Chapter 23:

Disgraced

(Seifer)

Seifer quickly learned that "boring" was the word that best described prison.

Especially D-District Prison, a three-pillared Galbadian monument of steel constructed in the middle of the desert. Filled with empty cells and surrounded by only sand, D-District was the closest thing to hell that Seifer could imagine.

He sat on the hard metal floor, staring between his bent knees at the opposite wall, which was the same color, material, and design as the floor itself. His shirt and gloves sat in a heap in the corner while sweat ran down his brow. In his mind, he retraced the events of the past few days, reliving the past in order to ease the monotony of the present.

After a brief stop at Deling City, Galbadia Garden—along with all the people locked in its detention center—traveled southwest to D-District prison. The guards outside the detention center made every effort to ensure that no news of the Garden's destination ever reached Seifer, but he was still able to figure out where they were going just through simple common sense. If they weren't going to kill him right away, it was obvious that they were going to send him to D-District, their most infamous prison.

(Even a moron coulda figured that out.)

He tried to rally the other students who were trapped in the detention center with him and organize a massive breakout. He counted about a dozen other people and he knew that if they all fell in behind Seifer, there was a decent chance of him actually escaping, if everything went to plan.

But the others scoffed at his efforts to escape and ignored his words. They had no reason to help him, or to try to mount an escape. They were G-Garden students being punished for minor infractions of the rules. They would only have to endure a few days of confinement and then they would go back to their normal routines at school. Seifer was the only outsider among them, the only political prisoner, the only one with an uncertain future. Furthermore, as he carried nothing with which to bribe or threaten the other students, he couldn't effectively coerce their help either. They had nothing to gain by aiding him and everything to lose.

So he waited. He figured his best chance to escape would be during the transfer between G-Garden and D-District. For the time being, he resigned himself to playing the good, cooperative prisoner, hoping to lull the guards into complacency before he seized his chance.

It was maddening. It wasn't long before he was pacing the cell like a caged lion and muttering to himself. He knew he was making the guards uneasy with his actions, but he'd stopped caring. If he didn't move, if he didn't grind his teeth and curse all Galbadians under his breath, he was sure that something in his brain would overheat from pure rage and explode, killing him instantly.

(I ain't cut out to be a prisoner.)

(Don't got the patience for it.)

When the Garden finally came to a stop, Seifer stood in the corner of the room, clenching and unclenching his fingers, readying himself for a battle. During his confinement, he'd formed only the rough outlines of a plan. He was going to try to break free of his guards and find Headmaster Martine and hold him hostage. With Martine in his grasp, Seifer hoped to be able to negotiate his freedom, or at least buy himself enough time to escape under his own power. He figured he'd improvise the details as he went along.

But to Seifer's dismay, some other nameless man in a ridiculously outdated black G-Army uniform with large brass buttons running down the front and frilly yellow epaulets on either shoulder came stomping into the detention center.

He was a balding, pompous old bastard with squinty, watery eyes and a weak jaw. Seifer didn't know him, but he got the feeling that this man deserved to be punched in the face. Repeatedly. The old man held his nose up in the air as if the mere scent of rule-breaking students was offensive to him. He then spoke, offering to reduce the sentence of any detained G-Garden student who helped in the effort to transport Seifer into D-District Prison.

Before Seifer could even think, he had three burly students on top of him. In a flash, he was face-first on the floor, with one student pinning his arms behind his back and another driving a knee painfully into Seifer's shoulder blades. He struggled and cursed, but the wide glass door opened and more students flooded in, tightly strapping his arms behind his back and binding his legs together with chains, so that he couldn't run.

They dragged him to his feet and pushed him out the door, with the old man leading the way. Seifer tried twice to break free of his captives, but restrained as he was, he could only manage tiny, pathetic hops. On his second attempt, he only got two steps away before he was tackled and recaptured. Frustrated, he decided to preserve what was left of his dignity and go quietly to his fate.

At the Garden's front gate, Seifer was passed off from the students at G-Garden to the soldiers stationed at D-District. A bored-looking officer in a dull red uniform stood in the Garden and held a clipboard. He confirmed the successful transfer of the prisoner by relaying a few messages into a hand-held radio and then jerked his thumb towards a cluster of G-Army soldiers, who took Seifer from the students and surrounded him on all sides, gripping his arms tightly. The students retreated back into the Garden, while Seifer and the soldiers went outside into the blazing furnace known as the Galbadian desert.

