Before Crisis: The Beginning

By DarkAngel

Disclaimer: Esme Weatherwax aten't dead and Before Crisis aten't mine.

Chapter 19: Costa del Sol

Samantha had visited Costa del Sol many times before with her family, on vacations or business trips. Here in Costa, the sun always shone, the waves providing a refreshing backdrop day or night to one's activities. The sun kissed brown bodies of beautiful people at work and play; the laughter of families, lovers and music from the steel drums and bands that set up impromptu concerts on the beach – they were as much a part of Costa as snow was on the Icicle continent.

Of course, this only applied to the beach and the immediate environs. Outside the central resort area, things were different. The closely clustered hotels and beach villas gave way to suburbs, and then to increasingly dilapidated shanty towns. Samantha had never been that far out – she had never, properly speaking, even been to the suburbs where most of the local residents lived. Her parents had taken up a villa house close enough to the beach that she could enjoy its splendours whenever she pleased, but far enough out of the way that gaggles of tourists weren't drunkenly carousing just outside their front door.

It was too bad Samantha reflected, tossing her hair over her shoulder, that she couldn't stop there or even work on a tan. Instead she was clad in a stifling black suit that trapped heat, making her feel as if she were wearing some sort of death shroud, trying to look inconspicuous whilst holding a weapon that was by no means compact and certainly not something the beach goddesses would ever dream of carrying. The whole experience was awkward, and the only blessing out of the whole thing to Samantha was that she was actually outside of the tourist area and closer to those suburbs and shanties her parents had made off-limits to her when she was younger.

After having walked for twenty minutes, she found herself in a residential area filled left and right with whitewashed buildings with reddish-orange slated tiles. At the end of the street, she spotted the place she was looking for. It would have been indistinguishable from the other houses in the area if it hadn't been for the big, burly bouncer standing at the entrance with his arms crossed.

"So this is Club Duel," she murmured to herself. One of the best fighter's clubs in the area, Club Duel was known for the crudity and no holds barred fighting style of its patrons. Rude had told her as much, anyway; he had spent some time in his younger days training himself up here.

Hefting the weight of her shotgun in her hands, Samantha approached the entrance. The bouncer stepped forward.

"Hey, you can't just waltz in here," he said, sneering down at her. His eyes took her in, his suggestive expression tempered slightly when he saw the big gun in her hands. He took another step forward, this time slightly cautious owing to her firepower. Samantha smiled winningly.

"I just wanted to take a look. Can't I? Just for a few minutes?"

He eyed her more carefully this time, something in his mental appraisal telling him that there was something about this woman that was the slightest bit off. Samantha upped the voltage. Stepping forward, she lowered the weapon, tilting her head just so and lowering her voice for effect.

"Please?"

"Well…" He sounded unsure of himself now. Samantha took the advantage.

"Thank you," she said, smiling brightly, trotting past him.

The inside of Club Duel was like a barn. Samantha wrinkled her nose. It certainly smelled like one. She was almost surprised that there weren't hay bales and chocobos in here.

The interior of Club Duel had once been a private residence. After its acquisition by the club's owners, the walls had been knocked down so that the club was essentially one big hall with packed dirt on the floor and reinforced walls. The majority of the patrons crowded around the walls. They'd cleared a space in the centre of the room for two fighters, who were scrapping with each other viciously, punching and kicking in rhythm to the chanting that seemed to make the whole place shake.

"King! King! King!"

Samantha worked her way through the crowds, who in any case were too caught up in the fight to pay her much heed.

There were two men in the centre of the impromptu ring. One was a hulking thing the size of a Behemoth, the other a shorter, wiry man who moved quickly and put in punches in quick one-two successive jabs before darting away again. It would have been a neat strategy, if it wasn't for the fact that the bigger man didn't seem in the least affected. On the next go round, the larger man grabbed the other guy by the scruff of his neck and – Samantha winced – pile drove him into the hard packed dirt floor. He then picked him up and kicked him hard into the wall. She heard something snap. The smaller man lay on the ground, unmoving.

