+ final fantasy viii: perfect

PeRFecT

By B.E. (aka Mr. McFrugalshtein.)



Disclaimer: I AM THE MISTRESS OF THE UNIVERSE!!!! I OWN EVERYTHING!!!! MWA HAH HAH HAH HAH..oh, except these characters.places, game-based events.. 'n stuff.

A.N.: Quistis and Irvy? Wait wait.hear me out! This story does make sense, dammit! But man- this suckers gonna be long.. I should really be writing my novel..or doing my homework..heh heh..Oh God, I'm sleep deprived. And I hate writing with Micro. Word- The spell checker is wrong! Grrrr. . .. Damn American English.. 'Colour has a 'u'! a 'U' dammit!' Wordperfect is well. .. . perfect for PeRFecT. . .I hate this program!!!! .. . . . pant. . . .wheez . . . .get over yourself, B.E. (and stop talking in the third person, you moron!) *grins and does a curtsey* Now. . . on with the friggin' story. ^_^

A.A.N: Hey- thanks to all my PeRFecT reviewers- Tellia, Vanessa, Slice, Irvine (man-you guys have been with me since the start!) and my newer reviewers, Sherry(with an exclamation mark) Ripley, Jade, Almicene and Rachel.

Sherry-> your question. I'll think about writing a "lemony" part, but I'm probably too much of a chicken shit. Also I'd have to change the rating. But I'll think about it.the idea is tempting. . .pending.

Rachel-> Hey, thanks for some construct.crit. Yo- I didn't notice I talked about Irvy's bod that much (like twice.) but I DID notice that Quisty's really obsessed with his facial features and is always describing them to herself. I'm actor/playwright, so I really get carried away on describing the physical manifestation of emotions. Maybe this is the soapy part? Dunno- check it for me, would'ya? Danke/Merci. -oh, and sorry 'bout the swearin'. I'll try to limit it to characterization purposes (I was in a pretty crappy mood Sunday night. I dumped my boyfriend for this story. ;) Not quite. . . .but it's not a stretch either.)



Chapter 6



Quistis loathed grunts. But only because she knew that the Galbadian foot soldiers were ravaging her with their eyes- undressing her slowly and doing, Hyne-knows what to her unwilling body. The way they leered at her was somehow sub-human and utterly vile. She was tempted on more than one occasion throughout the facility tour to unsheathe her whip, but, upon remembering Irvine's reaction, she kept her weapon firmly tucked away and trotted silently alongside Instructor Botchaskya. They stopped the tour outside the missile hold.



"Alright now, kiddies. We're gonna split into two groups now." Sergeant Biggs announced, raising his arms to indicate silence. "Alpha Group will be heading upstairs to play a game I like to call "Decipher that Code!"- winner wins a free, all-expenses paid trip back here to the base at our convenience. Beta Group is scheduled to pop into the missile room for a little missile-loading competition. Instructor Botchaskya, will you please divide your students into appropriate sections?" The snot-nosed officer cast a disdainful eye on the cadets then turned his undivided attention to Quistis' chest. She crossed her arms and glared. As did Botchaskya.



"The students know where they're going, Officer." Evana spit out, candy- covered and sugar-coated. He grunted in reply and motioned for the stationed guards to open the missile room.

"All right then. Beta team- follow Private . . .er. . . .Watts there. Alpha team, come with me." As he passed, Biggs grasped Quistis by the elbow and steered her towards the Intelligence Office. Glancing at her colleague, Quistis ripped her arm from his clutch and took a step back.



"You're with Beta Team, Trepe. Go load some missiles." Instructor Botchaskya barked, pointing. Letting out a subtle sigh of relief, Quistis strode past a fuming Biggs with her nose in the air. He made to step directly in her path, but she swerved and he only managed to graze her. She couldn't suppress her horrified shudder as he reached out and caressed her hip. She quickly rejoined Beta Group, muttering a quick appreciation as she passed by the red-headed Instructor. Alpha Team disappeared up the stairs and into the hold.

'Do they think we're idiots?' She mused as she followed her students into the hangar. 'Or have they give up on subtlety? They're not even trying to cloud the fact that they're essentially using the cadets for child labor. Caraway's a fool.'



The prodigious missile barn inspired both awe and terror. Several cadets whistled in wonder, while others let out streams of merited profanity. The rest simply blinked and stared. Their supervisor, a fairly green private, stood before them and coughed nervously.

