Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy 8, SquareEnix does.
Decadence
They really imprisoned him this time. When he awoke he was in the Desert Prison, in a cell much like the one he had escaped from several days ago. But that was a lifetime ago.
Many of the Galbadian forces that had previously held the prison had fled, leaving the compound abandoned. The lack of guards was remedied quickly when Cid called upon the favor owed him by Dollet. They weren't SeeDs, but Cid had lost enough of those the past three days, and they were well armed.
They made sure he wouldn't be able to retrieve his gunblade by destroying it, lest he somehow get out of his prison again; and a security camera was mounted in his cell. Squall watched its annoying swivel with disdain; couldn't they ever purchase one of those stationary cameras?
His horror had quickly passed, had so quickly become numbness he wondered if he had ever even been truly horrified by what he had done. The thought was cruel, horribly cruel, but so was he.
He didn't even blink when he heard them discussing his execution.
"Twenty. There's no way in hell Cid can excuse twenty murders, even if he is fucking crazy." Squall chuckled at that. He wasn't crazy…he didn't think so. He was possessed though, and when he tried to explain that they only shook their heads, so he stopped trying.
The isolation was horrible at first, the lack of any form of human contact with the exception of meals. Even then it was often tossed through a hole on the door, a quick glance of a hateful face as he reluctantly kept Squall alive and then it was gone. He wouldn't have even minded such company; he was starved for any form of contact.
The nightmares had also been horrifying. All he could dream of for the first three days was blood, blood and gore and those he cut down. They weren't the shadow creatures he had originally slain, but SeeDs. Even in his dream he knew he wasn't seeing those creatures as he cut down everyone who crossed his path; and the horrifying smirk of satisfaction he felt on his face as he did it was maddening. But he never woke terrified or regretful as he should have, only numb; and when he felt fear it was because he was numb, not because of what he had done.
He was thankful on the fourth day, when his dreams change. Though he wasn't sure whether or not they had become less terrifying.
--
It was after the entrance exam in Dollet, when he was leaning back against the wall as faraway as he could be from that stupid party while still attending the damn thing.
With a heavy exhale he placed his now empty alcohol glass on the rail beside him, trying, and failing, to keep from noticing the ridiculous outfit he had been forced to wear. He almost, almost, wished he hadn't passed the exam. Just so he could have remained in his room instead of here; but he knew it was a half-hearted wish.
A pretty raven haired girl in a white dress approached him; her smile was kind, with only the smallest hint of shyness. He knew that words were exchanged, heard them leave his mouth, but after he knew not what either of them had said, only that the girl had grabbed his arm and was dragging him inside, towards the dance floor.
Panic consumed him. What the hell? He didn't know how to dance! He stopped and pulled his arm back, glaring at the girl who looked at him in disappointment and confusion.
"Oh come on! You're just nervous." She said, and then she smiled, as if a thought had just occurred to her. "Oh! I know how to make you relax!"
She took his arm again and led him onto the dance floor, and he felt a sharp shift in reality as the images before him blurred and changed. When the girl turned back to him her hair was silver, her features were a bit more sharper, more pronounced, and her eyes were a striking amber.
His breath caught in his throat and for a moment he thought panic would consume him, even the girl, no woman, before him narrowed her eyes in expectation. But it passed, and he couldn't remember why he had been afraid of her in the first place.
"You…you're beautiful." He said awkwardly, wanting to look away, to escape her gaze that sharpened with surprise. He wasn't good at this, at conversation, especially when it came to compliments.
But he was immediately put at ease when she laughed, and it wasn't the cold, mocking laughter he expected, but a warm truly amused and pleased one. Her hand rose and rested on his shoulder and the other rose to caress the side of his face with fingers that resembled claws.
"Good. I want you to dance with me now." She said, her voice was colder, and carried a strange accent, one that Squall found strangely appealing. He didn't question her, didn't complain that he had not even the vaguest clue how to dance, only placed a hand at her waist, and took the hand at his face into his own.
The waltz was one executed with the experience and prowess of a couple who had attended ballroom dances all their lives. It was a coordinated movement of twists and spins that he would normally have found dizzying, but now his movements were easy, measured; and he danced with a woman he didn't know but felt a dark attraction too.
He laughed at the madness of it, the woman laughed too; and around them, the other SeeDs and dancers laughed. He realized vaguely that the ballroom had darkened, its clean crisp furnishings had decayed and rotted. The room was no longer gold and white, but black and red; and those who danced around them were fatally wounded. On his left a young SeeD laughed as she spun and twirled with her partner who was beheaded, and as she turned he saw the long scar that laced up her back.
He waited, waited for the laughter to die in his throat as he realized that these were the SeeDs that he had killed, but it didn't, if anything it grew stronger, all of it did. Until the room was filled with maniacal laughter, until Squall no longer cared about the others, only the beautiful woman he danced with.
He happened to glance over her shoulder as they twisted with the waltz, and then his laughter really did die, around him silence consumed the room as he abruptly stopped. The raven haired girl was there, standing at the back of the room, her dress was dirty and tattered, and her face was smeared with tears. In her hands she clutched something metallic with the engraving of a winged lion on it.
"No!" Commanded the silver haired woman, who immediately regained Squall's attention. "No look at me!" He stared into her amber eyes, and saw the promise of eternity there; one that both enthralled and repulsed him, and he nodded.
