Chapter Twenty-Three:
A Splash in the Dark

It was just another day in Vector, the Jewel of the Empire. Those who had worked the night shift had just finished and were on their way to experience their 'night' in broad daylight, or at least what constitutes as daylight in a city awash in eternal darkness. Those who were starting their 'morning' did just that only to waste it away until the swing shift relieved them. In this city clocks and living life to the fullest were all a waste of time, but sadly no one knew any better. How could they? Vectorians knew only what they knew and that was wasting their lives away for promises of peanuts from those in charge—the faceless Man.

As far as they knew, the Man wasn't really a man nor was He really a woman. The Man wasn't always a singular man; sometimes the Man was more than one. Sometimes the Man worked independently, but more times than not the Man was beneath another bigger Man who wielded more power and influence. It was a vicious cycle of grooming and psychological abuse that saw no end until it reached the very top, the very bottom, or someone died of stress and an overworked heart.

As was the case in Vector, the very bottom was always located in the slums of Midgard Sector where the poor received barely enough to feed themselves. They were effectively controlled and kept in check by the Man, the shareholders on the top—in Silius Sector. However, these shareholders failed to realize that checks and balances kept them in their places as well. Emperor Gestahl, unbeknownst to the general populace, sat atop every totem pole and at the end of every chain checking every balance and balancing every check.

The old proverb goes, 'Man of great wealth has finger in pie.' The Emperor had so many pies under him that he eventually ran out fingers and had to switch to toes. Ninety-nine percent of the city's wealth remained in the Imperial Palace and usually never left. Midgard only received two-tenths of that remaining one percent, and that happened to be an unusual anomaly in an unusual fiscal year.

Vector's economy was built for one person and one person only, the Man in charge—the Man's Man's Man, the Emperor. He alone dictated what everyone in his city did on a day-by-day basis and only if it benefitted him in some way, shape, or form. He was the reason for the slums—the worker bees—beneath the plate and the nobles—the enforcers—above.

To be fair, the system had existed long before Emperor Gestahl had taken command; he only inherited it and was as much a slave to it like everyone else. An endless cycle created in a time long before his father's ascension to power, he knew no better and, as such, used it to fuel his lavish desires and fetishes. If he had fathered an heir (which he hadn't), the child would have wandered onto the same damn dirty road.

Ignorant of the world around them, the general populace went about their business like they had the day before and the day before that. Cid, one of the rare Vectorians to have traveled the world in his youth, knew better. Settling down briefly in Kohlingen had expanded his horizons, showing him just how one-sided and flawed the Vectorian system truly was. However, while you could take a Vectorian out of Vector, Vector always came back to claim what rightfully belonged to it; kicking and screaming was usually involved along with a bit of brute force and psychological manipulation. Cid had learned first-hand that a Vectorian should not go against Vector.

His dear, sweet wife… She hadn't even been Vectorian! Those bastards! The look of fear etched onto her beautiful face like a carving of stone, her long blonde hair stained red, her slick blood on his hands—he remembered it all clearly still. The assassination, made to look like an accident, quickly morphed into threats against his daughter. To protect her, he had no choice but send her to live with his wife's parents, and himself to return and work on the Emperor's personal scientific projects.

Despite those steps, he had watched his daughter suffer, especially after the discovery of the esper half-breed. Every time she had rejected the esper's genetic material, he had listened to her mutated cries of anguish, her pain-filled pleas for death, her desperate bargaining for release. He had endured for her sake, all for her. If he did what the Emperor asked, what Kefka demanded, then everything would work out. And it did after the last experiment ended more than a decade ago. The threats against her dropped and she went on to have a successful career as a singer and an actress—the Jewel of Jidoor as advertised by her best-selling record albums.

But with this recent demand—this new experiment—being forced to relive the ghosts of his past once again had reawakened old fears and grudges. Seeing those expressions of fear and hearing those screams of pain from his daughter once again woke him from the rut of the daily grind of placidness and alcoholism. The whole thing was revolting.

How had he gotten to a place where no one could find him? How had he landed in the middle of this mess? The good things in life were long dead in the past, leaving the present an empty void of life. As a child, he had always been told that a perilous road traveled always got better the longer it was followed.

Ha! Bullshit! That was cheap talk to keep Vectorian citizens loyal to the Man fucking them without lubrication or a simple care for their well-being!

"It's bloody amazing what Professor Del Norte Marquez can do when he puts his mind to it."

"Ooooh! Just feel that power emanating in waves! It just gives me the shivers!" Giggling ensued. "Those retard Returners won't know what hit them!"