"O. . . .um, o k. . .kay. I think the game is this: Split into two groups and each group take charge of a missile. When I say go, the teams will try really hard to roll and get the missiles into their locked positions. Whichever team finishes loading their respective missiles wins an all expenses paid trip back to the missile hangar, at the Galbadian Army's convenience. All r. . .r.ight. If you have any questions, ask me- Information's my specialty."



'What a funny little man. Huh.'



The cadets fell into two lines and each team took to their respective loading docks. No fuss, no chaos- they marched in perfect synch. Without a leader, without a drum. Discipline had molded them into beautiful, terrible machines. Quistis, for all her experience and talent, was both proud and envious of their homogeny.

"Wow! They're really good, sir!" Wonder and fear were inscribed in Private Watts' face. 'Sir?!?!' Alright. She smiled and nodded.

"No offense-but they put your troops to shame." She answered.

"It's true! Damn it . . ." He trailed off and sighed. Quistis couldn't help but grin. The little private was so quirky it was adorable and pathetic. She nodded.

"They're ready." She announced to him, nudging him in the side. Eyes bugging out, he scrambled into an authoritative position and called for attention. He would've been mauled to death by any other group save these Galbadian Cadets. They gave him their utmost attention. He cleared his phlegmy throat.

"All right, sirs. Get ready. Remember- you need to work together to roll the missiles into their tanks. Good luck. On your marks, get set . . .." His whistle shrieked and reverberated throughout the hangar. The SeeD hopefuls sprang to life- previously selected squad leaders acted as coxswains, urging their teammates and controlling the co-operative rhythm. The mammoth shells heaved and groaned as they were forced into submission. It was poetic in it's perverse glory.



"Look- oh look how they move, sir!" Watts was bouncing up and down beside her. She just smiled. It was all so nostalgic for her. She suddenly craved her Balamb water. 'Those boys are going to pay dearly for stealing a part of my home.' Quistis bitterly decided. From that thought, her mind instantly connected to images of Kinneas offering his hand to her, an award-winning smile plastered all over his guileless face. The projected mental picture melted into her glimpse of him that morning- eyes closed, puckered lips slightly open, expression slightly colored by his arching eye- brows and ever-present smile. She found herself grinning like an idiot.

"Sir! Sir! The group on the left side has cleared one of their missiles!"

"Excellent."

That was all she offered. Her stubborn, ever-racing mind forced her back into her own, perverse little fantasy world. She was getting a little obsessed. . . ..Not that anyone would ever be able to tell, save Quistis herself. She was still peRfect on the outside. . . .right? 'Of course. . . .Maybe. . . . Dammit. I wonder if Irvine and Martine reached F.H. safely? If he's completed his mission already. . ..My pOor BoY. . . ..Huh? Since when did I take possession of him? I've known him for. . . .." She glanced down at her watch. Twelve thirty five. ' forty four hours and forty three minutes. I'll be damned, Quisty- you're losing it. Focus- What the hell's been up with you lately? Falling all over yourself for some trigger-happy Joe like an insecure old maid. . ..This is wrong. Plain and simple. You. . . ..dammit- Did I just call MYSELF Quisty? That's it- Henceforth, I will accept the fact that I am desperately insane. Hyne-Look at how much I talk to myself. I'm flippin' schizophrenic. . . ..'

"Sir- the other team has caught up and it quickly making up for lost time!" Sergeant Watts was so bloody enthusiastic! It kept slicing through her internal dialogue. . ..

"Good work cadets." She articulated sincerely, acknowledging both squads. The right squad had indeed caught up, and both groups were rolling their missiles with abandon. 'Missile rolling? Methinks I have created a new competitive sport!' She turned her head to study the towering missiles. They stood tall, like matte-silver silos, but they potentially housed the end of the world. Two groups of ten children had been charged with the fate of the world. 'That's a sobering thought.' Quistis almost spoke, watching Botchaskya's class struggle with the canteens of destruction. The cadets were beginning to tire, though- it was visible through the syncopation of the overall gait and the hoarseness of the coxswain's voice. Their efficiency was still remarkable.

'BuT nOt PeRFecT.'

No- they were becoming weak. Feeling inadequate and despoiled. They were being violated by the state and inanimate Mother they loved and served religiously.

