Not all stories have been told, there sits another that lays deep within the boundaries of known history.
It's a gentle summer day in the bustling city of Luca, the heartbeat of Spira's sports entertainment scene. The crowds are dense as they flock towards the stadium where the Blitzball Tournament is currently being held. The city is alive with the sounds of music and chatter, and the air is thick with the scent of food and spices.
All of the businesses boom at this time of year, from armor and potion shops, to cafes and bars. Everybody comes to Luca to take their mind off of the over arcing threat that is Sin. And this year, it's just the same as nearly every-year. One of the Bars in particular appear to be rather filled to the brim actually, A small place just by the Docks named 'Stir and Sip Bar'. Not exactly the most original of names, but it's always a fan favourite, especially when it comes to the various tourists that make their way past.
The bar is a lively and crowded place, filled with exciting sports fans of all races. You had your Ronso, your Al Bhed, Your Average everyday Spiran, and even a few of the more rarer races that littered Spira like the Guado and yes, even a Hypello or two. But the attraction of this story wasn't really focused on any of these rather diverse bunch, No, unfortunately, we're stuck with a tale more older than time itself. It always starts, in a tavern.
A wooden counter spans across the entire length of the room, and various types of liqour and bottles line the shelves behind it. Several tables and chairs are scattered throughout the establishment, each with their own set of sports fans discussing the latest Blitzball news and predictions for the upcoming tournament. The room is filled with the scent of cigarette smoke and the sound of clinking glasses and boisterous laughter.
Though not everybody appears to be all cheerful. Alas, a single figure appears slouched out across the counter, fast asleep. Whoever this was, it appears they had too much to drink. Despite their current state, they still manage to exude an air of stoicism and a general lack of concern for those around him. This, is Leo.
Leo's like every other run of the mill Spiran, going about their lives; trying to adhere to the laws of Yevon. Except he's not like MOST people, No- Leo's a real dick when he wants to be. He was in the business of Mercenary work, moving from one place to the other searching for any sort of job that would earn him Gil. And to have that sort of work, you had to be pretty uptight in certain situations. Despite it all, he had a simple work ethic. You got a job? Good. You got the Gil? Good. If not? You can turn your ass around; because he's not the type to give out charity work.
Slowly, he raises his head, the soft mop of light brown hair gently snaking out in a soft part around his forehead revealing his light green eyes, although lacking the Al Bhed swirl. Most people would assume that somebody who was clear out of their mind would have been guzzling on a fair number of bottles, no? However, Leo wasn't much of a drinker- in fact, the only time he drank alcohol was to take the edge off, and boy, there was no edge off here.
No, our intrepid 'hero' here, was in the swifts of sleep depredation. You see, he just got finished with his most recent of jobs. It wasn't entirely all that bad, but it did require him to stay up for a good eighteen hours. It was supposed to be nothing more than simple caravan guard duty. A few merchants from the Mushroom Rock Plains wanted to get to Luca before the big Tournament, so time constraints forced him to miss out on shut eye. They weren't the rich type, only capable of hiring one Merc, 'Him' to be specific. So while the two slept, Leo was left to stand guard, keeping an eye out and dealing with any Fiends that though they could snatch and easy meal. Once his contract was complete, they paid him a good thousand Gil, and headed on their own way. Unfortunately, a thousand gil is worth nothing during such a big event like this; prices go up to prey on unsuspecting tourists,
As Leo's eyes slowly flutter open, he rubs them wearily, trying to shake off the grogginess from his recent power-nap. The dimly lit bar around him is filled with the clamor of Blitzball fans and their excited chatter, which only added to his already growing headache. The air is thick with the scent of cigarette smoke, stale beer, and the musk of sweat.
Soon enough, he can feel one of his legs beginning to cramp; it's a sign that he needed to get back to work, or at least find some work. He peels himself off of the barstool, stretching his muscles with a prominent pop, the brown leather jacket he wore creaking in protest. Then, he reaches behind his waist, tugging out a small handful of Gil. "Get me a packet of smokes." he speaks, voice still subtly awakening.
