Foreshadow Chapter 4
Moving Pieces
By Peptuck3
Author's
note: As I've reread this story, I've noticed a few minor problems. One,
namely, happens to be a lack of development of the heroes from FFVIII. I
didn't notice this until just recently, and I apologize if none of the other
characters got built up or were even prominiently featured, but the way the
first few chapters are laid out made that necassary. Don't worry, though,
the other FFVIII characters will get their due spots in the next
chapters!
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Foreshadow Chapter 4: Moving
Pieces
Polz walked down the hallway,
his eyes open for his leader. Here, in this place, in the bowels of Esthar,
was where Illarra had set up her current base of operations. And as with
every other base, Illarra had reserved a specific area for herself, including
a bedroom, study, and training area. It was the latter that Polz found Illarra
in. The martial artist stepped through the door into the darkened
room.
Glowing red orbs, dozens
of them, flew throughout the center of th room, some moving horizontally,
others vertically, yet more moving in semicircles or whole circles, and some
just zipping about randomly, all at blinding speeds. Despite their movements,
each of the orbs was contained within a small area, about twenty feet in
diameter, inside the projection zone of the holographic projectors that generated
each orb.
The projector and the orbs
were all part of a common and popular training program for melee and ranged
fighters in Esthar. The objective was to hit each orb with as few strikes
as possible in the shortest time possible. The simulations ranged from only
a few, slow-moving orbs at the easiest levels, to this, dozens of orbs moving
in a chaotic, high-speed jumble, nearly impossible for any but the best of
fighters to
navigate.
Polz leaned back on the doorjamb
and watched as Illarra, who stood on the far side of the orb training program,
drew her daggars and tensed her
muscles.
And then, the purple-haired
woman dove
in.
Immediately, four of the
orbs flashed blue and stopped in place, indicating hits. Each blue flash
was accompanied by a blur of purple from Illarra's daggars as they whirled
and struck, moving with fluid
grace.
Polz grinned as he watched
the beautiful dance. Seven more orbs flashed blue as Illarra stepped into
a spin, her daggers twirling in a violet (and violent!) whirlwind, rising
and falling. Illarra was as fast and deadly as she was beautiful and alluring.
Polz knew these for facts; Illarra's quickness and agility were useful for
more than just combat, after all . .
.
Daggars crossed, struck out
wide, thrust forward, and then twirled as Illarra swept into another spin,
taking a dozen more red orbs. Over half the whirling, spinning, and chaotic
red jumble now stood still, blue and pacified, and Illarra's momentum was
only
building.
Slice. Thrust. Cross. Spin.
Slash. Illarra tore through the remaining orbs, a constant blue flashing
following her purple daggars, a trail of blue, like a swath of destruction,
following the woman. A daggar shot out to the left, another thrust to the
right, then Illarra reversed her grip, thrusting out behind her while the
left daggar rose into an overhead slash, the series of strikes taking five
orbs. Illarra thrust again, sliced, then spun around, striking the last four
orbs in a dazzling, spiraling, spinning series of cuts. She continued the
spin, turning it into a somersault that placed her outside the training circle.
The daggars spun like the six- shooters of some gunslinger from old Galbadian
cowboy movies before Illarra somehow replaced them in their wrist
sheaths.
The purple-haired woman turned
to face Polz as he
clapped.
"A fine show," Polz said,
smiling. Illarra grinned at her subordinate's compliment, then fixed her
gray eyes on
him.
"News?" she asked, understanding
that Polz did not enter Illarra's training room while the woman was practicing
unless he had something to say. Polz's grin faded, and the martial artist
straightened.
"Grask is dead," he said.
Illarra's eyes widened slightly in mild surprise. Then she
smirked.
"Let me guess," Ilarra asked.
"The fool was killed trying to beat a Mesmerize
bare-handed?"
"No, actually," Polz said,
smiling at the thought. Grask probably would try to take down a Mesmerize
bare-handed just to prove how good he was. "The Galbadians caught wind of
scouts around the base. They chased them down only to be led into an ambush.
Lost nearly the whole pursuit force, and the base was leveled by an air strike.
The Galbadians gave themselves
away."
