Chapter 5: Treachery
Squall laid his head back on the wall of the elevator, just above the dent he'd pounded in it. Illarra was asking him to do something even worse than bomb Balamb Garden. Assassinate the Headmaster? Cid Kramer, the man who had created Garden in the first place?
Squall had never been "close" friends with the Headmaster. Before he'd been named Commander, Cid had been his superior, the symbol of Balamb Garden and its effective commanding officer. Squall was simply another cadet or SeeD under his authority. Upon being elevated to Commander, Squall and Cid were effectively colleagues, something that had taken Squall some time to adjust to. In the last few years, Squall and Cid remained co-workers, though each had his distinct style of command; Cid was easygoing and casual, and Squall was efficient and more formal. The two remained comrades, though not friends, partially due to Squall's standoffish nature and their differences in style. Cid was out a lot as well, participating in the reconstruction of Trabia and surveying sites for the new Garden in Esthar.
Cid was a good man, and the center of Garden, its moral compass and the one who held its dream in his heart. If he died, Garden would feel the repercussions down to its very foundations . . . And if it was Balamb Garden's own Commander who did the assassination, the most celebrated hero in Garden's history . . . .
The bomb wouldn't be needed to destroy Garden. That explosive was just the final punctuation mark on what would happen if Garden's two senor officers ended up dead or vilified.
As the elevator rose, Squall considered his options. They were watching him, no question. Someone was keeping an eye on him in the command center, or someone had set up a means of observing him.
It had to be small, covert, unobtrusive. Likely multiple ones, if they were keeping track of him as he moved around the main operations room. But their reach was limited, he figured; they hadn't been able to watch him inside the MD Level, after all. If the cameras were small, or it was an observer, that had to mean that whoever it was had to be close, likely within FH at best.
Once he figured out how he was being observed, he might be able to track down the enemy, and when that happened . . . .
Squall's hand tightened around his gunblade's handle.
There would be a reckoning, no question.
They had run through the woods and snow for what felt like hours, their eyes constantly roving the forest, the screams and shouts of their white-clad enemies constantly in their ears.
"Where do they keep coming from?" Irvine muttered as he saw one of their attackers leaping over a log, stepping into their path. He fired a blast from his hip, a buckshot round blowing the man off his feet, and Victor paused to gut the prone enemy as they passed him.
None of the other SeeDs answered him as they dashed through the forest. A whirling axe flew past them, and another enemy lurched out of the trees, screaming an incoherent battle-cry as he swung a sword at Selphie's head. She ducked beneath the attack and replied instantly, a blast of flame hurling the white-robed foe into a small copse of trees. Victor had to whirl to knock aside a scythe one of the madmen was swinging, and stabbed the man in the throat before rushing on.
From what they could tell, the only thing that kept the trio alive at that point was their constant retreat. The enemy was everywhere, closing in all around them from a dozen directions at once. They ran with all their strength, yet somehow their foes simply kept appearing from the trees by the dozens, as if waiting for them in the darkness of the forest.
Irvine trudged through the snow, right behind Selphie and just ahead of Victor, who kept covering their rear. The two Trabians seemed to know where they were headed, to a degree; Selphie was leading the group determinedly through the woods, though Irvine honestly hoped she wasn't just running them in circles.
A white-clad madman loomed up ahead suddenly, screaming and waving an axe in the air. Selphie ducked and spun out to the side, giving Irvine the moment he needed to level his rifle at his opponent. The man took a shotgun blast to the gut and fell back, but managed to right himself long enough to hurl the axe at Irvine. The sharpshooter sidestepped quickly, out of the path of the axe, and fired again, this time pulverizing the man's chest and throwing him to the snow.
