10

CHAPTER 10 – SUCCESSION OF WITCHES

"So, it was a decoy all along," Zone grumbled from the head of the meeting room table.

"'Decoy' is one way of putting it," Zell quipped. "I'm gonna be seeing that thing in my nightmares for weeks!"

I'll trade you for the ones I've been having lately.

Squall could sympathize with Zone's disappointment; their plan, though flawed from the start, had gone off perfectly. For all their work to have come to naught must have been a huge blow to his self-confidence. Watts had likewise been crushed to learn the information he'd gathered had been planted; he'd silently left the hideout a half-hour earlier to scour the streets for rumors.

"What even was that thing?" Rinoa asked. "It's like it was made to take the president's form. How does Galbadia have something like that?"

"Maybe… it was some kind of super gross-looking GF?" Selphie guessed.

"Impossible," Squall shot the idea down. "GFs are produced exclusively for SeeD; the Garden's contract with Odine Industries ensures that."

"Yeah, but…"

She paused, seeming uncertain of what to say.

"But, what if Galbadia found a way to make their own somehow?"

"Not a chance," Zell cockily answered. He brought up his own silver sphere for all to see. "I've been trying for years to figure out what makes these things tick. Tried disassembling mine a few years back; I wanted to get a better look at the interior material. Didn't go so well. Turns out the energy goes haywire when you strip away too much of the protective casing."

"It knocked out all the electrical circuits in our wing of the dorms," Squall reminded him. "We didn't have hot water for a whole week."

"You're still mad about that?"

Zell's hands shot up in mock defense. Selphie chuckled; the girl's spirits seemed to be returning.

"Anyway, if it were a GF, it'd need someone there to control it, right? The creature can't stray too far from its power source."

"I'm not really following this talk about 'GFs', or whatever," Rinoa cut in. "But, are you saying there might be a rogue agent involved in this?"

"He's saying if there were, they'd have been on the carriage as well," Squall explained. "And if that were the case, they should've shown themselves once they'd sprung the trap, or at least by the time we made our escape."

"None of this makes sense!" Selphie moaned, putting her hand to her head. "It couldn't have been a GF, plain and simple. Can we please just forget I brought this up?"

If there's one person here I'd suspect…

"Whatever the case, it was all a setup, and we were stupid enough to take the bait," Zone grumbled. He balled his fist in frustration, and slammed it down on the table.

"So, what do we do now?" Rinoa asked, rising from her seat. "I'm not about to just let this go. We've given too much for today to end in failure. I say we-"

"Sir!"

Squall turned his head to the door. Watts stood in the frame, panting and perspiring.

"New… info!" he wheezed. "For real this time! The president's… coming in… by chopper! Nine-o'-clock! He's… headed for… the TV station, just like we heard!"

"TV Station?" Squall repeated. The gears in his head began turning; a pair of disjointed pieces slowly clicked into place.

"By chopper?!" Zell spluttered. "Aircraft haven't been used since the radio interference started!"

"They've developed new, experimental navigation technology now," Zone clarified. He reached down under the table as Watts stumbled to his seat. "State-of-the-art, AI operated. The army's started implementing it on some of their newest weapons, and for the guidance systems on their long range ballistic missiles. It's all in here."

His hand reemerged with a black magazine. He slid it down the length of the table into Zell's waiting glove. The blonde raised it to his face, briefly inspecting the cover before opening it. Selphie peered over his shoulder to scan the pages with him. Squall trained his eyes to the bulky red text on the cover: 'Anarchist Monthly, Vol. 4'.

"This is an actual publication?!" Selphie gasped at the contents.

"Was," Rinoa corrected her. "It only lasted four issues. Then the government stepped in. They told Timber Maniacs they'd be shut down if they didn't hand over the writer. He's locked up in the D-District Prison out west, now."

"With the kind of dirt that's in here, can't say I'm surprised," Zell spoke solemnly. He closed the magazine, and set it back down on the table. "So much for freedom of the press, huh?"

"Not in this city," Zone affirmed.

"So, what's this about a TV station?" Squall steered the conversation back on track.

"We learned that's the whole reason Deling's coming to Timber in the first place. He's going to make a broadcast of some kind. What I don't get is why he needs to come all the way out here. Surely he could do it right from the capital."

