A/N: Chris Ganale inspired this, so blame him. I've decided to include a bit of a "soundtrack" with this story, so expect to see me include suggested tracks at the beginning of the chapter. There's an extended track listing in my profile that I'll update with each chapter.There isn't much I can suggest for this chapter's events, but I'll reccommend "Unyielding" by Mothergoat forthe final sequence at the end between Rinoa and the Chimera.
Chapter 5: Motivation
"Excuse me, Doctor?"
Kadowaki looked up at the man standing in the doorway to her office, and smiled.
"Hello, general," she said, standing up. "What can I do for you?"
"I need access to your medical records," Randolph replied, stepping into the office. Kadowaki blinked, surprised.
"What kind of records?" She didn't have a good reason to restrict access to such records from him; the Commander had cleared Randolph to have access to most of Garden's classified data.
"DNA records," Randolph explained. "You should have a detailed record of the DNA patterns of all cadets and students, correct?" Kadowaki nodded.
"What is this for, exactly?" she asked.
"I'm doing some . . . research. There's a possibility that some of the orphans that Garden has taken in may be descendants of Dollet soldiers killed in action. I'm wanting to compare our DNA records with Garden's and see if I can find some matches."
"Of course," Kadowaki replied. She glanced at her watch and frowned. "I've got some rounds to do; you can use my terminal if you want."
"Thank you, Doctor."
"You're sure?"
"Yes, Zell, I am." Kadowaki's voice was filled with clear impatience.
"No, you're absolutely sure?" Zell asked.
"Yes."
"Positively."
"Without a doubt."
"Because I don't want this thing to get infected, and you don't know what kind of bacteria was loose in that lab and got all over the glass."
"Zell, you're fine. Now get out of here and go natter at someone else, hm?"
Zell managed a huff and crossed his arms, and then winced as he stretched the cuts stretching across his bare back. The SeeD pulled on his short-sleeved jacket and hopped off the examination table.
"Thanks, Doc," he said with a smile, and walked out of Kadowaki's examination room. The doctor sighed and shook her head, and hit a couple of keys on the wall-mounted terminal.
"And that should be everyone except Rinoa . . . ." she said to herself. She looked over some of Zell's medical data, and heard footsteps enter the examination room. Glancing up, she smiled and nodded to Rinoa.
"Come in," she said. "Sit down. I just got finished with Zell."
"How is he doing?" Rinoa asked, and Kadowaki shrugged.
"As well as he can expect after diving headfirst into combat, as he always does. I'm not sure how he keeps coming out of combat like that so unscathed, though this time he was lucky. His junctions protected him from most of the damage, and nothing important was punctured or cut open. Just a lot of broken glass."
"Nothing unusual happening with his blood or anything?" Rinoa asked, and Kadowaki shook her head.
"If you're worried he got infected with any of that residual Guardian Force essence, you can rest easy," she assured Rinoa. "Zell got plate glass from a display case lodged in his back and a couple of shotgun pellets in the leg, but was otherwise fine. Same for Irvine. That glass vial that stabbed into his shoulder didn't do any real damage and didn't have any GF essence in it either. No one's in danger of becoming an Elemental."
"That's a relief," Rinoa said, sighing. Kadowaki smiled and nodded.
"Now, judging from the report, you got out of that mess relatively uninjured," Kadowaki explained. "But, medical procedure demands that I evaluate you. But, since you're uninjured, or look that way, I'm going to ignore that and move onto the psych evaluation. How are you feeling?"
Rinoa didn't respond for a few moments, and finally managed a tired chuckle.
"I feel like hell," she admitted. "Exhausted, weary, and shocked, I guess. I wasn't expecting to find . . . Well, what I saw in there has been classified by Quistis and Seifer, so, I can't say."
"Really, now?" Kadowaki answered. "I can't give you a decent evaluation unless I know what it was you encountered in there. Well, aside from fairly vague psychological mumbo-jumbo that you'd get from any self-important psychiatrist."
"Sorry, Doctor," Rinoa managed a weak smile. "Its classified."
"I can call up Quistis right now and get it unclassified if I want," Kadowaki replied. "So, let's go around the whole bother and justtell me." Rinoa hesitated, and managed a long, profound, and exhausted sigh.
