Author's Notes: This is essentially a retelling of the rooftop chase scene, plus a minor reference to the helicopter scene, from Mission: Impossible - Fallout (2018). My fitness goals = Tom Cruise. Of course, that's not even remotely realistic, but a girl can certainly dream! :D
Vignette 2: Make Me Run
run:
"to go quickly by moving the legs
more rapidly than at a walk
and in such a manner that for an instant in each step
all or both feet are off the ground"
Thugs to his right. Thugs to his left.
That leaves only one route of escape from the alley, and that's right back where he came from.
Seifer hotfoots it out of the claustrophobic trap.
He quickly spots a building ahead of him. A building with an open door. A building with an open door flanked by two bodyguards who look like they're built to asphyxiate…
He'll just have to muscle past them. He cranks up his speed in hopes that momentum will be on his side.
The bodyguards move as one toward the center of the doorway to block his entry.
The agitated inflection of his teammate's voice cuts through his earpiece:
"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon! YES, I can see you now!"
Seifer successfully smashes through the human barrier and into a cathedral-like rotunda, where he immediately skids to a halt.
There's a multitude of people sitting in pews. They're wearing somber faces and dark clothing in the presence of a chamber orchestra that is thrumming soft, reverent music. It would be a peaceful scene if he wasn't being pursued by Thug Group A, Thug Group B, and (possibly) the Bodyguards.
"Talk to me, Zell," he commands in an undertone. "I'm being followed," he adds, irritated.
"What!? By who?"
"I didn't get a chance to ask 'em who they were!" hisses Seifer with evident sarcasm. He glances surreptitiously behind him and doesn't see the Bodyguards—it looks like they've forfeited the hunt.
"Aw, hell! They're probably after the jewels, too!"
"Then I've just gotta get to the jewels first," he declares with a cocky grin.
He continues to move down the aisle, trying to locate an exit without drawing too much attention to himself. He thinks he can hear footsteps behind him so he picks up the pace.
"Okay, okay. I'm trackin' our thief and he's only a half mile away. Just turn right."
When he reaches the center of the room to make the turn, he stops in stupid shock at the ornate casket and floral centerpiece before him.
Sweet Hyne, he's crashing a funeral!
"Oh, shit."
The minister's mouth drops open at the uninvited provocateur and his appalling language.
"What is it? What's happening?"
"I am TERRIBLY sorry," Seifer announces loudly, holding his hands up in appeasement as he addresses the assembly of mourners. "Excuse me."
His plan to turn right is thwarted by the appearance of a Thug Group. He bolts to the left and the chase is back on.
"Oh, you turned left instead? No big deal, I can recalibrate…"
Stairs. Lots of stairs. Circular stairs. Curse these stairs!
"Uh…why are you runnin' in circles?"
Lactic acid is burning rivulets in his legs as he finally reaches the crest of the stairwell. He manages to fling himself through an iron gate and lock his pursuers on the other side.
"Okay, you need to get to the street on your left as soon as you can!"
He dashes across one last corridor.
Fresh oxygen. Brilliant sunlight. A fine view on a fine day. Maybe he'll come back here someday to enjoy it.
"Seifer, did you copy? Left, go left now!"
"I'm working on it!" he bellows, scrabbling up a slanted rooftop and sliding down the other side.
His feet hit the ground and he snaps back into a running posture, adrenaline whistling in his blood.
Up ahead he discerns a yawning gap between this building and the next. He casts Protect on himself and jumps full-bore.
"Now cross the path in front of you."
There's another, bigger gap that he springs over with catlike gracefulness. Thank Hyne that he's always scored top marks on those ridiculous SeeD obstacle course exams. Who knew that they would actually come in handy one day?
"Yo, he's gettin' away from you! You're gonna have to go faster!"
Seifer growls in frustration.
The next gap is deadly by any mercenary's standards but it's too late; he's already leapt over the chasm…
…and for a moment he thinks he isn't going to make it, that he'll end up as a hot concrete panini, but then his torso mercifully crashes into the ledge and he grasps onto it in sheer terror, grunting and mustering his upper-body strength to lever himself onto yet another rooftop.
Cure magic to the rescue: the healing washes over him like a fresh coat of dewdrops.
"YEAH! You're gainin' on him! Go straight…"
He passes some kind of an outdoor lounge and shoves his way through the neighboring double doors.
