FINAL FANTASY VI: THE ABRIDGED SERIES
CHAPTER 3:
DON'T FUCK WITH MOOGLES, KUPO!
Locke Cole was many things. While he preferred the euphemism treasure hunter, he was a thief, a tomb raider, a Chocobo rustler, a legendary larcenist (literally in some regards: he had stolen rare tomes of legends of the War of the Magi), a book bandit, a jewel-jacker, and pretty much a thieving magpie of the highest order. He liked to view himself as a Robin Hood figure, though as he was no sufferer of Deadpool Syndrome, he didn't know the name of Robin Hood. He stole from the rich, and gave it to the more deserving, either the poor, or the Returners, of which he was the 'Primary Covert Acquisitions Officer'. Oh, and he was the 'Primary Figaro Liaison Officer', which was less euphemistic. What his positions meant (frigging Banon using officious big words to describe his duties!) was that he stole anything not nailed down, and gave useful equipment and a good chunk of money to the Returners, as well as liaising with King Edgar of Figaro, aka the Legendary Lech of the Desert.
Besides a thief, he was also, unknown to all but a small selection of his friends, lovelorn. While he channelled his kleptomania into a life of thievery, he channelled his regrets (as well as his anxieties about his obsession with Rachel bordering on the necrophilic) into a chivalric attitude. In short, because his lover was almost dead, and had been almost dead for some time (thanks to a strange combination of dubious herbs and magic spells, though Locke suspected that herbalist in Kohlingen spent most of the money he was sent on 'herbal inhalants'), he tried to protect any pretty girl he came across who was in trouble.
Even if they tried to stick a sword right up his jacksie. Though once they made the attempt, he would decide that they could look after themselves.
He was no knight in shining armour. Rather, he was a thief with a denim vest, denim trousers, a white shirt, and a cursed bandanna. His handsome features, framed by sandy-blonde hair, added to his dashing rogue nature.
Due to the Esper being uncovered in Narshe, he had been sent by the Returners to find some way of securing it, even taking it back. As he snuck through the streets of Narshe (he snuck through places anyway on general principle, but given that Narshe seemed to be on high alert, and not because the Elder of Narshe had gotten a hold of 'herbal inhalants'), he noticed a lot of bodies of men and beasts, the stink of shit in the air, and more than a few buildings on fire. So, only slightly different to Narshe than usual: after a good bar fight, the only thing different were that there were fewer bodies and fires.
Locke eventually reached the house of Arvis, and then, in front of the door, knelt to one knee. "This is Snake. I'm in position," he said, in a rasping growl of a voice, the voice of a man who had smoked too many cigarettes, and was probably in danger of lung cancer later in life. "Commencing Operation N313." Suddenly, he shook his head, and got to his feet.
"Locke?" Arvis asked. "Is that bandanna still giving you grief?"
Locke just said, in a voice that was a clear tenor, a far cry from the rasping growl it was earlier, "Just open the door, Arvis."
Arvis did so, letting the thief inside. "You should get rid of that thing, you know."
"Look, it's helpful for letting me sneak around. Plus, the spirit inhabiting it is kind of helpful. I just wish he didn't possess me at odd moments. So, how're we going to do this?"
"Actually, there's been a change of plan," Arvis said. "One of the Magitek riders the Empire sent was the one we heard rumours of."
"What do you mean?"
Arvis chucked over a magazine. Locke looked at it and blushed. "Chicks in Chainmail: Special Gestahl Empire Edition? Arvis, I like this magazine as much as you do, but what does that have to do with anything?"
"Miss October."
"What, the one with the green hair?" He opened up the magazine and turned to Miss October, who had apparently just turned 18, and thus, the Gestahl Empire could photograph her (and Celes) naked without repercussions. Hey, even totalitarian dictatorships had to be wary of the laws governing pornography. "Yeah, I thought it odd. She either dyes down there, or she's a natural greenette. Don't like that tiara thing she's wearing, looks tacky. I prefer that Celes chick. Even so, if she wasn't one of the Gestahl Empire's top generals, and I wasn't looking for Phoenix, I'd be on Celes like the Veldt Feral Kid on dried meat."
"Veldt Feral Kid?" Arvis asked.
"Yeah, some feral kid's been spotted running around the Veldt and stealing food from travellers."
On the Veldt, a boy clad in animal skins sneezed a couple of times. "Awoo…Gau either get cold, or people talking smack about Gau behind Gau's back. And why does Gau speak in third person? Gau not know."
"So, why did you want to show me this? I mean, she's hot and all. Literally, if this article is telling the truth. 'HOT STUFF: The Gestahl Empire's Very Own Mage! Terra may look like the girl next door with her hair dyed green, but you'd better keep your distance! She can set you on fire with her mind!' Seriously?"
"Oh, it's true," Arvis said, patting his charred sleeve. "She nearly set me ablaze. I considered asking her to autograph the magazine, but thought better of it."
"Wait, what?"
