17
CHAPTER 17 – A SACRIFICIAL RITE
Rinoa heaved up against the manhole cover, raising it ever so slightly, and peered her eyes through the crack. The alleyway was bare save for several carelessly strewn piles of trash. Her years of breaking curfew had imbued her with intimate knowledge of the sewer system; while neither the most elegant nor hygienic mode of passage, it had served her need for escapism all the same. Now, it would help her make the difference she'd long sought to in the fight against Galbadia, and beyond that, alleviate her aching heart of the agony left by words unsaid.
She slid the cover along the pavement, and hoisted herself up to street level. The alley ran between a pair of high-rise buildings to the west end of the Presidential Square. The restless din of the crowd reached her ears from several blocks over. The sky had fallen completely dark; what little light there was came from the streetlamps along the road ahead. She returned the cover to its resting position, and proceeded down the dimly lit stretch. A bustling procession of last-minute stragglers passed by the alley's mouth. She casually stepped out on the sidewalk to mingle with them.
The tall digital clock over the Presidential Residence caught her eye; its display read 19:03:25. She reflexively quickened her pace to a brisk speed-walk. That she did not hear a speech in progress from the street over assured her she still had time to spare, however little. She broke off from the group of townsfolk after three blocks, continuing past the main intersection to the residence's left-hand flank.
She soon came to a narrow side entryway, crowded by various unattended loading vehicles left parked along the street. Two armored guards stood to either side of the iron gate. Neither had yet noticed her, concealed as she was by the nearest cargo truck. She slowly peeked her head over the hood. The knot in her stomach further tightened. Her ruse would require all her wits, and a sharp tongue to match, not to mention luck that they did not immediately notice the sewers' stench on her clothes. She exhaled to calm herself, and stepped out from cover. She moved forward, straightening her posture, and adopting an elegant stride.
Relax. Just be natural, and even a little entitled if you have to. It's not completely untrue, after all.
"State your business," the guard on the right ordered. "This area is off limits to civilians."
"Rinoa Caraway," she introduced herself, adopting the most firm tone she could. "Daughter of General Caraway. I've come to pay our respects to the sorceress in his stead."
The soldier turned his head to his fellow sentry. Their visors met in what seemed to be skepticism.
"Did the general have a daughter?"
"I think I remember hearing something about that a few years back," the other replied.
"Please, let me through!" she doubled down. "I need to see her right away!"
"I'm afraid we're going to need to see some ID first," the guard told her. "Sorry, we're not just going to take your word for it."
Rinoa's heart sunk into her stomach. Her old city residence card had gone up with the rest of the Forest Owls' hideout, leaving her with nothing on hand to prove her legitimacy.
"I don't have time for this!" she piled on the frantic intensity. "She's expecting me! I'm telling you, if you don't let me in to see her, my father's not the only one you're going to be hearing from about this!"
"And I'm telling you that if we can't verify who you are, you're not coming in! It's that simple. We're not about to let a complete stranger stroll onto the premises. If you don't have an ID, then please leave the area. I'm not going to ask you-"
"Hey, what's goin' on over here?"
Rinoa turned her head to see a third soldier approaching from the direction of the Presidential Square. He strode down the sidewalk at a brisk jaunt.
"This girl says she's the general's daughter," the second guard told him. "I've never seen her around, and she really doesn't want to show us any kind of ID. What about you, Owens? Ring any bells?"
The newcomer looked Rinoa up and down, his lips pursed in contemplation. She began to consider if her efforts were in vain after all; perhaps the best course of action now would be a hasty retreat the moment she got the chance.
"Wait a minute," the solder suddenly spoke. "Yeah, I remember you!"
Her heart skipped a beat.
"You were the one with the sorceress' knight yesterday, right? You know, when I bumped into him in the square. He's… not still mad about what I said, is he? It was an honest mistake, I swear!"
