Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Meet Me At the Altar ❯ The Beginning ( Chapter 1 )

Meet Me at the Altar

By: Moomba

E-Mail: Carbuncle25@hotmail.com

A/N: Finally got everything chaptered

Part I: In the Beginning

The scene: Deling City. A pulsating hub of buzzing energy and political intrigue situated in the Galbadian continent northwest of Galbadia Garden and the nearby Tomb of the Unknown King. People often called it Bright Light City or more affectionately by raving twenty-something year olds out for a good time, Luminosity. Either name was a perfect reflection of the vibrancy of the place. Annual festivals filled the wide streets with cheering and laughing people and the city's grandeur and ornate architectural structures lured many an inquisitive mind. Not to mention the shopping was first rate for just about anything the individual wanted and the impressively elegant Galbadia Hotel was an experience in itself.But there were many things about the city that was overlooked, be it because people were to young to know of the city's history or because people chose to be blissfully ignorant, which wasn't necessarily a good thing. Like many things in life, dark secrets and dark pasts existed... in humans, in places... and Deling City was no exception. It's past was one many would rather forget but was very much like stubborn blood stains on white material - one that just wouldn't go away; veiled over and swept under the carpet where it stayed. Hidden, yet ever present.

Today would mark the fourth anniversary of the assassination of the city's long standing President: Vinzer Deling. Not a joyous occasion to say the least. Not even for the majority who hated his dictating leadership and despised him for the tyranny he brought to the land. To die at the hands of Sorceress that was merely using him as a tool, another easily disposed of pawn in the much bigger game of chess was something of a dream come true in a sick twisted sense. It certainly removed Deling out of the equation only to give way to an even bigger menace, a threat that tore people apart; breaking bonds and creating them.

There was always a bigger picture to the snapshot you saw before you. Spotting what the underlying themes were was a mark of a great SeeD

~ ~ ~

They were running.

"Don't you dare lose him, Seifer!!" A woman with flying blond hair shouted to her partner whilst ducking through human traffic in the bustling streets of Deling City's shopping district.

"I don't plan to, Trepe!" The man called Seifer Almasy shouted back, roughly cutting through people window shopping and leisurely walking on the pavement much to their annoyance. Sod them. He vaguely heard the sounds of protest around him as he sped after their target. The target a direct priority rather than the indignity of being shoved to one side.

Narrowly missing a collision with a small child, Seifer checked behind him to see how far behind Quistis was and any sign of vehicles on the roads. Seeing none, he hand sprung over the metal fencing situated along the outside of the side walks and continued to run once his feet landed on the tarmac, his grey trench open wide open and billowing behind him.

Not too far away - a few paces behind him - Quistis Trepe continued to provide backing support. Seifer was the fastest between the two of them, leaving him to do the actual chasing but she wouldn't be too far away. The thief was a wily one and she knew from experience not to remove her eyes on this one. She had gotten the jump one too many times, far too many for her own liking.

Shouldering past a young couple to their chagrin, Quistis followed Seifer's progress with slated blue eyes under the darkening sky over Deling City. She had gone past the hotel and was now reaching the outskirts of the city, the shops rapidly leaving and barren roads approaching up ahead.

She recalled General Caraway's residence was situated along here somewhere, her recollection confirmed to be correct when she saw the guard posted at the entrance to the manor-like house. Turning back to the action before her, she looked just in time to see two running bodies curve to the right and down a side road cutting to the Presidential Palace.

Seifer gritted his teeth and put on an extra burst of speed. Where he got it from was beyond him. All he cared about was catching the little tyrant running with the agility of a fox. This was worse than SeeD training. He always kept the belief that Instructor Aki was a machine with no heart because training under him was complete and utter hell. He could drive anyone to tears with his masochistic regime and outlook on what it took to make SeeD. You could have balls of steel and it wouldn't matter. Aki was that kind of person. Or maybe because it was Seifer who he was dealing with, alongside his reputation within Balamb Garden and not so successful tutelage with Quistis.

Hyne, there was me thinking morning jogs at the beach and Training Centre sessions were bad. Seifer thought, bitterly recalling those memories.

'Morning Jogs' in Instructor Aki's terms being ten laps along the Rinahl beach. It took the best part of an hour to walk along that stretch of sand, he had to run it under an hour. At the crack of dawn just as the sun was appearing over the horizon, Aki would be waiting for him at the Front Gate. Him inside a registered Garden vehicle and Seifer clad in a plain white T-shirt and grey jogging bottoms and trainers. Aki of course would be driving down to the arranged spot and Seifer? He was instructed to hotfoot it down to the beach. To add further insult he was told to be quick about it.

