I've realized something while working on this with Tadpole. 1.) Never trust a blonde to work with you on thinking stuff. 2.) With so many games and characters, it's very hard to remember who belongs to who, what they do, if their plot intent is finished, and so on and so forth. Therefore, because some of my chapter and character outlines contain about ten words at the max, if I make a mistake, please point it out.
With that said, on with the story. By the way, no offense to blonde people...
Sinner's Descent
Chapter Fourteen-Clones And Chaos
"It is agreed then, Haschel?" Cid said, plopping the stack of papers on his desk. They were the files for the two candidates T.G. had chosen to come with him to Mythril Cave, excluding the red beast.
Haschel read the names silently, lifting his eyes to meet with T.G.'s before offering the old man a smile. "Excellent. I knew I could count on you, Cid," Haschel said, neatly arranging the folders before filing them in his desk drawer.
Cid chuckled merrily, taking a seat across from Haschel. "The first is a rather gifted swordsman. Not quite an expected selection, but they are well worth it. Second in command, only under you and myself," Cid added. Haschel did not miss the hint of pride in his companion's voice.
"I'm assuming you've trained this young man yourself, then?" Haschel asked, leaning forward on his elbows. He was glad that Cid had decided to stay for a small chat. He needed the distraction from his paperwork.
"Woman," Cid corrected him, causing Haschel's eyes to widen. Cid laughed heartily, stroking his silver beard. "Surprised, aren't we? I know, I did not mean to bring her, but I wish for safety on this trip. I am not as young as I used to be," Cid said, patting his slightly portly stomach with a good-natured grin.
Haschel laughed, erupting into a fit of coughs mid-way between a chuckle. Cid gave him a concerned look, but he brushed it off, shaking his head as he spit a wad of mucus into a paper towel.
"Fine, Cid, just fine. It's this damn flu that's been going around," Haschel said breezily, tossing the soiled napkin into the waste basket. "And I still say that you could take any man in this city," he added, giving Cid a smirk.
"Insult taken, old man, insult taken," Cid said, sighing heavily as he heaved himself from his seat. "Well, I planned to stay longer, Haschel, old boy, but now that I think about it, I should probably inform Meliadoul and the other that they are going," Cid added, grinning in a wolfish manner before starting toward the door.
"Just like you not to tell them, old man," Haschel said lightly, shaking his head as he adjusted his glasses on his face. "I have the meeting with Strife later this afternoon. I will inform you later as to when he wishes to depart," Haschel added, giving Cid a slight nod before the man disappeared from the room with a cocky smile.
Haschel watched the door with growing impatience before checking his watch once again. Strife was late.
He hooked an ankle over his knee and sighed, shaking his head as he rested his arm against the comfortable sofa. The small office building was a side department for storing paperwork and such for Gijitsu.
Haschel felt himself grimace at the thought of paperwork. Since the war with Northside and Devil's had started, another unexpected turn from the both of the Alliances, it seemed he had done nothing but paperwork.
The door swung open, and Haschel looked up sharply, his face lighting up at the sight of Strife slouching through the door.
"Strife, you dog! It's been four months!" Haschel said warmly, pumping his hand heartily. Strife managed a genuine smile, shaking his head as a small laugh escaped him.
"It's good to see a friendly face," Strife said, sinking down into a chair with a tired sigh.
"You don't sound too well," Haschel said, concern tinted in his voice. Strife shook his head once again, letting his forehead fall into his hand.
"Don't worry about me, Haschel. Let's get this done and over with. Ever since that damn war with Devil's and Northside I've got nothin' but a mountain of fuckin' paperwork," Strife said, his voice sounding ragged and wore out.
Haschel raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I know. I've already emptied my filing cabinet three times," he added, extracting a pen and pad of paper from his briefcase.
"I'm bringing Barret and Kongol, along with myself," Strife said, getting straight to business. Haschel studied him thoughtfully. Strife took notice, and he gave Haschel a raggedy laugh. "I know what you're thinkin', but they were the only two from my trusted ring of members, and they won't disappoint," he added, nodding his head confidently.
Haschel shrugged, leaving the statement unanswered as he scribbled their names down. "Cid and I have decided on my Advisor, Nanaki, and two others. Meliadoul and Frog," Haschel added, adding the names to the list. "With Cid, that will be a total of seven. Anything else I should add?" Haschel asked, his pen pausing over the paper.
