Chapter 5 – It All Goes to Hell

Behind Deling City Hall; 8:25 PM.

Kinneas tipped his hat forward a bit, glancing down the street briefly before he swiftly ducked back into the alley which provided him ample cover and concealment. His back perched against decaying brick, the sharpshooter wondered who the young blonde boy was. Judging from the Gunblade at his side, and his evident guarding of the building's back entrance, he was probably SeeD – or maybe a student on his first SeeD exam. Does he know I'm coming? Is that why that kid's there? No, no, you're jus' getting paranoid.. nn.

Kinneas glanced down, pulling his duster back to expose the bandages wrapped around his torso, dried blood staining a good portion of it. He'd healed up alright, but the wound still hurt like hell. Irvine knew he needed to reach Squall, but in his condition he wouldn't hold up in a fight, not even against a young buck like that. Part of him wondered if he should have waited until he'd fully recovered, but he knew this had to be done as quickly as possible.

Lady luck smiled down upon her favorite stud, because only seconds later he'd hear hurried footsteps erupting across the puddle riddled pavement, peeking around the corner and he noted that the blonde had left his post; evidently something about that van, or the building it was parked near, had drawn his attention. Time to move. As the young Gunblade wielder ran off, Irvine quickly and silently slipped into the building.

Amazingly, not much security was present in the hallway, though a few roaming guards proved a challenge, one he skillfully bypassed by timing their patrol routes, and darting past the men when a 5 second window of opportunity presented itself. Boot clad feet softly treaded across soft carpet, his body arched forward, careful every time he passed a window. He could feel himself getting closer to his objective, to Squall. Finally, a corner turned, and he was in view of not only Squall, but the little girl, the President, and two other youngsters. Cautiously, he reached into his coat, hand pressed against Exeter, ready to draw the weapon and take his shot.

Boom. A small explosion somewhere, where he'd just come from? It barely rocked the foundations, but certainly caught the attention of those near the Podium; namely, the two youngsters. Mathias was the first to look around, wondering what the mild vibration had been, that's when he spotted Kinneas. He recognized the man instantly as the sharpshooter who every now and then made visits to Balamb Garden, and so the man was greeted with a bit of a surprised grin. Kaira was the next to notice him, a concerned look on her face. Mathias stepped toward the man, Kinneas withdrew his hand from his coat, he wasn't going to hurt these kids to get to Squall.

"Mr. Kinneas? What are you – "

Mathias' inquiry came to a sudden halt, another vibration, this one rocked the very foundations to the point where anyone on their feet was either floored, or damn near thrown off their feet. Glass shattered, and Irvine found himself clinging to the wall for support. Now, what? Well, whatever that hell that was, it's your chance to get out of this bind. Irvine promptly vaulted over a ledge were a window once stood.

Squall had made his daughter his first priority, scooping her up in his arms, looking for a way out. It was clear a bomb had just been set off, but where and by who was the question. The crowd dispersed in panic, the President hid beneath his podium, glancing up to Squall.

"What the hell is going on, Leonheart? "

"It'll be taken care of – "

Squall turned sharply to face his students, fully expecting them to react. Once Kaira and Mathias got back up, the female would look to her cohort, completely unaware of what was going on. It was then that Barth's voice came in on their headsets.

"Guys, the back alley. Dietrich's in trouble, serious trouble! "

Both looked to Squall for direction, but the man offered none. An arched brow suggested that he had no intentions of holding their hands throughout this, this was still an exam. The President looked between the two youngsters and Leonheart, a mixture of anger and panic on his face.

"Will someone tell me what the hell is happening, and what you're going to do about it! "

"Kaira, "

Mathias spoke with remarkable calm, almost as if he didn't feel much urgency.

"Grab the President, make sure he makes it to the escape route; let Alpha take it from there. I'm going out back. "

Warehouse, 8 minutes ago.

"Oh, shi—"

Dietrich's words were cut short by the cocking of automatic weapons, 20 of them to be precise. Knowing full well that without a Protect spell handy, he'd only be able to deflect so many shots with Einz before a few hit, and ultimately left him riddled with mortal wounds. Time seemed to slow down in his head, enough that he found his only means of escape; an oxygen tank. Kicking the large, rusty cylindrical container over. A loud, metallic thud resounded, and as it rolled on its side in front of Dietrich, the youth took drastic, almost self-destructive measures. Einz hefted up over his head, he swung the heavy Gunblade down, piercing the rusty surface of the tank with Einz' razor sharp edge, oxygen escaped in tremendous amounts, and as it was only natural when releasing such compressed force, a concussive blast blew Dietrich back out the door and floored the men in the room.