"I've read up about that station before," Zell spoke up. "It's one of the few left that hasn't totally gutted its wireless radio systems, right?"

Bulls-eye.

"Yeah, for all the good that does nowadays," Rinoa scoffed.

Zell's eyes turned across the table to Squall. The two shared a look of mutual understanding.

"You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?"

"Has to be," Squall agreed. "The timing's too close."

"What is?" Rinoa darted her eyes between them. "If you know something, then spit it out!"

"You know the siege on Dollet two weeks ago? We were on the ground there. We learned that Galbadia's objective was to capture the abandoned communications tower in the mountains, and reactivate it. The ceasefire was called on the condition it stayed up and running."

He deliberately neglected to mention how the three of them had nearly shut the tower down themselves, and sent the entire ceasefire up in flames. There was also the matter of he and Seifer having effectively given the same treatment to Quistis' teaching career, as well. He was man enough to accept the blame without Zell's constant pestering. What he could not accept was that it had been the wrong choice in the heat of the moment. Every recollection came with an unsettling mental dissonance, tearing him between his duty as a SeeD, and his own code of ethics. He now longed for any memory of that day to stay buried in the depths of his subconscious, along with every moment of weakness he'd ever lived.

"I get it," Zone hummed. He brought his hand up to his goateed chin. "The station combined with a powerful enough transmitter… even with the interference, it might be enough to send off a short broadcast, even to places without HD cabling."

"As if anyone's gonna have their TV set up to receive radio waves!" Selphie blurted out. "Who's he think is gonna be standing by to see it?"

"Only one way to find out," Rinoa said. "It's got to be something big for him to go this far out of his way. We need to get down there and figure out what's going on. Or… better yet, we could hijack the broadcast for ourselves! Let the people know Timber is still standing strong!"

"That's a brilliant idea, miss!" Watts broke his silence. "We could have the first radio wave broadcast in 17 years be Timber's declaration of independence!"

"And I take it we're coming along for the ride?" Squall sulked. He no longer had the patience nor will to point out their idea's impracticality; the headmaster's imprecise wording had already doomed him and his comrades to their fate.

"Hey, I thought you were paid professionals?" Rinoa scolded him. "No complaining! Now come on, let's get down to the TV station."

"I'll lead the way, miss!" Watts volunteered. "The city's crawling with patrols, but if we take the back streets, we should be able to make it there without drawing attention. You're coming too, right, sir?"

"Ow!" Zone doubled over, clutching his midriff. "My stomach's acting up again!"

Forget being trapped in a moron's body. This is what hell really is…

The trek to the city's downtown district was long, and rife with detours; Watts had led them on through winding back alleys and sparsely frequented side streets for more than an hour. They'd eventually retraced the previous morning's route back to the train station, where an entire platoon of soldiers gathered in the square outside the Timber-Balamb terminal had forced them to take the long way around.

In general, the number of guards now patrolling the streets had increased from the day before. Their presence brought the morning commute to a virtual standstill; blaring horns and revving motors coalesced into a full automotive symphony against the quaint, old-world buildings the five slunk between. Soon enough, the whipping of helicopter rotors entered the arrangement. They drew closer, prompting Squall to raise his head. A sleek black chopper passed overhead, momentarily blotting out the sun as it moved due east.

"There he goes!" Rinoa shrilled. "We've got to get moving!"

"Sorry, miss!" Watts apologized. "It's hard to make headway with so many patrols about."

I'd bet our hijacking attempt didn't help there.

Squall carried his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He had left his unpacked clothes back at the hideout to make room for his gunblade and Selphie's nunchaku inside. The route Watts had taken them on, while slow, had nearly rendered the precaution unnecessary; the irregularity with which they'd crossed a patrol was laudable. Much to his own surprise, Squall soon found himself warming to the over-eager young man. Irritating though he was, he knew the city streets inside and out.

The group at last came to an alley running along the rear of a large pub. They took cover behind a cluster of rusted steel barrels, and peered out into the circular plaza ahead. The towering TV station loomed to the left, its exterior a stark contrast to the city's antiquated architecture; the gleaming blue and gold color palette resembled Balamb Garden's own. A small squad of soldiers with rifles stood before the glass-paned entrance. Above, a massive monitor was situated on the side of the building. The screen showed only a mishmash of static interference and random alpha-numeric characters, its speakers outputting a continual stream of white noise.

