FINAL FANTASY VI: THE ABRIDGED SERIES

CHAPTER 2:

AMNESIA FOR FUN AND PROFIT!

Usually, when one wakes up with a massive headache, foggy memories and nausea, it usually means that a very good time has been had by one's self. True, the consequences of sleeping with a random, possibly repulsive (physically or psychologically) stranger, or else stealing five traffic cones (it's not a good night unless you end up in bed with a traffic cone) and the contents of the nearest sex shop, or both, do tend to mar such things somewhat. But generally, it means a good night, followed by a morning praying to the porcelain shrine of Bilious, the Oh God of Hangovers, and who has a small cult on this world that helps sustain him in his home on the Discworld.

Sadly, in the case of Terra Branford, she didn't have a nice night, unless nice nights involved the murder of dozens of people. It's certainly not a nice night for the people who die. And Terra, although a happy little pyromaniac when under the influence of caffeine (property damage only, thankfully), and an obedient little warmage when under the influence of a Slave Crown, was not the sort of person to enjoy such things.

She could remember her name, and a few scraps of her life as the prisoner in a gilded cage of the Gestahl Empire, but that was it.

With a groan, she opened her eyes, to find an old, moustachioed man leaning over her. Understandably, she reacted out of fright. Most women would try to punch him or push him away. But Terra Branford could set things on fire by will alone, and soon, the man was beating out a burning sleeve from a Fire spell. "Back off, old man, or I'll do worse! Don't make me go all Carrie White on your arse!"

"Hey, hey, take it easy!" the old man said, holding up his arms, one of them currently suffering from first-degree burns. "Look, I just rescued you from the mines!"

"To have your wicked way with me?" Terra snarled.

"No! Anyway, green hair isn't my thing," the old man said.

Terra blinked. Was she just insulted?

"…Anyway, you're up and feisty already," the old man said. He picked up a mangled, twisted coronet. "This little thing here is called a Slave Crown. It basically turns you into a dull, mindless drone incapable of doing anything but following clear orders."

"So, basically, the average corporate worker?" Terra asked.

"…What?"

"Sorry, I have Tangential Mentality Cross-Dimensional Reference Disorder. Basically, that means that I'm aware that this is a poorly written parody of a well-known video game."

The old man looked at her, and then at the Slave Crown, and then back at her. "I think this thing fried more of your brain cells than I thought."

"I am an amnesiac, not an idiot." Terra flinched. "And I have a headache like I went a few rounds with Muhammad Ali. Do you have any paracetamol?"

There was a banging on the door. Not, as one might hope, of an overly enthusiastic couple doing their carnal business right against the door, but rather, of a fist banging on the door. "Open up, Arvis! We're here to collect what's ours!"

"Shit!" Arvis hissed. "Get out of here. Use the back door, head for the mines. You should be safe there."

"Safe…in mines where wooden beams are used to shore up the walls and ceiling?" Terra asked.

"Just get out of here! I'll send someone to get you later."

As Terra left, she heard the guard yell, "I know there's been an attack by the Empire and all, but that's no excuse not to pay the fucking rent! You're two months overdue!"

Terra blinked when she heard that, before deciding that, even if she wasn't the original target of the guards, she soon would be. So she ran like hell.

Sadly, as she ran over a bridge, she was spotted by the Narshe guards. After crossing it, she debated whether to burn the bridge, before deciding that one, it was too cold (with it being so cold, her nipples broke the Moh's Scale of Hardness), and two, she tried not to burn bridges anyway.

She managed to make her way through the caves, groaning as she encountered not-so-random encounters. But eventually, she came to a halt to rest, only to realise she was surrounded by Narshe guards. "Oh, gimme a break," she groaned.

"You're surrounded!" the commander of the small squad yelled.

"Just wait a moment," Terra said. "You're pursuing me, right? A girl who has used magic, right? You've backed me into a corner, right?"

"Your point?" the commander asked.

"You're pissing someone off who can set you aflame with the power of her mind. Does that sound like a good idea?"

"Bitch, please," the commander said, and all around him, the guards pulled out red cylinders with hoses and nozzles attached. "That's what the fire extinguishers are for."

Terra blinked. After a moment, she backed away, saying, "Guess you got me there. Look, I don't even like the Gestahl Empire. I had to have a Slave Crown to get me to do their bidding."

"That's what they all say," the commander said. "Anyway, given what you and those two Magitek riders did to our town, we're going to have to have you…pay the bill. On a payment plan."