She told her. The encounter with the Requiem and the Chimera, the discovery of who it was in the armor, and the subsequent psychotic response he had had to her use of his name, and then, almost as an afterthought, the fight with Hans Odine, before calling for SeeD support troops and evac.
Aki Kadowaki had encountered a lot of insane medical situations in her lifetime, and had even saved several people who had been beyond any other doctor's reach. She'd seen a man lie dead on the table for two minutes before his body had been revived. But what Rinoa told her was beyond anything she could have imagined. Reviving a corpse that had been dead that long would have been a medical miracle, but the fact that the armor did little more than turn the dead person into a rampant, insane killing machine that could control countless Elementals in a bid for worldwide power was . . . It revolted Kadowaki that a body would be defiled like that. And, of all people, it was Squall who it was being used on. Kadowaki had no idea what to say as Rinoa finished the story.
"So," Rinoa said quietly, her entire body slackened, as if reciting the story had exhausted her even more than the battle with Odine. "What's the evaluation?"
It took Kadowaki a minute to sort through everything she had just heard and consider its effects on Rinoa. And even then, after her learned medical evaluation, she honestly only had one thing to say.
"I'm not sure what to say," she answered. "I haven't dealt with a psychological situation quite like this one before. To have someone you felt so strongly for returned to you as something like this . . . ."
"I know," Rinoa said, shaking her head. "I just . . . I feel really tired right now. I need to think about this." She moved forward, off the examination table, and Kadowaki noted something in her voice and motions, and understood instantly. She hadn't encountered anyone who had experienced quite so extreme an encounter and walk away so unfazed by it, but she had seen people consumed by that deadly mixture of burning vengeance and solemn responsibility.
Kadowaki reached forward and grabbed Rinoa's shoulder, stopping her.
"Rinoa," she said quietly. "Before you go, I have to ask you something."
"What?" Rinoa turned her eyes back toward Kadowaki.
"You're thinking he's your responsibility, right?" Kadowaki asked, and Rinoa closed her eyes.
"Yes," she whispered. "I have to find him . . . And I have to kill him."
"Why?" Kadowaki's words struck Rinoa, and she opened them, staring at the doctor. The answers to her question were obvious, painfully so, but for all her efforts, Rinoa couldn't vocalize them. She simply stared at Kadowaki, unable to speak.
"Because I have to," she finally answered, firming her jaw. "Because that thing in that armor was Squall. That's all the reason I need."
Quistis sighed, and took a sip from her coffee, closing her eyes. They hurt from staring at the computer screen so much, but she'd been forced to endure the mild aches over the last few hours, considering the import of what was happening.
As of that moment, hundreds of CITU agents were scouring every possible cell location, safehouse, and hidden cache that Crell's insurgent army had been using, searching for the location of what the documents recovered from the lab had identified as the "Elemental Aerosol Device" or EAD. Locating the thing was paramount; if the Requiem was on the loose, and Crell's insurgents utilized it, then the insane machine would have an army of hundreds of thousands of mindless Elemental slaves at its control, every one exactly like Odine, only much weaker, but still a match for SeeDs.
Quistis did her best to classify the Requiem as just that: a machine. A failed experiment that got loose. A weapon that had turned on its users and was threatening humanity.
Anything but the cold, painful truth: it was Squall.
Quistis opened her eyes, shook her head, and stared at the computer screen before her, sitting on her desk. She had reviewed the footage archives recovered from the labs around the time of the attack and the Requiem's escape, and what she had found startled her, and confirmed Seifer and Nash's theory as to how the Requiem escaped. Just before they had entered the facility, two figured had appeared in the hallway outside the Requiem's cell: a small girl and a tall man clad in black, a scythe balanced across his shoulders.
If Hades and Hyne were responsible for the Requiem's release . . . Then its presence was all part of their greater plan. Their ultimate goal was ripping apart the barriers separating them from Carpasia, the city of dreams, and using its power to unmake all of existence. But the question was, did Hyne and Hades release the Requiem as a distraction, or was it on the loose and working alongside them to further their goals? If it was the former, then stopping it was important, but they couldn't forget the real enemy they were facing. If it was the latter, then they would have to kill it as soon as possible to stop Hyne.