"Go, go!" Irvine quickly shouted, and turned back to Victor. He froze when he saw the Trabian SeeD clutching his right thigh, which apparently had squarely caught the flying axe. He wrenched the blade free, blood gushing out over his leg, and Irvine had to fire a shot past him to eliminate a spear-wielding foe rushing at his back. Selphie ran past him and grabbed Victor's hand, pulling the wounded SeeD along, who quickly started to limp after the others as fast as he could, his face locked in pain as blood streamed down his leg.
Every step Squall took off the elevator felt as if his boots were filled with cast iron. He walked forward slowly, deliberately, not thinking of anything but advancing. Mercifully, Illarra remained silent in his ear, not speaking, otherwise he might have done something rash, like stop and tear the earpiece out, and damn Ellone to pain and torture.
The doors were opened by the courteous SeeD guard, and Squall nodded only out of reflex to the well-meant "Welcome back, sir" the man gave him. He moved into the main operations room, and paused, looking over his people as they worked hard to handle the information coming in. Things seemed to have changed since h e was last in there; the noise level had quadrupled, and everyone was moving around frantically.
Had they figured things out? Did they know what was going on? Part of Squall wished they didn't, so that he could protect Ellone, and part of him hoped they had, and knew what was happening to him. He even momentarily entertained the notion of SeeD teams rushing to rescue his sister, but threw the idea aside. It was just a fantasy, and nothing could prevent him from what he was being forced to do at that moment.
"Squall," Xu said suddenly, moving through the forest of desks and scrambling SeeDs, directly toward Squall. "Squall, we just received word from Mike Devine, the pilot who was ferrying our teams to their missions a few hours ago."
"What?" he asked, distractedly.
"He confirmed that there was an attack on the train that President Loire was using," Xu explained, and Squall paused, looking to her.
"Survivors?"
"None that Mike could find," Xu replied grimly. "He couldn't be sure, because the train cars were blown apart. Mike says he did receive a distress signal from one of the airships escorting the President, but it was cut off. He's investigating now. Esthar's sent troops to investigate as well, and they've also confirmed the destruction of the train."
Squall didn't answer, but he knew this was merely further confirmation. Zell and Laguna were dead, and Ellone was their hostage. He looked away, clenching his fist, and setting his jaw.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "Zell was a good SeeD, and the President was-"
"I know," Squall responded. "Ell . . . ." he trailed off, not wanting to speak her name, and closed his eyes. "She was supposed to be on the train, too."
"Ellone?" Xu asked, and Squall nodded.
"I . . . I'm sorry," she said,a nd Squall looked up,s haking his head.
No time," he said quickly. "I'll need to speak with the Headmaster. He's in his office, isn't he?"
"Yes, he is," Xu replied with a nod. Squall left her without another word, moving quickly toward Cid's office, and rapidly up the steps to where the Headmaster had based his office, right across from Squall's own. He quickly opened the door, and stepped in.
"Yes, Kayte," Cid was saying on the phone. He looked up and saw Squall. "Get those reports as soon as possible. Thank you." He quickly hung up the phone, and nodded toward Squall. "You've heard the news."
Squall nodded. The Headmaster looked much like he always had, a portly man with thick brown hair, wrinkled, smiling features, and a collection of stubborn stubble on his chin. Large glasses sat on his prominent nose. His features were a bit more wrinkled, and some gray hairs were working their way into his hair, but he still seemed spry, though obviously gravely concerned about the recent events.
"Xu briefed me," Squall said stiffly. He glanced to the windows overlooking the room, and then back to Cid. "Can we have some privacy?"
"Of course," Cid replied, and tapped a button on his desk. Blinds along the window rotated, and blocked off outside view of what was happening in the room.
"Squall, I know what has happened," Cid began to say, and shook his head. "Hyne, Zell was one of our best, and he was one of your friends. Then President Loire, as well as Ellone . . . ."
"Its difficult," Squall replied, not wanting to say anything else. How in the hell was he going to do this? To shoot the Headmaster . . . . It was almost unthinkable.
