AN – Just a forewarning, this chapter and the one after it will earn the M rating. Be prepared.
Chapter 20
The Meaning of SeeD
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Slowly, Zell became aware of his surroundings again. His eyes opened, vision clearing after a moment to reveal the same dank, dark, rusted metal walls and ceiling that he'd been staring at for only Hyne knew how long, now. It was impossible to keep track of time, in here.
"Welcome back, Zell," Rinoa murmured beside him, causing him to turn and then slowly sit up with a wince. "The 'dream world' again?" He sighed somewhat heavily, nodding.
"Uh huh."
"How's Laguna doin?" Selphie questioned on his other side. Zell shrugged.
"I dunno, I didn't see him." Zell made a face, struggling to put the visions he'd seen into some semblance of sense. "It's not like I know everything about Ward, but . . ." The blonde reached up to rub at the back of his head. "Well, you know Laguna and company went to that Centra place and got into a real fix, right?" When the other two girls nodded he sighed. "After that, Ward's been working in some sort of prison-like place. And he's bored outta his mind!" the energetic martial-artist announced, pained—as he too had been forced to endure the painful doldrums in his dreams. "All he wants is to be fightin' alongside Laguna."
Rinoa rubbed a little at her arms. "I wonder what it is that you guys are experiencing?"
Zell scowled a little, uncommonly short-tempered given the circumstances. "How the hell should I know?!"
"Well," Selphie suddenly called loudly, "since we're prisoners . . . shouldn't we be trying to break out of here?!"
Zell shot her a look at that, expression bland. Like he wouldn't have already done that if he had even a small shred of inkling as to how to go about it.
"I wonder what happened to Squall . . . and Seifer," Rinoa whispered, almost to herself. Causing the other two to stare at her with softening expressions of sympathy. She wrapped both arms around her knees, head bowed. "Did they bring them here too?"
Zell couldn't rightly give an answer to that, so said nothing. Too afraid to really explore the possibilities himself. Selphie seemed similarly inclined to worried silence as well, biting her lip, shoulders drooping.
After a moment, Rinoa suddenly straightened, brown eyes sharpening. "Um . . . did you just say that Ward was working in some sort of prison?"
Zell raised an eyebrow at her. "Yeah, so?"
"And wasn't he from Galbadia?"
"Sure, he's a soldier there," Zell agreed.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you supposed to be Ward in that dream world?"
"Just now I was," he answered, starting to frown a little, wondering where she was going with this train of thought.
Rinoa's eyebrow raised. "Does this room look familiar?"
Zell snorted to himself, rolling his eyes. Of all the stupid questi—. The blonde tensed, his gaze sharpening into focus and really taking in his surroundings for the first time. Hey? Whoa? Wait a sec . . . Zell shot to his feet with the upsurge of excited adrenaline that was suddenly thundering through his system. "I know this place! Guys, listen up! This is the prison where Ward works at!"
Rinoa just smiled a little bemusedly, while Selphie made a face behind him. "Nice to see he caught up with the rest of us."
"There's so many rooms just like this one," Zell was muttering to himself, oblivious to Selphie's sarcasm. "It's got to be here."
"There's a prison for political activists in Galbadia," Rinoa agreed. "This must be the place where Ward works at. Right where we are. I'm sure of it!"
Selphie let out a heavy sigh. "Well that's no surprise. We did attack the sorceress, after all."
Rinoa swallowed somewhat thickly. "We went up against the president. We'll all be sentenced to death . . . ."
Zell frowned. "The president's no longer in charge," he pointed out. Rinoa hesitated at that, but none of them were soothed by that knowledge.
"Now that Galbadia's in the hands of the sorceress . . . What's going to happen to us?"
Neither Zell or Selphie had a ready answer for that, which was perhaps more frightening than knowing exactly what was in store.
"Things don't look so good," Selphie whimpered softly.
Zell plopped back onto his rear, deflated. What's gonna happen to us? he wondered to himself nervously. And where the hell is that guy, Irvine? And where's Squall and Seifer? And Quistis? Did the sorceress . . . Zell swallowed somewhat thickly at that grisly thought, unwilling to finish it, even to himself.
Unfortunately there were no ready answers forthcoming to his many questions. Only unnerving silence.
Meanwhile Squall was slowly coming to, as well. He sat up gingerly, shaking his head slightly to try and clear it of the fog of confusion that continued to cloud it. He was in some sort of small metal cell it looked like, with a single cot and very crude means of relieving oneself. The confined space smelled heavily of urine, vomit, sweat and blood among other, far less savory things. And it was unbearably hot as well, like a damned oven. He panted a little through his mouth—doing his best not to breathe through his nose so as not to endure the stink of his surroundings any more than he had to—feeling the sticky trickles of sweat coating his entire body beneath his clothes. It took a moment for his befuddled brain to fully recognize the consequences of that odd happenstance.