"Hold it, Owens," the first guard suddenly cut in. Rinoa struggled to keep her face free of befuddlement in the meantime.
He's obviously talking about Squall, but… 'sorceress' knight'? What's that supposed to mean?
"The knight hasn't stepped off the premises for the last three days! You couldn't have seen him in the square!"
"Yeah," the second concurred. "And your beat's been out here ever since he showed up, right? So, how the hell would you know what he looks like?"
"'Cause he was exactly like Boals told me back at the barracks," Owens insisted. "Young kid with a scar running down from his forehead and across the bridge of his nose, right? You're not gonna tell me there'd be two guys with a wound just like that!"
Rinoa's blood froze. Her confusion abruptly turned to shock, which then blossomed into hope, before reverting back to bewilderment all in the span of a second. Countless questions shot through her mind, each and every one composite to a single, earth-shattering revelation. There had in fact been two men with such a scar. If what she was hearing could be believed, there still were.
"I… guess not," the first guard muttered. "It doesn't make any sense, though. I could've sworn he never-"
"D-do you believe me now?!" Rinoa cut him off. "I've told you once: if you don't let me through, you're going to have more people to answer to than just my father!"
The three soldiers fell silent. With an exasperated sigh, the first turned around, gripped the gate's iron latch, and heaved it upward into its unlocked position. He swung it open with one arm.
"Be quick about it," he grumbled. "The president should be starting his speech any minute now."
Rinoa bowed her head, and practically bolted on through the gate. She emerged onto the western stretch of the complex's inner courtyard. Dozens of unpacked wooden crates lay piled up across the expanse, gutted of their contents, and left cluttered about the premises. She navigated her way around them to the front of the complex. Reaching the curved wall just before the revolving glass entrance, she pressed her back up against it and poked her head around the corner.
The main gate stood at the fore. The streets beyond were packed to the brim with city folk, their restless murmuring carried over on the wind. A massive parade float sat on the opposite end of the inner courtyard, illuminated by the two blazing torches on either side of its front, and the glowing blue halo fixture above. A gilded throne framed by large angel wings sat at the platform's rear.
A marching band and a troupe of masked dancers in red and black leather were gathered all around. Rinoa scanned her eyes over the congregation, looking for any sign of the signature blonde hair or grey jacket. Could it have been possible? Had the sorceress in fact spared his life, despite the word they'd received to the contrary? And if so, what did it all mean?
'The sorceress' knight'… there's no way he would-
"Good evening, people of Deling City!" a sudden amplified proclamation reverberated overhead. "Nay, people of the world! On behalf of the Galbadian Presidential Administration, I bid you all welcome on this monumental night!"
A reasonably energetic round of applause sprung up beyond the gates. Despite the swell in volume, Rinoa knew it to be born out obligation as opposed to genuine enthusiasm. Even among his nation's own people, Deling's approval had been on a steady decline since the end of the war 17 years earlier. He'd been granted his indefinite term extension solely for the purpose of maintaining stable leadership during that period, with the expectation that he would step down afterward. As no formal treaty had been signed with Esthar however, the legalese under which the extension had been passed remained in effect. He'd now been president for a full two decades after his initial term should have ended. To have now suddenly forged an alliance with another sorceress only provided further cause for concern.
"We thank you all for waiting so patiently!" the emcee continued. "It is a very special occasion indeed! Tonight, we gather to celebrate the union of our great nation with our esteemed guest of honor, Sorceress Edea. But first, let us welcome a familiar face to the stage. Making his first public appearance since the attempt on his life in Timber, ladies and gentlemen, President Vinzer Deling!"
Rinoa dashed around the corner and in through the revolving front entrance. Several attendants and other staff traipsed across the ornamented grand foyer, none paying her any mind as she entered. It seemed she would not need to fall back on her cover story again so quickly; that she'd been granted entry onto the premises to begin with was apparently enough not to draw attention. She confidently and calmly marched forward to the main staircase, and ascended to the upper levels.