"Are you up to commanding Garden right now?" Cid asked, and the question surprised Squall. He didn't immediately respond, and clenched his fists again as anger shot through his mind.
I'm not fit to command anything, not with this damn terrorist with a personal vendetta I now nothing about holding a gun to my sister's head. She murdered Zell, Laguna, all those people on that train, and is going to destroy Garden . . . And wants me to kill Cid Kramer, founder and Headmaster of Garden. And what the hell for
"Squall, what is it?" Cid asked as he watched Squall, curious as to his odd, introverted behavior. He could tell that things were amiss from the way Squall was acting. "Something's wrong."
Squall took a breath, and looked toward the closed blinds of the office.
"Yes," he whispered. "Something is very wrong."
"What is it?" Cid asked. "Does it have anything to do with the attack on the President's train?"
"Yes, sir, it does," Squall replied, looking down at the floor, his hands trembling. He couldn't bring himself to look at the Headmaster, knowing what he was about to do. In fact, he couldn't even open his eyes, not wanting to acknowledge the reality of the situation.
"'Sir?'" Cid echoed, confused. "Squall, you haven't called me that for years, now. We're both of the same rank." He paused, analyzing Squall's odd behavior and his unconscious return to calling Cid as a superior. "Tell me, what's going on? You know something."
"Yes, Headmaster," Squall replied, and slowly shook his head. "I wish I could tell you what it was, but I can't."
"Why not?" Cid asked insistently.
Because I'm about to put three bullets into your forehead! Squall's mind screamed.
"Its . . . Complicated," Squall replied unconvincingly.
"Stop stalling, Squall," Illarra's voice cut in without warning, jolting Squall. The Commander opened his eyes, staring at the deck in front of his feet. "Take him out, now."
"I can't," Squall muttered.
"What?" Cid asked, and Squall looked up, meeting Cid's eyes. There was an exchange between the older man and the younger man, a sudden mutual understanding, and a moment later, Squall's hands were holding the pistol, leveling the silenced weapon at Cid's forehead. The Headmaster looked only slightly surprised, and then, a moment later, understanding. His expression did not show fear, or anger, or betrayal. Instead, it merely showed . . . Comprehension, and also a lack of it, at the same time.
"What's going on, Commander?" Cid asked after a moment, watching the trembling pistol in Squall's hand.
"I wish I was at liberty to say, Headmaster," Squall replied after a tense second.
"Shoot him," Illarra demanded in Squall's ear. He ignored her, focusing on Cid, sitting before him, apparently unafraid.
"Why?" Cid asked, and Squall shook his head. "I know you, Squall. You're not doing this of your own free will. What's going on?"
"Something terrible," Squall replied. "If I don't do this . . . ."
"The terrorists will do something," Cid replied, nodding after a moment. "I see. Who or what is it?"
"I can't say," Squall responded. He moved his thumb up, cocking the hammer back on his pistol. "I'm sorry." His finger tightened around the trigger, and then stopped. Squall couldn't do it. He couldn't bring himself to fire.
"Garden was founded for charitable means," Cid suddenly told Squall. "Our purpose is to protect the world from threats. We must do whatever it takes to protect those in danger. If my death is required to save even one person from pain and suffering . . . ." The Headmaster straightened in his chair. "I am prepared to give it."
"Sir . . . ." Squall said, shaking his head slowly. "Don't . . . don't make me want to shoot. I don't want to do this."
"Shoot him, now!" Illarra demanded. Squall closed his eyes, shaking his head again.
"They will hurt countless people if I live," Cid replied, slowly taking off his glasses. "My life exists so that Garden can exist. I've devoted my life to protecting life. If my death saves others, I'll gladly accept it."
Squall looked to Cid again, and another mutual wave of understanding passed between the two men. Squall inhaled slowly, and his finger tightened again around the pistol's trigger. If the Headmaster is willing to die . . . .
"Forgive me."
"Now kill him, Squall," Illarra ordered. "Finish it."
