And here we are! The last chapter of part 1 of the Centran Legacy, and things are pretty quiet for the moment – like the calm before the storm (apocalypse). World War is looming on the horizon, but at least Seed have won their first battle against the Puppet Master – or so they think...

Incidentally, is anyone out there looking for a new ebook? Not this – a new, original piece. I'm just sorting out the cover, then it'll be ready for launch. And yes, I am canvassing for support, reviews, and anything else that could raise its profile. Marketing is definitely not my strong point. And if you like my work, why not read the sample chapter + prologue when it's out? Come on... pretty please?

Riemann Hypothesis – I did wonder about why Nathan would have named the city Esthar, as he didn't seem the type to name it after himself. (Nathan Esthar?) As for who the Puppet Master is, I'm not saying – although after this chapter, you should have 3 main suspects (Assuming the Puppet Master's real identity has appeared in the story yet, which may not be the case) which I'll outline in the next chapter. As for the Puppet Master, he did have a reason for the torture, but it isn't what you think, and it certainly isn't good for Marcus. Odine will make an appearance later, but he won't be a match for the Puppet Master. Odine may be a scientific genius, but the Puppet Master has a talent for strategic planning that makes Machiavelli look like a rank amateur, and that's not all...

I am Centran.

As a Centran, I am superior.

Through superiority, control.

Through control, power.

Through power, victory.

Through victory, conquest.

Through conquest, Empire.

Catechism (literally, statement of faith) of soldiers of the Centran Empire, believed to be centuries old at the time of the Centran Rebellion. There have been persistent rumours that the rebels had their own catechism, but since no record of the words has ever been found, this is rarely believed. The only noteworthy statement on public record regarding this was from General Nathan, hero of the Centran Rebellion and founder of Esthar, who said "The rumours are wrong. There was never any triumphant, morale-raising catechism in support of the rebels. As for how the rumour started, I will make no comment. We should respect the dead, and leave them to rest in peace. Especially those who were never shown the proper respect in life."

Chapter 19: Starting Over?

For once, Squall was on his own. Rinoa was talking about something with General Estoc, Quistis was handling public relations, Irvine and Selphie were... occupied, and Zell was stuffing his face with hotdogs. As for Seifer, as long as he didn't start a fight, Squall couldn't care less.

Finally, he could relax, without anyone pestering him or trying to give some worthless so-called advice. Life had been a lot simpler when he'd always been alone, and people had given him space, without filling the silence with meaningless chatter.

But had his life been better? He thought not, but at times like these, he wasn't so sure. He had friends now, but did that make him weaker? Slow him down? Distract him from...

He noticed someone making their way towards him. Arthur Ferris, part of Ferris Industries and younger brother of the idiot who was trying to get elected as the Estharian president and start a war with Galbadia. Squall didn't know much about Ferris Industries, but Estoc had given him a quick rundown on what to expect from the Ferris brothers.

Arthur's a cold-blooded workaholic, even by your standards. Mother died when he was very young. The brothers have never liked each other, or agreed on anything. No known relationships, doesn't seem interested in women at all – or men, come to that. Highly intelligent, and always one step ahead of the competition. You should get on with him well enough, but watch yourself. He's all business, all the time, so if he tells or gives you anything he doesn't have to, it's because he knows he'll make a substantial profit from it sooner or later, and probably a lot sooner than you think.

Which meant Arthur wanted to discuss Seed business. Well, that was fine by Squall.

"Ah, Commander Squall Leonhart. You've made an excellent showing of Seed capabilities in battle, but I was curious about other areas. For example, how would you handle a covert operation?"

"Most of our... better known operatives wouldn't be involved, but we do have other agents who specialise in those areas. Apart from myself, only the Seed operatives chosen by the client would know anything about the contract, although we do insist they have all the information about their objectives. We don't send people in blind, naturally."

"Naturally." Arthur nodded. "And how do you choose which contracts to accept?"

"Well..." Squall talked about moral responsibility and international anti-terrorist laws, nearly all of which he'd memorised earlier. He knew when something was right and when something was wrong, but legal accountability had never been his field. But since he was supposedly the boss (except when Headmaster Cid took an interest, or whenever Quistis was involved, or Xu couldn't balance the accounts, or when Rinoa decided otherwise) everyone had to hear it from Commander Squall Leonhart.

Even if Squall didn't have a clue, or give a damn, about what he was saying.

Arthur was directing the conversation towards corporate espionage, which meant he was going after his brother. Of course nothing he said could be taken as actual proof of that in any way, but it wasn't hard to tell his intentions.

Not that Squall had any objections. If Arthur took over Ferris Industries, the odds of war between Esthar and Galbadia would plummet, and hopefully stay that way. And Seed having a good working relationship with a leading arms manufacturer would be the icing on the cake, of course.

The discussion continued. Arthur must have known that Squall was only a novice on Seed procedure, but didn't do or say anything to show he'd realised. Probably because he knows he's got nothing to gain... Things were going well, which usually meant things were about to suddenly get worse.

