Accept that some days you're the pigeon, and some days you're the statue.
- Dilbert's Words of Wisdom

He had stopped to catch his breath after a few minutes of running through the corridors, and had come to realize that he was alone. No one had followed after him, having chosen their own paths to take, possibly without thinking. Frowning thoughtfully, Squall thought back to where they had been before they had unwittingly split up, and concluded that there had been multiple pathways to choose from.

Unfortunately, no one had thought to go in the same direction.

His frown turning into a scowl, Squall debated whether he should keep moving in the direction he had been heading in before deciding to head back and locate the others. There was strength in numbers, and he didn't like the idea of being left to his own devices against those things. At the same time, he needed to know that everyone was alright.

Having made up his mind, he began to backtrack, 9mm in one hand and the 5.7mm in the other, keeping alert just in case one of those things tried to attack him again.

No combat knives, very little ammunition left, and no gunblade… the SeeD Commander thought to himself as he retraced his steps, turning a corner through the corridor and making his way down the hallway. What else could possibly go wrong?

In any other situation, Squall would have been junctioned, regardless of the fact that he had just completed a mission and the world was too busy recovering from their own casualties to start fighting one another. However, after discovering the long-term effects of Guardian Force usage, the Headmaster of Balamb Garden had limited their use. For the ones who had been affected indefinitely, they were to begin writing in journals, so that when they did use the GF's they would still have something to remember their past.

And since we don't have those stupid journals yet, the Headmaster doesn't want us to use Guardian Forces until after we've returned to Garden, Squall thought to himself bitterly. This is something that I wouldn't want to remember. Thank you Cid.

As he made his way back to the crossroads that they had split up at, Squall heard a noise in front of him. Raising the firearms he held, Squall searched his surroundings for the cause, deciphering the sound as footsteps. They were too light to be human, and his stomach tightened when the realization dawned on him.

A dog, similar to the one everyone had split up from, was standing on the opposite end of the corridor, staring at him. It was missing one of its ears, but there was no way Squall was going to stand there and critique the creature. It was faster than one of those walking corpses, and he didn't know if he would be able to shoot it head on if it were to charge at him.

Still, it was only one dog. He had enough ammunition to handle the four-legged creature, but not enough to waste without cause.

Just as he was getting ready to shoot, however, more foot falls could be heard from behind the canine and two of it's brethren came up along side of it. One of the dogs was missing half of its face and the other looked as though it really shouldn't be walking on one of its legs.

"Shit." Squall muttered as he levelled the 9mm, frowning deeply as he did. If he missed, then it meant he had fewer bullets to work with, and it could, quite possibly, decide whether or not he walked out of this alive.

The three dogs growled in unison and charged forward while Squall was taking aim. He managed to shoot the one missing its ear through the skull after taking two shots, one of them missing and becoming lodged within the tiled floor. The dog fell forward and did not get back onto its feet.

The remaining two creatures bounded towards him, their four legs helping to increase their speed, even as Squall emptied out the 5.7mm. Throwing it into his pocket for the meantime, he went to assume his casting stance when the dog missing it's face leapt at him, breaking the SeeDs concentration and forcing him to dodge the attack. He landed roughly onto his side before emptying the 9mm in an attempt to shoot the canine, finally landing three shots into it, one into its side and two into its neck.

Quickly climbing up onto his feet, he swiftly pocketed the other weapon as he side-stepped out of the path of the remaining dog. It didn't move nearly as quickly as its brethren, having been crippled from the beginning, but it was still faster than Squall was. The dog growled even as Squall moved back in an attempt to create some distance between himself and the dead beast. It would at least give him the time he needed to cast a spell, even if it didn't do anything.

Squall shook his head of such thoughts and assumed his casting stance, just as the wounded dog began to creep towards him. He grabbed the first spell he could, even as the dog lunged towards him and threw it in front of himself, knocking into the creature and very nearly catching him at the exact same time.

A wave of flames lashed up from underneath the animal, enveloping it in a blaze as Squall fell backwards, having attempted jumping backwards but having been caught off guard at the same time and landing on his back. The teenager sat back up, grimacing as he did, all the while the fire from the Fira Spell running its course before suddenly dispersing.

Squall blinked a couple of times after the spell dissipated before he was able to see once again. The creature was lying on the ground, smoke emitting from its prone form as Squall withdrew the .45 Calibre from the holster on his leg and held it steady as he slowly approached. Whatever was left of the dog's skin was a scorched mess of blood and muscle, and a puddle of the gore was now beginning to ooze onto the floor beneath its body.

Squall took in a deep breath, trying not to gag at the smell of burned flesh as he approached it, weapon ready as he towered over it. The creature did not move initially but, just as Squall moved to step over it, the canine's head snapped back up, growling and snapping as it did. Squall quickly moved his leg out of the dogs biting range before backing up slowly, the dog quickly rising to its feet.