In the deafening silence that filled the office at that moment, only one sound could be heard clearly.
The door swung open behind the standing Commander, and Xu walked in.
"Sir, we have the-" she stated, and then shot forward at Squall, seeing the pistol in his hands, leveled at the Headmaster. He said flashed out as Squall turned, off-guard, and both blades jabbed at his chest. Squall took a step back, and swept his arms across, catching Xu's arms by the wrists and throwing them out wide, purely by reflex. He countered with a quick, unthinking knee to her stomach, knocking her back, and followed through as she was tossed back against the wall of the office with a swinging punch aimed at her jaw.
One of Xu's sai shot up, catching his hand as it came in, and Squall recoiled, the blade driving between his ring and middle fingers. Xu pushed off the wall and slammed into Squall, knocking him backward, and spun around into a kick that impacted the Garden Commander in the chest and launched him back. He tore through the blinds protecting Cid's office, and smashed through the glass outside of it, and crashed down hard onto the floor of the main room, his pistol clattering away.
Squall was momentarily dazed, and his hand screamed at him in pain, but he didn't move as Xu dropped from the Headmaster's second-story office and dropped right on top of him, planting both her sai dangerously close to his throat.
"Call Security!" she ordered quickly, not taking her eyes off Squall's face. "Have them up here immediately and place the Commander under arrest!"
"Ma'am?" asked one of the many Seeds standing up and looking at the sudden commotion.
"Now!" she ordered. "He was attacking the Headmaster! Get Security immediately!"
Squall simply lay on his back, unmoving, keenly feeling the blades pressed against his throat. His face was locked in an impassive, stone-like visage, which his the shock and desperation he was feeling at that moment.
"Not good, Squall," Illarra said, as a trio of SeeDs with the shoulder insignia Garden's internal security force hauled him to his feet. They quickly drew his Guardian Forces from him, before handcuffing the Commander. The hauled him off immediately, Xu following, and with Cid watching from his office, everyone confused as to what had just happened.
"Not good at all. Your sister won't be happy to hear this while Simmons has his way with her . . . ."
The enemy kept closing in all around the trio. A whirling axe flew past Irvine's head, almost taking his life, and buried into a tree beside him. A slashing sword chopped toward Selphie, but she stepped aside and countered with a whirling nunchaku that smashed the madman's nose. Irvine ran on, Selphie right beside him, and Victor bringing up the rear, limping as fast as he could, blood still pouring down his leg.
"Can you keep up?" Selphie asked, looking back at their wounded comrade, and he waved a hand in the air.
"I'm fine!" he shouted, denying the seriousness of his injury. Selphie and Irvine glanced to one another quickly, both understanding just how bad the situation was. At the rate Victor was bleeding, and how fast he was running, he would bleed to death eventually.
They didn't have time to treat him, and Victor knew this. They could only run on as fast as they could. Irvine rushed up ahead, and started to round a small hill, when he heard a scream of rage beside him, and a white-robed figure rose up, raising a scythe in his hands. Irvine shattered his skull with a well-placed shotgun blast, and jumped over his corpse, running down the rough path they were following. The trio ducked through a small copse of trees and hit a long stretch of clear ground, flanked by trees. They ran on for a moment, and only after a few seconds did they realize, with a start, that the screams and roars had stopped.
Irvine slowed, as did Selphie and Victor, and turned around, scanning the trees. The forest itself was till, silent, and undisturbed, as if the dozens of madmen had simply vanished into the snowy woods.
"Okay," Selphie said after a tense moment. "Where are the badguys?" The others didn't answer her, instead looking to the forest warily. Nothing moved, and there was not even a whisper of noise. The forest was still and deathly silent.
"Nothing," Irvine said, and looked back to Victor, who was taking the momentary reprieve to quickly cast a healing spell over his wound. He tore off part of his jacket and used it as a makeshift bandage, tightening it around the gash. As he was patching himself up, the other two SeeDs watched the forest, slowly turning their heads, confused but glad for the reprieve, though they felt as if things were just preparing to get worse.