"Way to go King!" an onlooker shouted. The cheers grew louder. From seemingly out of nowhere the sounds of cans of beer being opened and thick mugs clinking filled the room. Suddenly the smell of sweat and dirt was shot through with stout. Samantha wrinkled her nose. Why had Rude sent her out here again?

"I want a challenge," Samantha declared, leaning against the railing of the cargo ship they had been travelling on for the past couple of days. They'd just come from a scouting trip on a string of islands north of the Corel area. Recruitment had been easy – a little too easy, in her opinion. There had been little resistance, and Samantha, who had been excited at the prospect of a real mission after doing nothing but patrols and paperwork for weeks, was disappointed. This wasn't what she had joined the Turks for. If she wanted to do paperwork, she could have interned at one of Daddy's companies.

Rude remained silent. He was staring out at the seas which rolled forward before curling back, a stately dance that had been ongoing the entire journey out. Reno was downstairs with the candidates, getting them to, as the redhead had put it, "Calm the fuck down." It was too bad he wasn't here, because he would have been easier to talk to. As it was, talking to Rude was like talking to a solid wall. She blew out a breath, making her bangs lift up somewhat listlessly. She glared. The heat was wreaking havoc on her. She couldn't wait to get back to Midgar; she'd live in her bathtub for a week after this.

Irritably, she placed her hands on her hips, prepared to march over to the larger man and grab him by the shoulder – not a smart move, but then, she really was irritated. She was surprised when he turned back to stare at her. At least, she assumed he was looking at her. It was hard to tell, since he always wore those sunglasses of his, even indoors.

"We'll arrive in Costa del Sol tomorrow morning," he said.

What the hell did that have to do with wanting a more challenging mission? Samantha opened her mouth, but Rude held up his hand. She snapped her mouth shut.

"You want a challenge?"

"Yes, of course I do." She raised her eyebrows. "Are you saying Costa will be challenging?"

Rude's mouth quirked in something that may have been a smile. He shrugged. Samantha frowned. That wasn't much of an answer. He turned back to stare at the sea.

"You'll get your assignment when we dock," he said. And that was the end of their conversation.

Samantha shook herself out of remembrance. Okay, so this King guy was a challenge. He looked as if he could fell an ox, or grapple with a pen of Tonberries no problem. Challenge accepted, she shot at Rude in her mind, smirking.

Just as she was preparing to step into the ring, someone got in her way.

It was the enforcer she'd slipped past at the entrance "Hey, you can't just go in there. You know what kind of place this is?" He stepped up to her, invading her space, chest thrust out, beefy arms crossed. A few of the spectators who had been watching King's duel turned to look at them. Samantha found herself unaccountably in the spotlight. Her spine straightened.

"Of course I do," she said in her archest voice. "Why else would I be here? Now if you don't mind, I have work to do. Get out of my way."

She shoved her shotgun into his midsection and squeezed the trigger. With an "oomph" noise, the man sank onto his knees and went down. She'd had special tranquilizer capsules loaded in place of her standard bullets. She wanted as many candidates as possible alive and unharmed, after all.

The crowed moved out of her way, unsure what she'd just hit the guy with and not wanting to suffer the same fate. There were murmurs and an angry buzzing noise, like that of bees swarming about a hive under attack. Samantha ignored all this, stepping into the centre to stand across from the man who called himself King.

King himself seemed amused. He threw back his head and laughed. "Finally, a challenge," he roared. He thumped his chest. Samantha sneered inside her mind. So like a caveman. Honestly. What is he trying to prove?

"You're King," she said by way of greeting. She knew who he was. She'd only heard his name roared up to the rafters, after all. Still, it never hurt to acknowledge one with whom one was speaking to.

"That's right." King swaggered forward. Samantha couldn't tell if he was trying to impress or intimidate her. Probably a little of both. "I'm King. The strongest person in this club is called that, and I've been called that for a long time now. Who are you?"

Samantha smiled sweetly, shrugging a shoulder. "That's going to have to be a secret."

