(Author's note: Wow, I got this out faster than I thought I would. Alright, for those of you who read the last one, I hope you'll enjoy this one as well. There will be more characters, a few more sidequests, and I'm trying to make some things a little darker, without losing that humorous edge.

For those of you who haven't read the first one...what are you doing? Go back and read it! Or, if you really feel lazy, here's a very brief summary:

Paine (from Final Fantasy X-2) was commisioned by an individual named Mirt to find a rare treasure (later referred to as the Stigmon). To get to the dead planet that provided a home for this object, Paine had to rely on the piloting (and fighting) skills of a surly Gunblade Weilder called Leon (from Kingdom Hearts). While these two didn't always get along, they did find that they worked fairly well together. Nearing the end of their journey, it was discovered that their misison was a lie, and that the people claiming to want to protect the Stimgon only wanted to use its power for destruction. In a desperate last stand, Leon fought off vicious creatures known as Guardians so that Paine could get the Stigmon and escape.
Now, she's trying to find him...if only to find out if he was serious about that kiss...

And now, without further ado...)

A Cross of Swords, Part 2: Chapter 1-Another World, Another Bar...

It was weary game they played.

A kind of cat and mouse, only the prey was far more elusive. It was what had led them to this place, a kind of place she was becoming all too familiar with.

A place where people went to forget their failures, ignore their problems, and hide from their future. She used to come to these places for those very reasons. But no more. Now she had reason and a mission.

Her eyes of scarlet glanced upward. He was on the roof she knew, even though they hadn't conferred. He seemed to like high dark places and she didn't argue. There was still much about him she didn't know: how and why he did things, but so far he hadn't given her any reason not to trust him, and she of all people understood the value of privacy.

This establishment was nearly identical to countless others she'd seen. Dark mahogany exterior, a few mall windows (large ones had a tendency of getting people thrown through them), high timbered roof and a large sturdy front door. Depending on the kind of world, there could be a stable or a hangar in the back.

This would be the last one. Sure, she'd said that before, but this time she meant it. If they didn't find a pilot here, they would just…what? Steal a ship and figure out how to fly it as they went? A sigh threatened to escape her. No, if this turned into just another failure, they would try somewhere else. A dozen dead ends would be worth it if it helped her reach her goal. To find him.

She got the same kind of reaction every time. The door would shut loudly behind her as she was met with total silence. A few customers would be wondering what a strikingly beautiful woman was doing in a disreputable tavern. The smarter ones would be wondering if she could handle the huge sword she was carrying. The disinterested (or highly inebriated) patrons immediately turned back to their drinks of liquid death, deciding she wasn't worth the trouble to figure out. The warier few made subtle movements towards their own weapons…just in case she caused trouble.

She took stock of the room in an instant. Four at the bar, a few hiding in dark corners. None looked particularly threatening, but looks could be deceiving. And there was twice the danger now.

Before, all she had to worry about was the unwanted attention of a few drunkards, maybe a challenge from a would-be hero, or an attack from a marauder. They had been easy to deal with. Now, she had to deal with the servants of the Master.

She'd never heard of the Master until a few weeks ago, when another futile attempt had been made on her life. Her 'partner' had made sure the fake assassin didn't succeed, but right before he died (she was still sketchy on the details of how THAT had happened), he had whispered something that still gave her chills at night.

"It doesn't matter how many of us you kill. We will proudly and gladly give our lives for the Master. But he doesn't want ours. He just wants yours."

She had never been a believer in suicide missions. If it was going to get you killed, it probably wasn't worth it. There were few things she was truly willing to put her life on the line for. This mission she was on now was such a thing. But this avid fanaticism…she still remembered the look in his eyes, the kind of feral quality. Like he hadn't even been human. But what had bothered her more than anything…he had just been a kid. Couldn't have been very old at all. And yet, he had tried to kill her and in the process, been killed himself. The memory made her stomach flip.

But she was here now, and had to stay focused on the present. She held her sword lazily at her side, giving the impression that, while she wasn't defensive at the moment, that could change really fast. She sauntered in and made her way to the bar counter. Her movements couldn't be called graceful, but it was with a kind of ease that made you think twice before making a derisive comment.

She sat down and the game began anew.