"Selphie, we should go, now," Irvine muttered after a moment, and she nodded, glancing to Victor, who was finishing up with the bandage. As Irvine scanned the forest, he looked own the path they were standing on, and froze.
"Selphie." She glanced up to where he was looking, and paused as well, equally shocked to see what stood before them.
The girl in the black dress stood about twenty feet down the path, looking over them curiously. It was the same mystery girl that they had spotted outside the cabin, wearing the exact same black dress with the white trim at the top. He skin was still pale, and the air behind her seemed to ripple with what looked like white and black vapors. She was looking over the SeeDs with a curious, almost childlike stare, as surprised to see them as they were to see her.
"Hello," she said quietly, breaking the silence, and giving them a polite nod.
"Hi," Irvine replied uncertainly. There was another moment of silence between them, as the girl continued sizing them up. The others did so as well, with Irvine and Selphie both confused. Irvine hadn't been certain of it before, but he was now: there was something distinctly familiar about her face . . . .
The girl glanced at Victor, and saw his wound. Her eyes widened slightly.
"You're hurt," she said, seeming a bit concerned. Victor waved his hand in the air.
"I'll survive," he responded, looking back behind them for any threats.
"What are you out here for?" the girl asked. "Not very many people come out this far into the woods anymore . . . ."
"We didn't have much of a choice," Selphie responded. "Those guys in the white clothes were chasing us."
"Men in white?" the girl asked, and she glanced around at the woods. "Oh, no, they're doing it again . . . ."
"Doing what?" Irvine asked, looking around as well.
"They kill anyone who comes into the woods," she responded sadly. "I saw them kill some poor hunters on the edge of the forest yesterday. I was going to help them, but by the time I got there they were already dead, and the men ran away as I got near."
"They didn't attack you?" Selphie asked, and the girl shook her head.
"They never attack me," she replied. "They always run away, like they're scared of me."
"Well, mind is we stick around with you?" Irvine asked with a chuckle. "If they avoid you, we could use the reprieve. They've been chasing us ever since we entered the woods."
"That would be fine," she replied, with a genuine smile. "I haven't seen very many people in the forest for a long time. Not since I left home."
"What's your name?" Selphie asked the girl.
"My parents said my name was Serra," she replied. "They said it was what they were told I was named. But . . . why are you here in the woods? Not very many people actually come to these forests anymore, even before the white men appeared."
"Well, we're on a mission," Selphie replied as they walked closer to Serra. "We were sent out here to investigate some stories people had heard."
"The men in white?" Serra asked, almost to herself. "Yes, I think they would have sent people to investigate with all the killings . . . ."
"Well, not directly," Irvine replied. "The locals hired us to find something they called the Demon. A kid born in a local village a couple of years ago."
Serra froze at Irvine's words, and then quickly looked back and forth between them, surprise and trepidation appearing on her face.
"You're looking for the Demon?" she asked, and Irvine nodded. "I . . . I'm sorry." She began to back away, shaking her head. "I . . . I have to go now."
"Wait!" Irvine began to say, but Serra spun and began to run away. Irvine started after her, but she was fast, far faster than the SeeDs, running very quickly over the snow. It took the SeeDs a moment to realize that she wasn't actually running, and that her feet had started to hover over the snow as she fled. Moments later, she had almost passed out of sight.
"Well, that's not good," Victor muttered. "Let's get after her, she may know a safe place."
"Yeah, but there's definitely something strange about her," Selphie added. "Not just that aura or her flying. She's familiar somehow. Like . . . I don't know. I know I've seen her face somewhere."
Her musing was suddenly cut off as a scream resounded in the woods around her.