Squall hadn't been hot in nearly eleven years. Not since he'd first junctioned with Shiva. The fact that he was overheated now meant that she was either gone, or being forcefully suppressed by something. Which did not bode well for him at all, in either case.
Where am I?
Squall slowly sat up—mindful of the slightly nauseous feeling swimming around in his aching head and cramping gut, not in any way helped by the suffocating heat and the smells—and swung his legs over the side of the cot. He braced his elbows on either knee, putting his face in his hands afterward, trying desperately to make sense of the fragmented shards of memories in his brain. Trying to sort out reality from fevered imagination. I . . . challenged Edea, he reminded himself. My wound . . . .
Squall straightened a little and stared down at himself, where the gigantic spike of ice had speared him straight through the chest cavity. The searing agony had been immense. And yet, incredibly, there wasn't even a scar marring his skin where he'd been hit. Though his shirt still bore the torn and bloody hole, which assured him that that particular memory wasn't just a fabricated fantasy.
No wound? he wondered dully. How . . . The Galbadian soldiers, Squall suddenly remembered, more of his memories returning and his vision sharpening just a little more. We were surrounded. And she was there . . . Quistis. Trying to protect Seifer. The sorceress blasted her with something.
"Damn you, Edea!" Squall found himself snarling aloud, his voice ringing oddly off of his metal prison. He shot to his feet, but immediately the world began spinning dangerously. Ill and disoriented, Squall quickly hit his knees.
It took him a moment to realize that it wasn't just his nausea and dizziness making him think the world was tilting dangerously on its axis. That his box-like prison was falling, or was it rising? and at a nerve-wrackingly fast speed to parts unknown.
The three in the group cell suddenly tensed as the loud sound of something mechanical being disengaged thudded throughout the room. Zell shot to his feet out of sheer habit, fists clenched.
"What, what?!" Selphie chirruped, green eyes wide. "What was that loud noise?"
A moment later the door to their cell was unlocked and thrown open. The three of them watched warily as three guards entered. Zell eyed the leader, inwardly groaning at the sneering look of superiority on his face.
I don't like him at all . . . .
"It's the sound of your friends being tortured," the one in the front, who was apparently the higher rank, sneered cruelly, laughing.
"What was that?" Zell demanded angrily, taking a threatening step forward. "What are you doing to them!?" The other two guards immediately raised assault rifles and trained them on his chest, forcing Zell to stop and back down, reluctantly lifting his hands a little in a show of acquiescence instead.
"Got ourselves a tough guy, eh?" the leader snarled. "You don't wanna screw around with me, pissant. Just who the fuck do you think is in charge here!?" Zell just held his ground, blue eyes narrowed. He'd been tormented by the likes of Seifer Almasy for most of his tender adolescence. This skinny prison guard prick didn't even come close on the intimidation scale. His face flushing with fury, as he wasn't getting the proper amount of submission that he preferred, the guard suddenly rushed forward and grabbed Zell by the neck. He shoved the more powerful male up against the wall, burying his baton into the blonde's throat hard enough to start choking him. The deadly martial-artist forced himself not to retaliate to the attack through sheer force of will—mindful of the assault rifles still pointed at him. Instead he just continued to glare blandly. "I asked you a question!"
"Lemme guess," Zell finally growled through the lacquered wood shoved against his neck. "A couple of muscle-bound bullies dunked your head in a toilet one too many times as a kid, is that it. Shoved you in a locker? Or did Uncle Vernon used to sneak in your room at night and touch you in the naughty place—,"
Zell's brief moment of defiance was cut short by that baton whipping around and cracking him across the face. Pain exploded through his skull, forcing the SeeD to his knees. He let out a loud growl then through the blood flooding into his mouth, and tensed as if to straighten, yet jerked to a halt again when the barrel of a gun was suddenly shoved against his temple. Zell forced himself not to move or bother defending himself as the now purple-faced leader began kicking him in the ribs. Just curling inward somewhat and doing his best to try and keep from getting any broken bones.
On the sixth kick, Rinoa finally shot to her feet, eyes glistening with tears. "Stop!" she screamed, tone strangled.
Amazingly, he did so. Zell just collapsed a little, cradling his throbbing side and wincing through the pain.
