Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Meet Me At the Altar ❯ The Beginning: Part III ( Chapter 3 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Inside the Loveless:

Groaning, Irvine strove to sit up, his back muscles protesting loudly when he attempted to do so. A backwash of blood trickled from his nose and down to the back of his mouth, the metallic warm taste unpleasant to him. Spitting out blood, Irvine rolled to his side propping himself onto his elbows to find the place deserted. Where was everyone? Lanky, Fatty, the dude with the messed up nose and the one who called him a... gateau? Did Shorty call him a gateau?

Giving up on trying to recollect the word, Irvine groaned aloud once more when pain flooded his senses. Man was he hurting like hell. "Dammit!" Irvine moaned at the very thought of resembling the one who had the nose fractures. No fucking way...

"Are you all right?" The bartender came from the behind the bar and knelt by his side, his face etched with horror and concern. Chairs with broken backboards and missing legs lay haphazardly around the bar - one, half thrown through a window - bottles scattered everywhere like the pins in a strike.

"What should I do?" The bald man despaired. "Should I call the Galbadian army? SeeD?"

"No," Irvine rasped biting back the pain he was feeling around the region of his nose. "Here," he fumbled for his communicator and brought up Ray's number. "Tell this guy to get here, quick."

~ ~ ~

He was downstairs in the basement when his coms device went off in the back pocket of his fatigues, interrupting him in the middle of a welding operation.

Cursing behind the protective mask he wore, Ray set down the misaligned metal poles he was, up until that point working on, wearing a displeased look.

Removing one hand free of the thick gloves he fumbled for the small machine. Chirping and vibrating in his palm Ray saw Irvine's name flashing on the screen. He instantly picked up and proceeded to give his partner a piece of his mind.

"Get your stinkin' ass back here, Irvine before I- huh?"

"Hello? Hello can you hear me? Hello?"

Ray held the com away from him eyeing it with a frown. Cautiously he held it back against his ear. "You're not Irvine." He said. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Hello? Is anyone there? Hello, why can't you-"

"Are you deaf! I hear you, shut the hell up already." Ray snapped, waving the welder around as he paced the room. "Who is this?"

"Hello? Is this Ray?"

Losing patience, Ray gripped the com tighter. "Listen fool, I'm the one asking the fucking questions. Who are you?"

"This is Merl, I'm-"

"Merl?" Ray broke in. "Aww shit, sorry man for swearin' at'cha. I thought you were some nutcase messin' with Irvine's-"

It was Merl's turn to interrupt. "That's what I've come to call you about." he said. "It's Irvine and his friend. Irvine's was clobbered by some brawlers. The other one, Seifer is it? He's outside with one of them. Irvine wants you to come right away."

"Shit!" Ray closed his eyes tightly not wanting to believe what he was hearing. "Right..." he said after some time.

"They messed up my bar," Merl informed.

I'm a gonna kill those two, Ray murderously thought. I'm gonna use those bullets I customised on both their asses. "Ok. Right. Uhh, we can sort that out later. All right, just, just kick him in the ass for me. I'm on my way."

"Who?"

"Huh?"

"Kick who?"

"The brainless Stetson wearing idiot with you," Ray said and hung up.