Her first and only prior visit to the Presidential Residence had been at age 11, when she and her father had attended Deling's son's wedding. The reception then had been relegated to the second floor ballroom. As such, her memory was of no use in navigating the third floor's winding halls. She closely hugged the walls as she progressed, keeping her sense of direction oriented towards the estate's southern end. Voices approaching from down the adjacent halls forced her to double back twice; she doubted those higher up the chain of command would be as likely to buy her explanation.
After roughly two minutes, she turned along a windowed intersection to reach an ornate oak doorway. A silver plaque above read 'Commencement Hall'. She strode forward, and pressed her ear to the etchings. Faint reverberations of Deling's ongoing speech were all she could discern. With a quick glance down either end of the corridor, she sucked in a deep breath, and delicately cracked open the door.
Her eyes met the dimly lit hall within, swathed in translucent white drapery from front to back. The only light came from a chandelier hung high above in the center, situated in a domed alcove of blue stained glass. A lone figure sat in a love seat directly below, facing a set of closed double doors on the opposite end of the hall. She wore a large golden back-piece; seven pointed spokes jutted out from its half-circle base. A pair of flowing trails fashioned from the same sheer fabric as the curtains dangled from the bottom. Through the gaps in between the spokes, she noticed the familiar headdress topped by three curving, devilish horns.
Rinoa's pulse quickened. She reached back into her rear pouch, and withdrew one of the Odine Bangles; just one would suffice, namely the one not equipped with the switch to engage their magnetic binding to each other. She'd come so far. She now stood within a matter of yards from the second most important figurehead in Galbadia. And yet, knowing what she needed to do, the distance between might have been a mile. She would need to be deathly quiet in her approach, delicate in her enactment, and faster than she'd ever moved to make her getaway.
Steadying her breath support, she cracked open the door further, and sidled inside, closing it as discreetly as possible. The sorceress remained stationary. She slowly crept up behind, putting the utmost care into each step. Before long, she stopped breathing altogether; it was as much to keep herself quiet as to steady her shaking hand holding the bracelet. Just five more steps remained. Four. Three. Two.
"Explain yourself."
The frigid voice halted Rinoa in her tracks. Her eyes went wide.
"P-pardon me, your… excellency," she stammered. "I'm, um… the d-daughter of General Caraway. I just thought I'd… you know, come pay my r-respects… on behalf of my father and all. So, anyway… I, um, brought you a small gift. It's… um, a family heirloom, and we'd be h-honored if you'd wear it tonight."
She slowly maneuvered herself to the side of the chair. The sorceress wore the same crimson bird-shaped mask she'd had on in the TV station's dressing room. Rinoa carefully lowered the bangle down to her slender arm, entirely covered by the sleeves of her dark violet, skin-tight dress.
"Please, allow me-"
She'd barely gotten the words out when she was knocked off her feet by a sudden invisible blow. The bracelet fell from her grasp as she flew backwards, slamming into the left-hand wall. The impact knocked every breath of anxiously withheld air from her lungs. She let out a cry, helpless as she lay entangled in the white drapery. In her disorientation, she felt her mind descend into a haze. The room around her swirled into a thick, nigh impenetrable fog. A sharp stinging bored into her head as an eerie silhouette of a woman's face suddenly came into focus before her eyes.
[Do you think me a fool, little girl?]
The chilling sneer shot through her head not by way of her ears, but a strange form of telepathy. She strained her mouth to respond. Her jaw did not comply. Neither did her arms or legs; she had lost all control of her anatomy.
[How pathetic. That you would think me so naive as to willingly accept that cursed trinket. I cannot allow such treachery to go unpunished. But alas, the moment I have long awaited, the night to be written of in legend is finally upon us. And perhaps before you die, you shall make for fine stage dressing in my hour of triumph. Come.]