"Of course they did," Illarra
growled with a shake of her head. "Idiotic
Galbadians."
"I thought that was the exact
reason we were dealing with them," Polz remarked, inciting a laugh from his
boss.
"So, who was it?" Illarra
asked. "Who took down the mighty Grask and the geniuses of the Galbadian
army?"
"SeeD."
Illarra stood straight, her
eyes and expression suddenly very, very
serious.
"SeeD?"
"Indeed," Polz confirmed.
"Led by the legendary Squall Leonhart
himself."
The martial artist knew that
name would incite quite the ire in Illarra, and Polz was certainly not
dissappointed.
"Leonhart!" Illarra hissed.
Fire erupted in her eyes, a look of hatred and contempt present in her face
and gaze. The woman spun around, looking for an appropriate target. She spotted
a chair about fifteen feet away. Her hands flicked towards it, and fire erupted
from Illarra's palms. The unlucky chair exploded, chunks scattered to the
room's four corners. Polz's boss spun back to him, her anger not entirely
vented, and the martial artist wisely backed away. Illarra roared, and a
bolt of lightning sizzled forth from her hands, striking the ground in front
of Polz and throwing up more
chunks.
Behind Illarra, the blue
orbs of the training program
disappeared.
"It seems you've cut the
power," Polz remarked dryly, nodding at the projector. Illarra glanced that
way, and let out a laugh. She turned back to Polz, and her eyes steeled
over.
"Leonhart . . ." Illarra
hissed again, hatred evident in her eyes. "I'm going to savor the moment
I wipe his name from the face of the
earth."
"And of course, that moment
will be soon," Polz responded, a smile appearing on his face. "Our Galbadian
friends, despite their incompetence, were able to recover the technology
they were after in Trabia. Even now, Veers' scientists are reverse-engineering
the technology. And our own people are ahead of schedule in their operations.
When the time is
right-"
"-Garden, Esthar, and the
whole world will be ours." Illarra finished with a wide smile. She stepped
out into the hallway past Polz, and then glanced down towards her room. She
turned back to Polz, gesturing towards her room with a nod of the head. Polz
only grinned. Talking about power, and the forthcoming aquisition thereof,
had always been an aphrodisiac for the both of
them.
* * * *
*
Random bits of junk cluttered
the floor of the workshop as the tall man stepped across the room. Electronic
components, wires, and spare parts seemed to make up a metallic carpet in
this small workshop on the southwestern edge of Fisherman's
Horizon.
And in the center of it all,
the tall man found the mechanic who owned the shop, fiddling with some circuitry
that would go into the machine next to him, a humanoid assemblage of parts
and wires, complete with complex joints and mechanisms in the face, hands,
hips, and feet. Many of the components that made up the machine looked far
more advanced than those the tall man had seen in the western nations. In
fact, some seemed almost like elastic metal, obviously of Estharian make,
then.
"Ah, yes," the mechanic said
then, as he looked up at the tall figure in his shop. "Yes, you are right
on time."
"I thought you said it would
be finished when I arrived," the tall man muttered. "There isn't even any
skin on this one
yet."
"Not yet, not yet, but soon,"
the mechanic responded, using a delicate instrument of some kind on the circuits.
"Ah, yes, finished!" the mechanic said, seeming quite excited. After all,
he hadn't gotten the chance to construct a cyborg quite like this one in
years.
The mechanic opened a small
panel on the side of the cyborg's head and inserted the
circuitry.
"Now, I just need to finish
the programming and the outer skin . .
."
"And how long will that take?"
the tall man
demanded.
"An hour, perhaps two. I
already have the basic humanlike programming, I just need to upload the
information on its targets. You have arranged transport,
yes?"
"A friend has a boat standing
by for when you finish the cyborg." The tall man gave the mechanic the location
of the boat dock, and then fished a hand into his long coat pocket and took
out an envelope. "Two hundered thousand gil, as you asked for your
services."
"Ahhh," the greedy mechanic
said, taking the envelope. "Thank
you."
With that, the tall man turned
to leave, but stopped, remembering something he wanted to make certian of.
"The explosives . . . they are ready, aren't
they?"