"Okay, long story short, Terra Branford came to Narshe riding Magitek Armour along with a couple of Gestahl Empire redshirts. They came here to pinch the Esper. Now, for some reason, they're missing, she's an amnesiac, and the Narshe Militia are after her. Now, I think she'd be a useful boon for the Returners."
"…Why?"
"Well, she can use magic, she probably hates the Empire for brainwashing her, and if all else fails, you can get her to pose for Chicks in Chainmail when they do a special on the Returners."
"They're doing a special on the Returners?"
"I've talked to the publishers. They're willing to do one on the Returners. Hell, they even did a special for the ladies."
He tossed Locke another magazine, who opened it. And regretted it immediately. "GAH! MY EYES! THEY'RE SCARRED FOR LIFE!"
"Ah, yes. Sorry, Kefka wanted to do the centrefold. I needed five bottles of the local moonshine to erase that mental image. Of course, the one of Emperor Gestahl is even worse."
"How much worse?"
"Eleven bottles. Leo's not bad, if you're into men. Unfortunately, when the Narshe Militia burst in here a few minutes ago, one of them tore out the page with Leo."
"Why would you have this magazine?"
"Bribes. For the women and…those men who bat for the same team, shall we say? Plus, mentally scarring people with Kefka and Gestahl naked is pretty funny."
"Not if you see it yourself!" Locke snarled. "So, I've got to retrieve Terra, take her to the Returners?"
"Yeah. I'd stop at Castle Figaro first, though. I heard Edgar wants her autograph. Head to the Narshe Mines, she should be in hiding there."
It took Locke a lot less time than he would have thought to find Terra. No encounters with the Narshe Militia, no random encounters with monsters, the only problem being that Snake tried to take possession of him to smoke a cigarette. The ghost haunting the bandanna was useful, but sometimes, he was a pain in the arse.
As he found the hole Terra had fallen through, he smiled as he saw her unconscious body below…surrounded by Moogles.
"Oh boy, it's Miss October, kupo!" one of them yelped.
"Careful, she might set your pompom on fire, kupo!" another cautioned.
"So, what do we do?"
"Wait until she wakes up, and then ask for her autograph, kupo!"
"What if someone drops in, kupo?"
Locke took that as his cue, allowing Snake to take control as he landed right next to her…and on the toes of one Moogle. "Kept you waiting, huh?" Snake drawled through Locke's mouth. He then took his foot off that of the Moogle, who hopped around in pain. "Sorry about that," Locke said when he regained control.
"That fucking hurt, kupo!" the Moogle yelled.
"Sorry. Anyway, why would Moogles read Chicks in Chainmail, anyway?"
As one, the Moogles said, in a tone fooling nobody, "For the articles."
"Right," Locke said in a tone suggesting scepticism. "And not for the naked ladies?"
"Well, Mogrich over there reads the Chaps in Chainmail edition. He thought Kefka was pretty."
There was only one sane response to that, and Locke uttered it. "What."
"THERE SHE IS!" This wasn't uttered by Locke, but rather, by a fairly large mob of Narshe Militia, having managed to make their way through the labyrinthine passages of the Narshe Mines.
Snake took control of Locke long enough to get a dagger out, smiling. "It's showtime," he rasped. When Locke took back control, he looked at the Moogles. "Can you fight?"
"We're cute, fluffy critters whom people either want to hug us and touch our pom-poms, or else monsters want to chow down on us, make Moogle Mince, kupo!" The Moogles pulled out weapons. Rather nasty, vicious-looking ones. "We can fight pretty fucking well, kupo!"
"Oh?" The second-in-command of the Narshe Militia said, stepping forward. "What are you going to do, sprinkle fairy dust on us?" he sneered.
The leader of the Militia squad, however, was backing away, gesturing for the others to do so. A few heeded him. They were the smart ones, and the lucky ones.
"No. We're gonna wreck your shit, kupo! PROTECT THE GREEN-HAIRED MISS OCTOBER! PROTECT THE BOOBIES, KUPO!"
The battle that passed was short, bloody, and would stay on the tongues of many a Narshe resident for weeks afterwards (and in the case of one Militia member who got attacked by a Moogle wielding tongue-piercing equipment, quite literally). The members of the Militia were either dead, or retreating, licking their wounds (in some cases, quite literally, as one of the Moogles was a dab hand with a weaponised piping bag(1)), while Locke pumped his fist. He thought it odd that the Moogles had said 'protect the boobies', though. Terra's breasts were somewhat modest, even in the centrefold in the magazine.
An unconscious Terra chose that moment to stir, sitting up, her eyes blinking. "Umm…"
That was as far as she got, before she was suddenly surrounded by Moogles. "Sign my magazine, kupo!"
"Please, you're my favourite pin-up!"
"I love green hair, kupo!"
Terra looked at the proffered magazines, before asking, "What fresh hell is this?"
"You posed nude for Chicks in Chainmail," Locke said. "The Moogles love you for it."
"Oh. Um…that's…sweet, I guess?" Terra said uncertainly. "Umm, if I give you autographs, can I hug you and ruffle your pom-poms?"