"That's… kinda freaky," Rinoa muttered as she stared up at the swirling hodgepodge. "What the heck causes this, anyway?"

"No one really knows," Zell said. "Supposedly, it just started up outta nowhere one day, and hasn't stopped since. There's a theory, though… that maybe Esthar was developing some kind of advanced electromagnetic bomb that went haywire."

"You're talking about that huge crater up near the Vienne mountains, right?" Selphie jumped in. "My class at Trabia went on a field expedition out there a few years back. It's a total wasteland for miles, and swarming with monsters. There's no way to cross into Esthar from it."

"Yeah, and unless they decide to re-open their borders, we're never gonna get a straight answer. Whatever it was, it must've been one hell of a weapon to make a blast that big. Really makes you wonder what's been going on over there."

Or why the conflict stopped in the first place.

"Let's keep our focus on the mission," Rinoa reminded them. "So, how're we getting in?"

You're asking us?

"Looks pretty tightly guarded, miss!" Watts observed. "There's no way we'll be able to storm in through the front. I'll circle around and check the rear."

The young man turned tail to make his way back along the alley. He cut a sharp turn down an intersection, and disappeared.

"We really can't just rush in, huh?" she sighed. "I guess… we just wait? Maybe once Deling's finished, the guards'll leave with him. Then we can get in there and do our broadcast. It might not make as big an impact, but it's better than nothing, right? I mean, there's no way we'd stand a chance if we took 'em head on, right?"

Who is this 'we'?

Sneaking inside with the president about to take the stage was an impossibility. Beyond the squad at the entrance, there was bound to be an even greater security detail within the station itself. Deling would surely be evacuated long before they reached the broadcast studio, provided they could even make it there; they would be severely outnumbered on all sides in a cramped indoor environment. Rinoa's involvement only complicated the matter.

Most worrying of all was the lack of any discernible plan of action. Even the train hijacking plot, though ill-considered, had provided Squall and his teammates as much. A mercenary's role was to execute the orders relayed by his employer. In the face of such gross incompetence however, Squall's tolerance was rapidly reaching a boiling point.

"We'll engage based on your decision," he spoke dryly. "You tell us to go, we go, even if it's a losing battle. That's our duty."

"Well, doesn't that sound like a winning attitude," Rinoa huffed, placing her hands on her hips. "It's your 'duty'? What an easy life it must be to follow orders blindly."

"Call it what you want. You hired SeeD, and we were sent to assist. That's it. With the way your faction operates though, I'd say you're beyond help."

"Excuse me?!"

Rinoa's eyes widened in disbelief. Squall averted his own.

"Squall!" Selphie chastised him, tugging the sleeve of his jacket. "That was so uncalled for!"

"If you have something to say, then say it!" Rinoa demanded.

"Just forget it," he dismissed her. He jerked his arm away from Selphie's prying. "It's none of your business."

"You started it. Tell me. This is an order… an order from your client!"

"This is an order from your captain, Squall. Now, do as you're told!"

It all suddenly made sense. When he'd first learned of their relationship, Squall could not understand what had drawn two personalities so diametrically opposed together. He had eventually noticed the similarities in their stubborn demeanor and delusions of grandeur, but still, the linchpin had eluded him, until now. They were both prone to arrogance at the very whiff of power, and had no qualms about using it to abuse their subordinates as they saw fit. Upon closer examination, it was little surprise at all; they were practically perfect for one another. Together, they embodied everything Squall despised to his very core.

"Alright," he grumbled, staring daggers at her. "How serious are you? Really? For a group with such lofty ambitions, it doesn't show in your work ethic. Your leader is a spineless coward. Your informant doesn't bother to check where he's getting his info from. Your plans are the most slapdash I've ever seen. And on top of it all, you can't make a decision without asking for our input. How do you think it feels for us to be working for an organization like this? Least of all, when we have nothing to go off of besides some vague written agreement from the headmaster. We're laying down our lives to assist you, and you act like it's some kind of game!"

"Holy crap, Squall!"