Just as Squall had come to the conclusion that he would have to shoot it, he heard more footfalls and cursed mentally before searching around to see where it was coming from. Just before he could find out, however, the bloody dog lunged forward, intent on biting the SeeD. Squall raised the gun quicker than he would have thought possible before pulling the trigger and lodging a bullet between the animal's eyes. The dog fell a few feet backwards onto the floor, landing on its side.

Closing his eyes, he grasped a hold of a spell and cast it, opening his eyes slowly and searching his surroundings with the info-red-like abilities the Scan spell offered him. The entire hallway was a black and white hue, the corpses of the animals of which had attacked him possessing a blue body signature. This didn't relieve the SeeD one bit – just because they were dead didn't mean they were going to stay down.

He slowly continued down the hallway towards his destination, keeping both his eyes and ears open, never blinking as he moved. Just as he was getting nearer to where he wanted to go, another blue signature darted into his path of view and he stopped, levelling his weapon. He didn't want to use up the last reserves of his ammunition, but he wasn't fast enough to just catch the creature and kill it that way.

Or was he?

An idea floating into his mind, he assumed his casting stance, being careful not to blink at the same time, and concentrated on the spell he needed. Even as the blue blur was quickly approaching, he continued searching for it, hoping that he would be able to find it through feel alone.

Searching through a spell requires plenty of concentration and, normally, the caster would close their eyes in order to find the appropriate spell. It wasn't catalogued inside of their minds through chronological order, by colour or in some neat list grouping the type of spell with it's brethren, but by the appearance the spell took on. This is the easiest way to obtain a magical spell.

However, it is not the only way.

The alternative method is to search the spell out through feeling its properties. Only those highly skilled in magical manipulation like Selphie could do it easily enough. The only exception was Rinoa, who was a Sorceress and didn't need to be trained in the art. By searching through feeling out the spell, the caster isn't looking for a mental image of what the spell does, which is normally how they distinguish one from another. Through this method, feeling the spell takes longer to accomplish. The caster senses the properties of the spell and distinguishes what it would do for them.

Mentally cursing as he felt through each spell, each feeling not granting him the sense that he needed, he continued to press onward. As he pushed past each spell, he could tell that the lone canine was creeping nearer, the blue light that shone from its lack of body-heat telling him this.

Finally, he felt something quicken in his mind as he suddenly found the spell he was searching for and quickly cast it, his surroundings slowing down around him as time sped his movements. Quickly, he moved out of the path of the dogs teeth before coming to a halt. The canine snapped through air, even as the SeeD was coming up from behind. Placing the .45 back into its holster, he grabbed the dog firmly by the neck and head, gripped the struggling animal tightly and flicked his wrist, a resounding snapping noise filling the hallway before the canine fell onto the tiled floor.

It was only a moment later when Squall finally allowed himself to blink, dissipating the scan spell as time reverted back to normal. Pulling out both the 9 and 5.7mm, he checked the clip of ammunition it held before throwing both weapons away in disgust. He checked the .45 Calibre and frowned when he discovered that it only had about 5 rounds left out of the 10 it could carry, and all of his back up ammunition had been inside of the jacket those things had gotten a hold of earlier.

Biting back a curse, Squall moved away from the corpse and continued down the hallway, the .45 raised in front of him, regardless of his near depleted ammo reserves. He finally rounded the final corner that would lead him back towards the hall where everyone had in avertedly split up and, as he moved nearer towards the exact location they had all been together last, his foot falls slowed before they stopped altogether. A body lay before him in a mess of blood and flesh, but this time, it was human.

The body was dressed in a pair of brown pants and a purple vest underneath the familiar looking beige trench coat. There was no hat upon his head; having lost it during the run up the stairs earlier, and his boots still sat upon his feet. His long auburn hair, which normally sat in a ponytail trailing along his back, had come out of its elastic, falling in every which-way position gravity would permit it to fall. His face was inclined in the direction the SeeD was facing. Accompanying the sight were gashes and bite wounds the victim must have sustained, blood smeared along the jacket and the front of his clothes. The bite wounds were consistent to that of dog's teeth, meaning that the dead canines that attacked the lone SeeD earlier must have been responsible for the death.

Squall knelt down beside the body, setting the gun down beside him as he reached over to check its pulse, frowning when his suspicions were confirmed by the missing beat. He was dead.

The SeeD Commander took a deep breath before releasing it slowly. He let go of the wrist he had used to inspect and hung his head in dejection. He clenched his fists tightly before looking back up at the body and sighed once again. "I'm sorry, Irvine," Squall managed to mutter, despite him knowing the Galbadian raised male could no longer hear him. "We shouldn't have left you to fight them off. We should have stayed behind and helped you."

Just as he was about to rise to his feet however, he noticed the body twitch slightly and jumped backwards, landing roughly onto his rear. When nothing else happened, he released the deep breath he hadn't realize he had taken before mentally berating himself. When there was damaged to a specific vein in the body, it caused muscle spasms to occur. That was obviously what had taken place just now.