The Moogles' eyes widened, before one of them said, "Okay, guys, line up in an orderly fashion, kupo! And try not to get nosebleeds all over her clothes."
"Nosebleeds?" Terra asked.
Terra looked down at her clothes, at the Moogle blood staining them. One had erupted into a nosebleed geyser. "I need a dry cleaner. I don't even remember posing for Chicks in Chainmail."
"Hey, Moogle blood's good luck if the Moogle gave it willingly," Locke said. "You don't seem that worried about having posed nude for a magazine and not remembered it."
"If what I heard is true, posing nude for Chicks in Chainmail is not the worst thing that happened to me in my life," Terra remarked as they exited through a secret passage of the Narshe Mines. "Then again, maybe that's something I should be grateful to the plot-convenient amnesia for. Besides, that's without going into the fanart of me."
"The what?"
"Never mind. So, Mr Cole…why am I going with you? I mean, besides to escape the lecherous Moogles and to advance the plot of the game further?"
"Oh, well, uh…a good friend of mine wants your autograph too. He's a King."
"A King? A thief knows a King?"
"I am a treasure hunter," Locke said firmly but kindly, as if trying to correct a slow child who thought that two and two equalled in Base 10, contrary to all known laws of mathematics, 5.
"And I'm a ballerina." Then, Terra blinked. She could very well have done some ballet, for all she knew. Frigging amnesia.
"Really? You've got the figure for it…well, not emaciated. Anyway, I also wanted to see if you wanted to join the Returners."
Terra shrugged. "Why not? I mean, it's not like I can progress in the game unless I say yes to Banon, can I? Besides, there's a certain clown whose little Pierrot I want to invite to a barbeque."
Locke looked at her, before he said, "You're scary, you know that? Pretty, but scary."
"Don't worry. I know you're taken. By the way, Celes likes roses(2)."
"What?"
"Trust me."
Locke looked at her, before shrugging. And with that, the pair of them set off from the coldness of Narshe, heading for warmer climes. Unfortunately, Terra wasn't quite ready to head to a bloody desert…
CHAPTER 3 ANNOTATIONS:
This chapter is dedicated to LCT-fn-666 and Literary-Disaster, whose reviews, where I had brightened their days, was some of the best praise for this story. It was Literary-Disaster's review in particular that spurred me to write this chapter. I hope this chapter brightens your day, and hopefully, that of others.
That being said, sorry to be pedantic, Literary-Disaster, but it's irreverent humour. Then again, some of the humour is irrelevant. That's what makes it more fun. :)
For some reason, Solid Snake is haunting Locke's bandanna. I blame the fact that I was listening to a very excellent orchestral remix of Theme of Tara and Red Alert from the original Metal Gear by André Colares on YouTube. As for how Solid Snake came to haunt Locke's bandanna, I will reveal that in a later chapter that I may not get around to writing. Maybe I might even do a "Snake? SNAKE! SNAAAAAAAKE!" moment…
It'll be some time before another chapter is posted, but hopefully, this one will tide you over. If not, try some of my other humorous works…
Is Your Great-Aunt an A.I?! (Harry Potter/Portal): What happens when Harry Potter is raised in Aperture by GLaDOS and Chell? GLaDOS was once Harry's great-aunt Caroline Evans.
Nitimur in Vetitum (Harry Potter/Final Fantasy XII): Master of Death Harry, in Ivalice, paired with Mjrn, and immortal? What can possibly go wrong? Latest chapter involves a Prank War that has consumed all of Ivalice…
Newport Mage (Harry Potter/Ghost in the Shell): Another Master of Death Harry, this time paired up with Motoko Kusanagi in the manga universe of Ghost in the Shell, switching between humour and serious adventure.
Resident Evil: Basilisk (Harry Potter/Resident Evil 5): A post-Hogwarts Harry, involved in the events of Resident Evil 5 after being captured by Wesker and escaping with Jill. Funny because it's written from Harry's rather sarcastic viewpoint.
Truth and Consequences (Harry Potter/Fullmetal Alchemist): Harry and Luna end up in Amestris. There, they have adventures, including capturing Isaac McDougal, having a threesome with Lust, and finding Dementor Poop. Or is that Philosopher Stones?
Puella Magi Luna Magica (Harry Potter/Puella Magi Madoka Magica): A two-shot involving Luna making a deal with an Incubator…except that it's the Incubator who got the raw deal.
The UNIT Bulletin Board (Doctor Who): The whacky hijinks of UNIT in the classic series of Doctor Who, in notices from the Brigadier to his staff.
Hooked on a Feeling (Borderlands): The first part of my self-insert series The Ballad of Ricky and Angel, with romance, drama, humour, and mad science!
And now, for two annotations.
1. I thought this thing had a special name or something, but no, it's either 'piping bag' or 'pastry bag'. It's the thing chefs use on cakes and confectionary to pipe icing and crap on.
2. No, really. I looked it up on the Final Fantasy Wiki. Must've come from a manual or an Ultimania Guide or something.