"Comin' right up." The bartender replies, a middle aged man who likely owned the joint himself. His balding head and thick moustache is likely the most notable thing about him, aside from his subtle drawing accent. He reaches beneath the counter to a small box, pulling out a fresh pack for him. It's a well-known brand throughout Spira, with a logo of a dragon breathing fire on the front. The bartender sets it down in front of him, snatching up the Gil coins with an affirming nod, though curious at the state of the young man in front of him.
"Rough day huh?" the owner asked, watching his customer slip one of the cigarettes between his lips
"You have no idea" they answer, rolling the cigarette around on their lips whilst in search for their lighter. It took him a good few moments before the Merc groans, catching a feeling that he may have lost it during that last encounter with a few fiends. Luckily, the Bartender leans over, flicking out a silver zippo lighter and lighting the butt for him, tucking it back into the pocket of their vest.
"What brings you to Luca? Here for the Tournament?" The bartender asks, reaching out for a nearby glass and rag and proceeding to polish.
"Just passing through," A blunt reply, but clear enough to shoot down much bother.
"I.. see. Well, feel free to stick around for a bit longer, it's not often we get a lot of Mercenaries in here this time of year, mostly people travelling from Kilika and Besaid, most of 'em are here for the Tournament of course."
As the Bartender continued to recount a tale from a few years back, a group of rowdy Blitzball fans stumble into the bar, their cheers and jeers filling the air. They seem to be in high spirits, probably having just watched the most recent match between the Al Bhed and Ronso. One of them, a tall, muscular man with blue hair, notices the lack of sport support from the Mercenary- they don't appear to be wearing any team colors. Of course, nobody would take too much notice of such a thing, if this particular man wasn't in the middle of a pub-crawl.
"Hey! What's a guy like you doin' in a place like this? Ain't you got any sports spirit!" He shouts, staggering over to the Merc, who silently grunts at the intrusive man. Leo can practically hear the heavy breath on his shoulder, such a scent thick with alcohol. Yet our hero opts to take the silent path, merely ignoring such a man without even so much as a word.
Clearly, this wasn't the best response, as it only angered the blue haired man, stammering over towards Leo. "Hey! Don't ignore me! I'm talkin' to you!" They aren't too kind, even throwing an arm out to grip the Merc's arm. Again, it's no issue to Leo, he merely shrugs off the man's hand.
The drunken man stumbles back, nearly falling to the ground. He slurs his words "Who do you think you are, kid? You think you're too good to talk to me?!" It's only then does the drunkard raise a fist up in the air, a shoddy and drunk attempt to throw their inebriated anger towards somebody.
It's probably the biggest mistake he could have jacket toting teenager is up from the stool within a second, sidestepping with somewhat of a spring in his step. It causes the drunkard to lose his balance and stumble forward. Of course, Leo takes advantage of the opening and grabs the man's arm, tightly twisting it behind his back, then sending him sailing off towards an empty table with a loud clatter.
"Stay down" Leo calls back, attempting to make his exit before things escalate. Unfortunately, this wasn't over. The Drunkard's friends just so happened to be two burly Ronso who step forward and block the exit, baring their teeth in a threatening manner. The Merc isn't too impressed, taking two steps back.
"I don't have time for this. Move, or I'll find another table to through you both through." There's a hint of irritation in Leo's voice now, looks like he's not too happy, honestly- would you be? Just trying to enjoy a nice smoke when you're interrupted by the 'locals'. He rolls the subtly burning cigarette on his lips, only to be taken by complete surprise by the Ronso's speed. The first one charges at him, tackling him firm with their overwhelming strength.
They collide with the counter, the wood groans under the weight and the glasses and bottles on top rattle and clink. A few of them tip over, spilling their contents across the counter and onto the floor. The force of the impact leaves a sizable dent in the wood too, and a few of the decorative carvings on the front are knocked loose, falling to the ground. Several of the other patrons quickly grab their drinks and move to any other tables away from the conflict, not wanting to get caught up in the confrontation. The hulking beast-man proceeds to punch the Merc in gut, over and over- They start to feel the weight beneath them sink as if Leo was losing consciousness, yet they're shocked and staggered when they feel the full weight of a glass bottle shatter across their face, staggering the Ronso back.
