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[Square Tribute] Final Fantasy I
locochoco
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Introduction Part 1
Reflections From The Future
Reflections From The Future
"My name is Hans Venechenko. You don't know me, but you know our story. You know her legacy.
It's a story of love, hate, friendship, betrayal, courage, and sacrifice. All the hallmarks of a good story. It's about rebellion, men and women taking a stand to defend their land and people before there was nothing left to fight for. It's the journey of how one girl from the slums of Zenobia inspired the world to form a revolution. To take our freedom by force, although at a grave, and unforgettable cost.
This is her story, but it's my story, too. And I'd like to share it with you..."
Introduction Part 2
Desert Rose
Desert Rose
Ana Maria Grace rolled over in her comfy bed of soft, warm, purple sheets in her cozy room. She was sound asleep, dreaming of some better time and place. A land of innocence, love, and peace. Angelo slept comfortably beside her. He was her large, furry brown dog. Her beautiful blonde hair rested over her forehead, covering her left eye. Her sparkling emerald gems were shut as she slept the morning away against her fluffy purple pillow.
The buzzer inside of her old mechanical clock clang its usual dull, metallic, insistent racket. New clocks had something called a chip that was made from data or something. Here in the slums of Zenobia, there was no fancy, fussy technology. Bikes that ride themselves, you just sit and stare at people passing by. Neat little boxes that show moving pictures. Nothing so sophisticated. The inner city was like something from a comic book or fiction novel. Some futuristic metropolis turning time like the inside of a clock. Late at night you can look out your bedroom window, peer north into the night sky, and see it's lights glowing, flashing and blinking like stars hung just above and below the horizon.
She opened her bright green eyes quickly, smiling wide. She smacked the plated spring on the clock, silencing it for another twenty-four hours, and leapt from her bed, startling Angelo as she did so. He slowly got up off the bed, jumping to the hardwood floor with a surge of energy that would last for the next 12 hours.
"Can't come today, Angelo. I'm goin' to the inner districts," Ana said, leaning over in the doorway. She shut the door on him, and he tilted his head with a whimper.
She jogged down the stairs of her tiny home, running into the kitchen where her mother was sitting, reading the Zenobian Times over a cup of tea. It was a shabby little home nestled into a nook of Zenobia's slums, but it was cozy, warm, neat and welcoming.
"I made breakfast," her mother said lovingly, eyes fixed on the article still, no doubt retaining the words as she spoke to her daughter.
"Not hungry, Mom," Ana replied, kissing her on the cheek, heading for the door.
Ana's mother looked over her shoulder at her oldest daughter as she grabbed her coat from the rack. "Stay away from those left-wing, hooligan friends of yours!" her mother yelled out to her as she dashed out the door.
The streets of Zenobia were bustling that particular morning. Buildings, trees, structures and rooftops towered over power lines and into the sky. Bikes, strangely built cars and trucks filled the busy streets. Some were paved or stone, others were run down dirt roads, usually in a series of gritty backstreets networking the outermost corners and reaches of the slums. Far beyond the cluttered, towering groupings of buildings, the massive structures and sky scrappers of the inner core of Zenobia loomed on the horizon like pillars of the heavens, watching over the poverty, despair and corruption that ensued every day amidst the outer slums...
MJ Saulnier
Presents...
Inspired by Squaresoft's Body of Work From 1987-1999
Dedicated to Hironobu Sakaguchi, and Final Fantasy fans everywhere
Presents...
Inspired by Squaresoft's Body of Work From 1987-1999
Dedicated to Hironobu Sakaguchi, and Final Fantasy fans everywhere
Post edited by locochoco#7652 on
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Sands of Zenobia
Ana dashed through the crowded, busy streets. Posters, banners, post-it adds and flyers were pasted, hung and tacked all over the city. In windows, on walls, utility poles, news stands, hanging from wires and cables strung from building to building, and on billboards laid out everywhere. People in fancy, new world cloths walked or drove vehicles about the tight streets, shopping and going about their business. The inner slums were booming on that sunny Saturday morning.
She stopped as she passed a television set in the window of an upscale home electronics shop, just outside the core of the city. She leaned against the glass, listening to the sound of the picture machine. It was a simple recording of a woman conducting an interview on a news program. News feeds were the only thing you could get in the slums, and the news was filtered propaganda.
"Efforts continue today in the signing of energy contracts that will allow Zenobia Prime to construct reactors and generators, virtually over the houses of land owners in the slums. Dozens of city blocks have had to make way for the massive project, forcing thousands of residents out of their homes if these contracts are signed. Why should people give up their homes for these new reactors, Mr. Ducrinus?"
"Excellent question. One year from now if those very same people didn't have power to cook, or listen to their radios, they would be crying, asking why we didn't build enough reactors to meet the energy demand in the slums."
Sarovoc Ducrinus, brother of Lucious Durcinus, acting Emperor of Zenobia. Sarovoc was the President of Zenobia Prime, an umbrella corporation inside the framework of the Zenobian Government housing MiraTech, the corporation that controls all of Zenobia's energy supply. They are a big time technology powerhouse that is responsible for everything technologically advanced in Zenobia, and the majority of the continent.
"Shouldn't believe what you hear on the news."
Ana turned around, smiling.
"Jin!"
Jin was her best friend, and ally in the resistance. He stood 5'9, a few inches taller than her. He had a lean build, brown eyes, and scruffy black hair coming down to his brow. He wore a black and red leather coat, just like hers over a simple white shirt and jeans with scruffy white shoes. They both wore buttons and patches clipped onto and sown into the thick leather fabric. They were a variety of rebellious and antigovernmental slogans, resistance logos, and a few Rebel Radio patches. On the back and shoulders, was a homemade crest hand woven into the fabric. This was their resistance patch. Their symbol of freedom and justice. A depiction of Zenobia's core, as seen from the reaches of the slums, and a white dove flying free in the skies around it.
"The others are waiting," he said. "Let's not keep them."
She nodded, walking with him under the far peaks of Zenobia's core.
Ana sat at the top of the large, dome-shaped roof of a metallic structure. She hugged her knees tightly, gently shivering in the cool, evening air. Her skirt left the bare, flawless skin of her pale legs exposed to the nippy, chilling breeze.
Next to her, leaning back with his legs crossed, was Jin. Kato to his right, followed by Willow Kensington on the far end.
The Zenobian Resistance. Four free spirited kids looking to change the world with the strength of their hearts, and the will of their ambition. Lead by Jin, co-founded by Ana, they spent their days day dreaming, studying, seeking knowledge and truth. Working menial jobs, plotting the demise of Zenobia Prime and the Ducrinus Administration, and hanging out here, just outside the core of the city. They wasted days and nights away, dreaming of a better world, a better time and place, when people their age didn't have to crusade against their own people, and stand alone against the powers that be. Four kids... Just doing what they can to ensure a safer, better Zenobia for all. Not just those locked away in the grand towers of the core, enjoying the greedy, corrupt lap of luxury, ignorant to the horror that dwells just beyond the cold steel walls of their paradise.
Ana's eyes were fixed intently upon a large, outdoor television screen mounted above a large intersection just inside the walls and defenses of the inner core. The sound it produced glided through the moist evening air toward them, reaching their ears at a level barely audible. It was evening yet, and the city was still booming with an array of sound that distorted and interrupted its playful waves as they danced through the sky.
"Welcome to Zenobia. We hope you enjoy..."
Kato stood up, casting his gaze to the sky. He was a young man, only nineteen. He was short, and filthy, wearing baggy shorts, high cut black boots, and a dirty, baggy red shirt that hung in agony around his skinny frame. His raggedy, ripped and stained jacket was tied around his waist, and over his bushy, messy blonde hair, he wore a red cap backwards.
Willow, the youngest of them all glanced up at him, and back at the television. She was only seventeen. An orphan like Kato, and practically his sister. She had long, beautiful red hair that surrounded her pale, freckled face. She wore her jacket zipped up to the neck, and a comfy pair of black sweat pants with white shoes.
"Tomorrow is the big day, Kato. I understand if you're not ready," Jin said compassionately.
"Hey, I'll be there," Kato snapped defensively. Out of them all, Kato was probably the most passionate about their cause, in-that he harbored the most hatred and resentment toward the government, and Zenobia Prime.
"Alright," Jin said, eyes fixed on the television set. "Tomorrow, we blow Zenobia Prime off the map."
"No."
"And that Zenobia's Armed Forces are not currently engaged in military action against other nations?"
"Absolutely not! Our affairs with other nations are better than they've ever been..."