But the idea of killing Squall - again - to prevent him from actually helping Hyne almost made her sick thinking about it.
It didn't help that, while the ShadowNet was being unraveled and terrorist bases were being singled out, that Crell's forces were disappearing. Many of the bases and safehouses that had been located were either striped bare or filled with corpses, those of Crell's own troops, slaughtered by unknown forces. They weren't killed by the Chimera; it was like someone else was killing them off. Evidence - frightening evidence - was indicating that the killers were actually their own comrades. Corroborating evidence showed that many of Crell's cells had been augmented by minor Elemental soldiers, which would be dominated by the Requiem. If Crell's own soldiers were being used to massacre their human allies by that armor, then that meant that the Requiem was wasting no time taking out those who could pose a threat or provide information. That implied a deliberate campaign, not haphazard massacres, which meant the Requiem had a plan.
None of this is looking good, she thought, shaking her head to clear it.
Something shifted in the room, and Quistis looked up, her eyes narrowing as she sensed something else. The acute physical and mental powers she had gained over a year back had been steadily growing stronger, and now she could almost sense life forces and the thrumming of energy and magic around her. That made the new presence in her office unmistakable.
"Hope you're not just dropping by to play one of your cryptic games again," she remarked, and Alucard chuckled, harmless smoke playing from his pipe as he leaned casually against a display case.
"My information helped last time, didn't it?" he replied, and she looked up, glaring at him with sufficient intensity to wipe the smug smirk of the Guardian's face.
"You could have just as easily given us the location of the lab yourself," she muttered. "And you could have given us an idea of what we were up against." She pushed herself up off the desk, still staring at him. "You could have told us they took his body from Garden and twisted it into a war machine!"
Alucard stared at her for a moment, and then took his pipe out of his mouth. As she watched, he flicked it casually, almost dismissively, and then looked to her again.
"Ramuh is dead," he stated bluntly. Quistis blinked for a moment, uncertain of what he meant, and then the import of his words crashed over her like a tidal wave.
"The Guardian of Storms?" she whispered, all of her anger draining away. Alucard nodded.
"Hyne has killed him," he explained. "The only good news is that its not permanent; we Guardians are physical manifestations of natural forces. You can no more destroy us than you could destroy those very fundamentals of the universe. But by "killing" us you can remove our active presence for millennia or more."
"And Hyne is taking them out now," Quistis whispered, remembering Edea's words. She had felt disturbances . . . .
"Destroying them now while she has full power, so they will not be able to bring their power to bear on her in the near future," Alucard replied. "Or . . . Even more likely, she is eliminating competition."
"Competition for Carpasia," Quistis added, and Alucard nodded again.
"She is getting ready for the endgame," he explained. "We must be ready. Do not get caught up chasing down petty enemies, or involving yourself in unnecessary emotional obligations. Existence itself is at stake here, and we must all be prepared to stop Hyne if and when she makes her move."
Quistis was silent for a moment, and she read the import in his words.
"You mean, kill Serra if Hyne makes her move."
Alucard did not answer, but simply stared at her long and hard, before vanishing into nothingness.
Silence filled the office in the wake of Alucard's departure, and Quistis sat down behind her desk, exhaustion creeping over her. She settled back in her chair, and glanced at her phone, to see a flashing red light on it, indicating someone was trying to call her. She blinked, wondering with some embarrassment as to how long it had been flashing. Quistis hit the glowing light, and activated the speaker phone.
"Headmaster?" came a voice, from one of the technicians in the information analysis department.
"Yes?" she answered. "You have something for me?"
"Yes ma'am," replied the technician. "We've managed to partially tap into Varines' ShadowNet, using some of the intel we got off the ruined lab complex. We've intercepted several transmissions indicating that Crell's forces were moving to recover a high-value weapon at one of the trainyards at Timber."
The aerosol bomb?
"Timeframe?" she asked, and the technician paused.
"From what we can tell, within the next few hours they're moving to recover it."
"We have to beat them to it," Quistis whispered. "Thank you. Good work." She cut the line and immediately picked up the phone itself from its cradle, and started organizing a strike team.