Rushing up stairs, dreadlocks trailing behind him, Ray skidded into the living quarters and grabbed his shotgun from under the bed. Hurrying to the workshop he slung a belt preloaded with throwable armaments, praying to his mother to safeguard his sanity. Before the night was through he vowed to kill Irvine himself if the brawlers didn't come for seconds.

~~~

Handing the device back to Irvine who had returned to lying flat on his back, Merl sat on his haunches seemingly hesitant.

"What Merl? You wanna say somethin' to me?"

"Your friend, Ray."

"Yeah what about him?" Irvine rolled his head so he could view the bald bartender.

"He said I should kick you for him."

A laugh erupted from Irvine's mouth before cursing at the pain. "Ha ha- argh, shit!" He stilled his face. "He said that?"

"Yes,"

"He was joking, Merl." Irvine told the older man when it looked like he was going to carry out Ray's instructions. "When he said to kick me, you do the opposite. I'm already in p- OW!"

Merl stood, "You need ice," he said. "You've started to bleed again." Walking away, Merl disappeared to the bar to make an ice pack.

Then a thought struck him causing him to groan. Not from the hurting but something far worse.

"Merl," Irvine hollered. "Where's my Exeter?"

"What's that?"

"Exeter," he repeated. "You know, my weapon, my rifle?"

"I don't know about that."

"C'mon Merl! You were here all this time. You must've seen where it went or who took it."

"I don't I'm afraid," Merl said, returning to his side with ice bundled in a dish cloth.

"What the heck were you doing then?" Irvine asked, taking the ice pack and setting it gently on the bridge of his nose.

"I was hiding," Merl said defensively. "Trust me to get the rogues and troublemakers. Shirly never gets this much trouble over at the Vino."

"That's because nobody goes there." said Irvine. "I went there one time and found the place totally deserted. There's rumours going round saying she buys low quality alcohol and passes them off as the good stuff. I don't know how much truth their is to that or whether it has anything to with the Vino's poor business." All right, so I'm making it up. Irvine thought staring at the wooden ceiling. Someone sue me... I'm hurtin' and Merl's unhappy, I could do with some positiveness right now. Where's Selphie when you need her?

A vision of large emerald eyes, a wide smile and cascade of yellow colour popped inside his mind. Brushing the image hurriedly aside Irvine was quick to remember something else he was lucking other than positiveness.

"I'm like totally pissed off!" He fumed as best he could in his current state. "Where'd my Exeter go?! Man... I love that baby."

Comforted by his words though he suspected Irvine created the story to lift his downtrodden spirit, Merl patted the cowboy on his shoulder sympathetically. He wasn't a weapons man himself, disliked any kind of violence and disliked confrontation just as much. He was a passive man and very much liked the peaceful approach - quite an irony being the owner of the Loveless and supplying alcohol to paying customers, the very same alcohol responsible for the violence. Ah yes what an irony indeed. Life was full of those. His life filled with them ... the greatest tragedy being Shirly was his ex-wife.

Their divorce was not a pleasant one and they separated in less than amicable terms. The woman went as far as to claim the Loveless as part of the settlement agreement but Merl would not have any of it. The Loveless was his past and it was all he had, he'd be damn if a woman tried to pry it away from him. The final blow was the set up of the Vino - a bar to rival his own - a move made by his ex-wife just to spite him. True he had lost customers to her, yet despite that those who were loyal to him returned again and again; the Loveless was still making money and that would suffice.

Loveless... exactly how he was feeling tonight and every night for the past seven years. Hyne, single at the age of fifty-two years was oppressively lonely...

= = =

He smelled her scent before seeing her, the trail of Jasmine lingering in the path she trod acting as a guide, leading him to her.

Ray caught up with her at the Archway where she was crossing the boulevard that ran right through it.

Somewhere close by a clocked chimed signalling the time of eleven o' clock. Stopping to listen to the rings, Quistis' eyes roamed about her, her gaze coming to rest on an all too familiar evocative building. The Presidential Palace and the risen Carousel Clock... the source of the chilling melodic chimes.