"Yes," the mechanic replied
with a wide grin. "They've already been installed and are set. As soon as
I finish the targeting programming . .
."
The tall man smiled as well,
and then
left.
Things were shaping up
perfectly.
* * * *
*
Silence lived up to his alias
as he slipped past the drowsy, machinegun-toting guard without ever making
him even slightly suspicious to the fact that a very, very dangerous person
was but a few feet
away.
The guard stood in the shadows
of an alleyway close to ground level in the midst of Esthar's city. Beyond
the guard, Silence knew, was a storage hangar for Illarra's transportation
craft, and more information about the dangerous
group.
Silence mentally thanked
Mache for giving him this information, even if it had been with the threat
of a snapped neck hanging over his
head.
The infiltrator advanced
down the alley to the main entrance, and obviously, the thing was locked,
with a pair of guards out front, not including more who were certainly within,
and not counting any mechanical security measures that were
installed.
Silence wisely avoided the
door, instead scanning for a possibly more discreet entrance, which he found
while looking up around the door. About ten feet above the ground, Silence
noticed a balcony with a doorway leading inside the building and a retractable
elastic metal staircase, obviously a fire escape of some sort. A single guard,
holding a rifle and smoking a cigarette, stood there, looking as bored and
un-alert as the man at the entrance of the
alleyway.
The infiltrator examiened
the balcony and its height from the ground, and judged the distance he'd
have to cover. Too high for a single leap, but if he could kick off the alley
walls . .
.
Silence surveyed the alleyway,
and after determining the distances, moved underneath the balcony. The
infiltrator took a breath, and ran towards the opposite wall. Halfway across,
Silence leaped, turning his left side towards the wall. His left leg curled
up, and as the infiltrator's legs met the wall, he kicked off, flying up
and back across the alley the way he'd come. Silence still couldn't reach
the balcony at that height, but he hadn't planned to, instead hitting the
wall about four feet below the balcony, ducking his head so he wouldn't smash
it against the balcony's underside. Upon colliding with this wall, Silence
again kicked off it, flying up and out. This time, he reached up and grabbed
the railing of the balcony and used his momentum to spin is body up and over
the balcony. As the infiltrator came up, his left leg rose and swung around,
Silence putting a boot to the head of the surprised guard. The man's expresson
was quite amusing just before he was sent flying away to
unconciousness.
The man slumped, out cold,
and Silence stepped past his prone body into the
building.
* * * *
*
Squall finished delivering
his report to Cid and Quistis, then waited for their
response.
"You're sure?" Cid asked
a moment later, after digesting what Squall had told
them.
"Yes. Grask was definately
trained by Garden. I haven't seen anyone with that level of weapons skill
in the Galbadian army before. Only a SeeD, a qualifying SeeD cadet, or a
Master in the Weapons Guild has that level of combat skills, and I'm positive
Grask wasn't a Weapons
Master."
Cid and Quistis considered
this for a
moment.
"Several of the weapons
instructors at Galbadia Garden have quit," Quistis remarked. "They could
have easily contracted out to Galbadia." Even as she was saying this, Cid
was shaking his
head.
"Its only been a few months
since Galbadia Garden was taken over by the Galbadian military," the headmaster
remarked. "Even if an instructor turned to Galbadia immediately after the
incident, I don't think they could train any regular Galbadian soldiers up
to Grask's reported level of skill in such a short period of time." Squall
nodded in
agreement.
"That level of skill would
take years of practice," Squall said with all
certianty.
"Which means," Cid continued,
"That either Grask was a Galbadia Garden student or SeeD who quit after the
takeover, or he came from Balamb
Garden."
"There never were any students
named Grask here," Quistis said, with a shake of her head that gave an air
of finality. "And I don't recall hearing about a Grask while I was recieving
my Instructor's license at Galbadia
Garden."
"And he didn't come from
Trabia," Squall added. "We all know Trabia Garden specializes in magic and
magical theory, but Grask seemed focused on physical
combat."
Cid nodded, and Squall caught
something in his expression. The SeeD noted the lines of stress on his face
had deepened
slightly.
"Sir?" Squall asked. "Something
wrong?"
"No," Cid replied quickly.