The three screw-shaped towers that formed the body of D-District prison were buried underground at the time of the transfer, so Seifer could only see three squat military bunkers arranged in a perfect equilateral triangle. The heat was unbearable. It poured down from the sun, almost with a physical weight. What didn't hit him on the way down bounced up off the sand and burned Seifer from below, cooking him from all directions.

The soldiers shuffled Seifer towards one of the three bunkers, which they referred to as "Tower B." Seifer was very careful to remember every detail, including the name of the tower in which he'd be locked, for when he made his escape. He continued to listen and look, absorbing and memorizing everything as the soldiers unlocked a dusty metal door with a keycard and brought him inside.

Years of experience had taught him to expect a rush of cool air when entering into a building from the hot outdoors, but climate control was apparently not a priority at the prison. The air was every bit as intense inside as outside, but instead of having the oppressive sun beating down on him, Seifer had to contend with stale, humid air stinking with decades of human sweat and filth.

He could feel a strange disconnecting sensation as he crossed into the influence of the anti-magic field that was the pride and joy of D-District Prison. As long as that field was up, Seifer knew, he would be unable to touch his magic or his summons. He ground his teeth.

It took his eyes a moment to adjust after the glare of the desert, and he was almost blind as the soldiers pushed him into a small elevator alongside five guards, including the officer with the clipboard. The soldiers made absolutely sure to keep at least two or three guns—not just pointed at Seifer—but physically digging into his skin at all times. He cursed and swore at them, but they ignored him and dug their weapons deeper into him whenever he protested.

The elevator stopped at an unknown floor and Seifer was pushed out. He managed to catch a glimpse of the massive, circular shaft that formed the center of the tower. For a moment he could see down the shaft to the bottom and he estimated himself to be roughly halfway down the tower. Which, as far as his escape plans were concerned, was the worst place for him. He was equidistant from both the top and bottom, so no matter if the prison was underground or aboveground, he would still have a long jaunt ahead of him if he wanted to get out.

The soldiers shoved him in a nearby cell, unbound his hands and feet, and then disappeared. The door slammed shut with a clang, locking him alone in the empty cell.

It was impossible to measure time in his windowless cell, but Seifer guessed that at least two or three days had passed since he had last seen anyone. In all that time, there were no guards. No mealtimes. Nobody coming to interrogate him. Absolutely nothing.

(What the hell are they tryin'a do?)

He assumed—when he first came to D-District—was that he was going to be tortured. Galbadia was not a nation that wasted a lot of its resources keeping people alive if it could find no practical use for them. If Seifer was in prison and not lying dead in an unmarked grave, it meant that one of the higher-ups in Deling City still felt that there was some value in Seifer's life. And the only thing that Seifer had that they could possibly want was information. Therefore, he reasoned that it was only a matter of time before a guard came to his cell and dragged him up to the interrogation room, to be strapped to a wall and electrocuted until he broke down and told them everything he knew.

So the whole of his first day in prison was spent bracing himself for torture, preparing his mind and body for the pain that was surely coming. It was a matter of pride for him, to remain unbroken regardless of what they did to him. Galbadia had the power to imprison him, lock him in a cell, take away his weapons, and reduce him to being almost an animal. But they could not change him. They could not alter the fundamental nature of his identity. He refused to help the Galbadians, even if it meant that he would be tortured or killed.

To prepare himself for what he saw as his inevitable date with the interrogation room, Seifer tried to imagine it in as much detail as he could. His memories of the room were still vivid from the time when he had captured Squall and Squall's friends and Seifer himself had tortured the arrogant little soldier boy SeeD. He remembered the smell of the electricity in the air, the crackling sound it made as it coursed through Squall's body. The way the SeeD's muscles tensed and seized. The desperate agony in Squall's eyes as even he—silent, stoic Squall—was forced to scream.

Seifer had a lifetime's experience with pain of all kinds and sorts. But he'd never been tortured before. He had no idea what it felt like to be rendered helpless before another person. To be in the mercy of someone who was determined to cause the greatest pain possible without actually killing him. And to apply this pain continuously until Seifer's mind snapped, until he would confess to anything in the world just to end the pain. The concept was new to him and therefore intriguing. He was curious to see what it felt like. To see how exactly he'd react.

(I know I can at least be a bigger man than Squall.)

He went over the scenario in his mind again and again, each time imagining it to be worse than the time before. He wanted to make it so that by the time they actually brought him up to the interrogation room and tortured him, he would be disappointed. He wanted the actual experience to be easier than the horrors his mind could conjure. If he could manage that, he would be invincible.