In the peaceful, quiet town of Pelgrin, the night was setting in slowly, and the hustle and bustle of the day was winding down to a halt. In the quiet, somber streets, the sound of a large explosion shook the tiny community to the core. Smoke, dust, rubble, and screams of pain, confusion and terror filled the air. More bombs exploded, causing mass chaos and confusion as residents spilled into the streets from their crudely built, stone and wooden houses. Zenobian soldiers flooded the crowded, chaotic streets in organized tactical units, firing weapons, throwing grenades, killing, beating and destroying everything in sight. They moved with precision, and calculation, to exterminate the tiny, peaceful village. Men with swords, axes and bows fought fiercely in the exchange to defend their home, but their efforts fell short and in vane as the bullets commissioned by Zenobian soldiers cut through them like hot knives slicing through butter.
The scene was morbid and horrific as the Zenobian troops worked tirelessly to kill every last man woman and child, and torch every last structure that stood in the once quiet, somber town.
Ana took a deep breath of the night air, exhaling slowly. She stood with Jin, Kato, and Willow outside of the Zenobia Prime Building, all wearing heavy backpacks around their shoulders.
It's outer frame reached high into the sky. It was designed and constructed using state of the art architecture. It's steely, enormous curves and features were menacing and gloomy. It represented everything that was wrong with Zenobia. All of the greed, deceit, violence, corruption, and injustice.
"You all know what to do," Jin said sternly. Kato nodded, and the four parted ways, with Kato and Willow quickly disappearing down a manhole, and Jin dashing across the parking lot toward the side of the building.
Ana took one more brief moment to gaze upon the object of her resentment and hatred before she darted for the other side of the building. Her role was parallel to Jin's. Use the map to locate the second generator room, plant the explosives and get out of there. Jin was to cover the first generator, and Kato and Willow were supposed to handle the third.
Jin insisted that Ana stay with him, and that they delay the explosives to give them time to cover the second generator, but Ana put her foot down, insisting the explosives be synchronized and the generators covered simultaneously.
That was the plan. . .
Thinking back to that night, I don't remember much. The details become blurry when the moment has passed. It all happened so fast, I didn't have time to think, or even react.
I remember them, the time we spent together that night. I remember fear, and adrenaline. Dark hallways and strange passages. I remember being confused by the map. It's a different experience when you're studying blueprints from the comfort of your bed.
I remember smoke and fire, the cool, fresh night air. But mostly, I remember him. His hand taking mine before I could pull it away. I remember Jin calling my name as I was dragged away. He looked kind of silly in that clothing with that sword strapped around his back, but he felt threatening and dangerous too. I remember him holding me in his arms as I struggled to break free. . .
I remember wishing I had died that night, instead of them...
Jin fumbled with the explosives, his adrenaline raging out of control, and his nerves resting on the edge of insanity. They were about to kill a lot of people, regular employees, not just the corrupt masterminds.
The lighting was dim, the air was hot and heavy, and the generator produced a loud, mechanical hum that only added to the pressure of the situation.
He placed the bundled dynamite with a timed device strapped to it in one of the grooves of the massive, noisy machine. He hit detonate, and was startled to see a ten second timer begin to count down.
His mind raced. His black market contact assured him they were set up for a ten minute timer. Jin had stressed the importance of that more than once, and he had clearly been screwed.
He began to panic. As he stood up, he heard Ana shout his name to his horror and dismay. He looked over at her, thinking to himself that it couldn't have been any worse.
Ana stood helplessly, confused and concerned by the look of horror on Jin's face. She had read the map all wrong. She got scared and got ahead of herself, ended up at the first generator room instead of the second.
She blew it. Botched everything.
She felt a hand firmly grab her own, yanking her backwards. Jin screamed her name as she resisted and turned to face her captor.
He was a young man with long blonde hair, and striking blue eyes. He wore a long decorative sword across his back with navy slacks, and a black tunic under heavy steel armor that covered his left breast, arm, and hand. His attire was barbaric and primitive to her, although she could find exotic beauty in the craftsmanship. It had a single, sapphire blue strip of decorative cloth that hung from the rear shoulder of the plate armor, which was extended in the back to further protect the wearer's vitals, and facilitate his sword's sheath. He was an outsider. No way he worked for Zenobia Prime.
She struggled, protesting her being dragged away and parted from Jin when she knew something was wrong.
"No!"
No sooner did the word escape her lips and the thought crossed her mind, an explosion jarred her body and senses, thrusting Ana and her captor into the solid steel wall. Rubble pelted her body as smoke and dust filled the dark corridors. She nearly lost consciousness, and felt him hoist her over his shoulder, carrying her the rest of the way. As she came around she began to sob, calling Jin's name, realizing he was dead, and she had left him behind.
He struggled up a sewer ladder, and let her down as they reached the cool night air. She scrambled to her feet and tried to run back toward the smoking manhole, but he wrapped his arms around her, and held her tight.
They both fell to their knees as she wept in his arms, resisting him.
"He's gone," he said softly, "he's gone..."
"It's about choice, my friends. The choice to live free of oppression and corruption. To be afforded the same protection, securities, luxuries and privileges as those who live in the core.
We must rise above our oppressors and fight for our freedom. Storm the gates, spill the blood of our brothers who have forgotten and abandoned us. Locked us out, and cast us aside.
They've written us off my brothers and sisters! They've turned their backs on us, and built their walls and towers high. But this I say to you, my friends, my comrades: Take for yourselves what is fair and right. Always we will fight. Light of day or dark of night. Always freedom in our sight...
Never back down, there are fellow freedom fighters all around you, hidden in plain sight. Seek and you will find. Keep the faith, have hope and courage. Stay smart, and you will be fighting the fight all the same. Our enemy is clever, and strong... But so are we, in our own right. In fact, we are even stronger! This is Stryker, coming to you from your one and only, Rebel Radio..."
All across the slums, millions of radios were tuned in to Stryker's transmission. He was the faceless leader of a desperate, broken city. A symbol of hope and freedom. A voice of truth. He was their hero.
Ana's head was spinning, her heart was pounding, and her stomach was squirming as he lead her through a series of dark, unfamiliar backstreets in the slums. He held her hand tightly, aggressively, and belted her mind with a lengthy speech giving her information and instructions.
"Listen to me carefully, Ana. They'll come for you, and they'll never be too far behind you. Zenobia isn't safe anymore. They'll find out who you are, kill your friends and family, everyone you know and love until they find you, or leave you so broken and far from Zenobia you might as well be dead. . .Head east, through the desert. It's a long haul, but help and water will accompany the road east until you reach Odessa. I'll meet you there at the inn."
He stopped and turned to face her.
"They know who I am and they are already looking for me, so I can't be near you until we reach Odessa. You have a chance to escape. Find an old friend, someone you don't see often. Lay low until morning and then get out of Zenobia. Do you understand?" he asked her intently.
She didn't respond, still in pain, shock, and mourning. And so he shook her gently.
"Zenobia isn't safe anymore!" he yelled as he walked backwards away from her. "Odessa Inn!"
"What's your name?!" she asked him before he was out of sight in the dark, gritty backstreets.
He stopped, turning around, ". . .Edge," he replied, disappearing down an alleyway.
Stryker was finished shutting his equipment down to go silent for the night, and stop his transmission to prevent the Ducrinus Administration from locating the source. His transmissions were short, to stop Lucious from getting a trace on his location. The operation had remained hidden for years, spanning nearly a decade, and reaching tens of millions of Zenobians, desperate for the truth, desperate for hope, for a leader to follow. Someone to inspire them, bring their dreams of freedom and a better life a little closer to reality.
A knock fell upon the heavy iron door of his secluded, hidden home. He turned his head quickly, letting his right hand rest on the handle of a pistol he wore around his thigh. He was a tall, lean man with Long black hair that hung over a red bandana in spikes and locks. At the back of his head, his hair was tied in a bushy ponytail.
He approached the door slowly. No one should have been at his door at all, let alone at this hour, just after a broadcast. You couldn't run from Agents, but he was prepared to fight his way into an escape, or die a martyr. Either was fine with him. He'd fought for Hector Ducrinus, witnessed and committed horrors that still haunted him. But he realized the error of his ways, and devoted the rest of his life to making a difference. To resisting the Ducrinus Administration, and bringing the truth to the Zenobian people. He could die knowing he did what he could, but of course, that was plan B.
He slid the cover away from the tiny peephole and saw what looked like a tiny blonde angel shivering in the nippy evening air. He unlocked the door in three different places and opened it quickly. A beautiful young woman stood before him, shaking gently, with tears streaming down her perfect cheeks.
"Ana," he said with surprised confusion and concern for the state she was in, or even that she'd shown up at his door.
She swallowed so she could speak, but the words were strangled by the grief in her voice.
"Jin's dead."
Edge charged down a dark, narrow ally. His breathing was heavy and his heart threatened to blow as it pounded in his chest. In the distance, the sound of sirens pitched across the sky as soldiers flooded the streets, searching high and low for the escaped terrorists. They blocked all exits into and out of Zenobia, setting up check points to monitor and regulate all traffic leaving both the core, and the slums. Soldiers operating large armored vehicles and mobile missile deployment trucks lingered at the check points and stalked the streets while homes and businesses were raided and searched.
