Summary: If there's one thing to cause the champions of Chaos untold grief, it's their access to cyberspace...
Disclaimer: Yeah, I wish I owned it... Maybe then I wouldn't be up to my neck in tuition-debt! I also regret to inform you all that I don't own any of the franchises off which the game in this chapter is based.
Queen's Quornor: This chapter was a little slow in coming, mainly because I didn't have as much time to write as I would have liked. Originally it was supposed to be just two characters, but then Kuja snuck back in again. I'm not sure how he's winding up in so many of these chapters, but I do enjoy the opportunity to expand upon his character beyond what the games tell us. Just as with Sephiroth, there has to be more to Kuja than what we see. Nobody's that one-dimensional!
Game Nut
Golbez did not often use the computer. He knew Cecil well enough to guess his movements without technology, and he preferred to relax by reading the books he had purchased through the Internet. Most of his experiences with the terminal came about when he was simply walking past the room.
On this occasion, Golbez had been returning to his own chamber after leaving a rose for Firion to find in the morning. He did not want to use the computer; he merely wanted sleep. What distracted him from thoughts of Dreamland, however, was a sudden shriek of mad laughter that could only be attributed to one person.
"Dance, my pretties, dance!" Kefka howled. His voice dropped to a more dangerous growl a moment later, though a hint of mirth remained. "Oh, you think you can hurt me with that? Let's see if your precious mousey can take this!"
Golbez shook his head and plodded closer to the computer room, curious to learn what had the clown so animated this time. Considering the level of noise he was making, it was surprising that anybody was sleeping, as the empty corridors seemed to suggest.
Kefka shrieked again, deafening the poor thaumaturge and making him back out of the room in haste. He couldn't see much around the clown's head, only bright splashes of color and some occasional flashes.
"I think we should buy him a gag." The voice swam though the ringing in his ears, and Golbez looked to the side as Kuja approached. The Silver Wizard was clad only in a pair of silk sleep pants, and he rubbed at his reddened eyes with the air of one who has all but given up on finding sleep. "He hasn't shut up since our last meal. In fact, I believe he has only gotten louder."
Golbez frowned beneath his helmet. "Have you any idea what he is doing?"
Kuja scratched his scalp, ruffling his disheveled silver hair. "It's some sort of game. Yugimon or something like that. Players collect and trade cards online, then summon them in these special arenas that bring them to life. They fight with traps, spells, and special weapons they either collect or win. When enough experience has been gained, the card evolves into a stronger form with more options for attacks and special abilities."
"And how do you know this?" Golbez asked, feeling a smile tugging at his lips.
"That idiot tried to coerce me into playing with him. He accosted me while I was browsing one night, and forced me to listen to a barrage of pointless, childish lunacy." Kuja covered his mouth as he yawned, then scratched his lower back. "Within five minutes I knew all the rules. By the time I escaped at the hour mark, I had been informed several hundred times of his intention to destroy all of his fellow Cardmasters."
The thaumaturge heaved a sigh. "I am beginning to wonder whether there is anything that will not excite him. Among our peers Kefka is the most juvenile, even more than the children who serve Cosmos."
"Sometimes I wonder what sort of substance or inhalant he might have taken. I can't fathom another explanation for his insanity."
The duo cringed as Kefka screeched in victory, mocking something called a T-rexaur and insulting the other player's mother.
Golbez shared a pained look with the younger man, despite knowing that Kuja couldn't see his grimace. "It cannot be denied that he is possessed of extraordinary power and ability. But sometimes I do wish he would perish, if it would allow us some form of peace."
"He is like the puppy from hell," Kuja grumbled, rubbing at his eyes again. "Always energetic, always eager, always yipping and destroying everyone's property."
"Unfortunately, we cannot tie him to a post outside the Shrine."
"Pity. His inane babble would keep Cosmos' canaries from ever setting foot inside our sanctum." The Silver Wizard turned to leave, and Golbez noted with amusement that Kuja's exhaustion was also affecting his use of casual magic: his silken sleepwear was loose enough to conceal the full length, but extending from the bottom of his left pant leg was the slightly tufted end of a long silver tail. Outside of Trance, Kuja never allowed people to see his tail.
A peal of laughter distracted him, and the thaumaturge was drawn to the sight of the clown skipping towards him. "Hey there, Gloom-and-Doom! Whassamatter? Couldn't sleep?" Kefka cheerfully hailed.
Golbez sighed again. Kuja had quickened his pace, almost running in his need to get away unnoticed. Kefka either hadn't seen him or just ignored him; Golbez was the only one he was focusing on now. A snort accompanied his next exhale. Lucky him.
Kefka bounced around him, grinning like the maniac he was. "You're too uptight, you know that? It's not good for you. Leads to constipation, and a long line of snappy, overanxious egos lining up outside the privy!" He came to a stop with an echoing click of his fingers. "You need to have some fun! And I've got the perfect solution. Make you stop moping around real quick!"
"If it involves cards and summoned monsters, I'm not interested," Golbez interrupted.