As Kefka's obscene cackling rang out from the Emperor's chambers, Cid stormed down the hallway away from those who had turned his life into a joke. Vector had taken his family. It had taken his dignity. It had forced him into a position where he could do nothing but play along. Enough was enough! There was nothing he could do about Terra, his dear sweet wife, but he had watched Maria suffer for the last damn time!

The tables were going to turn sharply on the Man and all the other Men under Him. And God help him, Cid was going to make sure he was part of that revolution one way or another.

If Kohlingen was filled with shit and Zozo coated in stale urine, the smells in the sewers hidden underneath Midgard, the lower slums of Vector, were an entirely different beast altogether. Kohlingen had been bad, for sure, but that had just been the product of old backwoods country men and their obsession with lawn care. Zozo had been just slightly worse because of the rain stirring up the old liquid excreta of a thousand drunkards. The stench here stunk up the place with underlying aromas of death and decay mixed with a hint of human excrement, which made it twenty times more horrible than a zombified fecophiliac possessing an obsession with rotten chicken in his month-worn, shit-stained, urine-soaked underwear. In fact, this was an odor more foul than all of those smells previously mentioned put together. This was a horrible vomit inducing stink that employed the same tactics as a crazy ex-lover turned stalker; it clung to everything and lingered everywhere regardless of your thoughts on the matter.

The only way to defeat this ungodly of odors—this stench of stenches—was through a lemon and bleach bath or maybe divine intervention. The gods of this world, however, avoided stinky places like their immortal lives depended on it. Because of this, it was a waste of time to expect the latter to happen any time soon.

"Baldur's Gate! This stench is unbearable!" Locke pinched her nose with one hand and waved the other about her face as if that would shoo away the thousands of years of smelly build-up. Fun fact: It was about as useful as collecting eggs lain by a male chocobo. Also, the stink was thicker than solid concrete.

Celes, at the front of the group and leading them through this god-awful maze of dimly-lit, eye-watering haze, scoffed before halting at an intersection. She quietly scrutinized all options—left, right, forward, and everything in between—before pointing in a random direction and taking that particular path. She said without looking back, "Suck it up, princess. This is on par with Kohlingen's front lawns if you ask me."

Terra shook her head in disagreement and continued taking shallow breaths through the fabric of her hood. Nothing could have prepared them for this torture; even Sabin started showing effects of succumbing to the toxic environment. He had long ago tied a handkerchief around his nose and mouth, for what little good it would do, and absentmindedly juggled with one hand a soccer ball he had found. As if that repeated and mindless act could distract anyone from the smell; his normally upbeat, can-do attitude had turned timid and sluggish regardless. It almost looked like he was suffering from poison. Of course, the sewers of Vector were one of the most poisonous foes they had so far gone up against. Only Kefka won that contest, and he won by the fact that he used actual poison.

Terra sighed and followed the others through the tunnel, taking care to avoid stepping on things of questionable natures and walking around the disgusting, disease-filled puddles when able. She hadn't wanted to enter the city through its sewers. She would have been more than happy to fly them over its protective walls one by one, but Celes had argued against it. "They'll detect your magic," she had said, "and then we'll all be dead by the time you get one of us over." Nobody wanted that. Being dead wouldn't help them or the captive espers.

Still, despite the sewers' obvious drawback in aroma, the architecture was quite amazing. Each tunnel they traveled was high enough that Celes, who was the tallest of the group, could traverse without stooping over provided she stayed in the center of its curved arch. Terra had no idea how old the brickwork was, but despite the cracks and crumbles of age, it was strong enough to support the weight of two cities and even that of their citizens' massively bloated egos.

Since entering this cesspit, they had been harassed a few times by some sort of spear-wielding ninja turtles of the teenaged mutant variety. Thankfully, these things only attacked in groups of four and were almost always quick to run away if hunting solo. Celes claimed that these creatures—she had called them Sahagin—were another victim of the Empire's genetic experimentation program let loose in the wild. Supposedly, it had been the field Professor Cid del Norte Marquez had specialized in before discovering MagiTek. However, as Locke had pointed out, genetics and MagiTek were two entirely different scientific fields. One focused on the building blocks of life while the other was a broad term that covered the artificial use of magic. How one led to the other only the Professor truly knew.

Terra wasn't book-smart enough to understand the conversation on a whole, but what she did understand horrified her. In fact, it reminded her of the newly remembered childhood memories she wished she could forget again – trapped in a sterile laboratory, poked and prodded with needles, cut with scalpels, attached to weird machines, Cid's constant melancholy expression. If the Empire had known that she was a half-esper, would that have been the reason they had experimented on her? In fact, could she be the reason that MagiTek even existed? Was she the catalyst that bridged the gap between two entirely different fields of science?

