A/N: Chapter V, everybody. Just a warning: this chapter (and, indeed, the entire fic) contains content that may not be suitable for those readers under thirteen (why the hell are you even ON this site?), for those who have delicate sensibilities, or for those who have an aversion to violence, or to explicit language. If you fall into any of the above categories… I STRONGLY suggest you find another fic to read. Causes does NOT get any softer from this point onward, people. The "M" rating is on this story for a reason.
Those reasons include graphic violence, language, and some disturbing contents that are DEFINITELY NOT SUITED FOR YOUNGER READERS.
The long pier reached out past the tethered SS Liki. Walking down the extended wooden gantry, Felix watched as a multicolored cloud rose from the peaked coliseum in the center of the city and dissipated into the blue sky. Red, and yellow and orange beacons highlighted the crooked horizon. He walked under an overhanging lip, and into a massive domed structure. Repeating geometric designs of blue, white, and red decorated the stone floor of the concrete rotunda; possibly indicating the direction to restrooms, or to help tourists to find their way to the stadium museum. Small pockets of garishly dressed men and women milled about the large room. They clustered around fountains and about the small shops, a haven for vendors peddling their wares on unsuspecting travelers. A strange troupe of creatures stood on one corner, banging drums, blowing horns; the noise representing Spiran music echoed off the walls and drilled its way into Felix's brain.
"They redid all of this last year," Wakka said, flashing a toothy grin at the girls ogling him from a nearby bench. "After the fall of Sin, Spira was able to focus even more on Blitzball. The old stadium just wasn't big enough, you know?"
"I see." Felix pointed to two arched, curtained doorways straddling a large opening. "That where we're going?"
Wakka shook his head. "Locker rooms and the main entrance are that way, Brudda. Yuna's got herself a private box up top."
"Private box?" Felix asked, raising one eyebrow. "Damn."
"Guess there's a few perks to defeating Sin, ya?" Wakka glanced over his shoulder. "Hey, you better be careful around here, Brudda. We all know you, but them guards over there are eyein' you like you owe them money."
Felix looked back. Three men in helmets stood at the arched openings in the rotunda. Swords clipped to their waists sparkled in the sunlight. Their dark-visored, thin-lipped countenances radiated an aura of seriousness to make Felix uncomfortable. As a contractor, his meetings with other security personnel usually precluded beers and 'I shit you not' stories at a local bar. If outward appearances gave any indication of inner thoughts, however, such shoptalk would be decidedly unwelcome here. "Solid bunch of guys."
Wakka nodded. "Yeah, Brudda, but you wanna stay on their good side, you know?" He glanced behind them. "Hey, you mind if I go take a look at the new locker room?"
"Knock yourself out."
Stadium security weren't the only ones eyeing Felix. He couldn't help but notice the stares thrown his way, to hear the whisperings and mutterings originating from people who had never seen a large tattooed man. Some things don't change. He leaned over a marble counter. "Beer."
Locks of curly, red hair waved side to side as the clerk shook her head. "We don't serve your kind here," she said.
Felix raised one eyebrow. "The hell's that supposed to mean?"
She pointed at a sign written upon in a strange blue script. "Can't you read?"
"Let's pretend I can't."
"It says," she sighed, tapping a manicured nail against the bar to emphasize each word, "'Al-Bheds Not Welcome.'"
"Whatever the fuck that is," Felix said, "I ain't one."
"Felix?" Yuna called. "Having some trouble?"
He turned. Yuna and Lulu had made their way into the rotunda. "Yeah. It usually this much of an ordeal to get a beer?"
The clerk's green eyes widened. "Lady Yuna! May I interest you in a glass of our finest-"
"May I ask why a companion of mine is unable to order a drink?
The clerk looked from Yuna to Felix and back again. "He's with you?"
"I'm not a cat," Felix said, narrowing his eyes. "You can speak directly to me."
"Yes, he's with me. Is there some trouble?"
Felix tapped a finger against the sign. "Apparently, I'm an 'Al-Bhed'. And that seems to be a bad thing."
"Well," the clerk said, bustling over to Yuna's side, "I've never seen anyone else with those markings."
"He isn't an Al-Bhed; he's a friend of mine."
The clerk apologized and rushed behind the bar to produce a ceramic bottle from underneath. "Here, as my apology. A bottle of our finest sake."