But no one ever came. Seifer had run through the torture scenario so many times in his head that he was almost excited for it. It was a new experience. A new challenge to accept. What would Galbadia do, if he never gave in? If, after endless, unendurable agony, Seifer still remained smug and defiant? He smiled, thinking of the panicked expressions on the guards' faces when they realized that Seifer Almasy was not a man who could be broken. Not by the stupid Galbadians. Not by anyone.

He stared at the opposite wall, his back and neck aching. At that point, he would have gone to the torture room gladly, if only for the chance to have something to do.

"Friggin' HELL!" he screamed in the empty cell. His voice bounced around in echoes, ringing off the metal walls and the solid steel door that kept him trapped inside. "DAMN IT ALL!"

He thumped the back of his head against the wall. Then did it again. He repeated this, again and again and again, slightly harder each time. If Galbadia wasn't going to torture him, then damn it, he would torture himself.

(I'm probably better at it than they are anyway.)

He leaned far forward and slammed the back of his head against the wall, hard enough to make his vision flash white for an instant. He savored the rush of pain that exploded in his skull, the feeling as the radiating heat of his injury spread from his head and down his neck. The pain gave him company for a few minutes, a companion to ease the boredom in the darkened cell.

But like everything else, the pain soon went away, leaving him with a warm, throbbing bump on the back of his head and a sense of frustration that was even larger than before. He considered hitting his head again, but decided against it. He became convinced that this was all some sort of cunning psychological torture, designed to break Seifer's will not with pain, but with utter, screaming boredom.

(Probably saves on electricity this way…)

If that was the case, he wasn't going to play into Galbadia's plans by allowing them to see that their scheme was working. He hugged his knees and drew them in tight against his chest. He'd taken off his coat and gloves shortly after arriving in the cell—the heat was far too intense to wear them. He pressed his slick forehead against his sticky arms and resolved to try to sleep. Sleep was the only way he could be absolutely sure that he wasn't serving the Galbadians in some way. Whatever their ultimate goal was, there was no way they could profit from his snoring body. Sleep, therefore, was his only available form of rebellion.

He dozed in and out of consciousness for some time. For how long, he couldn't possible say. Waking and sleeping were much the same in D-District Prison. At some point he opened his eyes to find that he'd fallen over on his side, with his muscular bicep propped under his head as a pillow. His painfully dry lips peeled and cracked when he tried to open his mouth, and he realized that he was thirsty.

Wishing for water, he slipped back into restless sleep.

He didn't hear when the door opened, nor did he hear the pair of footsteps enter his cell. But he felt the heavy toe of the guard's shoe when it drove into his stomach. He choked and gasped, clutching at his abdomen. His eyes snapped open into a glare of pure hatred, his eyes focusing on the face of a prison guard.

The man's jaw was so square it was almost pointed and his scowling face was shaded by a bushy brown moustache. He wore the black slacks and tight blue shirt of a prison guard. Seifer thought that was a good thing; the D-District guards were notorious for being idiots. D-District had a reputation for being one of the worst places to work in all of Galbadia, so only very desperate people ever applied for jobs as guards in the prison, resulting in the staff being indifferent or incompetent in many cases. Even the dumb soldiers in the G-Army were better trained and equipped than the average prison guard.

"Wake up," the guard said. "We got something for you to do."

(So… it's finally time…)

He struggled upright into a sitting position, trying to clear the sleep out of his head. But even the pain in his stomach and the thought of impending torture couldn't get his brain to focus. Everything was hazy and far away, as if only half of him had woken up, leaving the other half sound asleep. His eyes were dry and sticky and blinking was difficult. His clothes were damp with sweat.

"Now," the guard said, resting a hand on his hip. "Are you gonna be nice, or you gonna be trouble?"

Seifer looked up at the guard and glared at him some more.

The guard sighed. "You're gonna be trouble…" he said, half to himself.

He looked outside the cell and waved in another couple of guards, two burly men who looked like they measured their bench press weights in "Cars-Per-Repetition." One stood beside either of Seifer's shoulders and hauled him to his feet. Determined to be as stubborn as possible, Seifer went limp in protest, forcing the guards to carry him along. The guards didn't seem to notice or care. They easily pulled him out of the cell, his feet dragging along the ground as they headed out into the central shaft.