"You tell me to be careful, and here you are, running headlong at that lunatic like you're trying to kill him with your forehead," Serra muttered. Seifer sat back in his chair in the Galbadia Garden cafeteria, crossed his arms, and gave her an indignant snort.
"I didn't get killed, did I?" he responded. Serra mimicked his snort and arms-crossed-leaning-back pose.
"But you did run headfirst into a wave of superheated air and got your clothes set on fire," she responded. "I don't think even Zell is that crazy."
"Oh, you don't know Zell," Seifer replied, shaking his head. "He would run headfirst into a wall of flaming ninjas. With spikes. And motorcycles, which are also on fire. And dinosaurs. Wielding cans of-"
With a quiet splut sound, Serra's sandwich, and the pungent mix of ketchup, mayo, and mustard it contained, stuck to Seifer's face, effectively silencing him. He sat there for a second as the sandwich and sauces slid down his face, before reaching up and grabbing it.
"Oh, you didn't." Serra, a completely serious expression on her face, which masked the smile underneath, calmly scooped up a spoonful of the sludgy mashed potatoes Galbadia Garden loved to serve, and held it threateningly at him.
"You wouldn't dare."
She did.
Seifer used up half a container of napkins wiping the disgusting mixture off his face, all the while enduring Serra's giggling laughter.
"Of course you know," he growled. "This means war."
Her tray was up in an instant, blocking the hot dog Seifer launched her way, and she kicked back away from the table and turned to run, the CITU commander grabbing a plastic container of pudding and ripping it open, with a roar of "Get back here!" that would cow many a brave soldier. Ripping it open, Seifer let fly at Serra as she ducked behind someone else in the cafeteria. The pudding splashed over the man's uniform, and he looked down, his expression shifting to a dour pout as he looked back up at him.
"Oops," Seifer muttered as general Randolph stared at his uniform, and then sighed.
"It needed cleaning anyway," he remarked as he looked at the white staining his olive battle dress uniform. Without another word, the General went for a box of napkins on one of the tables, and Seifer glared at Serra.
"Using a human shield. How dishonorable." Serra snorted.
"I didn't need him, with your bad aim," she answered, Seifer was taken aback, but had no food nearby with which to retaliate.
"You started it," he managed to say, and walked back toward their table. Serra followed, and as they sat down General Randolph, uniform partially cleaned, walked over to their table.
"May I sit?" he asked, and both occupants of the table nodded. The General pulled up a chair and sat down, and then looked over their trays, and saw that most of the food they had been eating had been transformed into ammunition.
"Sorry about the mess," Seifer apologized, but Randolph raised a hand, and shook his head.
"Its fine," he replied. Randolph was silent for a second, and settled back into his chair. "Seifer, you know I'm not a subtle person."
"Yeah," Seifer replied. "Direct and straightforward, kinda the way I do things."
"Exactly," Randolph replied. "So. Seifer, I'm your grandfather."
The General might as well have stood up, grabbed his chair by the legs, and swung it down on Seifer's head hard enough to break it in half, considering his shocked expression. After a few moments he managed to blubber out something incomprehensible, but the questions he was trying to articulate were fairly clear.
"I told you that story about the Dollet soldier who went to war and never came back to see his son," Randolph explained. "I said the man was my subordinate, and I was correct; he was my son, Trayus Almasy. That was your father."
Seifer stared at Randolph, and in the intervening silence, he continued.
"It is customary for Dollet soldiers to use only their first names following their ranks, as a sign of humility and loyalty to their commanders. My last name is Almasy, and you were given his surname by your mother when you were born. Trayus was killed in action four years ago . . . Ironically, he died during the war between Galbadia and Garden, at Centra, where you were the commander of the Galbadian forces."
"Why didn't he . . . ." Seifer managed to say, and Randolph shrugged.
"We didn't know you were there, much less that you were commanding the enemy forces. I didn't know he had fallen until the entire battle was over; he was killed in the final assault on Galbadia Garden."
Seifer stared at Randolph for several moments, remembering what had happened in that battle. He had been the one to organize the Galbadian defenses specifically to inflict the maximum number of Dollet and Garden casualties. So, in a way . . . He had engineered his father's death.
