Chapter 1: On the Hunt
"Do you know why we have to wear these?" he asked. Slowly, he turned to his guest, watching the man as he slowly finished tightening the straps. Silver light shone down through the windows, illuminating the small room, the glow reflecting off the metal band running across his forehead.
"Because of what you made," responded his guest. "What we created."
"We?" he responded, and chuckled. He reached up, fiddling with the device that ran across his own forehead, the black cloth disguising the machinery built into the bandana. "Technically, that's true, I suppose."
"The only way to retain sanity," mused his guest, standing up. He watched as the man picked up his weapon, slowly strapping it across his chest.
"What are you going to do now?" he asked, and his guest shrugged.
"What else?" The guest looked across the room as he finished donning the blade and its scabbard. "Fixing all these mistakes."
It was getting late, and the sun was dropping over the eastern horizon, passing beneath the mountains far to the east of Galbadia City, the renamed capital of Galbadia. The last traces of orange fire were cutting across the sky and through the clouds as Seifer's SUV rolled down the street.
" . . . and in other news across the globe, two gunmen opened fire on a Timber police vehicle earlier today, killing one officer and wounding a second. Local police were unable to find the attackers or identify them. New Way claimed responsibility, saying that the attack was approved by Crell Varines himself. A second attack in Dollet today involved three bombs placed in the Marksdale Hotel, killing seventeen civilians and wounding nearly eighty more-"
Seifer hit a button, changing the radio station. The last thing he needed was hearing news about things he'd already had headaches over earlier that day. He looked up as he moved down the road, noting he cars moving with his own vehicle. There weren't a huge number on the streets at the moment; Deling City only really came alive at night; and most people waited until after sunset to get out and about. Seifer was glad that there weren't many vehicles moving around . . . it decreased the number of potential car-bombs rolling around on the street. He'd learned to be cautious over the last year; the car bomb attempt on his life in Dollet four months ago had taught him to be wary.
No vehicles seemed to be suspicious as he drove down the main street of Galbadia City, but that didn't ease Seifer's concerns; Crell's New Way terrorists had a tendency to jump out of nowhere.
Seifer's cell phone rang, and he sighed and picked it up. He flipped it open as he turned onto a side street.
"Almasy."
"Commander, command post is set up." The voice was from one of his team leaders. Seifer nodded as the man spoke.
"You have the target scouted out yet?"
"We've got IR scanners surrounding the building, and we picked up construction maps and plans from the City Planning Office. We're keeping it low profile and quiet, at least until business starts picking up."
"Is our boy in there yet?" Seifer asked as he rolled down another side street, turning onto another major road.
"NOC has him confirmed; he's inside the building, closing down a few business deals. Sounds like he's planning a meeting with someone else in Crell's organization tonight, a courier to run some of their profits to another cell. We've got some good news and some bad news, however."
"The good?" Seifer asked.
"Good news is that we were able to arrange that water main leak you wanted. Effectively shut down business for the club for the next couple of nights, so we'll have a lot less civilian presence inside the building than we would normally."
"That'll keep civilian casualties as low as we can get them," Seifer added. "Makes the assault that much more clean. What about the bad news?"
"Boatload of goons has been filtering in over the last three hours. Looks like well over twenty guys, professional soldiers, all in suits and well armed. Them plus Steele's own bodyguards mean we've got at least thirty hostiles on the inside, and they're looking for trouble."
"Nothing we can't handle," Seifer replied. He scanned the street as he drove down it. Nothing out of the ordinary that he could see. "Is everyone assembled?"
"Three Ranger elements from Galbadia are here, plus our SeeDs. We're good to go as soon as you get here."
"We still need to get more intel on our target, see exactly how many goons he has protecting him. Intel says he's pretty important in the command structure, so - holy shit!" Seifer suddenly stopped as a car shot out of an alley directly in front of him. The vehicle spun and started driving down the street directly in front of Seifer, who swerved to the side. His instincts suddenly erupted, firing off wildly, and the SeeD half-expected a dozen weapons to be pointing out of the vehicle and firing at him.
However, Seifer's sudden alarm was unnecessary; the vehicle seemed benign, just had a bad driver. It moved down the street at a steady pace, and Seifer shook his head, moving past it. No, the vehicle was no threat; he was just being jumpy with all the terrorist threats and attacks lately. The SeeD accelerated past the idiotic driver, and spared a glance at the person behind the wheel, expecting some blind old lady peeking over the steering wheel.
