Disclaimer: I don't own any characters or scenes of Final Fantasy VIII. All that all belongs to the dedicated employees of SquareEnix.
Hey everyone! My apologies for taking a while to update. Like I've stated before, this is a hard year of school, so I've really been focused on my studies more than other tidbits like this. I've spent some time thinking this chapter over, and finally set myself upon an actual storyline of some sort. I think it really begins within this chapter, so hurray for my development! YAY!
IttanMomen: Thank you for all your wonderful and prompting reviews. If it's not to just get you off my back, then I write simply because your dedication deserves it. Thank you again.
Anonymous reviewer 'Just a Friend': Yes, I did make Rinoa a bit rash in the first chapter, especially because she's a professional. I just couldn't help myself seeing Rinoa as being her usual whining self, but this time with a weapon. I'm trying to develop her character to being both spoiled and impulsive. (She was more so the former in the game, hehehe.) Anywho, if it's really bothering you too much, I hope you find some solace when Irvine mentions her problem and his disapproval of it. His comment was added to emphasize how unprofessional her actions were. I hope I cleared that up a bit for you.
One more thing: if you're reading this anew, I've changed some things. After completing the outline for this story (finally) I decided I didn't need any OC characters... so I destroyed them. Actually, The end bit is exactly the same, only the two characters were changed to Ward and Kiros. Go ahead and read it if it's bothering you that much, but nothing in the story has changed besides that. And I swear to make no more mistakes throughout this story! Sorry!
Happy reading!
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Chapter 4: Spider's Message
Ours is a world of nuclear giants and ethical infants. We know more about war that we know about peace, more about killing that we know about living. -Omar N. Bradley
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The sun shimmered high above in the clearing sky of morning, the rays striking the earth with its first breath of warmth. Thoughts reflected between the crystallized colors that bent through the glass of the train's window. Squall sat with his head resting against the hard clear surface, absently studying how the scenery twisted at the corners of the window's curve. Only one week was left to himself they had said, before he would be called in to take care of some political issues that had been transpiring within the docking companies at Dollet. Squall wasn't stupid, nor were those who managed his occupation. They had told him what his next objective would be knowing perfectly well that, despite his sour attitude and lack of blissful dedication, he would take most if not all his vacation to investigate the job. It was an order never spoken, but distinctly implied.
Squall let out a long sigh, taking a moment to feel the compressed emptiness in his chest before inhaling a new breath. He moved his thoughts away from the ever-present stress of work and searched his mind for something, anything, to divert his attention. Nothing. It was startling to realize the contrasts of what emptiness felt like comparing his mind to how his chest had been only moments before. Lack of oxygen left him in tight recoil, waiting for the time when it was necessary to continue the cycle of breathing. It was heavy and burdensome. In his mind, though, the oblivion was vast and absorbing. To hold onto the nothingness was to become addicted to its pleasant beckoning. Unlike the need to suck in air after only seconds, Squall felt comfort in knowing he would never really have to return to other thoughts. But he did. He always did. Now was the time to avoid asking himself why, as was the next part of the routine in his daydreaming. Life seemed to hold so little meaning. Yet it moved onward, pressing at Squall's blistered heels and pulling from his numb arms.
Crystal blue eyes cracked back open from previously being held tightly shut. The passing landscapes outside blurred together with the increased speed of the train and the tired eyes that despondently tried to capture individual objects. The eyelids slid back together, this time softly, as Squall attempted searching his mind for reverie again. He vaguely wondered why it was so hard to find something in his life beyond the distasteful job he carried out year after year. It was almost as if he had known no other existence but dealing with mercenaries and industrial problems. He fought hard to see into a past that seemed to never belong to him. It was difficult to determine whether he deserved it once or was deprived of what he really needed. Were his long years of vigorous training and arduous assignments what hardened his senses, or was his natural personality what made him perfect for the job? These thoughts were beyond such a young mind, despite its constant inquiry and relentless quest for knowledge. Instead, a familiar voice with a hushed rasp scolded him from the deepest corners of his mind. It was always there, especially when Squall attempted to hide in the vacancy of his thoughts. It was the one and only reason he left every time, fleeing false comfort to return to the painful realities of life. The voice chided him now as it always did, giving him doubts and sometimes making him a nervous wreck. Nobody would know from the outside, as Squall held a brick façade before his true self. It was all he could do to stay sane.
Sleep swiftly overthrew the voice though, and Squall slipped into the only true happiness he knew. The usual routine of dreams took over.