The artificial light in the shaft was painfully bright, making Seifer squint. But, mercifully, the long, empty shaft produced the slightest breeze that brushed along his skin like a tender caress. He closed his eyes and savored the faint coolness. The guards pulled him up one flight of stairs, his feet bouncing painfully on each step, then another flight of steps, then another. Then they went out into the circular floor that surrounded the central shaft, heading for a specific cell. Once there, they stopped.

"Here's how it's gonna work," the mustachioed guard said in a bored tone. "If you get the sorceress to talk, you get food and water. How's that sound?"

(The sorceress?)

Seifer first thought of the undead girl, stretched out on the bench in the Galbadian detention center. He hadn't seen them remove her from G-Garden, but they could have done that any time after they brought Seifer down. Since she was basically dead, it was probably a simple matter to transfer her over. She wouldn't resist or anything, the way Seifer could.

"If you don't cooperate," the guard continued, "Or don't succeed, we go to Plan B. Care to guess what that is?"

Seifer smirked weakly. He mumbled, "Give up and lemme go home?"

The guard shook his head, neither angry nor amused. "Afraid that's not an option. Just make sure you stick with Plan A, alright? Now, straighten yourself up and look presentable. You're gonna be calling on a lady. Didn't your mother teach you any manners?"

"No…" Seifer said. His smile broadened. "But your mother did."

Still expressionless, the guard struck Seifer across the face with his baton.

"That ain't funny," the guard growled. "Barely even makes sense."

Seifer chuckled. "Your mother taught me manners. Don't you wanna hear what tricks Itaught her in return?"

Another stroke of the club turned Seifer's face to the other side. He continued smiling. He was having too much fun to feel the pain.

"Open the door," the guard said. A fourth guard that Seifer had not noticed moved to the door and slid a keycard through a card reader. The red light above the door changed to green, and the door slid open. The two burly guards heaved Seifer inside, where he collapsed in a heap, still grinning to himself.

"Remember Plan A," the guard said to him before the door slammed closed.

(Remember your mother...)

Still on the floor, Seifer opened his mouth and flexed his jaw, checking to see if anything was broken. He was sore and probably bruised like hell, but none of the damage seemed permanent, and he still had all his teeth in place. He crawled to his knees and looked into the cell.

At first he thought there had been some mistake and he'd been thrown in the wrong cell. He didn't see anyone inside but himself. But when his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he saw a young woman laying curled up in a ball, her small body tucked as deep into the corner as she could possible go. He couldn't see her face, but her blonde hair poked out through her folded arms, and he could see the edge of a stained red bandanna tied on her head.

(She's not the one from the Garden.)

Seifer sighed. He had hoped that if there were more sorceresses running loose in the world, that they'd at least be able to put up a decent fight Galbadia. This one, it seemed, had been captured without much trouble. She didn't have any major wounds, and aside from being rather dirty and sweaty, wasn't in terrible condition. He hoped that she had at least killed a platoon or two before getting caught. Otherwise she was just a waste of talent.

(If she's even still alive.)

"Hey," he said to the girl. "Hey, you."

She didn't answer. She didn't move.

Seifer went a still as possible, straining to hear if she was breathing. He heard only silence. He sighed again.

(Damn it.)

Apparently, they had sent him to interrogate a corpse after all. He shook his head. Galbadians were quite possibly the biggest idiots on the planet. Seifer figured the only reason that the G-Army had so much influence in the world was because there were so damn many soldiers. They won wars based on sheer numbers, rather than cunning or tactics.

(Looks like Plan A's already a bust.)

He got to his feet and crossed the room. He bent over and put a hand on the girl's shoulder, trying to push her arms back so he could see her face. He wondered if he'd recognize her.

She tensed up at his touch, curling into a tighter ball.

"Don't touch me," she said in a surprisingly deep voice.

He pulled his hand back and stood up. "So you're alive."

She didn't answer.

There was a part of him that told him to ignore the guard's commands and not bother speaking with the sorceress. He had no idea why they wanted her to talk, or why they wanted him to do it, but they must have had a reason. And if Galbadia had a reason to want something, then he was resolved to stand in the way of their progress.

But at the same time, he knew that if he could win the sorceress to his side and have her as an ally, his chances of escaping the prison alive increased dramatically.

(I gotta get her to come around.)

"I'm Seifer," he said. "Who are you?"

Still no response.

"Look…" he said. "I ain't thrilled to be here either. But if you wanna get out, you gotta talk to me. I know all about this hellhole and I can figure out a way outta here. But I need you to work with me."