The streets were still relatively busy. It was late evening yet, and light traffic and crowds still roamed the streets of the outer slums. Edge had reached one of the main streets in Zenobia, stretching from the southern most point of the city, spanning north for miles into the core's high class downtown districts.
He lurked in the shadows, sizing up the street. There were citizens on the opposite side walking north, and a group of three teenagers heading south on his side of the road. Beyond them he set his gaze on a lone Zenobian soldier riding a hover bike designed for desert travel. The soldier was approaching slowly, intimidating the people with the slow, menacing crawl of his iron horse as he patrolled the streets of the slums. The kids were approaching too fast, and they would end up between him and the soldier by the time Edge had the chance to make his move.
He spread his back against the wall, taking full cover of the shadows and waited the situation out. As they grew closer, he could make out the conversation they were having.
"I say they're just muscling us so they can build their reactors," a young man said to the others, hands buried in his pockets as he strolled down the street.
"Wouldn't surprise me one bit," another boy said cynically, smoking a cigarette.
A young girl walked between them. She seemed to have more energy than the boys, more spunk in her spirit.
"Whatever," she said, snatching the cigarette from the cynic's lips, flicking it into the street.
"Hey, Shestah!"
At that moment the trooper called out to the kids and turned his bike toward them, pulling closer to the sidewalk.
The three teens turned around, and when they matched eyes with a Zenobian soldier, the cynical smoker attempted to bolt south down the street. As he turned to make an honest break for home, Edge emerged from the shadows with haste and force, pushing the poor kid aside. He bumped into Shestah as Edge rushed the unprepared trooper, smacking him across the face with the blunt side of his sword, swinging with all his might.
The trooper hit the pavement, unconscious and Edge mounted the bike, pushing its small engine to the limit.
Shestah and her companions stood in awe as he raced down the street, cutting an intersection fiercely before disappearing out of sight.
"Holy ****," Shestah said plainly, a twinkle of admiration shining in her big brown eyes.
"We should go," the cynical smoker said with both fear and excitement, looking down at the KO'd Zenobian trooper.
"Yeah," the other boy replied quickly, and three ran away into the night leaving the trooper there in the street.
"Negative, I'm on foot. Guy stole my unit. Son of a **** broke my nose. I need a medic."
"Copy that, trooper. He just jumped our check-point. Smooth move, asshole."
Sarovoc stood beside a large brown horse preparing to mount it. He wore an ear piece with a small microphone listening to the conversation.
He froze, closing his eyes and let a sigh pass from his lips.
"Stand down."
"Copy that, Sir."
Sarovoc walked away from the horse, leaving the stable. He dialed a number into a hand-held device and awaited an answer.
"Hello?"
"Victor."
"Sarovoc..."
"We have a situation."
Ana sat on Stryker's old, musty orange sofa. It matched the rusted, oxidized iron walls of his humble little abode. A hoarse brown blanket was thrown across her shoulders, and she held a cup of hot cocoa in her hands. She was distraught, distant, and weeping softly. Stryker sat across from her on the edge of a desk, arms crossed. He gazed upon her with heartbreaking compassion. She was just a girl, no older than twenty-two. She was sweet, innocent, and so beautiful. She deserved so much better from life, from herself. She was the most unlikely resistance fighter he could picture in his mind. She should have gone to university, met a nice boy from the core who could give her a nice life. She was Zenobia's very own long lost Princess. How she ended up at his door that night, he could only imagine.
"What happened, Ana?" he asked softly, his rough exterior brushing the surface of his tone. She wept harder.
"We tried to hit Zenobia Prime, and," she tried to explain, but he cut her off, raising his voice.
"Wait. That was you? Ana, what happened?" He asked her sternly. How could Jin have gotten himself into such a mess? That dumb kid was too smart for something like this. Stryker's mind struggled to accept that a kid he had mentored and looked out for would go so far as to attack a building within the core. And what was worse? He dragged the girl into it.
"She could be the future of the rebellion,"
Stryker recalled Jin saying. He had a faith in the girl that was unshakable. Unbreakable. And what Stryker found odd was that it never seemed to be a romantic thing. The girl was beautiful, and when he had met Ana, he dismissed that faith as young lust. But he really had taken their fight to the enemy. He had died for it, and she had been left in his wake. She looked up at him, shaking and replied.
"Something went wrong. They're all dead. Jin, Kato... Willow." She burst into tears, lowering her head. "And I wanted to stay - I wanted to, but he wouldn't let me!"
"Who wouldn't let you?"
"Edge!" she yelled back, looking up at him. He stood up as she did so.
"Edge Widowmaker?!"
Ana lowered her head again, and Stryker began to pace back and forth in front of her.
"Oh god, Ana. This guy is dangerous! He's not to be trusted. You're lucky he didn't..."
Ana looked up at him again.
"No, Stryker it's not like that. He saved my life!"
"Edge Widowmaker only 'saves' lives when he has something to gain. Thought that son of a **** was dead by now. In fact I was sure of it," he grumbled almost beneath his breath. He was enthralled in thought as Ana stood up behind him, placing the cocoa on the small coffee table.
"I have to go, I have to get to Odessa," she said frantically. Stryker squinted his gaze and approached her.
"What?! No, Ana!"
"Yes, he'll know where Willow is, right? He probably saved her too. I have to go." She headed for the door, but Stryker grabbed her right arm, pulling her close to him, and wrapped his right arm around her gently.
"You're not going anywhere, kid. Not tonight."
She turned into his chest and let all of her pain, sorrow, and guilt flow freely.
He felt awkward, being almost twice her age. Still he held her. Still he comforted her and stroked her silky blonde hair as she dumped the weight of her shattered heart onto his chest.
Sarovoc stood before his brother, looking around with irritation. He was defensive and annoyed. He nodded. Locking eyes with Lucious. Lucious was an older man with grey hair and an aged, wrinkling face. He wore a fine suit with a long black coat. His gaze was scrutinizing, and his brow stern.
"Deal with this yourself, brother. I have greater concerns than four dead kids in your basement," Lucious said as he got up from his seat, walking passed Sarovoc.
Sarovoc sighed, lowering his head.
"All four aren't dead," he said with a sense of shame and failure.
Lucious stopped, closing his eyes, lifting his head with annoyed frustration.
"What happened, Sarovoc?"
"The mercenary helped one of them escape."
Lucious spun around swiftly, scolding Sarovoc with his cold eyes. The same eyes their father used to scold them with. Hector was a vile man. A real violent, judgement bastard. He didn't let up until the day he died, clawing his way into the afterlife over a three day period struggling on life support. And even today the scars he left on their mind and body still haunted them, judging and picking apart their every move from the shallow grave he lay in. No one mourned the loss of Hector Ducrinus, because he had stricken anyone he had met with resent and hatred.
"I'm in the process of locating them now," Sarovoc explained, holding Edge's escape from the city close to his chest. He wasn't game for the condescending bullshit he'd inevitably face from his brother. Truth was, deep down inside he hated Lucious, and resented his being made Emperor based on age alone when he believed he was better suited to lead Zenobia.
Lucious was so disgusted he didn't even speak, only gave him a fatal look that was both immanent and threatening as he turned from him and walked away.
Sarovoc gritted his teeth, feeling a wave of rage in Lucious' wake. He dialed a number and waited for an answer.
"Lyra, here."
"Find the boy!" he yelled with hatred. "He dies, you die with him. I want him alive so I can watch him die myself!"
He hung up in Agent Lyra's ear, throwing his hand-held device against a large window that overlooked Zenobia from thousands of feet in the air.
Ana awoke in Stryker's bed. The white sheets were musty and cold. She shivered as she became aware of her surroundings. There were machines, mechanical equipment, and large bundles and lengths of random wiring scattered all over the room. The walls were rusted and showed signs of water leaking from the edges of the ceiling, staining the metallic surface in waves. Bright, translucent rays of sunlight peeked through a tiny circular window on a downward angle. Sitting on a small night table to her left was an old, black and white photo of a young man and woman. They were smiling, cheek to cheek. She sat up in the bed, letting her legs hang over the edge of the mattress. She picked up the picture, and upon closer examination, she was able to determine that the man was Stryker.
She placed the picture back on the table as it was, noticing a glass of water sitting idly, and took a drink, soothing her dry mouth and throat. She stretched, allowing a big yawn that helped shake off the sleepiness. As she loosened her muscles, she felt sharp pains all over her upper body from neck to ribcage. She cringed, clutching her ribs and shoulder. She slowly, painfully lifted her shirt, exposing the pale flesh of her tiny body. She was bruised and scraped badly, and it made the pain seem so much worse. That's when she took notice of three small white pills laying next to the glass of water. She hadn't remembered coming in the room, or going to sleep. She must have passed out on Stryker, and he carried her in here, and left the medication for her, anticipating her morning after agony.