He turned away from the awestruck young woman to meet Zell, the look in his eyes pleading with him to be civil. Selphie stood by his side in utter shock.

"You've been thinking the same thing," he replied. "I'm just the one who finally said something about it."

"Then, tell me this," Rinoa finally spoke again, an audible tremor in her voice. "Is being a cold-hearted, emotionless drone another one of those skills SeeDs have to learn? Because if it is, then I'm glad Seifer didn't make the cut."

"Wait," Zell started. "How do you know Sei-"

"As a matter of fact, it is," Squall cut him off. "It's called 'discipline', and it's something every soldier worth their merit needs to internalize."

A hush fell over the confrontation. Only the hissing static from the station's monitor broke the silence. Rinoa's stare fell to the cobbled pavement.

"'Discipline'…" she echoed him. "That sounds just like…"

She trailed off. After a moment, she raised her eyes back to Squall, shooting him a look of disgust.

"You know, maybe this was all just a big mistake. I thought everything would work out once we hired SeeD. I thought maybe we'd finally be able to make a difference, and show the people hope for a brighter future. But, it looks like it's not that simple. I guess it doesn't matter what army you serve. In the end, it just comes down to following orders, all the same. It's not like you're one of us. I'm gonna go catch up with Watts, tell him we're calling it off, and head back to base. Take your time coming back."

She shoved her way past the three of them, stopped as she reached the intersecting alleyway Watts had taken, and turned around. Her puffy eyes were now fighting to hold back tears.

"You think this is all a game to us? Well, it's not! Zone and Watts' dads started the Forest Owls when Galbadia invaded. They were captured and publicly executed, as an example for the rest of the resistance factions after they were driven underground. They've dedicated their entire lives to honoring the sacrifice they made. And me… I've got my own reasons for fighting. I'll do whatever it takes to bring Galbadia down. So, don't you dare talk down to me, and say we're not serious. We are! We're so serious, it hurts…"

She bolted down the alley without another word. Squall turned his head away, meeting Selphie's fierce green-eyed stare.

"Well, aren't you just a charmer!" she snapped. "I hope you're real proud of yourself!"

"It needed to be said. Her carelessness was liable to get us all killed. It almost did this morning."

"There are nicer ways to put it, though! You nearly made her cry!"

"I… didn't realize those guys had it so rough," Zell mumbled. He propped himself up against the alley wall, training his eyes to his sneakers.

"I never knew my dad, but… I think I understand where they're coming from. My grandpa passed a few years back, and I took it really hard. He fought in the war before I was born; the whole reason I joined SeeD was to follow in his footsteps. He was the guy I looked up to the most. Hewasgetting up there, so it wasn't a huge surprise. But… having your dad ripped away from you like that when you're a kid… I wouldn't wish that on anyone."

"You're telling me," Selphie agreed with a dour look.

Squall paced to the opposite end of the alley. He crouched beside the nearest barrel for cover, lowered his duffel bag to the ground, and turned his gaze to the swirling display above. Regardless of whatever tragedies the Owls had faced, it was no excuse for their sloppiness. If anything, it was a gross disservice to the cause their fathers had died for. Squall had no family of his own; he'd grown up with no role model to inspire confidence in him, nor teach him valuable life lessons. In defiance of the lonesome upbringing he'd been dealt, he'd taken every step possible to achieve self-reliance. The past meant nothing to him now. He longed only to forget what little of it he still remembered.

"I WILL NEVER LET YOU FORGET ABOUT ME."

He blinked his eyes in confusion, swearing he'd just seen those very words flash on the giant monitor. They'd disappeared into the sea of static just as quickly. Moments later, the static itself slowly began to fizzle out, revealing the garbled image of a speaking podium with five microphones set atop. Two black flags bearing the crest of Galbadia were hung on either side against red curtains to the rear. A blonde announcer in a pinstripe suit stood at the lectern; the exceedingly grainy image quality made his facial features virtually indiscernible. He organized a set of papers atop before turning his attention to the camera.

"Hello?" he spoke; the static interference rendered his voice slightly distorted. "Testing… hello? People of the world? Can you hear me? Can you see me?"

"It's starting?" Zell asked as he and Selphie strolled up.

"Are they shooting this on a potato?" the girl asked as she crouched down beside Squall to watch.

