Chapter Three
I'd only ever been to Deling City once before, during my time with Squall, and from what I could recall it was the epicentre of sleazy businessmen and shady dealings. From the city entrance, the casinos and shopping arcades glittered in the distance like golden sunlight reflecting on the water's surface. Firion was as stoic as I expected, not speaking much, but preferring to outline our plan of attack through gesticulations with his hand. I was instructed to cover the city entrance and look out for trouble while the others made their way in. I expertly swept my rifle back and forth over the grassy plain, knowing full well that the trouble lay inside the city's boundaries. Unfortunately, my lady-impressing side had chosen the wrong time to take over.
Gus was the last to pass through the gate, and I followed suit quickly. The city was unearthly quiet—although the battles were taking place in the centre, I couldn't hear the usual intermissions of gunfire which signified a battle. We sprinted past the car-rental outlet, which was dark and unlit, and in the near distance I could see the traffic signals where we were to set up base. They were still functional, but appeared to be stuck on green.
"Are we there yet?" I asked.
"Shut up," Firion retorted. His nerves were clearly frayed from the tension, but I could see he wasn't the kind of person who treated every mission like fun. Gus ran ahead of us to the base of the lights, and threw the black sack he was carrying down next to it. I watched, intrigued, as he picked the lock on the panel which held all the traffic controls, opened the hatch, and began attaching wires to his palmtop and vice versa. For all I knew about computers, he could have been making the whole thing up.
Firion arrived last, and sulked over to a lamppost. He extracted a cigarette from a pocket in his uniform, put it between his lips, but didn't light it. As I watched his animations, he rolled the little stick around in his lips, chewing the end. Obviously some sort of nervous habit.
All four of us turned our heads as we registered the high-speed screech of tires on tarmac. A SeeD Garden car gunned round the corner, went into a ninety-degree handbrake turn, and jerked to a halt. The driver's door opened, and one of the SeeDs from Squad B leapt out. I recognized him immediately.
"S'up, Nida." Even though I was in uniform, I kept my hat on, and I tipped it in his direction.
"Uh… We got problems," he managed.
"What? What sort of problems?" Firion demanded.
"Our captain's gone berserk. Killed everyone. We don't know what triggered this, but he seemed really pissed off about something." Nida paused to take a long-forgotten breath. "Cid told me that Seifer would be trouble."
"Wait, wait," I interjected. "Seifer?"
"Yeah," Nida confirmed. "Our regular pointman pulled out at the last minute cause he got poisoned in the Training Centre. We didn't have any other choices."
"That bastard," I murmured. "I knew he'd pull some crazy stunt like this."
"Shit!" The incensed Firion tore the cigarette from his mouth, tore it in two, and hurled it across the street. He turned to Nida, regaining his calm. "You gotta carphone I could use?"
Nida gestured toward the car with his head. "There's one in the back if you need it." Firion needed no extra encouragement. He jumped in the back of the car almost immediately, and we could clearly hear him talking into the reciever. "Yeah? Put me through to Headmaster Cid. Who do ya think it is? The fairy friggin' godmother? Yeah, I'll hold… Sir? Sir, we've got a really big problem. It's Squad B's commander. He's flipped out. He's gone—"
Abruptly, the few pockets of light from nearby houses that illuminated the road dissolved into blackness. Firion leapt out of the car, phone clenched in his hand. "What the hell happened?" he shouted in a voice underscored with panic.
"Yo, man!—I think I cut the wrong wire…"
"DAMMIT!" Firion yelled, and hurled the phone to the ground in abject disgust. He looked at the other four of us in turn. "Now what the hell are we gonna do?"
"Look," I said, "we need to get someone to get up there and provide some cover. If Seifer's completely whacked out, someone needs to help the other squads out."
"It appears he's going for the Galbadians," Nida put in.
"Even so," I said, "you can never be too sure." Firion's expression switched to one of almost bewildered consideration.
"You've got a good point," he proclaimed. He looked up at me. "You. You go."
"Me?" I blurted out. "Look, I wasn't suggesting myself or anything, it's just—"
"Look, you're the one with the fancy weaponry, so you're clearly armed for the job. And, more significantly, this was your idea, so you might as well be the one to do it." He leant back against the Garden car. "Well, what are you waiting for?"
"Maybe you should do it," I suggested. "You are the squad leader, after all."
"Hey, I've got a better idea," Nida said. " Why don't you both stop acting like a pair of pussies and both do it." Firion and I looked at each other with glances that registered that get-me-out-of-here-now feeling.
"I'm game if you are," I declared.
"Fine," Firion replied. He thrusted himself away from the car, and produced a pistol for the folds of his blazer. I cast a glare toward the other members of our squad.
"You'd better watch the fort," I said. "Keep watch over the city entrance and the signals here. Gus, if anyone comes through, bore 'em to death with your computer talk."
"You got it!" he agreed. Firion and I began to make our way along the boulevard.
