted chain of cables that twisted and turned as so to confound and drive the average mind insane. However to those that could appreciate its dark beauty, this was HEARTS Sanctum, the heart and soul of the Swordfish II's quantum mainframe where its artificial intelligence resided in the glowing spherical core set into the center of the cathedral.
The World had been shattered, black and blue "blood" pooled in silent witness across the once hallowed ground in outrage, as the gory contents of within were brutally strewn about like entrails, half-machine and --- something else. This was the scene of a murder, but whose fault was it? Who was to blame for this loss of innocence?
She's dead.
Fuufuufuufuufuu!
Dead.
Hahahaha!
Gone forever.
I... I killed her, Maria thought, as a terrible cold tore through her heart and ripped the warmth from her body altogether. If only I hadn't... How many more... I'm - I'm sorry - Eight.
There were no tears to be shed here, under the fading light of the blackening sky. She couldn't cry even if she wanted. The devouring void in her heart fed greedily upon her sorrow, widening the growing black chasm within. A leader, a true leader could not show weakness, not now, not ever, in their eternal vigilance, such was the price of command.
A warming sensation pricked the weathered azure-haired young woman from her reverie. It "flowed" from her partially gloved right hand, and she glanced down, noting that she had stood up subconsciously without knowing. What greeted her was a most curious object, familiar and yet not so familiar. It was a bloodstained silver necklace adorned with a rectangular golden plate, inscribed with a plethora of alien sigils and runs that she couldn't identify. The metal, oddly enough, felt alive. Brimming with warmth, it soothed her aching hands straight through the protective fabric of her fingerless gloves.
Such a nostalgic feeling.
Isn't it?
By a most natural instinct, she wore the enigmatic artifact, as if it had meant to always be hers. The silvery chain lengthened to accommodate her, while the metallic plate grew as well, adding veins that pulsated with a faint blue light. It was a perfect fit. Yes, there was something - nostalgic here - and for once, in what seemed to have been a long while, Maria felt at ease, even as everything around her burned to ashes amidst the wreckage of the Swordfish II.
The black sky rumbled with the clash of thunder, joined in harmony with the howling wind that sent her long hair and greatcoat billowing on the graces of the angry zephyrs. A storm was brewing - no - it was already upon them in fact. She could hear them approach, great wings beating swiftly in thunderous flight, as shrieks of fury tore through the air from their muzzled jaws. Another life for another fight; there would be no time even for proper last rites. Though marred by grime and a smattering of dried blood, the young woman adeptly brandished her microblaster with a crisp hiss of fabric, giving it a dexterous twirl before grabbing the handle in her firm grasp.
It was time to go meet her destiny.
Tearing screams of fury, the symphony of the hunt, the primal instinct of the chase, carried on the swift winds of fear and death; there would be no escape today for the ring of fire was everywhere, the choking smoke stealing the breath of his lungs. Already his legs were beginning tire as his foot crushed a pile of ashes, scattering searing hot embers in all directions, like stardust. He could run all he wanted to the brink of death, but death would still have him yet.
Abruptly, Fayt felt a debilitating sense of vertigo grip him as the world turned inside out and he was flung head over heels onto his back, knocking the breath out of him. A burning pain shot through his left leg from the ankle, throwing off his disorientation quickly, but also making two things very clear: 1. He had just tripped. 2. He may have just sprained his ankle or worse, leaving him quite immobile for the moment.
"Ugh, I'm not going to die here," the sooty young man growled, ignoring the countless aches and cuts all across his bruised body that told him to lay down.
With a shout of superhuman effort, he hoisted himself upright and began to limp off through the fiery devastation towards the direction of corridor of towering flames and black smoke rising from the wreckage. It was certain to him that something terrible had happened, and in the catastrophe, the Swordfish II had crash-landed somewhere, although to be honest, this was unlike any crash site he had ever seen on television. What could've happened to cause so much destruction? Wreckage was seemingly scattered for miles around, the forest was bursting into flames, and the sky had been completely blotted out in the process.
Night or day didn't matter anymore because this surely had to be Hell.