Squall wasn't in the habit of laughing at anything, having found nothing particularly funny throughout his 17 years of life, but he let a startled laugh escape him, if only to calm his shaken nerves. He had jumped over nothing.

Pulling himself up onto his feet, he jumped once more when something sounded from behind him. Whirling around, he put together that the scream (if it could be considered that), had not sounded human at all. Those corpses had no speech ability except to moan and groan as they walked, so it couldn't have been them, and animals didn't tend to scream. Birds screeched, but he doubted that any would have remained given the circumstances. Besides, it was far too loud to have been one of the winged creatures that commonly appeared in Estharian territory.

Whatever it was, Squall didn't exactly feel comfortable sticking around to find out, so he turned to head in the opposite direction of the sound –

- and jumped back when he saw Irvine standing at his full height of six feet.

Disregarding the wounds the sharpshooter had sustained as well as the pale tones his skin took, he looked as though nothing had happened. But when he lifted his head, Squall knew that the differences in his face would have given him away nonetheless. His eyes were no longer a brownish purple colour, but a milky-greyish-white and his teeth were jagged blackened stumps along a set of sickly-white gums.

Irvine snarled and, even as Squall took another step back, lunged forward, tackling the elder boy to the ground and trying to hold him still, inclining his head downwards in an attempt to bite him. Squall managed to reach up just in time and hold his comrade's head back, keeping the teeth away from him even as Irvine pinned him with his hands, his fingernails seemingly having grown longer than the SeeD remembered them being.

Inclining his head to his left, Squall noticed the .45 Calibre lying where he had placed it down to inspect the sharpshooter's body and, reaching out with his left hand, tried to reach for it, but realized that it was out of the range of his fingers. Suddenly, Irvine nearly managed to bite him, but out of instinct, Squall raised his left hand again, pushing the taller boy's head away from his neck.

Trying very hard to take controlled breaths despite the situation, Squall knew that he wouldn't be able to hold Irvine off for very much longer. The gun was out of the question, since he couldn't reach it and if he even tried to move towards it, Irvine would take the opportunity to follow through with his attack.

Bending his legs at the knee, Squall positioned his feet so that they lay flat against the sharpshooters stomach and pushed hard, causing the taller male to fly over head before he lifted himself up off the ground using his elbows and landed in a crouch. Just as he had steadied himself, he heard a sickening crunching sound and turned to find Irvine lying in a position the human body shouldn't normally have been able to position themselves into.

Slowly approaching the body, Squall noted that the sharpshooter had landed awkwardly onto his neck, having it bent in a very odd angle. One of his arms was bent back at the elbow in the opposite direction it would normally have gone, and his left leg mirrored this position with its knee. Even if the fall hadn't damaged his spinal column, Squall was positive that the corpse wouldn't have been much of a threat after that.

Moving back to retrieve the nearly-forgotten .45, he returned to Irvine's body and began searching through the pockets of his fallen comrade's trench coat. Irvine was a sharpshooter and had experience in handling any kind of firearm. Naturally, he'd have adequate ammunition with him at the worst of times.

In the end, his search had proved fruitless. Irvine wasn't carrying any clips that would be suitable for the .45 Calibre or the 5.7 and 9mm. However, he managed to retrieve two P14-45 LDA's and a USP45 within the folds of the jacket. Ammunition was positioned in other adjourning pockets, probably separated so Irvine didn't accidentally grab the wrong kind of ammo.

After retrieving all three weapons and placing them on his own person, he discovered Irvine's trusted riffle off to the side, where he had originally been lying before attacking. Checking his pockets, he also discovered his assortment of custom-made ammunition, mostly fire ammo. Rising to his feet, he retrieved the riffle before returning to Irvine's side and obtaining as much ammunition as he could possibly carry. Unfortunately, Irvine hadn't held his weapons inside of holsters like anyone else would have, having stashed them within pockets of his trench coat instead, and Squall wasn't about to rob the corpse of the beige jacket. He felt bad enough that he was stealing weaponry, but he would need it in order to survive.

He placed some of the ammunition within his pockets, attaching others onto clips attached to his belt. The P14-45's went into the holsters the .45 Calibres normally sat in, the remaining .45 sitting in his pocket amongst the ammunition. The USP was positioned on an unoccupied place on the belt, and he held the Exeter by hand, as there was no room for it elsewhere.

He unconsciously thought back to when everyone had all been together and alive, just before things went wrong for all parties involved. Zell had warned them, had told them that those things could turn anyone into one of them, and all they had to do in response was to get bitten or scratched by those monsters. Irvine had proved that theory correct when he had climbed back up onto his feet once those canines had gotten through with him. Squall wondered vaguely what would happen if someone hadn't been killed upon initial contact with those things that had become infected, and thought back to the movie he had watched with the others. If Zell had been right about those things turning people, and that information had come from a tacky movie, then it was possible that other elements in said movie could be true as well.