She was silent. Seifer craned his neck to get a better angle on her face. Her eyes were closed, relaxed, as if she was sleeping. Seifer sneered in contempt.

(Don't ignore me!)

With his boot, he tapped her in the back, right where her kidneys were located. It wasn't a hard hit, but it touched a sensitive area, forcing her to yelp and twitch. In an instant, she rolled around and kicked Seifer in the side of the knee, making his leg buckle under him.

He grunted in pain and stumbled backwards, falling hard on the floor. He rubbed his knee, glaring at the sorceress. She sat up rubbing her kidney where he'd kicked her, glaring right back at him.

"Least ya still got some fight in ya…" Seifer said. He smiled. "I like that."

Instead of responding, she curled up in a ball again, with her back to Seifer. He rolled his eyes and growled.

"I'll kick you again," Seifer said. "Harder this time. Hard enough to make ya piss blood for a week."

He got no response. He clenched his teeth and considered standing up and knocking on the door to let the guards back in. Let the Galbadians struggle with her. Or torture her if they wanted. Whatever. He was done trying to talk to a wall.

But he decided against it. His experiences with Ultimecia had taught him the immense value of a sorceress, even one as stubborn as the one in the cell with him. Even if she wasn't fully on his side and working with him, just the sheer destruction she could cause would be enough for Seifer to escape in the wake of her fury.

"If you don't talk to me, you're gonna talk to them," Seifer said. "And they have a torture room."

He stared at her back. She showed no signs of listening to him at all.

"Ever been tortured before?" he asked with a sneer. "Ya scared? You should be. Saw one kid come through there, he was pissin' himself and cryin' after five minutes. He was out cold after ten. You? I don't think you'd last three minutes."

He watched her, but she didn't take the bait. She didn't defend herself, get angry, or hurl insults at him. She didn't do anything. If it weren't for the fact that she'd previously said, "Don't touch me," and then kicked him, Seifer would still be wondering if she was even alive or not.

"There's another sorceress here," Seifer said. He didn't know for sure if they'd brought the dead girl from G-Garden into the prison, but he figured it was safe to assume that they did. There wasn't much sense in leaving her in G-Garden after all. "They killed her, you know. Tortured to death. Lousy way to go, if ya ask me."

She didn't answer, and he sighed. He clicked his tongue a few times, trying to think of another tack, another way to approach the situation. Being friendly didn't work. Being threatening didn't work. He had one last idea to try, and then he was going to give up.

"You mighta heard of me," Seifer said. "I was the knight for Sorceress Ultime—er… Sorceress Edea. I was there when she killed Vinzer Deling. I know you must be pretty new to bein' a sorceress and all. I can't tell you what it's like, obviously. Ain't never been a girl, much less a sorceress. But I know more about it than most people. Edea told me a lot about the power. How to use it, what to look out for. I can help."

It was a risk, bringing up his past. If she was a sympathizer to Deling's regime, then mentioning that he was involved in the President's death would only shut her down even more. But alternatively, there was the possibility that she was one of the many, many people who hated the man and was glad to see his limp corpse hurled aside like a doll. Seifer figured he had even odds either way and really didn't have much left to lose at that point.

Several seconds of silence passed, and Seifer was just about to give up and call the guards when she spoke.

"Tell me," she said softly. She didn't move from her position.

(Well… it's a start.)

"What do you already know?" Seifer asked. "You know anything?"

She didn't answer.

"Fine," he said with a frustrated snarl. "You know that sorceresses don't die, right? Even if they're killed, they keep livin' on in like a half-life or somethin' until they pass on their powers to another person. I don't know what it feels like, but I figure bein' dead ain't any fun."

The sorceress didn't respond, so Seifer continued.

"Every sorceress has a specialty," Seifer said. "Edea was really good at changing stuff. Like, changing the state of matter, you know? She could walk through walls, turn statues into monsters. I take it you can't walk through walls, otherwise you'd be out of here already. Or maybe it's the anti-magic field keepin' you in here. Hell if I know."

He still hadn't managed to get a response from her, but he sensed that she was listening, so he pressed on.

"There was… this other sorceress I knew," he said. "She was good at time magic. She could even go back in time and change the future. She was probably the most powerful sorceress to ever live. You figure out what your specialty is yet?"

He didn't expect a response. He was about to go on rattling off his sorceress facts when her voice floated over to him.

"I can… make people do things," she said. "I can put ideas in their minds. Visions and stuff. It's how I…"

She stopped.

