Author's Note: Ye saga continuef. I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VIII and all associated characters and concepts are copyright and property of Squaresoft Inc. This story is intended purely for humorous purposes and is not for the profit of the author. Egypt is copyright and property God. Please don't sue/smite us.

Ten points: find the "Aliens" quote.

CHAPTER TWO: AN EGYPTIAN SITUATION

"Oogh . . ." Raijin muttered, rubbing his aching head. It was hot! And bright, he added belatedly, squinting. It looked like it was about noon, and the sun was glaring down on all three members of the Disciplinary Committee, who were slumped in the meager shade of a large water jar.

Hold on a second . . .

"Guys?"

Aw, damn. They looked so sweet like that, unconscious together, but he had to wake them up. This wasn't exactly the place where they'd all been last- and he didn't like the looks of some of those guys walking around with spears and shields.

"Come on, guys," Raijin urged, shaking Fujin's shoulder. "Wake up, ya know?"

The woman stirred and sat up. Awoken by her motion, Seifer climbed to his feet, shading his eyes with one leather-gloved hand. His first words echoed their thoughts as well:

"What the fuck?"

The humongous clay jar that they were standing in the shade of was only one of at least twenty-five, situated in no particular order all along a stone-paved quay. A long, wooden ship with a massive, painted rudder and giant rectangular sail was pulled up alongside the docks, and dark-skinned men wearing nothing but what appeared to be flimsy white linen kilts and sandals were loading bundles of materials and crates into it. A similarly attired man in a more expensive grade of sarong and impressive-looking red cloak was shouting something, and gesturing with a folded whip.

The ship itself was floating serenely in a calm, brilliant blue-green river, across which the opposite bank could be seen. That also had a stone quay, which was loading more ships like the one that Seifer and his posse had in front of them. Blocky, one-story sandstone buildings and irrigation ditches leading to them could be seen there, as well as something that looked like a giant catapult, which dipped a woven basket into the slow-moving water. Hordes of people could be seen, all dark-skinned like Raijin- but, unlike their resident Thunder God, all the men wore white skirts in the manner of the dock workers. The women were all in tightly wound sheath dresses, and both sexes sported leather sandals and dark, thickly corded hair. Numerous children could also be seen, running here and there through the scene, playing with stick toys or performing minor tasks- water carrying seemed to be the most common. Everyday life, no doubt.

But to a triad of SeeD candidates from Balamb Garden, the scene was utterly bewildering. There wasn't a white face in the crowd, and no variation from the universal clothing theme. Certainly no trenchcoats, boots, vests, eyepatches, long-sleeved shirts, or even pants were in evidence. Raijin shook his head. "What's going on, ya know?"

"We're- we've fucking gone back in time!" Seifer hissed, staring at the scene.

Raijin was confused. "What?"

Seifer shook his head. "Look at it! Just look at it, you moron!"

A familiar voice spoke up from the ground. "TRUE."

Confused again, Raijin looked down. A miserable-looking Fujin was huddled at their feet, cringing backwards into the shadow of the jar. Her face was contorted, and she was plastered closely to the giant amphora, doing a fairly accurate impression of Zell with a bad hangover.

"Fujin? Aw, Fuu-chan, don't start talking like that again, ya know?" Raijin pleaded.

"NOT GOING- not going to." She replied, grimacing. "But . . . Seifer's right. It looks like we were caught by the fringe effect of time compression. We have gone back in time . . . way back."

Seifer looked down at his uncomfortable friend. "Fuu- why are you hugging that jar?"

"JAR- the jar is cool," she explained. "There's cold water inside, and that helps."

"Helps what, ya know?"

"Helps beat the heat, dumbass!" Seifer muttered sarcastically. He knelt down and laid his palm against the clay. "Hey, you're right. This is cold."

Soon all of Balamb Garden's Disciplinary Committee was clustered around a clay water jar, doing their best to hide themselves from the streams of Egyptian slaves and hired workers. For, after much deliberation, Egypt was the only solution to their location problem. Now they were faced with another one: how the fuck did they get there?

"Fujin?" Seifer said. "You seem to know something about this time compression stuff. Care to offer a theory?"

Fujin nodded. "TOOK THEORY OF MAGIC, SECOND YEAR." She coughed, spat twice, and resumed a normal tone of voice. "Didn't you?"

"I think," Seifer said.

"CUT?"

"Every time."

"THOUGHT SO." She coughed again, and switched voices again- this time to an officious tone eerily similar to Quistis Trepe's. Seifer instinctively winced. "One of the things discussed was the supposed 'Ultimate Magic'- the spell which allows only the most capable and powerful sorceresses to literally compress time, mashing past, present and future into one huge mass. The spell has no realistic use, and is never on record as being attempted, so we only have a handful of theories concerning it.