Cubicles and computers everywhere. The gloom of a corporate office, dragging its minions into an endless rhythm of emails and kanban boards.
"Straight!?" Seifer yells with uncertainty. "Keep going straight!?"
The employees regard him with dumbstruck enchantment. Perhaps today won't be so gloomy after all. Not with a handsome madman on the loose.
"Go straight, go straight. Straight-straight-straight!"
He keeps running.
"Okay, now turn right!"
Abrupt stop. It's so hard to stop. His lungs are stinging.
"Right?" he says incredulously. "NOW?"
"Yes, RIGHT."
He frowns at the window blocking his passage. "Are you sure!?"
"Yes, I'm—no, it's left! Turn LEFT."
"Dammit, Chicken-wuss!" he rumbles.
"Heh, sorry! Had the screen lock on…"
He whips his head to the left. There's a window there, too.
"Left…" he mutters to himself.
One of the office workers timidly pushes her ergonomic chair in his direction. The wheels emit a comical squeak-squeak-squeak. He receives the piece of furniture with gloved hands.
He smirks and winks at his benefactor. "Thank you."
Taking the chair by its armrests, he pulls back the makeshift weapon, spins it around a couple of revolutions, and aims it with breathtaking force at the glass impediment.
The window shatters instantaneously. The brave martyr of a chair sails away to its glorious end.
"Whatever that was did NOT sound good."
He vaults onto the ledge and stares out at the roof of the adjacent building. The drop must be a good thirty feet down. It's equally as bad as the three roof-jumps that he just survived, but this time he hesitates.
"Well, what are you waitin' for!?"
Seifer scowls. "I'M JUMPING OUT A WINDOW!"
"What do you mean you're jumpin' out a win—oh, SORRY! I had the map in 2D mode. Uh…good luck!?"
He turns around briefly to look at his audience. Everyone has risen from their seats, slack-jawed and frightfully impressed. He is filled with the courage to finish the show.
He bulwarks himself with another Protect before he jumps.
The landing is rough but it doesn't kill him. No, Seifer Almasy doesn't go down that easily.
Back in the groove, wind gusting in his ears.
"At the end of the bridge, turn left. You've almost got him!"
He hopes it's true because he's getting pretty freaking exhausted.
"C'mon, c'mon…GET HIM! That's it, the thief is literally right in front of you!"
He sees the thief mere yards ahead of him, walking leisurely but purposefully toward a helicopter with a briefcase in hand.
Wait.
A helicopter!?
Seifer uses up his last Protect and tackles the thief to the ground before he can take off into the sky.
"Did you get him!?"
"Target acquired," he states tersely amid the thief's cries of protest, "but dispatch police ASAP! His accomplice is getting away on a helicopter!"
"On it!"
"I'd stay still if I were you," he informs his prisoner coolly.
The thief wheezes out a laugh. "What, you think I actually have the jewels on me…?"
Seifer blinks slowly as a disquieting alternative reveals itself. Then again, the crafty bastard may be bluffing to throw off his scent.
But he doesn't want to take a chance, so he delivers a punch to the thief—one that's strong enough to subdue him momentarily until the police turn up.
"ZELL!" he shouts as he runs toward the rapidly ascending helicopter. He has a strong hunch that the jewels are in the air. "Get your ass over here! I'm ditching the main guy and going after the other guy!"
"I'm…on…my…way…!"
(Zell is apparently running, too.)
The whine of police sirens. Finally, help has arrived!
And then Seifer sees a sudden flash of blonde hair in his peripheral vision, now in his line of sight, now outrunning him, now pouncing onto the helicopter's rope ladder just as the thing is about to drift into the great void above the city.
He slows down, panting strenuously, hands on knees.
"Quistis," he gasps out. "You're—not—supposed…" His lungs feel like they're being crushed by the very act of breathing. "…to—be—here!"
He observes with fascination as she adroitly scales the aluminum rungs and climbs into the cabin.
The bare rope ladder continues to sway hazardously, eerily.
The distance between them increases until he can't see the play-by-play anymore.
He's dying to know what's happening. Sick with worry, he squints at the invisible sky battle from a distance even as he hears the steady thud of feet behind him.
"Yo!" Zell bumps a fist lightly on his teammate's shoulder. "The thief's been handcuffed!" He laughs nervously. "I guess you never got to other thief…?"