Seifer recalled the time when he was rudely awakened by the sound of Aki's voice on the pictophone in his room. He had been drinking the previous night with Raijin and was nursing a serious hangover when the call came through. Without taking a shower and hardly taking a glimpse of himself in the mirror, Seifer had met Instructor Aki as usual at the Front Gate. But instead of taking the usual directive of "at the beach in fifteen minutes - don't be late!" Seifer took a permanent detour to Balamb Town and breakfast there instead. Returning only after his stomach was satisfied.

Needless to say his instructor was none the less pleased upon his arrival back to Garden two hours later. The shouting, the finger pointing, the death threats - not to mention Aki's livid face remained a permanent fixture in his memory. No GF could erase that memory much to Seifer's disappointment.

Yes Aki did punish Seifer for not following his orders through, and yes Aki did bitch continuously right up till the graduation ball but Seifer wasn't complaining. In some respects he was pleased Instructor Aki held the strict attitude because Seifer knew he was a better fighter, with near perfectly honed skills. He didn't want to admit it, but he had to hand it to the frigid bastard for getting his arse into gear.

That was four years ago.

This was now.

The action had shifted to quiet residential backstreets eerily lit by irregularly spaced lampposts. Not the cheeriest of places to be at night but then again Seifer had waded thigh high in sewage water. There weren't many people who could speak of an exact experience.

Five metres ahead of him, the thief was steadily increasing the gap as they continued to run past small back yards - knocking metal rubbish bins along the way. The backstreet was a dead-end, the way blocked by mesh fencing leading to the train station. If they were going to bag this capture it had to happen now. Seifer was sure the kid could tackle the fence with ease, him doing so was a different story all together.

Fumbling for Save the Queen, she leapt over the upturned rubbish bins stumbling over spilt garbage sprawled all over her path when she landed, nearly losing her footing. Now. Now. She could see the dead-end approaching with increased speed as she continued to run. Freeing her weapon from its clasp, she gripped the coiled up whip tightly in her right hand, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. Now. Now. Now!

Any... minute... now...

It happened in a split second, so quick that he almost missed it. From the corner of his eye he could see Quistis running alongside him, her weapon out and not quite sure of what her intentions were. He knew well enough when she lashed out in one deft movement, the whip snaking out like a tentacle and wrapping itself around its intended victim.

With his feet immobilised by Save the Queen, the thief teetered over and fell heavily on his side and emitted a shout of pain. From his fallen state he saw the emergence of two tall figures looming directly above him speaking in quiet undertones, their boots in his direct field of vision; one heeled, the other metal capped. Vibrating with fright and filled with dread he flipped over to his front and attempted to crawl away from them whilst doing a very good job at imitating a Caterchipillar.

Quistis sighed at the thief's pathetic endeavours and felt a short twinge of pity for him. A quick snap and turn of her wrist freed Save the Queen's hold on his legs. She watched with a degree of amusement as Seifer took hold of their capture by the scruff of the jacket he wore. Their job here was finally done.

Neatly recoiling her weapon, the blond woman attached it onto her low slung belt and began to walk back towards the shopping district, leaving her partner to take care of their charge. Seifer didn't seem to catch on and called after her.

"Hey hang on a minute, what am I supposed to do with him?" he said to her back.

"You know where he goes, Seifer." Quistis returned, not turning to face him. "I'll be at the Loveless."

He knew this would raise her hackles then again he was a man that liked to live dangerously so he was going to say it anyway. "Has that got anything to do with the current state your love life's in?" he asked.

Seifer was right in knowing that it would stir something inside her; Quistis on her part would let it pass for tonight. She was mentally rinsed out, tired from the pursuit and frankly didn't give a damn about her love life and the fact that it was missing a man and she was going to a bar ironically called the Loveless. And what of it? The bar had the best alcohol for miles around... that and given the right time the best company.

This time she did turn around, him holding the thief who was still determinedly trying to wriggle free and her, arms loosely held by her sides. A car with beaming headlights passed and then silence.

"Two words for you, Almasy." She said, her eyes darkening and lips set together in a half pout that suited her.

Two words. There were many possibilities on what those two words could be. Seifer was fairly sure he knew which and held his breath.