"Just goes to show how bad the interference is," Zell explained. "They needed the communication tower linked up just to pull this off. Anyway, wonder what this is all about."

"Oh, this is just incredible!" the emcee proclaimed. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is not a recording. It is an actual live broadcast over the air! The first of its kind in 17 years, no less! What a truly monumental occasion! We are coming to you live from Timber, with an important message from Galbadian President Vinzer Deling. And so, without further ado, let's hear from the man of the hour himself. Ladies and gentlemen of the world, President Deling!"

The giddy speaker swiftly vacated the podium as another middle-aged man in a dark suit walked on screen from the right. Heavily pixelated as his face was, Squall could vaguely see a similarity to the demonic imposter from the train. The attire he wore cut a sharp figure on what was otherwise a rather portly man. He strode up to the microphones, adjusted his collar, and began to speak.

"Greetings to you all, be you in Galbadia or Timber, Dollet or Balamb, Trabia or even Esthar. This broadcast is being streamed across the globe on every common frequency. I am Vinzer Deling, life-long president of Galbadia. Today, I am here to make a humble proposition to the leaders of the world, and their people. A call for unity and understanding, so that we may end all needless conflict. That we may exist together peacefully, as one collective world body."

"No way," Zell scoffed. "A peace proposal?"

"Man," Selphie sighed in relief. "Maybe the guy's not so bad after all?"

There's always a catch. And just who's going to be at the top of this new world order?

"Under my administration, Galbadia has sought reunification with the western territories for the last 20 years. But, that is merely the first step of many on the road to a better future. I would wish to meet with the leaders of the world to discuss these matters in further detail. Unfortunately, there remain many trifling problems between Galbadia and-"

Deling suddenly cut himself off. His eyes momentarily pivoted upward to the studio ceiling, as if something had drawn his attention away. After a brief pause, he craned his neck back down.

"Forgive me. As I was saying, it is regrettable that even now there remains discord between Galbadia and other nations. In the most extreme cases, it has grown into violent insurrection. An attempt was made on my life this very morning. Rest assured, the plot has been thwarted, and the insurgents' hideout uncovered by our tracking specialists. Our armed forces should be dealing with them as we speak."

"Wha-?!" Selphie yelped.

Squall just barely managed to cover her mouth before her outburst drew the guards' attention. It was unexpected news to be sure, but unsurprising; the destroyed presidential carriage had been left on the tracks leading back to the Owls' base.

"Rinoa's not gonna be happy," Zell grimly muttered.

"I owe the foiling of this treachery in no small part to the ambassador I am here to introduce. She will be my representative for the coming discussions. Seventeen years ago, Galbadia waged a bloody war with Esthar, the nation commanded by the wicked Sorceress Adel. And now, today, I am honored to formally announce our own alliance with yet another sorceress."

You must be joking.

"And so, ladies and gentlemen of the world-"

Deling's speech was abruptly drowned out by a loud metal screeching. He tilted his eyes up again. His mouth shot open in shock as he backpedaled away from the lectern, practically wrapping himself in the curtains. A massive chunk of metal scaffolding suddenly crashed down onto the stage. The camera shook violently, the audio clipping over the speakers as the podium was crushed to splinters.

Squall stared on in horror with his own mouth agape. A flash of grey dropped from above as the dust settled. It charged for the president, and forcefully yanked him out from the backdrop. The assailant spun Deling around, pressing an ebony blade to his throat. Even as the interference distorted the fine details, Squall could easily recognize the manner in which he held the weapon; the pistol-shaped grip was unmistakable.

"Seifer?!" Zell flipped.

"What's he doing here?!" Selphie shrilled.

Squall was at a loss for words. Before he could find them, another figure leapt down from the rafters. Her golden fringes whipped wildly as she landed, her right hand clutching a coiled metal whip with a spiked tip at the end.

"Instructor?!" Zell reeled. "What the hell's going on?!"

She held out her hands to a platoon of armed guards stepping into the camera's lens. What words she shouted to them Squall could not tell; all audio had cut out with the podium's destruction. Seifer tugged at the president's shirt collar in the background, and began dragging him to the side of the stage with the Hyperion still pressed to his neck. At last, the video footage cut out, and reverted to pure static.