Leo props himself up on his elbows, leaning over to spit out the blood amongst his gums, then pushes himself off the counter. He takes two good firm steps before hopping on the third, throwing his leg out in a powerful jump kick right into the Ronso's chest, it sends him crashing into a nearby table, causing it to flip over and send plates and cups clattering onto the ground, The other patrons in the bar begin to back away, some of them cowering in fear, as Leon turns his attention to the other Ronso.
They charge at him, much like their look-alike, but once again; it appears that Leo is much more coherent, not at all as drunk as they assumed him to be. The Merc snatches the Ronso's arm, using the momentum and a firm leg trip to throw him over his shoulder with a powerful Judo flip, Looks like the title of Mercenary wasn't just something he threw around, this kid really knew how to fight!
The blue haired man from before has managed to bring himself back up, yet this time he's playing a little dirty, He reaches to his boot and produces a large combat knife. Leo turns his head to the side, as if catching this happen in his peripheral. This was no longer a fist fight; the man had drawn a weapon. Like a dancer, Leo side slips the first jab directed at him with the blade, his hands finding itself gripping the hilt of his own weapon tucked behind his waist. With a sharp tug and a violently fast flourish, the blade extends to reveal a Gunblade.
It's certainly a unique and intimidating weapon. It had a sleek silver blade with a serrated edge, about three feet long, and an intricate gun mechanism attached to the hilt. The gun part is metallic black and has a circular barrel, which is about six inches long. The trigger is on the underside of the handle, with the cylinder that holds bullets located above it. The handle is wrapped in a dark brown leather grip, and there are several notches in the blade, giving it a distinct appearance.
It's wielder is clearly an expert with it, swinging it with little to no effort and parrying the knife with such strength that it sends it flying out of the drunkard's hands. It goes spinning across the bar, embedding itself into the wooden wall frame, leaving a deep gash in the oak. The drunken male turns to look back at their disarmer, only to find the tip of the Gunblade at his throat.
Everybody goes dead silent, having watched the confrontation with bated breath. The Ronso, who only just now had gotten to their feet; start to back away towards the exit, realizing that the situation had escalated far beyond what they intended.
"Alright, Alright! Everybody just calm down now. I think it's time for all of you to leave before things get even MORE out of hand" spouts the bartender, stepping forward from behind the counter.
Leo kept the Gunblade at his surrender's throat for a moment longer, The Drunkard still frozen, finally realizing the severity of the situation... before finally, Leo retracts it back into it's folded form, hooking it onto the back waist sheath with ease.
They all scatter, rushing out of the Bar with a whimper to their step, the Merc merely pinches the tip of his cigarette and drags it from his lips, exhaling a long haul of smoke into the air. "Thanks for the smoke." he speaks to the Bartender, headed out towards the door.
As he steps outside, he takes a deep breath of fresh sea air, relieved to be out of the chaotic mess. From where he was, he could see the giant stadium not too far way. But again, he wasn't interested in the sport. Instead? He heads off towards the nearest Crusader Lodge in the hopes of finding work.
His walk is a brief, but memorable one. The streets are crowded with people of all ages, races, and backgrounds. The city is decorated with banners and posters promoting the upcoming blitzball tournament, which is the talk of the town. The excitement in the air is palpable as fans eagerly anticipate the tournament's start. Vendors are selling all sorts of souvenirs, including team jerseys, hats, and flags. The smell of food fills the air, and the sound of music and chatter creates a cacophony of noise. The city is alive with energy and excitement, and it's clear that everyone is ready to celebrate the tournament's arrival. The crowds may have been thick, but he's capable of pushing pass the people with little concern. Reaching the Crusader Lodge of Luca- a somewhat hotspot for Mercs like him, always happy to take on a bounty or two for some fresh Gil.
One look and you could know how important the place was. It's a towering structure made of stone and wood with a sign bearing the Crusader's emblem at the entrance. The lodge is located in a bustling area of the city, surrounded by shops, cafes, and other establishments.
It appears that due to the current event, the doors weren't shut, they were wedged open via the use of banisters that show the insignia of the lodge. He paces himself inside, stepping aside for a few of the already busy working Crusaders, offering them a gentle nod of recognition before proceeding into the building. he's greeted by the sight of a spacious lobby with a high ceiling and intricate wooden carvings. The walls are adorned with tapestries depicting scenes from the battles against Sin, the monstrous entity that has terrorized the world of Spira for over a thousand years. The air is filled with the scent of incense, which is a common feature in Spiran religious and ceremonial practices, though you'd most likely find them in a Temple than here.