Her body no longer operating of her own will, Rinoa sluggishly rose to her feet, untangled herself from the curtains, and stumbled to the sorceress' side as commanded.
"I will not stand to be intimidated by these cowardly attempts on my life," Deling declared from the podium high above. "Rest assured, my resolve to usher this nation onward towards a brighter future has never been stronger. And with it, my confidence in the alliance we have forged with our esteemed guest of honor grows stronger still."
The crowd's cheers had been underwhelming thus far. Squall stood beside Irvine in silence among them all, waiting for the sorceress to make her appearance. Per Caraway's earlier briefing, the security forces would begin marshaling the pedestrians out of the street once she'd finished her own address. The resulting bustle would allow them to make their way along the crowd's left side to the extraction point. He'd become increasingly antsy as he continued to wait, the pressure mounting ever more as the clock ticked on. At nearly quarter past 1900, the general's assurance that the float would pass back under the gate at 2000 was becoming increasingly more difficult to believe.
Well, it shouldn't be a problem as long as it's not any earlier.
"The mysterious, magical gift of the sorceress is a power we have sought to make our own for many years now," Deling spoke. "It has been a long and winding journey, rife with monumental setbacks. And so, citizens of Deling City, and all those watching around the globe, it is my utmost honor to present to you our newest and most cherished ally, by whose blessing we shall lead Galbadia into a new era of prosperity upon the world stage. Please welcome, Sorceress Edea!"
The president stepped to the side of the podium. The crowd remained tepid, many disconcertingly murmuring to one another. Squall kept his eyes trained to the nearest display screen. He exhaled deeply to calm his nerves. Seconds later, the familiar slender figure stepped into the camera's frame. An elegant golden back-piece was secured to her tight, form-fitting attire. The same bird's-head mask concealed her face as she strode up to the podium, the peoples' unsettled buzzing instantly doubling in volume.
Now bathed in the spotlight's glare, Squall could make out the various articles adorning her headpiece: three fiendish curved horns to the left; a silver comb-like fixture with dangling beads to the right; a pair of circular earpieces with non-matching jeweled earrings; and a spiral sea shell fixed above her left ear. It was beyond any doubt the most bizarre fashion statement he'd ever seen; aside from the earpieces, it all appeared to have been arranged with no regard for symmetry whatsoever. Surrealism seemed to be its intent, with a touch of theatricality via the mask. She gingerly raised her right hand before her face, taking her time as if to savor the rising unease. She clasped the mask, and slowly drew it down inch by inch to reveal herself.
Squall sucked in another breath reflexively, as did the rest of the crowd in apparent shock. Her face perfectly complimented her eerie regalia; the unnatural yellow glow of her eyes stood out fiercely from the violet eyeshadow and lip gloss. He couldn't begin to guess at her age. While her pallid features' relative fairness implied that she couldn't be older than her early to mid 40's, an intertwining network of veins spreading along her cheeks gave her a far older, more sickly appearance.
"I don't fuckin' believe it."
He turned to Irvine. The sharpshooter stood motionless at his shoulder, mouth agape and eyes wide in awe. He was far from the only one among them. It truly was a sight seemingly plucked from a bad dream, and perhaps even one of Squall's own; the otherworldly glow of her eyes unnerved him to the core. He shifted his gaze to the podium proper to be sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. As he did so, he noticed a streak of blue shuffle into place at her side opposite Deling. He glanced back to the display screen, and promptly felt his own jaw drop. Rinoa stumbled drunkenly to the fore of the platform, her eyes glazed over.
"What the hell is she doing up there?!" he frantically hissed to Irvine.
"Yer askin' the wrong guy!" the sniper replied. "She don't look like she's all there, either!"
That idiot! Please tell me she hasn't completely ruined our plan…
As he silently prayed, the sorceress raised her gloved left hand high above. A faint aura rapidly clustered within her palm, the dark energy lapping at her fingers as it intensified. Squall preemptively reached down to activate his GF sphere on his belt; whatever sort of spell it was, he would be ready to counter it should the need arise. The onlookers below gasped in amazement at the incantation. The next moment, a shock-wave erupted from her grasp. It sped through the air, passing over the heads of the gathered masses.