Then he saw Rinoa coming towards him, which proved his point. She was the natural opposite of Arthur, and despite what everyone kept saying, opposites didn't always attract. Like sweet and spicy, or in this case, more like matter and antimatter.

"Ah, Miss Heartilly. Congratulations on the liberation of Timber. Your leadership of the Forest Owls resistance movement showed excellent strategy."

The source of that strategy kept his mouth shut. He'd never wanted to be famous, but couldn't somebody, just once, at least allow him to take a little bit of credit for what he'd done? Riona's resistance group had been the chocolate teapot of resistance groups before he'd been assigned to them.

"Really?" Rinoa wasn't pleased. "And why are you taking such an interest in Timber all of a sudden?"

"Oh, it's not sudden." Arthur's voice was perfectly calm and pleasant. "And it's not just me, either. Timber's independence is attracting all sorts of attention, both political and economical."

"Timber's already in poverty, and you want more money out of them?"

"Timber's poverty is all the more reason that Timber needs to invest in their infrastructure, which Ferris industries... well, my part of it, anyway... is best placed to support." If Arthur had been any less agitated, he would have been carved out of a block of ice. "And if you're accusing me of profiteering, I really must protest. My trading standards exceed every legal requirement, and I have given them very favourable terms. Rich, loyal customers are far more profitable than poor and desperate ones, obviously, so it's in my best interests to help Timber back to prosperity. And despite being the market leader, I do have my competitors, all of whom would be only too eager to take advantage if I exploited the situation."

"So you're helping them out of the goodness of your heart, is that it?"

"Of course not." Arthur half-smirked, half-smiled. "It's a mutually beneficial business arrangement. They're happy, I'm happy. Ask them yourself, and you'll find they're very grateful for my help. And the gratitude of a nation is a very valuable thing to have." He turned to leave. "I'll be in contact about what we discussed, Commander. I'm sure hiring Seed would prove to be a valuable investment."

"Thank you, Mr Ferris." Squall nodded, keeping polite while also keeping an eye on Rinoa, making sure her fuming hadn't reached dangerous levels.

"Who the Hyne does he think he is?" Rinoa scowled. "The gratitude of a nation... He's after Timber's natural resources!"

"Of course he is." Estoc said from behind, and Squall almost jumped. "Everyone is. Galbadia just took what they wanted when they were in control, but now Timber is free, all kinds of raw materials are up for sale. And many industries, and governments, want what's on offer."

"So he's going to extort them?" Rinoa was shocked.

"No, no." Estoc shook his head. "The people of Timber aren't that stupid. They know what their resources are worth, and they won't give them away for nothing."

"But Arthur will be getting a good deal, right?" Squall understood. "That's why he's helping them now."

"Of course, but it's not just that. Some of Timber's more valuable resources are difficult to refine and slow to produce, so there's always a lot more demand than there is product to sell. If Arthur gets preferential treatment there, they'd give him the right to buy a far bigger share than any of his competitors. He'd dominate the market without even trying."

"And we're helping him?" Rinoa sighed, admitting the point.

"Would you rather help his brother?" Squall asked. "Christopher wants to kill Galbadians, Arthur wants to sell stuff to them. Christopher wants a world war, Arthur wants a worldwide brand name. And you're having trouble picking sides?"

"Arthur's finally making his move." Estoc nodded. "It took him long enough."

"You were encouraging him, right?" Squall was puzzled. "You want Christopher taken care of so badly, why not do it yourself?"

"Bad idea, Commander." Estoc raised an eyebrow. "Very bad idea. The only thing every country and section of society can agree on right now is that they hate the government. The warmongers hate us for being spineless cowards who surrender to the enemy, the pacifists hate us for rushing headlong into war, and everyone hates us for being too soft on other countries and too harsh towards our own people."

"That doesn't make sense." Rinoa protested.

"It's Public opinion." Estoc shrugged. "It never does. Laguna's still popular, so that helps with the worst of it, but everyone's looking for an enemy. And since we're the government, we're the easiest target."

"So you can't interfere." Squall pointed out.

"We always interfere, Commander." Said Estoc. "But we can't be seen to interfere. We can help things along, but someone else has to be publicly responsible for what happens, so the government isn't officially involved. Which is why this is our best option. Company takeovers happen all the time, and if Arthur takes over Ferris Industries, Christopher won't have the financial and political backing needed to be elected President or start a war with Galbadia."

"But there'll be others taking his place, right?" Said Squall.

"Unfortunately, yes." Replied Estoc. "A lot of people want war, and some are rich and powerful enough to influence their countries to get it. Once Christopher is dealt with, we should be able to cope with the others for a while... at least in Esthar. I don't have that much confidence in General Caraway's abilities to deal with Galbadian extremists, but for the time being we don't have much of a choice."

"More trouble. Is there anyone here who isn't trying to start a war?" Squall looked around, and saw a depressed-looking man in a cheap suit, with everyone around him seeming to take detours to avoid getting too close. "Who's that? And what's his problem?"