Sake. Felix hadn't drunk that since his contract deployment to Japan as a bodyguard for a regional governor. He had grown fond of the drink; but it was damn difficult to have served efficiently outside of Osaka. "Thanks," he said, accepting the proffered bottle.
After a moment of static, a voice broke over the PA system. "Ladies and gentlemen, the first match of the season will begin shortly. Please make your way to the sphere pool and present your tickets to the Crusader at the entrance. They will be very happy to help you to your seat."
"Crusaders?" Felix asked a recently returned Wakka as they walked down a long corridor away from the crowded rotunda.
Wakka rubbed at his shoulder. "Kinda like… hmm… they're the Guardians of Spira, you know?"
Cops. "Yeah, I get it." Felix adjusted the fit of his vest over his chest. He wore it out of consideration for Yuna – he knew it couldn't be good for her to be seen with someone who had a grinning skull tattooed on his back. His knife he left back on the Liki, under his pillow. Security at the stadium is bound to be tight, Felix knew, and I don't want to make more of a spectacle of myself.
Yuna tapped him on the shoulder. "This way," she said, motioning towards a small, elegant stairway. Her blue dress fit tight across her hips, and Felix did his level best not to stare at the way Yuna's ass moved as she climbed the stairs.
The stairway led to what looked like a VIP box overlooking a large, coliseum structure. Open seats ringed the stadium, with long, narrow stairways between seating sections. The overall appearance resembled the Houston Astrodome, where Felix had first met his ex-wife. The memory gave him a start at first, but he pushed it back into the Connex box where it belonged.
The announcer came back over the PA. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you haven't already, please find your seats. The season opener is about to begin."
A massive metal ring rose up from the bottom of the stadium and began rotating like a part of a gyroscope. Water shot from cannons positioned around the coliseum and – Jesus Christ! The water formed a perfect sphere within the spinning ring, and the rippled surface pulled taut under some unknown force. As the sphere filled up, two groups of men dove in from either side of the stadium.
"This is going to be a good game," Yuna said, sampling the pink contents of a wineglass perched on the table between velvet chairs. "There's a really big rivalry between these two."
Wakka nodded as he sat down. "The Al-Bhed and the Guado hate each other, Brudda."
"Al-Bhed?" Felix dropped into the chair next to Yuna.
"A desert tribe," Lulu explained. "They have quite the… history when it comes to interaction with the rest of Spira."
"Yeah, they thought I was one downstairs."
A loud whistle blew, and the crowd cheered loud enough to be audible inside the VIP box. Wakka leaned forward and white-knuckled his chair. "Here we go, Brudda!"
"And with that, the first half ends! Jimma, I don't think I've ever seen two teams with such an honest dislike for each other!"
"Right you are, Bobba. There were more red flags that half than all last season!"
"No matter whom you're rooting for, you can agree on one thing: the Psyches are dominating the sphere pool today."
"Right again, Bobba. Their forwards have just been annihilating the Guado defense!"
Wakka flipped a switch, and the PA system fell silent inside the box. "Those two could talk all day," he said, shaking his head.
"They're right: this is a helluva game to watch." Felix waggled his sake bottle, the few remaining drops swirling about in the bottom. "I'm gettin' somethin' to drink."
Yuna's braid and silver earrings swung as she shook her head. "Can't. They lock the doors to the rotunda and stadium after the game starts. There's a minibar in the back," she added with a wave towards a squat little wooden dresser.
"So Lulu," Felix asked, walking to the cabinet. "Where's Riko at?"
"Kids' area. Wakka dropped him off this morning."
Wakka nodded. "He'll have more fun there than up here with us, you know?"
"Nah, I don't. Alec always liked to be where the action was." Felix froze, nearly sending his sake crashing to the ground. Alec…
"You had kids?"
"I don't want to talk about it," Felix muttered, flopping into his chair. He wished he could relive the past fifteen seconds and not say anything about his son. Alec DiMarco, the product of a keg of Heineken, a long stay in Afghanistan, and a blooming relationship with a pretty young fashion consultant named Tracy, was now the last DiMarco left in Chicago. Felix loved him to death. And here he was, stuck in god-fucking-knows-where, with no idea if he'd ever see his son again. Alec… Shit, this is just great. I'm having a field day. He forced the lump in his throat back down with half the sake in his bottle. That battle didn't need to be fought again.