"Time isn't a risky factor yet," Strife said absently, gazing at the floor, his eyes fogging with uncertainty. "However, we can't wait too long," he added, blinking and shaking his head slightly. He ignored Haschel's suspicious look as he pondered the time.
"A month?" Haschel offered carefully. Strife blinked a few more times before nodding.
"Yeah, a month should about do it. We gotta make preparations and whatnot. So, that should be good," Strife added, nodding his head, as if assuring himself.
"If you say," Haschel muttered, narrowing his eyes before settling back in the sofa. "What's causing you to worry so much? Is there any information you're withholding from me?" Haschel asked, though his tone lacked the proper accusation.
"There's nothing wrong with me, damnit," Strife snapped, standing up abruptly. "I'll be in contact in a few weeks, Haschel," he added curtly, slamming the door shut as he stomped out of the room.
Haschel stared after him for a moment, taking the time to regain his composure. He didn't know if he should be worried or not about Strife's behavior, but something nagged at the back of his brain.
Something told him that this small Mako trip was going to be more trouble than he had perceived.
"So, it was that bad, huh?"
Garnet leaned against the wooden bench her best friend was currently situated on, her eyes occasionally following a few suspicious passing people. After the run-in with Devil's a while back, she was constantly on her gaurd.
"Yeah, he was close to losing it," Yuna replied absently, seemingly in a daze as a heavy sigh escaped her lips. Garnet saw her wince, and she frowned, biting her lip with worry.
"You sure you okay, Yuna?" she asked, scooting around the bench and taking a seat next to the other young woman. "You don't sound too good," she added, reaching out tentatively to touch Yuna's shoulder.
Yuna gave her a faint smile, inclining her head slightly. "I'm fine, Garnet. After all, it was just work, right?" she asked, phrasing the sentence more as a question rather than a statement. Garnet's frown deepened when Yuna turned to stare at her with hopeful eyes.
"I don't think so, Yuna. You talked about him quite a lot. Even Lulu noticed," Garnet added gently, inwardly cringing when Yuna's eyes started to water. She opened her mouth to console the other woman, but a brash voice cut her off.
"Well, well, well, if it ain't you." The voice was distinctly familiar, and Garnet turned to face the speaker.
"You!" she gasped, jaw dropping at the sight of the familiar blue mop of hair. Serge's eyes, however, were focused on Yuna, and his face was filled with anger.
"Couldn't wait to run off and tell your friends how humiliated Tidus was, huh? Sniveling, conniving-"
"Shut up!" Garnet bellowed, hopping to her feet and snatching Serge's arm to swing him around to face her. She knew it was relatively dangerous, seeing how Serge was probably armed, but she also had to consider Yuna's great sensitivity to the matter at hand.
"What are you doing here?" Serge sneered, his eyes narrowing as he glowered at Garnet, angered by the interruption.
"I believe I could ask you the same question," Garnet snapped back, eyes just as fierce as she matched his glare.
"I was just walking by," he replied with a snort, eyes moving to Yuna. "Ain't you in Underground? Better watch your back, little girl, this one likes to squeal," Serge added nastily, nodding his head at Yuna. Garnet nearly winced at the sound of Yuna's sharp intake of breath.
She felt her temper flare even hotter as she narrowed her eyes to slits. "I suggest you move along," she said coldly, taking a deep breath to keep her composure.
Serge scoffed, shaking his head before shoving past her and striding by Yuna. He kept his gaze straight, but Garnet could still see the hatred in his eyes.
"Yuna?" Garnet said quietly, following Serge with her eyes when her friend remained deathly silent.
"It's fine, Garnet. Just fine. I think I'm going to go home, now," Yuna said softly, rising to her feet and offering Garnet a small, tight smile before disappearing in the crowd.
Garnet sighed, closing her eyes and running a hand absently through her hair. Damn that man and his blue hair.
"Seifer, are you sure you're okay, man?" Gippal asked, offering the man another ice pack. Seifer nodded silently, slapping the packet of ice on the back of his head with a wince.
"Fine, Gip, fine. I can't believe them mother fuckers, though," he added bitterly, running his tongue over his lip, which tasted faintly of blood still. Damn, Gippal had really hit him hard.