Unfortunately, she couldn't answer any of those questions. She had never paid much attention to what Cid and his assistants did after they had finished torturing her. They had usually left her in such a state that she had been unable to focus on anything but, not that she could have seen or heard much beyond the isolation of her solitary prison anyway.

Terra hugged herself and tried shivering her fears away. That was then and this was now, but the negative thoughts of then just wouldn't fade leaving her experiencing then once again in the now. If only she could go back a few days to keep herself ignorant of then, she'd be much happier now and probably still have a voice. Ignorance was bliss and buyer's remorse sucked the testicles off a dead Behemoth.

Someone must have seen the look on her face and correctly deduced that it hadn't been a result of their smelly environment. The conversation topic switched suddenly and without warning, or maybe she had just been that deep in thought. There was no real way to tell; not that it mattered anyway.

From over her shoulder, Celes snorted derisively. She said, "You mean to tell me that Maria was in on your little secret? I was wondering how and why you two got on so quickly."

Locke laughed with a nervous air and scratched the back of her head. "Yeah," she said, "she recognized me immediately. Although, I'm not sure if her involvement was a blessing or a curse."

"I dunno," Sabin said from behind. "She seemed pretty into you. I'd be awfully stoked about something like that."

Oh, right. They were discussing Locke's recent coming out as a woman; real name Rachel, but preferred nickname Locke which was also, ironically, the name of her deceased fiancé. Weird, yes, but so was the fact that she had managed to hide those handfuls of jealousy-inducing boobs with bandage wrap alone! It made no sense! If Terra had breasts like that she'd be showing them off to the world! Or playing with them! Or maybe both. Definitely not at the same time. That was even weirder.

Unless…

Unless she had access to a mirror. She'd watch herself start with light, teasing touches at her chest and slowly work her way down towards-

Terra slapped herself on her cheek before silently grumbling to herself. Dammit! Now she had the urge to drag Celes into a side tunnel away from prying eyes and have her way with her. Fat chance of that happening. There was a greater chance of getting struck by lightning down here. Being sexually aroused in such a depressing, disgusting place was a new low. However, no matter where she was she'd enjoy grabbing handfuls of those big, beautiful-

"Easy for you to say," Locke said, bringing Terra back out of her depraved and perverted thoughts. "You're a guy. And I'm not gay like Celes or Terra. Maria's not even close to being my cup of tea, you know?"

"Don't knock it 'til ya try it," Sabin said as he bounced the ball off his head and into his hands. "Who knows? You might end up liking it."

"Already tried it, and not because I really wanted to."

"What? With Maria?"

"No."

"Oh. How was it, anyway?" Sabin coughed. "You know. For science…as Edgar would say."

"Let me put it to you this way: how would you feel doing it with another guy?"

"Point taken." Sabin again coughed, leading Terra to wonder if the environment was getting to him or if the redirected questioning made him nervous. "Would you do it again?"

"Uh, no."

Sabin laughed quietly and then mumbled something that got lost under his breath, his distraction toy suddenly stationary under his arm.

Celes said with a snort, "Well, I sure hope the shelia you shagged doesn't hear about that without context, hey. She might start questioning her ability to please another woman." An awkward moment of silence then followed with Celes looking back while bearing a malicious smirk and Locke wearing an expression like she had been stripped naked. Terra switched her gaze between the two and wondered if there was some sort of subtext present that she had missed.

After slumping with a sigh, Locke said, "Duly noted." She then squared her shoulders and lifted her head as if the incident had never happened. "Going back to the original topic... Maria's flirtatious advances were the real deal. She had a serious thing for me when we were growing up. Honestly, I'd hoped that it'd've faded over time."

Celes made a noise of quiet acknowledgment. "What was Maria like as a snot-nosed kid?"

"Kinda like you, actually."

"Like me…?" The expression on Celes' face was one that Terra had seen before; it was an advertisement of a hunger for violence.

Locke, either oblivious to the brewing storm or ultimately not caring about it, shrugged as if her answer were unnecessary. "Yeah, in just about every way," she said. "Loud, obnoxious, angry all the time, picked fights at the drop of a hat…"

Celes spun around to walk backward, all the while her unamused countenance dangerously growing. Terra knew that look; things were about to get hairy unless someone diffused the situation soon. She hastened her pace with hopes that she'd be able to reach her partner in time to calm her down.

"…Very lesbian."

That last statement made Celes and, by proxy, the entire party, stop on a gil. Sabin wisely chose to remain silent. Even Terra had to bite her tongue to keep from gasping in surprise, but it did leave her wondering what it even meant. Celes was Celes, even if she was angry a good portion of the time. What did being attracted to women have to do with anything?