King chuckled. "What do you want?" He grinned at her. "A fight? Maybe a little glory? Maybe some companionship…?" He let the last words trail off tellingly. The crowd roared with laughter. Oh really, now. When I get back to the ship, I'm going to give Rude such a piece of my mind…

It was time to end the volley of not-so-witty repartee. She adjusted her weapon so that it rested in the crook of one arm. Still smiling pleasantly, she swept her free arm around her to encompass the entire room. "Gentlemen," she said grandly. "You're all going to come with me –" She paused theatrically. She'd always loved the grand gestures. "– as SOLDIER candidates."

-----

It had been a little over four hours since they'd docked in Costa del Sol and started their recruitment drive. The resort town was their last stop before heading back to Midgar. It had been a long six weeks, Rude reflected, and the fruit of their work would be little – not everybody made it past the candidate stage and into SOLDIER proper.

Reno had returned about an hour ago. The redhead was puttering around the ship, practicing movements with his EMR. Rude watched his long-time partner spar with an invisible enemy. He was ferocious; he was fast; he was also fluid. He could knock just about anybody on their ass with the careless grace of a drunken prima ballerina. The idea of Reno in a tutu made Rude's mouth twitch, but he kept this thought, like many others, to himself.

Checking his watch surreptitiously, Rude frowned. He glanced up at the sky. The sun, bright and unrelenting in the ever-blue Costa sky was dimmed down several shades thanks to his sunglasses. The orb's position in the sky only confirmed what his watch had, and his frown deepened.

At length, Reno stopped sparring with his invisible enemy to glance at the sky, then at his partner. "It's late," he muttered, collapsing his EMR into a compact form and stowing it away.

When Rude didn't answer, Reno picked up the conversation, filling in the gaps he was sure his partner would have were he a more vocal person. "We're finished here, huh. We've sure rounded up a lot of people."

At this Rude nodded. The numbers of people gathered in the islands and Costa meant that the holds down below were bulging with men – well, mostly men – who would be taken to Midgar. He wondered how many more the rookie would bring. "We're just waiting on Samantha," he said in reply.

Reno nodded, leaning against a pillar. He shoved his hands into his pockets and squinted up at the sky, eyes lazily tracing a gull as it made a circle in the air. "They're a rough bunch of goons." They both knew what he was referring to. Club Duel wasn't the sort of place one normally sent a rookie – or a female, for that matter. It concerned the both of them, but neither of them was going to admit it. They were Turks, after all.

"…it's our job," Rude said at last, adjusting his shades so that they covered his eyes completely. "If she can't handle that, then she's not fit to be a Turk."

Nothing more needed to be said, but Reno nodded anyway, his demeanour suddenly becoming more affable, less reflective. "Yeah." He grinned. "Just a day in the life of your average Turk."

A companionable silence fell over them for several moments. Rude took the time to glance at his watch again. He shifted. "How are the SOLDIER candidates?"

The redhead waved a lazy hand, as if to say it wasn't a problem. "They've finally settled down – for now. Who knows when they'll try something again, though?" He pushed himself up off the pillar, lanky form slouching slightly, as if the pillar had been holding him up, and now without it, he would fold in on himself. "Let's go back as soon as we can, eh?"

Rude nodded with a smile. "To the bar?"

"You know it." Reno laughed.

"We'll leave as soon as Samantha gets back," Rude said. Again they lapsed into silence. There hadn't been much to say, but suddenly the air seemed lighter, and Rude found that he could relax a little.

"What are the others doing?" he asked. Reno raised his eyebrows, but shrugged. "I've heard from the other team. They're in Bone Village – or were, the last time I talked to them. They'll be coming back into Midgar today."

Rude shook his head. So they were the last team to return. As if reading his mind, Reno sighed.

"We're losing it, Rude. Damn, we'd better have caught a good haul out here to make up for being late."

"Don't worry," Rude said. "Club Duel's patrons will more than make up for it."

Reno made a "huh" sound, and shrugging, reached into his pocket and fished out a cigarette. Offering the packet to the other man, he shrugged when Rude refused, and lit the cylinder in his hand. Rude settled back against the ship's railing, head turned ever so slightly in the direction of the resort town.

So they were back at square one. Waiting for Samantha.

-----

Club Duel was dead silent. Samantha's declaration had rung against the rafters and knocked about between the ears of every patron in the building. The silence lasted a good ten seconds before voices started up again, angry buzzing and derision oozing from every corner.

