Author's Notes: Yay, a third chapter! I've reformatted the story slightly to make it flow a little better. You might be wondering what's up with all the differing sections that seem unconnected…well, I'm still in the setup stages and I want to work a little on everyone's background before the story really gets rolling. Nonetheless, I hope you like what you see; we revisit Relm in this chapter…for those of you dying to see Relm. Thanks for reading.

Chapter Three

Suspicious Strangers Under Sporadic Skies

Part I: Setzer, the High Flying Gambler
Part II: Relm's Spot

Part I - Setzer, the High Flying Gambler

Thin strands of dead, silvery hair flew freely off the gambler's head as the winds made haste over where he was standing, one of many high towers of Figaro's castle. His hair was a nuisance, long and crumpled like an old South Figarian Tribune. Every time he ran his hands through it, it felt like shredding paper. It used to be such a beautiful blonde color. One would be crazy to wage such a thing, but then again, no one's quite like Setzer Gabbiani.

Setzer had been a young entrepreneur back during the glory days of the Empire, working his way to wealth in the capital city of Vector. His shady dealings and natural pinpoint accurate accounting skills quickly spread among the community and he became known as The Gabbiani. Quickly obtaining social status, he hired protection and built a house in Vector on one of the cities' various platforms. Yet, even with the guards close by and structural safety, his life became more and more dangerous. He slept with one eye open at all times for anyone who wanted to take his fortune or his personal belongings. Naturally, it wasn't much longer before Setzer began to teach himself self-defense. He designed, and copyrighted, a razor-sharp card-like weapon.

It wasn't long before the entire underbelly of Vector was run by Setzer himself. He was cold and ruthless, forcing non-paying clients out of their shops and homes. He was only twenty years of age at that time, sitting atop mounds of selfishness and pride. At first, the wealthy mobster was number one on the Empire's enemy list. The emperor was furious when he found that his people were secretly under the bondage of someone referred to as The Gabbiani, however finding Setzer was no easy task. Setzer had many men working for him, many men to cover his tracks. Then, unexpectedly, the Empire changed their opinion and offered more power to the young, blonde-headed man. The more power he had the more he'd get. The only problem was…the more power he got, the more confined he became. Setzer was a free spirit and felt trapped in the little kingdom he had manifested.

Setzer slouched over, placing his arms on the warm stone and stared out across the bleached-yellow sands of the Figarian desert. He sighed as he recalled memories of fifteen years ago.

"Mr. Gabbiani," a tall, suited man stated, walking beside the famed Setzer Gabbiani. "The Empire has declared you the rights to several thousands in bonds and the Merciiary clan has finally submitted to your allegiance. "

"Good!" Setzer exclaimed, clasping his hands together. "That makes 100 control of Vector's citizens. I knew they'd take Wesson's fields."

"It was quite a gamble, sir."

"Yes, every day's a gamble."

Setzer climbed into a chocobo-driven carriage as the other man stopped at the door. These carriages were used by the wealthy to avoid walking from one sector of the city to the next. They were extremely comfortable, sporting cushioned wall-chairs and an overhead three-prong oil lamp.

"You'll be meeting Jared Owens at the Behemoth Bazaar," the suited man explained. "He's expecting return from his generous donations, something about his own business going under. Afterwards, you are to attend the royal art showing at Rizgard sector. There's supposed to be some big names there."

Setzer nodded as the suited man shut the door and told the driver where to go. The carriage took off and Setzer slunk back in the chair, sighing annoyingly. Yes, he had everything, all of Vector in his hands, but he wanted more. He wanted the world, every blade of grass and the blue sky, but he was stuck in Vector. It wasn't even safe to walk out of his home unless escorted.

Suddenly, the cart stopped simultaneously followed by chocobos squeaking and squawking. Setzer mechanically reached into his coat pocket, his fingers gripping onto a card that threatened to cut his skin. Beyond the squealing of the chocobos and the driver frantically shouting, Setzer heard a woman's voice, a most noticeable voice that brought a smile to his face.

"Shoe! Get away!" the driver demanded. "You are not welcome, beggar!"

"Beggar? Do I look like a beggar to you? I have the right mind to snap you into two!" the woman angrily replied, waving frantically in front of the frightened chocobos.