The clown recoiled, stroking the air with his long fingers. Golbez hated that habit; Kefka's restless fingers reminded him of centipedes ready to strike. "The monkey-mage told you, didn't he? Aww, give it a chance! It's so much fun, trapping your opponent before ripping their precious, puny cards to pieces!" Kefka's voice had dropped an octave and his eyes shone far too brightly for comfort. "You like flashy destruction, I know you do! This game's better than you think! I mean, what else do you have to do? Dwell on your misery and past sins and wail about your baby brother? C'mon, give it a try!"
Metal scraped as the thaumaturge began edging away; everyone, from Cosmos to Chaos, knew to run for cover when Kefka was this excited. "I think I would not be able to concentrate on your instructions. It is too late for this."
"Just try it! It's fun!" Kefka pursued him, almost floating now. His power was rising in response to his mood. "Come on, Golby! I wanna play!"
"I'm too tired to play right now. Return to your game." Golbez kept his power under tight control, unwilling to antagonize the clown further.
Kefka's eyes flared and his mouth curled. "You're going to play with me, and you're going to love it!"
He started to rear back, his fist clenching on conjured flames, but before Golbez could move to protect himself the air was filled with falling shapes. Kefka screeched and dropped to his knees, crawling about in a frantic attempt to collect the objects. Golbez stepped back, realizing that they were cards, all colorful and labelled with the word "Yugimon" on the reverse. The busy clown paid him no attention as he retreated, preoccupied with fawning over the cards and piling them into a neat stack.
"Addicts always have one damning weakness." Golbez looked up and saw Kuja leaning against the wall, still rubbing at his red-rimmed eyes. "Tempt them with the object they adore, and they will be no concern. It's like dropping the cover over a birdcage when the canary refuses to shut up."
"That was not one of your clearer metaphors. Still, I thank you for distracting him."
"Don't expect grand speeches and moving soliloquies. A lack of sleep can ruin the greatest of actors, directors, and even wizards." Kuja's tail brushed the floor behind his heel, prompting a frown from its owner. "As for your gratitude, it was no problem. If he's looking at those cards, he's not screeching."
The thaumaturge decided not to comment on the somewhat fluffy tuft visible below the cuff of his counterpart's pants. "Where did you get the cards? I thought the game resided purely in the virtual realm."
"There is also a trading card game. Kefka tried to interest me in that as well." The Silver Wizard yawned and stretched, and Golbez watched in fascination as his tail curled around his ankle. There was something very intriguing about that silvery appendage... He shook his head quickly; he must be more tired than he had initially suspected.
In his peripheral vision, he noticed Kefka creeping down the corridor on all fours, exaggerating his movements by lifting his limbs high like a lizard on hot sand. How the crazed clown had gotten ahead of them, he had no idea. Kefka's eyes were fixed on Kuja's tail, which had unwound from his ankle and now twitched freely once more.
Before Golbez could voice a warning, Kefka pounced; his hands closed around Kuja's tail, and one held it captive while he ran the other up the length beneath the pants, against the grain.
Kuja's reaction was immediate. He jumped and whipped around with a yelp, jerking his tail out of his attacker's clutches. In the next moment his hand was clamped over Kefka's face, and Golbez had the surpress a shudder at the murderous look on the younger man's face.
"Keep your hands off my tail!" he snarled. Fire exploded beneath his palm, sending Kefka bouncing away in a smoking, wailing ball. "And don't ever rub my fur the wrong way!" he added in a hiss, almost as an afterthought.
"I apologize. I didn't see him until it was too late," Golbez explained to the snapping violet eyes when they turned his way.
Instead of accusations and a potential fight, Kuja surprised him by slumping with a wide yawn. "Why must this thing draw such attention?" he grumbled, glancing back at the appendage in question. "I bet Zidane doesn't get felt up like this!"
"I can see why you keep it hidden. Such attention must be uncomfortable for you." Golbez was certainly one to talk. Having seen it in its normal state, he now had the desire to see if that tail felt as soft as it looked. But Kefka's agonized whimpers were incentive enough for him to keep his hands well away from Kuja's tail.
"I'm going to try and rest again. Leave him in misery; he deserves it for violating my person like that." The younger man stalked away towards his room, his left pant leg rippling with the movement of his thrashing tail. Golbez watched him until he vanished in the shadows, keeping his eyes on the silver tuft behind his heel. Then he shook his head and turned his attention to Kefka.
The clown had no face. Kuja's fire had melted the flesh down to the bone, leaving Kefka a total ruin above the neck. Somehow, he was still alive and conscious. He turned blind eyes upon Golbez as he approached.
The thaumaturge sighed, knowing that there was no way to heal such damage unless he snuck into Cosmos' domain and stole a potion. Kefka would likely be dead before he returned, even if he didn't run into any mannikins or heroes. The best he could do was help him fade.
Kefka only let out a choked gurgle as Golbez sank his fingertips into the clown's throat, puncturing his windpipe with the sharp tips of his gauntlet. In moments Kefka was gone, and the thaumaturge flicked his hand free of the blood. He would be back soon, as with every psuedo-death in this place. Death was no respite from the eternal cycle of battles and destruction; they were all prisoners, no matter which god claimed their allegiance.
On his way back to his room, Golbez passed the stack of Yugimon cards. He glanced at them, then picked them up and flicked through them. "A social game," he mused.
The cards rained to the floor as he let them drop. "Nobody is social here, amongst traitors, murderers, and madmen."