"How you what?" Seifer asked, but she didn't answer. He decided not to push the issue. He was just glad that she was finally talking to him. "Anyway, it sounds pretty useful. You could be popular if you figure out how to use that power right."

"I guess…" she said. "But I can't do it here."

"Anti-magic field," Seifer said. "D-District has a pretty strong one here. Gives this place its reputation."

"I know you," the sorceress said, abruptly. "I knew you right away."

Seifer raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"In Timber," she said. "You broke into the TV Station when Deling was making his speech announcing the new ambassador. You tried to kill him."

(She remembers that?)

Seifer scratched his neck. That wasn't his finest moment, and he was a little embarrassed that she chose to bring it up. "You saw that?"

"Everyone saw it," she said. She still kept her back to him, but now she turned her head to look over her shoulder at him. "It was broadcast around the world. They said you were executed."

Seifer scoffed. "And you believed them?"

She didn't respond.

"So you know me…" Seifer said. "But I still don't know you. What's your name?"

She hesitated, then said, "Don't you know?"

"I ain't been keepin' track of the news lately," Seifer said. He gestured at the prison walls around him. "You famous or somethin'?"

There was another long pause, then the sorceress said, "Ciel. I'm Ciel."

"Good to meet you," Seifer said formally. "Sorry I kicked you before."

"It's alright. It didn't really hurt," Ciel said.

Seifer frowned.

(It ain't like that was my hardest kick or anything.)

"So how'd you end up here?" Seifer asked. "Takes a lot to bring down a sorceress. Didn't think it was even possible to take a sorceress alive. 'Til now, anyway."

She didn't answer. Instead she asked, "What do they want to know?"

"Who, the Galbadians?" Seifer asked. She nodded, and he shrugged. "I dunno. I have no friggin idea what they're thinkin'. If they wanted you to talk, I thought they'd just torture you. Don't' see what the point of sendin' me in here is."

"I'm not afraid of pain," Ciel said.

"Good," Seifer said. "Neither am I. Now listen, I can figure out a way outta here, but I'm gonna need your help. I dunno what your story is, but if we're gonna escape, we need to work together. If we can get out of range of the anti-magic field, or get them to take it down, then we can—"

The door clanged open and the mustachioed guard stomped into the cell.

"That's enough," he said calmly. Seifer narrowed his eyes at the guard.

(The hell's that supposed to mean?)

But before his brain could process another thought, Ciel burst in action, uncoiled like a snake, and lunged towards the guard, driving a straight punch directly into his groin. The mustachioed guard, for the first time, showed an emotion, his face twisting into a whimpering mask of pain. He clutched himself, moaned, and dropped hard to the floor.

(Nice!)

As quickly as she'd gotten up, Ciel leapt over the fallen guard and fled from the cell. She was already gone from sight by the time Seifer's mind had caught up. Grinning to himself, Seifer got to his feet and followed after the sorceress, stepping over the guard and rushing out of the cell.

But out in the main prison shaft, the fight was already over. The two burly guards that had dragged Seifer up to Ciel's cell had caught the sorceress, each one holding one of her arms. She twisted and kicked, but she was a tiny teenager in the grip of a pair of bodybuilders, and didn't stand a chance without her magic. Despite her efforts, her legs couldn't reach either of the guards.

Seifer didn't hesitate. He leapt towards the nearest guard, balling his hand up, and with a furious shout, drove his fist into the man's jaw. But the days of dehydration, starvation, and inactivity had already taken a toll on Seifer. His strongest punch barely even turned the man's head. Seifer ducked and spun away to avoid a counterattack. The guard handed Ciel off to the other guard, who proceeded to wrap her arms in a crushing bear hug to hold her still while the other guard came after Seifer.

Seifer snarled and took a few steps back, trying to stay out of range of the burly guard's fists. No one had signaled an alarm yet, so there was still a chance to escape, if Seifer could take this guy down and turn it into a two-on-one situation with the other guard.

But in all the excitement, Seifer had forgotten about the fourth guard, the one who had used a keycard to enter Ciel's cell. Just as Seifer was about to make his move, he heard the sound of rushing air, and then his vision exploded into white stars and yellow streaks. He was on the metal floor with the burly guard pressing down on top of him before he even realized that he'd been struck in the back of a head with a baton.

His head wheeled, making his stomach clench with nausea as the burly guard hauled him to his feet and clasped his arms behind his back. The guard's hands were like iron manacles, digging painfully into Seifer's wrists.

