By Hikari
At the C.P.A HQ in New York City, the head of the C.P.A's Square Enix division, Joshua West, was not having a good day. Calls from Tetsuya Nomura and Hironobu Sakaguchi had been coming in every thirty minutes all day long. Cries of, "Where the hell is my cast?" and "FF8 sequel needs to be filmed! FIND THEM!" His phone was ringing now, but he didn't really want to answer it. It wasn't as though he didn't have anyone working on the case at all. Nearly all of his Agents were working nonstop. They'd been a bit upset when their coffee break had been canceled, but they understood. They all took their jobs very seriously. All of them, including West, were furious and confused. ALL of the main Final Fantasy characters missing? How had such a theft happened right under their noses? Something was definitely out of place here. This was no ordinary Diehard kidnapping. As such, he'd decided to lead the investigation himself. He now sat at the head of a table in a room surrounded by the C.P.A's top agents.
"Alright people!" He took a sip of coffee. "If I get one more call from Nomura asking me where the hell Cloud is I'm going to shoot something. Tell me what we've got. Suspects?"
"None yet sir." An agent reported. "But we have agents in every Final Fantasy world questioning possible witnesses."
"I hope they had something useful to say."
She nodded. "The Edge Team says they have witnesses who saw the Final Fantasy VII cast gathering at Tifa's Seventh Heaven. They searched the place and talked to the kids living there. Shelke from Dirge of Cerberus was watching them. They believed she was hiding something, but when they questioned her she told us nothing conclusive except that they've been gone for at least a day. The Balamb Team reports that Headmaster Cid is being rather uncooperative. They're bringing him in for questioning. The other teams haven't arrived yet. We'll have more information in a few hours."
"Good." He nodded. "I don't think I need to tell you people this, but this is no ordinary case. Entire casts don't just vanish into thin air. Somebody saw something. I want you all to everything you legally can to find out who."
"Hey, puberty boy."
Squall actually felt his eye twitch in irritation. How many times was he going to have to tell Seifer not to call him that before it finally got through to him? "It's Squall. What do you want?"
"Why don't we have a spar. Y'know like old times?"
"The last time we sparred, we both ended up with scars on our foreheads. Besides, the noise will wake the others."
"So we go off a ways." Seifer shrugged.
Squall sighed. He knew Seifer was just bored. He was too. Watch duty was always boring, but in just a half an hour it would be Quistis' turn, and he would be able climb into his sleeping bag. Of course the prospect of Rinoa and himself sharing a tent didn't hurt either. Of course, he wouldn't tell Seifer this. All he said was, "The noise might attract the attention of the Diehards. Maybe once we've found Mr. Uematsu."
Seifer gave a loud, "Hmph!" but dropped the subject. Even he wasn't willing to risk attracting THEM. "So Squally, why don't you tell me more about these 'Diehard Fans'?" He asked as he drove his sword into the ground and leaned back against one of the enormous jungle-trees that surrounded their campsite. Squall gave him a sidelong glance. "What? You mean to tell me you don't know about them?"
"Oh I know what they are." Seifer shrugged a shoulder. "I just don't know that much about them." Squall crossed his arms and tilted his head to one side as his mind went over everything he'd ever heard about the horrible Diehards.
"Where to start?" He muttered to himself. "Well. Ever since the creation of entertainment, there have always been the fans." He shook his head. "There are currently three degrees of fans. The First degree is probably the best we can hope to have. They love us, but understand that we are untouchable, and they understand that. Then we come to a slightly more serious degree of fans. The Second degree. Those people that love us to death, collect every action figure, cd, poster, you get the idea. They might try to get an autograph, but otherwise they're harmless. Then...there is the Third Degree, more commonly known as the Diehards." A small shiver ran up his spine.
"They are the worst possible type of fan. Not only do they collect everything like those fans in the Second degree, they worship you. These are the people that have shrines in their closets. They play our games again and again. They write threatening letters to Square, demanding sequels. Ever so slowly, they become more and more reclusive. Soon the real world is only a memory, and our world is all that matters. They say their eyes begin to glow like the television and computer screens they spend so much time staring at, and that they begin speaking in strange language that none but they can understand. Soon, they grow tired of the fake reality. They want us, the characters, for themselves. That's when the C.P.A steps in." He allowed a small smile. If it weren't for them, the entire world would be like this Island by now."
"Wow." Seifer exclaimed with wide eyes. "So basically these people are nutcases. " He gestured out towards the jungle with one hand. Squall shrugged a shoulder. "Somewhat. But don't underestimate them. They're known to be incredibly smart."
Seifer rolled his eyes. "We've got these Social-Life Weapons right. They won't come near us."
"I wouldn't be to sure of that if I were you..." Squall said, his eyes looking past Seifer and into the jungle beyond, where a pair of bright yellow eyes stared at him from the darkness. He slowly drew his sword. Confused, Seifer followed Squall's line of vision and turned his head. "Holy sh-"
"AAAIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
MWHAHA! I feel so evil! Tell me, what degree of fan are you? I'm a Second Degree fan myself!