"Get bent,"

He laughed. He had to. Quistis was a tough girl who worked hard and played even harder. Yet despite all that, she remained well spoken ever since he first saw her in Balamb Garden when he was ten years old. Seifer couldn't remember an instance where she swore and he knew he was kidding himself when he thought she would tell him to 'fuck off'. He wouldn't give up hope though. He was sure she was capable of breaking her perfect image. He just needed to push the right buttons to evoke that side of her.

~ ~ ~

In one part of the city:

Tuesday Night.

A relatively sombre crowd for a bar in Deling City. The lack of action or the quiet murmurs of conversation was probably owed to the fact it was only rolling towards eight o' clock in the evening. There was still plenty of time.

Not that the solitary figure of a woman sitting alone at the bar, minded. She was quite content to nurse the drink she held with her left hand whilst her right held a gradually receding cigarette. Her third since she entered the joint.

She blew out a trail of smoke, slowly... deliberately - creating a cloud of smoky haze that lingered in the still air in front of her before progressively dissipating into nothing.

... What... A day...

She had finally completed a mission with success that had taken her longer than she bargained for and here she now sat, drinking towards her success. The taste... sweetly victorious. It was nothing new. It had been how long now? Two years - maybe three? Catching criminals on wanted posters and the Network had become child's play for her - especially with the training she had in the previous six years of her life.

Child's play... That was what could be said for the majority of the cases that was forwarded to her. But then the complicated, pain in the ass cases should not be forgotten too. Like today.

The guy was an amateur thief with a hell of a lot of good luck. And good looks too for someone as young, she silently reflected amidst another cloud of smoke. Hyne must have been on his side because it sure was hell catching him and hauling his ass in. Yeah... the experience had been hell... if it wasn't for the sewers... the Chocobos, the whole thing could have been deemed as 'normal'. But for the sewers. It was the sewers that made a muscle twitch in her jaw. The rank smell of putrefying garbage and Hyne knows what else remained firmly etched in her mind. But then the gil sure made up for everything she went through. Her spoils... going towards as many Mimmet shots she could knock down.

Lifting the small glass with its clear contents to her lips - she emptied the liquid in her mouth. At first try (a dare made by a friend) she hated the stuff, preferring to stick to sweet tasting Sylkis. Like most things in life, liking Mimmet was an acquired taste. It was the strongest of the drinks and neither was it the hype to be drunk by wusses. In many respects it separated the men from the women.

She had some good friends that would frankly pass out from the strong taste of the alcohol. She liked to... consider herself equal with those who had testosterone coursing through their veins, yet she was every bit of a woman.

A slim build, a generous bust and legs that made up her five foot six height - not many women could beat that. Then again not many women chased after wanted criminals and dallied with dignitaries as their chosen occupation.

She chuckled softly at this thought and tapped at her empty glass for a refill. Her job was... an interesting one. A mixture of politics, underground conspiracies, money and battles that often than not involved bloodshed.

Refined women would argue the vulgarness of working in such an environment. She didn't think so. Her parents were of the high class, she was told. The glitzy glamour of chandeliers, satin, silk and champagne. Her father closely associated with the President, and her mother up their with the First ladies of the Galbadian state.

Where did that leave her?

In a very confused state - that was what. There had been rows, heated arguments over her profession. Declarations that being a mercenary wasn't a profession at all. That was the last time she spoken to them. It wasn't on the best of terms, but who could blame her. These were the same people who abandoned her literally at birth. A father that wouldn't have her at the start of a promising career in state affairs and a mother who had developed serious misgivings shortly after giving birth. It wasn't a pretty picture - her past not something she wanted to go back to too often.

She preferred to keep those unpleasant aspects of her life locked and double bolted. Occasionally the closet would rattle, but she was a stubborn, determined woman. It was only on rare occasions did the skeletons come out to play.

Stubbing out the remains of her cigarette, she checked the time on the silver watch around her left wrist. Nearing nine o' clock.

They would be coming soon.

As if on cue, the bar's entrance opened, revealing a solitary silhouetted figure lit faintly by the street lamps outside. Exchanging words with the bouncer, the tall figure of a man approached the bar. He knew it was her even if her hair was down. The posture gave it away.

Amongst the slouched, lumbering figures of the male patrons in the establishment hers remained perfectly straight. Everything about it held elegance and poise even if she was hurdling over garden fences or barrelling through metal rubbish bins. She did everything with finesse and style. And one way or another - she got her man.