Instantly, a sharp pain shot through Squall's mind. He fell to one knee with the rest of the crowd as a deafening cry of anguish rang out all around. His eyes began to cloud. A thick veil of darkness blotted out all before him. He could feel his consciousness begin to twist and malform under the strain of the spell. He swore he could even hear the whispering of a thousand wicked voices in the deepest recess of his mind, tempting him to give in.
Fighting as hard as he could, he compulsively began to channel his GF's energy. He visualized the flames, willing the energy to gather in his mental faculties. Before long, the familiar rush took hold of him. The fog began to dissipate, shrinking back into the corners of his vision before disappearing beyond the periphery.
Not wasting a moment, he spun to the kneeling Irvine and snatched him by the scruff of his neck. He rapidly pumped the raw, unrefined energy through his palm, the sheer amount he was expending leading him to fear he might inadvertently summon his fire demon. It engulfed the sharpshooter's body, washing over him in a shimmering shroud. The citizens all around them looked to be faring no better. Some remained doubled over, while others had risen to their feet, standing motionless amid the chaos. Eventually, Irvine's labored breathing subsided. Squall disengaged the stream of energy as he rose to his feet, and removed his hand from the back of his neck.
"Th-thanks," he stammered, fighting to catch his breath.
"Whatever," Squall downplayed it.
His response, however softly spoken, was remarkably audible. The square, consumed by panic mere moments ago, had fallen quiet. The townspeople all around had returned to their feet. There was no anxious muttering, nor cries of terror. All looked to their attacker up on the podium in uniform stillness. The silence was at last broken as the sorceress cleared her throat before the microphone.
"Well?!" she finally spoke. Her harsh, accusatory tone boomed over the loudspeakers. "Is this not the fated night of terror I have so long awaited?! Show me my due respect, you shameless, filthy wretches!"
On command, the entire audience erupted into a cheer far louder than any Deling had received. Squall covered his ears. The people's minds were no longer their own, Rinoa having doubtless fallen victim to the same mental probing. Only Deling, still smirking by Edea's side, appeared unaffected.
"Ah, what sweet irony," she continued with amusement. "How you celebrate my ascension with such joy, hailing the very one you have condemned for generations! Marionettes tied to my will though you may be."
"This can't be real!" Irvine gaped in awe. "Tell me I'm not seein' this shit!"
"But then, who have been the ones disgraced and mocked before the world? Who have for so long been puppeteered about as caricatures for your own sick amusement? Since time immemorial, we sorceresses have lived bound to the illusion propagated by man, to a foolish fantasy born out of fear and loathing. How you have adorned us in these dreadful costumes, to be vilified and scorned for the most heinous charges. The terrible witches who set ablaze your green fields, who callously freeze your warm homes, who curse such virtuous humans as yourselves by means of cruel rituals. And yet now, as one such wicked woman stands before you, as an ally to Galbadia, you have the gall to sigh in relief? Such disgusting hypocrisy! Have you no shame?"
The people below continued to hoop and holler wildly, rendered incapable of understanding her scathing words. A chill ran down Squall's spine. He stood at the very epicenter of history in the making, left to hold on for dear life as the world came crumbling down around him.
"Such a pity. How unfortunate that you would let yourselves be wrapped up in such fantastical daydreaming. For I stand before you tonight not as an ally, but your new ruler! A new era has just begun."
"E-Edea?" Deling's voice came in over the sound system. He gently approached her from the side of the podium. "Are you feeling alright? Ede-"
Her left arm shot out in a flash, seizing hold of the president's undershirt through his suit jacket. Lightning exploded from her grasp the next moment. Sparks flew wildly from Deling's violently jerking figure, lighting up the night. The microphone picked up the portly man's tortured sputtering as he was electrocuted before the entire world. As if on cue, the video feed on the two display screens suddenly cut to static. That the broadcast control team hadn't seen fit to do so as soon as she'd begun attacking the crowd was the least of Squall's worries now.