(Damn it all.)

The mustachioed guard limped weakly out of Ciel's cell and stood, propped against the wall, surveying the situation. Ciel was hopelessly pinned by one massive guard and Seifer was dizzy and in the grasp of the other. The mustachioed guard shuffled over to Ciel, curled his lip in disgust, then drove his fist into her gut. The air rushed from her lungs and she gagged as she tried to double over in pain, but the guard behind her was holding too tightly for her move.

"Don't… do that… again," the mustachioed guard said, holding his groin gingerly with one hand.

"Bastards," Seifer muttered. He struggled in vain for a second, his vision still dancing with colors and shapes.

Above them, Seifer could hear the sounds of whirring machinery. After a few seconds, his dazed mind was able to process the noise and remember what it meant.

(The cell transport.)

To allow prisoners to be easily moved from one spot to another, there was a massive crane in the center of the shaft that raised and lowered an elevator, with a detachable cell for prisoner transport. The big steel box lowered itself from the upper levels and docked along the side of the circular walkway, only a couple steps from where Seifer was standing. The door to the transport opened, and Seifer's guard dragged him inside, never once releasing his grip on him. Ciel's guard did the same. The mustachioed guard leaned against the wall of Ciel's cell and waved the fourth guard onward, signaling that he wasn't going to follow. He continued to clutch his groin in one hand, breathing deeply through his mouth and wincing.

(Serves you right.)

The fourth guard stepped inside and the door to the transport closed. The cell jerked as it undocked from the walkway, then jerked again as it rose to the upper levels.

The crane lifted the transport pod as high as it would go, then stopped to dock at the top floor. The door opened, and the fourth guard—an inconspicuous man in dark sunglasses—guided the others out to a control room, then up a set of stairs and over into the interrogation room.

(So here we are…)

The room was nothing special. It was undecorated, as all the other rooms in the prison. It was longer than it was wide, with high walls and dim lighting. On the right hand side were a pair of cross-shaped indentations elevated above the ground. Chains dangled limply from the indentations. At the far side of the room was a small computer terminal, where guards could make adjustments to the electric current. Behind the terminal was an oversized metal lever in the wall, which turned the electricity on and off.

They were not alone in the room. Standing off to the side was another pair of prison guards as well as the undead sorceress that Seifer recognized from G-Garden. She sat on the floor, her eyes dull and lifeless. The two guards didn't even bother to restrain her or keep a hand on her.

(So they brought her in after all.)

Ciel's guard dragged her towards the undead sorceress, then held her still about five paces away. The two sorceresses locked their gazes for a moment, and the undead girl raised her hands entreatingly, as if begging for assistance. All the guards in the room snapped to attention. The two guards flanking the undead girl grabbed her shoulders and pulled her backwards, dragging her along the floor for several paces. Ciel's guard clutched her in a bear hug and spun her around, using his body as a physical shield to keep the two separated.

In that moment, it all became clear to Seifer.

(They're afraid.)

Like almost everyone else in the world, they knew of sorceresses only through myths and legends. They had no concrete facts, they did not know the abilities and limitations of a sorceress. For all they knew, a sorceress had access to unlimited power and could do anything at all. They could not even be sure if the anti-magic field would be enough to stop Ciel and the undead sorceress from killing them in an instant.

That's what Seifer was for. To test the waters. Would Ciel immediately kill him, or use some other tricks on him? Possess his mind and turn him into a puppet? They didn't know, so they had to run a test using him as the subject. When they found out that the sorceress could be spoken to—could be reasoned with—they intervened, bringing the sorceress up to the next phase of their experiment.

(So what now?)

The guard in sunglasses answered that question. He tightened his grip on Seifer, then shoved him roughly against the wall. Another guard approached and helped spread Seifer's arms apart and chain them into position in the cross-shaped indentation on the wall. A pulley hidden behind the wall yanked him up off the ground, letting his feet dangle freely. His shoulders hollered in pain. He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, refusing to submit. After all, the torture hadn't even begun yet.

(They will never break me.)

The guards grabbed Seifer's kicking feet and held them against the wall, chaining them together below him. Then they stepped away, turning their attention to the pair of sorceresses.

"Here's how this's gonna work," the guard in sunglasses said to Ciel. "It's a simple test. You're gonna give your sorceress powers over to this sorceress over here. If you can do that, we'll let you go. Simple as that."