For a moment, she pondered whether or not he checked her body for wounds, but quickly realized her legs were badly scraped and bruised as well.
She reached for the pills, exchanging hands, and then the glass, as not to overextend her hurting body. She downed the pills with trouble, having to lean back and spare her neck the strain, but her ribs and lower back hurt nevertheless.
She chugged the entire glass of water and lowered her head, holding the cup in her lap. She almost wanted to cry, but she remembered Edge, his instruction.
"Odessa Inn!"
She had to get moving. Find a way out of the city. Maybe it was early enough that she could slip out past Stryker. He had already done enough, risked so much for a stranger. They had only briefly met on several occasions through Jin. It wasn't like he knew her. And yet he risked life and limb to harbor and care for her.
She strained to hug herself, rubbing her arms as she shivered in the cool morning air. Zenobia was hot during the day, and blistering cold during the night. Every morning was bitterly cold. It sunk into flesh and bone, chilling to the core. Wood stoves and coal furnaces were required to maintain heat during the night through crude ventilation systems. She missed her home, her warm cozy bed and soft purple sheets. She missed her mother's cooking and warm smile. She missed her sister, her dog, and her friends.
She pulled herself together, pushing herself off the firm, springy mattress and onto her feet. Her perfectly toned legs didn't approve, but it wasn't open for debate. She had to get going. She had to find Edge, he'd know what to do, where to go. She felt so alone. Her mind kept wondering toward Stryker, he was all she had in that moment, but she knew she had to leave. She couldn't burden the man anymore than she already had. So she pressed on, clinging to the walls for support as she tried to work the kinks and irks out of her legs.
She passed through a doorway, slipping through the slightly open door as quietly as possible. As she passed through the doorway, she could smell the aroma of eggs and bacon. She could hear the sizzling and light clanging of utensils. Stryker was already awake and preparing breakfast. Just her luck...
Stryker stood in his small, sorry excuse for a kitchen. There was a tiny fridge, a beat up old stove which he hovered over, and a small sink with hardly any counter space. He wore the same militant cloths he had on the night before with a white towel tossed over his right shoulder.
He turned as he sensed a presence enter the room behind him.
Ana stood just beyond the hallway, holding her left arm. He could see the pain all over her face, and it broke his heart.
"Sit down," he said protectively, walking over to her. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and tummy, walking with her over to the sofa. There was an old pillow and blanket sprawled across the cushions where Stryker had slept the night before. Just by the naked eye, she could tell he had been cramped and uncomfortable. A wave of guilt washed over her already exhausted emotional state. She felt as though she was imposing, putting the man out somehow. He helped her sit down as she cringed yet again, having to bend her knees and stress her back muscles as she sat down.
"I have to go, Stryker," she pleaded desperately, glancing up at him with tears forming in her gorgeous green eyes.
He stared back at her with compassion and sympathy.
"We're gonna go to Odessa, Ana. But not before you get something in your belly." He gently ran his fingers along the soft skin of her right cheek, brushing her hair behind her ear and returned to the stove to tend to the eggs and bacon.
"I can't ask you to come with me, you've done too much," Ana tried to explain to him, but he cut her off, turning around.
"You're not asking. I'm telling you. You'll never make it to Odessa alone in the shape you're in. I'm not letting you die out there, Ana. If you think for a second I'm gonna let you go out into the desert alone and wounded, you've got me all wrong." He went back to cooking as Ana lowered her head, accepting defeat with open arms. She knew she'd never make it alone. She didn't even know where Odessa was.
Stryker prepared her a heaping plate of food, and presented it before her.
"Eat up, kiddo. Then we get you to Odessa," he said with a charming smile.
She painfully reached for the fork, lifted the plate over her lap and stuffed her bruised belly.
Ana followed Stryker through the hot, dusty backstreets of the outer slums. The sun pounded down on the desert city with an unforgiving malice. It was almost high noon, and her leather jacket was becoming more of a burden with each step she took.
Stryker was armed to the teeth under his long brown duster. He wore black, fingerless gloves and a pair of round sunglasses. He was so obvious, she wondered how he managed to elude the Zenobian Empire for so long. Then again, she was fairly obvious in that red and black jacket. Everyone around the slums knew Ana. Kids, shop keepers, students and teachers, mailmen, everyone from the south western districts knew her by name, or by her long blonde hair, angelic face, and that trademark leather jacket.
Red was a symbol of resistance. It represented the blood of the Zenobian people who died in the last civil war. 134 years ago, the people of the slums rose up against the Emperor, Tyranus Ducrinus, Lucious' great grandfather. They waged war on the core and were slaughtered by the thousands. The war only lasted a few months before the people surrendered, but they have been fighting that war in their hearts ever since.
He led her down a series of unfamiliar streets. Even after 21 years of walking these streets, she found areas of the city she had never been before. You see, Zenobia was simply massive. From above, she imagined it looked endless, stretching into the horizon and beyond. there were millions upon millions of residents in Zenobia, only about a million of them registered citizens with rights and privileges like healthcare, the right to vote, speak freely in public, and practice any kind of religious or spiritual beliefs. Those people lived in the core. Residents of the slums were treated as less than human. There were no police here, no firefighters, or government establishments or services of any kind. People had to provide services like hospitals, fire prevention, and other vital functions themselves. But these services are illegal to provide without a license or permit, and only citizens were eligible for them. The only right to service the people of the slums were afforded was the right to trade goods for gil, or other goods. And the government still stuck their nose in, making it as hard as possible for shop owners to make a living and keep their doors open. Murder wasn't even against the law in the slums, unless a citizen was killed by a resident of the slums, or by another citizen. It was a lawless wasteland where people had to band together to protect each other and survive. Some districts were worse than others. Ana was from District 93 which was generally safe and civilized. But others like 98, or 81 were total chaos.
The painkillers were working. She felt a little strange, but the pain had lessened to a reasonable degree, and as she worked through the burn, it became easier to walk.
Stryker took her by the hand to her surprise and led her down a dark, narrow alleyway between two shanty, poorly constructed buildings. She gazed around the environment with anxiety as she saw old, used condoms, and dirty needles on the ground around her feet. Broken glass and cigarette butts littered the filthy nook of Zenobia's underbelly. The alley gave way into an opening surrounded by abandoned buildings. Stryker brushed his duster aside and let his right hand rest on his six shooter as bums, dregs and junkies watched them wearily as they passed by. The smell alone made Ana sick, but the very appearance of the vagrants startled her senses. She had never been this deep into the filth of Zenobia, although she knew it was there.
They passed through a door into a dark, musty and moldy building. He led her down a long corridor. The floor was wet from water dripping from the ceiling. At the end of the corridor, there was a massive hole in the wall that led straight out into the desert.
Stryker stopped, letting her hand go.
"This is an old passage smugglers and rebels have been using for almost fifty years," he said with a low tone of voice. He led the way slowly, peeking his head out and looking around cautiously. "Zenobian troops might be patrolling the desert, so we have to move fast."
Ana swallowed her anxiety like a lump in her throat and followed Stryker out into the light.
The desert was sweltering. She could feel the heat radiating off of the sand in waves. The sun's rays glistened off of every grain, straining her eyes. She had never been outside of Zenobia before, and the anxiety she had swallowed forced its way out of her stomach and into her chest, gripping her poor heart with fear. It was real now. She was leaving her home. Her mother. Her little sister. Everything she had come to know and love.
"The boy has escaped the city, and whilst we can't say for certain, it's safe to assume she has escaped as well," Sarovoc explained, leaning back in his throne-like office chair. It screamed narcissism, speaking to his deeply seeded aspirations of becoming Emperor, and his delusions of grandeur.
"I want them alive, Victor, no screw ups."
Victor nodded, blinking slowly.
"With the boy, it's personal. The girl, not so much, but she'll make a lovely pet, wouldn't you agree?"
"She's a beautiful girl," Victor said with a grin, examining her flawless facial structure and gorgeous blonde hair.
"Yes, she'll look even better chained to my bedside," Sarovoc said bluntly, standing up from his chair, walking over to a large window that overlooked the city from the 125th floor of Zenobia Prime. "The boy I want most of all, so make him your priority. We have something to finish. Call it a warrior's vendetta," he continued, gazing out over the city lights and into the horizon. "There is a certain obligation to end a man's life after he tries to take your own."
"I wouldn't know," Victor said, glancing to his left at Sarovoc, taking full advantage of his opportunity to rub it in deep.
Sarovoc took a deep breath, resisting his violent impulses. "Every team and unit in the army has these photographs, but I can no more rely on them to succeed than I can rely on you to fail," he turned to face Victor, "Correct?"
Victor brushed his pant leg off and nodded, matching Sarovoc's gaze. "My team and I will locate these kids, and return them in one piece. But we'll expect payment."