"Heh," the guard chuckled somewhat, out of breath. "I almost forgot why I'd come in here." Zell hissed a little in protest when the bastard grabbed a fist-full of his hair and yanked his head up. "Hey man," the guard growled in a deceptively friendly tone. "is there a Rinoa Caraway in here with you?"
Rinoa took a step forward, ignoring Zell's pained glare. "I'm Rinoa," she called.
The guard grinned, releasing Zell with a jerk. "Good. Come over here."
The guard not shoving a gun to the back of Zell's skull quickly stepped over and grabbed the dark-haired girl by the arm.
Zell forced himself up a little, ignoring the blood dripping down the front of his chin. "What are you gonna do to Rinoa, you bastard?" he snarled through teeth clenched against the pain in his ribs.
This time it was more the swimming fuzziness in his head than any force of will that kept Zell from protecting himself against the boot that slammed against his jaw, sending him sprawling backward in a graceless heap, out cold.
"Stop it already!" Selphie cried angrily.
"Stop," Rinoa repeated. "I'll go," she assured them as calmly as she was able.
The leader motioned with his head then, and the other two guards took up positions beside her and began ushering Rinoa out of the cell. Selphie watched them leave, eyes wide.
"Rinoa . . . ."
The dark-haired girl managed a smile over her shoulder, trying to appear brave. "I'll be fine," she murmured softly, then straightened again. "Let's go."
A moment later they were gone, the door slammed shut and locked behind them.
Seifer hissed in protest as the little metal box he was locked inside came to an abrupt, jarring stop—forcing him to his knees. Still groggy, stiff and sore, he wasn't as quick as he might have been previously in recovering. He had no idea how long he'd been trapped in the hot, horrid-smelling prison, only that it was more than a little while.
He did his best to straighten with some ingrained sense of self-preservation when the side of the box opened. The air that rushed in wasn't any cooler than the air he'd been suffering, but it was at least a bit fresher in smell and Seifer breathed it in greedily. He watched somewhat warily as a tall Galbadian officer stepped forward then, eying his prone form coldly.
Before Seifer had a chance to do more than scowl back, the officer motioned and several guards suddenly moved forward. "Take him."
Seifer growled and shifted a little in futility, but in the end he was helpless to keep from getting grabbed by several pairs of hands and then hauled roughly to his feet. He was yanked out of the box and onto a platform of some sort instead. Then he hit his knees again with a pained roar when what felt like the butt of a rifle connected with his kidney from behind. The air around him rang with grating laughter as he curled in slightly, wheezing.
"So this is one of the almighty SeeD, eh?" one of them called, laughing. "Pathetic!"
Seifer snarled slightly, twisting on the floor and grabbing a foot of the one who had spoken. Before they could stop him he twisted sharply with all his strength, dislocating if not breaking the bastard's ankle, causing him to fall back with a shrill scream. Then Seifer curled up again and did his best to protect himself from the barrage of kicks and blows that rained down on top of him in instant retaliation.
"Enough!" someone finally barked, impatient. "Get him to the interrogation room. The warden has to deal with that blonde girl after this."
Seifer tensed a little, a small shred of hope flaring to life in his gut. Could it be . . . Quistis? She had spared him, after all. Was she being held here as well, then? He allowed himself to be yanked back to his feet again, and then they started half-leading, half-dragging him forward.
"I hope the warden leaves a little bit of that beauty for the rest of us," one of the guards chuckled, rubbing crudely at the front of his fatigues, gaining several chuckles of agreement from his fellows. Seifer felt his eyes narrow in impudent rage. "Haven't had a piece in here that pretty in a long long time."
He was helpless to do more than stew, however, as he was dragged into what they had termed the 'interrogation room.' It was a somewhat large chamber filled with various machinery, a large, wet stone wall to one side with what could only be restraints bolted into it. Seifer eyed them warily, a hard, cold ugliness settling into the pit of his belly. His gaze was caught by movement to the side just afterward, and was somewhat surprised to see Squall being dragged in from another direction. The brunette looked as battered and beat up as he himself felt.
The guards started stripping them afterward, ripping and tugging sharply until their already ruined clothes were nothing but tatters at their feet, leaving the two teens in nothing but their underwear. Then they were being shoved forward, lifted up and strapped to the concrete wall with their feet together and their arms spread wide. A steady, slow stream of ice-cold water poured down the wall and within moments they were both drenched. Seifer grimaced, wrists twisting helplessly in the thick leather bonds as one of the technicians started attaching electrodes to his now wet, shivering flesh.