King hadn't moved since she'd spoken. He was watching her, as if trying to decide whether she'd made her statement seriously. Finally, he chuckled, a sound which roused other members, for they started laughing too.

"Come with you? As a SOLDIER candidate? You obviously know nothing about this place," he said quietly.

Behind her, Samantha could sense movement. The patrons were closing ranks around her. She straightened up, undoing the safety on her shotgun. Tossing her hair, she regarded King loftily. She felt strangely in her element all of a sudden. All one had to do was think of these guys as prey – and prey could sense authority. If she kept her chin up and acted like she owned them (and she soon would, she vowed) then any threat would be minimal.

"Of course I do. Tell your goons to back off. You're all coming with me whether you like it or not."

"And if I refuse?"

There were catcalls and threats in the air now. From behind her, there came an angry voice. Samantha turned around to face it.

"Bitch, who the fuck do you think you are? You think we're just gonna go quietly on your say so?" He spat at the ground between them. Raising his fists, he bared teeth. "Stupid broad, you're pissing me off! Let's go!"

He threw a punch. Samantha dodged, then let out a shriek as he delivered an uppercut to the chin and sent her sprawling into the hard packed dirt with a follow-up roundhouse sweep. As she made contact with the ground, the thug drove his fist down. She only just managed to roll away. The crowed roared with laughter, cheering the man on.

"Cretin," Samantha hissed lowly. More than anything, she hated being made to look a fool. "How dare you."

Behind her King guffawed, loud raucous bursts of laughter that grated on her nerves. Picking herself up off the ground, she dusted herself off before picking up her discarded weapon. Before her, the disgusting pig that had caught her off guard was looking down at her with an expression of smug satisfaction. He spat at her feet again. "Ain't so high and mighty now, are ya, Princess?" He mock bowed. More laughter filled the room.

"You got it now?" King said. Samantha looked at him from the corner of her eye, keeping most of her attention on her attacker. "There are rules in this place and they're simple. The strongest person in this club decides what the rules are, and I –" He stabbed his thumb into his chest twice, "-make up the fucking rules, your Majesty."

It always came down to brute force with these types. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised. The more she thought about it, the more this place resembled the hunting grounds she'd spent much of her time in. The laws here were like those of the jungle. The stronger ruled over the weak. The cunning lived off the backs of the stupid. It was a law of nature, and this was something of which Samantha was well aware.

"Well then," she replied, smiling once more at King, as if she hadn't just been tossed on her bottom into the dirt, "this will be easy. I'll have you down from that throne and bowing to me in no time at all."

Her attacker burst into their conversation. "You, fight with King? Man, don't you know anything about this place?"

He swaggered up so that he was between her and King. "There's only one way you're gonna fight King. You've got to win battles – against the four strongest fighters here!" He grinned viciously. Samantha got the feeling he was including himself in the count of four strongest. She certainly hoped so. She had a debt to repay this – she sneered in her mind – man, after all, and it wouldn't do to let those kinds of things go unsettled.

"Fine." She tossed her head. "You're boring me with the long explanations, so why don't all four of you be good little boys and come at me at once?"

The man suddenly laughed, a sound that was, if possible, worse than King's snorting guffaws. "Shiva's cold tits in hell, you're a feisty bitch." He raised his fists. "No can do, Princess. You fight us one on one. Prepare to kiss the ground again. You're going down."

Inside her mind, a bell rang. Round one: fight. The space made by the spectators was about five metres across. There wasn't really all that much room to move around, but it wouldn't be a problem.

"Say, before we start, can I ask for a favour?"

The request, sweetly phrased and unexpected as it was, caught her opponent off guard.

"What?"

"Well, you see, my gun right now is loaded with sleep darts." She gestured to the man she'd incapacitated when she'd come in. "I don't want this fight to end as quickly as that." She tossed her head. "Personally, I'm going to enjoy making you grovel, but having you fall face down on me before I've even got started would be discouraging. Let me change my clip."

The man sneered. "What makes you think you can hit me anyway, even with your toy darts?"

