The Sword, The Fist and The Gun

[07.06.00] » by Soul Hunter

"You did WHAT???"

"Pipe down, you bozo. Selphie might hear us."

Zell's head sinks to his shoulders, his hand pressed hard against his mouth while his alerted eyes are roaming around in apprehension to check if Selphie is in the vicinity. Seeing the coast clear, he turns back to Irvine with an astounded look to continue his fit of disbelief.

"I can't believe this. You actually spent the night with Jaera?"

"But nothing went down, alright?." A sheepish-looking Irvine claims. "Winhill's governor… uhh, what's his name?… Oh yeah! Zeilgr Markkon requested the Headmaster to look into a couple of isolated incidents that he suspects could be a part of a bigger terrorist activity. And since most of the available personnel attended the re-inauguration of Laguna, Headmaster Cid had no choice but to send in Jaera and me. We bagged a couple of bad guys, spent the rest of the day questioning them, and since it's already midnight and we were in Winhill, we decided to check in to the hotel. So what's so dubious about that? Nothing. Just one of our more uneventful SeeD missions."

Zell flashed a look of skepticism as a reaction.

"Yeah, right. A swinger like yourself with someone as gorgeous as Jaera, alone, in a hotel in Winhill? Hah! I wasn't born yesterday, dude."

"…?" Irvine glares in mock amazement. "What? Zell acquiring an appreciation for the romantic setting? This is a first."

"Whatever. Come on, dude! Tell me about it. What happened? How did it go?"

"It didn't go jack, you lunkhead. I told you, nothing happened. Why can't you believe me?"

Zell ponders intently on that last question Irvine voiced out. And somehow, he agrees on the likelihood of his friend's innocence. Though the former Galbadian prodigy does wield the reputation of a consummate lady's man, he has nevertheless proven to all and sundry his unwavering faithfulness to his Trabian girlfriend. Never once did any of them in Garden hear of any real serious issue about Irvine actually hitting on any one 'cutie' in particular.

But still, the doubtful martial artist maintains his skepticism. There is, after all, a first for everything.

"Heh, serves you right for having a rep, dude."

"Hey, that's not fair. I've been loyal to Selphie from the first day I met her. You know that." Irvine continues to insist.

"Sh'yeah. You must have forgotten that you told me about that time with… what was her name? Alyanna?"

"SSSHHHHH!!!" the Galbadian vehemently hisses. "Okay, okay. So I wasn't totally faithful. But that was a long time ago. And besides, Selphie and I weren't going out yet during that time."

"Heh!" Zell scoffs. "That was funny though. I myself never thought I'd meet a girl with a dress tinier than Selphie's. Man, did you see the legs on that babe?"

Irvine blushes. "Uhh… sure…" After which his face assumes an ostentatious hue.

"Don't give me that look, Irvine." Zell counters. "We both know that Alyanna went on a date with you only to gather some info about Squall. She was interested with him, not with you."

"Oh yeah, that's right…" Irvine sinks back, resuming his abashed expression.

"Did I hear someone mention my name?" echoes a voice from behind, which brought the pair to turn their attention to an approaching Squall Leonhart. Strutting ever leisurely, the SeeD commander clears his throat before joining his two comrades.

"Hey Squall, what's up?" Zell returns.

"Mission order." Squall curtly replies.

"Hmm… let me look at that." Irvine mutters while grabbing the sheet of paper from Squall's hand. "Mmm… interesting. Says here that a top-secret Galbadian weapon is running amuck… top secret Galbadian weapon?"

"Yeah." Squall quips. "According to our intelligence service, this weapon has been under development ever since an allegedly clandestine hit squad from Esthar attempted to assassinate the late President Deling five years ago. I think our favorite dictator ordered the construction of this weapon to retaliate against Esthar. And since their purpose is to challenge a more technologically advanced opponent… well, perhaps you can imagine how powerful this weapon is."

"Hah! If this is similar to that Iron Clad we fought in the missile base, I don't think we'd even break a sweat." Zell enthuses.

"Gee, I always thought that BG95H-whatever-its-name-is almost handed us our heads." Irvine butts in sarcastically.

"I mean, at the time, if it's the same as Iron Clad as when we fought it before… no wait… If it's anything like the Iron Clad now and we are to fight it now… uhh, doesn't sound right either… What I'm trying to say is if it comes here now…"

"Give it a rest, Zell." The gunslinger cracks with a grin.