"He's the Dollet Minister of Culture." Said Estoc. "And he's, well, the Dollet Minister of Culture."

"He doesn't look that bad." Rinoa pointed out. "What did he do? Bribery? Fraud? Tax evasion?"

"Oh no, nothing like that." Said Estoc. "He's actually very honest, especially for a politician. Even I couldn't dig up any dirt on him. But then he got promoted, and given the job of organising the Victory in Dollet Day celebrations."

"What day?" Rinoa frowned. "I've never heard of that."

"Well, you've heard of Victory in Esthar Day, yes? When we defeated the Sorceress, with your help, and saved not only the city, but possibly the free world as well? At least, that's what all the posters said."

"VE Day." Said Squall. Laguna might have all the restraint and caution of a suicidal lemming that had just found out it had rabies, but even he had to admit the Estharian President could throw one hell of a party. And VE Day has certainly been that. "Waste of money."

"Scrooge."

"Actually, VE Day was considered a great success." Estoc continued. "So Dollet wanted the same thing. They chose the day they fought off that little invasion from Glabadia, again with your help, and declared it a national holiday. Victory in Dollet Day."

"And?" It sounded dumb to Squall, but he didn't see how anyone could screw up a national holiday. You just gave almost everyone the day off work and held parties in the street, right? Easy. "What did he do wrong?"

"Well, I suppose he didn't actually do anything so badly wrong. It's just that he was in charge, and he didn't notice it until he'd spent all the money on posters, CG graphics, adverts, presentation material and branded souvenirs. All with the shortened version of the holiday name."

"And?" Rinoa looked as puzzled as Squall felt. "What happened?"

"You still don't get it?" Estoc tutted. "Think about it for a moment. What did everyone call Victory in Esthar Day? The shortened version?"

"VE Day, of course." Said Rinoa. "So Victory in Dollet Day becomes..." Her voice tailed off as she realised.

So did Squall. "VD Day? They were going to celebrate VD Day? Why in Hyne's name would anyone... How much stuff did they make?"

"Enough for the whole country." Estoc smirked. "And then some. Newly promoted, you see. He got a bit too enthusiatic."

"So what did he do after they fired him?" Asked Squall.

Estoc said nothing.

"They did fire him. Didn't they?"

"Not exactly, Commander. You see, at the time they hadn't announced any of it to the public yet, and after wasting such a fat wedge of taxpayers cash on a celebration of... well, they had to keep everything quiet. If they sacked him, questions would have been asked, and the truth would have gotten out. That's politics, after all. Some people are given positions because they know too many secrets, and some people only keep their positions because it's too embarrassing to get rid of them." Estoc shrugged. "Besides, they've got bigger things to worry about, as do we all. Dollet's army isn't big enough to cause much trouble for Esthar or Galbadia, but their navy has always been highly trained, heavily armed, and ready for battle. When war begins, Dollet will be involved from day one. They can't afford not to be."

"And all because of the Second Sorceress War." Rinoa shook her head. "If only Ultimecia hadn't..."

"Hardly." Said Estoc. "If it hadn't been for that Sorceress, we'd already be at war. After everyone realised they'd been stupid and so easily tricked, they're more cautious than they normally would be. And right now, that might be the only thing stopping us from another world war."

"For how long?" Squall muttered.

"Not long enough." Said Estoc. "We have contingency plans ready for every situation I can think of, but their effectiveness will probably be limited at best, beyond eliminating a few key figures."

Squall could have asked if one of those situations involved a Sorceress being suspected of starting a war, and if Estoc had a contingency plan to kill Rinoa. But he didn't say anything, for two reasons.

One, he knew General Estoc would have said no.

And two, he knew Estoc would be lying.

"Your sword... The Curse of the Betrayer? Do you believe in it?"

"I don't know." Said Marcus. "Every known owner of the sword was betrayed and murdered, but not every owner was known, and not every record may be accurate. And the sword itself was one of the greatest treasures of the Empire, wanted by every Centran who ever held a weapon. To wield the Blade of the Betrayer was to be a target. The curse may be nothing more than that."

"But you don't sound convinced." Ellone pointed out.

"I don't know. But it might be why I survived."

"Why you survived? Isn't the curse supposed to mean that the one you trust most will..." Ellone suddenly realised. "But you never trusted anyone, did you? Not once?"

"No. To trust someone is to lower your guard to them. I was to be the perfect warrior, and trust was a weakness I was not permitted to have."

"What about Nathan?"

"He was an ally. He was capable, he was loyal..."

"But did you really trust him?"

Marcus stood in silence, then shook his head. "No."

"So if the curse is real, doesn't that make you immortal?" Ellone tried to laugh, but couldn't quite manage it. "I mean, the one you trust most in the world, right now, that would..." Her voice tailed off, as her thoughts suddenly caught up with her. "Wait a minute. ME?"