Yuna adjusted her position in the chair, resting her clasped hands atop her crossed legs. "So what do you think of Spira?"
Felix set the sake down. "Stuff's the same; stuff's different; stuff doesn't make any damn sense. I'm gettin' used to it."
Lulu chuckled. "It's going to take a while for Spira to get used to you!"
"Yeah, Brudda, you see some of the looks those markings got you?"
"Looks? Shit, I had a girl refuse to sell me a beer!"
"Maybe you should cover your markings," Yuna offered.
"I did; I wore my vest."
"I meant the ones on your arms."
"There is no way in hell I'm wearing long sleeves in this weather," Felix said, pointing out the window in the general direction of the sun.
"Still," she insisted, "they are proving a bit… troublesome."
"They can take it up with me." Felix produced a cigarette from his carton and waggled it between his fingers as he looked around the room. "Anyone got a light?"
"Allow me," Lulu said, extending a hand. Felix dropped the cigarette into her white palm. She rubbed the cigarette between her index finger and her thumb for a few seconds. "Here," she said, smiling like somebody who just pulled a fast one.
Felix leaned forward and accepted a… smoldering… cigarette. She just… it… I… that doesn't… "Did you just…"
Yuna smiled. "Believe it now?"
"Damn," he breathed. "Damn." Felix placed the cigarette into his mouth and took a deep breath.
"She's got the magic touch, ya?" Wakka asked, winking at Felix.
"Shit," Felix said, blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. "If she can do that with her fingers, I bet you two have phenomenal-"
Three loud pops resounded through the wooden door from the hallway. Felix had been around that sound his entire adult life. No other sound in the world could exactly match it. Someone's got a fucking gun. "I'll be back," he said, striving to appear nonchalant as he stood from his chair. Felix walked to the door and cracked it open, peering through the gap. The corridor was empty and deathly silent.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Jimma said over the PA, "there has been a… um… disturbance in the VIP section. Please remain in your seats, and… ah… allow our trained security personnel to handle the… uh… incident. Thank you for your cooperation."
Four pops.
And they were close.
Mary, mother of fucking God! Felix slammed the door shut and flicked the lock on.
"Felix," Yuna asked, her voice quivering. "What is going on?" She sat forward in her chair and gripped the wooden arms until her knuckles turned white. Lulu's long, black braids whipped through the air as she looked from the window to Wakka and then to Felix. Wakka stood beside Lulu and balled his fists, narrowed eyes flashing from Felix to the door.
"Someone's got a fucking gun," Felix explained, pressing against the wall, his hand darting to the small of his back where the absence of his .45 made him feel completely naked. "Stay low, and keep the fuck away from the window."
"What's a gun?" Lulu demanded. "You aren't-"
"Machina!" Felix hissed. "Someone's shooting one, and they're cl-"
The door exploded open.
The chromed barrel reflected the fluorescent light inside the VIP box.
The scratched slide came level with the ground.
The barrel traveled in tiny circles.
The trigger finger had no hair on it.
Lunge.
Grab.
The deafening report echoed inside the small room.
Yuna screamed.
Felix 's hand slipped up the warm slide and clamped onto the shooter's wrist. Another shot. He slammed him face-first to the ground, and pulled the man's arm up and back, away from Yuna. The arm snapped and popped as it bent in unnatural ways. The pistol clattered to the floor. Felix cut off a gargling scream of agony by twisting the man's head full circle. Bloodshot, bulging blue eyes stared up at him.
Felix fumbled for the pistol and hustled out the door. Another pop from farther away, in the main hall. He took off, his booted feet pounding against the concrete floor. He skidded to a stop at the locked double doors that barred his entry into the rotunda. Three more pops from inside. Felix pumped two rounds into the locking mechanism and slammed his shoulder against the doors. They burst open, and another gunman spun to face him. Gotcha, motherfucker! Felix placed the man's surprised face behind his front sight and fired.
The head snapped back, and a spray of cranial matter landed onto the floor.
A small family – father, mother, and daughter - lay sprawled on the floor in a pool of blood. Fist-sized red holes pockmarked the bodies. Oh, Jesus!
His heartbeat echoed in his ears as he rushed back down the long corridor and into the room he left. Yuna, Lulu, and Wakka crouched behind chairs and an overturned cabinet. Thank God. "Get up," he ordered, "and get out."