After a year's worth of perceived silence, Celes abruptly faced forward once again and continued walking, almost as if nothing had happened. "Right," she said after a scathing scoff. "I'll give you that one, but I'm not any of those other things."

Locke's grin grew with mischief, almost as if she believed she had won this little tat. "Says the stereotypical angry lesbian."

"There's nothing stereotypical about me. Besides, you're the one makin' me aggro, mate."

Sabin let out a bellow of a laugh before saying, "There you go gettin' loud again!" Clearly, he didn't notice the irony of his statement. It was like a chocobo accusing its human master of being a bird-brain.

Celes responded with an over-the-shoulder glare and the back of her raised middle finger. "Don't make me kick your arse, Figaro."

"There she goes again," Locke said while elbowing Terra in the arm, "picking a fight! Can you believe that?" The grin had grown into an all-out smile complete with dimples in the cheeks and twinkling in the eyes.

Terra had to admit, Locke's enthusiasm with teasing Celes was adorable. And Celes' look of embarrassment was even more so! Both were pleasant scentless lights in this dark cesspit of a place.

"Fine. Whatever, hey," Celes said after sighing in defeat. "However, Maria doesn't seem to be any of those things now. If she hadn't told me she hides her sexuality, I'd never have figured her as such."

Locke shrugged. "Getting hauled off to a Whozyerian orphanage will probably do that to a person."

"Orphanage?"

"Yeah. Her mom died at some point before I was born, and her dad is some wandering deadbeat. Her grandparents raised her until they died. Nobody else in town wanted the responsibility when that happened, so she was shipped off to the only orphanage around—Zozo."

"Baldur's Gate. I can only imagine what that was like."

And with that declaration, the conversation fell into a silence where the far-off drips and drops could communicate with each other. A hidden storm drain somewhere told its story, its trickling voice echoing throughout the sewers. Considering where they were and how old an area it appeared to be, Terra imagined that it would have been an epic tale especially one told through rhyming poetry, but fluent in water she was not.[1] Such a lack of linguistics forced her to find entertainment elsewhere, mainly in Celes' and Locke's bouncy bits. Everything else was either sorely lacking that something to hold her attention or just not there at all.

They continued on, silently wandering the catacombs, guided only by the memory Celes possessed of that one and only time she had gotten lost in this place. Turn here. Go straight here. Make another turn, but in a different direction than the last, then wonder if they were lost. Someone sneezed at some point causing everyone to jump at nothing. Everyone laughed it off and kept walking, but ultimately got lost again. Three words best described the experience: dull and forgettable.

Eventually, they came upon a room that was unnecessarily oversized, almost like a cathedral. Lit torches bolted to the walls flickered on either side. Copper pipes, now verdant with age and corrosion, funneled water from some far-off location to the floor. No matter where she stood, Terra's boots were now submerged up to the tips of her toes. The very thought of standing in wastewater made her want to retch.

Celes stopped in the center of the room and immediately went on guard. "Is it just me, or has the vibe in here changed?"

Locke pulled her daggers free. "I feel it too. Like this room was built for a fight."

Shivers crawled up and down Terra's spine when something cold and wet invaded her boots. The water level had risen several more inches, just enough to turn her socks squelchy. How the hell was this happening? She tried calling attention to it, but her words failed her and came out as a garbled mess…again.

Sabin said, "Uh, has anyone noticed that the water's rising?" At least someone could voice what she was thinking. Surprising, though, that he hadn't also noticed the unseen clinking of rattling chains that caught her interest.

Celes immediately cursed. "Make a break for it!" she said. "I don't want to be killed by a god damn Aps!"

"A what?" Locke said with a scratch of her head.

A roar echoing from behind not only enhanced the urgency in Celes' words but also revealed just what an Aps was. From a pipe near the ceiling where they had entered hung a giant blue-skinned bipedal pig-like creature, easily three times Celes' height and four times the size of Sabin in bulk. The bared teeth in its dog-like snout could easily shred a man to pieces. Hunger twinkled in its red, gleaming eyes. Shackles adorned its wrists and ankles along with broken lengths of chain giving the incredibly loose impression it was an escaped pet.

The Aps roared loud enough and close enough that Terra's hood flipped back. It dropped to the floor from its perch, the shockwave powerful enough to—out of mere inches of water—cause a tsunami strong enough to nearly bowl them all over. It bellowed angrily once again, this time covering them all in slimy spittle. Terra cowered behind her gloved hands and nearly added to the puddles in her boots. That was the thing she had heard?! That was an Aps?!