Sarovoc's eyes narrowed and a grin masked his anger. He knew what Victor was driving at, because he knew every card in the man's deck. They were cut directly from the same cloth.
"We work for the Empire, not Zenobia Prime."
"Things can change, old friend, and they can change fast," Sarovoc said blankly, turning back to the window, hands cupped behind his back.
Victor's brow tightened and he took a moment of deep thought before shaking the sinister notion for the task at hand. He stood up from his seat. "The kid known as Edge, Leo is already on his trail. He's headed for Odessa. Lyra's flying there to intercept him as we speak. Tank and I will focus on this girl. Ana, you said her name was?"
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
Victor headed for the door. "We'll be in touch."
Ana sat in the sand with Stryker's duster covering her bare legs and the zipper of her jacket done up to the chin. She shivered as the sun set. She firmly regretted choosing a skirt again the morning before. She could never have anticipated spending an entire night in the desert. Truth was, she was uncomfortable, home sick and terrified. Still devastated and in shock from the night before. But she blocked it out, keeping the thought of her friends as far from her mind as possible. But the memories would flood back in flashes when she let her focus slip, weighing heavy on her emotions like a vice around her heart, tightening every so often. It didn't help that Stryker had left her alone to gather materials for the fire and perhaps procure some food or a source of nutrition for the journey tomorrow morning. The sun was going down, the air was cooling off and she didn't feel safe anymore. But the large rock formation behind her, and the high dune in front of her would provide decent cover from the elements and any Zenobian troops that may pass by.
As she leaned forward into the warm radius of a small fire, hugging her legs, shaking gently, a tall figure emerged in the corner of her eye to the left. She examined it, assumed it was Stryker, and stood up, intending to help him with whatever he had gathered. Upon a closer look, the shape was very tall, dark, and wide. Stryker was a lean man, tall, but not that tall. Even from a distance, the mysterious form looked very large.
As she examined the approaching figure, she heard a mechanical beep and the scratching sound of radio static followed by a muffled, grainy voice.
"Target confirmed. Take her down!"
As she turned around, praying it wasn't so, six Elite Troopers in black, bulletproof body armor emerged from behind the rock formation with automatic weapons at shoulder level. Ana froze with terror. This couldn't be happening, it just couldn't. She hadn't even been out of Zenobia for 24 hours and they had captured her. She should have known better, it all seemed so silly now.
They screamed at her viciously, all at the same time, adding to her fear and sadness.
"Don't move!"
"Get down, now!"
"Hands in the air!"
"Face in the sand!"
"Down, now!"
"Ana Grace! On your knees. Keep your hands where I can see 'em!"
So many different instructions, it was confusing, but she had no choice but to comply as best she could. They would hurt her, shoot her, or worse. She thought for a moment that she would have been safer in Zenobia, as opposed to the damn desert. She was a needle in hay stack within the city, but she stuck out like a sore thumb in the desert. She had made their job so much easier.
Ana dropped to her knees, hands at her sides avoiding eye contact. She was terrified, and kept thinking they were going to hit her and beat her up. She was worried they would kick her, or strike her face with the butts of their guns. She just didn't want them to hurt her.
The leader of the group whispered instructions to two of the other men while the remaining three held their guns on her chest. The red dots dancing across her breasts scared her to death. She was in tears, sobbing uncontrollably as the leader approached her with a pair of handcuffs. He was rough with her as he slapped them on, pulling on her arms carelessly, locking them so tight they bit into her skin.
When he was done, he stood up, placing the heel of his boot on the back of her head and pushed her face first into the sand. As she tried to roll over, one of the troopers yelled at her again.
"Stay still! Face down!"
She pulled her knees up to her chest, weeping into the sand. It was over. Stryker would come back, they'd kill him in a fire fight, and bring her back to Zenobia. She'd be executed, or spend the rest of her life in a Zenobian prison, raped and beaten until she was old and grey, or dead.
All she wanted was to go home. Spend one more night in her bed, kiss her mother one more time, and tell her sister she loved her once more. Why did she have to be the hero? Why did she have to take matters into her own hands? None of it mattered now, it was done, and she had to face the music. A feeling of calm began to wash over her. She was still alive, still here to tell their story, and fight another day. Jin, Kato and Willow had paid the ultimate and highest price. She had been spared through it all, despite how bad things seemed.
That's when she felt it. A wave of heat washed over her body, stinging the exposed flesh of her hands and legs. A bloodcurdling scream shot across the desert as bright orange embers danced around, fluttering to the ground as they faded and died. She quickly rolled over to inspect the bizarre commotion.
One of the men was engulfed in flames, rolling around in the sand, kicking and screaming in agony as flame melted fabric to flesh and superheated his body. The other men shouted to one another and scrambled to locate and assess the threat.
Before anyone could make sense of the situation, a bolt of lightning flashed before Ana's eyes, striking one of the men in the chest. The tail of electric energy was gone as soon as it had arrived and a roll of thunder cracked the sky in it's wake as the trooper dropped lifelessly to the sand.
By now the stench of burning flesh and fabric had invaded the air, making Ana gag. She was startled by the sound of rapid gunfire as the four soldiers opened up on something. She followed their aim and to her amazement, she saw a tall, wide man hooded and cloaked in baggy black clothing advancing on the soldiers. The bullets seemed to reflect off of his form, leaving no visible effect on him. The soldiers stepped back as he came closer, and Ana was so terrified she began to pull herself away from them all, crawling and scooting up the dune in a panicked state.
The hooded man began to move faster, gaining quarter on the first soldier. He took two massive strides toward him, his tattered black cloak waving behind him as he grabbed the soldier's assault rifle by the barrel, yanking it from his hands as he landed a swift and powerful push kick to the solar plexus in the same motion. He tossed the gun in the sand as his victim hit the sand hard, grasping his chest.
He continued toward the men at a growing pace, almost jogging now. One of them began to flee, running in the opposite direction as he quickly realized that his weapon was useless against this man, and that horrified him.
The remaining two stood their ground, falling back on their combat training, instead of their firearms. But they were no match for this man.
He lunged forward throwing a vicious, linear tiger palm strike to the face of the left soldier. The speed and force of the strike jarred his spinal column back several inches as he slightly rotated his hand clockwise upon impact, twisting the flesh of his face. The Zeno soldier slumped into the sand, unconscious as his cohort stepped back with his right foot, drawing his sidearm and combat knife. He continued to backpedal as the hooded warrior continued his advance in the unremarkable wake of his colleague. Cradling his right and gun hand wrist over his left, he pressed the firing pin into several rounds which were again defected by the same mysterious force field that seemed to surround his form. As the hooded assailant closed striking distance the Zeno soldier knew he was nearing a similar fate to that of his associates, and he made his move.
The soldier threw his sidearm at the robed warrior's face, ducking in low for a vicious, arcing slice of his combat knife across the abdomen. The robed man dipped his right shoulder, allowing his head to lean to the side, avoiding the path of the now airborne pistol with masterful ease. As the broad blade stroke came in towards his stomach, he snatched the trooper's wrist in his right hand, stepping toward him with his left foot as he twisted his hand to the outside, pulling his wrist toward his right side as he connected with a stiff, left wing chun backfist across the Zeno soldier's jawline, dropping him in spectacular form.
He rose and stilled himself, and in the distance, another bolt of lightning struck the last soldier down as he sprinted through the desert, yet another clap of thunder peeling across the sky.
Ana gazed at the tall, menacing man, frozen with fear and amazement. He looked to his left, locking eyes with Ana. Beneath the hood she could see no face, no flesh, only shadow, and two bright white eyes glaring back at her.
Stryker appeared at the top of the dune, twin pistols drawn and set their marks on the hooded man. As he focused his aim for the top of the skull, he could have sworn he saw a glint of light flash over the cloaked man's figure. It distracted his aim and startled him.
"Ana?" Stryker called out to her with concern. She didn't reply, and he quickly glanced at her to see if she was okay. That's when he spoke. With a hoarse, deep voice he spoke only three words to them.
"Leave this place."
Stryker's gun sights followed him for what seemed like forever as he calmly walked away, back on the path he had been taking before those fine gentlemen had interrupted his travels. Stryker's heart was pounding, and he slowly lowered his weapons as the cloaked stranger got far enough away that he felt the threat was over. He dashed down the side of the dune toward Ana.
"Are you okay?" he asked her intently, cupping her chin in the palms of his hands. She nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Get me out of these," she pleaded, pulling her arms around the right side of her body.
Stryker nodded, getting to his feet and approached the wounded men with his pistols locked and loaded.
"Do you know what this is, Seto?" Henato asked with a smile.
Henato was an elderly man with a flush grey beard and tanned, weathered skin. He leaned forward, holding a sapphire pendant which hung around his neck from a silver chain. It was a deep blue diamond cut perfectly with six sides. Within the core of the gem, an azure light seemed to glow and twinkle when held in shadow. It seemed to hold Seto spellbound as he gazed upon its beauty.