"The basic mechanics of the spell you two already know, but what's mostly unknown is the 'GPF,' or geo-placement factor involved in the process of compression. While being cast, the power center of the sorceress is very literally spread across miles of terrain- meaning that, unlike a lot of powerful spells, the actual location of the active components determines the spell's potency. In summation, the spell of compression is a physically defined spell- in other words, one with a definite location. It has a core, a middle, and a fringe, and things are effected depending on how far away they stood from the spell."

"That's right," Seifer mused, "You said something about not being caught in the fringe of time compression. But what caused this?" He jerked a thumb at the boat, where several slaves were being unloaded by yet another short dark-skinned man in a skirt.

"EXPLAIN," Fujin continued. It was odd to hear her speaking in complete sentences, and even her normal voice was hoarse from disuse. "Leonhart and his gang were most likely caught in the core area of the spell, allowing them direct access to the actual time-compressed world, without suffering any of the effects of the compression itself. The middle or mantle area, encompassing the corridor where we started from among other places, is the suspension area- anything in that area is frozen in time until the compression is undone, and thus passes through the spell unharmed. The fringe, where we were unfortunately caught-" here, she levelled a one-eyed glare at the blonde leader, who glared right back- "is the area where the components of the spell are compounded. In other words, that is where compression actually takes place. Anything living in that place is absorbed into time, falling through the numerous periods of history."

Seifer blinked. There was a short pause.

Then, "Okay," he said. "I'm beginning to think there was a reason you didn't talk much."

"BESIDES BAD VOCAL CHORDS?"

"I just thought you had permanent laryngitis."

"SILENCE! NOT ALL. Until compression is safely accomplished and 'sealed,' the only way to escape your destination is to find a hole in the fabric of time. Once it is sealed, however, you're stuck where you are. Period."

"Uhhh . . ." Raijin scratched his head. "Is it, ya know, sealed yet?"

Fujin squinted at their surroundings. "HONEST? NO CLUE. Probably not, though, if chickenwuss and co. are shooting for Ultimecia's ass on a platter."

"I think you're mixing metaphors again," Seifer pointed out.

Fujin gave him the one-finger salute. "YOU, FUCK OFF. HAD BAD DAY."

"Um, guys," Raijin said, "I think you should, ya know, look at this."

Unfortunately, whatever Raijin wanted to show them would have to wait. Several days of intense action followed by four or five hours of being jerked around by the Ultimate Sorceress had finally had their effect: Seifer blew up. "YOU'VE had a bad day!" He snapped. "Try being shoved around by some dykey Sorceress who gives you the heave-ho right after you've just junctioned her to a whole new power source! That wasn't exactly fun. Or try getting off the high of killing a powerful GF by having your ass kicked by ANOTHER one whom you accidentally gave the LAST one's sword to!"

"Guys- GUYS!" Raijin repeated, more loudly. "I really you think you should look at this, ya know?"

But Seifer was too caught up in his tirade to notice. "Try getting stomped by puberty boy, his chick- MY ex-girlfriend, no less- and chicken-wuss: not once, not twice, but FOUR times! Try being ME, for once, and you won't be complaining about having bad days!"

However, Fujin was not about to be outclassed. "THE HELL! I got MY ass kicked, too, AND my favorite GF was almost stolen! And on top of that there's the fact that I'm PMSing WAAAY too much right now, and somebody keeps stealing my eyepatches and spiking my drinks with hallucinogens-"

"Why not?" Seifer smirked. "Somebody wants you to lighten up a little, obviously."

"BASTARD!" the Wind Goddess shrieked, straightening up and reaching for her shuriken. "IF WEREN'T SORCERESS' BITCH, BEAT INTO SUBMISSION!"

"You goddamn-!" Seifer's hand went for his gunblade. "Secure that shit, soldier! That is fuckin' insubordination!"

"GUYS!" Raijin shrieked, doing an impromptu Fujin impression. "GUARDS! HERE! NOW!"

"Huh?"

"What?"

Dancing up and down wildly, Raijin indicated the twelve or thirteen stony-faced, skirt-wearing, short guardsmen who were glaring at them menacingly. Each carried a rectangular wooden shield and a spear, although a few bore short knives as well. Their apparent commander, another kook in a cloak, carried a short sword and tapped it meaningfully against the edge of the jar.

"Uh-" Fujin and Seifer jumped up, quarrel forgotten. Fujin's face instantly hardened into "Monosyllabic Disciplinary Committee Psycho-Bitch" mode, and Seifer's mocking grin became a tried-and-true evil smirk.

"Stand back, and I'll clear these bozos in ten seconds," he said.

The captain shouted something at them.

"What?" Raijin asked, squinting at him. "We don't speak that. Could you, ya know, say that in English?"

"ENGLISH. NOT INVENTED," Fujin snapped. "SEIFER. NO TROUBLE."