"Squall?" Selphie racked his shoulder.

Damn it all.

He reached for the duffel bag, unzipping it as quickly as he could. By the time he'd pulled out his gunblade and clipped the sheath to his belt, Zell had already rounded the corner into the plaza. He followed after as Selphie drew her nunchaku. The guards outside the station had begun their charge inside to provide backup. Zell slammed the ground with his fist. A tremor tore through the cobbled earth just as Squall had seen in Dollet. The squad spun around at the approaching rumble, and simultaneously yelped in alarm as the upsurge of energy sent them flying in all directions. The three SeeDs charged forward, reaching the automatic glass doors before the last body hit the ground.

"Where the hell's the studio?" Zell barked. He raced over to the lobby directory, hastily scanning his eyes over it.

"Maybe we could've tailed those guys instead?" Selphie hinted belatedly.

"Could've, would've, should've. Here we go! Main sound stage, third floor, room 301. Let's move!"

They bolted into the waiting elevator. Squall punched the button for the third floor as soon as he stepped aboard, and proceeded to jam the door-close button repeatedly until the lift responded. His mind raced a mile a minute as they rose. What could have happened back at the Garden in the mere two days they'd been away? How had Seifer gotten to Timber? Why had he come? And why was he after the president?

Actually, those last two might not be so hard to guess.

"Shields up," he ordered.

Squall activated the sphere on his belt. The shimmering energy barrier flashed in front of him as the elevator dinged, slowing to a halt. Zell and Selphie mirrored his casting, readying themselves for whatever awaited them on the other side. Squall drew his gunblade as the doors parted. A long string of blue uniforms lined the hall ahead of them, their weapons trained to the door at the opposite end. Not content to let their element of surprise go to waste, he leapt from the elevator, slicing down the nearest soldier without bothering to pull the trigger.

The man's cry gave way to a confused uproar. Every other soldier turned on the spot to face them. Machine gun fire erupted as Zell and Selphie moved in to engage; the bullets harmlessly pinged off their barriers, impacting into the office walls and other soldiers alike. The three slashed, pummeled, and beat their way through the security forces with relative ease. The clattering gunfire ceased after several seconds. Having apparently realized their firearms were doing more harm than good, the soldiers holstered their weapons in exchange for the glaives at their sides.

Squall expertly parried each of their strikes, slicing through them one after another with trained precision. His vision tunneled; for but those few moments in time, nothing was real to him but the clashing of steel on steel. Before he knew it, the corridor ahead was clear. The floor beneath his feet now lay strewn with carnage, his blade soaked a brilliant crimson.

And still, it doesn't feel real…

"Come on!" Zell urged him. "It should be just up ahead!"

Squall followed his lead down the desecrated hall, sidestepping fallen bodies and weapons. He procured a rag from his back pocket to wipe away the blood from his sword; it proved just barely sufficient for the amount. He stowed it away again as Zell burst through the double doors ahead.

The three emerged into a brilliantly lit sound stage. Wheeled cameras dotted the floor, their connecting cables forming a veritable web of wires. All were trained to the fallen segment of scaffolding where the podium once stood. Eight armed guards stood among them. Most kept their rifles locked to Seifer and his captive at the stage's rear. Two had diverted their sights to Quistis on the middle-right. Without the camera's grainy filter, Squall could now properly make out her attire. She was dressed in a salmon-pink zip-up vest with a matching skirt, running down to her knees atop a pair of black boots. Her arms bore matching brown warmers and gloves. A sub-set of the guards swiveled around to face him and his entourage as they stepped through. The maddened blonde youth smirked as his eyes met Squall's from across the divide.

"I wondered who was making all that racket out there," he sneered.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Squall snapped. "Why are you getting involved in this?!"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm just doing my duty as a man, and making sure you three don't screw it all up! Her whole objective was to get this guy, right?"

You've already screwed things up more than we ever could.

"I get it!" Zell blurted. "You're Rinoa's-"

"Shut your damn mouth, chicken-wuss!"

He's right, Zell. Just keep your mouth shut, and don't say anything stupid.

"You really are bat-shit, aren't you?" he fired back. "You came all the way from the Garden just to-"

"Shut up!" Squall exploded.