"Don't question it!" Celes shouted. "Just move your arses!"

And so, they ran with metaphorical tails between their legs while the monster gave chase. Another roar boomed throughout the catacombs, rattling the walls and shaking loose small debris from the ceiling. Wave crests formed and broke with every earth-shattering step as if the water was in cahoots with the monster and trying to trip them up. As she fled, Terra hoped and prayed that this stinky sewer wasn't going to be her final resting place. It'd be even better if she didn't end up in this creature's belly.

"Where are we going?" Locke called out.

"Anywhere but here!" Celes called back.

They were all so panicked that no one noticed they had run through a doorway that literally led to nowhere until it was too late. With a curse, Celes vanished from sight first. Locke and Sabin were so diligent in following that they disappeared second and third. Terra hadn't fully realized the situation until her heart decided to stay in the same spatial location, lodging itself in her throat, after the ground disappeared out from under her. As gravity pulled her down several floors, she briefly noticed pretty man-made waterfalls surrounding her on all sides. The sound of water talking to itself was soothing and nearly lulled her out of her fear until she smacked into the pool below with an ear-shattering, excruciatingly gut-wrenching belly flop. The pain and the shock were so great that she nearly cried out. However, it was a good thing she hadn't; she had landed face-down in the water. Drowning so didn't suit her style.

As she cringed from the sting and waited for her limbs to work again, she caught a glimpse of Celes, Locke, and Sabin swimming their way down to the bottom towards what looked like an entrance to a dark claustrophobic corridor. Before she could curse them for leaving her behind, an explosion rocked the catacombs somewhere above making it rain debris all around her, each chunk of stone giving off a thunderous splash that reverberated throughout the sewer. She looked upwards, full-well dreading what she knew she'd see.

Up above, the monster had crashed through the tiny doorway and now looked down on them, as if it were contemplating what to do. It made eye contact and then roared in frustration. The contemplation seemed to be over and action not too far away—scary, dreadful action.

Panicking, Terra sucked in as much air as she could and took off after her companions as quick as a small dive and doggy-paddling would allow, pain be damned. If only she could swim as powerfully as Celes! Or as gracefully as Locke! Hell, she'd even take Sabin's ability to sink like he wore iron boots. She didn't want to die here! She didn't want to drown or be crushed by some oversized monster! She still had things to do! Nasty governments to bring down! Espers to save! Boobs to caress and snuggle between at night!

Terra pushed herself to swim faster and farther. She ordered her arms to drag herself forward. She forced her legs to make up for what her arms couldn't do. She ignored the burning. She ignored her lungs and their threats of bursting. She was at least thirty feet below the surface; now certainly wasn't the time to take a deep breath or to even give up! Another thunderous splash nearly burst her eardrums and tried mixing her into the drink. That meant only one thing: the Aps was in the water and the chase was on! Again!

She darted into the corridor and briefly stopped to gawk at the sight of Locke taking a deep breath from a bubble that had come from a burst pipe on the floor. That meant… Air! Her lungs could finally get a quick reprieve! She closed the distance before shoving her head into the largest bubble she could find and taking the biggest breath she could—and what a glorious feeling it was! Sadly, it burst no sooner she had her fill, leaving her completely surrounded by water once again, but that didn't matter at the moment. She was refreshed! She could once again carry on!

Locke gave Terra a thumbs-up before taking her by the hand and pulling her along to catch up with Sabin and Celes, both of whom were up ahead fighting off white squid-like creatures. Well, Sabin was trying at least; the water slowed his momentum down so much that his kicks bounced off in slow-motion. However, that soccer ball worked wonders as a throwing projectile. Celes, on the other hand, used the water's buoyancy to her advantage, giving the impression she was leaping around in low gravity. And if that wasn't enough, she wasn't using her sword to attack, but lemon-shaped ice magic projectiles.

Terra didn't get a chance to ponder the strange underwater battle tactics further as a giant claw nearly dragged her and Locke back out into the main chamber. Luckily for the both of them, like a cat batting at a mouse in a wall, the Aps had missed and, additionally, was too big to fit into the corridor itself. Surprisingly, thanks to auto-pilot, she discovered that she could still throw fireballs in this environment. They oddly bounced off everything like rubber balls until they hit their target with pretty underwater explosions. It was weird—even Locke looked bewildered—but Terra wasn't going to, as Locke would say, look a gift chocobo in the mouth, especially since the squids transmuted into shiny gil coins after being barbecued.

Satisfied that the Aps was distracted and somehow on fire underwater, the two of them made it to another large cylindrical chamber that led nowhere but up. The surface, while visible, seemed too far away to swim. That fact didn't stop Celes from trying, nor did it stop Sabin from wall-kicking between the sides as if, for him as well, water physics and gravity were mere trifles. Large air bubbles formed from cracks in the floor and followed after, not wanting to be left behind.