To Leo's right, there's a desk where a receptionist is seated, attending to visitors and members of the Crusader's Lodge. The receptionist is wearing a green uniform with the Crusader's emblem on it and has a friendly demeanor as she greets Leo with a simple nod, it appears she knew who he was without even needing to ask; likely due to his constant work that at times, would lead him here.
Further inside the lobby, there are several doors leading to different sections of the lodge. One door leads to a training area where members of the Crusader's Lodge practice their combat skills, while another leads to a few meeting rooms, as well as an armory..
Overall, the Luca Branch of the Crusader's Lodge is a place of activity and purpose, dedicated to the protection of Spira and its people. Despite the ongoing excitement of the blitzball tournament, there's a solemn and determined air within the lodge, as its members prepare for whatever challenges and battles may lie ahead.
Sadly for then, Leo isn't here to lend his aid in the 'fight against Sin'. No, he's no religious type, and he sure isn't the Guardian of a Summoner. His eyes catch forth to the large note board off to the far left of the reception. There are a few people dotted there, yet none of true concern. A few Crusader wading their options. They do get paid for the hunt, but they only receive a cut of the profits, it's likely why most people prefer to do Mercenary work. Speaking of Mercenaries, it appears he wasn't the only one here today- no, not at all. There's two, and by Yevon they were familiar.
One was a tall man, his bronze skin and feathered cloak gave him away immediately. On his back was a bow, enhanced in ways by the use of Machina invention, giving him an absolute edge in battle. His hair was long and black, braided into a ponytail, and his face was stern yet kind. He was from one of the Islands near Kilika, known for it's tribal people that were more Intune this nature than the worries of Spira.
Aside him was a woman with short spikey blonde hair and a long scar above her right brow. She had a firm look to her face, a lot more muscled than the usual lady you would come across. Over her shoulder, held by a nifty leather sling was a large single sided axe, It had seen it's wear and tear over the years, but it still held true to keep people from 'messing' with her.
"Kai, Maya." Leo called upon his approach, both turning to look at him with both surprise and relief.
"Lil Leo? S'at you?" spoke Maya, she had a deep voice for a woman, though you could still tell she was very much a lady with her chest armor curving the facilitate her lady-like 'charms'.
"Nobody calls me that anymore." Leo answer, showing a little irritation
"It's good to see you again, Young Leo." Kai speaks, nodding his head out of respect, his arms still crossed across his leather armor.
"Or that either.. sheesh, It's been two years, are you guys ever going to speak to me like a proper adult?"
"Ahhh, don't be like that squirt. You'll always be a kid to us." Maya spouts, lunging over to grab the young merc in a head lock.
"Gnnh!" He struggles, eventually freeing himself with a firm shove, Maya merely laughing at his recoil.
"Are some of the others in town as well?"
"That they are, as is most of the Company. However they already have their own contracts, we unfortunately received.. how they say. 'dull end of the stick'" Kai retorts, showing his discomfort
"Bromm in town as well?" Leo questions, his eyes shifting around the Crusader's Lodge in search for the being inparticular.
"Boss-man? Course, Though he's workin' with Raze and Tenn. Lotta high valued during the tournament, most of 'em 'Cardinals' from Bevelle, Though I hear that they got a job guardin' one of the Maesters." Maya answers, a huff to follow, returning her eyes to the various job posters.
"Raze? Really? Isn't he the same age as me?"
Kai interjects, catching the subtle irratation on Leo's face, attempting to sate his curiousity."He is. Bromm was against it at first, but Raze eventually convinced him. Though I use that word lightly."
"Idiot challenged him to a fight. Got the tar kicked outta him but he was still standin' tall after it." Maya hissed at such a memory, remembering rather vividly the bruising and scarring.
Leo attempts to change the topic, asking Kai and Maya, "Are you guys in Luca for the Tournament?"
Kai responds first, saying, "Every few years, they have this Tournament. It's prime time for us Mercenaries. So I assume we will be busy."
Maya adds, "But we might might watch a game or two if we have some downtime. You know I'm always up for a good fight, even if it's just on the blitzball field."