"I'm just thinking. We'll have to look into this while Garden is docked at
FH. I know someone who could get us some useful information, an old friend
of mine."
As Cid was speaking, the
door into his office slid open. The headmaster and the two senior SeeDs turned
to see a huge, bearded man clad in the uniform of a Galbadian SeeD step into
the room, a heavy duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a sheathed greatsword
on his back. The man set the duffel bag down and snapped off a quick and
very precise Garden salute before standing at
attention.
"Gerrard Kerrer," Cid said
with a smile at the SeeD. "At ease, Kerrer." The large man relaxed. "I'd
like you to meet two of my senior staff. This," Cid gestured to Quistis,
"is Quistis Trepe, head of instruction and our student body. And this," Cid
gestured to Squall, " is Commander Squall Leonhart, head of
SeeD."
Gerrard nodded deferentially
to Quistis, then turned to Squall. The SeeD commander caught some slight
change in Gerrard's demeanor as the Galbadian turned to face him. Squall
couldn't exactly place what it was, but Gerrard seemed slightly more tense
as he faced
Squall.
"Commander Leonhart," he
said, his deep voice booming. "I've been wanting to see the legendary SeeD
himself. It is an honor to meet
you."
Squall only nodded in
reply.
"You've arrived somewhat
early," Cid remarked to Gerrard, who nodded. "We were expecting to meet you
in FH."
"I changed my original
destination from Fisherman's Horizon," Gerrard explained. "I instead took
a transport to Balamb, hoping to catch you there early, but when I missed
the departure of Garden, I had a Garden vessel from the docks in Balamb take
me south until I arrived
here."
"I see," Cid said with a
nod of understanding. "Well, I suppose you will need to meet with the staff
and students here before you assume the mantle of Lieutenant Commander. I'll
call up a guide for you, if you want
one."
"Of course, Headmaster,"
Gerrard
replied.
"And just call me Cid, Gerrard,"
the headmaster added. "Balamb is more relaxed than Galbadia Garden, we don't
use titles around here as much as we did when NORG was running
things."
"Yes sir,
Headmaster."
Squall caught the slightly
annoyed look on Cid's face at Gerrard's words, and couldn't say he disagreed
with the headmaster. Gerrard, it seemed, would take quite a while before
he adjusted to Balamb
Garden.
* * * *
*
The sound of two men chatting
greeted Silence as he turned a corner. Both of the men were walking down
the hallway towards the infiltrator, firearms slung over their shoulders.
The hallway was almost pitch-black here, so Silence was practically invisible
to the guards, but the corridor was too narrow. Even if he his body against
the wall, one of the men would very likely brush against him, which would
be a bad
thing.
But Silence couldn't go back,
the hallway behind him was well-lit and he'd get spotted
instantly.
"Can't go back," he thought,
"can't go forward, sides are no good, certianly can't go down, so that leaves
. . ."
Silence went up, a great
leap that took him high up in the air. The infiltrator ducked his head to
avoid dashing it on the ceiling, and tucked his legs under him. At the apex
of the jump, seven feet above the floor, those legs spread out, bracing against
the
wall.
Silence had perfectly executed
the split-jump, and was now positioned barely a foot over the two men, who
had never even heard him jump, had never even seen him make the leap five
feet in front of
them.
And, as all the luck in the
world would have it, the two men stopped, right beneath Silence, and chatted.
The infiltrator cursed mentally as he felt his legs burn from the
exertion.
"You're sure?" asked one
of the two
men.
"Yep," replied the second,
leaning against the wall, the top of his head inches below one of Silence's
boots.
"But, if that's
true-"
"Illarra will want to know.
You know how much she wants any Sorceress power she can
aquire!"
Silence was suddenly very,
very
interested.
"But if the reports are true,
then that means . .
."
"Extensive Sorceress power
from multiple powerful Sorceresses collected into one being, this girl."
The speaker smiled. "An easy
target."
"But, she's inside Garden!
I don't want to tangle with an army of SeeDs, even with our own
junctions!"
"We have no choice. You want
to piss off
Illarra?"
"No . . . but fighting SeeD,
Leonhart, and this trumped-up Sorceress is not what I signed on
for!"