Seifer liked his SUV. It was big, powerful, fast, and carried a lot of equipment and firepower in the back. It also afforded him an excellent view of the area around him, and the seat was higher up than most normal cars. As he drove past the vehicle, and glanced down at the driver, he could see down into the vehicle, and could tell the horrible driver was no old lady, but rather a middle-aged man, steering with on hand, the other holding-
Seifer suddenly, and completely instinctively, swerved, slamming his SUV sideways into the car, driving it off the road and onto the sidewalk.
-the other hand holding the detonator to what looked like enough C7 explosive to level a mid-sized building.
The smaller car was driven sideways, slamming into a sapling planted along the side of the road. The car slammed into the plant, bumper crumpling from the force behind the sudden impact. Seifer turned his SUV hard, bringing the vehicle to a stop, and leapt out, grabbing his gunblade. He ran across the intervening distance between himself and the car, and saw the shocked driver was buried facefirst in an airbag, and was pushing himself back and up. Wasting no time, Seifer rushed in, slamming his left hand through the windshield and shattering it with all his junction-enhanced power.
The terrorist inside recoiled from the flying chunks of glass, and fell away, his hands frantically reaching down for the detonator. His hands wrapped around it as Hyperion lanced into the shattered window, stabbing into the man's throat. The terrorist's eyes bulged as he stared in shock at the SeeD's weapon, but somehow retained the presence of mind to try and close his thumb down on the button of the detonator.
Seifer pulled the trigger on Hyperion, and the terrorist's movements stopped completely, the detonator falling out of his hands and into the seat. The dead terrorist's head followed a second later.
Seifer stared at the bloody mess that made up the interior of the car, and pulled back, wiping his face off with his sleeve.
"Fuck," he muttered, just barely beginning to relax now that the threat had been removed. That had been too close.
People were running toward the site of the disturbance, and Seifer took a step back, holding up a hand, yelling for everyone to keep away. He set Hyperion down and pulled out his cell phone again, dialing up the local police and calling in the incident. Within a few minutes a police vehicle was on the scene, and Seifer let the cops handle the details, sticking around just long enough to show them his identification and explain he was expected elsewhere. He received a shocked thanks from one of the officers at his quick prevention of another lethal attack, and then climbed back into his SUV, now marred with scratches along its side from where the two cars had met.
"Sir?" asked the SeeD he'd been speaking with after Seifer called the man back, as he started down the road again. "What happened?"
"Scored one for the good guys," Seifer commented calmly as he continued down the street, blood still marking his face and sleeve. "Where were we?"
The idling engine sent slight vibrations through the motorcycle as it stood on one of the eastern bluffs overlooking Galbadia City. The sunlight continued to die, becoming only a streak of orange fire poking over the eastern mountains. Night would fall on the distant city soon enough, and then . . . .
The cell phone in his pocket thrummed slightly, and he looked down at his coat, before reaching in and pulling the device out. He flipped it open and put it to his ear, pressing a button.
"SeeD operation going down at the Quicksilver nightclub tonight. Minimal civilian involvement. Target is named Steele, mid-level flunkie in New Way. He has the intel you need."
There was a click, and the message ended.
He returned the cell phone to his coat pocket silently, and then pulled his hat down low, securing it around his head and ensuring it wouldn't fly away. Leaning down low over the motorcycle, he gunned the engine, causing the wheels to spin, throwing up dirt into the air behind his bike. The black-plated motorcycle erupted forward, shooting down the side of the bluff and toward the distant city, its rider's coat flapping in the wind like some rip-off of a dramatic CG fantasymovie
It was time to hunt.
Seifer's SUV pulled into a parking garage for a nearby mall next to the nightclub, and drove right into the middle of a small field base, consisting of a ring of additional vans and SUVs. Galbadian soldiers and SeeDs, all clad in blue-black nighttime assault gear and armor, were prepping weapons and equipment while several more went over the basic battle plan.
"I say we go in with frags, door breachers, and flashbangs," remarked one of the SeeDs, a black watchcap over the top of his blonde hair, black lightning tattoo shooting across his face. Zell Dincht tapped three spots on a schematic of the nightclub, the main entryways. "Bust down the doors and charge in, guns blazing. Shock and awe. I figure that if we send everyone in through these entrances, we can have the entire occupied area of the club swept and cleared within a minute to a minute and a half."
"Brute force won't work, Zell," commented the woman standing across from him, shaking her head. Rinoa's slender figure was outfitted with the same gear as the rest of the soldiers, and she seemed surprisingly comfortable wearing the blue-black clothing and armor of an assault soldier. "We have to take this one delicately. We have to take Steele alive, and we have a NOC inside as well. Going in with all guns blazing can end up killing either of them. Not to mention that they've probably got contingencies and escape routes ready if we go in like that."
She ran a finger along the schematics, and paused, tapping one spot.