A sweeping tumult of emotions rolled through Seifer at that moment, and he could only close his eyes, sit back, and shake his head.
"Damn," he muttered, and that word spoke volumes regarding his thoughts to the other two people seated at the table.
The sun was starting to rise above the cliffs overlooking Dollet, the brilliant yellow light setting the sea ablaze. The swirling ocean winds cut through the air surrounding the black-clad figure as he stood atop the cliffs, staring into the rising sun and paying no heed to the intensity of its light.
The Chimera heard her approach up the side of the cliff long before she arrived. Beneath the hat, he managed a slight inward smile; he knew she was coming, and knew she would be punctual. After all, Rinoa wanted answers, and she had naturally zeroed in on him for those answers. So, when he had left a brief phone message on her machine in her quarters, she had called him back and agreed to meet him out here, on the cliffs overlooking the ocean and the city. This place was quiet and distant; perfect for an equally quiet and distant meeting.
She reached the top of the ridge, and stood behind him, staring at his back, her hair buffeted by the swirling morning winds and squinting in the growing yellow light.
"So, what?" she asked immediately, being as blunt as possible. He managed a chuckle at that, and turned toward her, fixing her with his crimson gaze. He noted that she wore loose trousers and a short-sleeved black shirt, with the Revolver sheathed prominently on her hip . . . As if she was doing what she could to emulate Squall's pragmatic behavior.
"You said you wanted to talk with me," she continued. She held her hands out wide. "So, let's talk."
"Hm," the Chimera replied, cocking his head to the side. "Right. What shall we talk about, then? I'm sure you have questions."
"How do I kill him?" she asked, once again bluntly, and the Chimera blinked, before nodding.
"I see. You want to put him out his misery, then." He looked down at the ground for a moment, and then managed a chuckle. "Why?"
"I'm the one asking the questions here," she countered immediately, clearly impatient. He looked back up at her, sighed, and crossed his arms over his chest, giving her a patient expression, the kind a parent would give a child who was wrong and would soon enough realize their mistake. They matched gazes for a moment, and Rinoa finally sighed explosively.
"Because he's Squall, and if there's anything even resembling a pile of brain matter in your skull, you'd understand why that's all that needs to matter to me." She crossed her arms over her chest, and stared right back at him. "That's it. I'm going to kill him because I have to."
"Do you believe you can?" the Chimera asked, and Rinoa was surprised by the simple question.
"What?"
"Do you honestly believe you can kill him?" he asked again. "And I do not mean merely in terms of physical skill and ability, either. I want to know if you can honestly muster the conviction you would need to drive that sword through his heart and end his suffering." She narrowed her eyes at him, face twisting in anger.
"Don't even presume to think you know if I can -"
"Do you?" he growled suddenly. "Tell me, Rinoa Heartilly. Can you kill Squall Leonhart?" He started walking toward her, angling his body forward, in a clearly threatening stance. "Can put an end to the hellish life that creature is leading? Can you strike him down?"
"Of course I can!" she replied, and slid into a guard, grabbing her gunblade's handle and standing ready. "Why are you asking me?"
"I don't know," the Chimera answered, stepping toward her, and she saw the white glimmer of his teeth as he started to smile. "Maybe I doubt you can do it. Maybe I don't think you're worthy of killing him. Maybe you're just not able to do it because you're hung up on the life of a man too weak to keep himself alive to see you again. A worthless shell of Chimera genes taken over by a monster because he lacked the conviction and the backbone to do what he had to do himself."
"Fuck you!" Rinoa snarled, and she shot ahead, drawing her weapon in a flash of enraged frenzy. The Chimera snapped his won blade off his shoulder, intercepting the Revolver's stroke. He hopped back as she spun low into a sweep with her left leg, and shot ahead in a rising right kick. The foot slammed into his left-hand gauntlet, boot ringing solidly against metal, and the long sword snapped across, slashing at her head. She hopped back a step, the Revolver rising and intercepting the horizontal cut with deft ease.
The Chimera's barked laugh cut through the morning air.
"Squall Leonhart, the worthless, pathetic martyr, throwing his life aside for what?" He shook his head. "To end up revived and in the state he is in now? Unable to even understand who and what he was? A waste of useful flesh and machinery."