Sensing the emanating presence of another behind her, she removed her weapon that was up until that point occupying the adjacent stool to her right. Her lips curved - a smile emerging as she brought the shot a few inches from her mouth.

"So," she said, as the figure came to sit beside her, his duster sweeping the floor. It was the first time she had spoken to anyone all evening since entering the joint. Purposefully she avoided eye contact, choosing to stare down at the swirls in her drink. "How's it hanging, cowboy?"

Cowboy.

He's mildly surprised at that name. There were only certain people who called him that, usually in referral to his typical cowboy attire. He supposed it was the hat that did it. It had, since starting life in Galbadia Garden been a part of him as much as his rifle was an extension of his will. Wherever he aimed, the bullet struck dead on target without fail.

Irvine Kinneas didn't mind that people made fun of him at times. Hell, he was used to it by now at the age of twenty-two. You kind of expect it when you dress the part.

He's surprised because she of all people called him 'cowboy' and not someone else. For the length of time he had known her, he never knew her to call him by that name. It was always Irvine or even Mr. Kinneas when they first met since their Orphanage going days, at a mission he was to be a key part of.

He once asked her why she didn't call him 'cowboy' like the rest of them - her reply changed his regard for her, for life.

"So like how comes you don't use the cowboy names like the rest of 'em?"

"Because you have a proper name." She had said. "Because people should be treated with respect."

Respect.

That's something he hasn't heard in a long time. Most of the guys thought he was a bit of joke. It didn't help he was popular with the female cadets. But to be respected; that was truly something else. From them on she had become untouchable, elevated to a high status where no one could reach her.

Sitting there now he feels a mixture of being taken and aback and baffled as to what to say next.

He overcomes his awkwardness by signalling for his regular drink to the bartender with fingerless gloves. He smiles at a thought that comes to mind, removing his hat and fingering the brim with his thumb. He lets out a breath and turns to look at her. "Cowboy, huh?"

The female besides him, shrugging indifferently, but he notices the flash of a smile she gives him before she has her drink.

She had changed in so many ways. It was hard to believe. He always kept a steadfast belief that she of all people would stay true to her roots. One of the many lessons he learnt was that all caterpillars when in their chrysalis, undergo a metamorphosis - a phase of change. That outcome being good or bad, but she - she emerged with resplendent wings - such a beautiful butterfly she had become.

Before all this, when he knew her during the second sorceress' war, he described her to a butterfly of the sort that had yellow shimmering, gold wings. The kind that fluttered delicately from flower to flower on equally delicate long legs.

Now... he took all those assumptions back. This butterfly was tough - strong. She had black wings tinged blue and red to reflect her fiery spirit and the hidden strength within her that had the capacity to become deadly.

Back then he wasn't sure if he liked the 'new' her. Did that mean she would distance herself, leave the group because she could fend for herself without her friends?

All it meant was she had changed according to the rest of the world. You didn't - couldn't survive in a world that was cruel and riding high on the crest of oppression. Things didn't work out like that anymore. It was a jungle out there; teaming with ravaging beasts lurking in the foliage of the high trees and the long grass below. Let your guard down for one second, show any form of weakness and you instantly become prey. You become the hunted.

"Allow it this once," she says, reaching for the cigarette inside her hip-length jacket. "How have you been, Irvine?"

He watches her light up. Another shock. Irvine knew very well she smoked... It just got some getting used to that was all. "I've been cool, as usual." he said.

Cool, calm, collected. Those three words he would normally apply to himself, but he thinks it to be more appropriate for his female companion.

His drink arrives. "And you?"

"Tired. But fine none the less." she replies. "You've been stalking me." A statement, not a question. During her short journey to the Loveless she noticed a lingering figure in the background. It hovered back enough so as not to reveal its identity. Had she felt threatened by her stalker she would have taken action.

Irvine laughs at this. "Not stalking you, girl. Just following you."

"More or less the same thing, with slightly different tendencies." she says sardonically. "What are yours, exactly?"

"Well y'know... Don't see you 'round these parts too often anymore. Thought I'd catch up with my favourite girl."

Favourite girl. That was a good one. She was sure that Irvine had many favourite girls.

"What brings you to Deling anyway?"

"Trouble maker that finally got caught." She said to him. "You still running the place down Mirk alley?"

Irvine looks over his should, his expression wary. "Yeah," he said in hushed tones.