"There's an accessway along this alley that connects to the basement of the club. The basement opens up directly into the kitchen at the back. If we use this route, we can get a team inside the middle of the building before anyone knows we're there."
A car door slammed nearby, and both of the SeeDs looked up, to see Seifer walking toward them, clad in his typical white coat, though his left sleeve and face were smeared by crimson.
"Yo, you alright?" Zell asked as Seifer walked into the circle of troops gathered around the maps and schematics. The CITU commander shrugged.
"Some asshole was driving a car bomb," he replied. "I had to take care of him." Rinoa and Zell blinked at the nonchalant way Seifer had spoken that, but they dismissed it. Crell's terrorists kept crawling out of the woodwork, and the number of attacks were intensifying over the last few months. Zell had actually seemed happy at the notion that the enemy was getting more aggressive, pointing out that the more the enemy exposed themselves, the more of them that CITU would be whacking down.
"So, what have we got?" Seifer asked, looking over the papers. "Anyone have a plan for this?"
"Zell wants to kick in the doors and kick everyone's asses," Rinoa explained, and the brawler nodded.
"Zell always wants to kick in the door and kick everyone's asses," Seifer countered. "That's why he's not in charge. You have a plan, Rinoa?" She nodded, and quickly outlined her assault operation, while Zell pouted.
"Kick in the door is a perfectly sound battleplan," he muttered.
"Zell, be quiet. The first squad inserts through the sewer access behind the building," she explained. "They'll be set up right inside the kitchen. Second squad will hit through the fire escapes in the back of the building. Move in and clear the entire structure."
"Back entrance will be left uncovered," Zell remarked, and Rinoa nodded.
"GCPD is ready to form a solid perimeter around the club once we break in. Give them the signal and they'll have the whole area locked down." She put both hands on the schematics, where the teams would be breaking in, and moved them inward. "As we break in, Steele will break out through the back door and make a run for it."
"And we ambush him as he escapes," Seifer added. "He slips out, thinks he's clear, andGCPD will catch him in the perimeter." Seifer mulled over the plan. "I like it."
"We'll need to make it look like the assault teams are our full assault force," Rinoa added. "If he thinks we'll jump him as he escapes, he may just kill himself or fight to the death. We can't have a large team hitting him from behind."
"I know just who to call for that job," Seifer replied. "What about our NOC?"
"He should be able to stay with Steele. If he's compromised, though, we know he can fight his way out or assist in bringing Steele down."
"Good," Seifer said with a nod. "Okay, this plan looks like it will work. Get the data and assault plans to all our people and call GCPD, let them know. Once everyone's ready we go in."
Allen Steele leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He let out a vexed sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Three days," he muttered. "Three whole days."
"Yes, sir," answered one of his lieutenants, and the man muttered something under his breath. Steele sat forward, running a hand through his blonde hair, andcursed under his breath.
"This will set things back for a bit," he stated. "With the club's operations down, we can't use it for much of a front. I'm sure GCPD would start noticing if our people went in and out regularly from a closed nightclub, and half our operations use regular club activities to distribute our goods." Drugs, prostitution, illegal arms, fencing stolen merchandise . . . It all went on in the Quicksilver, and had been that way for years, as long as Crell's element in the Adelist movement had been operating. Only so much money could be shaved from Estharian Intelligence's budget before people would have started noticing, and once Crell had started the ShadowNet operation, illegal income had become the main staple of his insurgent army's supply of cash. In the last year Steele had gone from a middling financial supplier to one of Crell's top ten income providers.
And with club operations used as the main front to facilitate deals, the shutdown of operations was going to cut into their margins significantly. The boss wouldn't be very happy, but they couldn't help it.
Steele looked across his office, then at Miccar, the lieutenant sitting across from him, then at Stan and Ed, the two trusted bodyguards standing at the interior door to his office. Outside were Stewart and Roger, the other two bodyguards, watching the door from the other side. They were relatively new, and not as closely trusted as Stan and Ed. Crell had been shifting resources around, and the ShadowNet, while secure, was not one hundred percent reliable, so communications through it were spotty at best. One couldn't be too careful, even with men who'd been around for months.
"Well, tell the crew to get all our incriminating stuff hidden away so we can get those repair people inside to fix everything. I need this place up and running before we can get back to our operations. Miccar, get with our contacts, tell them we'll have to relocate or postpone the deals until next week." Steele paused, and scratched his chin, and opened up his laptop. He tapped a few keys, and frowned as he tried to connect to the ShadowNet to see if there were any updates. All he got for a moment was static coming over the lines. "And get a couple of guys out back on the DSL connections. See if the water main caused any problems with our network. Its been spotty for the last few hours."