It brought back a flood of memories hitting her like a great tidal wave. Flashes of the past whipped before her, blurring her vision. Exotic music, an excited flock of people, fireworks, a parade float, the sinister face of the Sorceress Edea, Seifer - a sneer gracing his features. She had seen it all. Irvine taking aim with a sniper rifle to assassinate the Sorceress, Squall leaping from the roof the Palace and driving an unoccupied car with the fierceness of a man possessed. Rinoa and her silent scream as she watched the ice pillar pierce Squall's chest.

"Quistis! Hey, wait up girl!" a voice reached out to her, tearing her away from her stupor.

She whirled around to face the direction of the voice, seeing Ray running towards her with a shotgun shouldered on his right. Stress lines on his forehead were clearly visible under the street lamp when he neared.

"What's with the heavy artillery?" She asked in bemusement.

The dark coloured man held up a hand signalling for her to wait whilst he caught back his breath. She noted however the lack of smile at her mild joke at the all the equipment in his possession.

"What's wrong?" she asked, sensing something not right. She spotted the outline of a large pear shape like object on the utility belt he wore. Quistis pointed at them. "Are those grenades?" Why do you have grenades?

"Smoke bombs," he corrected her. "There's trouble. Irvine and Seifer ran into some bad guys at the bar." He said.

Quistis groaned aloud. I should have known this would happen, she said to herself. Seifer has never failed to get tangled up in a fight, what made me think this occasion would be different?

You're too beguiled by him, a voice whispered at the back of her mind. Shutting that part of her brain, Quistis sighed and massaged her forehead. "Hyne... They sure know how to pick them."

"You still got them bullets I gave you?"

Quistis held the black bag up. "Why-"

"Good! 'Cos I'm gonna be needing them!"

A bus headed for the Northern sector chugged past them, emitting a burst of black, sooty fumes.

Ray took off after it. "Hey!" he yelled. "Heeeey!"

The bus driver peered at his side mirror and saw a black man chasing his vehicle with a large gun strapped to him, his tongue lolling out like a rabid dog as he continued after the bus.

Put out by the peculiar bordering scary display of behaviour, the driver pressed on the accelerator forgetting that the bus was only allowed to do twenty, it gave Ray the opportunity to catch up in no time.

"What the hell's the matter with you?!" He demanded, reaching to cut the engine. "I was yelling for you to stop. Why didn't you stop?"

The bus driver gurgled something at the back of his throat frightened the shotgun would be put into use.

Ray narrowed his eyes. "It's 'cos I'm black." he said, his voice hostile. "You got a problem with black people?"

"N-N-No, no, no!"

"Ray," Quistis chided pulling him away from the terrified man.

"Fine, I'll let you off this time. Now turn this thing round and head for Eastern sector, Locke street."

"But that's a side street." The driver argued.

"I know that, genius!"

"The bus won't fit!"

"Fine. Fine. Fine!" Ray snapped losing patience. "Just hit on that gas pedal and shift this thing into gear!!"

"The bus can only go twenty! Thirty tops!!"

"Thirty my ass. Right that's it," Grabbing hold of his navy blue uniform, the weapons guru hauled the poor driver out of the main seat. "We do this my way. Quistis, jump out back."

Stepping around the bus driver who sat in a heap on the smoothed out concrete road, Quistis offered an apologetic smile.

"I apologise for all this trouble," she said, stooping down to hand his fallen cap. "And for my..." What was Ray to her anyway? Friend? … Some friend. She did not know the guy all to well compared to Irvine or Seifer. Friendship involved a certain bonding; an element Quistis felt was somewhat lacking between Ray and she. It must be man thing. Quistis mused. "My... associate's behaviour." Evidently Ray skipped out on the social skills aspect somewhere along his lifeline.

"So he is with you?!" he sputtered, jamming the cap on his brown haired head back to front but not noticing the mistake.

Again, the apologetic smile; more for herself this time. Hauling her body into the passenger compartment the bus came roaring to life the moment Quistis' foot was lifted from the ground - the vehicle leaving a mass of sooty clouds in its wake.

===

Dirk Steiner was feeling pretty scared right now. He was a man who seldom got scared. As far as he was concerned only two things in his life scared him: his mother and dogs. His mother because her wrath when at a critical state surpassed anything on this planet. It was a miracle he survived all those years back; the numerous occasions when she would shout, chase and eventually beat him for committing a bad deed be it bullying a hapless child, stealing people's money or ruining personal property. Grown man or not, if she ever found out the trouble he got into on a nightly basis a good hide hitting was a sure bet.