Twenty minutes later she knew this was going to be a drink-and-drop job. This was one of those close-knit groups that didn't like strangers, and especially didn't like them asking suspicious questions like 'So, do any of you know how to fly a starship?'. Her last shred of hope that this would go peacefully was demolished when she saw, out of the corner of her eye, the bartender reach under the counter. All eyes were on her, and her sword, which rested against the bar.

She took a long slow sip of her drink, some indescribable brown stuff that tasted (and for that matter, felt) like tar covered in sugar, and took her time putting it back down. It hadn't quite reached the surface of the bar counter when she grabbed the patron nearest to her and thrown him at the bartender, who lost his grip on whatever weapon he was reaching for. Too slow to react, the person on the other side of her (who really didn't want to get involved, only wanted to finish his drink), suddenly became a shield as she vaulted out of her seat and flipped over his head (which made him the recipient of the bottle that was being thrown at the now running young woman). One of the more eager participants took a swing at her, only to find her head was not where he thought, since she had dove to the ground, scissors-kicked her legs, tripping him and making him fall onto the guy, rubbing his head from being hit with the bottle.

She jumped up from the floor and kicked out again, knocking over someone trying to wield a knife. She hit him square in the chest, but he was sturdier than he looked, and he stayed up. A fast punch to the face made him stagger back, but he was still vertical. As she shook her hand to clear the soreness, two burly individuals came up from behind and grabbed her arms. She launched her legs out and this time managed to knock the first guy over, but she was still caught.

The temperature in the room dropped noticeably. Everyone looked to the door, but it was still firmly shut. She held perfectly still, though a slow mile graced her face.

The guy on her right felt his hair move just a little. The whole room sucked in a breath. The guy on her left felt something cold press against his spine.

"I think the lady would like you to let her go. I would humor her while you still have most of your appendages intact."

The voice was low, echoing inside the attacker's skull. He made it sound like maiming was an intellectual pursuit.

She felt the grip on her arms loosen. She jerked forward and rubbed a gloved hand against her shoulder.

"What took you so long?" she demanded. He shrugged, as if to say 'Hey, it looked like you could handle yourself'. Everyone else in the room backed up a few steps.

"I take it what we're looking for is not here," he observed, as if they were the only two people in the room. She nodded. He moved to the door, giving everyone a full view of him. A red cloaked covered a suit of black, studded with metal. One hand, engulfed a fingerless glove, held a small dark pistol. The other hand was more noticeable, large, gold and mechanical. Dark red eyes were obscured by a mane of long black hair, held black by a red headband. Someone may have made fun of his shoes, but only if they knew for absolute certain that he couldn't hear them and they were very far away. She followed, being no less impressive. Thin black fabric covered silver studded armor. Red straps, from her shoulders to her feet contrasted high boots and short shorts. Again eyes of blood, but these were hidden by silver hair, which contrasted sharply with her smooth young face.

They were an odd pair, to be sure, and not one that anyone in the now quiet tavern wanted to mess with. The bartender, rubbing his chest from having been pummeled, spoke first, harsh and loud.

"Look, we don't want trouble. Why don't the two of you just move it along?"

She side-stepped, never breaking eye contact with the tavern-keeper and reached out for her sword. A silver cross flashed brightly on its blade, as she pulled it close to her.

They walked backwards, eyes scanning the room, daring anyone to move or speak. No one tried, a little disappointing, though not that suprising.

The door opened, almost of its own accord, and the two mysterious warriors disappeared, relegated to the role of fable and legend.

Inside a rental ship, Paine collapsed in a tattered seat and leaned her head against the wall. Vincent sat down more slowly, placing his beloved firearm on the seat next to him. Paine smiled.

"Getting' tired there, old man?" she asked. He shook his head but didn't say anything.

"So what now?" she asked, as if he would actually answer.

"Do we just keep looking? How many bars do we have to get thrown out of? You'd think somewhere in this cursed system there'd be someone with a half-decent ship."

Vincent let her talk. She ranted like this sometimes when she was tired, or frustrated. Most of the time, they didn't speak at all, just fought, ran, fought some more…

He didn't voice his opinions, making her wonder if he even had any.

"That was a good move, coming in from the ceiling like that," she complimented. He nodded an acknowledgement, but as usual, didn't reply.

"Alright, there's one more world in this part of the system. We'll check around there, in some more respectable places tomorrow, and hope we succeed. We can't keep cabbing in this rental ships, they don't go far." She paused.

"Get some rest, old man. The universe will still be there tomorrow."

It had an annoying habit of doing that.