The heart-rending screams cut him down to the bone, his body clamming up suddenly against his own volition. Those things that flew on leathery wings, there was something strange about their voices. He was certain! From a distance, he had still been able to run, but as they had gotten progressively closer, the fearful lethargy had gotten worse. What was this power?
Hehehahahahaha!
Now, he asks.
Fool.
Deafer than a rat in outer space, I say.
It's obvious, so obvious.
Dragonfear.
"Dragonfear," Fayt mumbled, the word coming to him suddenly. It seemed he had known all along, an old unused memory buried somewhere that had no use until now. How strange it was indeed, but it was no time to be asking idiotic questions.
Mustering the reserve of his strength, he turned his gaze towards the direction where the whoosh of wind reverberated forth down the enflamed "corridor." His mind was grappling fiercely with the new knowledge available to him, trying to find some way to counter the paralysis in his body. All the while a parade of little voices in his head chipped in annoyingly with their little antics.
How brave.
How dashing!
Do we smell dragonturds in your pants?
Hahahaha!
Oh, that's a good one!
How about dancing a jig and praying for rain?
A rain of blood!
"Shut up! I can't think with you guys shouting..."
Oh great, he was really going nuts. He was starting to talk back to those imaginary voices! They weren't real, the young man reminded himself. They couldn't be real! He was a perfectly normal...
...Young man who has just woken up in Hell's Inferno.
Lost.
Weary.
Alone.
Hunted.
And looking for that-!
Oh dear.
Oh my, oh my.
We have guests!
A cacophonic shriek pierced the din of the roaring fames, shocking Fayt out of his internal struggle with his little "backseat drivers." As big (if not bigger than) a main battle tank, two dark shapes soared agilely through the inferno on the abundance of heated thermals, pivoting their long tails to make the slightest of adjustments with ease. The bright fire highlighted their armored hides of reptilian scale, with powerful Gothic bat-like wings for arms, and cruel talons on each foot that could slice a man in two.
Against an unarmed man on foot, this was definitely overkill. However, what caught the young man's eye on the outset were the humanoid figures, armed with lances, astride these awesome beasts. They wore heavy black medieval armor from the looks of things, but how did they manage to tame dragons? The notion was utterly preposterous in the modern world, especially after the discovery of a highly civilized Draconian race some centuries ago. Even the most primitive of dragons proved to be extraordinarily intelligent, not to mention equally ferocious. Could those "knights" - or should he say, "dragon knights" - really have accomplished such a feat? Better yet, were they even human for that matter?
Fayt bit his lip in stark apprehension, the blood in his veins cooling dangerously into a deeper lethargy; he was about to find out the hard way the answers to his questions. There was little room for doubt that they could see him quite well, with just two hundred odd meters between himself and them to spare.
The lead rider shouted harshly in a strange foreign tongue, composed beautifully as if "he" were singing, and urged his steed onwards with greater haste. Imagine what his surprise must have been when a massive sphere of brilliant blue surged outwards from the curtain of flames, sundering a wing from his dragon in a blink of an eye. A shower of crimson erupted from the bleeding stump, man and beast crying unanimously in bitter rage as they plummeted helplessly out of the air and into the burning wreckage that sealed their fate.
Cautioned by the death of "his" comrade, the second dragon knight wisely pulled back on his reigns tightly, forcing his dragon to take flight, beating its wings ferociously to gain altitude. He never did quite get very far because just mere seconds later, a white and blue figure shrouded in flames burst through the flames and landed neatly on the exposed hindquarters of his steed. The sudden unwanted addition of a burden coming at full speed, with the laws of gravity and momentum on its side, earned a sharp scream of outrage from the dragon as it dropped precipitously closer to the ground.
Shaken by the disturbance as well, the white-blue figure lost his (or her) balance and slid off the creature's rump with an audible shout. Only through quick reflexes did they manage to grab a hold of a protruding piece of gear from the dragon's harness, hanging on for dear life by a strip of rawhide. Not being a person to take too kindly to having excess baggage along for the ride, the dragon knight twisted about in his saddle and swung his lance in wide arc, trying to dislodge his foe. The interloper countered faster, however; a sudden crackling flash of light, and the armored man's head ceased to be, disappearing in a mist of blood.