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To tell the truth, I didn't know all that much about Seifer's behaviour. Obviously, I'd been involved in all the business with Ultimecia way back when, when he'd been involved with the sorceresses, but I'd spent most of my time before that at Galbadia Garden. I only transferred to B-Garden after we defeated Ultimecia, because I needed to take the field exam there before I could graduate to the status of SeeD. A few discussions with Selphie revealed bits and pieces about his character—as, by coincidence, they both took the same field exam. Seifer had a deep-rooted dislike for Galbadian soldiers, which had emerged during the exam. He would frequently burst into aggressive tirades toward his foes, wading into groups of them wielding his Hyperion, and this failure to control his violent urges consequently cost him SeeD status. I made a mental note to speak to Selphie when I returned to the Garden.
I registered a small glint in the corner of my eye as we headed past the presidential residence. It came from the bushes which garnered the sidewalk. I turned my head ever so slightly, careful not to arouse any attention. There it was again—the reflection of moonlight on adamantine black metal. Instinctively, I lunged into Firion.
"GET DOWN!" I yelled. There was the briefest of flashes from the bush, and a split-second later, a car parked on the other side of the street combusted in a bright, petrol-fuelled fireball. The blackened doors were hurled into the air and crashed down about fifteen feet down the road. I rolled over, pistol in hand, and drew a bead on the copse where the grenade had come from. With my aim centred, I squeezed the trigger, firing off a shot in the direction of the grenadier. There was a muffled yelp, and a rustle, as the body collapsed into the undergrowth. I jumped to my feet.
"Come on, we gotta get moving," I said. "The reinforcements'll arrive soon."
"I'm not going anywhere," Firion insisted.
From across the other side of the street, a figure in hi-tech combat armor rounded the corner. "Over there!" he yelled. He was wielding an MP5 submachinegun, and I figured that there were no negotiations. I dove in a combat roll behind the nearest saloon car, and gunfire erupted from the soldier's direction. Bullets splattered into the car and the nearby pavement, pockmarking the side doors and erupting in shreds of concrete and tarmac. I peered stealthily around the car, and could see the soldier advancing toward me. He wasn't stupid, I could see. I readied another pistol in my left hand, and cocked the hammer. Just a few more metres…
All it needed was paramount timing. With the soldier in my peripheral vision, I leapt out sideways, firing both pistols in semi-automatic. The rounds slammed into the Esthar soldier's torso, and the inertia of the impact flung him into a nearby bench, which splintered as he slumped into it. I clicked the clip release on the side of each pistol, and the expended clips fell to the pavement with a metallic clink.
"Right, I'm going after Seifer," I declared, holstering the pistols and readying my assault rifle. Firion cowered behind the car, shivering, and I knew he was staying put. If I knew anything about Seifer, he'd be heading for the presidential residence.
Unsurprisingly, as I headed in the direction of the ominous structure, an Esthar army truck careened round the corner. Shit, I've got no cover! I switched my rifle to single-shot mode, and fired one round into the vehicle's front tire. Chunks of rubber detached from the burst tire, and sparks were thrown off the front wheel as the wheelrim scraped the ground. The truck's braked emitted a high-pitched squeal as the driver forced it to stop. Soldiers emerged from the back—only the standard grunts, I informed myself, as I saw their pickaxe-shotgun hybrids. Without hesitation, they fired toward me, and the buckshot rounds sparked in the asphalt. Good job those shotguns are for short range. I fired a burst at the nearest soldier, which pinned him to the side of the truck. His cohort obviously knew to take advantage, and retrieved the other's shotgun. He fired both weapons at me in consecution, but to no avail, as the fall-off was too great. I readied a 40mm grenade in the over-and-under grenade launcher attached to my rifle, increased the trajectory, and pulled the trigger. The grenade floated lazily toward the army truck, spewing white smoke, and detonated just behind the truck. The force of the explosion wasn't enough to deter the other soldier, but red-hot shrapnel splashed in his face, and he flung himself to the ground. The truck meanwhile, was shunted forward by the explosion, and jack-knifed into the back of the car Firion was hiding behind, which in turn was hurled into a nearby lamppost. My job done, I scanned the nearby terrain for more, and, determining that there weren't, I continued toward the Presidential Residence.
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The wrought iron-gates of the residence were decorated with two new additions—patrolling Esthar soldiers, clearly guarding their most important capture. Leaning flush on the wall that ran around the residence, I whistled to attract the nearest guard's attention. He appeared to cast a puzzled glance to his colleague, who nodded as if to agree to him checking it out. He began to investigate the nearby area, and when he reached me, I grabbed him from behind and clamped a hand over his mouthpiece. Without hesitation, I thrust an elbow into his temple, and the body went limp. The other guard, thankfully, had not perceived any commotion, and so I extracted a combat knife from my uniform and hurled it toward his neck. The impact was almost perfect, and he dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. I ran over to him and searched the body for any important keys, but found none. As quietly as possible, I loosened the handle of the gate, and it glided open with a soft creak. Scanning the gardens for any cameras, I headed to the front door. I was quite startled to find it already open, and a door guard lying in an uncomfortable heap on the red carpet. Oh no…
Okay, I'm gonna stop there, because I like leaving chapters ending on cliffhangers. Sorry there wasn't much humour in this chapter, but I figured even Irvine couldn't crack a joke under this pressure. Chapter 4 coming soon!.