"What the Fayth is—"
"Bad guys. Get up; we're leaving!" Felix grabbed the disfigured body and began running his hands along its sides and up its legs.
"What are you—"
Gotcha. Felix pulled a set of spare magazines from a satchel strapped to the man's leg. "Ammo," he explained, waving one in the air.
Yuna crawled along the floor to Felix's side. Her mismatched eyes were wide. "Did they… did they hurt anyone?"
"Yeah. Don't know how many yet. You're all coming with me, and we're getting the hell out of Dodge." He jammed all but one magazine into his thigh pocket. "Where's the nearest exit?"
"Dock 3," Wakka replied, his voice unsteady. "Brudda… what exactly is the plan?"
Felix studied the handgun for a moment. The black polymer grips bolted to the silver frame with three hexagonal screws. The controls were also black. He pressed what he thought was the mag release, and was rewarded with the shlack of an empty magazine sliding out and hitting the floor. "Kick ass, get the fuck out. If you know any prayers," Felix added, slapping a fresh magazine into the handgun before racking the slide, "start saying 'em."
Felix burst through the door and charged down the hall, Yuna and company in tow. He stopped at the bloody, almost-headless body of the second gunman and picked up the man's sidearm. "Wakka! Know how to use one of these?"
Wakka shook his head and took a step back. "Unh-uh, Brudda. Never even touched one!"
Felix grunted and stuffed the pistol into his waistband. Two's better than one, and I ain't leaving this thing here.
Yuna gasped. "Oh, Fayth, Fayth, Fayth!" She dropped to one knee at the side of the dead little girl. "How could this happen? How could this happen?"
A rapid staccato echoed down the hall from Dock 3.
"Fuck," Felix snarled, "that's where we need to be." Before Felix could take off, four rounds slammed into the pillar next to him, and he vaulted over the bar where the redheaded receptionist had refused to serve him. Nobody would be getting service from her bar in the future – brown eyes stared out from the bloody, ragged hole that used to be her face. Felix peeked out from the side of the bar. Five more gunmen, each one carrying an assault rifle. Bad odds. He yanked the other pistol from his waistband and stood up, both guns barking in a discordant symphony of hot lead and sliding steel.
One of the gunmen jerked to the side and fell.
The other four opened up and dove for cover, their shots chipping away at the marble and ricocheting off the stone floor. The glasses and bottles on and above the bar shattered, raining broken glass and liquor on Felix. A translucent green bottle of something rolled past him, and Felix grabbed it off the floor. It was time to even the odds. He ripped the flap from one of his thigh pockets and soaked it in a pool of alcohol at his feet. Felix smashed the top of the bottle off and jammed the wet cloth into the jagged mouth. He smiled as he took the cigarette from his mouth and touched it to the strip of fabric. The flame was almost invisible, but supplied an impressive amount of heat.
Felix leapt from his cover, firing a pistol with one hand and holding the Molotov cocktail in the other. As the gunmen peeked out from their crates, he hurled the bottle at the boardwalk and dropped back down. The bottle hit against something and popped. Two of the men began screaming in a strange language, slapping themselves in a futile effort to extinguish the flames. One jumped into the ocean, the other lay on the ground writhing.
He jerked the other pistol from his waistband and fired until both slides locked back. A combat roll took him from the bar to the planter where Yuna, Lulu, and Wakka were crouched. Broken glass cracked under his weight and bit into his shoulder as he tumbled across the gap. More rounds ricocheted off the floor as Felix pressed his back against the ridged concrete planter.
Lulu buried her face in Wakka's shoulder, sobs racking her black silk clad body. Yuna curled herself into a tight ball, closing her eyes tight and rocking back and forth. Felix slapped fresh magazines into his pistols, let the slides shoot forward, and peeked out. He damn near burnt the rest of the cigarette in one breath – the flames from his grenade had spread into the rotunda and ignited the pool of alcohol on the floor. "Shit."
Felix tapped Wakka on the shoulder. "Hey! You gotta get these two out of here!"
"I've never seen anything like this, Brudda."
"I don't give a shit right now. It's time to grow a fucking set and get your wife and Yuna somewhere safe." Felix took another look. The flames spread fast, but the burning pool of liquor didn't quite reach to the planter yet. The heat burned his eyes, forcing him to blink as he returned to cover. "Listen--go back through the doors and into one of the other boxes. Hide in the bathroom. Lay down on the floor, and don't make any fucking noise. You got me?"