"Leave them alone! Enough of this nonsense!"

"It's okay…," Setzer announced, peaking his head outside the carriage. "She can come in."

"Sir?"

"It's okay."

The woman quickly ran around the side and jumped into the carriage, sticking the tip of her tongue at the driver's general direction.

"'Bout time you invited me in," she said, smiling brazenly. "What took you so long?"

Setzer shook his head heartily. "Daryl, it's good to see you again."

"Likewise, I see you still have your head stuck up your -"

"Daryl, please, don't you realize my situation? Why, I'm heading to meet your father right now."

"Father? Pssh. That penny-pushing money-grabber? Forget him!"

"Mind you he's the one paying for that 'airship' project of yours," Setzer scoffed.

"No he's not. Grandpa's the generous one. Ole-daddy's just living off his earnings. Now that Grandpa's passed away and written the money off to charity, father is searching for a resolve. You give him a dime and I'll never talk to you again, that's a promise," she ranted.

"Okay, okay. Settle down. I can't just cancel my meeting with 'im."

She smiled, placing her hands on his knees. "Sure ya can. Come on, Setzer…come fly with me."

"You devilish little temptress," he replied, smirking.

She fell back, hugging herself as if the airship was in her hands. "It's amazing, honestly. I've never felt anything like it."

"Just how many times have you actually flown the thing?"

"What? You don't trust me?"

"Not a bit."

She rolled her eyes. "Bleh. Whatever. I've gone up twice. Both times were as smooth as lemon pie."

"Maybe some other time, my lady."

"How 'bout now!" she commanded rather than asking. "I thought you were a gambling man? Come on, it'll be fun."

Both his weakness and strength, and she knew it. He let out a small laugh to delay his answer. It would be fun to escape Vector for a while and see the world from a bird's eye view. Of course, he had to meet with her father and he had an art gallery to go to. 'Many big faces there' he thought to himself. If he didn't keep one foot in front of the other he'd fall behind and watch as other greedy scoundrels trampled over him to take his glory. He had to maintain his position. It was his duty. It was his responsibility. It was his box.

"And look at me now," he said aloud, the words disappearing off the curved corners of the tower. "A legendary."

He couldn't help from laughing. He had been the underdog of the underdog, the scoundrel himself, but now he was critically acclaimed as one of the members to take down the mighty Kefka. 'Quite a twist of fate, eh?' he thought. But it really wasn't that unexpected. Everything has a logical explanation, a cause and reaction. A gambler knows this. His cause was her, Daryl and the reaction was this, the present.

"Guess it was a good gamble."

Then a small cargo ship flew over the castle, Setzer's eyes moving with it. Behind him, a man walked up the stairs that led into the tower. The man wore a blue cape, its necking wrapping up to his ears and it had sleeves for his arms. He wore it over his sturdy, green-tinted armor that shined brilliantly against the Figarian sun. Straps were everywhere to tighten armor, hold items and sheath weapons. The magnificent Illumina was one such weapon. He walked right next to Setzer, who was still lost in his own thoughts.

"Setzer," he greeted himself, bringing the gambler back to reality.

Setzer turned slightly and smiled at the presence of his good friend, the one whose special coin tricked him into following him to the ends of the planet. "King Edgar."

Edgar laughed, letting his weight fall on the stone as he brushed strands of golden hair back into his royally tied green bow to fight the high winds. "Drop the formalities, Setzer."

Another ship lifted from behind the horizon and disappeared over the tall mountains in the distance.

"It's a different world my friend, thanks to you," Edgar complimented.

"Tsk. Where would the fleet be without the royal Figarian funding?"

After the Day of Sovereignty, Edgar and Setzer joined forces, Edgar with the resources and Setzer with the knowledge, and they created the Figarian Air Fleet. The monopoly served as military control of the skies, communal transportation and business-related shipping. Setzer respectively took head of the Air Fleet command and continued to fly very often in the ship that his old love made, the "Falcon".

After a few moments of staring out across his desert, Edgar let out a long sigh. "You know…her birthday's in a week."

"I know," Setzer complied.

"Strago's wanting another gathering. Everybody's invited of course."