The lightning finally fizzled out, leaving Deling's smoking corpse held upright in one hand, his dangling limbs still twitching from the current. Even from afar, Squall could tell his skin had been charred almost completely black.
"Reality is not at all kind," Edea menaced. "It is a cruel, unfeeling mistress, and one which every man, woman, and child must face on their own! Such is the truth of the world, no matter how desperately you cling to your fantasies. No one can help you. So, just sit back and enjoy the show."
She ruthlessly flung Deling off the front of the Presidential Residence. The mindless cheering continued as his body plummeted from the roof, and disappeared behind the main gate.
"Rest assured, you fools, your time will come. This is only the beginning. Let us start a new reign of terror, and together, we shall forge the final fantasy, a world beyond the imagination of any mere mortal!"
Squall was too taken aback to even feign understanding. Edea smirked in contentment, adoring the admiration of her captive audience, before making a sidelong glance to Rinoa, still swaying unsteadily at her side.
"Let us end this ceremony with a sacrifice."
She raised both of her arms out over the podium. Squall braced himself for another spell as a glowing light began to gather in each palm. Two beams of energy promptly loosed themselves, soaring harmlessly over the crowd. He spun around to see them impact at the apex of the Iguion Gate. His heart sunk even further into his stomach; had she indeed learned of the plot from Rinoa, and somehow uncovered the gateway team's position?
Rather than obliterating the arch, the beams remained stationary, focused on a pair of the numerous gargoyles sculpted across it. The two in question looked to resemble large lizard creatures, their claws perpetually embedded into the architecture. And then, in what at first seemed to be a trick of the light as the beams dissipated, they began moving. They turned to clamber their way down the arch, and dropped into the street atop a cluster of bystanders.
The monsters charged ahead through the crowd. Despite their brainwashing, most appeared to have still retained their self-preservation instinct, and leapt out of the way. As they drew near, Squall could tell for a fact that the lizards were no longer stone. They tore past to reach the gateway, and leapt high over the spiked iron barrier.
Above, a swirling black mist had engulfed Edea, just as in Timber. She disappeared into the void just as quickly. Rinoa stumbled in place, clutching her head in her hands. After a moment, she raised her head back up, and darted her eyes every which way; evidently, she had regained control of herself. The lizards scaled the building swiftly, and were upon her in seconds.
"Rinoa!" Irvine shouted in dismay. "We gotta get up there, now!"
"You think I don't know that?!" Squall snapped, feeling as though his heart might burst from the sheer adrenaline. "But we can't do anything until the gates open!"
"We don't got time fer that, dammit! This fuckin' sucks! Ain't there any other way in?!"
"Even if there were, what good would we be without our weapons?!"
Squall knew he could clear the front gates via the wind-leap technique if need be. Besides requiring all his of strength to do so while carrying Irvine over however, the two would be left without their weapons in lieu of forsaking their assigned transport. There would be no hope for victory should they be forced into battle with the sorceress before the parade had gotten underway. Blasting their way in with the power of his fire demon was also out of the question; doing so would be bound to draw the sorceress' attention, to speak nothing of potentially causing yet more civilian casualties.
"Let's just get moving!" he commanded, barreling his way through the horde of mindless drones. "There's nothing we can do but stick to the plan, and hope she's quick enough on her feet."
"You've gotta be jokin'!" Irvine snapped from behind. "Yer jus' gonna leave her up there to fend fer herself?! That ain't right!"
But it's what's best.
"We're going to save her! But this is bigger than any one of us. We need to keep our focus on the mission. The entire world is depending on us!"