"Quistis," says Seifer in equal parts awe and defeat. "Quistis is inside of that helicopter right now."
"What!? I thought Squall excused her 'cause she was sick…" Zell's eyes brighten and he points upward. "Hey, check it out!"
Seifer turns his attention to the returning helicopter.
Quistis is piloting it!
She waves cheerfully from the cockpit as she steers for a rooftop landing.
He and Zell cover their faces in the powerful blast of the rotor downwash.
The officers retrieve the stolen jewels and transport a skillfully-gagged (by Quistis) and thoroughly intimidated Thief Two into the police car where Thief One is slowly regaining consciousness. The crime duo will no doubt be wailing over their ill-chosen careers.
Quistis' glasses are askew. Her cheeks are smudged with dirt, oil, or both. There's a wide tear across the knee of her pants.
She is extraordinarily pretty even in her rumpled state.
Seifer has the crazy urge to hug her. He thinks that he's simply relieved to see her alive in the aftermath of a mission that she wasn't supposed to stay on, but as he continues gazing at her he isn't so sure of his motives anymore…
"Quisty!" says Zell, grinning. "Guess all the Ragnarok practice paid off, huh?"
She smiles and shrugs modestly. "Since Dr. K has advised me not to junction for a while, I had to find ways to make myself useful. I've been taking helicopter piloting lessons on the side and recently acquired my license."
Seifer whistles, impressed. "I'd be mad at you for coming back, but you kinda saved the whole operation."
Zell nods in agreement. "Yeah, thanks for helping us!"
Quistis suddenly moans in pain and uses Seifer's arm to keep herself upright.
"Damn!" Seifer frowns. "You overexerted yourself."
"Do you need a Cure?" asks Zell anxiously.
"Healing spells don't have much of an effect." Quistis takes a couple of centering breaths. "I'll just head back and rest. I'm sorry to bail out early…"
Seifer asks one of the police officers to drop her off at Garden.
He and Zell remain on the scene to provide their official statements.
Afterward, Zell turns to him and casually says, "So, did you hear that Quisty's going on a blind date this weekend?"
Seifer's eyes narrow. "Seriously…?"
"Yeah, Rinny and Selph are setting it up for her."
This cannot be happening.
"I should mention that the date is with my second cousin."
Seifer loses it and seizes Zell by the collar. "What did you just say…!?" he articulates dangerously.
He won't stand idly by if Quistis Trepe goes out with Chicken-wuss' relative.
"I'm kidding, man!" Zell starts chortling. "There's no blind date."
"The hell are you playing at!" says Seifer with excessive hostility.
"Just curious to see your reaction. I guess you do have feelings for Quisty after all." Zell taps Seifer's curled fist. "Can you let go of me now?"
Seifer ignores his request. "As if you'd really have that level of insight into peoples' romantic inclinations."
Zell turns red. "Fine, I admit that I don't! This was actually Irvine's idea."
"Irvine…?" Seifer calms down and releases Zell. "Why, what did he say?"
Zell fixes his collar and mumbles, "That you should act sooner rather than later. There's a queue of guys trying to ask her out, you know."
"There's always a queue," deflects Seifer.
"Yeah, but…" Zell shrugs. "Irvine's got this funny feeling that it'll work out for her this time."
Seifer stares into space.
"Hey, Seifer? You alright?"
He grinds his teeth, outwardly annoyed yet inwardly thrilled. "I'm trying to accept the fact that you, Chicken-wuss—of all people!—are giving me advice about my love life."
Zell grins. "Eh, I'm just a spokesperson."
"You're dead meat if you breathe a word of this to anyone."
"Aw, c'mon! Not even Irvine?"
"Nobody except Irvine, that is."
Seifer gives Zell a noogie for good measure.
When Squall arrives at his office, he finds an envelope sitting on his desk. He doesn't recognize the sender but it's addressed directly to him.
He opens it up with a precise cut and calmly unfolds the paper inside.
He chokes on his coffee and spends the next minute coughing the liquid out of his windpipe.
"Xu?" he calls out.
Xu opens the door and pokes her head inside. "Yes, Commander?"
Squall gestures weakly at the invoice in front of him. The amount of gil owed is making him cry inside.
"Did we recently repair a window at Garden…?"