His voice reverberated through the studio. Zell and Selphie reeled in shock. The soldiers facing them twitched, focusing their barrels solely on him. He turned to Quistis; her dread-filled face, now absent the usual silver-rimmed glasses, confirmed he was not alone.

"Garden?" Deling chortled from within Seifer's grasp. "I see… so, you're all from SeeD."

Zell's face turned white as a sheet as he realized his blunder. With just one ill-conceived taunt, he'd laid waste to their entire operation. The repercussions would be severe.

"Rest assured, should anything happen to me, the Galbadian army will reduce your precious Garden to a heap of smoldering ash," the president threatened with a sardonic smile. He craned his head back to Seifer. "You may let go of me now."

"Nice going, chicken-wuss! You and your big mouth just blew everything!"

Rather than releasing him, Seifer only tightened his grip on Deling's collar, and began dragging him off stage. Zell stood silent with his head bowed.

"Take care of his friends!" the president ordered his men as he was hauled away.

On command, the rest of the infantry spun around, and trained their rifles to the SeeDs. The wider scope of the room notwithstanding, Squall knew dealing with them ought to be no more challenging than the guards in the hallway. All he, his teammates, and Quistis need do was conjure another set of barriers, and their firearms would be rendered useless. It would have been another matter entirely had Rinoa tagged along with them.

"Guys!" a familiar voice called from behind.

You've got to be kidding.

He tilted his head back to see Rinoa and Watts come dashing in through the doors. They skidded to a halt before the mess of wires running across the floor. The rifles' clacking drew Squall's focus back to the guards; they'd shifted their aim to the newly arrived duo. He prepared to make the charge forward, when a glistening light from atop the stage caught his attention.

Quistis' metal whip now shone a vibrant sky blue; it shimmered brightly with an audible hiss. Her eyes were shut in concentration as she continued to pump more and more energy into the weapon. She opened them, and fiercely lashed it. As it traversed its horizontal arc, a cluster of fist-sized ice chunks materialized in its wake. The conjured hailstorm blasted forth in a scatter shot, slamming into the distracted soldiers from behind. Excess chunks smashed into the cameras spread about, toppling them over just as easily. The icy blue aura faded away as the whip came to a rest at her side.

"Come on!" she called to them. "Barricade the doors, and let's go!"

Squall complied at once. He and Zell made for the nearest camera, and heaved it up together. Rinoa and Watts shut the doors behind them before bolting in to assist. They joined Selphie in raising another, moving it back to the entrance beside Squall and Zell's own.

"How did you get in?" he asked Rinoa.

"I circled around back, and ran into Watts," she explained. "Apparently, he bumped into Seifer. He said he went in through the side stairwell. We just followed the trail of bodies, and wound up here. I… can't believe he actually came. Where is he?"

"Backstage with Deling," Zell grunted. He and Selphie lowered a desk with an audio mixing console to reinforce the barricade. "We gotta get moving before he does something… well, even more stupid."

The five of them promptly regrouped with Quistis. Together, they trotted backstage down a dimly-lit hallway lined by dressing rooms. All was quiet save for the pounding of their boots on the polished floor. Soon enough, an argument came into earshot from the open double doors at the end.

"… no other option. The only thing killing me will do is guarantee the complete annihilation of your home, and everyone you hold dear."

"And who do you think I'd miss? You don't know a damn thing about me!"

Squall led the way forward. He rushed ahead at top speed, readying himself to leap forward into the fray. Just as he reached the door frame, he slammed hard into what felt like a solid wall. He toppled backward onto the linoleum with an anguished cry. The five to his rear came to an abrupt halt just behind his head.

"The hell?" Zell said.

"Are you alright, sir?" Watts asked.

The worried young man extended his hand to him. He took hold of it, and raised himself back to his feet. He turned his eyes again to the door frame; it was perfectly wide open. Seifer stood with his hostage in the center of a dark, elegantly decorated dressing room, the walls swathed with drapery on all sides. A pair of candles set on the vanity table provided the only light. He stared into the mirror with Deling, his wicked smirk unflinching. Squall reached out his hand to the open doorway. His prodding fingers met resistance once again, as if an invisible wall had been erected between the two parties.

Did he do this?