"Ahh! You mean what I know… I mean… You Know What I Mean!!!"

Squall stifles a smile while taking back the mission order from the gunslinger. "Well… *heh!* … says here that this so-called TG2501MX makes the Mobile Type 8 look like a Tonka truck in comparison." A resounding gulp echoes from Zell's throat.

"Apparently," the SeeD leader continues, "when General Caraway discovered this project, he ordered it scrapped. However, it seems that they did too good of a job in programming the robot's AI. When the development team attempted to shut down its nerve center, the robot… uhh… rebelled. It destroyed a good part of the underground robotics base and is now on its way to Deling City."

"So what do we do with it?" asks Zell. "Take it for a walk in the park? That's nice. Buy a leash from the pet shop, slap it around this thingamajig's neck if it has one. Shout 'Mush!' and then watch as it rips us apart like silly. Sounds exciting. Let's go."

"The order is to search and destroy, guys. And if we don't do it in less than 24 hours, there'll be a lot of dead bodies in Deling City tonight. So, you're right, Zell. Let's go."

"Wait a minute," Irvine abruptly interrupts. "Only the three of us? Where're the girls?"

"Giving Xu a makeover?" Squall retorts, almost smilingly. After which Zell suddenly breaks out shouting.

"Hey everybody! Squall made a funny! SQUALL MADE A FUNNY!!!"

"… Zell?"

"Yeah…?"

"Don't push your luck."

********************

Deafening rumbles fill the early morning air, whose serene ambience was disturbed by the magnificent awakening of the crimson metallic dragon carrier known as the Ragnarok. It lifts, first slowly. Steadily gaining altitude, the Ragnarok suspends momentarily in mid-air before a yet another, more monstrous roar explodes from its main thrusters, pushing the gargantuan ship forward with a sudden burst of speed.

After a few minutes, Zell leisurely tinkered on the panel to enter a cruising speed of four hundred knots before flicking on the autopilot. He can't avoid a slight smile. "Sure beats those old airships."

Heady as ever, Squall stands quietly by the starboard side, his vigilant eyes focusing intensely at the skies around them to quickly spot any possible threat. Nonchalantly, the SeeD commander pulls the shimmering Lionheart from its sheath before resting it on the monitor sill before him.

"Hey Squall, show me your gunblade, will ya." Zell echoes while approaching from behind.

"No."

"Aw hell, don't tell me you're gonna go scroogy on me again, dude!"

"Here." Squall gives in, tossing his weapon to Zell. "Just be careful with it."

"I will. Geez! I didn't study martial arts to be a pathetic butterfinger, you know."

Squall continues to train his eyes out the cockpit window. Though maintaining a stoic disposition, he admits to himself that he is still taken by awe as his admiring gaze basks in the glorious array of white, cottony clouds scattered unevenly around the serenely blue ocean of air. He wonders… a caliginous image besetting his thoughts of the possible dismal appearance these skies would have assumed had he and his crew of fearless warriors failed on their past campaigns to vanquish the array of nihilistic sorceresses and conquest-obsessed demigoddesses who sought to subjugate existence for their own vile desires. Squall asks himself: will there be a next one?

At the onset of the last part of his thoughts, the resolute SeeD commander unknowingly gritted his teeth while mumbling incomprehensible words that seem to be issuing a bold challenge.

"Bring it on…"

"What did you say?" Zell asks while giving the gunblade back to its owner. "You talkin' to me, bro?"

Squall didn't answer. A cold gesture that only prompted Zell to further the budding conversation.

"Hey Squall, something bothering you? I noticed you're being quiet again for the last couple of days. Anythin' bothering you?"

The last couple of days. And again, the somber shadow in Squall's chest aggrandizes, reflecting a moment of fear not too long ago, represented by hazy visions of a room by the ocean and a blindingly alluring teammate.

"No... I'm fine." he retorts evasively.

"Yeah, right. And I'm Bahamut, King of the GFs. Come on, Squall, you can tell me?"

"Well..." Squall hesitates, "I've been thinking about... us. I mean, me and Rinoa."

"Good that you mentioned that. I wanted to say something about it."

"What?" Squall quizzically echoes.

"Nothin' much. I just thought you're confining yourself too much with her. On the other hand, look at Rinoa. She knows she's popular in Garden and she's flaunting it."