Seifer knew exactly what they were getting ready to do. As a SeeD, he'd been trained extensively in several different methods of torture. But knowing about it and being on the verge of experiencing it firsthand were two very different kettles of fish. He glanced to the side and found Squall staring at him, expression blank. Yet Seifer saw a mirror to the cold horror he himself felt in those steel-blue eyes. As well as the same stone-faced determination. Seifer just jerked his chin slightly in acknowledgement before he turned forward again, taking a deep breath and doing his best to try and prepare himself for the hell that was coming.
Most of the guards filed out after that, leaving only the slightly pot-bellied toad near the controls, smirking up at them in sheer anticipation.
"I'm sure you two can guess what happens next," the bastard almost purred.
"Squall, remind me to send a complaint to the front desk when we get outta here, would ya?" Seifer heaved, ignoring the warden completely. "Their bedside manner sucks."
Below, the Warden scowled slightly. "What is SeeD?" he demanded then. "Edea demands to know!"
"SeeD?" Squall croaked, his voice cracking slightly from lack of water and pain. Both of them were visibly shaking from the wet and the cold, as well as a touch of the adrenaline thundering through their systems in preparation for what was coming. "You mean those little things you put in the ground? Well with a little water, patience, and some sunlight and love, you'll have yourself a pretty little flower."
The warden's face flushed before he reached over and threw a switch. Both Squall and Seifer immediately began thrashing and grimacing in pain as cruel amounts of electricity pumped through their bodies. It stopped a moment later, leaving them both trembling and gasping for breath.
"There must be some secret you're told when you graduate!" the warden insisted. "What is SeeD?"
Seifer coughed. "Oh. Now I . . . Now I know what you meant. Well . . . you see . . . when you play with Little Warden a little too much, this stuff comes shooting out—,"
He was forced to stop mid-sentence as the warden shocked the shit out of them again.
"If you two won't talk, I'll be forced to speak to the others," the Warden warned harshly. "That tattooed loud-mouth, or perhaps that tiny brunette? Or maybe the sorceress' former toy? She used to be a SeeD. I'd hate to have to take my anger at you two out on those girls," he growled low. "I already have such plans for them, after all."
Despite the hot fury that pooled in his blood at the thought of this sick bastard coming anywhere near Quistis or Selphie, or the spasms of agony licking at his muscles, Seifer forced his head to turn toward Squall. He blinked the water out of his eyes enough to glare at his companion.
"Well this is a nice cluster-fuck you've managed to get us in to," he snapped viciously. "Way to go, Oh Fearless Leader." Squall managed to work up a scowl of his own through the streaks of blood snaking down his face and chest. If they could keep each other coherent, they might yet survive this nightmare.
"Fuck you, Almasy!" Squall snarled back, playing along seamlessly. Seifer let out a wry bark of laughter at that.
"Hah! Take a number, jackass—."
Again they were interrupted by another violent jolt of electricity, this one much stronger than the others. Seifer's back bowed up completely off of the wet stone, straining against his bonds and unwillingly letting out a scream of pain through his clenched teeth. One as loud as the tortured sound that tore out of Squall's chest as well.
"Cure!"
Zell let out a shrill yelp, twisting away from Selphie and her well-meaning attempts to try and cure his injuries. She sighed heavily afterward, slumping.
"Aw, it's no use. There's some sort of anti-magic field in here. It's suppressing Fee, I can't hear him or feel him at all."
Zell just rolled up into a pained sitting position on his own, sighing heavily. He'd been unconscious for a lot of it, but Selphie had announced that Rinoa had been gone for a disturbingly long amount of time. At least a day, she thought, though she couldn't be entirely sure either. It was unnerving in the extreme, not knowing what was going on.
They both tensed when the door to their cell suddenly opened again, but relaxed again when one of the orange-furred, lion-like creatures loped inside. Moombas, they were called, apparently used as cheap labor here at the prison. This one was carrying two trays of food, their dinner apparently—or breakfast—it was hard to tell. The food was about as indistinguishable as the flow of time in this place.
The Moomba scampered forward eagerly. A little too eagerly, unfortunately, as his large paws became tangled up in each other and he suddenly hit the floor face first. The trays launched out of his front paws, and Zell just managed to dodge the glob of unknown substance that came hurtling his way. The blonde grimaced afterward.
"Hey!" came an annoyingly familiar voice just outside of the cell. "What was that noise?!"
The asshole guard from earlier suddenly entered, and scowled heavily at the sight of the Moomba sprawled on the floor. "You again!" he growled, stalking forward. The bastard delivered a sharp kick to the poor thing, who whimpered in pain and went flying backward.