"I might stop by there later before I catch the rain back to Balamb. Pick up a few things. Want one?"

She notices him eyeing the burning end of her cigarette and offers him the pack she withdrew from her pocket. He looks down at the rectangular box with a pained look.

"Nah it's ok." Irvine declined with a wave if his hand, going back to his drink. "I'm trying to give up."

Influenced by the whole 'it's bad for you' lecture and a near death experience, he had told her about the consequences when she took up the habit.

He was going to tell her again, knowing that his would be taken in but not necessarily carried out.

"You should too," he said to her.

"I should what?" Pretending to be ignorant was not something she did a lot of. In this instance she permitted it because she knew what was coming. Procrastination was healthy in measured doses.

Irvine is unfazed by her false ignorance. "Stop smoking them things."

The eye roll. That was never a good sign.

"Of course you don't have to." he quickly puts in.

"My circumstances are a little different, Irvine." She said, letting the smoke seep out between her lips. "It's a bit hard when you have a partner who continuously does so everyday. He's the reason why I've picked it up. Passively inhaling his smoke." She patiently explained, tapping the ash onto a solid glass ashtray.

"Have you tried to get him to stop?"

"I don't bother." She admits openly. "You know him. Goes through one ear and out the other. He listens to no one, never has least of all me. Not without incentive mind you."

Irvine nods. He gets her point. It was a nasty habit - a hard one to break as he all too well knew. He was thankful for the wakeup call Selphie gave him when he was taken to hospital for severe smoke inhalation after a carriage from Timber to Deling caught fire. An investigation on the attack on the 3:35pm express train leaving Timber concluded the attack was from a band of anti-SeeD haters that resulted in the new laws passed throughout the Galbadian continent and the close affiliation they had with the new President. The near fatal incident had taught Irvine a lesson: he wasn't a cat with nine lives. He was a human with one. Just one and only one life. Screw up on the one chance and you were dead. That was why he chose to stop the smoking. He didn't want to reduce his life span by half when he still had so much going for himself. He hoped one day she would see that too.

Thinking back to her partner, he asks how he is.

She shrugged. What could she say? "Go ask him yourself, he'll be here in a short a while."

"What about Selphie?"

"She's doing good. She and Zell are going out."

If she had told him that two years ago, he would have reacted. Selphie and Zell? The two most enthusiastic and liveliest of people possibly in the entire planet? That if they were two stars suspended in the vast realms of space and underwent nuclear fusion, the energy between them would be enough for them to go supernova? The imagery was absurdly extreme to be true but to those who knew them the possibility was there. Never mind physics and whatever laws of space there were.

He looks at his drink set before him on the counter top, pondering its amber depths as if the answer lay hidden there somewhere. "That's great to hear." He means it though his tone of voice doesn't reflect his sincerity.

Zell was a good guy with a heart of gold. His mouth had a tendency to runaway and he did act first and think later - a trait he carried with him for a very long time - so what? No one was perfect.

She looks over at him knowingly, holding back words she wanted to say. It was evident he missed the spunky sprite and her sunny smile.

9:25pm

Time to be making her exit and brawlers their entrance.

Jabbing her cigarette with well-manicured fingers coated in a clear varnish, she slid off the stool and stood to secure her weapon with the clasp on her belt.

"You're making tracks already?" Irvine said, resenting that they wouldn't be talking for longer.

"Yes. Early train to catch tomorrow morning; the only dependable thing about Deling these days. I don't get on that train; I'll be waiting at the station for a good three hours. Will Ray be at the shop?"

"Yeah, he's in a crazy mood tonight. You're not gonna wait for him?" Him being her partner.

"I'll leave you to have your guy talk. A woman listening in would seem quite intrusive, no?"

"I dunno..." Irvine leans back on his stool as if considering her question. "You might learn a thing or two about us complexed males."

A slow smile played on her flawless face. She thanked the bartender and deposited two five hundred gil notes on the counter. She patted the cowboy on the shoulder, a chuckle reaching him.

Bending down so that she as level with his ear, she brought her lips close whispering. "I know all there is to know about you men, already."

He had to laugh, this time his smile reaching his cornflower blue eyes. Swivelling on his stool, he hollered to her slowly retreating back.

"Fancy letting me on the secrets of women?" He called.

She merely shook her blond head and raised a hand that constituted as her way of waving. "Goodbye Irvine."

Damn.