"But what can you do? Illarra
will kill us if we refuse, or at the very least give us some painful reminders
of who our loyalty is towards. We've got no choice. I just hope she's only
going to take a small group in, and not fight SeeD
openly."
"Yeah, she's likely to avoid
open combat, its just too risky right now. Especially since Garden's one
of the targets in the final
plan."
"Exactly. In a matter of
months, the whole of the west will be ours. Then we can take the fight to
Esthar!"
The other guard nodded
emphatically.
"Yeah! I'd love to pay those
EBI bastards back for what they did to us three years
ago."
"Me too. That reminds me
. . . you did wipe all the hard drives, didn't
you?"
"Most of them, yes. The others
I just shot up." The guard held up his gun with a big grin. Silence tried
to ignore the fact that the barrel was pointed between his legs. "I'm not
too worried about the EBI finding anything useful from mere data
fragments."
"Good. Illarra wants us out
of here in a few more hours and out of Esthar within two
days."
"All of us? Are we going
to Galbadia with the
others?"
"Perhaps. Illarra didn't
say. We'll find out when we get there, I suppose. All I know is, the whole
organization is pulling out and putting up stakes in the
west."
"As per the
plan?"
"Yep . . . Come on, I still
need to do the drives in the hangar office. Want to
help?"
"Heh. Why not? As long as
I get to shoot the hard
drives!"
And with that, the two moved
off around the corner, leaving Silence with some answers, but many, many
more
questions.
Then he knew he had to get
to those hard drives before those men did. A slight shift in the positions
of his legs sent Silence down to the floor, and then he was gone, moving
after the two guards like a wraith in the
shadows.
* * * *
*
"So, what do you think of
him?" Cid asked Squall after Gerrard had left, Quistis volunteering to guide
him around the
Garden.
Squall shook his head, signaling
uncertianty.
"He seems competent," Squall
began. "I don't doubt his skills, and I think he'll be good for commanding
Balamb's security, but . .
."
"But?"
"I'm not sure, something
about him bothers me," Squall added. "When he knew who I was . .
."
"I saw it," Cid replied,
nodding. "He tensed up as he realized who you were. Quite natural for most
military personnel when they encounter a superior, so it shouldn't come as
any surprise, seeing as how Gerrard hails from Galbadia Garden." Squall nodded
in agreement at Cid's reasoning, but still, somehow Gerrard bothered
him.
Maybe it was their similarities.
Admittedly, Gerrard and Squall were hardly alike physically. Aside from their
hair color, the two were physically far apart. No, it was their demeanors,
Gerrard being extremely disciplined and efficient, much like Squall had been
a few short months ago. Gerrard seemed to be a mirror image of what Squall
would have been at Galbadia Garden. The commander had no doubt he would have
been exactly like Gerrard if he had attended that particular Garden, so it
seemed no wonder that the Galbadian SeeD would be considered his counterpart
there.
Nodding inwardly at his
conclusions, Squall looked back up at Cid, who was checking his
watch.
"Its 19:00, Commander. Only
two hours until the party. We should all get ready." With that, Cid rose
from his desk. Squall joined him. "Well, I'll see you there," Cid said with
one of is smiles. "Maybe this time you'll actually socialize instead of locating
a nice wall to lean on." Squall nodded, then turned and left, headed for
the dorms.
* * * *
*
"And down that hallway are
the dorms," Quistis said, pointing down the wide hallway as she and Gerrard
passed. "Its much like in Galbadia Garden, with seperate facilities for SeeDs
and students, and also areas for Instructors and
staff."
"And non-Garden personnel?"
Gerrard asked. Quistis glanced back at him, not understanding. "Civilians,"
Gerrard clarified. "Maintenence crew, kitchen staff, janitors . . . civilian
employees."
"Those are our staff," Quistis
replied, realizing the differences in terminology between the somewhat informal
Balamb and the much more rigid Galbadia Gardens. "We refer to anyone who
isn't a SeeD, Instructor, or cadet as
staff."
"I see," Gerrard replied.
"My apologies, Instructor. What about non- employees?" once again Quistis
was confused. "Civilians that aren't employed by Garden. I have heard rumors
that there are civilians living inside Garden due to . . . personal relationships
with SeeDs and staff. That's supposed to be against
regulations."