Setzer turned and leaned back into the stone, looking the opposite direction as before. "Of course. Hope things don't happen like last time."

"According to Strago, she's not quite the same anymore. Funny…she can stand her full four and half feet against Kefka and cowers at a weakling of a Chimera."

"It's not that, it's her power she's afraid of."

Edgar let out a half-laugh. "That's a very profound statement, not what I'd expect from you."

"Heh. Young people with power often have no idea what they actually bestow," Setzer interpreted.

"Alright. It's official. I don't want you talking to the chancellor anymore," Edgar decided, playfully slapping Setzer on the back. "Anyway, think the Falcon'll be ready soon? We're gonna have to pick up the rest like the last time."

"Of course she'll be ready! What was that, a rhetorical question?"

"It was," Edgar said, laughing heartily.

"And so was that," Setzer added, joining in on the laughter.

After a few moments of them senselessly laughing above the busying Figarians below, Edgar stood up, brushing some of the sand that had blown onto his cape off. "Well, now that I'm thoroughly confused, I should get back to Terra and began our preparations."

"I thought you said her birthday was in a week?" Setzer asked.

"I did. Hey, what do you expect with a town full of children at your doorstep?" Edgar answered, hastily heading back towards the stairs, leaving Setzer back with his thoughts.

Setzer's cheerful face turned solemn as he looked back at the sky. "Dear Daryl, I miss you so…"

Part II: Relm's Spot

It was raining just off the north coast of Thamasa and slightly south of the emerged Serpent Trench. There were a few fishermen out doing there normal rounds, struggling in the wake of the weather. Sometimes the ocean storm cracked thunder, lightening splintering in the orange sky above. In the distance, the rain looked like a wall of mist, reaching up from the purpley-sea below. From her spot, Relm would have an extravagant picture to paint.

Thus, she hurried over the hills, utensils in hand. She saw a slimmer of lightening slip its way between the clouds, thunder rolling behind. 'Oh, that was a good one!' she thought. Her spot was at the bottom of this hill, but when she looked down, she saw someone sitting in her special spot. She stopped, her face wrinkling in aggravation.

The man sat with his back to her, legs lapped as if he were some sage. He had thick coils of dirty blonde hair dropping down to his shoulder blades. He seemed to be only wearing a pair of shorts that looked liked they were cut out of a rice bag, tied on with a rope. He was tan almost to the point of appearing burnt.

Relm stormed down to the man, thinking of what she was going to say. Unfortunately, by the time she got down to him, she had thought of nothing nice or unrude to say.

"Uh, you are in my spot."

The man sat motionlessly. "It's mine now."

She swallowed her next breath, fearing it'd be fire. Her face turned hot red and she slapped her hips as if it did some good. 'Who did he think he was?' she thought. "Do you know who I am?"

"Do you think I care?" he replied calmly.

"Ho, ho. I think you should!" she retorted.

"Girl, you are annoying me," he said, no sign of annoyance in his words.

"Annoying you? Annoying you! You little twit! Get out of my spot!"

"No."

"Fine!"

She sat next to him, practically on top of him, scooting him over with her hips, wiggling into place. He just looked at her, perplexed. She put down her stuff and started painting what appeared to be strokes of fury. He scratched the back of his head and laughed.

"I don't really like your style," he said.

Her eyes widened, turning to meet him face to face, fury in the eyebrows that squished her forehead. "Aaaand I don't really like you!"

And she turned back and continued, him eventually looking back at the storm, sighing a sigh of giving-up. And so they sat there, hip to hip on the little spot they each claimed their own amongst the plains of Eboshi. This man was no Lloyn, that's for sure. 'Starlet he was beautiful,' she thought to herself, referring to the Doman who had graced her with his presence only a week ago.

She couldn't stop thinking about the Freedom Rider and his white chocobo. Absolutely gorgeous, he was. She had only talked to him for a moment, but his impression was so gentlemanly and respectful. It was a shame that he found out who she was. She had asked Strago a hundred times why he had met with him, but the stubborn old man wouldn't reply, as she expected he wouldn't. Still, she'd bug the old man until he answered her.

Her strokes were a little less furious, her mind elsewhere. She painted the crisp lightening into the orange sky and blended the colors together. The man sitting next to her had noticed.