"…Like how?" Terra asked, not liking where this conversation was going.

"Oh, sweeping the streets, lighting fires, menial work," the commander said. "What did you think we were…? Oh, no, not that! We won't make you prostitute yourself to pay off your debt! I'm a debt collector, not a pimp!"

"…A debt collector? Then what are you doing leading a squad of Narshe's militia?"

"This is a backwards hick town where the standard recreations are writing your name in the snow with your piss, incest, and coal mining. Two jobs helps with the rent, frankly."

There was only one thing Terra could say to that. "Oh." Then, as Terra backed up another step, she added, "SHIIIIITTTTT!"

Of course, this was because she had accidentally stepped backwards into a hole, a hole that caused her to plummet into a room below. The landing gave her a concussion, and made her fall, conveniently, unconscious, a damsel in distress awaiting her knight in shining armour.

Or at least blue denim and a bandanna…

Terra looked around at the dark void surrounding her. She looked around, confused. "What happened? What is this? Am I dead? I don't feel dead, but how would I know?" She scowled. "If this is what it's like to be dead, then being dead sucks!"

"Nah, you're not dead."

She whirled to face the speaker. Her angry retort died on her lips. The man standing there was, well, hot, in a boyish kind of way, dressed in a semi-military uniform, with a massive sword on his back (and he somehow managed to avoid looking like he was compensating for something, an astonishing feat). He had spiky black hair and boyishly handsome features.

"Umm, who are you?" Terra asked.

"I'm Zack Fair, and I'll be the mysterious voice in your head for this adventure," he said cheerfully. "Helping guide you through fucked-up flashbacks and messy memories."

"…Aren't you in the wrong game?" Terra asked.

"Yeah, but, well, Aerith and I…we're having a trial separation," Zack said, his face falling, and he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "It's not like we had a fight or anything, despite me discovering those slashfics she favourited…many of them involving me….no, it's more like we've been drifting apart. That, and she's pissed about how Team Four Star have basically portrayed her as a scatterbrained hippie child. Anyway, we got the call from upstairs to be a spirit guide to you. We flipped a coin, and, well, I took the job. Just as well, too. She's engaged in a war of sorts with Team Four Star."

"AERITH! DEPLOY AN ÜBERCHARGE NOW!" Wedge howled.

"Okay!" Aerith said with a vicious grin.

As Wedge's Heavy and Aerith's Medic were made invincible, Jessie and Biggs (playing a Pyro and a Scout respectively) made their own moves, while Angeal played a Demoknight. It was the Lifestream Warriors versus Team Four Star in a game of Team Fortress 2…and the Lifestream Warriors were winning.

Even better, they were curbstomping the abridgers.

Revenge was so sweet.

"Whose mother is a pothead now, Antfish?!" Aerith said, a vicious grin still plastered over her features. "Even getting Kira Buckland to voice me won't save you!"

"Anyway, enough of that. Would you like a flashback, an enigmatic utterance that requires clarification to be of any use, or a precognitive nightmare?" Zack asked.

"…Umm, are there only those options?"

"Yeah, afraid so. Union rules."

"…There's a union for spirit guides?"

"Yeah. Well, it's either that, or we get run ragged by the higher-ups."

"…I think I'll take the flashback, then."

"Okay." Zack pulled out a bunch of what looked like pirated DVDs. "Hmm, let's see… Madeline and Maduin's Sex Tapes? Hmmm, spoilers, plus, might be traumatising to see your parents going at it."

"You what?"

Zack hurriedly changed the subject. "Umm, Kefka Changes Terra's Diapers…hmm, better save that for another time, I think that's a funny one. Better save it for when you need a laugh."

"I do need a laugh," Terra pointed out.

"Trust me, this is stuff you want to save for a rainy day, and at the moment, it's not even a light drizzle."

"…Is it going to be that bad?"

"Worse. Take it from someone who managed to get his own game. Being a main character in a JRPG means that life craps on you from a great height. You're either inordinately cheerful, or an emo basket case. Believe me, you do NOT want to end up like that Lightning chick." Zack pulled out another DVD. "Yeah, The Day Gestahl's Beard Got Singed is another rainy day one. Hang on, what's this? Doctor Who: Fury from the Deep? Huh. Better get the BBC on the line later. Let them know I've found one of their missing stories. Ah, here we go. Terra's First Slave Crown," Zack said.