Marcus appeared to be slightly surprised, although even for her, it was hard to tell. "Yes." He said finally. "That does make sense."

"How does ANYTHING about that make sense? Me? Kill you? Leaving aside my chances of success for a moment, which are about the equivalent of a single snowflake putting out a blast furnace, why would I want to? To get your sword? I don't..."

"My sword is yours."

"Well, thank you, but I don't want it. I'm sure your sword is the best out there, but if I wanted a sword, I'd want one that wasn't cursed."

"I could get you another..."

"And back to my main point, AGAIN... I don't. Want. A sword. When it comes to shiny pieces of metal, I'd prefer a necklace. I'm a fairly normal girl in that respect."

"Girls prefer necklaces to swords?"

"Well, not just necklaces, but... usually, yes. Me and Rinoa, anyway. Selphie would probably want the latest gadget... or a portable expresso maker, but I think Irvine already got her one of those. Quistis... might actually prefer a sword, come to think of it. Wait, what was I saying?" She wondered why a curse she didn't believe in was getting her so irritated. "I'm not killing you. And certainly not for a sword. I wouldn't kill anyone to steal something, whatever it is." She tried to calm herself. "So the curse is fake, right? It has to be. Right?"

"Perhaps. Unless Ghost's theory was correct."

"Ghost?" The GEC tech expert had seemed like a decent guy, unlike... "Psion didn't have a theory?"

"Psion regarded superstition as a useful tool to control people, but nothing more than that. He saw the curse as an excuse people invented, to hide their greed to possess the Sword of the Betrayer. Ghost wasn't sure about the curse itself, but he suggested the actual meaning of the curse might be different."

"Different? How?"

"In that the curse meant the one you trust the most would be the cause of your death. They would usually be the killer, but they didn't have to be."

"That doesn't sound any better." Ellone frowned. "And it doesn't make it any more believable, because I'm not going to cause your death, either."

"Not by choice. But the fight when we first met – what if I had died then? If Ghost was right, that would have satisfied the curse."

"I don't get it." Ellone shook her head. "If the terrorists killed you, why would I be the one to blame?"

"I would never blame you." Said Marcus. "But if they had killed me, then you could have been considered as the cause of my death. I only went to the speech because you were there."

"But that doesn't mean..."

"When the fighting began, I didn't get involved. I didn't even know what each side was, or what they were fighting for. But when one side attacked you, I killed them. Then, when I thought the other side were against you, I attacked them as well. Without you, I would not have been involved."

"So I forced you to risk your life?" Ellone didn't feel good about that. "That's not much better than betraying you."

"Why?" Marcus seemed mystified. "I am a weapon of war. I look human, and I was created from what could have been human, but I am not human. I can never be human. To fight, to kill, is all I am. There is no other meaning to my existence."

"But you can change that! You can choose to..."

"I can't change the nature of my existence. I can't choose not to fight. I have to fight. All I can choose is why." Said Marcus. "Protecting you... Is a good reason. The right reason. You saw my memories. You know I've killed for worse reasons." He paused. "Or for no reason at all."

"And I know that wasn't your fault. You were doing what you were told, but you didn't understand why it was wrong, and you didn't know there was another way. You can't take all the blame for choosing evil instead of good, when you didn't even know there was anything but evil in the first place! Can't you see that?"

"I can see perfectly. My eyesight is..."

"Enhanced, I know. Perfect 20/20 eyes." Ellone's voice dropped to a murmur. "It's the brain behind them that's the problem."

"What?"

"Never mind." She sighed. "At times like these, I wish these 'Chronos' abilities weren't so limited. You know, that I actually could change the past, and all that."

"You can't?" Marcus didn't sound certain.

"Well, of course I can't... Wait. You grew up with Melissa, and you didn't know the limits of her powers?"

"I knew her limits. I knew she could not change the past." Marcus stated. "But you are stronger, far more powerful than she ever was. I do not know your limits."

"So I can change the past?" Ellone couldn't believe it.

"I don't know." Said Marcus. "I know she tried to use it after the Lunar Cry, to save the millions of lives lost in Centra City when I sabotaged their defences. She failed."

"And since she wasn't speaking to you by that point, you never knew why." Ellone realised something. "Hold on. Psion allowed her to try? The Lunar Cry, the sabotage, the massacre... that was all his idea! And he just let her try and undo it all? Why?"

"Because he knew it wouldn't work. He said it was impossible for her."

"For her?" Ellone felt excited and scared, at the same time. She'd tried to change her past, to keep her family of Raine and Laguna together, to keep them alive whatever it took. But despite sending Squall into the past, into Laguna's mind and body of that time in a desperate attempt to change what had happened, it hadn't worked. She'd had to come to terms with what had happened, and accept it.

But... what if she was wrong? There was only one person who might know, and even though it was someone she was pretty sure she'd hate if they'd ever met, she had to ask their opinion. "But did Psion think it was impossible for anyone? You said the Centran scientists thought Melissa could unlock 'god-like' powers, right?"