Nevertheless, Squall didn't want to test his theory by allowing those things to get their hands on him and, once he was done reloading and everything was positioned in a convenient manner, Squall took one last look at Irvine before making a visual sweep of his surroundings and moving onwards, Exeter held firmly in both hands.

The SeeD Commander crept cautiously through the corridors, weapon raised and eyes open, searching every inch of the area visible to him, and even some places that weren't. As he combed through his surroundings, he found himself lucky to have avoided infection up to this point. All he needed to do now was stay focused, find the others, report his findings and get everyone out of the building. Hopefully, they would be able to clear a path to the waiting Ragnarok and return to Balamb, to report what took place in Esthar and possibly come up with a plan to stop it.

Suddenly, something caught his attention from behind and the SeeD swivelled around, Exeter pointed down the hallway. He had made certain nothing was out of the ordinary as he continued on down the hall, and he was surprised to find that he had made such an error. The only option that he could think of (besides of course, them popping in out of thin air, of which he was unlikely to believe at all) was that they had been following him all along, keeping behind him and converging on the places he had already marked as safe.

Mentally cursing himself, Squall cocked the riffle, keeping his aim levelled and, before he could take in a deep breath, one of those things shuffled out of hiding and began to slowly move towards him. She was dressed in Estharian garb, her marled flesh matching it perfectly as she continued towards him, half her face missing up to the nose, where cartilage was more than visible.

Another man, dressed in the same fashion appeared behind her, in much of the same condition, except his foot was bent at an awkward angle. In his left hand, he held an axe, possibly something he had used to fight off his former co-workers before they had killed him.

Finally, a third man came shuffling after them, but he was dressed in the military uniform of an Estharian soldier, his helmet having been cracked and blood smeared over the bug-like eye pieces. Judging by the fact that he was still walking, the head injury hadn't been powerful enough to keep him from getting back up.

Squall pulled the trigger three times, surprised to find that Irvine had finished with the fire ammo that had been placed within when he had last seen him, and instead, two rounds of normal ammo, followed by a powerful round of AP ammunition shot forward, pushing the SeeD back onto the ground as a shockwave pushed the shuffling workers backwards, and pushing the first two shots forward and watching as they slammed into the heads of the two men behind the female. The third bullet, far more powerful than the original two, landed squarely into the female worker's chest and blew her entire body apart. Her arms landed onto the wall or floor either side of her respectfully, her legs had been shot out from beneath her and crumbled in a useless mess beneath her. Her head and torso fell backward, landing a little ways from her legs, which were, even now, beginning to create a foul mess on the floor.

Resisting the urge to gag, Squall rose back to his feet before wisely checking the ammunition inside the weapon, finding that there were two silver bullets next in line to blast out of the riffle, and a rusted coloured one left before the weapon became empty. Quickly, Squall loaded three more bullets – all fire ammunition – inside of the barrel before snapping it shut and cocking the weapon again. When he looked up from his work, he took notice that another one of those things was moving towards his location, dressed in technical equipment, telling Squall that the communications sector was located on this floor. However, the creature paused before bending down and biting into the remains of the Estharian worker, breaking skin and muscle with his deceivingly dull looking teeth.

Squall had to further resist the urge to gag and chose to leave before more of those things became attracted to the area. He didn't think he had enough ammunition to take everyone else out.

Running down the hallway as fast as his legs could move, he returned to the door they had emerged from, the broken glass still lying on the ground nearby. Squall shivered from the memory and slowly looked out of the window, readying himself to shoot whatever poked its head back at him. He let out a breath of relief when he discovered that nothing was there.

But then where had those creatures gone to?

Kicking the door open, Squall kept the Exeter levelled and inspected the ground to find shreds of material left from what his jacket had once been. Frowning, he bent down, in hopes of finding at least a few more clips for the .45 he carried and found that luck was with him this time. Two clips had managed to survive, the rest probably having been kicked down the gaps between the stairs from when those creatures had dominated the area. Rising to his feet, he added the clip onto his belt before making his way slowly down the stairs, keeping his back against the wall so that nothing was able to creep up onto him. Even as he turned corners, the Exeter was raised and it was then that he decided to remove one of the P14-45's from within the holsters located just above his boots.

Bending down slowly, but ready to jump right back up given the circumstances, Squall did just that, the cold metal of the gun handle fitting in his hand. Even as he rose to stand at his full height, he checked the ammo supply, nodding as he realized Irvine hadn't actually used the weapon. He figured the same for the other P14-45, but he recalled Irvine having fired rounds from the USP he possessed. He'd have to check the clip when he wasn't slinking around a stairwell.

Just as he reached the landing of the fifth floor, he heard something and froze, both weapons raised in the direction he was facing. A moment went by where nothing happened and, just as he was about to move on, he heard something from above and shifted his position, both weapons facing at either set of stairs. Yet another moment passed before anything else was heard and Squall frowned thoughtfully, trying to figure out exactly which sound was closer.