He put the DVD into a player that had inexplicably appeared out of thin air, along with a television. On the screen, Terra saw Kefka coming over to her in her rooms in Vector. "Terra, my dear, I have a little present for you."

"A present? Knowing you, it'll probably release cyanide or something."

"No, no, no. We're having a debutante ball tonight, and as part of it, we're going to dress you up. This is the tiara I want you to wear. You'll be the prettiest girl at the ball."

Terra facepalmed at the vision of her slightly-younger self getting fooled so quickly, snatching the Slave Crown from the box and putting it on her head. Then again, she always wanted to do a bit of dancing at a ball.

Well, hindsight was 20/20, as they say. And a real bitch to boot.

Once the Slave Crown settled over her brow, Terra's eyes dulled. In a monotone, she said, "Where are the rest of my clothes for the ball?"

"Oh, we'll provide them to you soon enough," Kefka said. "But first, we need to have you act as a dance instructor. There's a few here who are due to dance the Hemp Fandango, but I think you can teach them to do the Flame-Enco!"

"Understood."

Then, there was a change of scenery. On top of the Imperial Palace of Vector, Emperor Gestahl, a long-bearded old fart in a stupid hat and robes (thus making him look like an evil Dumbledore, if Dumbledore became a fascist dictator of a fantasy land), began reading from badly-concealed notes. Flanking him was a dark-skinned man by the name of General Leo, a blonde-haired woman with a cape and a leotard (and thus fulfilling all the necessities of combat for a warrior woman in a fantasy world) called General Celes, Kefka, and Terra.

Gestahl cleared his throat, before reading from his notes. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…" He scowled as a wave of laughter came from the soldiers gathered in front of him. "Kefka, did you swap my notes with those I had for that wedding I officiated?"

"You might think that, I couldn't possibly comment," Kefka said. "In public speaking, and especially with motivational speeches, it's always a good thing to start with a joke."

"As much as that is true, Kefka, we're embarking on a campaign of conquest, not opening a dinner party," Celes snarked.

"Shut up, blondie!" Kefka snapped.

General Leo rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

Eventually, after perusing his notes and finding nothing salvageable, Gestahl threw them over his shoulder. "Fuck it, we'll do it live," he muttered. Then, in a much louder voice, he declared, "WE HAVE MAGIC! THE REST OF THE WORLD DOESN'T! SO LET'S KICK THEIR COLLECTIVE ARSES!"

Laconic and profane it might have been, but it certainly did have the desired effect. A massive cheer erupted from the soldiers gathered before Gestahl. Terra saw her past self say something, and while it was drowned out by the noise, she knew what she was saying, in that dead monotone: "This is the weirdest debutante ball I've been to in my life."

Terra watched as the video ended, before saying, "The sad thing is, they're not complete idiots when it comes to trying to conquer the world."

"Yeah, like Shinra," Zack said. "Anyway, that's all I've got time for. Sorry. Union rules. But I'll be back before long. Now, you'll have to wait for a while before you get rescued. Don't worry, you'll be rescued by a thief and about a dozen Moogles."

As Zack faded into the darkness, Terra, despite loving Moogles as much as she could without having a fetish, muttered disconsolately, "I'm screwed."

CHAPTER 2 ANNOTATIONS:

And there you have it: Terra's escape into the Narshe mines. I was hoping to fit a bit of Locke into it, but the conversation with the Narshe militia commander and the whole thing with Zack ran away with itself. I'm also a bit more satisfied with this chapter, given that there's less scatological jokes.

It'll be a while before the next chapter. In the meantime, feel free to check out my other stories. I have two crossovers with Final Fantasy VI: Esper Child (a crossover with Harry Potter) and Tuebor (a crossover with Doctor Who). If you want another Final Fantasy fic that will make you laugh, try Nitimur in Vetitum, where a Master of Death Harry Potter ends up in Ivalice, and begins shaking things up, starting with Eruyt Village.

And before you guys start flaming me, not only do I love Team Four Star's work, I love Final Fantasy VII Machinabridged, and their portrayal of Aerith (Tifa's portrayal is another matter entirely, though from episode 6 onwards, she improves drastically). And I'm also a fan of Zack/Aerith. The things that I did in the previous chapter were for comic effect. Hopefully, they made you laugh more than they made you want to flame me to a crisp.

No numbered annotations this chapter. And for those of you wanting to understand the references in this chapter, well, all I have to say is the medical acronym AMYOYO.