He had no intention of leaving Rinoa to die if he could help it. And yet, would rushing in to save her be worth compromising the operation? Did ensuring the safety of one person take priority over his sworn duty, by which they would no doubt save the lives of millions? The answer was a resounding no. Such was the hopeless scenario he'd been presented with. Should he allow his emotions to control his judgment, as Seifer had, he would certainly meet the same fate as his rival, and doom the world to Edea's conquest.
Why am I even getting so worked up about her? It's such a simple choice. She's been nothing but a nuisance since Timber. She got herself into this mess, against her father's wishes, and now she's going to pay the price. The world is cruel, and everyone faces it-
He ground to a halt as they reached their extraction point. So too did his train of thought; hadn't Edea just said the very same thing? It shook him to consider that one so despicable could share the very same philosophy he'd always lived by. Had his life spent in solitude set him on such a path as well? Was he destined to one day become the same as her?
No… good and evil aren't what separate us. It's our perspectives, our experiences that define who we are. But… how could something like this be anything but evil?
The patrol car screeched to a stop beside them. He snatched hold of the rear door handle, and swung it open. His gunblade and Irvine's shotgun stood propped up against the rear of the driver's seat, their ammunition reserves and his medical supply pouch slung over top. Squall practically leapt inside. He slid over to the other end of the carriage, and drew his sword into his lap. Irvine followed him in, slamming the door behind.
"I can't believe she actually killed him!" the soldier in the passenger seat exclaimed. "No one 'round the barracks trusted her for a second, and we were right!"
"He thought he could play with fire, without having any idea how to control it," Squall said. He passed his teammate his weapon and bullet belt. "What's done is done. Get us in there the instant those gates open."
"It's gonna be a free-for-all," the driver responded. "The paramedic detachments are en route. Soon as that float clears the entrance, it'll be a clusterfuck."
"Then make sure we're the first ones through, whatever it takes!"
Squall opened the gunblade's cylinder, reached into his ammunition compartment, and filled the empty chambers. He spun it back into place, and attached the reserve to his belt beside his medical supplies. The blade itself went on his left side. His heart pounded in his ears. His vision narrowed as the nervous energy threatened to overtake him. Time cruelly ticked on, Rinoa's demise becoming all the more likely with each passing second, were she not already dead.
Just let her be alive… she's still my client.
"Hold on tight!" the driver shouted.
He shifted into gear, and tore off with a monstrous rev of the engine. Squall clutched the headrest, pulling himself forward to look through the windshield. Flashing red emergency lights approached from the other end of the square ahead. Closer still, a uniformed brass ensemble marched out from the gateway. A troupe of dancers in gaudy attire like Edea's own followed, swaying hypnotically to the tune. The massive golden float emerged behind, illuminated by the twin sconces at its fore. The sorceress was seated on the throne at its rear.
A second figure stood at the front, tall and bedecked in a long grey jacket. A pang of familiarity struck Squall as the patrol car drew ever closer; the wardrobe and short head of blonde hair were too similar not to pique his curiosity. His suspicion turned to shock as the man raised his right arm to the skies above; he held aloft an ebony blade, grasped in a manner befitting a pistol.
No way…
A dead man stood proudly on the sorceress' parade float. He smirked contentedly to brainwashed masses below, all feebly stumbling out of the way. Squall's jaw dropped. He was nearly thrown off balance as the patrol car abruptly pivoted, aimed directly for the widening gap between the float's rear and the gate's outer edge. Though he could no longer see him through the windshield, the image remained clear as day in his mind's eye. Seifer was alive, and under the sorceress' command.
"Holy shit!" Zell cried out as the two lizard creatures cleared the Presidential Residence's gates.
Quistis stood by his side in abject horror, staring out the window to the rooftop podium in the distance. The sorceress had vanished into her dark cloud of mist before the reptiles could scale the estate. The first reached the top, and lunged right for the disoriented Rinoa.