The whole sewer shook with explosive thuds, telling them that the Aps wasn't about to give up on its mid-morning snack. Terra looked to Locke, wondering if she had a plan in mind. Immediately, Locke stripped Terra of her hooded cape and motioned for her to hold on to two corners. No sooner did she do as instructed, an air bubble formed under the fabric and, like a hot air balloon, sent them skyrocketing.

Celes, not wanting to be left behind, grabbed onto Terra's left boot as they passed. After kicking off a wall, Sabin decided to join them at the halfway point by landing on top of the bubble, his makeshift weapon lost amongst the excitement. How the bubble remained intact entered the realm of puzzling. How it continued to float them to the top, quickly at that, reigned supreme as far as questions went. Terra decided that she, again, wasn't going to look a gift chocobo in the mouth; it was taking them to safety and, as an added bonus, she got an eyeful of massively wonderful cleavage whenever she looked down.

The greatest moment in Terra's life hadn't been that one time in Zozo when she had discovered rain after climbing a never-ending flight of stairs nor had it been the first time she had slept with the most awkwardly adorable woman she knew. Screw both of those! It was now, the moment they broke the surface and filled the sewer with gasping, coughing, and sputtering. Never had she felt so happy to breathe tainted air in her life! She'd never do something like swimming in waste again for as long as she remained living if she could help it.

She quickly joined the others in scrambling to what constituted as dry land and recovering from that horrible life-shortening, breath-taking ordeal. After coughing the water out of her lungs, she collapsed to her back to enjoy the act of breathing. There was also the view of Celes breathing heavily on her hands and knees while her water-logged clothing clung to her form in just the right way to accentuate the eye-catching jiggling of her—

Terra, out of embarrassment, quickly looked away. This was certainly not the right time to be thinking of such things. They had just swum around in nasty, filthy water! So not a turn on! Instead, she focused on a sign on the nearby wall that read, 'Shynee gooldan wyarr of hoap. Ded ahed,' along with an arrow pointing down the hall. Shiny golden wire of hope? What was that? The exit? If it was, it was a horrible analogy. The handwriting and spelling were pretty atrocious as well.

"I think I swallowed something unsavory," Sabin said in a breathless complaint.

Celes snickered between gasps for air. "Dammit, Sabin!" she said. "Don't make me laugh! It still hurts to breathe!"

"I wasn't joking."

"Mate, gross!"

"Hey, guys…" Locke said softly. "What's that sound?"

No one else vocalized their opinions, but Terra could tell that they were all thinking the same thing. Tired, sore, and unable to move, she intently listened to the loud thuds filtering up from beneath the water. In fact, the noises were so loud that it felt like the entire foundation of the sewer was shuddering. Hell, even the water rippled out from every solid object within it.

Celes coughed and hacked up a bit of water. Gross. "That Aps must be trying to break through that tiny corridor to get to us."

Locke, with worry in her eyes, said, "Do you think it can?"

"No way, mate. These sewers have been around for bloody centuries. They even withstood destruction during the War of the Magi. No way an Aps is gonna root it all up."

It started as a tiny crack and a splash so unexpected that Terra bolted upright and nearly into Locke's lap. Silence stood tall once more, but its confidence quickly shuddered and ran away. The massive wall they had just passed under collapsed with a deafening boom, a small tidal wave, and enough dust in the air to choke a goblin. The ceiling several hundred yards back collapsed as well, completely burying their stalker and dashing any hope of returning to the surface via the way they came. Time, of course, got confused and slowed the event down to a crawl despite it actually happening in the blink of an eye.

The Aps' dying roar, along with water dyeing blood, filtered up from the bottom of the rubble-filled pool and then gurgled into calm. That meant only one thing: it, like its hopes for a quick lunch, had been crushed.

"What was this about the War of the Magi not knockin' this down?" Sabin said with a cough as he waved dust from his face.

"Shut up, Figaro." While Terra couldn't see it, she could imagine the glare in Celes' eyes.

He continued, "Still, squished to death at the bottom of a shit sundae. What a way to go."

"The topping's not much better," Celes said after a scoff. "Slapping whipped cream on a pile of shit doesn't make it any more appealing." She paused and adopted a thoughtful expression. "The nuts don't help either."

Locke snorted. "Are we talking about Vector or an actual crap sundae?"

Celes rose to her feet with a shrug. "Both?"

Terra sighed and buried her face in her hands. The conversation only succeeded in reminding her of what they had been swimming around in. She really hoped that wherever they ended up allowed time for a much-needed bath.

