Final Fantasy VIII - End of Days

[SplittinAdam]

This would be my first time posting a story here, although I've been reading over everyone elses for a few years. Please, post C & C, I'm trying to tune up the writing skills a little bit, and I definately feel that I'm rusty. Any thoughts, ideas, comments, issues, or anything else you guys have would be greatly appreciated! Without further ado, I give you The End of Days.

Chapter 1
Everything is moving in slow motion. The heat is just so intense. I can feel the sweat beads swelling, and then sliding down my face. My already damp sleeve brushes across my forehead, fruitlessly wiping away the perspiration, only to return moments later. Beyond the creaking, strained glass of the kitchen window, the flames dance wildly, burning through the city with an insatiable appetite. My Dad runs back and forth between the kitchen door and the living room, his gunblade clinking against the floor with his steps, leaving gouges in the tile in its wake. His lips are moving as he yells to my mother, the sounds just not reverberating to my ears. Everything is tinted in a deep orange, and the light of the dancing inferno outside casts scattered and disturbing shadows across the walls and floor. I can hear a muffled beating, faster, faster, faster, and it doesn’t take long to realize that it’s my own heart, ready to burst out of my chest. I tighten my grip around Gale, whose sobs are the only other sound to carry to my ears. I need to be strong, for her. She still has her teddybear clenched in her little arms, and her tears are lost amongst the sweat pouring down her little face. I keep wondering what happened… are we under attack? Who would attack us? It must be the Galbadians! Where are our soldiers? Will SeeD be coming? My thoughts are suddenly interrupted as my Dad grips my collar, and drags Gale and I out from beneath the table. The trance is broken by my Dad's grasp, and everything jumps into real time.

“Let’s go! Don’t let go of Gale’s hand! I’m going to open the door, and you two run to the edge of town! Get into the shelter! Tempest, make sure the children are safe!” I nod, only because I don’t know what else to do. Dad opens the kitchen door, and pushes us outside.

“I’ll meet you at the shelter soon. Look after your sister, Tempest. Run, now!” he shouts at me, and then he’s off. My gaze lingers on my father's back as he runs down the lane, with Lionheart at his side. I grab Gale’s hand, turn, and run to the shelter at the edge of Balamb. Children begin running out of burning houses all around us, everyone is headed for the same location. The heat is worse out here; everything is ablaze. The screams and thuds of running feet are overwhelming, but I just keep running. I fight off the heaviness building in my legs, tug on Gale’s hand, pulling her faster, and begin imagining the distance left to the shelter. 100 feet. Keep going. 80 feet. Move faster. 60 feet. Just a bit further. 40 feet. Hurry now! 20 feet. Almost there. 10 feet. 5 feet. Thank Hyne!

Back to slow-mo. At the edge of town, I begin shooing the children of Balamb into the steel and concrete mortar shelter. I look to the horizon, expecting the welcome sight of a platoon of battle-ready SeeDs plowing towards us to assist. Nothing could have prepared me for the sight waiting to greet me. Hovering over Balamb Garden, I see the large, glowing, feathered saucer, and angelic wings of the ultimate GF. The sequence is unmistakable. The GF builds a laser globe surrounding and marking it's target. The elemental markings glow within the field. Gravity seems to dissipate around the landmark; stones and debris begin rising towards the monstrous beast. A blinding flash of light, and then the gusts of the shockwave precede the fiery explosion. Impossible. My eyes must be playing tricks on me. I rub at them with my fists, and glance again to the bonfire in the distance. There was no denying it. Eden obliterated Balamb Garden. Tears begin to well up in my eyes, as the confusion of the night’s events plays like a twister in my mind. And then my stupor is broken by the unmistakable roar. I turn to gaze back at my hometown, and I know we’re in trouble. I jump into the shelter, and slam my palm on the lock. The door slides shut, and clicks loudly as the locks engage. Moments later, the walls of the shelter shake with the blast. Gale looks up to me with tears welled in her young eyes. My gaze shifts from her to the rest of the children in the shelter, all wondering what is going on. I rub the tears from my eyes, but my voice still trembles with the news.