"True, but they didn't know what those powers would be. All GECs were meant to be superior to humans, but the effects of Melissa's genetic pattern was the only unknown. Psion believed changing the past was theoretically possible, but only if both components of her power were strong enough, and testing a component separately was impossible at that time. He said the genetic pattern might have been strong enough to be capable of changing the past, or it might need further refinement. But he also said there was no way to tell, as the second component, Melissa herself, was far too weak to be even remotely capable of such a thing."

"What about my grandfa... I mean, Melissa's son? Didn't Melissa refuse to have him tested?"

"Psion said that the son was as flawed as the mother."

"So Psion did test him? Figures. Still..." The idea that she might be able to change the past was drowning out every other thought she had. It was impossible, but... impossible things had been happening a lot lately. "So I can control time." Maybe. "Or can I?"

"I do not know." Said Marcus. "At that time, it was only a theory, not a threat nor a weapon. So it meant nothing to me."

"So it's a maybe, instead of a no. That's something, anyway." But was it good or bad? Or something in-between? Even if she could change the past, did she have the right to? And what would happen if she did? If she changed the past, then the present changed too, in ways impossible to predict. People could suddenly cease to exist, and nobody would even remember them. Including her. One wrong move, and...

Then she realised Marcus hadn't said anything. That was strange. With what they'd just been talking about, there was something he had to ask for, something he wanted. What everyone wanted when they found out what she could do. Sometimes for a good reason, like Squall, sometimes not, but they always wanted it.

But Marcus hadn't said a thing. And he had more reason to want it than anyone else she'd ever met.

She looked at him, and he looked back, but that was all. And Marcus wasn't the type to hide things. Either he wasn't interested, which was impossible, or he hadn't thought about it, which was absurd.

"Well?" Her patience ran out. "Aren't you going to ask?"

"Ask what?"

"Ask me to change your past. You know, arrange things to let you escape out of the GECs, or stop them experimenting on you in the first place."

"NO!" His reaction took her completely by surprise. "You can't change my past! You mustn't! Not my past! Any other past, but not mine!"

"What?" He looked ready to panic, which made even less sense than his usual actions, which were hard enough to understand as they were. "But if I can change your past, then maybe I can give you a normal life, right? Don't you want that?"

"No! You can't do that." He grabbed her arm. "That cannot be allowed to happen."

"Let go!" Ellone tried to pull her arm free, but Marcus was crushing it like a vice. "I said let go! You're hurting me!"

Marcus suddenly let go, jumping away from her. "You can't change my past. You can't!"

"Fine, I won't. It was just a thought." She rubbed her arm, trying to get the feeling back. Marcus couldn't have gripped any harder if he'd been a robot. "But why not? You've more reason to want to change your past than anyone, so why don't aren't you taking the chance? After all that happened to you, why don't you want to change it?"

"It cannot change. What I want is irrelevant. My past must remain as it is. It is the only way."

"The only way to what?" Ellone couldn't believe what Marcus was saying. He hated his past, she knew that. He believed himself beyond redemption, however much she and others tried to persuade him otherwise. But when offered a way out, he not only didn't take it, but was desperate to avoid it? "What could possibly be so important that you had to suffer so much, for so long, just to..."

"To stop Project Ouroborous. As long as that was achieved, nothing else matters."

"Ah." Yes, the Centran Emperor's plan to genetically lobotomise every non-Centran, permanently, before they were even conceived. That was certainly important. "But... that doesn't mean you had to..."

"No." Marcus stated. "I had to. Others were involved, but I was the driving force. I demanded that the Emperor be killed, I launched the attack. I stopped Ouroborous. But I only had the power to do so, because of what they did to me. If I was not GEC, I would have been helpless, even if I had known. So who would have taken my place? The best GEC at fighting would have been Shard, and she would have not stopped Ouroborous. She would have enjoyed enforcing it."

"Well, that... No." She shook her head. "The other GECs didn't want Ouroborous to happen either. They would have done something. They would have..."

"Lost. And died. They might have delayed it, but Ouroborous would still have gone ahead. Opposing it wasn't enough. They had to destroy it, leave no chance that it could ever happen again. They had to win, against the Empire. And the Empire had never been beaten before. To do that, they needed a perfect weapon, that nothing in the world could match. They needed me."

"And you won. You stopped Ouroborous. But..."

"And this." He pointed at himself. "Was the cost."

"But that's wrong! All of it! It shouldn't be this way!"

"But it is. And it cannot change. Ouroborous can never be allowed to happen. Against that, all else is irrelevant."

"Even when you're the only one who has to pay the price?" Ellone couldn't resist making the comment, even though it sounded petty.

"Who else could I trust?"

"And you don't trust anyone." She didn't want to admit defeat, but the argument was pretty much lost. Even if she did have the power, his past could never be changed. The risk was just too great. No matter how much Marcus deserved to be happy, if his freedom from the GECs could only be bought with the lives of everyone born since the Centran Rebellion, then it wasn't going to happen.