He was a young boy with scruffy, light brown hair and piercing hazel eyes that radiated with youth and innocence. He wore a simple grey, short sleeved shirt with a thick blue tunic held in place by a length of brown cloth tied at the waist. His baggy pants were made of the same grey cloth his shirt was tailored from and tucked just below the knee into tightly bound leather boots.
He shook his head slowly, eyes fixed upon the sapphire charm. Henato pinched his right cheek gently.
"This is a very special stone, Seto. It has been in our family for many, many centuries. It is something our ancestors gave their lives to protect. Nothing is more sacred and valuable to the people of our tribe, Seto. Nothing," he said intently, removing the silver chain from around his neck slowly, with care and discipline. He held it out before young Seto, it's core shimmering as it dangled before him. "My father bestowed this precious pendant around my neck when I was just your age, and now I am bestowing it around yours."
Seto lowered his head as Henato gently placed the necklace around his neck. It was long for him, hanging around his abdomen, and yet it felt weightless! It could have been all in his childish imagination, but he felt as though a sense of empowerment fell over him. A sense of comfort and security.
Henato kneeled down before him, placing both hands on his shoulders.
"You must never lose it, Seto. Protect it with your life, and never let anyone take it from you," Henato said gravely.
Seto nodded several times, paying close attention to his father's words and cupped the mysterious sapphire gem in the palm of his hand...
Edge blazed across the desert as the sun set beyond the horizon. It was getting dark now, and the air was cooling off. But heat still emanated off of the sand which had been heated by the sun's rays all day long. His hover bike, which had been driven flat out for more than a day now was beginning to overheat and die on him. The energy source was dwindling fast and wouldn't last more than a few minutes, then he would be on foot for the rest of the way. But he had made an unscheduled stop, visiting friends at a Bedouin encampment to the south. He was headed for Odessa once again, but the detour had greatly slowed him down. He would now have to shoulder most of the journey on foot, if he couldn't 'procure' another means of travel along the way.
Meeting the girl had changed the plan entirely. It was supposed to be a smooth, in and out operation. Things fell apart fast when Sarovoc Ducrinus fought back, with a sword no less, and got the better of him. Edge had no choice but to retreat before being captured by security, tortured and executed. Running into that girl and her friend in the lower levels of Zenobia Prime was just a wild twist of fate. Another wrench thrown into an already botched operation. Now he was wanted for the attempted assassinated of the Emperor's brother, and that poor girl just got caught up in it all. Wrong place, wrong time. And what were the odds those kids would bomb Zenobia Prime on the same day, at the same time he planned Sarovoc's assassination?
The engine choked, sputtered and ground to a halt, crashing into the sand on a leftward angle. Edge was tossed into the sand, rolling to his knees. He shook the sand off and got to his feet, giving the failed bike a swift kick. It didn't even budge, and Edge plopped in the sand, leaning against it. He had miles to go, and nothing but his feet to take him.
He reached under his faded red Bedouin scarf and beneath the collar of his black, short sleeved shirt and pulled a silver chain out from under the strap of his sword's sheath. It was a dazzling blue pendant.
He studied every familiar trait and memorized detail of the fine, exotic gem as he sat in the sand.
He tucked the necklace back under his shirt and stood up, trekking through the harsh desert toward Odessa.
It was getting dark as Edge made his way across the harsh, cruel desert. The skies were clear and he looked to the stars for guidance. The sands of Zenobia could be confusing when you run out of water. Heat, and dehydration could cause hallucinations and delusion. His pace had become increasingly hurried after discovering that he was being followed. He was still a day and a half away from Odessa and couldn't be sure who was tracking him, or how many there were.
He was scouting for a spot to camp when he sensed a presence behind him; a pair of eyes scanning his form. He spun around quickly, but could see nothing besides dunes of sand and his own footprints. The cool wind howled and whistled across the stoic sands. Some one, or some thing was out there lurking in the dunes. Hunting him like prey.
He grew angry; defiant.
"Show yourself!" He shouted into the arid desert.
He waited, hoped, and still he stood alone.
"Fight me, coward!" he yelled out with more aggression this time.
Edge caught movement in the corner of his right eye. From behind one of the dunes, a young male wearing an eerie, haunting mask slowly rose to his feet. The mask was white, and looked like it had been carved from bone. It perfectly covered the facial area, leaving only the eyes and ears exposed. He had short blue hair and held a metallic spear in his right hand. The base of the shaft rested above his shoulder, and had an expertly crafted, spade-like blade mounted to it. It's razor sharp edge caught the moonlight, drawing Edge's attention.
He thought it strange that the man wore little clothing or armor. His chest was bare, save for a leather strap that held plated armor over his right breast and shoulder. His hands and forearms were wrapped tightly, leaving the fingers bare. His feet were bound in cloth, and he wore baggy, tattered blue and yellow pants tucked into faded gold shin guards.
He approached Edge slowly, making his way to the top of the dune where he stopped, removing a water skin from his gear. He tossed it toward Edge, and it hit him in the chest, falling into the sand.
Edge was confused. He didn't know if the young man was friend or foe.
"Who are you?" he asked intently, not giving proper thought to the water skin.
The man continued toward him, neglecting to answer his question.
Edge was about to speak again when the man lunged forward, pushing off his left foot, pulling back his right hand for a vicious thrust of his spear.
Edge narrowly avoided the attack with a hasty step and sway to the left. He stumbled in the sand, catching himself with his left hand before getting his footing and drawing his sword from his back.
With a spear, the man had range and agility on his side. Edge would have to be patient, and wait for an opening to strike.
The man held his spear with both hands, spreading his legs and bending them at the knee. He took one side-ways step after another toward Edge, waving his spear back and forth. The red, blood-stained tassel blurred into streaks as it danced back and forth toward him. His eyes struggled to follow the tassel, anticipating the coming attack.
With a quick, confusing motion, the head of the spear smacked his sword, toying with him. Again, harder, forcing his sword to the left with startling force. The young man immediately followed up by spinning to his right on his left foot with a long, broad swing of his spear using his right hand. Edge barely managed to duck the attempted decapitation, lunging to his left into a combat roll as the man shifted into a downward thrust after finishing his swing.
Edge was no match for him. He was impeccable; flawless in his form. There was an arrogant calculation and ease to his every movement. His spear was not a weapon wielded, but a part of his body. He was one with the weapon. Edge couldn't win this fight, and he knew it.
"I don't want to fight you!" Edge blurted out.
The man raised his spear for another thrust, but paused as a long, thick needle pierced his neck abruptly. He calmly plucked it loose, lowering his spear slowly as he examined the strange needle.
His focus drifted from the needle to his own body. He dropped the needle, staring intently at his left hand palm, curling his fingers slowly.
Edge was about to strike when the man staggered, losing his balance. As he fell, he used all of his strength and will power to push off his spear, landing on his side, rather than face-down in the sand.
Edge looked around quickly, noticing a strange sight. A cactus with arms, legs, and a pair of eyes. It stood still, glaring at him. He locked eyes with it for several moments, unsure of its intentions.
Suddenly it moved, running off into the desert.
Edge sheathed his sword slowly, heading for the water skin which was still sitting in the sand behind the paralyzed man. There would be no camping tonight. He had a head-start, and he was taking it.
Stryker sat in the sand, tossing pieces of twigs and cactus husk onto a small fire. A ZSF (Zenobian Special Forces) issue machine gun was across his lap and one of their radios along with a pair of long range binoculars sat in the sand beside him.
He watched Ana sleep, the memory of that night playing through his mind like a film reel.
He placed his hands behind his head, laying back in the sand.
"You old fool," he whispered, almost regretting having let her in that night. "Always gotta be the hero."
As he lay there, drawing upon his memories, a voice came over the radio. No ordinary voice, but a voice he knew without question. The smooth, slithering voice of Victor Chimera. Rumored to have been killed in action ten years ago. That soft, calculating, articulate tone couldn't be forgotten or mistaken for another.
"Leo! Answer your goddamn radio! Do not engage him, Leo. Do you understand me? Do not engage. Follow him to Odessa and wait for Lyra. I warned you about this cowboy ****. We need him alive, not hacked to pieces, clinging to life by a thread!"
Stryker picked up the binoculars, scanning around their position.
He couldn't see much of anything out there, and figured it had to be Edge. He was keeping his word to Ana, and they would meet up in Odessa, where Stryker would find out who he really was and why he was carrying around the name of a dead man.
Ana fought to keep up with Stryker as they made their way across the harsh Zenobian desert. Each new step seemed to take a little more energy. Feet sliding through and digging into sand with each stride. The sweltering heat from the sun beating down, only to work its way back up from the sand, suffocating, boiling flesh and bone. It was hell, and one Ana wasn't sure she could take much more of.