'IrViNE iS PeRFecT'.

No- he's sexually appealing. Charming and clever. Not Perfect.

'LiTlE IrVy aNd BoSSy QuIstY. PeRFecT'

Just Shut The HELL up!'

She suddenly felt ill. Jetting out her arm, she violently grabbed a fistful of Watts' army jacket.

"I need to go to the Ladies' room."

"But sir- we only have communal. . . .."

"I don't care. . . ."She hissed, pulling his face to hers. His wide eyes grew to an unfathomable size and he gulped.

"It's just down the hall, sir. And to your left."

Quistis found the washroom and vomited. It was thick and it burned her throat and tongue and practically ripped through her esophagus. She gagged and cried and wished to Hyne she'd never stepped foot on Galbadian soil. Forty five hours. She tried to think of the trite but precious moments she had shared with Irvine the night before, but it just caused her to violently spew into the toilet bowl. She thought about Balamb and coughed and choked on her own gooey liquids. She rested in a pool of her own depression, beside a cauldron of her darkest humors. She heard the door open and shut, which set off her gag reflex. Post-vomit, she heard a couple of hushed whispers from men over at the urinals.

"Man! I thought Bigg's had quit that shit. He sounds like a woman. Y'know- there's such a thing as too thin. . .."

"Yeah well- he ate a whole twinky at lunch. You just knew that was gonna set'em off. . ."

The tap was turned on and the door slammed shut. Quistis heaved a sigh of relief and leaned against the stall door. There was nothing left for her to bring up- not even any intestinal juices. She had been thoroughly emptied. The aftertaste nearly caused her to be sick again, but it just came out in a strangled cough. Pressing her cheek to the cool, sickening door, she let her mind quiet itself and let her unchecked tears drip down her cheek and fall from her chin. A moment passed. One minute and thirteen seconds, to be exact. The she rose. . ..totally rejuvenated.

'Hyne, this is a vicious cycle. Better head to the infirmary when I get back. Ughhhh. .this place is filthy.' She slammed the stall door and neurotically lathered her hands and washed her face. She even went so far as to pop a few suds in her mouth- soap was better than concentrated bile. Spitting and rinsing, she stretched out her shoulders, fixed her hair, and hurried back to the missile hangar. She ignored the soldier's debasing stares and jeers kept her head high in the air. They would respect her! She was SeeD.

Then. . . ..there was a silence. No jeers. No snickers. Quistis stopped in her tracks, the only audible sound was the anxious thumping in her chest. A frigid breeze fluttered through, chilling the blonde SeeD and caressing the emptied vacuum that was now her stomach. The silence seemed cadential. 'What in Hyne's name is going on?' She shivered and shuddered. She glanced around and there was no one. No footsoldiers, no peons. Just Quistis herself and the sterile base hallway. 'This is just PeRfecT. . . .'

A shrill siren cut through the air. Red flashing lights and strobes beat out warnings. Code Red- Total evacuation.

'The kids.'

Instructor Trepe tore off down the hall back to her charges. Grunts passed her , moving in the opposite direction, regarding her with horror- They were escaping, why the hell wasn't she? Angst-filled screams met her ears as she forced her way into the hangar.

Two groups of ten children had been charged with the fate of the world. . . .Now the world stood face to face with oblivion. Thirty five cadets and fifteen footsoldiers- working together beautifully to stop two three-ton missiles from slamming to the ground. The crane cables had snapped mid- process. The children were being crushed underneath them.

"Trepe- get the hell outta here!" A shock of red hair stuck out from underneath the crippling weapon. Quistis disobeyed her superior and joined her comrades. Evana Botchaskya grinned and grunted in pain. The cadets and soldiers alike were amazing. . ..but they were all going to die.

"Quistis-girl. Get. . .."

"What happened?" She took up a position beside her mentor, putting her back and shoulders into it.

"Repositioning the vertical missiles. The cadets were supposed to roll them into horizontal storage, but the crane cables snapped- all of them- and the kids were caught underneath. Damn they're strong cadets- Trepe. We're holdin' up. Givin' those officers and political fuckers time ta save their sorry asses. Hyne- they aren't worth half as much as my cadets. . ." Evana grunted in pain as the second missile, which was crisscrossed above the lower one, pushed away from the wall, putting more force on the team. Quistis gasped at the sight. Evana chuckled. "Can you believe it? We're not gonna die in glory, in the battle field, in Garden's name. We're gonna be crushed to death and blow away in an army basement, cursing Deling and Galbadia all the way up ta heaven. You're second and last day as an Instructor- How's it feel?"