And in changing the course of history so much, would she disappear from existence? Or would her existence change, and if so, what would she become? A mindless slave, barely able to think or communicate? Or a pureblood Centran, a privileged descendant of one of the original GECs and a loyal servant of the Empire? She wasn't sure which was worse...

"Do you have anything to declare?"

"Huh?" Caryn took a moment to remember she was at Balamb customs. "Oh. No, nothing." She lined up to have her luggage scanned, and passed through without incident. Her mind began to drift off, wondering yet again why she was here, and what she thought she was doing.

Enrolling at Balamb Garden? Becoming a Seed mercenary? Being a hero? Saving the world? She'd had those dreams once, when she'd enlisted at Trabia Garden. Everything had been so much fun, back then. She'd got on well with all the other new local students on the first day, and although the studying and training was hard work, she was doing what she wanted to do, and she'd never felt better in her life. Her new friends had welcomed her as part of the team, trusted her, and they'd all vowed that they'd always be there for each other when it counted, and promised, no matter what, to be friends forever.

But forever hadn't lasted very long at all. Nearly all of them were dead now, most of them instantly from when the missiles hit Trabia Garden, with some unlucky enough to cling on for a few more days before their injuries finally claimed their lives. Of the few that survived, the physical wounds healed up eventually, but something inside stayed broken. They'd split up after that, all going in different directions in search of something they knew they'd never find. Caryn had promised to keep in contact, just like the rest of them, and just like the rest of them, she'd been lying. Seeing each other would remind them of what they lost, and none of them could handle that much pain. So they'd all given up and disappeared, just like her.

Except Selphie, who'd kept trying to get them back together. She'd been the toughest of them all, calling for vounteers to launch a counter-attack. Not many Trabian cadets joined her, but a few did. Caryn wanted to, but she couldn't face it. Not after what happened.

Only she couldn't forget, either. She couldn't do anything. And now she'd come here, to train as a mercenary again, even after what happened the last time...

So why had she come here?

Because I've nowhere else to go.

The truth hurt, but she had to admit that Balamb Garden was her last chance. She'd tried running, and hiding, living a normal life as a civilian, but none of it had worked. She'd been terrified of someone coming to kill her, and when someone actually had, she'd been helpless. But then everything had turned upside down, and she'd actually killed someone, and now Squall had accepted her for training. Selphie said Squall only bothered with people who were good enough to do the job, so if he said she was good enough, then she was.

But what if he was wrong? She helped against the terrorists, but that was just luck. She wasn't disciplined, she wasn't focused. When it got dangerous, she couldn't even...

"HALT!" Somebody shouted, and she turned just in time for someone to slam into her and send her flying. The guy running past her only made it a few more steps before a security guard tackled him to the ground, then, after a brief struggle, he was cuffed and dragged away.

Another security guard helped her to her feet, apologising for the disturbance. Caryn assured him she was fine, and then suddenly realised how completely and utterly pathetic she really was.

A thief who hadn't even been trying to hurt her, and she'd been helpless. She was supposed to be enrolling in Balamb Garden, a prestigious school for elite mercenaries, the best of the best, and she couldn't even handle a petty crook. These security guards would never be anywhere near the level of Seed mercenaries, but they'd still handled the situation well, when she couldn't do a damn thing.

She was worthless. She'd always be worthless. So why was she here?

Caryn turned back. She'd leave, head somewhere else. There was no point in being here. Balamb Garden probably wouldn't even bother looking for her. It was time to stop pretending. She wasn't a fighter, she wasn't capable. She was too weak to do anything worth anything, or mean anything to anyone. She knew that. She'd always known that.

But...

What will I be in the future?

If she ran away now, then nothing would change. She would always be exactly the same as she was right now. But if she enrolled at Balamb Garden...

Then she might become stronger. She might become a mercenary, a Seed. A force to be reckoned with? A hero?

Hardly. She'd almost certainly humilate herself, maybe even get herself killed. But at least she wouldn't have to live like she did in Esthar, crying herself to sleep, screaming herself awake from the nightmares of her friends getting blown apart in front of her eyes. As long as she didn't have to go back to that, she could cope. Joining Balamb Garden would change her life forever, and whatever her life became, it had to be better than this.

Caryn left customs, and headed to Balamb Garden, wondering who her close combat instructor would be. Hopefully, it wouldn't be Squall. He was cold, harsh, and an obsessive workaholic, and trying to learn from someone like that would really be a problem.

"Here we are." Ellone stopped at a respectable house in a well-appointed but nondescript district. It was the kind of place where everything looked pretty much the same as everything else, and people were satisfied to keep it that way. "Now to gain entry... Ah." She pushed the branches of an ornamental bush to one side, and pressed her hand against a grubby bit of plastic stuck against the wall.

"Entry? Why are we here?"

"Somewhere to rest up for the night."

"You live here? But I was told..."