Wakka responded with a convulsion.
Felix jammed one of the pistols into Wakka's hands. "Take this. Anyone tries to come inside, waste 'em. Get ready to run; I'll cover you!"
Four… three… two…
"GO, GODDAMMIT!Felix sprinted for the pillars closest to the shooters, and his shoulder slammed hard against the marble. He peeked out. The two men were crouched behind crates near the rotunda. He stuck the pistol out and fired blindly, taking chunks off the crates but doing little real damage. As the slide locked back on Felix's second to last magazine, he realized that he hadn't seen one security guard since the shooting started. Where the fuck are the 'trained personnel'?
He reloaded his handgun, grinned, and took a deep, smoky breath. The adrenaline was tearing through his veins. Those assholes didn't know who the hell they were fucking with. He leaned out and found himself face-to-barrel with an assault rifle. The man shrieked at him in a strange language. Context, though, performed wonders with an impromptu translation. Felix latched on to the barrel shroud and yanked, trying to get himself out of death's way. The man let off a long burst, and Felix's skin sizzled. He lashed out and smashed the gunman's front teeth in with the barrel of his own weapon. Felix stepped forward and shot him twice for good measure.
Two clicks sounded from behind.
Felix whirled and slapped the trigger twice. The remaining assailant dropped his rifle and tore at the neat holes punched through his red coat. He looked up at Felix, his bizarre green eyes narrowed, his breathing ragged. A thin trickle of blood ran from the corner of his thin-lipped mouth.
Felix shoved the end of the ported slide into the man's face. "Just who the fuck are you?"
The curses stopped. "Vilg oui," the man hissed. He wiped the trickle of blood from his mouth and dropped to his knees, his breathing becoming even more shallow. "You… who choose to fight… your sorrow… you will die."
The leering face disappeared in a pink, red, and white mist. The wet spray and larger pieces of tissue sizzled against Felix's pistol and adhered to his forearms. An empty casing tinkled against the concrete and rolled to rest against a perforated crate. He lowered the pistol, and looked back at the carcass of the little girl in a tattered, bloodstained white dress. Blonde hair adhered to her pale face with drying blood. Wide, china-blue eyes stared vacantly into nothingness; glazing over in the hot Spiran sun. Her small, chubby fingers remained wedged into a gap between two stones. Beside her lay her mother and father - their own bullet riddled corpses sprawled at the exit. The iridescent flies buzzing about the scene landed indiscriminately on victim and gunmen alike.
Felix released his finger from the trigger. "Not today, motherfucker," he muttered.
"Our breaking story tonight: an attempt on High Summoner Yuna's life at Luca Stadium earlier today. The investigation is underway, but at least ten people have been reported dead, including five gunmen. Confidential sources state that an unknown man, acting alone, is responsible for preventing further loss of life and for ensuring the High Summoner's safety. Further bulletins will follow as events warrant. Stay tuned as…"
Lulu switched the sphere off. The only light inside the room now came from the full moon shining through the open door, and by the faint glow of an oil lamp. She smoothed the wrinkles out of her gray slacks and low-cut black blouse. "Five," she echoed. "Holy Fayth…"
Yuna wrapped a knitted blanket around her own shoulders. "I watched two of them die," she whispered.
"Yuna… if he hadn't done it, we all would be dead too."
"I know. It's just… it was like watching one of Rikku's machina." Yuna's voice dropped almost to a whisper. "I was almost more scared of him than the assassins."
Lulu nodded. "Whatever he did in his world, exactly, it wasn't something pleasant. He said he was a professional guardian. I guess we can believe it now."
"He didn't even flinch." Yuna shivered. "Thank the Fayth he's on our side."
Lulu frowned. "For how long? If he works for whoever pays him…"
"What're you suggesting?"
"I think we need to keep Felix close. He's still not at home in Spira, and you have more enemies in the Council than friends."
"But the money-"
"How much Gil could he need?"
Yuna clutched the blanket tighter. "We can ask him tomorrow. Right now, I think I should thank Felix for what he did."
She stepped out of the cabin and closed the door behind her.