He received his answer a moment later.

One of the creatures he had been trying to avoid for the better part of the hour was converging on his location from the stairs descending downwards and, when Squall turned to shoot at it, he noticed another one of them, and another, until it appeared as though the creature had rallied a pack. A sound from above caught his attention before he could pull the trigger and Squall noticed the exact same thing from that vantage point.

Squall wasn't the type to run away from a fight, but he wasn't stupid either. He knew when it was time to make a tactical retreat. So rather than start shooting at the creatures and waste his ammunition, Squall pulled the door open and jumped backwards through it, shooting at one of the creatures, who had gotten far too close to the SeeD's liking.

The teenager landed roughly onto his back, against the wall on the side facing the door. He staggered for a moment, trying to keep his footing, before looking down and realizing that, despite the rough landing, he had maintained his grip on his weapons. He didn't stay looking that way for long, especially when he heard the pounding on the door behind him, a door that was unlocked.

Quistis was right, he found himself thinking. These things really are stupid.

He placed the P14-45 back into its holster on his left foot, still gripping the Exeter tightly in his hands. As he began to move away from the door, he heard the familiar moaning and groaning and, turning around, he realized that there was another large group of the things following him. It was almost as if they had been luring him into a trap.

Okay… maybe not so stupid.

Upon figuring that he was outmatched by number, he turned down the hall at a dead run, even as the monsters continued to shuffle towards him. However, before he could make it very far, when his foot made contact with a section of the floor, the ground disappeared beneath him and he barely had the mindset to grab a hold of the ground with his left hand, the right still holding the Exeter, before he fell completely through the trapped door. It seemed as someone had taken out the section of the floor and reinstalled it so that when a select amount of weight was placed upon it, the trap would spring and force whatever it was to fall through it.

I'm pretty sure that this wasn't here before…

Squall felt a bit of weight shift from his right foot and watched, to his horror, that the other P14-45 had fallen out of the holster and towards the ground – right where an even larger congregation of people turned monsters were gathered.

If this was Hyne's idea of a joke, he wasn't laughing.

Above, he could make out the creatures moving towards him and, even though they moved slowly, he suddenly got the impression that time was speeding up when it shouldn't have been. His frown deepened as he looked back down upon thousands upon thousands of those creatures below, all roaming about and eating each other. His features distorting into disgust, he made a quick visual sweep of the room below and realized that he was dangling above the cafeteria.

Nope. He definitely wasn't laughing.

Focusing on remaining calm, Squall mentally weighed his options. He was hanging approximately fifty feet above monsters who wanted to make him their next dinner and, quite possibly as a result, turn him into one of them. One hand was tightly gripping the floor he had just fallen from, and probably wouldn't hold out for much longer, while the other was holding onto one of his comrade's weapons like a life-line, possessing no junctions whatsoever, with more of those things, on the floor he nearly fell from above his head, looming towards him and preparing to make him their dinner as well.

Judging by the predicament he was in, he could either A, jump down or B, pull himself up. If he chose option A, he would risk breaking his neck, and possibly killing himself. If he died that way, they couldn't turn him, but the fact of the matter was that he was dead anyway. If he chose option B, he would have a better chance of survival, but those things would be a lot closer than they were before, and he would be hard-pressed to get away from them without being scratched or bitten in the process. But there was no guarantee that he would be able to lift himself up onto the upper level with just his left hand. He would have been able to, if he was holding onto the ledge with both hands, but, regardless of how much upper-body strength he possessed, he knew his wrist would snap under the pressure and thus he would wind up taking option A as a result.

Frowning thoughtfully, he didn't want to have to kill himself in order to escape those things, but he didn't have a lot of other options as well. His grip was beginning to loosen and, due to the increasing volume of the moaning coming from above, he knew they were closing in. He'd have to make his decision fast.

Quickly scanning the room once more, he finally spotted a platform leading nowhere over to his left. There were pipes leading from underneath it to the ground below, and possibly even past that, telling the SeeD that there was some sort of tunnel underneath it. Where it led, he didn't know. More pipes stretched from one end of the room to the other, barely six feet above the small platform, but a long way to the very bottom floor of the room. The platform itself was about twenty feet from the ceiling, but it was about thirty feet away from him. He wouldn't be able to jump the distance, not even junctioned would he be able to make the feat. It was his only option, and he was hard-pressed for any other solution.

The only way he would be able to make it over to that location would be if he cast float onto himself, but he couldn't drop the Exeter. The only option would be to allow his grip on the floor to release all the way, but that would make him plummet to the ground below. He would have to act quickly, meaning he would have to have the spell ready just before he cast it, and if he screwed up, then he was most certainly dead.