"No, nobody lives here exactly. It was Estoc's idea to have a few safehouses scattered around Esthar that we could use for emergencies, or when we didn't want public attention. There we go..." There was a clicking noise, and the door swung open. "Palmprint security scan. I was really amazed the first time I tried it, although it's probably pretty commonplace by Centran standards."

"I wouldn't know. I was a test subject, then a soldier, then a rebel. I was never a citizen of the Empire. I never knew how they lived."

"Maybe that's why you're different." Ellone went inside. "Why their madness didn't infect you?"

"Infection? Centran bioscience would never allow such..."

"I don't mean literally. I mean..." She thought about it. "The way they treated others. I mean... Slaves. That's wrong right there, but... Seeing all those people as worthless, just because of something so petty and meaningless... For them to accept Project Ouroborous as a good thing, when it would destroy their minds, their lives... everything! How could anyone even consider allowing it to happen?"

"They were Centran. Maybe a few would have thought it excessive... Perhaps. But it was the will of the Emperor, and not to be questioned. And to them, slaves were not human. They were resources, to be used."

"But not to you?"

"Me?" Marcus thought. "No, not to me. I could not see them as inferior."

"Could not?" Ellone was intrigued. "Not did not? You make it sound like it wasn't your choice. What made you feel that way?"

Marcus was silent.

"Sorry. You don't have to tell me if..."

"They were superior, not inferior." He spoke quietly, barely more than a whisper. "They were what I wanted to be, and never could. They were human, and I was not. I was jealous." Silence. "I still am."

"I can understand being jealous of their lives, but... You still think you're not human?"

"I don't need to think. I know. And you saw my past. You know what I did."

"Yes, I know." Ellone nodded. "But I still don't think you're right. I don't think you understand what it means to be human."

"Your thoughts are your own. But I know enough. I know what I am." Said Marcus. "And what I am not."

It was possibly the most polite way anyone had ever told her she was wrong. Ellone started to argue, then stopped.

Marcus wasn't going to change his mind, no matter what she said. Arguing was pointless... at least for now. She needed a strategy, a plan of attack. Some proof that he was human, in a way even he couldn't dismiss. But right now, she couldn't think of anything.

She didn't want to leave it like this, but she had no choice. For now, anyway. "Well, let's leave that for now. Only one bedroom, so... Which bed do you want?"

"Bed?"

"Yes." No response. "You know, those comfortable things people sleep on?" What is it about Marcus that always makes me so sarcastic? "You didn't think you were going to stand guard all night, did you?"

"Yes."

"No. You've done enough self-sacrifice for this week. Estoc designed the security systems for this safehouse himself, and they're more than enough to protect anyone, including the government of Esthar. We're safe, so you're off duty."

"But..."

"Do I have to make it an order?" She'd backed down on the inhuman thing, but she wasn't giving way on this.

"No." Marcus said finally. "I will sleep with you as you wish."

"And that's one more to add to the list of things you'll never say in public again. Never ever, understand? Great. No need to bother with a change of clothes, and... What are you doing now?" Ellone watched Marcus pulling the bedsheets and pillow off his bed and dumping them on the floor. "If this is some kind of 'Spartan' thing, forget it. Using a mattress for once isn't going to ruin your fighting skills."

"It's not that." Marcus seemed hesitant. "I have a problem with beds."

"Really?" Ellone could only think of two possibilities, an allergy or a bad back. The first was absurd, given that he'd been genetically modified not to have any weaknesses, and the second was completely impossible, given that he had a overall fitness level exceeding the limits of almost every human being on the planet. "What kind of problem?"

"I keep falling out."

Ellone laughed, and couldn't stop. "You fall out of bed! How do you... I mean, why... Well, doesn't it hurt?"

"Not much. I don't wake up every time it happens."

"But why? What makes you move around so much?"

"My dreams. They don't allow me to be still."

"Oh." She stopped laughing. "Bad dreams?"

"I have no other kind." Said Marcus.

"Ah." The laughter was long gone, and guilt had arrived in force. "I'm sorry."

"You keep saying that. But you are not to blame." Marcus had finished with his makeshift sleeping area. "You cannot change things that happened long before you were born. That is not your failing. What has been, is done with."

"I know, I know." Ellone sighed. "But I'm still sorry, anyway. I know I couldn't do anything, but there were lots people around that could have done something. That should have done something. And I don't understand why they didn't."

"They wanted a weapon that could destroy any enemy. Whatever that required, they did it. Nothing else mattered to them."

"And the weapon the Empire wanted, destroyed the Empire. I suppose that could be poetic justice."

"Justice is poetic?"

"Sometimes. But you can sleep where you want. It's not a problem."

"It will be." Said Marcus. "My thrashing around will disturb you."

"I won't mind." Ellone fell onto her bed in a way that would shock any followers of her high-society news reports. "Just go to sleep."

Everything went quiet, apart from Ellone's thoughts, which were shouting at her at full volume. Only a few days ago, she'd had a fairly normal life, with nothing much to really worry about and far too grown up to believe in knights in shining armour. Then she'd gone to a speech with Laguna, not really a big event, and then terrorists attacked and were about to kill her. And then he'd appeared.