Felix wrapped the bandage tightly around the gash in his calf. Fuck. His hand demanded attention as well; wrapped in gauze but still a source of pain. Grabbing that carbine wasn't the smartest thing Felix had ever done, but it kept him alive. Yeah, and everyone else in the stadium. He picked up another roll of gauze and dipped it into the bucket of freshwater from the sink. Felix left the lobby before everyone offered him potions and magical fix-alls; he preferred to take care of his own wounds. He sighed as he bound his burned hand with the dripping gauze. Felix saw the 'sphere', of course. Each standard room came with one. None of the newscasters had any idea who their protector was, but they did find eleven bullet-riddled corpses.
He grunted as he made a fist, making sure to wrap the gauze securely. The cuts and small burns covering his shoulders and forearms would need tending to as well. They could wait. Felix stood up, tapped a centimeter or so of his cigarette over the edge of the balcony and limped back inside, slamming the sliding door behind him. He flopped onto the bed. Fuck, again. His leg hurt something horrible, and Felix made a mental note to get a potion from Yuna in the morning. His injured pride, along with some minor scrapes, would be just fine by then.
The internal structure of the pistol was similar enough to the Browning Hi-Power in his old sock drawer that Felix could put it back together after a through cleaning. He hoped the manager wouldn't mind finding a half-used, complimentary bar of pink floral soap and bloody toothbrush in the trash.
Felix adjusted his riding, twisted boxers. The pain in both shoulders made it impossible to sleep. He couldn't put pressure or roll over on them. This is going to be a helluva night. The sphere on the nightstand clicked on with a soft hum.
"Here we are, live at the site of today's massacre. The death count is confirmed to be eleven. Two gunmen have been apprehended by the Crusaders, and they are currently undergoing medical treatment for serious burns and gunshot wounds."
Felix chuckled. Should've shot the bastards again.
"Lady Yuna and her entourage-"
He took a drink from the bottle of sake on the dresser.
"-are confirmed to be safe and in good condition. The man responsible for stopping the Luca Massacre still has not been located."
He slapped at the metal rim around the sphere until it turned off. Still not located - If I'm fuckin' lucky, I'll stay that way.
Someone knocked on his door, and Felix leveled the pistol at the doorway. "Who's there?"
"It's Yuna," the muffled reply came back. "C… can I come in?"
"Yeah," Felix said, stuffing the pistol under his pillow. "Come on in."
She entered with a flutter of white cotton and a knitted blue blanket. "I'm s…. sorry to disturb you."
"I'm fine. Wasn't sleeping anyway. You doing okay?"
Yuna shook her head, her damp chestnut hair waving. "No."
He sat up, wincing from the pain in his leg. "Neither am I. This leg is killing me," he said, extinguishing his cigarette on the metal ashtray. "But pain isn't what's bothering you."
"No." She sat down next to him on the bed, leaning back against her elbows. "It's what I saw. The men burning… the little girl…"
"I know. You close your eyes, and that's all you see." Felix blinked, and for a moment… the face came back to him. Dark eyes stared at him from behind a battered pistol. Young eyes peered over a tattered, red and white shemagh. Eyes that widened as Felix's rifle went-
"Doesn't it bother you?"
"I'm used to it," he lied.
"I can't imagine… what that must be like."
Felix sighed. "You need to get some sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."
Yuna shook her head. "It just… I don't feel…"
Felix rolled off the bed, biting his lip to keep the grunt of pain inside. "Need something to drink?" He asked, reaching for the bottle of sake.
"No," she said. "I'm okay. You… I need to thank you."
"Unh-uh," Felix interjected, shaking his head. "You don't. I did what I've been trained to do."
Yuna managed a weak smile. "Thanks."
"I said don't mention it, but you're welcome. Yuna," he added, rubbing his chin, "how… how old are you?"
She smiled again, weaker than before. "Nineteen."
Felix took a swig of sake. "You're awfully young for this shit." Good thing she didn't take the sake. 'Course, not like 'contributing to the delinquency of a minor' would add all that much to my jacket.
Yuna shook her head. "As High Summoner, my age doesn't matter. All that does is my duty to the people of Spira."
He drummed his fingers on the ceramic bottle. "Are you going to be able to sleep tonight?"
"I… I'm not sure," she admitted, folding her hands. "Lulu… she might need me to stay up with Riko."
"Like hell. You need to get some rest."