The evening air felt good. It was that perfect temperature where it was still warm from baking in the sun's light all day but was no longer hot enough for the chocobos to lay freshly hard-boiled eggs. The shadows now were long and gangly due to the aforementioned sun hanging low in the orange western sky.

In fact, because of Crono's location on a nearby dune, his victory pose looked like some sort of spiky shadow monster gearing for an attack. Marle rushed to him, as well as she could on shifting sands, and tackled him down the small hill. Giggling and muted squealing traveled along the floor of the desert, giving any listener, willing or unwilling, a clear indication of what was transpiring just out of sight.

Edgar chuckled at Marle's brazen disregard for self-control before inhaling more of the sweet cherry of his pipe. As much as he wanted to remind her of her status as a noble and how she should act, he couldn't do so. Everybody celebrated victories differently. She partook in public displays of affection with her consort; he smoked his pipe and thought of beautiful women. Besides, he was on a balcony several feet up and didn't feel like shouting over their rabble to be heard.

"The nation of Figaro has impressed me once again." Edgar rolled his gaze to Ramuh, who had appeared next to him seemingly from nowhere. Like magic, the elderly gent procured his own pipe and satchel of tobacco from the unknown dark recesses of his robes. He packed his pipe and promptly lit it with a miniature bolt of lightning from his fingertip. After a few puffs to get it going, Ramuh continued, "I have to admit, I was a bit worried when that Zombor gave chase."

"You, worry?" Edgar laughed. "As I said when we made it back to the castle, and I shall say again, ''Twas nothing we could not handle.' Figaro is a nation of science and with that science, we shall prevail."

Ramuh let loose a quite loud harrumph. "If I remember correctly, you had run through those underground corridors like someone with brown pants."

Edgar waggled a finger as he took a long draw from his pipe. "Semantics, my friend," he said. "However, it is a good thing my head engineer can work some magic."

"Ah, yes. This curious 'magic' that isn't magic. Her majesty Frigg was quite taken in by the show, I might add." Ramuh then mumbled almost as an after-thought, "As was I."

The battle against the ancient Nidavell army and its Zombor brute, which was what Ramuh referred to, had been ridiculously easy. In fact, by the time the Royal Figaro Army arrived on the scene the fight had been long over. Hell, even Figaro's esper guests, Ramuh and the recovering Queen Frigg, had remained inside the castle the entire time and for good reason. Not only was she still recovering from a thousand years of being stoned out of her mind, but, really, who needed magic when Figaro fought in the name of science?

And science was where an individual like Figaro's head engineer, Lucca Ashtear, shined brightly. A mousey sort of young woman, most people who met her for the first time assumed that she'd be the super-intelligent, shy and reserved type. She was intelligent, yes, but she had a matching arrogance and a narcissistic streak about her that rivaled most Vectorian leaders.[3]

The moment Edgar and his group had returned to the castle from their trip below the sands, she had quickly gone to work creating a slew of new 'magical' weapons that won them the battle in record time, only there really had been no magic involved.

Crono's new Bolt Blade allowed him to attack with lightning; in truth, it was just a piezoelectric trigger built into the hilt that discharged enough electricity into the blade to give a good shock. To the casual observer, Marle had commanded the power of ice, but in reality, her crossbow bolts had been engineered to explode on contact and freeze her enemies with a spray of super-cold liquid nitrogen. Lucca herself had joined the fray with fire, though she had used a simple air-pellet gun and a bandolier stuffed to the brim with fiery napalm grenades.

Edgar, on the other hand, had been given something a little bit different; something to aid his mastery of the spear. At first glance, they had appeared to be a normal set of boots, but in action were something out of a fairy tale. Hydraulic springs built into the souls had launched him high into the air, very much like the air or gravity magic-assisted dragoons of the War of the Magi. The landing was a bit rough, his knees were still killing him, but the added force behind the blow was so intoxicating. Dragoon Boots were the bee's knees, as the kids would say these days.

"So, she had watched from the infirmary, had she?" Edgar laughed. "I would be more than eager to give her majesty a demonstration."

"I would very much like to take part in this 'demonstration'. Ya?"

The voice that came from behind sent eerie chills down to Edgar's feet. Was this the voice of Frigg Asgard? If it was, she sounded like Celes if Celes had some sort of stereotypical accent where "w's" were pronounced as "v's" and "th" sounds came out as a "z". It was a strange verbal construction that left her sounding as if she were angrily speaking with a numbed tongue. Never before had he heard anything quite like it.