"Why the hell not?" the Knight retorted, using the 'Seifer' equivalent of a beg.

"GUARDS. MORE. MAKE WAVES."

"Ah." Seifer looked at the guards, scrutinizing them. "The pile tactic. Anybody got an- no wait, that's too noticeable. How 'bout a- shit, that wouldn't work either. Do either of you have some status magic? I'm fresh out."

"I got a couple Zombie and some Silence, but only a few, ya know?"

"NEGATIVE. CASTING OBVIOUS."

"No shit!" Seifer snapped. He was thinking quickly. "Can't kill them, can't cast magic- hey Fuji, give me a kick, would you?"

"WHAT?"

"Kick. K-I-C-K. Like when Dincht used the bathroom in the girls' dorm and left the toilet seat up, and you came afer him wearing cleats?"

"OH. WHY?" Fujin looked puzzled.

Seifer grinned. "'Cause puberty boy put me damn close to a Limit Break, that's why. Give me a good kick and I'm likely to go over the edge."

"AURA?"

"We have to save those," Seifer reminded her. "Come on! Chicken?"

"NEGATIVE!"

As Fujin was winding up, however, a noise interrupted them. "Urk- guys-"

Once again, the two beheld Raijin with a problem- this time, pinned against a wall by three guys, a spear held to his throat. The commander, obviously annoyed, seemed to be daring them to ignore him again. He was gesturing towards a small alley, the only apparent exit from the dock area.

Ten minutes later . . .

"That sucked, ya know?" Raijin muttered, rubbing his sore head. "They didn't have to kick me, ya know?"

"Face it, buddy," Seifer said philosophically, "You're just extremely kickable. Like Tilmitt's annoying or Trepe is oh-shit boring- same thing. Hey, Fuji-" this was directed to the woman who was lagging behind them "-hurry up, will you? We have to find some shelter or something."

"SUN . . . HOT . . ." the albino panted. "SKIN BURNING . . ."

Raijin shrugged. "Come on, it's not so bad, ya know?"

"FOR YOU." To emphasize her point, Fujin held up both her hands- the backs already scorched bright red by the strong ultraviolet waves that beat down on them. "ALBINO, BURNT. CRISPY."

"Hyne!" Seifer swore. "Forgot about that. Come on, Raij, we gotta get out of the sun, fast." Instinctive Commander instinct- or Selective Guy Memory- had completely obliterated the memory of their earlier spat. Grabbing Fujin's arm, he steered the Committee down a covered alleyway between two small buildings. The albino sighed with relief as the heat and light abated, gingerly rubbing her fingers across the scorched places. "BETTER."

As they walked farther down the alley, Raijin drew a bit closer to his friends. "I don't like this place, ya know? It's kind of scary . . . "

"You're telling me," Seifer replied. One hand moved ever-so-slightly towards Hyperion's sheath, and he squinted into the shadows ahead. "Damn near deserted, too. Either it's lunch hour . . . or it's not a good place to be."

"(Hey, freaks! Hold it right there!)"

"What the-!" Seifer yelped, jumping back. Half a dozen muggers (or the ancient Egyptian equivalent thereof) had just emerged from the shadows, carrying knives. Three more came from behind, and soon the Disciplinary Committee was hemmed in on all sides by a gang of rather unpleasant-looking heavies, who might have been menacing if any of them had stood over 5'3".

"MUGGERS!" Fujin snapped, reaching for her shuriken.

Seifer snickered, grinning. "Chickenwuss size, too. Just right for punting."

After a moment, Fujin grinned too. "CHICKEN NUGGETS."

"(All right!)" one of the heavies yelled, oblivious to the fact that his three targets were about 4 1/2 thousand years ahead of him, language-wise. "(Hand over all your valuables or we'll open you up like grain sacks!)"

"What's he saying, ya know?" Raijin wondered.

"Dunno. Probably the usual stickup line," Seifer shrugged. "We'll know in a couple of seconds. The monkey-looking short one's already impatient."

"(NOW!)" the head mugger shouted. Met with uncomprehending looks, he snarled and motioned to his second-in-command. "(Get the normal one first, then the pale one, then the foreigner. Make sure they feel it.)"

"(Yes sir.)"

"Raijin! Coming your way!" Seifer warned.

"(Give us your money, dog!)"

SMACK

"Fore, ya know!" Raijin laughed, as the first mugger went sailing, looking like about a thousand miles of bad road. The others blanched, but were urged forward by their leader.

"Looks like they want a fight," Seifer said, unsheathing Hyperion. Even in the dim alley, the silver blade glittered menacingly. "Well, they'll get one."

"CAVEAT EMPTOR," Fujin added, drawing the Kamikaze shuriken. "ZAN!"