"She's in trouble!" Selphie shrilled. "What are we gonna do?!"
"Nothing," Quistis sighed. She turned away from the ensuing tragedy in pity. "There's nothing we can do."
"The hell there isn't!" Zell roared. He spun around, and bolted for the ladder. "I'm going in!"
"Stop!"
Zell complied in mid-motion; he'd been so quick, he'd already begun maneuvering his legs over the edge.
"Don't just go rushing out there! You don't even have a way of getting inside, much less saving her in time."
"I'll blow the damn gates down if I have to!" he shouted back. "Whatever it takes! I'm not just gonna sit around up here and watch her get mauled! I'd never be able to live with myself!"
"Even if you do somehow get inside, she'll be dead long before then. All you'd be doing is giving away our presence, and destroying any hope of the mission's success. Which might be down to us three at this point. Chances are Squall and Irvine were hypnotized with the rest of the crowd. If they can't make it into position, we're the ones who'll have to do the job. You've seen what she's capable of. It's going to take all our strength to have even the slightest chance of defeating her. I'm telling you, going off on your own will just make things worse for all of us."
Zell stayed clinging to the ladder with his head bowed. Despite her blunt delivery, Quistis was not without sympathy.
"I'm sorry, Zell. But it's times like these when you have to accept the cold, hard truth. It's part and parcel of being a SeeD. She got herself involved in this mess, even after her father and I told her over and over to stay out of it. Now she's backed herself into a corner, and there's no one around to save her. It's just like that vile woman said: 'reality isn't kind'."
The words pained her to acknowledge; they were exactly the sort she would usually expect to hear from Squall. Zell raised his head slowly, meeting her eyes with an unmistakable look of disappointment. Begrudgingly, he hoisted himself back up.
"Understood… Operative Trepe."
He shuffled his way into the far corner by the gate controls, seating himself on the floor. Quistis turned back to Selphie by the window, the girl's own eyes downcast. The brainwashed masses below dispersed to either side of the street. Further in the distance, the residence's front gate parted, giving way to a full marching band. They were followed by a troupe of masked dancers, and finally a golden parade float. The sorceress sat on its throne, no doubt satisfied with the festival of fear she'd orchestrated.
First had been the all-encompassing hypnosis spell; their position so high up above was likely what had spared the three of them from the same fate. Then had come the president's brutal public execution. And finally, the animation of the life-sized lizard statues, now thrusting their bodies one after the other against the rooftop's closed double doors. The two broke through within moments and charged inside. That she would not be forced to witness Rinoa's fate with her own eyes was Quistis' only comfort.
A throng of patrol and paramedic vehicles swarmed the front gates from either side of the intersection. Meanwhile, the procession continued along their pre-planned route on the main street. Quistis peered down on the parade float from on high. Her vision shifted from the sorceress at the rear, to a lone swordsman in grey standing at the front. She blinked her eyes in disbelief upon noticing the weapon in his hand.
"Seifer?!" she blurted out, fixing her hands to the windowsill to keep from falling over.
"What about him?" Selphie asked. She peered down herself, and immediately gasped. "No way! It is him!"
"Say what?!" Zell snapped to attention.
He bolted back over to the window, taking his place at Quistis' left. As the motorcade drew closer, the head of short blonde hair became more pronounced, as did the gunblade in his hand.
"That damn double-crosser! And to think, I actually felt sorry for him!"
"He's probably been brainwashed like the rest!" Quistis reminded him.
"So, if we're really going to confront her head on, does that mean… we have to go through him first?" Selphie shakily muttered.
"It changes nothing," Quistis declared. "It just means that now, more than ever, we have to make sure this ends tonight. Zell, head on down and take point by the door. Selphie, keep an eye on the clock. I'll man the gate controls. We spring the trap when the float comes back around. If there's no rifle shot, we charge. It might not be much of a plan, but it's all we have. For Rinoa's sake… no, for the sake of the world, we must not fail."