THE MARK OF AN ESPER

Rating: PG
Genre: Adventure
Setting: A mix of FF89 landscaping, and FF10
Main Characters: Zidane

Note from the Authoress: This is loosely based on FF6, but set all over all the games. It's my new FF fic

Part 2

Zidane walked through the halls of the palace, thoughts running through his head. He had no information about this girl. She could be any age, and who knew what she looked like. She could be a Burmecian, Guado, anyone. For all he knew she could be a moogle. He left the palace, and slumped against the wall, glancing around the street. One glance was all he needed to feel even more depressed. This wasn't even a busy day, and there were, he estimated about three hundred and fifty seven women wandering around. And that was not including moogles, as it was practically impossible to distinguish male moogles from female moogles. He groaned inwardly. This was going to be a long day. At least the climate was reasonably warm. He would hate to think how long it would take if they were wandering around in coats, and jumpers. He stood up and started to wander the streets, glancing as discreetly as he could at the upper right arms, looking for some strange symbol.

Starving, and with no luck in his search, Zidane headed to the industrial district. He needed food. And he needed to think. This searching was completely stupid. He was sure he had probably missed some women out, and checked others arms about ten times. He wandered into the café, and collapsed at the bar. The barman looked over at him.

"Rough day, Zidane?" Zidane nodded glumly.

"I'll say." he muttered, as the barman got his usual order for him.

"So, tell me what's going on." Zidane took a bite from his food.

"I'm looking for a woman." He got a blank look from the barman.

"That's never been a problem for you before" he said, obviously vaguely confused.

"Yeah, I guess. This ones different though. I'm looking for a girl with a strange mark on her arm. The only clue I've got is that there's a high probability that she's in Lindblum somewhere."

"Ah, I see. Well, that is quite a problem, indeed." The barman turned away, and started to polish some glasses. Zidane felt angry. That's it? He thought. No advice or anything? Thanks a lot. Dejected he turned his attention to the other customers. It was the usual rabble of workers on their lunch breaks, poor souls moping over their drinks, and people who couldn't be bothered to cook. Zidane was dismayed to find he could name every single person in the bar. Damn. He was spending way to much time here. He had seen them in here loads of times. All except one. Over in a corner, hunched over a bowl of soup, completely covered by a cloak. Strange. Very strange. It was impossible to identify the person, impossible to even tell if it was a man, woman, or even human. He turned back to his food. Well, there's strange folk everywhere, he supposed. He figured that he had better finish his food, and resume his search. But, just as he thought this, the door to the café burst open. Four men entered, the leader glancing around the room, taking everything in in one glance. He pointed wordlessly at the cloaked figure. Zidane saw one of them draw a sword. He glanced at the figure, and saw that it had stood, and was standing back against the wall, trembling slightly. Without even thinking, he jumped up, and positioned himself between the figure and the men.

"Stand aside" the leader spat at him.

"No, actually I don't think I will" Zidane said pleasantly.

"Why you little…" The leader drew a sword as well, and Zidane, realising what he was planning stood neatly to the side, just as the leader thrust at him. The leader looked surprised for a moment, then realised that he had a clear path to the cloaked figure. Damn, thought Zidane, but before he could stop the leader the others were on top of him. He punched one, knocking him out with one blow. He managed to trip the second, but the third came at him, sword drawn. Zidane glanced over his shoulder. The leader had reached the cloaked figure, who seemed to be fighting against him, to no avail. The leader was dragging it outside. Zidane dodged a swipe from the third man, and, picking up a stool, smashed it on the thirds head. The second stood up shakily, but Zidane just turned and smashed the remainder of the stool on his head. With all three unconscious, Zidane ran after the leader.

He ran out of the café, and saw the leader up ahead, the cloaked figure still struggling against him. Zidane drew his daggers and darted after the leader. The leader turned, still holding the cloaked figure. His expression was one of annoyance, and anger. He drew his sword, pushing the cloaked figure to the side. Zidane guessed he would have to act quickly, before this mysterious cloaked person ran and he lost them.

"Sorry, can't waste time" he said merrily, dodging a swipe and bringing the handle of one of his daggers sharply down on the leaders head. The leader collapsed to the ground. Zidane turned to the figure. It ran. However, Zidane had been waiting for this. He darted in front of it, grabbing its arm. The figure struggled, and Zidane let go of the figures arm. The figure, not expecting this, tripped backwards, the cloak falling from its head. Zidane stared at the figure. It was a woman. And she was beautiful. She clambered to her feet. Zidane, sensing she was about to run again, took hold of her arm again. She didn't struggle this time.

"Don't worry. I won't hurt you" Zidane murmured, staring at her. "Come with me, its best if we get away from here before those losers regain consciousness." He led her down the street.

After they had gone a dark figure approached the unconscious leader. He groaned, opening his eyes and looking at the figure.

"Fool. Can't even capture one small girl."

"But, that boy. He was a fighter"

"And there was only one of him. I do not allow slackers to live." Before the guard could protest, a knife was run deeply into his heart. The figure looked up from the leader's carcass. "You may have won this round Zidane, but I will win next time."

END OF PART 2