Dietrich saw double as his body slid back across the wet pavement, his progression backward stopped only when his body collided into the side of the masked assailants van. He was dazed, confused, stunned, but his actions had bought him time and a world of hurt. Inside, the mysterious men all groaned, some scrambling to their feet. One spoke out as he clutched his head.

"G-gunter, they're going to be coming. We have to get rid of the evidence—you know what to do. "

Most of the men were unable to get up, including Gunter, who now laid across the floor with a small device in his hand. The man, in severe pain, nodded, keeping his thumb close to the detonator, waiting just a little to let as many men out of the building before he blew it, and the unfortunate few – such as himself – who were unable to rush out.

Three men stumbled outside, two of them holding their heads and struggling to train their weapons on Dietrich, who by now, was on his feet and charging at his approaching attackers. A deft horizontal slash, one that was labored though to the pain in his entire body, would slice across the first two gunmen's abdominal region. A fluid streak of crimson followed the Gunblade's path, like a plume of smoke trailing behind a jetfighter. The third man had narrowly evaded evisceration, something his two comrades succumbed to by falling backward, clutching their stomachs as precious fluid – and even organs – left them.

Dietrich panicked briefly, the third man had now raised his firearm, and let off a frantic, aimless 3 round burst. Accuracy wasn't all that important at that range, 2 of the three rounds pelted Dietrich, one square in the shoulder; another in his arm. Blood spattered across the fabric of his uniform, the force sent Dietrich stumbling backward, still clinging to his weapon with one hand. Opposite hand arose, visible strain on his face as he conjured sacred, arcane knowledge in the form of para-magic, a weak ignition of Fire would fly forward, tagging his attacker in the chest. Though it'd been a quick, desperate spell cast, the range made up for it, the man flew back, the flames searing into his chest. If he didn't die in a matter of minutes, he'd certainly be close to it; regardless, the man was out of the fight.

Much to Dietrich's dismay, the 5 or 6 men that began to run out frantically were not, and he quickly backpedaled in hopes of finding cover, it was then that he felt himself forced off his feet. A destructive explosion from within the building sent splinters of wood, glass and debris spraying everywhere, the men who'd just vacated the building found themselves on the floor again, the building which had served as their base of espionage now lit up as wild flames ravaged the building in its entirety.

"This is for Gunter, and our comrades you bastard! "

The gunmen were quick to recover, raising their weapons to blast the grounded Dietrich away – unbeknownst to them, backup had just arrived in the form of one Barth Bildroy. Maybe it'd been the explosion that had deafened their hearing, but for most it certainly would have been difficult not to hear the man as he charged down the street. Rather than attack the men directly, Barth made the van his target, both hands wrenched tightly about a lengthy steel pole, and once the man swung said pole across his form, the enormous chunk of steel at the end would be exposed. The end of Bildroy's hammer, Titan, was smacked into the side of the van.

A combination of the momentum he'd gathered during his mad dash, his sheer power, and the hammer's incredible weight forced the van off its tires, and up into the air about a foot. The vehicle would ultimately slam against the men violently, crushing them against it and the burning building behind them. Dietrich looked up, as pained as he was, he couldn't help but find himself awestruck by the display of power Barth had just made, a display that very well saved his life. His eyes shifted to his shoulder, the aching pain back on his face as he pressed a hand against both bullet wounds.

Mathias, who just now arrived on the scene, looked between the burning building, the van, and Bildroy with shock. His eyes darted over to Dietrich.

"You're wounded. C'mon, let's get out of here. "

"You shouldn't have left your post, pipsqueak. Wanna' get yourself killed playin' gung-ho? Not to mention someone could have waltzed in through the back! "

Normally, a scolding from Bildroy would have warranted a string of curses toward the man, but Dietrich just stared at the crushed, burnt bodies in front of him. They were all dead, some of them, namely the ones in the building, had blown themselves up, but one thing in particular struck him, their accents.