Despite the soreness in his body, Zell felt his temper ignite at the cruel treatment of the poor thing, letting out a low growl. He shot to his feet, Selphie soon following suit, a scowl on her own face.
"Yo!" he snarled. "Who the hell do you think you are?"
"Yeah, you big meanie!" Selphie seconded. "Stop that!"
The bastard guard just sneered, whirling around to strike Zell with his club. The sound of Zell catching the weapon before it could come anywhere near his face cracked out through the room with the sound of a gunshot. Zell's fist tightened on the wooden weapon dangerously, meeting the now wide-eyed and nervous guard's stare with a steely look of his own before he effortlessly shoved him backward.
The guard continued stumbling back. As Zell suspected, now that he was faced with a fair fight, the bastard was quick to retreat. "Y-you'll regret that!" he yelped somewhat shakily, before near-falling through the doorway and slamming it shut again afterward.
"He's so mean," Selphie growled under her breath, then sighed and knelt down to the fallen Moomba. The creature, obviously terrified, sat up and skittered back nervously, cringing away from her. "You ok?" the small girl questioned softly, green eyes filled with sympathy. "Doesn't work so well, but . . ." She closed her eyes, then gestured. "Cure!"
A swirl of energy surrounded the orange creature, and the scuff marks slowly faded from its ribs. The Moomba patted at itself in obvious disbelief, then turned back to her with wide-eyed wonder, causing Zell and Selphie both to chuckle good-naturedly.
"Well now, since you two seem like you're in a little more of a cooperative mood," the warden murmured nastily to the two teens hanging somewhat limply from their restraints. "I'll ask you again. What is SeeD? Why do they oppose the sorceress?"
Squall struggled to think through the haze of agony eating at him. It was hard. Very hard. He and Seifer had done their best to try and keep each other functioning, but he feared they were quickly losing the struggle. SeeD . . . Oppose the sorceress? he wondered to himself dully.
Another guard suddenly entered, barely casting a glance in his and Seifer's direction. "Sir, the missiles targeted for the Garden are ready to launch."
"Excellent," the warden sneered, nodding for the guard to leave them again. He turned toward the two shocked prisoners, grin wide. "Balamb Garden is to be destroyed on charges of training SeeDs to oppose the sorceress," he announced cheerily.
What?! Squall screamed in his head, but refused to show any outward reaction beyond gritting his teeth and clenching his fists.
"It's a pity really . . . the Gardens have been a monument for quite some time. Ah, well, orders and orders and Edea wants it destroyed."
"N-no . . ." Squall hissed despite himself. Beside him, Seifer looked equally sickened and enraged.
"You can't do that," the blonde snarled, causing the Warden to laugh.
"Sure we can. And after the Gardens are destroyed, the SeeD hunt will begin." His grin was thin-lipped and filled with gleeful malice. "Every one of your kind will be hunted down and wiped off the face of the planet." His expression hardened. "Unless one of you two give me a reason to think they're no longer a threat. Hm-m? Either one of you ready to talk yet?!"
"I . . . don't understand . . . the question," Squall forced out, pained.
The warden scowled. "Don't fuck with me, boy. Edea says you know something. Now spit it out! What is SeeD all about?!" he punctuated the demand by shocking them both again.
Squall hung from his restraints after it stopped, panting heavily, too tired to try and hold himself up anymore. SeeD . . . Aren't we . . . mercenaries . . . from Balamb Garden . . . Special Forces . . . ?
"Well? Have I sufficiently jogged your memories yet?"
Squall just hung there, shaking his head. I . . . I don't know any . . . anything . . . W-why . . . do . . . you . . . keep . . . asking . . . me . . . Just let me die . . . .
Despite the pain and the fatigue, Squall still found himself muttering something.
"What's that?" The warden neared where Squall hung limply.
Slowly, the teen lifted his head, revealing narrow blue eyes spitting hate and defiance. He mustered up every bit of what he had left in him and spit as much as he could into the bastard's face. "I said your breath stinks!" he hissed weakly.
The warden fell back with an enraged bellow, while Seifer cackled weakly beside him. "You tell him, Pubes."
The warden furiously wiped the spittle from his face. "Punks," he snarled. "You asked for it!" Squall tried to summon up a measure of fear as he saw the prison guard crank the controls to their maximum setting. Instead he felt only dull resignation just before the violent surge of electricity pumped into his body.
Both of them screamed again.
"How's that? How you like me now, huh?!" the warden snarled.
Squall was beyond caring what that bastard had to say, however. Instead he felt the blackness coming hard over the top of him, and welcomed the peace. Good-bye . . . .