"Oh..."

"Not that it's a bad thing, okay? In fact, I was gonna advise you to do the same thing. Mingle a little. Mix it up with other girls."

"What, like what Mr. Wonderful here's doing?"

"I HEARD THAT!" Irvine's voice shoots out from the background. Squall chuckles softly before turning his attention back to Zell.

"No, seriously. You don't have to make like Mr. Casablanca..."

"Continue talking about me and I swear I'm gonna choke on my own tongue!"

"Hey, I'm paying you a compliment, Irvy." Zell exclaims with a grin. "Anyway, Squall, have you ever been with any girl other than Rinoa? I mean, before you two met."

"No... not before..." Squall echoes in his mind... a guilt-ridden thought interrupted by the sudden influx of crackling resonance coming from the console radio.

"Unidentified aircraft, this is a hail from the 32nd Galbadian panzer division. Respond. I repeat: Unidentified aircraft, this is a hail from the 32nd Galbadian panzer division. Respond. I repeat..."

"These boys sure are fond of repeating themselves." Irvine quips while taking hold of the radio panel. "What do we do, Squall?"

"Tell them who we are. They'll stand down."

"Galbadian 32nd panzer division, we are SeeDs from Balamb Garden. I repeat, we are SeeDs from Balamb Garden. I repeat..."

"Cut it out, Irv. That act expired long before the first Lunar cry." interrupts the martial artist. The marksman was about ready to snap back if he wasn't interrupted by the radio.

"Turn back now or we will blow you out of the sky."

"... ... Well, they didn't repeat that one." a slightly worried Irvine remarks. "Squall, what now?"

The SeeD commander deliberates intently. Below them is a lush growth of tropical rainforest that effectively camouflages all but the most preposterously humongous anti-aircraft artillery. Squall notes that in this situation, though airborn they are still practically sitting ducks, possibly surrounded by a number of Galbadian ground-to-air detachments. They can very well execute their threat as easily as taking a deep breath.

He then grits his jaws. They were given an order. And it's his job as squad leader to make certain that it gets carried out... or die trying.

"Zell, Irvine, arm all weapons and counter-measures. We're going in."

********************

Earsplitting groans of metal tearing through a violent wind shear explode through the air as the Ragnarok makes a nigh-impossible bank to hard left to avoid an incoming cannon fire. Not even remotely relieved, Zell almost instantaneously labored to just as acutely turn the dragon ship towards the opposite direction as another shell nearly grazed the side of the ship. Instinctively, the embattled SeeD yanked the two aileron controls on opposite directions, bringing the Ragnarok to spin like a top as it speeds through the sky littered with deafening anti-aircraft fire.

"YEEEE-HAAAAA!!!" Irvine screeches. "Need for Speed my butt! There's a sign back that says 'WE HATE THE SOUND BARRIER'!!!"

"Squall! Hate to break the party but we've been on the defensive for too long!" Zell hollers. "If we stay any longer like this they might get a lucky one in."

"I know! But I'm trying to think of something to disable their artillery without harming the soldiers. Something's not right about all this."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner, Squall?" Irvine joins in. "I've been working some specs into the Rag. We can arm the torpedoes with an EMP payload. That should disable their weapons' computers."

"What?!? But if we do that the electromagnetic pulse will fry our circuits too."

"Don't worry, Zell. I got that covered." Turning once more to their squad leader, "Squall, on my mark, summon Quezacotl, just before the EMP torpedoes detonate."

"Okay, let's do it!"

A flip of a switch later, two slender projectiles burst forth from the Ragnarok's underbelly, leaving a trail of white smoke as they zip their way straight into the enemy's position. Ultra-advanced microcircuitry work at lightning speed, triangulating the approximate center position of the scattered anti-aircraft batteries. Squall and Irvine watch as the tiny specks in the monitor representing the torpedoes zero in on their target.

"Now!"

A split-second of meditation by Squall yielded Quezacotl, the majestic Thunder GF whose electric brilliance was contrasted by the jet-black manifestation of Polaris, the magnetic GF conjured by Irvine to aid in his design. And as the torpedoes explode with electromagnetic malevolence, the Guardian pair simultaneously resonate, the very essences of their incredible powers creating a shield of electromagnetic protection that spared the crimson vessel from the debilitating effect of the EMP waves that rendered the massive array of Galbadian weaponry completely benign.