Stryker pressed on, determined to reach Odessa with haste. Out here it was fight or die. The battle was against the oldest, greatest adversary of them all. Nature; the elements. He wasn't about to roll over and submit, but the heat was impossible to ignore. He couldn't remember being this hot and exhausted, and he had been pretty hot and exhausted in his day. He was no stranger to this terrain, this unforgiving desert, but this day seemed more malicious than the rest. On this day, the desert was out for blood, and Stryker and Ana may be the victims she claimed.
Ana collapsed to her knees, virtually unable to take another step. Her entire body was coated in a layer of sweat that seemed to boil over her skin. Her muscles ached from head to toe, and simply breathing was a task fit for a behemoth.
"Stryker!" she barely uttered before slipping out of consciousness, falling face-first into the sand.
Stryker turned around and was shocked to see Ana laying in the sand. He rushed to her, his steps sluggish, although hurried. He rolled her over gently, brushing the sweat-soaked sand from her face carefully.
"Oh ****!" he murmured, unsure of how to even proceed. He leaned over her breathing heavily and wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead. Waiting for her to come around wasn't an option. They had to keep moving.
"Okay, come on, kiddo!" he said aloud, hoisting her over his shoulder, struggling to stand upright. He staggered through each step, focusing only on the destination, the mission objective. Like a well-trained soldier, he ignored the pain, heat, exhaustion, and the impossible nature of his task. He simply pressed on, clearing his mind of all distractions with each step deep into the sand beneath his feet.
"Almost there," he repeated over and over again, as if Ana could hear him from over his shoulder. He was really talking to himself. Verbally reaffirming his progress, telling himself he could do it, he was almost there!
His pace slowed greatly, and his mind began to wander amidst strange thoughts. Whether or not he had locked the door to his home. He thought about Rebel Radio, who would keep the spirit of the rebellion alive while he was gone off, dying in the desert.
No! They weren't going to die. They couldn't. They had to reach Odessa. They were almost there!
Stryker stumbled, dropping Ana awkwardly into the sand and fell behind her...
As Ana's eyes focused and she slowly regained her awareness, a large, beady eye glared back at her. For a moment she froze with terror, startled by the creature that loomed over her at a close proximity. She didn't want to move, but on the other hand, she didn't want to be this thing's meal either.
The creature withdrew some, and she was now able to get a better look at it. A large animal with yellow feathers, some colorfully tied or braided around the neck and facial areas. It was clearly saddled, and that meant someone was riding it.
A human-like figure sat atop the creature as it subtly moved about in place. The sun was positioned directly behind the mysterious figure, so she could find no detail.
Before she could speak, the creature produced a noise unlike anything she had ever heard before.
"Wark!"
An awkward moment of terror for Ana. It made a softer, more curious sound.
"Wark?"
The figure dismounted the strange creature as Ana began to drift away from consciousness again...
Stryker came to slowly. He was laying down on his left side. Directly across from him was Ana, sound asleep on a blanket spread over the sand. It was getting dark and much cooler now. After realizing he wasn't in cuffs, he looked over his right shoulder to see what was going on.
A strange man with a deep tan, and a trimmed beard wearing Bedouin robes and a headdress sat across from Stryker with a small but warm fire between them. There were also two chocobos sleeping behind him. One was clearly a high quality yellow breed, while the other was an average yellow breed he had been leading from his own chocobo.
Stryker slowly sat up, assuming there was no threat.
"I am Juakeem Mohinder," the man said with a kind, exotic voice and presence. He pointed to his chocobo. "This is Shae'elle, my best friend and companion."
He turned to the other chocobo.
"And this is Boko, who carried the water which saved your lives. You owe him a debt, and so I give him to you, that you may repay him by glory of battle. For carrying water will bring his family no honor."
Stryker was speechless, but he managed to muster something to show his gratitude. "Thank you..."
Juakeem looked at Ana.
"She needs the rest," he said, looking up at Stryker. "And we must talk."
Stryker nodded.
"This is Ana?"
Stryker nodded again.
"A mutual friend, whom I owe a debt, sent me to help your passage to Odessa."
"Who is he?" Stryker asked.
"The man known as Edge."
"Edge Widowmaker died years ago. Who is he?"
"You ask questions I do not know the answer to."
Stryker sighed, lowering his head.
"I am only here to help your passage to Odessa. I have robes for disguise, some water, and Boko is now yours."
Stryker looked him in the eyes. "Thank you, Juakeem."
"I'm afraid I do not know your name."
Stryker thought for a moment. Normally he would have lied, said his name was Stryker.
"Hans."
Juakeem smiled, offering him some sort of cooked meat. Stryker nodded humbly, hesitantly accepting the food.
Ana slowly opened her eyes. They were heavy from a deep sleep and the exhausting events of the previous day. It was early morning, just before dawn. Stryker knelt before her with a hand resting gently on her shoulder.
"Rise and shine," he said softly with a smile. She peered behind his large figure, taking notice of Juakeem, who was preparing the chocobos for travel. She swallowed hard, glancing intently at Stryker.
"What's going on?" she asked quietly, visibly nervous.
"It's okay. He's a friend, and he saved our lives," Stryker assured her. She looked Shae'elle over nervously, who was bouncing back and forth on her feet, chirping pleasantly.
"What are those things?" Ana asked, glaring at the giant yellow birds. Stryker smiled, looking over his shoulder at Shae'elle and Boko.
"They're called chocobos. And they are usually harmless."
"Usually?"
"These particular ones are domesticated. So you don't have to worry. Okay?"
Ana nodded firmly.
"Okay."
"Come on. Let's get you fed and properly introduced." He took her by the hands, helping her to her feet.
The two approached Juakeem as he secured a brown leather saddle around Boko's torso.
"Juakeem. I'd like you to meet Ana Maria Grace."
Juakeem turned from Boko, smiling wide. He held her left hand gently, respectfully kissing it with a humble bow.
"I am Juakeem Mohinder. This is Shae'elle, and Boko. We are honored to meet you."
Boko pranced around, showing off for Ana. He puffed out his chest, raising his beak high in the air. He spread and fluttered his wings, avoiding eye contact with her, yet he would shoot the odd, quick glance at her to see if she was paying attention to him. He postured proudly for his new master, in the hope that she may find him worthy to ride into battle.
"Wark!" Shae'elle piped up quickly, calmly charging Boko, nudging him with her head, making him stumble a little. He continued to fish for Ana's attention, unaffected by Shae'elle.
"He's magnificent," Ana declared, filled with amazement at the majestic beast before her. "They both are."
Juakeem offered yet another gracious, bowing nod, and what was now clearly his trademark warm smile.
Stryker chuckled at Boko. He too was amazed by the creatures. He even felt a sense of guilt and shame, but the moment at hand took priority.
"Well, he's yours now," Stryker said, folding his arms. Ana swiftly set her gaze upon Stryker, and then Juakeem, who again nodding, confirming Stryker's words.
"What?"
"Yeah. He's your companion now. Should prove invaluable to your travels."
"My travels..." Ana lowered her head in deep, intent thought.
"Just Odessa, for now," Stryker said compassionately.
"But I don't know how to take care of a chocobo," Ana said with a sense of self-doubt.
"Food. Water. Love," Juakeem interjected.
"What do they eat?" Ana asked.
"Mainly gysahl greens. However he will make his tastes known to you," Juakeem answered.
"Okay. I'll do my best," Ana tried to assure him.
"Of this, I am certain," Juakeem replied.
Stryker gathered a pair of robes from the sand near the fire pit. He approached Ana, reaching for the collar of her leather jacket.
"Let's get this burden off your shoulders."
"No," Ana protested, withdrawing a little. "It's fine," she said, forcing a smile. Stryker gave her a look of genuine concern, forcing a smile of his own.
"Okay..."
Boko's talons cut through the sand with ease. Stryker sat atop his back, with Ana right behind him. They wore Bedouin robes in order to disguise their identities from any Zenobian soldiers they may have encountered as they drew nearer to Odessa. Juakeem rode Shae'elle a little ways ahead of them to the right. He slowed down to mirror their speed and ride alongside Boko.
"Do you have a plan once you have reached Odessa?" Juakeem asked.
"We're headed for the Inn," Stryker answered him.
"You are rebels then?"
Stryker grinned, taking a moment to think about it.
"You could say that, yes. But what makes you say that?"
"Odessa Inn is merely a disguise for a rebel outpost. And your friend, Edge. He is a rebel. One can only assume..." he finished with a smile.
Ana thought for a moment.
"What's Odessa like?" she asked curiously. There was a moment of silence; hesitation. Stryker just couldn't lie to her.
"It's the fourth largest city in the Empire," he answered gravely, pausing for a moment. "The Zenobian Empire."