He took a deep calming breath and it was then that he realized he was downright terrified. When he had watched the movie with the others, he had been on the verge of falling asleep, it had been so terrible. He hadn't been able to get into it like the others had, but now he couldn't quite stop the shaking panic that was building in the pit of his stomach.

Looking back up, he noticed that the monsters had arrived at his location and they were beginning to reach down and grab his gloved hand, drooling at the sight of it. It was then that Squall made his decision and he let go, beginning to plummet towards the ground of those creatures.

Finding the spell, he desperately threw it out in front of him, the float spell dissipating before it could fully take form. He didn't have time to cast another one and reached out instinctively, grabbing a hold of the oversized pipe and holding onto it, forcing himself to stop in mid descent. Fortunately, none of his weapons had fallen this time.

Trying desperately to catch his breath, he looked back up in time to see the monsters suddenly falling down through the hole after him, and dropping into their brethren below, crushing them as they landed before more of the monsters began to make a feast out of them. Squall couldn't help but think that it could have been him had he not wisely stopped his descent and involuntarily shuddered at the thought. Using both his arms with the Exeter still clenched tightly in one hand, he pulled himself up onto the top of the pipe and, after attaching it to his belt in hopes that it would stay put, he began to crawl towards his destination, while thinking back on exactly what had just happened.

Why didn't the spell take its complete form? Squall wondered to himself, trying to keep himself balanced despite his current position. It should have worked. I should have begun floating almost instantly. So why did the wings appear and then suddenly break apart?

His unease increased, and he found himself fighting against the panic that was beginning to threaten to take over. He couldn't lose control, not now, especially not while he was nearly fifty feet above the monsters who were after him.

A few more feet… he guided himself mentally, trying to focus on anything but the creatures looming beneath him. Just a few more feet and you'll be on solid ground again.

As he grew closer and closer to the platform, he increased his movement, being careful not to fall off the pipes he was using as a balancing beam. He feebly wished that none of this was happening, that this was all some stupid dream he would wake up from. That Zell, Kiros and Irvine were still alive, and that he was still working in his office, reading the reports given to him by the excavation team positioned in Esthar. That Quistis would barge into his office, Selphie and Rinoa in tow, and tell him to get the latter two to stop pestering her to go shopping with them. That Rinoa would look at him with those mischievous eyes and plot a way to force him to tag along as well. Hell, he'd even give anything for Ellone to send him to the past through Laguna again or to be fighting against Ultimecia and believing he had imagined their victory over her.

Anything was better than this hell.

His left hand slipped off the pipe and the suddenly movement unbalanced the teenager, resulting in his sliding off the side. He had barely been able to reach up with his right hand, and grabbing a hold of the pipe with his left, thus stopping his descent and forcing him to dangle above the creatures once more. He bit back a curse as he chanced a look down, still seeing the monsters congregating beneath him. Turning to the side, he also noticed that the platform was nearly beneath him. He if swung himself in the general direction, he could make the landing.

The first traces of hope tightening in his gut for the first time in a little while, Squall shifted his weight backwards before shifting it forwards, his feet beginning to sway beneath his frame. He did this a few more times before he began swaying entirely, his hands firmly gripping the pipe as his body moved forwards, then backwards, and repeated the previous action.

Finally, when he had enough momentum, as he was beginning to swing forward, he allowed his hands to release their grip on the pipe and began to fall. This time he welcomed it, hoping that he wouldn't come up short.

Unfortunately, he realized that he wouldn't be able to make it and, instinctively reached out with both hands, his arms landing over the surface of the platform and the edge jabbing into his diaphragm, knocking the wind out of him and forcing him to draw in a shaking breath. He managed to pull himself up onto the surface and, after making a quick check, discovered that he had not lost any more ammunition or weapons.

Sighing in relief, he moved away from the edge, not wanting to chance another look down, and began to search for an entrance to the tunnel he had spotted. Sure enough, he found it, located directly in the center of the platform, covered by a metal plating with lines that crisscrossed continuously, only leaving small rhombus like shapes between each line.

Squall recalled being told by one of the Presidential Aids earlier in his stay, that the cafeteria level had originally been the top floor of the building, but once Adel had come into power, she had ordered the building be raised slightly, which was how the total number of floors had reached the number nine. The platform he stood on currently was all that had remained of the original roof, but he had no idea exactly where the tunnel would lead him.

There's only one way to find out, Squall told himself and, grabbing at either end of the metal plating, began to pull with all of his unjunctioned strength. The plating bent a bit, but other than that, it didn't budge.

Frowning deeply, Squall considered another option in getting through the tunnel. He had a lot more ammunition than when he had split up from the others, but not enough that he was comfortable with. Those creatures below him outnumbered him, a few thousand against one. He didn't give himself illusions of killing them all with what he had. Without anyone with him, there was no way he was getting the plating open, it was an impossibility. His only option was to sit tight and hope that someone found him. It was an option he didn't like, but there was very little else he could do.