"Take us down, Zell. Time to work with our hands."

"Now you're speaking my language, Squall." Zell complies, subsequently bringing the Ragnarok to a graceful landing amidst the beleaguered Galbadian panzer operatives. As the cloud of dust stirred by the landing dragon ship begins to settle, that familiar underside hatch draws open. The Galbadians look on as Irvine steps out, with the gleaming Exeter rifle reflecting sunlight into their darkened visors.

"Okay guys. We can do this the easy way," he declares, then cocks his gun proudly, "or the hard way."

"Lieutenant Eiling, give us the order and we'll teach this guy a lesson he won't forget."

"Shut up, Kolsom. You haven't been around as long as I have. Believe me, you do NOT want to mess with these guys."

"What the…" the impetuous soldier blurts out, after which he decides to take matters into his own hands.

"For Galbadia! AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!" Kolsom charges, followed by a handful of equally loyal, if not totally foolhardy soldiers.

Bold battle cries were replaced by ridiculous gasps for air as the small contingent of clueless ruffians were struck by a sudden onslaught of mystic water. They tried to gather their wits back, only to be held in hypnotic awe upon beholding the golden brilliance from the heavens descending on the striking figure of the Guardian with wings on her head. Deft and graceful hands tenderly run across taut strings as Siren caress the miscreants with her Silent Voice, pummeling the horde with soundless power.

"Kolsom, Kolsom! Are you alright?" Lieutenant Eiling blurts out while pulling up his sprawled subordinate's head by the helmet.

"I… I…"

"Kolsom…?"

"I… think I'm in love…"

A thud emanated when Eiling allowed Kolsom's face to crash on the ground.

"Serves you right, you lamebrain." He murmurs, prior to the emergence of Squall and Zell.

"Eiling?" Squall blurts out. "What kind of mess have you gotten yourself into this time?"

"Oh… uh… Hi… Mr. Squall…" the Galbadian commander sheepishly retorts.

"You know this mook?" Zell asks.

"Yeah. He was… ahh, forget it." Squall answered before addressing the lieutenant once more. "So what's the deal here? General Caraway requested us to clean up this mess, then you guys pop out and try to shoot us down. What's going on?"

"President Caraway asked…? I… I don't know." A confused Eiling replies. "All I know is we were ordered to keep a lid on this fiasco, and do it by any means possible."

"Who gave you that order?" Irvine follows up.

"Lemme see now… Captain Wainwright called me and said he was instructed by Major Kayama to deliver this mission order to a certain Sergeant Lometti, who then told the engineers at the robotics lab not to tell anyone about what happened… Then… I heard that someone higher up was worried that this scandal will desecrate Galbadia's image so Colonel Sogo approved some provisions to send in a detachment to cover the tracks of the robot… and then Lieutenant Pippen got sick so I was chosen as a replacement to lead another platoon to a clean up operation in the robotics lab but at the last second we were diverted here and…"

"Wait-wait-wait-wait-wait…!" Zell butts in. "Clam up. Your giving me a freakin' headache. So you're saying that… You don't know who exactly gave you this order?"

Eiling didn't answer, and instead bowed his head in embarrassment. Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Squall nevertheless attempts to instill order in this ambiguous situation.

"Okay, okay…" he starts, drawing a deep breath. "Here's what I suggest. Why don't you guys just clear the area and let us handle this. If you're worried about your country's image, don't. We're always sworn to confidentiality if our clients ask us to. How does that sound?"

"Uhh… ok, I guess." Eiling retorts before turning away while murmuring. "… Spoiled brats…!"

"What did you just sa…"

"NOTHING, Mr. Squall."

Irvine watched as the Galbadian troops march away, leaving their disabled machines behind. He then felt eyes boring unto his side. Turning sideways, he notices Zell staring at him with a grin.

"What?"

"Heh…" smirks the martial artist. "'We hate the sound barrier'?"

"Okay, so I got a little carried away. What's the big deal?"

"Oh… nothing. Nothing really…" Zell trails off as he walks with Squall. Irvine lingers momentarily, his face assuming a frown while listening to the echoes of his teammate.

"'We hate the sound barrier', he says. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Oh man I love this!"

********************

"I hate this! I hate this!!! I HATE THIS!!!"

"What's your problem now?" I smirking Irvine turns to Zell, almost delighting at the reversal of their situation.