"..Dollet. "

Caraway Mansion

"Good job, Barth. I think you owe Barth your thanks for saving your life, Dietrich. "

Instructor Trepe visually scolded the boy, in a way she knew best; with her eyes. Not waiting for Dietrich, who had looked away in both shame and disgust, she'd glance to Mathias.

"As for Irvine Kinneas, I can't explain his presence, or why he'd have left like that. I haven't been able to get in contact with him for some time.. "

The entire group had amassed in the small office, Alpha Squad was still assuring the President's safety under the guidance of Xu, Zell meanwhile had opted to join Quistis and Squall, who was currently seated in the late General's chair, his daughter on his lap.

"Dietrich said those guys were from Dollet, so did they want to kill the President? "

Kaira's arms were crossed over her chest, it seemed the girl wanted to help redeem Dietrich's folly, leaving his post had ended disastrous. Though he had unfoiled some sort of espionage plot, he'd left a gaping hole in the President's rear security. It couldn't have gone worse, Bildroy seemed a shoe-in, and rightfully so after his display.

"No, I know exactly who is behind this. "

Squall finally spoke up, a grave look in the man's eyes. Gloved digits sifted through his daughter's hair, hoping to calm her nerves after what had occurred.

"Irvine. "

Though shock was evident on everyone's face, Zell was the first, as usual, to speak.

"What! Man, are you sure you didn't fall on your head or something … Irvine? Why would he want to kill the President? "

"The last time I saw him, he seemed really angry about Martine's position in office. Besides, he had no knowledge that I was here, so I doubt he was sneaking into the Mansion to 'pay a visit'. I wouldn't be surprised if those men were his, or associates. It may be a personal vendetta. Martine hurt a lot of people at Galbadia Garden during the war, people Irvine cared about, and now he's being hailed as a hero. I don't know what he thinks he's doing, but we have to be prepared to take him down if the President requests this. "

Mathias arched a brow, uncertain what Leonheart meant by all that.

"Wait, what are you saying? If the President requests? You're going to – "

"Yes, I'm making it my duty to inform the President of my suspicions. Hopefully he'll let me try and bring Irvine in alive, without hurting him, but if launches a manhunt himself, there isn't anything we can really do about it. "

Quistis shook her head, outrage and desperation hinted in her tone of voice, like Zell, she couldn't believe Squall was saying this.

"But he might kill him! This is Irvine, I don't believe he'd resort to assassination. "

"Why not? If he thinks Martine too dangerous to hold that sort of position, he'd be willing to do it. He certainly was, along with us, during the war, Quistis. "

"But.. "

"We just have to face it. I don't like it anymore than you, but the evidence is too great to ignore. Irvine may have just become the Most Wanted Man in the world. "

Presidential Palace

"Yes, I appreciate your honesty Mr. Leonheart. I understand, I assure you I won't make any drastic decisions until Kinneas' involvement is firmly proven. "

Hanging up the phone, Martine reclined back in his chair, dimming the lights in the entire office. Hands coupled together, he'd look to the desk.

"It was Irvine Kinneas, I always knew that boy was more charm than brains, and he's proven it just now. "

Amid the shadows, a voice spoke, the figure was barely visible in the darkness, broad shoulders, a red coat that adorned an impressive frame.

"Kinneas? Really, and Squall gave him up just like that? "

"He's a smart man, he knows if he hadn't, and we found out he suspected, we'd have Galbadia knocking on Garden's door. We're not a weak Military anymore, the world knows as much. However, I suspect there's more than just Kinneas involved here. He needed help, a third party that would have been more than willing to mar our appearance, make us look weak and susceptible to attack in front of the world. "

The mysterious man spoke, lifting a red glove to shadow enclosed features. He spoke, cold, as if he didn't suspect, but knew whom the third party was.

"Dollet. "

"Yes, my thoughts exactly. I'm sorry, this was supposed to be your night. Just as I was redeemed the night of my election night, I wanted this to be your night of redemption, General Almasy. "

He stepped out from the shadows, a red motif in his apparel as coat and gloves were of a crimson make, the trademark symbol printed across his back was a contrasting black, matching the pants and snug, muscle defining shirt. He still possessed a rich head of blonde hair, though features had hardened slightly, a stronger jaw line and gruff patches of facial hair.

"It's better this way, Mr. President. Now I can redeem myself to the Galbadians with two victories, executing Irvine Kinneas and striking back at Dollet. "