"I guess you are not that bad," he said, slight bit of sarcasm in the back of his throat.

"Hmpf," was all he got in return.

Sighing, the man moved away from her, sitting a few feet away.

"Thank you," she said coldly at the man who attempted to take her spot.

"Whatever."

The storm slowly headed for them, but it turned to a light drizzle, the activity in it dying down. Fortunately, Relm had drawn everything she desired, satisfaction coming from a sigh. She started to get up. Her normal long day at her spot had been cut in half by the weather and the suspicious stranger.

"I didn't even get your name, girl," the man said, noticing she was leaving.

"And you won't…boy," was her response.

He laughed, bringing her attention to his surprisingly white teeth. In fact, she noticed that he was a decently attractive man. His eyes were so green and he sported a nice six-pack, muscles ripping down his arms and legs. His skin was brown and looked dirty as if he had been sleeping in cave the past few days, weeks, maybe even months or years. She shook her head, realizing that she was spending way too much time adoring this man that she utterly despised.

"What?" He noticed her shaking her head.

"Nothing."

"Whatever."

The clouds were overhead now and it started to sprinkle where they were.

"Enjoy the rain, meanie!"

He rolled his eyes. "Not a very nice legendary are you."

She started walking away, the drops hitting her bandana, when she realized what he just said. "Legendary?"

He didn't move, it almost appeared that he was laughing. Why didn't she see it before? He knew she was going to be here. He knew who she was. He had to be a Hunter! Suddenly, she was overcome with fear. How could she be so careless? She slowly reached for her knife that was strapped to her upper thigh.

He was motionless once again. "That won't be necessary, Relm."

"Who…are…you?"

He turned slightly so she could see the evil-appearing grin on his face. "I'm not a friend of yours, that's for sure."

She pulled out the knife and slowly walked behind him. He turned to face the drizzle that was picking up, drops sticking to his large strands of hair. She brought the knife back and propelled it forward, but she was met with a hand to hers and another hand clasping over her mouth as she was whirled around, her back to his chest.

"Don't scream, girl," he said, cool as ever.

She bit as hard as she could into his hand, squirming against his incredible strength.

He moaned in pain, bringing her hand with the knife up to her neck. "Don't bite either, please!"

The sprinkling turned to rain, drenching the two, as it got darker and darker.

"Listen," he began, "I'm not here to hurt you. I'm not a Hunter. Understand?"

She continued to squirm, but realized he was stronger than she had anticipated and nodded her head, fearing what the man would do to her. As soon as she nodded, she was thrown down to the ground, the knife rolling out of her hand into his.

"See? I told you this wouldn't be necessary," he said with a smile.

"I hope you get struck by lightening, you little imp!"

He nodded. "Me too."

He rolled the sword and twirled it in his hand, proving that he was handy with it. She had nothing, but her utensils…

"So, choc-ass, what are you here for, huh?" she asked.

He stared at the knife, standing tall as she laid on the ground. "What's it matter to you, bitch?"

"Dammit, you're frustrating me!"

"It's all about you, isn't it?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Maduin, you're striking when you're upset."

She stood up, acting as if she were going to fight him with her bare hands. "Well, then I'm 'bout to be the most beautiful thing you've ever seen!"

"Settle, girl, I'm just having a bit of fun. Take your knife and go home. You're getting soakin' wet."

He offered her the knife. Slowly, she took it, bringing it to her chest as if it'd protect her. Then, the man turned his back against her and sat down. She thought about trying to strike him again, but she didn't want to mess up like before. She didn't want to feel that helpless again. So she started walking away, confusion set on her face.

She turned around to ask one last question before she headed off to get out of the rain, the bandana soaked, her curly, yellowy hair looking muddy. "Alright choc-ass. You win, but what the hell is your name?"

He snorted. "I'm afraid you won't be getting it."

To the Reviewers: Thanks for all your reviews. I greatly appreciate your input and whatnot. If you have any questions you want to ask, then feel free to email me or post it in the reply. I will attempt to respond. Also, if you find any errors or mistakes, be kind and let me know so that I can cordially fix them. Thanks again, you all rock!