"We do have one civilian
who doesn't work for us in any official capacity living in Balamb Garden,
Rinoa Heartilly, but she was one of our clients a few months back and was
and still is seeking asylum inside Balamb." Quistis regarded Gerard as he
nodded thoughtfully. "Is there a
problem?"
"Heartilly . . . wasn't she
present during the Battle of the Cape of Good Hope?" Gerrard asked, reffering
to the battle between the Galbadian army controlling Galbadia Garden and
the students of Balamb
Garden.
"Yes," Quistis replied. "She
played an important role in that battle, despite no real loyalties to SeeD.
Why?"
". . . nothing," Gerrard
said after a moment with a shake of his head. "I've been hearing rumors about
Heartilly and Commander Leonhart, and I was curious as
to-"
"We don't discuss private
matters like those around here," Quistis cut off Gerrard rather curtly. "Personal
relationships among SeeDs and faculty are kept private. You may hear rumors
about them, but those come through the student body, and are kept
there."
Gerrard nodded, unsurprised.
Perhaps Balamb didn't seem as professional as Galbadia Garden, though the
SeeDs, faculty, and especially the Galbadian officer trainees at that Garden
would participate in the rumor mill, an action that was obviously discouraged
here. Clearly a sign of
discipline.
In fact, the whole Garden
seemed like that. A much more relaxed and open environment than that of Galbadia
Garden, while hiding a layer of precision and discipline underneath. Galbadia
was the opposite, a Garden where discipline and order ruled the day, but
masked a generally unruly and somewhat rebellious and chaotic tendency, needing
constant enforcement. Gerrard himself had been part of the "push-up squads"
at one point, having unruly students do push-ups in the hallways as examples
to any other potential
troublemakers.
"Well, then," Gerrard said,
gesturing for Quistis to lead on. "Will you show me the rest of the
facilities?"
Quistis nodded, and led Gerrard
on. "Over there are the parking facilities. They're going to be undergoing
renovations, we've got some ambitious plans for them . .
."
As Quistis walked on and
showed Gerrard the remainder of Garden, he replayed both Quistis's statement
and what the rumor mills at Galbadia had been whispering. If what he had
heard was true, then that placed Quistis Trepe, his guide, along with the
pilot Selphie Tilmitt and now, he strongly suspected, Rinoa Heartilly at
the scene of Edea's defeat. Which meant one of those three women had to have
been the recipients of Edea's Sorceress
powers.
And that meant one of those
three was a danger to Garden, and the
world.
* * * *
*
The door to Squall's small
apartment opened, and he stepped through. Apparently, while he and his friends
had been off on their Estharian escapade, someone had had the brilliant idea
to change Squall's dorm room, this time to one of the small apartments typically
reserved for important staff. The area consisted of a seprate sleeping quarters,
bathroom, and a living area, complete with a small kitcheneete. Cozy, and
much more spacious than he was used
to.
Squall figured Cid had had
something to do with the transfer, since it had occured only a few days prior
to the final storming of Pandora, and he knew that Cid and Edea had seen
the sparks developing between himself and Rinoa and had obviously made moves
to accommadate
them.
As Squall entered his apartment,
he took off his customary jacket and tossed it into the chair by the entrance.
He looked around, then opened his
mouth.
"Rin-?"
Squall hadn't even gotten
the call out when someone's hand closed over his wrist and spun Squall tot
he right. Even as Squall's trained defense mechanisms sprang into action,
his muscles tensing to fend off the attacker, his other senses told him
different. He felt the slender, familiar fingers around his wrist, and caught
her scent . .
.
In the span of a second,
Squall went from complete ease to battle- ready tenseness, and then back
to ease and comfort as his free hand came around to pull Rinoa in closer.
They shared a close, tight
hug.
"I missed you," Rinoa whispered
into his
ear.
"I was only gone for a few
hours," Squall said right back, as they loosened their grip enough to pull
their heads back and look each other in the eyes. He detached his right arm
from around Rinoa's back and ran his hand over Rinoa's cheek, brushing a
strand of black hair from her face. "But, I missed you too." Squall's hand
moved behind Rinoa's head, deep into her hair, and he pulled Rinoa closer,
their lips meeting. They broke a while later, in need of air, but as soon
as they caught their breath, they went right back, this time even more
passionately.