"Forgive me mistress." He said, truly apologetic.
"Mistress what?" She asked; her eyes seared with expectation and anticipation.
"Mistress Ultimecia…" As the words left his mouth he heard the raven haired girl cry out in despair.
--
Squall awoke with a sense of urgency, something that the past few days had failed to give him. The dream swirled fresh and vivid in his mind, and he sat for a long while, trying to connect it with his urgency. He remembered the beautiful woman, Ultimecia, how right and complete he felt dancing with her; but he also remembered the raven haired girl. It felt disturbingly important that she seemed so familiar, but he couldn't recall her name; only that he felt uncomfortable whenever he saw her.
As he sat in his cell, contemplating this something stirred in his grip. It startled him at first, when he opened his fist and found a single blood red petal there. There was no way that could have made it into his room, even if he did have a window he was in a metal compound in the middle of the desert. He knew it carried some deep symbolic importance, but he was blind to it.
He closed his fist around it tentatively, holding it in his gloved grip for several moments as he thought of Ultimecia once more. Then he opened his grip and he stared at what the petal had become. A single, small crushed black feather lingered in his grip, and as he watched it rejuvenated itself, the fibers straightening until it appeared unblemished. As he marveled at its perfection, it floated lazy towards the cell door, carried on some phantom wind.
He watched as the feather impossibly passed through the physical fiber of the door and it swung open easily, and as he stood the lens on the security camera cracked and then shattered. A sense of purpose filled him as he left his cell and watched as the feather floated up the staircase to the next level, a purpose he hadn't felt since she fell into a coma.
Wait…who?
"No!" The voice from his dream returned, interrupting his thought process and he reluctantly let the thought leave his mind.
A gun was shoved into his face and a face twisted with hate stood before him.
"How the fuck did you get out of there?!" The guard demanded, and startled Squall stepped back into the cell. He saw the guard reach for the door to close it and that urgency returned, and he finally realized what it was.
The sense of a greater destiny.
He pulled the gunblade from his side, though it hadn't really been there. The moment his hand closed around the area the handle would have been it seemed to materialize from there. A barrage of black feathers erupted around Squall as he pulled a black gunblade from the strange plane of existence. He didn't think twice about cutting down the guard that dared to interfere with that sense of destiny he felt, nor did he care about the others that came.
The strange black gunblade he wielded didn't just feel like a weapon like his revolver had, it felt like an extension of his being, something he didn't need to think to use but rather just came to him; as easy as breathing.
He followed the strange, beckoning feather up through the levels of the prison, slaying the guards that attempted to hinder his pursuit. Never had Squall felt such apathy for human life, even when he fought enemies, true enemies he always felt a tinge of regret for taking their lives. They were just following orders. But these were orders that interfered with him on such a scale that he no longer felt for them, only relieved them of their duties.
It seemed to take a lifetime to finally reach the top floor of the prison, one that resembled a massive control room, dotted with monitors and colossal hunks of machinery. A single blonde haired man stood in front of the panels, facing Squall; and Squall thought he seemed eerily calm facing his almost certain demise. The man sighed, rubbing at his temples before he spoke.
"I lost everything when that sorceress took control of my garden and banished me." He started, and Squall was overwhelmed with the sensation that he knew this man and suddenly he couldn't recall who he was. It seemed be happening a lot.
"But that sorceress had a strange, almost trance like expression. I knew she was possessed. But I don't see that when I look at you." His voice suddenly turned savage and the man stepped forward, his blue eyes blazing with hatred. "You're not fucking possessed! You're serving her of your own free will!" He drew a pistol from his side. "And you just cost me the last of my faithful soldiers you selfish, murderous fucking bastard!"
A dark rage possessed Squall and he surged forward, his speed blinding, and severed the man's hand that held the pistol. Another slash sent the man sprawling back on the control panel and Squall pinned him there, a gloved hand clamped tightly around his throat.
"Selfish?! Selfish?! I liberated Galbadia Garden from the sorceresses' control for a pathetic headmaster who could barely keep himself from pissing his pants at the thought of her! And you call me selfish?!" Squall seethed, enjoying the sick satisfaction he felt as he slowly asphyxiated the ignorant man.
Blood, something within him was suddenly craving it and brought the gunblade down one last time, watching as it sprayed up across the monitors. He released the dead man as the craving subsided and shivered at a thought. He damn sure wasn't selfish, but he was murderous.
He felt the taint again, felt it spread across the room as it had many times before, but he felt no fear this time. When he turned to see the silver haired sorceress, framed with ebony wings like some beautiful death seraph, he gratefully accepted the eternity that her eyes promised, and fell into her embrace.
--
((Yeah don't always expect chapters that long lol! I got the driving from Maverick Point, who cautioned me not to write myself into a corner, and inspiration quickly followed. Please Review!! I want to know what you guys think!!
Reviewers:
Maverick Point: OMG! I'm being compared to Stephen King?! (However slight...) O.o" Thank you!! Everytime I get a review from you it seems I get a new idea. I know where I want this story to go, and I know what route I need to take to get there but whenever you review the road seems to smooth out a little with the concepts I seem to recieve from it. I know I over use commas, I make sentences far too loooooooooooonnnnnnnnnnnnggggggggggg. But its a habit. I don't think I'll write myself into a corner though, as long you review. . I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Lionheart-92: Thank you!! I'm glad you like it!! )))