"You might just have a point," she said. "Come to think of it, we didn't lay out any ground rules or handicaps, did we?" She turned to King, an eyebrow raised. "Are there any restrictions I should know about? I'm not going to lose a fight because your man's got an advantage I don't know about."

King laughed his unpleasant laugh. "You're smarter than you look," he said. "There are no rules. Handicaps are decided between fighters."

"I see." Samantha turned her attention back to the man before her. "I didn't get your name."

The man eyed her warily, fists still raised. "Vartan."

"Vartan, then. All I'm asking is for a way to enjoy the fight. I'd be using standard bullets – nothing dirty – just clean pain." She smiled wickedly. "You can fight any way you want. I'll even let you have the first strike. How about it?"

"Not good enough." Vartan jabbed a finger at her. "How do I know those darts aren't the only things you've got?"

"You don't." Samantha was getting bored already. Simple ruffians could only hold her attention for so long, after all. "Then again, what does it matter? All I'm asking for in essence is time, not a change in tactics. And as King's said, I don't need to discuss with you what else I'd be using. All you know is that I don't want to use my darts." Then, to rile him she added, "It doesn't matter what I use because in the end the result will be the same." She tossed her hair. "Like I said, I don't want it to be over before I've even got started. That's all."

The brute snorted. "You talk too much. Go ahead and change your fucking clip. Not like it'll make a difference."

"That's precisely what I mean," Samantha said, all graceful smiles again. Her change in behaviour seemed to annoy the man, and she revelled in this. Jab him in as many ways as possible – it may be petty, but oh, it felt good!

With everything finally settled, Samantha hefted her shotgun. "Okay. Come at me, big boy." She arched an eyebrow. "Try not to end this too quickly, okay? I like men that can provide me with a challenge."

The fight began. They started by circling each other. The crowd was cheering and hooting, but Samantha filtered everything out. Right now all that existed was this five metre space and her opponent. She watched him move. He was stealthy, his movements quite compact, without excess movement. His eyes stayed on her, cataloguing her every move, just as she was doing to him.

He did, as they had agreed, make the first move. It wasn't one she had been expecting, however. The man drove one large fist down onto the ground, causing the earth to shake – literally. As Samantha watched, wide-eyed, a ripple spread out from where the punch had landed, headed in a straight line for her.

A Grand Horn? A Capwire? They both had attacks similar to this one. She reacted instantaneously. "Shield!" She called.

An instant barrier came up around her, breaking the front of the attack harmlessly around her. Those in her vicinity were not so lucky, as they got the brunt of the deflected shockwave and a face full of debris for her effort. Wasting no time, Samantha squeezed the trigger.

Her shotgun was something quite special to her. It was a relatively old model, being a couple years old. While she normally stayed up to date on weapons, this one had been modified so that the barrel could be adjusted. Depending on the setting, she could shoot one bullet in a straightforward line, or she could shoot three in multiple directions. She had it currently set to the former position – she wasn't going to waste bullets or surprise when she didn't need it.

Aside from the customization, though, what she really liked about the gun was that it had a quick response time between shots. She used this to her advantage, firing off three shots. The first one made her opponent jump back to avoid getting his foot clipped. The second manoeuvred him into the wall of spectators. The third lodged itself into her opponent's shoulder.

To his credit, he didn't scream or give any other sign that he'd been shot aside from a stifled grunt. With his good arm, he instead drew a small pistol. Samantha raised her eyebrows. It seemed as if the stakes had risen. She smiled. Good. This was precisely what she wanted.

He once again took to circling, watching her for an opening. Samantha had to admit she was impressed. He wasn't getting emotional, resorting instead to calculation to fight her. Perhaps he wasn't quite the mindless brute she thought he was.

Vartan dove at her. Samantha stepped out of the way, turning her gun on him. From his dive, Vartan took aim with his own gun and squeezed the trigger. Samantha had less than a second to raise her shield again. The bullet ricocheted off the hastily erected barrier, lodging itself in the ceiling.

That moment of confusion was all her nemesis needed. He grabbed her by the ankle and yanked – hard. For the second time, Samantha found herself falling to the ground, landing none too gently on the hard ground. Her chin smashed against the ground and she tasted blood as her teeth bit into the flesh on the inside of her cheek. There came a triumphant yell above her. Instinct told Samantha to get out of the way, and she did, rolling in the dirt to the edge of the crowd. Ignoring the prodding of their boots, she immediately scrambled back up.