"How's this for a bitter end?" Seifer sneered into the mirror. "To see the life fade from your eyes as your blood runs all over the floor?"

"Don't do it, Seifer!" Quistis pleaded with him. "The consequences will be disastrous!"

"I told you, I've had enough of your nannying!" Seifer snapped. He turned to face them with his gunblade still held to Deling's throat. "This is my story. My dream. And I'm going to see it through no matter what it takes!"

His dream…

"What a poor, helpless little boy."

The icy voice echoed through the dark dressing room and into the hall; its very timbre sent a shiver down Squall's spine. Seifer darted his head in every direction, unable to deduce its source. Squall's breath caught in his throat as he noticed a shroud of dark mist congeal into being behind him. It hissed as it rapidly swelled in both height and width. The grey-coated young man abruptly spun around with his captive to face the sound.

A distinctly feminine figure emerged from the mist, her visage shrouded in the eerie shadows cast by the flickering candlelight. Squall strained his eyes to peer through the darkness. She wore a tight-fitting, violet dress, its collar and shoulders adorned with black feathers. Her face was concealed by a pointed, blood-red mask resembling a hawk. A headpiece decorated with all manner of strange effects sat atop. Some appeared to be devilish horns jutting out at asymmetrical angles; the rest, he couldn't make out.

"Where were you?!" Deling bellowed. "Dammit, never mind that now. Just get me out of this mess! Turn this brat into one of those things, like my body double!"

"Who the hell are you?" Seifer growled.

"Such a confused little boy, aren't you?" She taunted him again, taking a step forward.

"Stay back!" he roared, pressing the blade ever closer to Deling's neck.

He backed the two of them away towards the door. She ignored his demand, continuing to inch forward.

"You're standing idle at the crossroads between innocence and maturity, unsure of which path will lead you to your destiny. Torn between right and wrong. Looked down on by those around you. Scorned for being different from the rest, for being the bothersome nail that sticks up. It's a feeling I know all too well… and so, I've come to offer you a reprieve."

"I told you to stay back! Come any closer, and I will slit his throat!"

"The man in you is telling you to step forward. The boy is telling you to back away. You just can't make up your mind, can you? You want someone to save you from this predicament. It's perfectly fine to ask for help. You're only a little boy, after all."

"I am not a boy!"

"So… you don't want to be a boy anymore?"

She now stood directly in front of him. Seifer's height and Deling's portly figure combined almost completely obscured her from Squall's vision. The invisible barrier kept him from moving any closer. His heart pounded in his chest as the tension built to its climax.

"Then come with me," she hissed. "Come with me to a place of no return. Bid farewell to your childhood, and become the man you were destined to be."

Her right arm protruded from behind the two men; the hawk mask rested within her black-gloved fingers. Seconds passed in dead silence; no one among the six standing in the hall nor the three in the room uttered a sound. For those few moments, the world stood still. It was set back in motion by a sudden metal clank.

Seifer's gunblade fell from his grasp to the floor. He stood completely still as the same dark mist enveloped him, rapidly thickening until it blocked out any sight of the room's shadowy interior. It slowly faded away, leaving no trace of life behind. Seifer, Deling, and the woman were gone, along with the fallen ebony gunblade.

"T-that… that didn't actually happen, right?" Zell stammered from behind.

Squall turned back to glance between the five in his presence. All wore matching looks of bewilderment, each speaking louder than any verbal affirmation. Neither did he need a mirror to know his own face looked the same.

It couldn't have been real. Those are just old fairy tales… aren't they?

"We… we need to get out of here now," Quistis said. "Reinforcements are bound to be on the way."

"Let's get back to the hideout!" Rinoa took charge, clearly trying to shake off her nerves.

"There should be a fire escape on the other side of the stage, everyone!" Watts announced. He spun on his heel, and darted back down the corridor.

"Um, about that," Selphie hesitantly spoke. "Is there… anywhere else safe you know?"

"Why?" Rinoa asked.

Selphie glanced to Zell, and then he to Squall. He averted his eyes; when considering their earlier falling out, hearing the tragic news from him would surely only add insult to injury. It was a responsibility he refused to accept.

"Rinoa," Zell took on the burden. "I'm sorry, but… this is gonna be hard for you to hear."