A couple of quick revisions had been made to the plans as they had surrounded the nightclub. The side entrance and second floor fire escape were to be stormed directly by Galbadian Ranger and SeeDelements, one of which was led by Seifer. Rinoa was to go with Zell and the remaining SeeD and Galbadian troops to storm the kitchen and attack the center of the nightclub. A spotter was put along the rear alley of the club to watch for any escaping enemy troops and to funnel Steele into the GCPD perimeter if he tried escaping out the back.
Rinoa's team, a dozen SeeDs and Galbadian Rangers, along with Zell, had finished preparing all their gear and were moving up the side alley that the sewer connected to. In the darkened night, the only visible lights were those poking around the corners of the club from the street outside, plus a few small lamps along the alley. Nothing was moving as the assault force moved up the alley, Rinoa leading, clutching a UMP sub-machinegun, the standard issue SeeD weapon for close-quarters assault, and also the firearm Rinoa had specialized in.
"First Squad?" came Seifer's voice, and Rinoa paused, pressing a finger to her throat, where a small microphone was taped.
"In position, about to enter the sewers," she whispered. Rinoa put a hand on her gunblade's handle, and then grpped her UMP more tightly as they drew closer to the grating set against the side of the building. Rinoa raised a fist, twirling it in a circle, then raised an index finger and did the same with it. The SeeDs and Rangers formed up around the grating, into a semicircle, covering all approaches, while Zell slipped in and started working over the grating itself. Without any trouble at all, the SeeD brawler lifted the grating up and moved it aside, setting down the hundred pounds of solid metal without a sound. Immediately, the SeeDs and Galbadians filed in, dropping down silently and moving through the sewer access into the basement. Once the regular troops had gone in, Zell followed, and Rinoa moved to enter the passage, when she heard voices.
She looked out into the alley, to see a man in a business suit walk around a corner, and another man in engineer's coveralls beside him carrying a toolbox. They moved down the alley, but gave no indication that they had seen Rinoa where she crouched. Both men were armed, the technician wearing a pistol and the suited man carrying a sub-machinegun.
"Seifer, contact. Two hostiles in the side alley." She paused as they walked up to what looked like a phone line connection. The technician took out a scanner and plugged it in, and started hitting keys. Rinoa edged closer, sticking to the shadows, and tried to listen to what they were saying.
"Any interference?" the suited man asked the technician as he went about his work. The tech shook his head as he looked over the scanner.
"I need to run through the frequencies, but it doesn't look like the leak damaged any of the connections," replied the tech. "But it may take a few minutes to be sure. We jump between frequencies every few seconds, and with all the space between standard wi-fi frequencies, that's a lot of noise I have to scan."
"Meaning . . . .?"
"It'll be a bit. You can't expect to use something sophisticated like the ShadowNet and be finished checking everything in a few seconds, right?"
The two men went silent as the technician continued using his scanner. Rinoa watched them intently, recording and remembering their exact locations and the tools the technician was using. She had just stumbled onto something important . . . .
"Rinoa, update."
She tapped her throat mike, clicking it and letting Seifer know she had heard his order but couldn't respond for fear of giving herself away.
"Zell, update," Seifer added, switching to the next-closest person in the squad. Rinoa reached into a pocket as Zell spoke next, pulling out a small wireless PDA to send a text message to Seifer.
"One sentry in the basement down. We're in position near the entrance to the kitchen. Good to go."
"Second Squad?"
"In position on the fire escape. Ready to breach the second floor."
"Back alley?"
"Back door covered."
Rinoa finished typing in her message and sent it to Seifer: CONTACT, TWO HOSTILES IN SIDE ALLEY. TECHNICIAN AND GUARD, CHECKING COMMUNICATIONS. PERMISSION TO TAKE DOWN ALIVE.
She waited silently as the radio went silent for several seconds, and then her ear-speaker clicked twice. She glanced down at the PDA.
INTEL VALUE HIGH?
She typed in a quick response.
YES. MENTION OF "SHADOWNET".
A second later, Seifer's response appeared.
GO.
"First Squad," Rinoa whispered into her mike as the two hostiles started heading back up the alley. "Follow Zell's lead." She hurried up the alleyway, silent and blending in with the shadows, slinging her UMP and drawing the Revolver.
Neither man had any time to react; she didn't give them any time to. Rinoa's blade slashed against the back of one of the technician's knees, hamstringing him in a single deft move. Rinoa whirled as the tech gasped out in shock, and his guard turned in time to see the Revolver stab into his chest. Rinoa pulled the trigger, and the man was blasted in half, blood splattering over the blade and onto his comrade. The terrified, off-guard tech twisted toward Rinoa, drawing his pistol, but she quickly caught his wrist in her left hand and turned his arm out to the side, pointing the weapon away from her. In the same deft motion, he brought her gunblade across, bringing the bloody and warm edge of the sword to the man's neck.