"You're depressing me. I'm not going to think about it."

"Anything you regret?" Botchaskya Grinned, opening one eye.

"Dying a virgin."

"Hmmmm. . . .yeah, that's always a tragedy. Should'a got Kinneas ta take care of that for you last night, girly."

"How 'bout you?" Quistis groaned as more weight was suddenly placed on all of their shoulders. Up ahead, one of the cadets had collapsed. Unconscious. It was beginning to sink in. She was going to die.

"I regret not beating the hell out of a member- any member- of the Deling family. And never having a child. I have a lot to offer a young mind, ya'know?"

"Yeah- I think I do."

A Footsoldier collapsed behind them. A chorus of grunts echoed through the hangar as the missile fell an inch closer to the ground.

"I regret not dying in Balamb- for Balamb." Quistis whispered. Her friend only nodded and grit her teeth. The pain was excruciating- the cold metal unyielding, mashing against their shoulders and backs. There was crying and praying everywhere. Innocent children were dying so seedy politicians and useless aristocracy could carry on-how typical! Utilitarianism was a moral parody.

"In my next life- I'm going to be the dog that bites Vinzer Deling in the ass. . .." Evana guffawed, pushing hard against the missile. The comment met with scattered chuckles and holy 'amens'."

Another cadet dropped to the ground, followed by the one noble officer who had stayed behind.

"Oh, gee, sir- Now what are we gonna do?" A little voice questioned from behind her. Quistis laughed.

"We're going to die, Private Watts. What do you regret?"

He thought for a moment.

"Um. . . . ..I regret never telling Rinny how I feel about her. And regret giving Zone that three-day old cheeseburger- he's had chronic indigestion ever since. But other than that, I've lived a good life, sir."

"Nice ta hear." Evana choked as her knees buckled. She fell to her hands and knees.

"Evana!" Quistis cried out as the missile slowly began crushing her back. Instructor Botchaskya was strong- much stronger that Quistis or any of the cadets. But she lay on the ground, defeated.

"Instructor Botchaskya- That third missile is wobbling. We have to keep these things still or else it'll create a domino effect." A random cadet announced from the back.

"Still so idealistic. So innocent." The fiery-haired Amazon laughed into the ground. "No use. I'm going to haunt Martine and Caraway for this. It was nice ta meet'chya Trepe- you're quirky. I like that. And you think these kids don't know who you are? Dammit, girl-you're their hero, their ideal. Dying with your hero is a beautiful thought." The strident sound of metal on metal cut through the alarms and groans. The load was getting heavier as the flies dropped.

"Instructor. The third missile!" It was a strangled cry, choked from a hysterical throat.

"Captain Botchaskya,don't say anymore!" Quistis hissed, roaring as she arched her back and pushed against the missile. Her efforts were to no avail. Evan just chuckled and coughed. A spatter of blood flicked across the floor. Blood. Quistis began to shake, her eyes refilling with tears. She was going to die empty and alone.

'AlOnE. OnE is PeRFecT'

"So Weak. . .."

'BeAuTiFuL QuIsTY. . ..LiVe'

Her body tingled with fear and emptiness. The tears were flowing freely. The blood pounding against in her eardrums overshadowed the wails of despair. She was going to be sick again. She trembled and broke out in a wild scream, internally clutching at her raw throat. The sound ripped out of her and she let out another violent, tremor-inducing wail. A warmth ran through her limbs, loosening her cramped muscles, breathing life back into her body. She felt instantly calm.

"Mighty Guard." She whispered.

The pulsating blue waves tore through her skin and encased the heroes in a bouncing shell of light and warmth. Scattered murmurs of joy and fear fell from the cadet's mouths. Were they saved?

No- the missiles lay precariously atop the invisible shelter, looming over them. There was a scraping sound, and all turned to see the third missile free from its position. It came crashing. Screams. Blood pounding. Voices. Warm, free magic.

"Degenerator."



Her body tore apart at the center. As she fell to the ground, she witnessed her own power at work. The missiles disappeared. Sucked into the void. Safe. Everyone was saved.

She collapsed into oblivion.

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