"Yeah, it's been goin' on for quite some time," Gippal added, sinking down into the chair beside Seifer. "You don't remember anything?" he continued, helping Seifer switch the ice pack over. Seifer shook his head with a sigh.
"No, not really. I remember that bastard talking to me, tellin' me to do all kinds of stupid shit," he said wearily, reaching up to massage his aching neck. "How fucking hard did you hit me?" he griped, flinching as he hit a sore spot.
Gippal snorted, throwing him an offensive look. "You were tryin' to choke me, damnit. You didn't think I was just gonna tap you, did you? Jeez, you were under that damn thing too long. You say it started when you went to that meeting with Devil's?" he asked, dodging Seifer's fist.
"Yeah, I think. I remember bitching about Ansem not bein' there, then that creepy witch woman came in, and then that foreign guy started talkin' 'bout some type of deal-hey! That reminds me! You know, Ansem was shitting with us the whole time? They said he was in league with the fuckin' mercenary!" Seifer said, jumping to his feet in his fit of temper.
Gippal gave him a penseive frown. "Really? Far as I know, Devil's is still hunting the mercenary. So is Strife and Haschel, but the bastard's disappeared. We can't find him anywhere, and we don't think he fled the city," Gippal added, causing Seifer's face to distort.
"So all this shit was for nothin'?" he asked incredulously. Gippal barked out a laugh, slapping his thighs loudly.
"What the hell did you expect? Get some hero notion for it?" he joked, noticing the serious look on Seifer's face for the first time. "You're fucking crazy, Seifer! Those bastards could have gotten you killed!" Gippal exclaimed, a disbelieving look on his face.
Seifer shook his head, taking the ice pack off of his head. He felt around, feeling damp clumps of hair tangled around the large knot forming on his scalp.
"I know. Just pissed it didn't amount to nothing," Seifer added with a shrug, trying to seem nonchalant. It must have been believable, because Gippal immediately launched into the details of what had happened while Seifer had been out.
"What do you think we should do?" Gippal asked after a pause.
Seifer sighed, toying idly with the ice pack. He lifted his head suddenly, eyes narrowing in thought.
"What if we try to work something out with Strife? Shouldn't that help matters some?" Seifer asked, looking to Gippal to help.
Gippal's face had evident distaste on it, but he gave Seifer a grudging sigh. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt any. They would help some with the war with Devil's and everything. What made you think of that?" Gippal asked suddenly, peering intently at Seifer's face.
The other man shrugged, brows furrowing. "I dunno. Sorta just came to me. So, how do we do this with Strife? And what about Gijitsu? Cid is one hell of a killer to be that old. I wouldn't doubt if he'd come after us, too," Seifer added, sighing heavily as he hefted the ice pack from one hand to the other.
"I dunno. Maybe we should just stick with Strife for the moment. I don't wanna push it, seeing how you did make the mercenary go after both of them," Gippal added, giving Seifer a meaningful look. Seifer nodded mutely, standing with some effort.
"All right, then. How 'bout the rest of the Alliance? They still holding together?" Seifer asked absently, his mind wandering from the treaty with Strife for a moment.
"Yeah, they more or less figured you were just goin' crazy, but now that you're back, it'll die down," Gippal added, standing as well. He followed Seifer to the door.
"It better," Seifer muttered, swinging the door open. He immediately spotted his secretary, Yuffie, bending over a keyboard, a pair of reading glasses perched on her nose. "Yo, woman!" he called, a grinforming on his face.
Gippal rolled his eyes. At least he knew the real Seifer was back.
He crept silently through the building, making sure to keep in the shadows as he felt along the wall to guide him. Squinting ever so slightly, he strained his neck forward.
He could barely see the flicker of a light under the closed door, but it was enough. He knew that his target stayed late on Friday's, sometimes slept in the office, so it was not his presence that proved to be the problem.
Obtaining what he needed would cause some complications.
He crept forward a few more steps, mere feet from the door. Reaching a hand out, he noted with satisfaction that he was not trembling. He had done this many times before, and his experience had payed off.
As soon as his hand was ready to close around the door knob, it turned, and the door opened a few inches.
He had only seconds to react, but his brain snapped to attention, and with a flick of his shoulder his arm shot out once more, his fingers closing around the throat of his victim.