"Drop it," she ordered harshly. The technician hesitated, before letting his pistol clatter to the pavement.
"Now," she added. "Let's talk."
"All personnel in position. Stand by," Seifer whispered under his breath as Garret, the demolitions specialist in his squad, finished setting a breaching charge in the door. The SeeD stepped back, holding up the detonator, as ten SeeDs and Galbadians readied their weapons behind him. Seifer was about to issue the execute order, when an idea hit him. He held up a hand and then stepped forward, rapping the door with a quick knock. A couple of seconds later, a voice could be heard on the other side.
"Yeah?"
"Gogogo!" Seifer shouted, and the door shattered inward with a deafening explosion, wood and metal shards flying throughout the interior of the room beyond. Seifer leapt through the confusion, over the shredded mess of the goon who had been drawn to the door. Hyperion and saber were in Seifer's hands as he set foot inside the corridor beyond, directly in front of a stunned, confused guard. Seifer didn't waste any time with any fancy techniques. He stabbed Hyperion into the man's stomach and fired, blasting his organs to liquid and hurling him off the slender gunblade as he rushed past, down the corridor. Several doorways lined the hall, and one flew open, two more suited guards stepping out, sub-machineguns in hand.
The saber arced up, slicing into one guard's weapon hand while the slender Hyperion slashed into his throat. The guard and his weapon hit the floor as Seifer whirled, stabbing both blades into the stomach of the second soldier, tearing the two weapons out wide to either side. The guard doubled over, dropping his weapon and clutching at his torn stomach, and Seifer rushed past him, moving deeper into the building. Behind him, he could heard doors being kicked open and gunfire, and his radio resounded with shouts of "Clear!" "Contact!" and "Firing!" Several more explosions were heard throughout the building, along with more distant gunfire and shouts and death cries throughout the club.
Zell had erupted through the door connecting the basement and kitchen the instant the go order had been issued, and barreled through the spotless food preparation area, only mildly aware that his boots were splashing in ankle-deep water from the broken piping. He slammed through the double doors connecting the kitchen and the bar and dining area, and ran headlong into two suited guards chatting by the bar. Both men had been looking up as explosions filled the nightclub, and were caught off-guard as Zell launched a vicious uppercut that plowed into the gut of the leftmost man, doubling him over and launching him a dozen feet backward.
The brawler spun at the second guard as he pulled a machine pistol from within his coat, and Zell's left hand clamped over the man's weapon hand. He twisted, and the iron-hard grip of the SeeD brawler shattered the guard's forearm in a single frighteningly violent movement. Zell's right hand lanced across, slamming into the soldier's head and hurling him backward over the bar to smash into the liquor-lined shelves directly behind it. Glass shattered in tremendous amounts, the shelves collapsing as the soldier's weight sent him falling to the floor. Shards of broken bottles, shattered shelving, and gallons of alcohol poured down around the falling soldier.
Zell heard shouts all around the main dining area and floor of the nightclub, and saw more guards bursting out of doors. Zell picked out the closest opponent and hurled himself at the man, leaping into the air as fast as he could, hurtling at the guard. He smashed into the man as he raised his weapon, legs crashing into his chest and throwing him across the room with a wild burst of automatic gunfire erupting from his gun.
Other men charged into the chamber, and then gunfire blazed all around the brawler, the SeeDs and Rangers coming out of the kitchen mere seconds behind Zell and cutting down Steele's guards.
The brawler, however, had already picked out another door, marked "Employees Only", and had kicked it down, chunks of the broken door impacting another guard beyond and staggering him. Zell rushed into the man, shoulder-blocking him with brutal force and hurling the soldier back against a wall hard enough to crack the plaster and wood.
"What the hell is going on?" Steele demanded as the resounding explosions and cracking reports of gunfire filled the silence of his club. He glanced around the room in fear, and reached into his desk, pulling a pistol from one of the drawers. Stewart and Roger rushed in, weapons in hand.
"Sir," Roger shouted. "SeeDs! CITU! They're breaking in!"
"We have to pull out!" Ed responded, grabbing his own weapon. Steele shot to his feet, and refused to argue with his bodyguards. He had them for a reason, after all. The four men quickly moved out into the next room, Steele right behind. They quickly cut around a corner and hurried down a hallway, Stewart in the lead. The guard threw a door open in front of him, and came to a stop as a soldier was hurled down the corridor before him. The tattooed brawler didn't see him, however, and he shut the door, spinning back toward the others, his expression telling Steele and his bodyguards that this route was closed. The group rapidly shifted direction, heading down another corridor.