By the time Edgar had turned to visually inspect the newcomer, Ramuh had fallen to a knee, most likely in a show of fealty. In the doorway stood the long-lost Queen of Asgard and the Espers, Frigg Asgard the Beautiful. Gone was the royal dress they had found her in, only to be replaced with the green tunic and brown trousers of the Royal Figaro Rangers. How odd. Why had the Chancellor given her those? Her waist-long blonde hair, so blonde it was practically white, was pulled back in a practical ponytail, most likely to ease her use of the weapons strapped to her back, a spear and bow respectively. Besides the difference in hair, the color of her eyes contrasted with Celes' as well, a leafy verdant that reminisced of a thick forest instead of an icy blue that chilled one to the bone.

"Ramuh," she said softly. "Bitte rise. Please. Mein kingdom has long disappeared to the sands of time. You've seen it, ya? I am no longer worthy of such devotion. Frigg the Queen is no more."

"I cannot do that," Ramuh said with a low rumble. "The kingdom of Asgard may no longer exist as we knew it in this world, but you are still my queen and I am still your faithful subject."

"Onkel Weißer Bart, bitte." Frigg knelt before Ramuh before enveloping him in a hug. "I have never once thought of you as a subject. Please, don't demean yourself."

This scene truly was something disturbing, yet exciting, to behold. Edgar kept expecting the type of reactions that Celes would give when she didn't get her way, usually something involving mild violence and oodles of swearing, but they never came. In fact, in this initial meeting, Frigg seemed different from the picture that Ramuh had initially painted of her. Perhaps her true, more vindictive colors would show given time.

She smiled slyly at Edgar from the corner of her eye. "As for you, Herr Figaro, I propose a test of mettle should you wish for me to join your ranks as Ramuh has."

A test? Join his ranks? Did that mean the Returners? If that was the case, then Ramuh must have filled her in on the current state of the world. How fascinating! That didn't take long! Edgar half expected only pleading and groveling would do the trick.

He swapped his pipe from one side of his mouth to the other, all the while keeping his hands at his side and his expression still. He said, "Miss Asgard, I do not recall suggesting such a beautiful damsel join anything as dangerous as the Returners, especially since this is our first meeting. However, I will accept any assistance that happens my way, and if a test of 'mettle' is what it takes, then so be it." He bowed before giving her a wink. "Might I suggest my quarters as the battlefield? We shan't need any bulky armor there."

A blur happened next and left Edgar clues to work out what had exactly transpired. The first clue was the explosion of pain in his groin that sent him sagging to the floor like a half-filled sack of sand. The second clue came from Frigg herself, who now displayed a Celes-like fueled countenance and had her spear extended, blunt end forward, in his direction and at just the right height where the Royal Figaro Treasure had spatially been before the collapse.

Seriously, the throbbing sting was so bad that it felt like something had freaking ruptured!

"Sheiße Perverser," Frigg muttered before sharply turning and storming off. "Gott im Himmel."

Ramuh filled the desert with the rolling thunder of his laughter. "I warned you that Frigg does not take lightly to perversion, especially perversion involving her." He was so amused that he had to use his staff to keep upright. "And here I thought what they said about you and ladyfolk were unjust rumors."

Edgar groaned as he laid perfectly still in the sea of flashing stars with the hope that his smarting reproductive organs would stop crying out in agony. "Keep laughing it up, old man," he said in a breathy falsetto. "My intention was a game of chess."

More chuckling transpired. That bastard was actually enjoying this. "Perhaps you should have opened with that."

Yes, he should have, indeed. At least Celes had never used physical violence against the Royal Figaro Treasure. A hard lesson learned for next time—Frigg Asgard may look like Celes but like Celes she wasn't. If anything, Frigg Asgard was much more dangerous any man who admired the female form.

[1] "Ambitious Revival!," a particularly interesting epic about a metal marionette boy with a strong sense of justice and his battle to save the seas from a tyrannical, *trident-wielding mermaid*[2] and her schools of goldfishy henchman.

[2] *YouTube* watch?v=CPEa8mWxYkQ

[3] Lucca called herself 'Lucca the Great.' However, those who had tried to get into her short-shorts had a different name for her, 'Lucca the Hand-Grenade,' because her temper could blow at any moment, for any reason, and without any regard for her surroundings. Like most of the weapons she designed, it was the shrapnel that did the most damage, not the initial explosion. Otherwise, she was actually a very nice person.

More stories in the FFVI: Cold Fire Universe:
Rust Never Sleeps
An Angel of Snow
Who Gives Healing to the Healers?
Point Me to the Sky Above
Rust Never Sleeps Remix: Alternate and Deleted Scenes

On Archive of Our Own:
Prayer of Revenge