"Run!" Irvine shouted immediately, and they shot down the path as fast as they could, clearly hearing the roaring cries of the white-clad madmen as they resumed the chase. They had to find Serra. If she was right, she would be able to keep them safe from this unending stream of foes.
The view of Esthar was wonderful, as always. Nearly every office in the Palace had access to either a window showing the cityscape, or a holographic projector that did the same. This office was the same, showing the width and breadth of the might city, unmarred from the monster invasion of three years ago.
The man standing at the window, looking over this city, turned away from it as he heard the last of his audience sitting down in the seats arrayed before his desk.
"Gentlemen, I'm glad to see you all here on such short notice," stated the slightly balding, brown haired man, who stood behind the desk. Before him were fifteen men, clad in the decorated robes of high-level Presidential Advisors or the functional robes of the Estharian military, with numerous decorations indicating their high ranks. Within the room were the highest-ranking officials in Esthar. President Laguna Loire's "Wiseman Council".
"We've all heard the news," the man continued, "So, I took the initiative to call the meeting as early as possible. The rest of the country is entirely unaware of what has happened, and before they find out, we must make the important decision as to who we will rally behind."
"Yes, Director Crell," said Head General Kent, looking impatient and annoyed. "We know the purpose of this meeting." The man behind the desk, Director Crell Varines of the Estharian Bureau of Intelligence, nodded.
"Nonetheless, the Estharian Republic's Constitution demands that we do recite the purpose of this meeting," Crell replied. "A useless bit of formality, but it has to be done, considering the legal sharks we have to deal with. I'd prefer to skip it, myself. Anyway, the Constitution states that if the acting President dies or is incapacitated, a private, secret election must take place among the Wisemen's Council to decide which of his closest subordinates acts as President until elections can be arranged for the new President."
"Now that that's said," cut in Economics Advisor Frengis in his raspy, aged voice. "The decision needs to be made. Today is a very important day for the world, and we can't sit by idly while the world peace conference takes place."
"I agree," added the new Foreign Affairs Advisor, Redjick. "We need a leader, and soon. Let's not waste anymore time on formalities. Who should be nominated?"
"General Kent is top of the list," added Head Admiral Teradin. "We all can agree that he General is one of the President's best men." General Kent seemed a bit embarrassed by the instant nomination, but his attention was stolen when Director Crell cleared his throat.
"I may also need to add that Presidential power automatically shifts to the last remaining Wiseman on the Council, if all the others are killed. Though that is an exceptional formality, again."
"It might be relevant," responded Security Advisor Evens, suddenly. "Considering the nature of the terrorist threat, and the reports that it was perpetrated from within our own military, there is the chance that members of the Wisemen may be killed as terrorist targets. We need to remember that provision."
"Yes, Advisor, it is an important provision," Crell added with a nod. "My intelligence sources are suspecting hat the enemy may be part of the Neo-Adelist movement, which, as we know all to well, has infiltrated the military's ranks. We don't know how deep the corruption has spread. I would advise caution." Crell looked around the room carefully. "It could even have spread into this chamber."
"Nonsense!" came a shout from somewhere, but that was drowned under the chorus of firm, vicious denials.
"Director," General Kent managed to state over the other's words. "Are you insinuating that one of President Loire's most trusted advisors is in league with extremists trying to bring back the rule of Adel in Esthar?"
"Insinuating?" Crell said, and suddenly, a dark smile cut across his face as he looked around the room, at the old men gathered here. He stared each one of them in the eye, evaluating them. "General, what if I told you that my intelligence has confirmed that a member of the Neo-Adel movement is inside this chamber, right now?"
Silence greeted that bombshell, and the Wisemen glanced around, looking at one another with new suspicion.
"Who?" breathed another Advisor from somewhere.
"The most important and dangerous person in this room, of course," Crell replied. He closed his eyes, and inhaled slowly, almost seeming to savor this breath. Suddenly, the Director snapped to attention, and drew his left hand across his chest, touching his right shoulder.