"Back exit!" snapped Stan, and the others nodded. They charged down a second hallway, gunfire resounding throughout the club all around them.
Another door flew open, and through it came a bloodies guard, clutching his slashed throat. Stan stepped into the doorway without missing a beat, Stewart slowing and letting Ed and Roger continue to lead Steele to safety. Stan fired a single burst from his weapon, and then was sent reeling backward, chest torn open by two slender cuts. Seifer Almasy started to move through the door, and then leapt back as Stewart hosed the entrance, bullets slamming into the doorway and forcing the CITU commander back behind cover. Stewart continued down the passage, throwing a grenade behind him to discourage pursuit.
Seifer stayed behind cover as the trio of surviving bodyguards fled with Steele, and after the ear-popping grenade detonation, he pressed a finger to his ear.
"Back gate, they're headed your way. Do your thing!"
Ed and Roger ran ahead of Steele as Stewart followed behind the trio, and charged toward the back entrance. They hurried down the hallway connecting with the rear, intent on escaping, but the fleeing terrorist and his bodyguards did not miss the fact that one of the walls suddenly erupted into flame. Roger spun toward the wall as Stewart and Ed continued on with Steele, and the lingering bodyguard opened fire, bullets slamming into the flaming wall.
An instant later, the wall burst open, roaring fires shooting through it and blasting the bodyguard, intense white fires blasting him into ash in an instant. A figure leapt through the opening, his body wreathed in flames as he turned toward the fleeing terrorist.
"Quit running!" Nash shouted, brandishing the crimson-edged variant of the Revolver, fires blazing along its length as he started down the hallway. Stewart fired at the advancing Elemental, causing him to sweep an arm before him and duck, creating a white-hot wall of fires that vaporized the bullets, melting them into liquid that splattered past him. However, the brief burst of fire gave Steele all the time he needed to kick through the rear entrance alongside Ed. They dashed down the alley, Stewart right behind them, and hurried toward a parked car. Ed ran around to the driver's side, Steele opening the passenger door.
The report of gunfire filled the alleyway, and Ed lurched, stumbling back, and collapsed to the pavement. Steele spun in the direction of the gunfire, and saw Stewart walking down the alley, sub-machinegun raised to his shoulder, staring at Steele down the iron sights.
"Stewart!" he shouted "What the hell are you-"
"Drop the weapon, Steele!" snarled the treacherous bodyguard. Steele paused, glaring at his subordinate, and then suddenly dove into the car, slamming the door. Gunfire raked the vehicle, shattering windows as Steele stabbed his key into the engine and gunned it, throwing it out of park and driving forward.
"Stewart" continued firing, scything his weapon low, bullets tearing through the vehicle and puncturing a tire as Steele drove out of the alley toward the main street. He continued after the fleeing terrorist, pressing a finger to his ear as he ran toward the parking lot in front of the building.
"This is Kinneas!" he shouted. "Steele is moving toward the perimeter! GCPD, stop him!"
Irvine Kinneas, who for the last three months had been named Stewart Nikes, rushed into the parking lot and leapt into a pickup truck, his own personal vehicle, and gunned the engine. He turned the vehicle around and shot out of the parking lot after the fleeing terrorist.
"You are not getting away, you son of a bitch!" Irvine growled.
All the information that he had gathered and all the intelligence that had been assembled regarding Steele had pointed to several important things, among them that he was connected with New Way's transportation system, and that he specialized in kidnappings and human transport.
In other words, if Crell's New Way insurgency had had any hand in Selphie's disappearance, Steele would know.
Irvine had waited three months to bag this terrorist scumbag. He was not letting him escape now.
Allen Steele had made several upgrades to his own personal vehicle, among them an enhanced frame able to take a tremendous amount of abuse, and a tank of nitrous oxide boosters just in case he needed to make a strong getaway.
As he came around the corner, his vehicle not controlling very well due to the damage to the rear right tire, Steele saw a pair of Galbadia City police cars parked across the road, a half-dozen men in the blue-black jackets and vests of GCPD officers behind them, firing weapons as soon as they saw him. Steele accelerated, flipping the switch that gunned his nitro boosters, and jetted toward the police officers. Their bullets pockmarked the windshield and hood, but none punched through, and they had to leap aside as the car slammed into the police vehicles, the reinforced frame keeping Steele's vehicle intact and relatively undamaged as the nitros gave him all the power he needed to knock the police cars aside like toys.
Steele flew down the street as fast as he could trying to maintain control and avoid ramming any other vehicles. He glanced into his rear-view mirror, and made a mental plan to ditch his ride and hoof it on foot to another cell. He knew where several more were, scattered across the city, so he figured he'd be safe once he got rid of the damaged car -
Something slammed onto the hood of the vehicle, and Steele looked forward, half-expecting the treacherous bodyguard to have come out of nowhere like the rest of the SeeDs had been.