"Hey! What are you doing?"
The young boy looked up from where he crouched by the frame of an open door. "Nuthin'," he protested and stood quickly. His small hand reached behind him to pull the heavy wooden door shut. The sun's light was cut off and shadow stole upon the interior of the room.
"Don't lie to me," warned the older girl, walking over to the boy and kneeling in from of him. "Show me what you were doing. I can see that guilty look in you eye, mister."
"It's nothing, really," the boy, no older than seven, still tried to seem convincing. He turned to open the door a crack, letting a thin stream of light back onto the tile flooring. He then pointed to the inner edge of the small porch. "Jus' killed a spider and threw it outside, that's all." The boy closed the door again and looked back to the girl hovering over him. Her face was stern, but her eyes were cloudy as she searched the boy's face, as if trying to find the right words. She then sat down on the floor and scooted over to the nearest wall, patting the floor beside her. The boy came over slowly and took a seat next to her, knowing he was in for some sort of a lecture. Oh, how he dreaded these.
"Listen," she sighed, "I know it's not that big of a deal, I don't even like spiders that much, but stop and think for a moment. Where was it?"
"The spider?" asked the boy incredulously. The girl nodded and put her hand on the boy's matted brown hair. "I found it here, right by the door. Why?"
"Did it bite you?"
"No…"
"Did it come after you?"
"No…"
"But is scared you, didn't it?"
"I guess," the boy concentrated on the girl's face, truly confused. "I don't know what you mean."
"Just because something scares you doesn't mean you have to kill it," the older one tried to explain.
"But it coulda bit me! Or you!"
"But it didn't, right?" the girl remained ever patient and merely smiled warmly at the young boy. "Spiders do a lot more good than you think. They'll eat all the nasty bugs that can make you sick. Did you know that?"
"Yeah," whined the boy as he tried to pull the older one's arm off his head. "We learned that in school a long time ago."
The girl ignored him and continued on with a sense of self-pride, "If you weren't so stupid, you would have put it outside," she shoved him teasingly.
"If you weren't so dumb, then… then… you wouldn't tell me to do something as dumbly as that," the boy tried to retort.
"That doesn't make any sense," the girl hardly contained her laughter. "Well, we've just pulled within range of Dollet so please gather all your personal belongings and be prepared to disembark in five minutes."
Squall's eyes shot open in surprise. The present was brought back to him as his dream slowly drifted into the category of pointless moments in his life. Before he knew it, the whole dream had vanished, only unconcerned wisps remained. They were disregarded immediately and Squall focused his attention on his current situation. He looked out his window to see an endless expanse of the ocean. Cargo ships were silhouetted on the far horizon. The train itself ran near the edge of a cliff, teasing the doom of its depths with deft travel over the terrain. Up ahead, stretched out into the ocean some distance, laid the city of Dollet. A docking community it was indeed. Perhaps more than half the city bordered along the shore, piers holding as many structures as the heart of the city.
Squall scowled out of irritation. This wasn't his first time in Dollet, and it probably wouldn't be his last. The city was one of the cores to the criminal economy and proved vital to the main businesses and illegal industries. All financial or political issues couldn't be resolved by officials, so formed major dents in the easy flow of open markets and economy. SeeDs were potential commoners in Dollet's region, having to keep an eye on the imports as well as social confrontations. Gardens would be a major program to suffer should the criminal economy go into ruins or even dilemma.
The train pulled into the station in more or less five minutes. It came to a surprisingly silent halt and bright green lights flashed over the exits. The electronic doors made a swoosh in unison as they opened on either side. The public shuffled their way out of the train, Squall among them.
The day had moved into early evening sometime during the trip. Most of Dollet's businesses were just opening up to the public. Lights flickered on over the long cobblestone streets, reflecting in the shallow puddles gathered by the curbs. The town square's massive fountain possessed its own lighting as well, shifting the water into shimmering crimsons and yellows. The orange-rimmed sky was littered with thin, streaking clouds that shifted ever so slightly in the western breeze. The ocean beyond glimmered peacefully as seagulls flocked onto the piers to retire for the night. Foghorns roared in the distance, making notice of the ships' return and the stock they held for seafood restaurants.
Squall took all this in with one sweep of his eyes as he stepped into the center of town. The stars blinked on one by one, pushing evening into even further depths. Shop signs flickered to life and the SeeD lazily trudged over to the immense hotel behind the fountain.