“Bahamut just destroyed our homes.”


*****
“Shit.”

I bolt upright in my damp cot. The sticky, sweat drenched blankets slowly peel away from my skin, and slump back into position on the make-shift bed. My slick, wet fists beat white into my eyes as I try to jar the sleep out of them. I lean towards the overturned box at my bedside, and click my pocketwatch open. Squinting through the darkness, I make out the hands stretching for either side of the face. 3:45AM. Would’ve guessed later than that. I fumble for the canteen located on my “nightstand,” and curse to myself as I feel the cold metal brush against the back of my hand, and then wince with each unceremonious clank as the aluminum bounces off the steel floor. My grunt echoes off the bare walls as I lean over and reclaim my canteen, then twist off the top, and let the cold water within cascade over my lips.

The memory of the recent dream plays across my mind for the umpteenth time, and I almost laugh to myself as the realization hits me. 12 years. 12 fucking years have come and gone. My thoughts carry me out of bed; the guardian forces revolted. Not just a couple of them, either. All of them. It started on Balamb all those years ago. It seemed to be a premeditated attack. Garden, and then the town. I step out of my stupor briefly, just to raise the toilet seat, before falling back into the memories. Over the entire nation, only a handful of us survived. From the Balamb Republic, the war spread like a wildfire, consuming all the land in its wake. Trabia was the next to fall, and Galbadia Garden shortly thereafter. Dollet, Timber, and FH went within days. Esthar put up quite a fight, but was also destroyed. Winhill, Deling City, and the Shumi Village were gone within the month. And that was that. The entire global population was reduced to less than one hundred thousand within 30 days.

I lean over to flush the toilet, and listen as the pipes within the thin steel walls come to life, carrying the fluids out to the sea. I turn on the water, and splash the cold liquid against my face, before looking into the dirty mirror. Hyne, I look like shit. My dark brown hair is ruffled from uneasy sleep, and my blue eyes – my father’s eyes, look tired and old. At 24, I feel like I’m 50. I strafe my way back to the bedroom, the cold metal floor actually comforting my feet. Every time… every damn time I have the dream, I can feel the heat on me again, burning my skin, just aching to consume me with everything else.

I fumble for the light switch, and can almost hear the electricity fizz lazily out of the generator, and I watch as the bulb at the center of the ceiling slowly brightens to a dull glow, and casts a dirty light over my 6’ x 8’ shell. Even the officer’s quarters on these boats are shit. I pull on my uniform once again, the black cargo pants, dark grey long-sleeved shirt, and the puffy black vest. I always felt like a burnt marshmallow with this fucking thing on. I lift my belt awkwardly from the floor, realizing I never pulled my gunblade from its scabbard last night. I tug on the handle of the Lionheart, and it slides easily from its sheath, before releasing the cylinder to check my ammo. I move to the closet, and search the dark top shelf; my fingers brush against the familiar box containing my Pulse Ammo. As I load my remaining bullets into the gunblade and my belt, I make a mental note to pull more from the military stock. I gently slide the Lionheart back into its sheath, turn out the lights, and step out of my chambers.

I make my way down the dark, steel corridor towards the deck. As I open the heavy door, the cool, salty smell of the sea assaults my nose, and burns at my tired eyes. The swish of the waves pounding relentlessly against the bow of the ship beats its rhythm into my ears. Moving towards the forward deck, I squint at the horizon, and can barely make out the jutting landmarks piercing into the night sky. I nod to myself before turning towards the bridge. By tomorrow morning, we’ll have reached New Esthar.

[savage daydream]

Interesting. I like the idea of the GFs revolting...mmm, the possibilities. I'm undecided about that last massive paragraph - while it does convey that feeling of just-woken-up and thoughts seeping into each other, it was a bit of a challenge to read (or it could be that I've just woken up, myself ).