"How much time do we have
before the party?" Rinoa asked quietly after they broke for the second
time.
"Just under two hours," Squall
said. Rinoa smiled mischevieously, and at that moment Squall realized that
they had been unconciously moving towards the door to their apartment's bedroom,
which was now only a few feet
away.
"Plenty of time," she whispered.
Squall only nodded as they passed through the
doorway.
* * * *
*
The room was empty, save
for a pair of desks, two glowing computer screens, and a silent infiltrator,
plus two very unconcious guards slumped in the corner. Silence's hands flew
over the keyboard of one computer as the other downloaded its information
to a disk. Most of the information seemed relatively useless, but Silence
wanted to make sure he wasn't at a dead end, because if he was the whole
investigation was
sunk.
Silence continued clicking
through the useless data, shaking his head, when he happened across an HD-mail,
titled "Re: Movements." Silence opened the
mail.
From:
Velis
To:
Carli
Time: 09/14/16
12:22
Subject: Re:
Movements
Carli,
This is important. Illarra
wants you and yours to meet her and Polz in FH by the 18th. That's when the
operation's a go. We make the hit and retreat. Illarra's gonna get us in
and out, she knows the operational area, though its been a while. No doubt
we're gonna need to haul ass when we strike, the whole place will wake up
and come down on us like a pissed off Wendigo. More details there. Make sure
you leave by the 16th at most, you'll need a day or two to lose those idiots
at the EBI. And make sure you have all your equipment, especially the ones
that matter the
most.
See you
there.
Velis
Silence nodded, and downloaded
the mail. He knew he was onto
something.
FH . . . it was the 16th
of September, meaning whatever the "operation" in FH was, it was going to
be in two days. And judging by what he had heard in the corridor . . . He'd
need to move fast, but Estharian transport would be too obvious. He would
need to be more subtle . .
.
Behind him, the door
opened.
Silence was in the corner
in a flash as a guard stepped through the
door.
"Who the hell turned out
the lights?" the man asked, walking casually into the room. He reached for
the light switch and flicked it on. Bright lights filled the room, and the
first thing the guard saw was the pair of unconcious men in the
corner.
This was also the last thing
he saw, or would ever see, for even as he raised his rifle in alarm, a
kinzoku-sensu spiraled past, tearing out the man's throat. Even as he fell,
the guard's fingers spasmed, and a burst of automatic fire erupted, shattering
the stillness of the building like a sledgehammer pulverized
glass.
Shouts sounded throughout
the building, and Silence heard footsteps charging towards his
room.
"Time to go," he said to
no one in particular as the infiltrator snapped up his disks and padded out
of the room seconds ahead of the coming
guards.
By the time the men had finished
checking the room and began to search the area around, Silence was already
out the second-floor doorway, hopping off the balcony and down into the shadows
below. The once-drowsy guard at the entrance to the alley turned around,
thinking he'd heard something. He began walking into the alley, weapon raised,
but in the few seconds he'd spent searching for whatever had made the noise,
Silence was gone, living by his namesake as he exited the alley no more than
two feet beside the
man.
Even as the infiltrator worked
his way back to his vehicle, he already knew he would have to arrange transport
out of Esthar to FH. And Silence knew just who to
ask.
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Bleh, its short, and it took me too long to put it together, but, well, whatever.
Too little action, too much talking.
Also, a warning: Foreshadow updates will be more sporadic in the future,
as me, being so danged scatterbrained, will be working on four other projects
at the same time. Yikes!
Yep, I'm also working on a parallel story to Foreshadow, titled "Legacy,"
about Seifer. You may have already read the first chapter. I'm also working
on "Resident Fantasy" a tentatively titled fic putting FFVII and FFVIII
characters into the places of the characters of the Resident Evil series.
And finally, I'm working on "The Gunblade Saga" an in-depth novelization
of FFVIII, and also an untitled novelization of FFVII. Expect each of these
fics to appear sometime in the future!
Peptuck3's Fanfiction