Vartan was straightening up again. She guessed he'd thrown a punch at her, though it was difficult to tell without having seen it. It was just as well.

Okay, it was time to re-evaluate her tactics. Using her shotgun in this small space wasn't doing her any good; defence certainly wasn't the best way to go either. As cliché as it was, it was true: she was going to have to go on the offensive to bring her nemesis down.

What did that leave her with? Quickly she catalogued her situation. Physically she was in no shape to take Vartan on. He moved far more quickly than she had thought he could, and given the confined area of the ring, that wasn't a good thing. She could fire off shots with her gun, but it wasn't as simple as taking aim and firing – there was the limited space to keep in mind, and if she wasn't careful, she was just as liable to end up killing him as incapacitating him.

So it came down to magic. She had her Shield materia. She had a couple of standard ones given to her when she'd first started with the Turks – Fire and Ice. They weren't much, but they would have to do.

Carefully putting her gun down, she made sure she had everything she would need. Vartan seemed to find this funny.

"Giving up already? Can't take a little hit?" He laughed. "I knew it. Have you chipped a nail?" The last bit he said in an exaggerated, high pitched voice, waving a hand effeminately and prancing. The spectators laughed. Samantha's eyes narrowed.

"Hardly," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "I'm only getting started with you."

Vartan spread out his hands, eyes wide, his voice mocking. "Oh yeah? How you gonna do that? Last I counted, I knocked you on your pretty ass twice and you haven't touched –"

"I shot you," Samantha snapped. "And now I'm going to finish this. I'm sick of hearing you talk."

"Oooh, little princess is mad," Vartan said, stepping back, as if afraid. "Sorry, Your Highness. Please don't hurt me."

Samantha's eye twitched. A burst of flame ignited on his sleeve – small and contained, but certainly enough to get him to stop braying at her.

Vartan jumped. Smacking at his bicep, he hissed – he was using his bullet-injured arm to put out the flame. Samantha smirked.

"What the hell was that?!" He rounded on her, his mocking expression replaced by angry surprise.

"I told you, I'm sick of hearing your voice," Samantha said. "So just shut up and lose, already." Perhaps the remark hadn't been very genteel of her. She didn't care. Nobody – but nobody – made a fool of a Hartigan.

She focused on the Ice material in her possession. Its magic cast a cold trail across the floor, covering Vartan's feet in it. When he broke loose with an angry roar, she recovered the spot with ice, so he slipped. The sound he made as he fell was loud and dull – just like the man himself, Samantha thought nastily.

The next ice blast she called enveloped the man. The surprised look on his face sent a ripple of satisfaction through her. The crowed was roaring now, though she couldn't tell whether it was approval or disapproval. Taking up her weapon again, she aimed a shot.

The crystal block shattered. The angles the bullets penetrated combined with the quality of ice she'd summoned made the whole block shatter apart. Ice fragments stained with blood scattered across the dirt floor.

Samantha stepped back to see what her handiwork had wrought. She was a bit surprised to find that Vartan was still standing, though he was bent double, his breathing coming harshly.

"I haven't seen Vartan pushed this far in a long time," King boomed from behind her. "How are you feeling, Vartan?"

"I'm not going to lose to some smug pussy," he snarled. He was far from collected now. Samantha could see the rage burning behind his eyes. With a roar, he lunged at her, hands outstretched as if to throttle her. Samantha cast Fire, which caused him to stumble back, blinded by the flames. Taking her opportunity, she cast Ice again, encasing him in the freezing block of solidified water. Her second attack devastated him, and this time Vartan lay on the ground, inert.

There was now a hush of awed – and respectful silence in the hall. Vartan hadn't been defeated for ages, and in one duel, this woman had taken him down. Samantha didn't waste time to catch her breath, merely standing up straight and casting her glance about the room. "All right, let's step right along then. Who's next?"

She would win. She would take any and all challengers and she would win. Samantha raised her chin. She was the woman who would be King.

To be continued…