Author's Comment:
Sorry about the huge wait again. Immediately after I promised to be more frequent with this, I became grounded from the computer, and incidentally, an online novel is hard to manage when one is unable to go online. I just got the computer back a couple days ago, and I hope this chapter is up to your standards! :D
I don't think I'll be grounded again any time soon, so look forward to updates for real this time! If nothing comes, give me a bit of a shove...
Thursday, November 9, 2007
Squall's eyes watered in the smoke and wind as his hair was blown violently about his face. The moon hung low in the orange sky, challenging the sun. The map, he held at arm's length, studying the overlaid path drawn for his party to follow. The dotted red line started on the beach, went up a staircase to the city's entrance, and wound through the narrow streets, finally ending at the Town Square. Today, I'll become a SeeD, Squall thought as he lowered the diagram to see the real thing. Squinting his eyes, he noticed a thin white line encompassing most of Lapin beach; what must have once served as a barrier against enemy attack, was now obstructing what entrance Dollet’s reinforcements might have gained. As they approached at an unsettling speed, the weather-worn breaks in the wall grew more defined, and despite the width of each, Squall wondered just how much they’d need to slow down to file through them. Explosions, like little lights blinking in and out of existence, lined the shores of Dollet. His fingers tightened on the railing of the viewing deck as the thirteen vessels forged their way through the thrashing waves, and the shores of Dollet grew closer with each passing second. It was during this particular second that Squall realized they would not have enough time to slow down for the barrier, at their speed. A beat passed, and he found himself back inside, heart pounding with adrenaline. “Everyone, brace yourselves!”
What happened next depends on who you would ask. It happened so quickly, and in such a jumbled panic that no person can ever recollect the same story twice. The only bits that everyone seems to agree on are as follows: A rush of fear and excitement, an ear-splitting bang, a sudden darkness, a deafening crash, and a blinding light as the entrance bay doors parted like iron curtains revealing a raging battlefield.
What was once a lively beach, bustling with tourists and activity, had been reduced to a ravaged hell, littered with barricades and craters.
“Okay,” Quistis instructed as Squall, Seifer, and Zell stepped onto the shore. “Your objective is to secure the Central Square!”
“Let’s move out!” Seifer commanded before running ahead in the excitement.
Squall and Zell followed closely behind, passing another group of nervous SeeD candidates as they climbed the rusted staircase to the city. They met Seifer at the top, already engaged in confrontation with two soldiers, bearing their guns as fiercely as their nation’s colours. The standard Galbadian military attire consisted of mostly blue, with silver armour protecting only their shoulders, waist, hands, and feet. It offered little protection, but it was cost-efficient, lightweight, and expendable… As were those wearing it. The only unsettling articles were their automatic rifles, and their helmets. The former, while cheaply made, and easily jammed were no less dangerous than anything else at close range. The latter was unnerving on a different level. It engulfed the soldier’s face with glowing red eyes, granting him vision in the veil of smoke or darkness. Putting one on meant you were no longer a person; you became a representative of the Army of Galbadia; you became a number.
“They’re Dollet’s reinforcements?!” said the taller number to the other.
“They’re just kids,” said the other.
“Still,” said the taller, crudely raising his rifle, “orders are orders.”
The other agreed, raising his piece in kind. While their prose acknowledged little difference between youth and age, their trigger fingers lingered with discomfort. The hesitation, admitting it was only a second or two, was enough. Standard fare, figured Squall before leaping into action.
His gunblade slid easily from its hilt. Squall went for the taller soldier, striking his rifle in half before decking him hard under the ribs. Pain settled over the soldier’s face as he gasped for breath and toppled backward, clipping his head on a large stone. Zell had already taken care of the other, who had managed to get off a few shots before being robbed of both arm and consciousness.
Seifer chuckled from behind them. “Figured I’d let you two land the first blow, this time. You need the experience, after all.”
“Like you guys would know anything about experience,” retorted another student, ascending the stairs, leading two others. They must be another squad. Squall recognized one of them as Selfie from earlier that morning. He averted her eyes as she smiled at him. Seifer raised an eyebrow. “To gather info from the network system,” the student continued, “we’ve got do what we can without any radio waves. Basically, unlike you guys, we have to use our heads.” He spoke with a tone of arrogance that rivalled Seifer’s.
“Sounds boring,” said Squall.
“Besides,” Zell added, stepping forward zealously, “we’ll be the ones who save the day.”
“You meatheads are all the same,” sighed the student, turning his attention to a mess of wires occupying a slightly damaged control panel. “There’s got to be an INS cable somewhere. Squall looked around, picking up on Seifer’s absence, and motioned to Zell to get moving. They moved.
The moon shone overhead as they made their way down Dollet’s Main Street, a winding thoroughfare of cobblestone roads, gas-lit streetlamps (those not yet damaged by Galbadia’s first sweep), and old-fashioned cars. Their feet slapped the pavement, echoing eerily through the serpentine maze of stone and mortar. People stuck in the past, Squall thought to himself. No wonder they couldn’t stand up to the G-Army, they probably don’t even have their own military.He pictured what it must have been like: Every able-bodied man and boy holding their own against the long arm of Galbadia, doing their best to hold the more vulnerable out of the grasp of danger. It was sad, really. A gurgled scream of pain and surprise spilled from around the next bend. Squall and Zell doubled their pace, turning the corner to see Seifer pulling his blade out of an unfortunate man in blue. He wiped the steel against his coat, taking no heed in the crimson smear it left abaft, as if it were some demented trophy of the life he took, a pretty display for his efforts.
“Having fun yet?” Seifer asked calmly, before running off again.
Squall looked to Zell whose face was pale with apprehension. He was clearly spooked, and Squall couldn’t blame him. It was the first real presage of anything yet to come. It occurred to Squall, now, that there was a threshold to be crossed that could not be adjourned for much longer, and once crossed, it would set in motion a wheel of events that could not be easily reversed. This was the end of their childhood, and the beginning of something else entirely. This sense of scale frightened Squall, so he shook it off and turned to Zell. “We should get going,” He said simply.
“Right,” Zell agreed with a detached numbness.
The two boys who would not be boys much longer continued to the Central Square undisturbed, and in silence.