"Victrix Adel!" the Director shouted, and deafening silence followed his salute and recitation of a line not openly spoken within Esthar in two decades. "May Adel know victory."
"You . . . ." Kent hissed. "The Director of Intelligence . . . In league with the Adelists?"
"Not just in league, gentlemen," Crell said quietly, opening his eyes, a vicious smile on his face. "Directly responsible for planning, deploying, supplying, and executing today's assassination."
"You bastard," an older Advisor said, standing up, pointing a disbelieving, trembling finger at Crell, where he stood. "You were working inside our government, the whole time . . . ."
"For two decades," responded Crell with a smile. "In fact, I was behind that dirty little secret you people hid. The little secret that you used SeeD's first class against. SeeD's first contract destroyed my own personal pet project." Crell shook his head. "We were so close too. Artificial Sorceress power . . . ."
"You were Major Virago," accused Evens, and Crell nodded.
"The Virago himself," Crell admitted. "Esthar's most evil, ruthless, and vicious officer and scientist. The man who made even Doctor Hans Odine squeamish. The ultimate fanatic in Adel's service. The man who committed suicide the moment he heard Adel had fallen." Crell paused. "Hm. Maybe we shouldn't be believing stories from so-called 'loyal' men, hm?"
General Kent suddenly pulled a sidearm from his robes, as did the other high-ranking military officials, leveling them at the Director.
"Someone, call Security!" Kent ordered quickly. "Have them arrest the Director."
"Won't work, gentlemen," Crell replied casually, and he chuckled. "I've been practicing my speech for two decades. Can't believe its not all coming back to me now, though, after all this time. I must say, I am nervous. But regardless, you'll find your personal comlinks are disabled. There's a jamming fielding this room."
"Hmph," Kent replied confidently. "We can get around that."
"The doors are also locking," Crell added with a vicious smile, and at his cue, a series of faint clicks could be heard around the chamber. The Wisemen glanced around, shocked and confused, and several of them let out gasps of fear. Crell, meanwhile, glanced at his watch.
"And in the next few moments, a hovercar, laden with enough C7 to blow out half this floor, is headed straight for this room." Crell turned around, and gestured toward the expansive window behind him, where one could see a distant pinprick on the city's horizon, growing larger by the second.
The Wisemen scattered like shrapnel, running toward the doors, beating on the walls, shouting, screaming, yelling, one even praying to Hyne. Crell glanced at that man and laughed at the irony. If only he knew . . . .
Kent, face contorting in rage, rushed at Crell, moving around the desk, and raised his hands to throttle the Director. His hands closed around Crell's throat-
And passed right through.
"Aw, poor General," Crell said, shaking his head condescendingly. "You think I'd reveal my entire plan, and send a remote-controlled bomb at this room, and actually be in here? I've been transmitting through this hologram the whole time. Oh, how I love our modern technology!"
Kent fell away, horror on his expression as he looked out the window, at the rapidly approaching car bomb. Estharian police vehicles were rising up into its path, alerted by its high speed and threatening course, but were in no position to actually stop the flying bomb.
"It'll hit in a couple of seconds," Crell remarked with another laugh. He glanced at his watch. "In exactly three . . . .
"Two . . . .
"One . . . ."
A blossom of fire shot out of the side of the Presidential Palace, and the holographic images faded to static.
"That was deeply satisfying," Director Crell Varines remarked. He looked around the interior of his hover-limousine, and laughed. "And with the old fools dead, Esthar reverts to the rule of the last surviving Wiseman. Me."
"Congratulations," replied the cool, even voice beside him, and Crell turned his eyes downward, looking at the figure beside him.
Eyes can deceive, and this was the greatest of deceptions. Beside him sat a small girl, looking barely over eight years old, clad in a simple blue dress, with perfectly black hair and deep brown eyes. Her skin was milky white, and she looked out the window of the car with idle amusement. The girl was harmless, at first glance, but Crell knew that to underestimate her would bring instant, absolute death.