Seifer clenched his jaw. He had no idea if Ciel could pass her powers on to a sorceress who was already dead. But regardless, he couldn't allow them to make the attempt. Ciel and her sorceress powers were his best shot of escaping, and if she was turned back into just a regular girl, then his situation became rather bleak.

Thinking quickly, he said, "It won't work."

The guards all looked at him.

Summoning his trademark arrogant grin, Seifer opened his eyes and met the stare of the guard in sunglasses. "It won't work," Seifer said again. "Sorceresses can't trade powers with an anti-magic field activated."

(C'mon. Let's see just how dumb you really are.)

In truth, Seifer had almost no idea about the rules concerning the succession of sorceresses. Ultimecia had mentioned a few things to him during his time with her, but she had never bothered telling him the mechanics of how one sorceress exchanged her powers to another. But it seemed like a plausible bluff, and if the D-District guards were as dumb as rumor said they were, then he and Ciel were about to be free of this place pretty soon.

The guards exchanged confused glances. But the guard in sunglasses was apparently the brightest of the group and recognized the trap before the others did.

"Then we'll just have to zap you instead," he said. "Hit it."

One of the guards who was standing watch over the undead sorceress moved over to the switch on the wall and lifted it up casually, as if doing nothing more interesting than turning on a light.

(Here we go.)

Not only had Seifer never been tortured before, he'd never actually experienced a direct hit from electricity. SeeDs frequently used thunder magic in training, but never against each other, for fear of causing severe damage to one of the cadets. So despite Seifer's mental preparations, he was caught completely off guard by the agonizing reality of electrical torture.

It felt as though someone had slit both his wrists and then shoved burning, fist-sized coals under his skin, then pushed them past his elbows, down his shoulders, through his chest, down his legs, and then out of holes in his feet. His muscles convulsed uncontrollably, his skin burned, and his hairs stood on end. He was vaguely aware of the fact that he was screaming through clenched teeth, his eyes bulging in his skull, but the immediate misery of the electricity drowned out all thoughts and considerations.

For a second, his mind dissociated from the pain, and he felt like he was floating above his body and looking down at his writhing, twitching body from a place of safety and comfort. Then the guard hit the switch again and the current stopped. Seifer was unable to hold his body up, and he fell limp in his restraints, his head falling down on his chest.

(That…)

(… That…)

(Was some…)

(Serious shit…)

But he'd survived it. The first blast of electricity was over, the surprise of the unknown was behind him. Now he knew what to expect for the next time and could prepare himself. He gritted his teeth and gathered all his willpower, bracing himself for the next barrage of electricity.

Before the guards could unleash it, Ciel's voice shouted, "Stop!"

The guards froze and looked at her.

"I'll do it," she said. "Or… I'll try anyway."

"… No…" Seifer wheezed. He tried to form more words, but he didn't even have the energy to hold his head up at the moment, let alone form a full argument. He was surprised at how exhausted he felt, how little his body responded to his commands.

The guard holding Ciel gripped her by the shoulders, giving her a little more slack—but still not enough room to try to make an escape—and then guided her towards the undead sorceress. Ciel closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then reached out her hand for the other girl.

Sitting on the floor, the undead sorceress looked up weakly, then extended a trembling hand towards Ciel's. Seifer gritted his teeth as he watched. Whatever happened next probably would not help Seifer in any way. There was a small flash of light, and then the undead sorceress collapsed to the ground. With her energy now gone, she was nothing but a corpse, finally free of her post-mortem nightmare.

(What?)

Ciel raised a hand and concentrated on a nearby guard, clearly focusing her energy for a spell, but nothing happened. The guard in sunglasses stepped up to Ciel and struck her across the head. She twitched and went limp for a moment. She recovered quickly and glared daggers at the guard.

"Dumbass," the guard said. "You were supposed to give your power to her, not take her power!"

"…Why'd you do that…" Seifer managed to moan.

Ciel glanced at him, somewhat embarrassed that her plan had failed.

"I thought…" she said. "I thought that if I took another sorceress' powers, I'd be strong enough to cancel the anti-magic field."

Seifer shook his head and sighed.

(Worth a shot, I guess.)

"All right, new plan," the guard in sunglasses said. "Obviously this guy up here's a liar. He said you can't transfer sorceress powers in an anti-magic field. So let's pump him full of juice until he starts bein' honest."

Seifer took several quick breaths through his clenched teeth as the guard stepped towards the switch again.

(Bring it on!)

The guard hit the switch, and Seifer's world transformed into white agony.