Rinoa leapt backward, face contorting with anger at the Chimera's continued insults toward Squall's memory, and charged ahead, gunblade spinning over head and swinging out in a vicious left-to-right cleave that would have knocked the sword out of any other swordsman's hands. The Chimera' blade, however, cut down and intercepted Rinoa's weapon with a jarring impact of metal on unyielding metal, and the weapon in her hands shook, despite her junctions. She was surprised by the blow, and was shocked by the speed of the Chimera's counter. In a single smooth, deft move, he slapped his sword down atop hers, stepped forward, grabbed her right wrist in his left hand, and sent his right hand forward, punching her in the gut. Rinoa was hurled backward, as if struck by a concrete pillar in the stomach, and rolled away across the stone cliff-top.
"And an even more important question is why he would even care for someone like you!" he snarled. "Squall Leonhart wouldn't want someone dwelling on his past. He wouldn't want someone grieving over his death!" He narrowed his eyes at her as she pushed herself up, coughing violently.
"Squall Leonhart is dead. You haven't accepted that fact, which is half the reason you want to kill that creature! As long as you don't have a corpse in your hands, you can't move on."
Rinoa ran forward, blade in hand, and launched a thrust at the Chimera, whose weapon flew across and intercepted the stroke again, a deft one-handed block that knocked her weapon out wide. His left hand flew ahead, at her throat, and grasped her neck tightly. He lifted her up into the air, and his right hand flickered, sheathing his sword. She struggled vainly against the cold, unyielding metal of his gauntlet as he held her up high.
"Once again, helpless," he muttered, his voice becoming tinged with darker tones. "Useless, worthless, and helpless. Just like he was. You are a slave to the Chimera's legacy, just as much as he was. Trapped within his memory, grieving for his loss, and looking to kill that corpse because of some misguided sense of duty and as one final method of saying goodbye."
He released her suddenly, letting her fall to the ground, and stared at Rinoa as she gagged, clutching her throat. After a moment, he backed away, and then turned back toward the cliff, cutting off visual contact with her. He heard her shuffle to her feet, and retrieve her weapon, but did not sense her preparing to attack.
Good. She was rational enough that she understood.
"He is dead, Rinoa," whispered the Chimera, his words a sudden and startling departure from the snarls and growls he had been issuing moments before. "You wanted to kill him because you haven't let him go, not because he wouldn't want to keep living on in that state."
Rinoa glared at his back for several long moments, and then sheathed her weapon. She closed her eyes, and pondered what he had said. He was right; since she had encountered his body in that room, she had wanted to kill him, but not because she wanted to be merciful . . . Rinoa had wanted to kill him so she could say goodbye to him, in a way that they hadn't been able to speak at his death in Balamb Garden.
"You . . . You weren't attacking me or uttering contempt toward him," she said, understanding. "You were drawing out my emotions, making me attack you. Why?"
The Chimera didn't speak for a moment.
"I wanted to judge how much you cared for him," he answered finally. "If you loved him, and loved him enough to kill him out of mercy, then you wouldn't let me insult his memory like that. That's how I could tell . . . You have the heart to put an end to a suffering man's misery, but you just needed the proper motivations. Do not hold his memory for grief, but hold it and take joy from what you knew."
The Chimera turned toward Rinoa, and managed a smile at her. An instant later, a flash of insight struck her, and she then knew what he meant.
"Do you understand now?" he asked, and she nodded.
"Killing Squall because I still grieve for him would let Griever win," she explained. "But by killing him as a mercy, and cherishing what we had, we both defeat Griever, which honors the whole point behind his death in the first place."
"You're smarter than most people give you credit," the Chimera said, nodding. He walked past her, and started down the path leading up the cliff.
"Now, you just have to follow up on those words," he added. He paused and looked back to her. "Can you kill the Requiem now?"
"Yes," she answered with all the conviction she held. "I can. And for the right reasons."
"Good." He turned away from her and started down the path, disappearing into the shadows the mountain cast against dawn's rays.
-
Oy. This chapter was soemthing of a challenge to get out. I had a lot of trouble making the dialogue between the Chimera and Rinoa work.
Until next chapter...