She looked every bit the femme fatale and she could get rough with the toughest of men, unafraid of getting down and dirty, no freaking out on chipping a nail or ruining a manicure. That was her true beauty - what separated the real women from the wanna bes with their enhanced bodies.

Regardless of the rumours and what people said about her, Quistis Trepe... was a real lady.

~ ~ ~

Whilst on the other side of the city:

"You've been a real pain in the ass, do you know that?" Seifer Almasy said holding a young boy by the collar of his torn jacket.

"And what?" he shot back, digging his heels as they sluggishly made progress to the depot centre situated behind the rent a car station at Deling City's entrance.

They passed an elderly couple sitting on one of the many wooden benches littered around the huge city, earning Seifer and his companion stern looks. Something Seifer easily ignored.

"Do you often go stealing things that don't belong to you?"

"They should keep an eye on their stuff more carefully, innit? 'Stead of going to those flashy parties sipping their posh drinks and wearing monkey suits."

How true was that? "That doesn't give you the right to go breaking and entering their house. There are eyes all over the place." Seifer said, feeling uncomfortable to be telling lecturing him like this. It wasn't like he had been an angel in his youth.

"Thanks for the tip," was the sour reply.

"Sure thing,"

Despite himself, Seifer took a liking to the scruffy teenager having chased him through the densely populated streets of the shopping district. A smart mouth that knew no bounds - precisely what he possessed.

"Where're you taking me?"

"The holding bay."

This piece information didn't please Seifer's charge the slightest. He began to struggle. "Awe man, no! I'm gonna get chucked in the slammer for that?! No way, I stole a stupid box!! I'll tell you where it is." he pleaded.

"Good, 'cos I was just about to ask you where you hid the stash."

"I only took the box. I swear nothing else. I-"

"Where is it?"

"In the sewers. At the foot of the ladder in the old Archway control room."

Seifer took a mental note of the location as a flashy red convertible rolled by. They crossed the zebra crossing.

"Y-You're gonna let me go, right? I told you where the stuff is, right?"

"Let you go?" Seifer echoed. "Now why would I wanna do a silly thing like that, kid?"

The boy's face fell.

"My instructions are, I gotta deliver your skinny ass for collection at the depot. I don't do that, I don't get paid." Seifer explained. And I'll get killed, he added silently to himself.

"WHAT?!" The boy became frightened as well as outraged to find he was being hunted down. "I've got a freaking price on my head?! Are you insane!! I've seen guys rape women and beat old people. You're telling me I'm worse than that?!"

"Just doing as I'm told," For a change, his brain told him. Despite what his mind was telling him, the boy had a point. Seifer had dealt with thieves before with it being a simple case of returning the stolen goods and an over night stay at the holding bay, end of story. But this... This was different; something was nagging him to look into the case further.

"Awe man..." the boy moaned, fisting his hand through his hair and screwing his face in despair. "I can't believe this..." He then began to cry, a sorry sight to see in Seifer's case. He hated crying especially from kids, it sent twinges of guilt hailing from the past to his conscience. The boy couldn't be more than fifteen.

Loosening his grip on the jacket Seifer stopped walking. "They won't lock you up. The worse that could happen is ninety-two hours of community service."

The boy looked up at him, pupils dilated under the bright street-lamp overhead wearing an expression that clearly thought him to be insane.

"People at the holding bay go to the D-District prison. That thing in the middle of nowhere, nothing for miles but sand and more sand. The place where murderers and psycho people live. There's no such thing as community service."

Seifer frowned. He was kidding right? The boy was too young to go to that cesspit; the D-District prison was no place for a kid not even out of his teens to go. Men charged for first-degree murder were held there. On his own, the boy wouldn't survive the night.

But 10,000 gil hung in the balance. And she would kill him if he let this one go. Seifer had no choice.

"There's no way I could do you this favour, kid." Seifer said, beginning to walk again. "You're worth a lot of money to me and my bike needs-"

"You're a head-hunter?!"

Seifer was sure the whole of Deling City heard this declaration it was that loud. He winced. "I don't think they heard you in the northern sector of the city." he said. "And I'm not a head-hunter. You'd be dead and in a body bag if I was."

Unimpressed at Seifer's attempt at humour, the young thief scowled. "Makes no difference. You're getting money for it." He says bitterly.

"What's your name?"

"Gonna come visit me in prison?" The boy spat.