With smoke pouring out from the sizzling stump, the headless armored body tumbled eerily out of the saddle in mid-air, smashing into the ground seconds later where it tumbled along boneless like a rag doll, gradually coming to a stop in a heap of twitching limbs. Sensing that its rider was no more, the still airborne dragon attempted to roll in order to rid itself free of its enemy, but by then it was too late. Fayt could only watch in horror as its abdomen exploded outwards from a series of deadly attacks concentrated at point blank into its side. Blood and gore spilled into the air with the beast's death, the carcass plummeting into the earth along with its "passenger." Together they disappeared into an explosion of earth and sparking ashes as the dragon gave a final gurgling death cry.
"What the?" the green-eyed young man murmured hoarsely as he suddenly felt the fear in his lethargic body give out. The enervating force coursing through his body sent him crashing down neatly onto his knees, all the while his eyes were still riveted on the scene before him, stunned by what had just transpired in the span of a minute. "What the hell just happened?"
Compelled perhaps by some force of will, Fayt rose to his feet, taking one step forward, and then another, and another, before he literally broke out into a dead run. He scrambled on all fours when he tripped over the still twitching headless body of the dead dragon knight, ignoring it as if it didn't exist. The only thing that mattered to his seized mind then was to discover the fate of his "rescuer" of sorts. He came to a breathless halt, just several yards away from the bloody carcass of the second dragon.
At first there was no one in sight, just an overwhelming stench of blood that was pooling in a great puddle around the once living beast. It was nearly enough to send him retching, as he was forced to cover his mouth and nose with a hand to ward off the putrid nauseating smell. Perhaps, the white-blue figure had perished underneath the great weight of the dead dragon in its fall? If only things were that simple, but he had no such luck as the very same person emerged moments later, staggering wearily from side to side, drenched neatly from head to toe in crimson blood.
This - familiar person held a smoking microblaster in hand. The barrel was red hot and warped beyond repair. Dangling uneasily in her waning grip, the damaged microblaster clattered wetly into the pooling blood beneath her feet. Flecks of azure showed through in her long waist-length hair, and though she was the vision of an Angel of Death incarnate, there was no mistaking who he saw with his own two eyes. A flood of emotion swelled up inside him that was unlike anything Fayt had ever known; something that he couldn't even put into words.
"You're - you're really... I thought I-!" he paused suddenly, green eyes widening in alarm, "...MARIA, BEHIND YOU!"
There was little warning beyond his words. The first dragon pounced, having slipped stealthily unnoticed out from the flames, with a scream of violent bloodlust, leaving a trail of smoke in its powerful wake from its still burning flesh. Though wounded grievously, there were few creatures that could stand up to a berserk dragon. Maria Traydor only had enough time to whirl around to face her foe before she and the beast disappeared into the thundering struggle.
The white flash of lightning.
"MARIA!"
Author's Notes:
Woohoo! I so love killer CLIFF-hangers! Mwaahahahahhha! Feel the pure EVIL-ness!
Phew, okay, I'm done ranting now. I'd like to thank all the guys and gals reading this little ficcie and dropping me some reviews, not to mention being extremely patient in having read thus far. Although the story direction may have disappointed a few folks, I can solemnly swear that the GOOD stuff now begins in earnest. We're here at last, home sweet Elicoor II! If you haven't guessed already, today's crash-landing on this "little" blue is going to be very violent indeed. I bet you can also fathom a guess whose coming up next, eh? Heheheheh. Now, remember don't go easy on me yet; I still take it with a good and the bad, so if you got something to say (constructive or otherwise) go ahead and drop a review. I'm always looking for ways to improve.
On the subject of homages and stuff, well, there's really nothing more to say on it. Burke pretty much addressed all the points I would've touched, so a big "THANK YOU!" to you, man.
Peace out, and look forward to the next chapter, guys! (Albel)