"This plan was your idea," Crell stated to the girl. "Without your help, the Elemental Project would never have expanded to what it is now. I would never have risen to this level of power." Crell clenched his hands together. "Esthar is under my thumb now, and soon, the rest of the world as well."
"That serves both our purposes," Crell continued with a smile. "SeeD will soon be annihilated, both from my mole inside and from the actions of its own Commander. Even now, Illarra is turning him against everyone he cares for. The Headmaster is dead or will be soon, and Balamb Garden will sink into the ocean, and soon, the other world leaders . . . ."
"None will live to oppose you, President," the girl said with a smile. "And we will reap our benefits from the Elemental Project. Our own, unique benefits for each of us."
"A fine partnership," Crell stated with a laugh. "This day is the best one I've had since before Adel fell to Loire." Crell slapped the intercom. "Driver!"
"Yes sir?" the man responded.
"Take us to the Palace. I must speak on news of a tremendous tragedy that matches what happened a couple of hours ago."
"Yes sir," the driver said, and the hovering limousine changed directions.
And now, the tiny, innocent, harmless girl thought to herself, the great moment begins again. The path to the last dream is begun anew. The path to the last fantasy. My Final Fantasy . . . .
More questions posed than answered, eh? What will happen to Squall now that he's arrested? What evil plots do Illarra, Crell, and their ilk have in store? What will happen to Ellone? And what ov Irvine, Selphie, and Victor, and the mystery girl, Serra? The plot thickens . . . .
Next chapter, more on Zell and Laguna's adventures, as well as Irvine and Selphie! Plus, more of the treachery of Esthar's Director of Intelligence, and the (hopefully) return of the mysterious Alucard!
Peptuck's Shout-Outs! TAKE OFF EVERY ZIG!
Solid Shark: It does, doesn't it? I don't know where I got the description from, honestly. XD I came up with some ofit on my own, though some of it is from another, unrelated story I've read.
Spikestrife: Oh my, the suspense! What will Squall do, indeed?
Kimahrigirl: Yes. Yes, it sucks to be Squall. Really, it sucks to be any of the FFVIII crew, soon. And again, never fear for Seifer. He'll appear in the next few chapters, hopefully.
Karaoke Risa: Rinoa may actually play a bigger role than you'd expect here . . . .
Chris Ganale: You will grow to hate the villians even more. Illarra has more in store for Squall, not to mention what Crell has planned, and a few other villians who'll pop up, too!
I did get your email, by the way. I still need to reply, my mind is whirling over here, too.
DBZ Fanfiction Queen: Well, it was close. :P Squall almost capped him! Squall got aorund it much like Jack did, being discovered by the security.
The spy is certainly not Quistis. I'm not that crazy as to make her the traitor. The traitor is not any of the main characters of FFVIII, though it is a minor one. Who, I am not saying.
Rinoa may actually read some more on who and what Alucard is later on. Not all will be revealed right awayabout our mystery wild card, trust me.
Katy: Well, here's your update! Hope you liked it:D
Prodigy: Yes, I did get the name from somewhere else. A story someone else wrote, which I shamelessly ripped off. I don't know where he got it from, though.
Rusty Knights Productions: The 24-style becomes much mor eintense in the next few chapters. It won't stay 24-ish forever, but will branch off into other styles, but for the first ten to fifteen chapters, it will be very much based off 24.
Onirazz: If you hate her, great. I'm doing my job. Seifer is . . . around. He will appear soon enough.
E: Well, that's a compliment! I hope this both fulfilled your addiciton and made you go crazier for more of the story.
The traitor . . . NORG may actually have some involvement . . . .
That enough maddening tidbits released for one chapter? Yay! Anyway, off to sleep. I'm tired, and I have mys ecret projects and evil world domination plans to work on.
Until next chapter!