"Yeah sure," Seifer said, deadpan. "I'm asking because I hated being called a boy when I was younger. Don't know how you feel about me calling you a 'kid' half the time."

"So what," he replied dully, giving up hope on being released. He began to drag his feet at the strain from previously running. "You can call me a Moomba for all I care."

"Do you have parents? Is that why you go stealing?"

Silence.

"I thought so," Seifer confirmed to himself.

"So what?!" He was shouting again, startling a young couple during their peaceful walk around the city's grounds. "They didn't care, the world doesn't care. Why the hell should you?!"

The hatred and anger radiating from this little urchin awakened something in Seifer. It was so alien to see it in retrospect when he, Seifer Almasy was filled with the very same emotions during his earlier years in Garden. Seifer wouldn't admit it out loud but hearing the boy speaking with such ferocity and seeing his eyes clouded by so much hate... it struck a deep chord within him, rendering him speechless.

Recovering from the impact of that outburst, Seifer spoke up with caution. "I didn't have any parents either and I turned out ok. ...Sort of." Seifer told him, seeing the flashing neon lights of the car rental not too far away.

"Yeah sure..." The boy snorted, kicking at a crumpled soda can sending the flattened piece of metal flying where it landed on top of a sewer grill at the side road. It teetered there for a few seconds before sliding down the gap and disappearing from sight. The successful yet somewhat unconventional method of rubbish disposal displeased the boy even further. Seifer felt his shoulder muscles tighten. "You're no better than the rest of us..."

Ouch. That stung. "Hey don't take it personal. I hardly even know you-"

"So stop acting all buddy buddy with me, like everything's gonna be alright! Man... this is nothing but a freakin' nightmare."

Obviously conversation with the boy was adding more fuel to the fire; the best thing being just to shut the hell up. It was pointless pursue the argument any further. The capture in total had taken him the length of a week to catch the thief, including asking around and following up on leads. He couldn't afford to let this one go.

Like you care, Almasy. His mind said as they approached the open entrance to the Galbadian depot centre. A man smoking a cigarette leant against the doorjamb, watching their arrival with dark beady eyes. I don't, he answered himself mentally. So stop caring and get the hell out of here.

Lips set in a determined line, he ushered the reluctant boy inside the cold white washed walls of the building and up the check in counter where a very bored looking attendant kept vigil behind a wall of think plexi glass covered in scratch marks and in some places... cracks.

"Got one for you," Seifer announced, nudging the boy forward.

"Name," the attendant said in a high nasal voice.

"Shove off!!" The boy growled, jamming his hands into his torn jean pockets.

"Shove off..." the man behind the glass said, typing into the computer.

The kid was understandably being petulant but for Seifer he still had places to go to before the night was through. "Don't be an idiot." Seifer hissed.

"Tch, alright." he sulked. "Loki Rabenscarr."

"Age?"

"Fourteen,"

"Address?"

"The dustbin beh- ow!" The young thief glared murderously up at the ex-sorceress' knight when his foot was trodden on. "Geez, DC Hostel Deling City."

"Next of kin?"

"Not applicable," Seifer quickly supplied.

Nasal mouth raised a well-groomed eyebrow at Seifer through the glass and received a glare in return.

"Right, I need you to sign here and here." A form was passed through the small gap beneath the glass along with a pen. Taking the black biro, Seifer hurriedly signed in the indicated places - an 'S' followed by an 'A' and then a scribbly mess that served as the remainder of his surname.

"And I'll need your e-data card to activate payment," The attendant said.

Seifer returned the signed form along with a thin transparent object the size of a credit card that revealed the network of chips attached to the board. It opened like a tiny book and was fed into the computer to download all the relevant details to be forwarded on to an automated email service for gil transfer.

Taking the form, stamping it and placing it on a paper rack of identical forms the attendant patiently watched the egg timer on the screen turn once, then twice before the card was finally ejected and a confirmation slip printed.

"Money transfer should be completed over night. You can leave the boy with the guard over there. Have a nice day."

Have a nice day, Seifer thought numbly making his way back in a half dazed state. Loki's demented shouts of unfairness and cruelty to children still rung in his ears - he wouldn't forget the boy's expression for a long while. It was the look of a scared child. He had done the right thing... hadn't he?

Blowing out a long breath, Seifer shook his head in doubt as wind from a westerly direction ruffled his hair and played with his coat.

Have a nice day? ... What with everything that had happened... He needed a goddamn drink.