"ANTS!!! Freakin' ants are crawling all over my legs!"

"Here, let me help you." Irvine offered.

"YYYEEEOOWWWWWWW!!!!!" Zell screamed after his legs were engulfed by a Fire spell. "What are you (hot-hot ) tryin' to do? (Hot-hot-hot) Kill me?"

"Well, look at it this way. The ants are gone."

"Oh sure! And so's the hair on my legs. You burned them off, you wacko! Now what do I do? Iris will think I've started shaving my legs!"

"Owww!!!" Irvine suddenly yelps. "Hey, these ants are out of control! Where're they coming from?"

"Looks like they're migrating." Squall remarks, his eyes fixed on a massive column of fire ants marching in unison toward them. He promptly calls upon a Blizzaga spell to freeze the area right in front of the column, thereby diverting the ants' direction. "This isn't normal, guy. Seems like they're all running away from something."

"They're not the only ones..." Zell furthers. "Look!"

"Aww hell, I hate snakes." Irvine exclaims upon beholding a score of full-grown Anacondaurs slithering their way forward. Cocking the Exeter anew, the Galbadian sharpshooter checks his ammo reserve, after which he kneels down to a marksman's crouch. Unsheathing his gunblade, Squall likewise assumes battle positions together with Zell.

"We're not ordered to slug it out against these things..." Irvine quips. "Do we get hazard pay out of this?"

"You know it comes with the job... Whoa!!!" Squall blurts out, simultaneously executing a quick backflip to avoid the verdant vapor spewed by the lead monster. Acting on pure instinct, Irvine swiftly drops to the ground, frantically rolling out of the way to dodge a series of tail lashes by another Anacondaur. In one fluid motion, the gunslinger recoils back to his crouch, at the same time firing a round that hit the snake beast squarely at the back of its head. Stunned, the monster winces for a second before furiously turning on the SeeD.

"Okay, now that I got your attention..." Irvine murmurs, then scampers off.

He caught a glimpse of Squall being attacked by two of the monsters. As one lunges for a fatal bite, the SeeD commander pushes hard against the ground en route to a graceful somersault, at the same time casting two Blizzaga spells against the ice-vulnerable reptiles. The sound of his feet landing on the ground was masked by the loud thuds made by the collapsing Anacondaurs.

Nodding with relief, Squall trains his eyes around to check on his comrades. Failing to spot Irvine, he nevertheless catches sight of Zell taunting his adversary.

"Come on, I'm right here. Come and get me!" Zell jeers at the snake beast, who suddenly snaps to strike him with its head. "No-no-no, stupid! I'm right here!" he further exclaims after a quick side step.

And before the Anacondaur could react, the brash warrior attacks, lunging at the monster at lightning speed with a hard elbow followed by a low foot stab to the underbelly and a devastating high kick to the head.

"Mid-low-high... mid-low-high..." Zell was uttering while pummeling the beast. "Eat your heart out, Forrest Law!"

He then culminates with a soaring, Capoiera-style double high kicks that sent the Anacondaur crashing against a nearby tree. Smiling with satisfaction, Zell likewise turns to Squall with a mock salute.

"Where's Irvine?" asks the squad leader.

"I don't know. He was here just a minute ag... oh, there's Mr. Wonderful." the martial artist retorts while pointing to Irvine, who was then emerging from the woods. "Hey bud, where've you been?"

"Oh, just around the corner." he answers with his trademark smirk. "Don't go askin' anymore about the snake chasing me earlier. It's too... gross to describe."

"Gross-rose. I could use some more of this." Zell follows while doing his usual shadowboxing routine. "Hey Squall, let's beat up some more monsters."

"Okay," Squall snaps back. "Let's start with them."

"Uh-oh..." Irvine mutters. Before them, the ground shakes unevenly as a result of the multitude of scampering, gorilla-like creatures who, like the earlier pack of Anacondaurs, are heading straight towards them.

"Uhh... maybe we could use a break..." Zell stutters. "Squall?"

The SeeD commander didn't budge, his face hardened to a menacing scowl.

"Aw man! You don't plan on fighting them off, do you?" Irvine nervously follows up. "It's suicide, man! That's a friggin' Wendigo stampede!"

"SQUALL!!!"

"Trees."

"What?!?" the gunman hollers in confusion.