There was a heavy, grim silence now. it loomed in the sweltering air, and the cores of Ana's eyes. They were headed right back into enemy territory. Directly toward hundreds of Zenobian soldiers.
"How could you keep this from me?" Ana asked Stryker calmly.
"I didn't think it was necessary to make things worse for you."
"I had the right to know."
"Hey. This Odessa thing wasn't my idea. I came along to protect you. We're not exactly gonna strut on into town. I'll find a safe way in."
"You mistake me for some common chocobo breeder," Juakeem said, looking at Stryker with a closed-lip smile. "I know a way directly into the compound beneath the Inn."
Stryker smiled wide, shaking his head.
"Thank you, Juakeem."
"So, where are we headed, anyway?" Stryker asked. They had been travelling for two days and could now see the lights of Odessa glowing above the horizon against the night sky.
"Beneath these sands is a solid layer of rock," Juakeem explained. "Our destination is deep within that rock. We must first navigate a long, narrow passage into the outpost from a large rock formation near the city. That formation isn't far now."
There was several moments of silence as the chocobos trotted through the sand.
"May I ask what brought you here?" Juakeem asked.
"It's a long story," Stryker answered.
"I have nothing but time," Juakeem said with a smile.
Stryker looked over his shoulder.
"It's your story, Ana. You should tell it."
She took a deep breath, conjuring the painful memories.
"Well. My friends and I attacked Zenobia. Tried to, anyway. My friends, they didn't make it. I did, thanks to Edge. Stryker helped me escape, and then we met you."
Juakeem tugged Shae'elle's reigns, bringing her to a stop. Stryker then brought Boko to a stop, examining Juakeem. His brow was tightened, and for the first time, his expression was that of intensity; even emotion.
"You are very brave, Ana. I now understand why Edge has taken your part. I will tell your story to my people and your friends will not have died in vane. Come! You must speak to Commander Fairheart and his men."
Shae'elle pressed on, and Boko followed slowly.
High dunes crawled across the horizon as Ana and her company navigated the desert following Juakeem's lead. The sun was now below the horizon, leaving a rich glow of red, orange and purple. It lingered in the western sky behind them. Ahead, the aura from the lights of Odessa had become brighter in the night sky.
Juakeem's pace drew to a stop as he saw a massive tread in the sand. The distinct, wide, shallow trench accompanied by small, circular tracks on either side. He drew a long, wide scimitar from Shae'elle's saddle. Stryker pulled a small sub machine gun from Boko's saddle bags.
"You're full of surprises, Juakeem," he said nervously, unaware of what was afoot, only that something was afoot, and it wasn't good.
"What's the plan, buddy?" he asked, scanning the sands wearily. He hated the desert. It was a deadly, unpredictable place full of dangerous things both known and unknown to him.
"These tracks were made by an emperor scorpion. A very large, efficient predator," Juakeem explained calmly. "If we are lucky, we can reach our destination without encountering it."
"Luck hasn't exactly been on our side," Stryker mumbled, handing Ana a pistol. "Take this. Any sign of trouble, just point and shoot."
"I can't use a gun!" Ana explained nervously.
"You have to learn how to defend yourself, Ana."
"I won't use it, Stryker. Violence is never the answer."
"So you'd die sooner than protect yourself?" She didn't answer. "This should be fun," he uttered under his breath. He didn't know it, but she heard him, and it hurt her.
"It would be best to keep moving. So long as we stay within the tracks, we should be fine," Juakeem said as he set Shae'elle moving again. The group slowly followed the track, weapons at the ready.
"The emperor scorpion seeks its prey by submerging itself in the sand. As prey passes by, the emperor senses the movement above and strikes at the opportune moment," Juakeem explained intensely.
"So, where the tracks end, the thing is probably buried?" Stryker asked.
"Indeed."
"What do we do when we find it?" Ana asked.
"Everything we can to avoid it," Stryker answered in deep thought, ever vigilant.
"Why can't we just circle around?" Ana asked with a growing fear and anxiety. "We're going straight for it!"
"The emperor could be anywhere. Right now we are safe," Juakeem explained. "If it has dug deep enough, it could have changed it's position from beneath the sand."
They followed the tracks for a short while before they came to a stop, fading out. A disturbance in the sand beyond the trail was visible.
"I'm afraid we have no choice," Juakeem said gravely.
"What does that mean?" Stryker asked with uncertainty.
Juakeem removed a water skin from Shae'elle's saddle bags, giving it a few quick tosses in the palm of his right hand before heaving it toward the disturbance in the sand. As it landed in the sand, rolling several times before coming to a stop, a massive black scorpion erupted from beneath the sand. The tail came first, extending high for only a moment before lashing downward, puncturing the water skin with blinding speed and deadly precision. The body followed, popping out of the sand as the grains poured off its durable exoskeleton. Its claws were menacing, capable of cutting a chocobo in half with ease.
The scorpion shifted it's focus to the chocobos and their riders as it realized it had been cheated out of a good meal. It prepared it's lethal tail for another strike, snapping it's powerful claws several times.
Juakeem and Shae'elle wasted no time in pursuing the ominous creature. She charged forward with valiant resolve, pushing the limits of her land speed, lowering her head as she gained quarter on the emperor scorpion's right side.
Boko also sprung into action. This was his moment to prove his worth in battle, and he would not let it pass him by. He lowered his head, rushing forward as fast as his stubby legs could carry him with two passengers aboard.
"Oh ****!" Stryker shouted as Boko's momentum startled him, forcing him to tighten his grip on the reigns, and apply more pressure around Boko's torso using his legs. "Hang on, Ana!"
Ana held Stryker as tight as she could, closing her eyes.
Shae'elle and Juakeem had gained quarter on the scorpion, who welcomed their advancement openly. It cocked its tail back, swinging its right claw toward Sha'elle's legs so as to cut them clean off and leave her defenseless.
She jumped in the air with all her might and a single flap of her wings, narrowly avoiding the path of its claw. As she tucked her wings back into her body, Juakeem raised his scimitar and with a vertical slice, cut the right claw off at the joint.
At the same time, it struck with its tail. Stryker took careful aim as Boko came in behind Shae'elle. He squeezed the trigger, and round after round cut through the hard armor of its tail just below the stinger. It disrupted the scorpions aim enough to miss Shae'elle all together.
She landed hard in the sand, merging into a full sprint. She ran past the scorpion's right side, arcing wide to circle around.
The scorpion staggered to its right, keeping an eye on Shae'elle's movements.
Boko had broken off to the left, allowing Stryker to take aim yet again, pumping more rounds into the body this time.
With one claw in working order and a severely damaged tail, it was now in desperation mode. It brandished its claw, lashing its tail frantically. But all the posturing wouldn't stop Shae'elle, who again charged the scorpion, lunging high in the air to the right. The tail positioned for a desperate, savage strike, but Juakeem severed it with one precise swing of his scimitar. The stinger soared over his right shoulder and into the sand.
Boko came around its left side, getting close enough to grab its rear left leg in his beak. He yanked with all his might. It wasn't very effective, but threw the scorpion's footing off, forcing him to turn around (a slow, clumsy creature on its feet), when Stryker let off a small burst from his SMG directly between the eyes.
The scorpion's entire body went limp and it collapsed lifeless into the sand from which it had came.
"Well done, my comrades!" Juakeem shouted cheerfully.
Ana opened her eyes slowly.
"Is it dead?"
"Indeed, Ana," Juakeem answered her as he and Shae'elle approached the remains. "You have the heart of a warrior, Boko!"
"Wark!" Boko cried out with pride.
"Wark!" Shae'elle joined him, looming over the fallen emperor scorpion.
The group drew nearer to a large, wind-beaten rusty-brown stone formation protruding from the sand beneath them. It towered into the sky, sprawling for a quarter mile in any direction. A complex series of jagged rock and tiny crevasses.
They wearily scaled it's cliffs and chasms by foot, helping the anxious chocobos along as they made slow progress toward their goal; the secret entrance into the rebel base beneath Odessa.
They came to a narrow opening, just large enough for a chocobo to squeeze into. It was dark and musty. Juakeem lead the way, and Shae'elle followed, ducking into the enclosed passage. Boko backed up, rearing his head away as Stryker tried to lead him in.
"Okay. Relax big fella," he said, trying to calm him down. He tugged his reigns aggressively, stumbling around the edge of a jagged cliff. Ana rushed to his side, wrapping her arms gently around his neck. She could feel his precious heart racing. She held him, lulling him softly.
"Shhhh. It's okay, Boko. I'm scared too. But we have to go down there. It's not safe out here." The fear in his beady eyes was clear to see.
"I need you, Boko. I need you to be strong for me, because I can't do this alone," she whispered.
She took the reigns from Stryker, slowly guiding him back toward the passage. He was timid, but he followed her.
"It's okay. We'll do it together," she comforted him.
Stryker watched as Ana disappeared into the opening, and Boko behind her.