She whirled the blade above her head and sent it spinning towards the first man, blue and white sparks ringing it to form a halo of energy. The shuriken ran up the length of the man's body, splitting his skin open, and then sailed through the air to return to her hand. The victim yowled and collapsed, the flicks of cold energy dancing over his skin and burning him red where they touched. Flecks of his blood already dotted the ground. Nicely browned, Fujin-style.

Seifer had been set upon by three assailants simultaneously, but for a lifetime SeeD candidate, that proved no challenge. Ducking under the first one's wild knife thrust, he rammed one gloved hand upward, collapsing his opponent's throat with a single move. Turning, he swung Hyperion in a broad arc, pressing the trigger a split second before it connected with the second man. He, too, went down, clutching his shattered arm and screaming. The third was swiftly dispatched with a quick stab to the chest.

Raijin and Fujin, combining their skills and devastating array of attacks, quickly annihilated the remaining muggers. All told, the battle took about 15 seconds. At the end of it, the three regrouped, sheathing or putting away their various weapons.

"Come on," Seifer said testily. "We have to get out of here."

"NOT OUT?" Fujin asked, a little worriedly. "SUN, MURDEROUS."

Seifer sighed. "No, I think we've all had enough of this Egyptian shit for one day. Let's find someplace to crash and then figure out what to do."

After a few hours of searching, they found a place- an abandoned, ramshackle hut outside of the main populated area, a bit small and broken-down but still preferable to the scorching, midday heat. Seifer had wound up loaning Fujin his beloved trenchcoat to help ward off the sun's rays, but by the time they finally got indoors, she was looking more than a little burnt.

"PLAN?" Fujin asked, after knocking back her third Potion. The burns had almost been healed completely, but the wind elemental was still looking tired and pained. "IS- cough- is there some kind of plan for tomorrow? Or even today?"

Seifer leaned against the wall, brow furrowed in deep thought. "Can't say I've got one. We're out of our time, out of our geographic location, out of our society, and definitely out of our depth. Any ideas?"

"I have an idea, ya know?" Raijin piped up from the other side of the room.

Seifer groaned. "Oh no. Not again."

"C'moooooon," the Thunder God whined. "I won't quit this time, I promise, ya know?"

Fujin glared at him with her one eye. "PROMISE!"

"I did, ya know?"

"STICK TO!"

"I will, I will!" Raijin said, grinning. The posse's leader sighed.

"Guess I have no choice . . . count me in." Raijin grinned even more.

"Great!" With that, he started to mark out a twelve-square board with a piece of chalk. "Elemental and Trade Rule 1, ya know?"

"OF COURSE." Fujin cast a small handful of Elemental Tokens onto the board, and then marked the symbols where they landed with her own piece of chalk. "POISON, EARTH, WATER. BAD."

Now committed to a game of posse-style Triple Triad: Extreme, Seifer withdrew his deck of cards and began making his selections. Hmmmm . . . there were some good ones he hadn't used yet . . . smirk.

Raijin went first, putting down a Behemoth card on a non-Elemental square.

ULTIMECIA'S CASTLE

"DIE!" Squall Leonhart roared. As he sliced down with the blue blade of Lionheart, Sphinxara screamed and bucked, sensing its own imminent destruction split seconds before it happened. The monster howled again, more loudly this time, as it disintegrated into glittering shards.

"Hyne," Rinoa gasped, pulling the stopper out of the glass flask of Potion, "What was that thing?"

"The first of Ultimecia's minions," Zell replied, stretching to get the twinges out of his muscles. "Sphinxaur or Sphinxara. Actually, I think they're the same thing."

"Magic or GFs?" Squall asked. Surprised, the other two looked at him. He was staring intently ahead, eyes riveted on seemingly thin air.

"What?" Rinoa asked.

"We've just broken Ultimecia's first seal," Squall said, eyes still staring at nothing. "We have been given the choice to unlock one of our eight sealed powers. I say magic or GF summons. Which one?"

Zell and Rinoa looked at each other. "GFs!" they said in unison.

MEANWHILE, IN ANCIENT EGYPT . . .

Ten intense minutes later, Seifer Almasy played the Edea card for the final victory.

"YOU WOULD." Fujin pouted, pushing her small pile of gil coins over to him.

Raijin's reaction was similar. "Awww man, that's not fair, ya k- HEY! My feet are disappearing!"

Okay, maybe not so similar.

The posse gaped as one as Raijin's form twisted into a blur of colors and vanished, whirling away like used bathwater down some invisible drain.

"What the hell?" Seifer yelled. Then, "Fuu! Rai! Holy shi-!"

And in a whirl of coloration, the world shifted and disappeared around them . . . the first restraint was broken, and reality shifted again. Time Compression had not been completed, and the posse was still caught within it- utterly subject to the machinations of the universe. What now?

But, if several severely disgruntled and banged-up ancient Egyptians were anything to go by, the machinations of the universe were about to have another thing coming.