"Climb."

"Huh...? .... Oh, okay. Trees, climb. Climb the trees! Good idea! Good!" exclaims Zell while making for the nearest tree. It took in excess of ten minutes for the entire stampede to clear out, with the three mighty warriors clinging for dear life atop the highest growth they could find. Finally, the rumblings subside, prompting the trio to climb down cautiously.

"Well. Not exactly the most dignified way to face adversity..." Irvine remarks, "but at least we're still alive."

"Yeah... but for how long?"

Squall turns to Zell quizzically, perplexed by his suddenly sullen mood. "Say that again?"

"I said: for how long? For the past year we've been getting off one life-threatening situation after another relatively unscathed. Okay, cool. But how long do you guys think our luck will hold?"

"Oh, another one of Zell's philosophical fits." Irvine teases, which was promptly rebuffed by Squall.

"No, Irvine. Zell's right. We may be these accomplished warriors the world knows us to be. But for some parts, we also have been getting by through sheer luck."

Irvine didn't answer, the point his two teammates are driving quickly sinking in to his head.

"Remember the missile base?" furthers Zell. "I really thought that was it for us. Selphie had no idea that the Iron Clad was tough enough to withstand the explosion when she told us to use it as a shelter. But it was. We were lucky."

Turning his back toward the two, the somber SeeD ponders for a few moments before continuing.

"How long do you guys think this will last? Have you ever thought that in one of these battles, one of us might just... bite the dust?" Squall and Irvine remains silent, intently reflecting on the words of their teammate. "Honestly, it scares me, man. Not for myself. I'm terrified of seeing anyone of you, Rinoa, Selphie or Quistis finally turn it in. If ever that happens... how do we handle it?"

"Someone once told me this: for people like us, there is really nothing certain except victory or death. But we all know this, right?" Irvine finally breaks his silence. "I mean, you yourself said, Zell. Living a life full of battles, we all should be ready for that time."

"Yeah, but it still pisses me off."

A few moments of strained silence permeates, with each one of three seriously pondering on the possibilities. Reality is a very difficult thing to accept when it brings a realization that even the mightiest of their kind is still nothing but a mere mortal. The slightest mistake, the minutest of hesitation or simply an exhaustion of fate's favor can bring about the end. There is a time for everything. And only the most insufferable fool is inclined to act like he can and will live forever.

"Well, that's the way it is, guys." Squall voices out. "We can never run away from that truth. No one can."

He then eyes his teammates with a very uncharacteristic warmth which almost borders on affection.

"At least we can do something to delay it even for a little bit." the SeeD leader declares with a smile. "By watching each other's back."

"Yeah..." Zell softly remarks, a smile likewise forming on his lips. "Yeah, that's right. We watch each other's back." Irvine nods approvingly.

The ground suddenly shakes, breaking their revelry. Resuming alerted states, the three SeeDs simultaneously turn toward the direction whence a booming reverberation is emanating. From a not-too-long distance, they can clearly see the trees being swept aside by a yet unseen force.

"Good timing." says Irvine. "Here comes our target."

It didn't take long before the source of the upheaval finally reveals itself. TG2501MX, nicknamed the Juggernaut by the engineers who took pride in constructing what they claim to be the ultimate in combat robotic weaponry, capable of withstanding even the catastrophic force of the apocalyptic neutrino fusion bomb. The three warriors gawk in awe as the mechanized behemoth lumbers ominously, its gigantic forward appendages effortlessly felling even the sturdiest growth of trees. It's massive hind portion follows with a growling howl, flattening the terrain with its spike-studded titanium rollers.

"Kinda looks like Alexander, don't you think?" Zell comments, his fist balling into the same virtual powersphere that has in the past subjugated an unknown number of enemies. Sharing his teammate's resolve, Irvine raises the muzzle of his gun, firmly tugging down the shaft in pump-action flair.

Squall simply brings his radiant sword in front of him.

"Hey guys, remember Omega Weapon?"

"Hah! Do I EVER!"

"The girls don't know what they're missing."

Golden flames engulf the stalwart troika, just as the trees in front of them capitulate under sheer robotic fury. The aurum brilliance gleams brightly, shimmering against the nigh-reflective surface of the mighty metal behemoth as it now stands with its cowering presence before the headstrong gladiators.

Squall assumes a wicked grin.

"Let's kick some booty."

The End