"I ca-"
"If it makes you feel safer, you can sleep in here," Felix added, staggering to the chair across from the bed. "I don't mind sleepin' in a chair."
She stepped forward and reached out at Felix. "You're hurt! Let me help you!"
Felix laughed. "I'm fine!" He tapped the bandage on his leg. "Bastard just nicked me, is all. It'll heal up in a few days. I hope."
Yuna frowned. "With a scar. A potion would fix all those right up, you know."
"Scars don't bother me. I've got enough of 'em that I forget where they come from," he smirked. "I think this is the third one from a gunshot."
"Third?" Yuna asked, her green and brown eyes wide with either awe or disbelief. "Shouldn't you be dead by now?"
Definitely disbelief.
"That's not what I'd call an appropriate question to ask," Felix replied, his eyes narrowing. "And I'm tired right now."
"I'm sorry for bothering you," she apologized again. "I'll see you in the morning?"
"Yeah," Felix agreed. "In the morning."
Vichada, Colombia
May 22nd, 1999 – Eight years ago
2100 hrs Local Time
Felix squinted. He packed the night vision goggles away some time ago. The lack of any ambient light in the Colombian jungle made it impossible to distinguish one shape from another; at least not in the green-tinted haze the goggles provided. He drummed his fingers on the foregrip of his suppressed MP5. The rain drizzled down the leaves of tropical plants and padded on his do-rag. Grenades clanked against each other, their dull knocking blended the more unusual noises of the jungle. He paused to wipe the rain and sweat from his face with a muddy hand. Three days in the jungle, and they still hadn't seen a single sign of guerilla fighters or civilization.
Someone broke radio silence twice, two muffled clicks resounding in Felix's earpiece. Contact. He clicked back. Copy. Felix peered through the sights of his submachine gun, straining his eyes to pick out the army of guerillas he expected to be lying in ambush. No army lurked in the jungle ahead, just a cluster of huts illuminated by a bonfire. Time to rock 'n' roll.
He walked in a half-crouch until he met up with a small knot of kneeling men two dozen feet from the village. "Kirk," he whispered. "What's up?"
"Somethin' ain't right," Kirk whispered. "Hollywood took a team out to clear the village. He put us out here on perimeter."
Three clicks on the radio. Move up.
Felix set his submachine gun to rock 'n' roll. "Let's see what's goin' down."
Felix saw the smoke; pillars of it rose high into the cloudy night. Smoky bonfires were perfectly normal for a jungle village. The disgusting, rotting smell this one gave off was decidedly not. He tapped his finger against the plastic trigger. He could feel that something wasn't right. Death hung over the village in cloud that became more palpable the closer Felix got to the village. The orange flames from the fire cast eerie, flickering shadows; it made the slightest movement translate into jerky silhouettes.
Four clicks. Clear.
Felix walked into the town circle and fought the urge to vomit. He didn't want to look. Not at the piles of charred, smoking corpses. Not at the infant at the edge of the pile, its small, skeletized hands outstretched to the sky. Not at the small face made even more grotesque by the firelight. Not at the child's mother lying shot to death against a wall, her bruised legs spread wide from their bloody apex. Not at the bleeding, ragged holes in her chest where breasts should be. Not at her head a few feet away. Felix retched, emptying the contents of his stomach into the mud. He staggered back out of the village; his vision blurred and his stomach churned.
The Green Berets at the edge of the jungle nodded silently at him. Their camouflage paint was smeared around their mouths. Felix felt his hands shaking. He squeezed his MP-5 tight enough for his hands to hurt.
Something inside Felix died that day, in the middle of the Colombian jungle. Death was no longer something on the news that he puzzled over and discussed - it was right in his face. His squad had six days left for their mission. Twelve men made a silent oath that they would make every goat-fucking rebel in that jungle wish he never heard of the Green Berets, and wish even more he had never set foot into Vichada, Colombia.
A/N: Remember when I said this wasn't the usual "fallen into Spira" story? There you go. Chapter VI is another long wait. Thanks to everybody whose stayed with Causes for this far. I'm not going to review whore, but a little feedback would be nice. Don't feel pressured though. Success of a story isn't measured by reviews, but by the number of people who become attached to its characters and plot. See you all next update!
Felix is referring to the personnel jackets (dossier, really) kept by the US Military and paramilitary forces such as private military contracting companies. Just thought I should clear that up.