Leo nods, understanding the nature of their work as mercenaries. He knows that they often take on assignments that require discretion and confidentiality, and that their loyalty lies with their clients.
"Well, if you see Bromm, Tell him I said Hi."
"Gladly. It's been a good long time since I've seen you at the Camp, I'm sure everybody misses you." Kai has always been the go-between, the calmest of all. So pairing up with Maya was rather interesting as she was usually the hot headed fighter.
"The Wild Roses are gonna be fine without me. I want to spread my wings. Try my own hand at doing my own jobs on my own terms." Leo retorts, an air of stoicism about him.
"Ooooh? Lil Leo getting' too old for us?" Maya laughs. Upon this irritation, Leo lunges forward and tears off a random job from the board. He didn't even look, just took it and started walking off.
"Hahaha! Bastard!" Again, Maya is always the unruly one, returning to their conversation with Kai as the younger Merc makes his way out of the Crusader Lodge. His eyes pan down to the flyer, eyes scanning the words for the details. It's pretty basic grunt work. 'Extra Security' for the Stadium. Most of the fliers weren't even combat oriented, a lot of them just for 'extra hands'. He paces through the winding city streets, folding the parchment into his pocket; the festivities still in full swing. Everything about Luca felt cultural, It was one of the main hubs of trade considering it's large docks that spanned all the way between the stadium and the main city.
Blitzball wasn't just a 'Game' for Luca, it was a part of their entire way of life. It was a source of community and identity for the people of Luca, A form of unity that only happened once every few years. Again, he never found interest in the sport itself, but with such a lively turnout, how could you not get into the spirit? As he reaches the stadium, it's pretty straight forward from there. A simple approach at the counter, followed by the handing in of the flyer, and the staff issue him an area to keep an watchful eye over. Some might have been bothered that it wasn't inside of the Stadium, but he didn't care, he was perfectly content with standing outside near the docks and relaxing.
The following hour went down as much as you could expect. A small disagreement here, a lost tourist there; it's of no importance, the crowds usually died down when one of the Games were on, and as of right now; it was the Besaid Aurochs vs the Al Bhed Psyches; their opening match against one another. Leo was left outside the stadium, his back pressed up against the wall with a sizzling cigarette between his lips- he's bored out of his mind but it's work, so he can't complain.
"Drec fyo, Xiead!" A voice from the corridors, Al Bhed whispers. They're trying to keep themselves descreet, and lucky for them, The smoker had not noticed.
"Meddma kiynt rana, ed femm pa ayco" One of them was more slender and shorter than the rest, A male for sure- but ahead of the group of five. From their tone, they seemed more confident
They come around the side, a B-Line leading out of the Stadium, yet they're stopped by their lanky leader who flattens up against the side, their eyes narrowed beneath their goggles."Fyed! Cusaputo drana."
"Renat Calinedo, Sanlahyno?" A second pokes their head out from behind. It's a larger male, muscular and tall. They seemed to be carrying somebody over their shoulder, somebody who was unconscious.
"Ed hud syddan, drana suna uv ic, uha uv dras." But the Slender Al Bhed smirks, shaking his head dismissively and reaching to his side. It was a rather large wrench, big enough for two hands. They make their approach slowly, crouched and remaining unaware.
Now, Leo may have been a great fighter, perhaps one of the best- but he wasn't exactly the greatest when it came to spacial awareness. It probably would have done him better if he wasn't so focused on enjoying his cigarette, because he never saw that blunt wrench coming;
"HGN!" is all the Merc got out as they whack him hard against the back of the head with a loud THUNK! Rendering Leo totally unconscious.
"Toko! Fryd yna oui tuehk! Dra Lnuft femm pa uid cuuh!" Spouts a third, a female this time, clearly taller than the lanky one, her tone that of irritation.
"Ur.. An, Dyga res duu! Fa vekina uid mydan!" The 'leader' spouts, jogging ahead to check if the coast was clear. The musuclar Al Bhed sighs, shaking his head in disapproval. They hadn't planned this out properly, but they had no choice. They lean down and scoop the Mercenary up, throwing over their other shoulder.
"Lusa! Lusa! Du Creb!" The small one returns, beckoning the others with the gesture of their hand. What started as a simple Merc job had slowly become something much more troubling...