It wasn't Irvine, however.
All he saw was a black shadowy coat whipping in the air, glimmering red eyes glowing like blazing coals in the night, and a hand reaching back over the figure's shoulders, gripping the handle of a sword strapped to its back. Terror cut through Steele as he saw those eyes, boring into the pits of his soul, and that sword, long and slender, nearly five feet in length but less than an inch and a half across, including scabbard.
There was a flicker of motion, and the figure hopped forward onto the roof of the car as it suddenly started spinning wildly out of control. The entire vehicle seemed to drop half a foot, and terrible vibrations and the horrific screech of a metal edge being scraped up the length of the pavement filled his ears. Sparks flew from the windshield as something skittered past the front of the car. It took Steele a second to realize what it was, but the understanding filled him with a new shock and horror as the car ground to a halt.
The attacker had sliced the engine block and the front third of the car completely off.
Steele stumbled out of his car, and turned, starting to run away from the figure standing atop his vehicle. He didn't look back, instead simply running, clutching his bleeding shoulder as he ran down the street.
He heard the whisper of footsteps behind him, boots tapping the pavement, and he pushed on, fear flooding his mind. He had to escape, he had to run, he had to get the hell away from whatever the hell had just destroyed his car-
Something grabbed his shoulder, and Steele was suddenly spun around with incredible force, whipping around as if he'd been grappled by a giant. As he spun around, he caught a glimpse of the figure behind him, before an iron-hard hand clamed around his throat, lifting the man up into the air, his feet flailing wildly in the air.
"You're Steele," commented the figure as he clenched his fingers around the terrorist's neck, squeezing. Steele gagged, trying to breathe. His fingers clawed at the hand around his neck, trying to loosen the fingers, but he might as well have scratched at a stone statue's embrace. The choking terrorist managed to look down at his attacker, but only saw shadow for a moment, before he realized that the man wore a wide-brimmed black hat atop his head. The figure inclined his head, raising the brim of the hat so he could look directly at his victim.
Steele looked into the burning red eyes, ones that promised pain and violent death in the near future, and started shivering in horror.
The man released his grip slightly, letting Steele manage to breathe, but only enough so he wouldn't choke to death in his grasp. The terrorist stared at those horrible eyes, gates into hell itself. He was peripherally aware of other features the man wore, barely visible in the dim light: a thick, short, and closely maintained beard running along his cheeks, jawline, and chin, an equally thick and short mustache barely visible beneath the shadow that the hat cast, and dark hair dropping to the shoulders and below.
"Steele," the man growled, eyes cutting into the terrified terrorist. "I have something to ask you. Something very important."
Steele gasped for air, not directly responding, though his terrified expression told his attacker that he would cooperate. The man brought the terrorist in closer, almost nose to nose, and Stele could only see those blazing eyes, filling his vision, the passages to hell inviting him in. He could almost see the demons laughing, begging to have their play with him when he arrived.
The figure held him close for an instant, and a single sentence filled the air, snarled, spoken with all the viciousness of a monster unleashedfrom the deepest, darkest pits.
"Where is Doctor Odine?"
Irvine's pickup careened around the corner, in full pursuit of Steele, when he saw that the car was stopped in the middle of the street, the front third of it sliced in half, and with the driver being held up in the air by someone he'd never seen before. The sharpshooter slammed on his brakes and threw the door open, leveling his sub-machinegun at the pair.
"Drop him now!" Irvine snarled, a bestial roar that sounded nothing like his usual tone of voice. The figure holding Steele paused, and looked in his direction, and Irvine froze as he saw the blood red eyes, glowing in the night, the only visible feature on the man's face; the night light was too dim for anyone to make out facial features at their distance. Irvine saw those eyes, and he suddenly remembered Quistis' briefing on what the one survivor of that massacre in Timber had reported.
"Friend of yours?" the figure asked Steele. Before Steele could respond, he looked back to Irvine. "You want him? You can have him."
His fingers released the choking terrorist, and he started to drop back to the ground. But then, the man's right hand, gripping the sword over his right shoulder, moved. Irvine saw the blade flicker, coming out of the scabbard with impossible speed, lashing down-
And Steele hit the pavement, his head rolling away from his body.
Irvine stared in shock for a moment, at the speed behind that attack, and at how the blade had moved back to its wielder's scabbard just as fast as it had left. That technique . . . over-the-shoulder iaijutsu? Impossible . . . .
The second thing that Irvine realized was that Allen Steele, his best and only chance to find out what had happened to Selphie, was dead.