Just as he had resolved himself to waiting, however, he heard something from above and instinctively looked up, unhooking the Exeter from his belt and pointing it up, even as he bent down and unholstered the remaining P14-45. Something had been up there, but there was nothing now.

Frowning slightly, Squall continued to search the area. He knew that it couldn't have been those things wandering around; they were too slow. The canines were a possibility, but he doubted they knew how to walk on ceilings, what with it defying the laws of gravity and all.

This thought reminded the SeeD of the movie and, as much as he wanted to avoid thinking about it, it was his only guide. There had been a creature at the tail end of the movie that could walk on walls with its claws. It had been a human once, but had been experimented on with the virus that had caused the mutation in the movie, having had the virus injected directly into its living tissue. It had mutated into something horrible.

Zell had called it a Licker, and Selphie had talked about it before they had all split up. Squall remembered seeing it in the movie, and he didn't want to have to face it in real life.

Just as he was beginning to relax, he heard the sound again, this time much closer. Turning to look, he recognized five claw marks indenting the wall and, with a sinking feeling, he realized he would not get his wish. He raised both weapons once again, searching with his eyes, looking for the creature. The platform itself was about thirty feet wide, twenty feet long, but the entire room itself was huge. The creature could hide anywhere and Squall wouldn't be able to get to it without climbing down from his perch and, with the mosh pit down below, that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

He saw something move from the corner of his eye and turned towards it, weapons levelled in its direction, only to find that nothing was there. His breathing increased until he was taking quick shallow breaths, which were beginning to hurt his chest and lungs, and as he continued the fruitless search, movement was made from the corner of his eye once again, and slowly, he turned around to see what it was, thinking that he might be able to catch a glimpse of it before it moved again.

The only thing he saw was a tongue about two feet wide and eight feet long and it was circling around his neck.

Out of reflex, Squall ducked just as it made to wrap itself around him and rolled out of the way, dropping the P14-45. When he stopped, he raised the Exeter, levelled it before the creature and almost swallowed his tongue in his shock.

The creature was at least three times his own size and twice as wide. It had no skin, only muscle was obscuring from view its internal organs, and its huge jaw was wide open, revealing elongated teeth, it's long, curving tongue hanging out of its mouth. It possessed opposable thumbs on its large hands and feet, long claws protruding from each finger. Its brain was quite visible and was probably the only thing that hadn't been mutated, but its face was the most frightening in Squall's opinion.

It possessed no eyes.

The Licker dropped onto all fours before charging towards Squall, the SeeD dodging to the left when the tongue darted out and dented the concrete surface. Squall didn't stop to assess the amount of damage done, and was already back on his feet. It was then that he realized he had dropped the remaining P14-45 and it was positioned behind the Licker, who was seemingly watching him intently, and Squall got the feeling that it didn't need eyes to be able to see him perfectly.

Sure enough, the Licker leapt again, missing as Squall ducked and rolled out of the way once more, the creature landing onto the wall, its claws keeping it steady. The SeeD figured that it was his chance to retrieve the fallen weapon, but even as he made a dive for the P14-45, the Licker snapped its tongue out, the appendage stretching out far longer than the original eight feet Squall had previously seen it. The tongue hit the weapon and Squall watched helplessly as it careened over the edge, falling towards the monsters below.

The tongue wasn't done yet and, as soon as it had pushed the weapon out of Squall's range, it snapped back up, intent on stabbing the SeeD and pinning him onto the solid cement ground, only the SeeD's reflexes were faster, and he once again rolled out of range of the creature. The Licker roared, which sounded more like a shrill animal's screech and Squall had to cover his ears with both hands in order to save his hearing. He was positive that the apparent battle cry had gotten the attention of the creatures below, because the moaning seemingly increased ten fold.

The Licker retracted its tongue and scaled the wall, seemingly well aware of its advantage over its prey. Squall hefted the Exeter and took aim, but before he could pull the trigger, the Licker launched itself away from the wall, and prepared to pounce on the SeeD. Squall aborted his attack and rolled out of the way once again. He climbed back onto his feet before scrambling to create more of a distance between the mutated creature, onto to slip and fall face first into the cement when something grabbed a hold of his leg. Turning back around, he recognized the object as the accursed tongue. Rather than reel him in like the SeeD thought it would, the Licker lifted its tongue up into the air and threw him, forcing him to skid towards the opposite edge of the platform. Squall had the mindset to grab a hold of the edge with his right hand to stop himself from going over, the left hand still tightly clutching the Exeter.

The Licker, seemingly not please with its prey's resourcefulness, used its tongue to wrench free the metal plating and threw the object towards the SeeD, but Squall managed to manoeuvre his body out of the path of fire, hearing as the metal plate crashed onto the ground below. He figured that the object had also managed to take out a few more of those things as well.

The Licker easily crept towards him, its long powerful legs able to use speed to its advantage. Squall decided at that point that Lickers were obviously the more intelligent of the trio of monsters he had been forced to deal with so far and, before he was able to move out of the way, the tongue grabbed him by the leg and hoisted him up before throwing him towards the edge of the platform.