Oh and this made me laugh out loud: -

I pull on my uniform once again, the black cargo pants, dark grey long-sleeved shirt, and the puffy black vest. I always felt like a burnt marshmallow with this fucking thing on.

[*Nanaki rulez*]

Hiya, glad to see another new fic. I really enjoyed that chapter - I had a feeling what with big long paragraphs and no little speech one liners that I was not going to make it, but I felt that it all flowed pretty smoothly. (and that was a long sentence for one that complains about big paragraphs.) It has a sort of matrix feel...

My one problem with it was the tone - in the second part of the chapter it was pretty clear but in the first half there was the I-don't-give-a-shit mixed in with the young child's voice and I wasn't sure which one to follow.

Looking forward to the next bit - you had better post at a decent speed or else the mallet's coming back!

[SplittinAdam]

I put in a few edits in the first chapter. I'm having a bit of trouble capturing the young Tempest, like you say, Nanaki. Not really sure what I can do with it, but I'll keep trying. I added a bit in the Eden/B-G sequence, I thought that was lacking. Also broke up the second half of the chapter a bit more. Hopefully that will help with the run-ons, and maybe clear up his thoughts a little bit more. Thank you both for the input, hopefully I dust it off a little bit more as we proceed! Here's chapter 2!


Chapter 2
The hot, barren, and often rocky sands of the Salt Flats dance in tufts and tendrils just beyond the limits of the battered dock, the only remains of the bridge between continents and FH. Just beyond the extended flats, the broken and charred remains of the once grand city of Esthar stare back at us as a constant eerie reminder. As I stare at the wastelands before us, I fondly remember visiting my grandfather, aunt, and my cousin Allison here, long before the revolt. Esthar was never really as lush and fertile as the isle of Balamb, but it sure as hell beat the barren desert it is today. The creakiness of the dilapidated iron gears churning pulls me from my spell as the fore-ship gunners scan the horizon-line, looking for the slightest disturbance. Shit. Like they’d see anything through all these sand curtains anyways. The crew bustles about the deck, tying the ship off to the dock, as the infantry begins to spill out of the chambers below. Time to start another glorious fucking day. Clearing my throat, I open the bridge door, and step onto the deck.

“ATTENTION ON DECK!” comes the cry from my Captain, Solaris Almasy. Solaris and I had been longtime friends, hell, all of us “Children of the Fated Lot” were. His parents married a few years after the second Sorceress War, and took up residence outside of Deling City after Quistis Trepe transferred to G-Garden. My mother used to tell stories of the upset “Trepies” of Balamb Garden, who weren’t too fond of Seifer for obvious reasons. My parents never let on that Seifer played a big part in the Sorceress War, but it was documented fervently in the years following. I never thought that--

“Ah-hem.” Solaris clears his throat, pulling me from my deep reverie. Fuck, I should have tried to get more sleep.

“Listen up! Our mission today is to assist with an excavation! Scanners are picking up a massive labyrinth lying somewhere around 200 feet beneath Tear’s Point! Workers are attempting to uncover the landmark, searching for a way into the labyrinth, and have been met with heavy attacks from Marlboros, Toramas, and Behemoths. Be sure to check your stone stock! We are to rendezvous with a squad outside of Esthar, and will then be transported to Tear’s Point, where we will assist as necessary! Lock and load, everyone! Let’s move out!” After giving the orders, I move to Solaris’s side, and we move towards the ramp, and out onto the dock, the troops following behind us.

“What’s up with you?” he asks, eyeing me suspiciously. “You’re out of it this morning.”

“No fucking sleep,” I mumble, kicking a shard off the twisted steel dock. I hear Solaris clicking his tongue, and I know that he’s made the connection.

“Having the dream again?”