"What in the-"
Kuja shoved the man back viciously, enjoying the sickening crack his leg made as it twisted underneath him. Stomping forward, he pressed his knee into the man's stomach, pinned his arms down, and then leaned forward, exposing his face.
"Ansem."
"You! You son of a bitch!" Ansem spat, his face glowing with fury as he struggled against Kuja. "Get the fuck off of me, you scum!" Ansem bellowed, fighting even harder.
Kuja, however, kept his hold tight, pressing his knee even further into Ansem's stomach. "The Heartless," Kuja said, keeping his voice calm and low.
Ansem's struggles stopped, and his eyes narrowed, his arms slowly going limp against Kuja's grasp.
"The Heartless," Kuja repeated, making his meaning more clear with a sharp squeeze on Ansem's windpipe. "You will tell me of them," he said, squeezing even tighter. Ansem's face was turning a sickly shade of blue, but he did not relent.
"I'll tell you about the Heartless!" Ansem gasped, sputtering lightly when Kuja released his jugular momentarily.
"Your samples. You mentioned that you had abandoned them. Tell me, where are they?" Kuja asked, leaning down further with his knee.
"Samples?" Ansem asked, feigning ignorance. Kuja let out something close to a snarl, his face hardening.
"Fool! Don't toil with me! You mentioned that you had samples you abandoned. Now tell me where they are," he said, drawing in some of his temper. Ansem was shaking beneath him, his face flushed with fear, and the slight lack of oxygen.
"Fine!" he gasped, gritting his teeth. "Northern Continent. I left them there," he said, his voice cold and toneless. "I'm not sure if they remained intact when the Heartless attacked, but that's where I left them," he added grimly, staring up at Kuja.
"They are creatures of darkness, are they not?" Kuja asked, narrowing his eyes when Ansem nodded. "Then how do you defeat them?" he continued, raising an eyebrow.
Ansem hesitated for a moment, until Kuja applied pressure. "I don't know," Ansem finally admitted. "It is why I abandoned my search. They became too powerful to control," he added quickly, seeing the angry look on Kuja's face.
"You have proved yourself useful, Ansem," Kuja said, slipping his knee off of the man's gut and standing swiftly. Ansem scrambled back toward his desk, using it as leverage to drag himself to his feet.
"What are you going to do now?" Ansem asked, eyes narrowing as he studied Kuja from across the office.
"You did not lie, so I will let you live," Kuja said lightly, watching with amusement as relief washed over his face. The amusement turned into a sinister smile as he withdrew a small dagger, the same used to kill Ultimecia, from his shirt.
Moving forward in one quick, fluid motion, he plunged the dagger into Ansem's chest, watching the golden eyes go wide with shock and disbelief.
"You said I could live," Ansem burbled, a trickle of blood making it's way slowly down his chin.
Kuja twisted the blade painfully, ignoring the crimson liquid that spilled over onto his fingers. "I lied," he said simply, wrenching the dagger from Ansem's gut. He dropped to the floor in an uncerimonious heap, landing slightly on Kuja's shoes.
Wiping his hand on Ansem's shirt, he slid the blade back into it's place, turning quietly and exiting the room.
Ansem burbled one last time before his head slumped to the floor.
Maleficent's stride was quick and hurried as she passed along curious employees gathered about Ansem's door. She had heard rumors spreading from the bottom floor upon her arrival, but she simply needed to witness this for herself.
A grim smile formed on her lips as she stopped at the open door to his office.
Ansem's body was slumped over in a half seated position, his head resting face-first uncomfortably on the floor. His fists were clenched tightly, and Maleficent could tell his attacker had gone after his throat, due to the discolored bruising along his neck.
Blinking a few times as the stench of blood and rotting flesh filled her nostrils, she moved forward, shoving a few bold secretaries out of the way with a menacing glower.
She shoved him lightly with her staff. His body slumped sideways, and Maleficent was given a full view of his blood-soaked front, the hole of a blade clearly evident.
It seemed Kuja had struck again.
I've come to the conclusion that I like killing people. A lot. Except for Cloud. I'm a Cloud Groupie(and proud)so I would never kill him. Maybe. If I did, it would be a nice, peaceful, shot to the head. Aren't I so kind?