Once again, Squall's reflexes managed to save his life, and he managed to grab the edge of the platform before he could plummet towards the ground below like the two P14-45's and the metal plating had.

Wait… Squall's mind went back a moment and he realized that the Licker might have given him a way out. The metal plating had been covering the tunnel Squall had been examining earlier. He hadn't been able to pull it off, but the Licker had ripped it off as though it were nothing but a plaything. If he could get around the monster, then he'd most definitely be able to slip through the tunnel and escape. It seemed as though the platform was no longer a save place for him to be.

But how do I get out of this? Squall wondered, feeling the vibrations as the Licker crept forward, probably having finished playing with him and intending to eat him. I can't risk casting a spell; what if it doesn't work? I'm not junctioned, so I can't just heft myself up onto the surface.

The Licker continued to creep closer, its long tongue curving back and forth as it closed the distance between them. Squall caught sight of the tongue and an idea flew into his head.

The Licker's tongue slid forward, waving closer and closer towards Squall's position and, with a final attempt at keeping the contents of his stomach where they belonged, he hoped that his plan would work.

The tongue wrapped around Squall's upper torso and hoisted him up from the end of the platform before hovering him over its gaping mouth, its jaw stretching at impossibly large proportions, preparing to swallow the SeeD whole…

Squall aimed the Exeter at the mouth of the creature before firing.

The powerful AP ammo shot forward, blasting into the Licker's mouth and blasting Squall upwards, forcing him to fly up and land roughly onto his back behind the Licker, the breath knocked out of him as the Licker clawed at its mouth in pain. Squall pulled himself up into a sitting position, trying to will the stairs out of his line of vision as quickly as possible. The back of his head hurt as well, but when he placed his hand on the cranium, it came away clean, so he knew he hadn't cracked his skull.

Pulling himself up onto his feet, he looked back to see the Licker was beginning to recover from the attack, and nearly dropped his jaw when he took notice that the creature had been mostly unaffected by the attack, the bullet having lodged itself into the surface of the platform they stood on, deeply too from the looks of it.

Either I missed or it moved at the last second. Squall thought to himself in shock and indignation. Either way, it shouldn't have happened.

The Licker turned to glare at him, and when it opened it's mouth, Squall felt a wave of self accomplishment. The tongue had been drastically shortened, the end being reduced to a blackened stub that was bleeding profusely. Unfortunately, it was still longer than any tongue had the right to be, but it was shorter than it had been.

At least the shot did something… Squall found himself thinking before he made a run for the tunnel, the Licker snarling and coming after him as he did.

Squall chanced a look back and saw to his dismay that the Licker was quickly closing in, so he took careful aim, hoping to hit the creature this time, and fired, another AP bullet blasting from the barrel and nearly forcing the teenager to fall forward. The shockwave pushed the Licker backwards a few feet. He didn't stop to see whether the bullet hit the monster or not, and continued running towards the tunnel, a screeching noise answering the question for him.

He made it to the tunnel opening, and found that it was roughly the circumference of his width if he were to stretch his arms to either side. It was too small for the Licker to fit through, and was his ticket to survival. Just as he was about to take the plunge, the lights overhead began to flicker, changing from bright luminescence to a dim spark of its former glow. He waited for a moment before the bulbs shone in one final brilliant radiance, and suddenly went dead, darkening the surrounding area's even more than they already had been.

Same to you, Hyne, Squall thought bitterly. The familiar sounds of the Licker approaching caught the SeeD's attention and he jumped in, well aware that he had almost been, once again, grabbed by the tongue of the creature. He cocked the Exeter and fired, only to have a regular bullet shoot out and lodge itself into the creatures muscle. At the same time, he suddenly found himself stopping in his descent, and when he went to check, he realized that something had caught onto his shirt. He tugged at it desperately, wanting it to rip and drop him the rest of the way down the tunnel. Anywhere but with the Licker.

His attempts became more desperate as the seconds ticked by and, when he looked back up to see what had happened to the Licker, all he saw an obscured creature blocking the tunnel of what little light shone through the Cafeteria. He caught something moving, and he tugged harder on his shirt, hoping to rip it and get as far away from that tongue as possible.

The tongue inched closer and closer, and Squall knew that time was running out. He knew that it was dangerous to shoot the Exeter within the confines of the tunnel, knowing perfectly well which ammunition was slotted next, but he didn't care. If he was going to die, he might as well take out the creature following him.

And he'd rather go out in a pile of ashes than be bitten and reanimated by those creatures.

Squall cocked the riffle once more before taking careful aim, counting backwards from three and squeezing his eyes tightly, prepared for the worst case scenario.

Well, at least no one else would run into the fucker.

Silently saying his goodbyes to the others, he placed his index finger over the trigger and pulled.