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Inside the hotel room laid a small round desk, two single beds, a counter with a sink, and a connecting bathroom. The wall lamps were already lit when Squall entered the room and cast a soft yellow glow onto the carved furniture. The burgundy wallpaper enveloped the room in a crimson tranquility and comfort. He seemed to always get this room.
Squall's immediate notice went straight to the desk at the end of the room. The drapes behind it shifted softly in the breeze of the open window. On the desk was placed a small brown piece of paper.
The SeeD walked over to the table and inspected the note before opening it. The paper was dark and thick, like that of a grocery bag from downtown. It was crumpled up into a small ball and ripped hastily at the edges. Squall took care to unfold the paper without tearing it further. On the inside was a haphazardly scribbled note that read:
They know where you are.
Eat dinner then go to bed.
Squall crushed the paper again and threw it in the trash basket nearby. The note may have been vague, but it was still to be taken seriously. The code could easily be mistaken, but its intentions were written clearer than the note itself had been. The writing was sloppy enough to where he couldn't tell who wrote it, but it was a colleague without doubt. He tried to recall who was on business in Dollet during this time of the year, but the names he could remember did not seem familiar to him. There was the possibility of anyone from his Garden to have come to simply leave the note, too. Squall decided it best to just follow the note's guidance and leave as soon as his business here was done.
Stressful thoughts began forming in Squall's mind and the voice was hardly noticeable, but there nonetheless. Squall's best intentions at the moment were to take a quick shower, plan out his actions pertaining to the next day, and get some much-needed sleep.
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"So he knows now, what do suppose he'll do about it?"
The man across the table merely grimaced, the wrinkles under his eyes amplified by the dim pub lights. He reached into his dark jacket and pulled out two cigarettes and a lighter. He offered one to the man across from him and, after a refusal, put the cigarette down on the grimy table. He then pulled loose bangs out of his eyes and propped his cigarette loosely on his lips, lighting it soon after. He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then tilted his head back slightly and watched the smoke billow out with his exhale. "Dunno," he replied simply.
Both men were dressed darkly, one in a suit and the other in a long trench coat. The one with the suit had darker, more glossy skin. The other man had fair skin and a distinct scar running the full length of the side of his face. This man was taller and obviously wider, though hardly noticeable by his hunched position in the booth at which both men sat. The man with darker skin wasn't much shorter, but possessed a younger, more anxious face. The taller one held a disposition of brute arrogance, his lower lips protruding slightly with seeming dominance.
"That's what ya always say," sighed the larger man as he picked up the beer bottle before him and swirled the remaining liquid inside. "I have a hard time believin' you though."
The man with the cigarette grinned again, pulling another long breath of the smoke before letting it go. "That's the jest of it," his voice was throaty and low. "I don't care how he responds, as long as he gets his ass outta here. Then there's nothing to worry about."
"Suppose he disregards it."
"Nah, he's not so stupid as to take something like that lightly. Even if he questions it, he'll have to wonder after he leaves. It's too short of notice for anything else, I'd suspect."
"Are you positive the girl's coming here?" the man took a swallow of liquor.
"Mmhmm," nodded the thinner man, reaching into another pocket of his coat to retrieve a small cell phone. He punched a few buttons then held the receiver to his ear. A moment passed before the younger man could distinguish talking on the other line.
"Hello?" asked a burly voice.
The shorter man put his cigarette to the edge of his mouth, but responded before inhaling. "He's got the note."
"Good work," stated the other end.
There was a pause before either spoke. "Ward here wants to make sure the girl's coming," the man with the cigarette looked over to his companion with a devilish smirk.
"Of course she is! What does he take me for, some kind of pompous fool? Don't you think I'd know my own daughter?" the voice snared.
"Just makin' sure, that's all. Don't take no offense, yeah?"
"Don't sass me Mr. Seagul. I do not appreciate your attitude. I want you to just keep him away from the girl at all costs, do you hear me?"
"Mm," the man with the cigarette breathed with a slight chuckle.
"And I don't want to hear another question out of you until he's left the city!" The phone line cut off.
"Well that about sums it up," the shorter man took one more puff before twisting the ashy tip into the mahogany table.
"How long before she's here? In your opinion?" the other man finished his beer.
"That's not really the question. It's how long until this guy's gone."
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A/N: Thanks everyone for surviving with me for another chapter! It's been great fun and I'll be looking forward to the reviews. I'm open to all comments and I promise I'll try to get the next chapter out as quickly as I can. Thanks!