"You son of a bitch!" he shouted, and his weapon opened up, spraying fire at the figure. There was a sudden motion from the man, and he was skittering to the side, faster than anything Irvine had seen, leaping across the pavement. Irvine whirled, stepping out from the truck, knowing that against an opponent with melee weapons, he needed more maneuvering room over cover.
But then the man reversed direction, leaping up into the air and over Irvine's stream of fire, dropping down toward the sharpshooter, one hand gripping the blade as he dropped down. Irvine dove aside, and heard the faint whisper of displaced air, and the clash of heavy steel on pavement. He came out of the dive into a roll, whipping around at this attacked, and saw the open door to his truck sliced clean off, a deep gouge in the pavement where he had been standing. The attacker had already returned his sword to its sheath, and spun on Irvine, rushing forward.
The sharpshooter then remembered the name that Quistis had given them, and flashed back to what he had learned from Squall a year ago.
The Chimera. Is this Centra's ultimate soldier?
The sharpshooter dropped into a crouch as the sword flashed past him, the blade barely missing his head as he rolled aside, firing in mid-motion. The Chimera weaved and stepped, seeming to dance out of Irvine's line of fire with blurring movements of his legs. The sword came off his shoulder once, then twice, each time intercepting a bullet he wasn't fast enough to dodge.
How the hell was he doing that? But Irvine didn't have time to contemplate the man's shocking speed, as his weapon ran empty. The Chimera, sensing Irvine's sudden weakness, shot ahead, hand ready to whip out his blade and finish the sharpshooter off. Irvine hopped back a step, and his hands flew into his bodyguard jacket's pockets, pulling a pair of pistols. He leveled them at his attacker, and fired two quick shots, but even as he was depressing the triggers, the Chimera shifted direction, leaping to the side and out of Irvine's line of fire.
Irvine tracked him, only to see him leap up at a lamppost and kick off, flying back toward Irvine with his weapon ready to leap out. The sharpshooter hurled himself back and away, just as the blade slashed down, cleaving through the pavement. Irvine land on his back, and rolled away, his momentum carrying him into a backflip that ended with him on his feet, firing both weapons at the Chimera. The figure ducked and weaved again, blade flying out to intercept strikes, red eyes boring into Irvine as the first seven rounds were stopped or dodged with ease.
Then he cut to the right, then jetted forward, spinning around to Irvine's left. The sharpshooter followed the attack, and instinctively dropped in to a duck and sidestep as the blade slashed out at him in a diagonal cut, slicing through the pavement. Irvine shot ahead into a shoulder-block against the Chimera's chest, shoving him backward, and snapped the pistol in his left hand out wide, the metal catching the blade as the Chimera brought it around in a quick strike without sheathing the blade. His right hand rose, pointing the pistol beneath the brim of his hat, his eyes, and fired.
The man's head snapped back, and there was the screech of a ricochet - how the fuck? - and then the Chimera's right hand flew across in a powerful slug that knocked Irvine almost off his feet, sending him stumbling backward. He managed to raise both weapons again, but as he did so, the Chimera took a step backward, sheathing his weapon, but no longer gripping it.
"You have junctions." He cocked his head to the side. "SeeD?"
Irvine nodded, never lowering his weapons. He stared at the Chimera, eyes never wavering from his blood-red eyes, glimmering beneath that hat. Slowly, the Chimera nodded.
"Apologies. SeeD isn't my enemy." He observed Irvine. "Non-official cover agent, I'm assuming. But . . . Why did you fire at me?"
"You killed that man," Irvine snarled. "He was the only one who knew . . . ."
"Knew what?"
"What happened to Selphie . . . ."
The Chimera was silent for several moments, considering what Irvine said.
"Selphie?" he asked. "Who was she?"
"None of your business," Irvine muttered. "But now, with that man dead, I don't-"
Sirens could be heard as GCPD and CITU vehicles started closing in on the gun battle, and the Chimera looked aside. He glanced back at Irvine, and then turned.
"Hey, wait a second!" Irvine snapped, butt he Chimera was already moving, running across the street with that same impossible speed, ducking into an alleyway. Irvine pursued, shouting for him to stop. He entered the alley, and then came to an abrupt halt.
The Chimera was gone.
-
Oh my.
And that's all I've got to say about that chapter.
This is going to be my last update beforeI go back to my regular updating schedule. I should have another chapter of Mako ready to go by Friday, and then I'll be back to regular Thursday/weekend updates.
In the meantime, How 'bout I pimp my forums? Because I have forums on the sitenow! Just check my profile, it should be right under my name. Swing by there, I'm usually available to answer questions or discuss whatever.
Until next chapter...