His phobia of canines extended as far back as his early teens - his wild years of ruling Deling's dumps and back alleys. Unknown to him, one of the residents who's small back yard he regularly trashed, acquired themselves a large dog with the purpose of putting a stop to the destruction Dirk caused. Needless to say the guard-dog did its job, deterring Dirk Steiner from his riotous ways and dogs for life.

He didn't mind those sickly looking poodles or toy dogs he saw the higher class women walk around the city with their diamond encrusted leashes. He jumped whenever they would yap but then he was much bigger than those things and a discreet hard kick usually solved the problem.

Thanks to a man in a grey trench coat - each arm emblazoned with blood red cross-swords - Dirk was facing one of his fears but in mass proportions. The thing looming before him was no mangy poodle he could easily rid of with a simple kick. It was bigger than him, towering before him at a hefty twenty-three feet - the site making his blood freeze and shaking him to the very core.

Scarface was right. It was a dog. It wasn't the toy type pooches Dirk envisioned. This was big, packed with gnashing fangs and razor sharp claws. Blobs of saliva dripped from its muzzle forming amoebic pools on the concrete road of Locke Street. The beast's breath felt like a mini hurricane, each exhalation Steiner worked against with a conscious effort so as not to be blown away.

Taking a step back, Steiner goggled at his adversary then with some difficulty at the beast. A problem because it had three heads.

= = =

"Ray!!" Quistis shouted over the chugging sound of the bus engine. Without warning the bus turned sharply to the left. "Slow down!"

"What did you say?" He yelled back, not hearing her because of the loud noise. This time the bus veered to the right accompanied by angry horn blares.

Excusing herself between petrified passengers, Quistis reached the place behind the driver's seat. She banged against the metal grille.

"Ray!"

"What?!"

"Slow down,"

"I'm on thirty for Hyne's sake. Girl, what wrong with you?"

"Your erratic driving is scaring everyone." she said.

"Say what? What the hell did you jus' say?"

Growling in frustration Quistis slumped heavily on the bench seat in complete resignation. "Hyne help me," she whispered. She started at the sound of someone's shrill cries.

"Get me outta here! I don't wanna die young. I've got-"

"Who the fuck's screaming back there?!" Ray's voice rose above the choking engine and people's shouts of horror. His foot pressed on the accelerator, pushing the vehicle near to fifty. He heard the shuffle of feet. The idiots were planning to jump off?

"Get me outta h-"

"Shut the hell up and sit the fuck down!" Instructed Ray with such force the entire bus became silent instantly. "Shit," he sharply stomped on the brake pedal to avoid collision with a white open top car. Swerving to the right to over take the cruising car, Ray swore again. "Y'all giving me a migraine. I hate migraines."

= = =

Steiner backed up and collided with people from the bar crowding round to see how the events would follow. "Get out of my way!!" He ordered, pushing men and women to one side.

"What's wrong?" Seifer's voice called out to him. "Not worried are we?" A hot rasping breath grazed the back of Seifer's neck and ruffled his blond hair.

No. Maybe. "I thought you wanted to fight?"

"Y-You think you can scare me with that monster?" Dirk pointed at Cerberus' form at a safe distance near the Loveless' entrance.

"You look pretty scared right now." Seifer remarked with the slightest hint of self-satisfaction at Steiner squirming under his muscle bound body. "And don't call Cerberus a monster. He hates being called that."

"He's a freaking monster!!" Dirk shouted, dark eyes travelling to take in the GF's entire size. "And that 'thing' has a name?! Where the hell did you get it, the Island Closest to Hell?!!"

Seifer sighed. Couldn't humans get anything right? "Looks to me the beer's messed up that brain of yours. What you've just said holds no logic at all."

"Huuh?!"

"Since when have humans been able to tame monsters even more so from Heaven or Hell. Cerberus is a GF." Seifer explained coldly. "He's getting kinda hungry."

GFs. "You're one of them, them SeeDs?"

"You betcha,"

"Shit," Dirk cursed; his eyes never leaving Cerberus. The three headed dog in turn stared down at him with malevolent eyes, a low thrumming growl release

Easy, Seifer mentally told the Guardian Force.