“Yep. Just as vivid as in the beginning.” I pull my mesh mask up over my face, and Solaris follows suit. He turns to the squadron, and motions for them to cover-up. The sounds of machine-guns being shuffled around seems to die in the hot Esthar air.
“You need to repress that shit, Tempest. Like I do,” he chuckles. My thoughts quickly and uncontrollably become jagged and hateful on me. Yeah, easy for you to fucking say. You were nine. Your parents died protecting G-Garden. Hell, you weren’t even there when it happened. Oh Hyne, Tempest. He’s only trying to help. The guilt of such thoughts pulls at my heartstrings, and I spit out the only word I can think of.

“…whatever.”

*****

The heat of the Esthar sun beats down on us, and I curse the wise-ass who decided our uniforms should be predominantly black. The salty sands whip around us, stinging any bare skin it manages to connect with, and making it difficult to advance at a greater pace. I reach down for my compass to make sure our direction hasn’t changed, and, like clockwork, the dark shadows cast by the New Esthar Outpost catch my eye in the distance. The four spires of the look-out posts stand tall above the two-story block and brick wall, which runs the entire perimeter of the compound. Built of sand-blasted concrete, and then coated, the outpost blends into its surroundings extremely well, making it an ideal location for a military post, and make-shift community for a handful of people. Within the confines are a couple tri-level apartment buildings, a military barracks, and a small hangar.

The large, steel doors swing slowly open as we approach, and two small contingents of soldiers file out before the compound, and form a firing line before us. I chuckle at the expected warm welcome, and the words dash through my head. Standard operating procedure.

“Colonel Tempest Leonheart, and Captain Solaris Almasy, SeeD Fourteenth Balamb Battalion,” I identify ourselves to the welcoming committee. The firing squad stands down, and shifts formation to attention, saluting Solaris and myself.

“Welcome to New Esthar!” they cry in unison. Thankful that our sand masks are hiding our smirks, Solaris and I curtly return the salute, and lead our troops inside the walls of the town. The steel doors make a deep clunk as they close behind us, and the growl of the locking gears spring to life. Our squadron assembles into ranks, eight rows of six men, and stands at attention, as the cadence of the approaching Estharian unit draws closer. The Esthar battle uniforms are a dark brown to blend with the surroundings, and consist of cargo pants, tan undershirts, and a nice windbreaker top-coat, with mesh ventilation at the arms and back, and several storage pockets. Beats the hell out of our poofy marshmallow vests. The stomping of their boots echoes throughout the compound, and they come to a halt a short distance from us.

“ATTEN-HUP!” calls the unit lieutenant. Solaris and I step into salute, followed by the rest of our squad. The tall, dark haired brigadier general steps towards us, and salutes. His hair is shortly trimmed, he’s clean shaven, and his shining, brown eyes look over us both. This guy looks like a fucking Barbie doll ready for a tea-party, not a battle-hardened solider. A glance at the single star on his collar tells me all I need to know. Those fucking Estharians. They pass out rank like candy. Maybe I should transfer.

“At ease!” he calls to both units, before introducing himself. “Brigadier General Andrew Kingston.” He shoves his hand out at us. Even his fingernails are immaculate. No dirt and nicely cut. I wonder who this guy blew to get his star.

“Colonel Tempest Leonheart. This is my Captain, Solaris Almasy.” We take turns shaking his delicate hand. “When are we departing?”

“Two transport buses will be ready within the hour. Have your men help themselves to some refreshments in the meantime,” as he points towards the mess hall. I nod, and Solaris turns to dismiss our troops. As we head towards the mess hall for some water, he leans into me.

“So, what do you think of our new friends?” he stifles his amused chuckle.

“I think Polly Princess is in way over his head.”

[savage daydream]

Also broke up the second half of the chapter a bit more.

Ah - much easier on the eyes.

I like the way you're depicting Tempest, especially his incisive, critical style of narration. This made me grin: -

A glance at the single star on his collar tells me all I need to know. Those fucking Estharians. They pass out rank like candy. Maybe I should transfer.

Looking forward to more, of course.