Not exactly a knight, but the last survivor of a race believed extinct, with most of the world only regretting that they hadn't died out sooner. And no armour, shining or otherwise. Not that he needed any, as getting shot and stabbed repeatedly wasn't something that seemed to bother him. It wasn't always something he noticed, either...

And everything had changed, her predictable life exploding into chaos and heading nobody knew where. She'd been resigned to spending her whole life never knowing where her strange powers came from, or what she was supposed to do with them. Her unique ability to control the flow of time would have always been a mystery.

But it wasn't unique, and she wasn't supposed to do anything. She, or rather her great-grandmother Melissa, was the product of an experiment, an attempt to give Centran purebloods godlike powers. And because Ellone had wanted so much to change the past, the power had awakened in her.

Finding out her family had been hidden in Esthar by General Nathan had been funny, though. The first time she came here, she'd felt a connection to this place, somehow. A feeling of belonging. At the time, she'd put it down to a childish fantasy, but now she wasn't so sure.

She wasn't sure how she felt about a lot of things, including being Centran. Well, one eighth, but that was enough for most people to want to kill her if they ever found out. Yet more lies, more things she had to hide...

Although she wasn't alone in hiding the past. A century ago, there had been millions of purebloods in the Centran Empire, and they had been the absolute rulers of the world, with the power of life and death over every human that walked the planet, and now...

Just one left. In less than a hundred years, an Empire that dominated the world had been reduced to a single person that nobody knew about.

And that scared her. If something so important could be destroyed so easily, and forgotten so quickly, then could everything that was so important to them be swept away even faster? Was anything safe in this world?

And then there was Marcus. All things considered, he seemed to be getting on relatively well with everyone. She couldn't say he was actually friends with anyone, (herself included, sadly) but he was surprisingly calm and polite with nearly everyone. Very surprisingly when it came to Quistis, considering that their first meeting consisted of her trying to blow his brains out with a sniper rifle.

Of course, Quistis had been remarkably mature about the matter as well, considering that Marcus had counter attacked with a grenade, burying her and Caryn under a pile of rubble and nearly crushing them to death. In fact, forgetting about the entire incident seemed to be in everyone's best interests.

And now, everything was quiet. Too quiet. Wasn't Marcus supposed to be thrashing around? Or couldn't he get to sleep? He'd said earlier that in the Centran War, you had to learn to fall asleep immediately when you got the chance, or you hardly got to sleep at all.

She looked at him. Marcus was laid on his back, in his original position. He hadn't moved at all. She watched, sure that he was about to start flailing about, wondering if she should wake him up or not when he did.

But he didn't. Marcus was silent and motionless, his face perfectly calm and disturbingly lifeless. She guessed he must be asleep, but either he wasn't dreaming, or for once his dreams were not only allowing him to be still, but practically encouraging it.

Weird. Maybe he was just having a good night. But the way he'd said it, it seemed every night was bad...

Well, she'd keep watching him a little more. Just to make sure. Just to...

And the next thing she knew, it was morning.

Marcus awoke slowly, gradually opening his eyes.

This was wrong. Waking up from a relaxed state was not something he did, even when exhausted to the point of collapse. And apart from a few training sessions, for the past few days he'd hardly done anything that required much physical effort. Fatigue was clearly not an issue.

Which meant... he'd been drugged.

Marcus reached for his sword, then remembered it wasn't there, and jumped to his feet in a fighting stance. He wasn't injured or restrained, which meant the target had been Ellone. He didn't know why they'd only kidnapped her without trying to kill him, but there wasn't time to think about that now. He had to find the kidnappers as soon as possible.

He was about to break down the bedroom door when he remembered to check the bed.

Ellone was asleep. Her breathing was perfectly calm and measured, as it should be.

He looked around. There was no signs of anyone breaking in, no violence, no trace of disturbances of any kind. Also, any drugs capable of keeping him unconscious would have given him severe after-effects, but he didn't feel anything strange. Which meant... what?

Marcus checked his bedsheets on the floor. His body had left a single, deep impression on the sheets and the pillow, but the rest was puffed up. He hadn't moved all night.

This was impossible. This didn't happen. Not to him. It couldn't.

But it had. What had Psion said about impossibilities?

Impossible things cannot happen. If they do happen, then they are clearly not impossible, and therefore the flaw is either your understanding, when you have failed to realise something is in fact possible, or your awareness, when you have failed to notice something has changed to make it possible.

He understood his sleeping patterns, knew that sleeping peacefully was something he was incapable of doing. His understanding could not be at fault.

Which meant that something must have changed. Something was different. But what?

It was more comfortable than he was used to, but he had sometimes slept in far better during the Centran Rebellion. When settlements were captured, the rebels often went on a rampage, looting and rioting until almost nothing was left. The Blades were more disciplined than that, but even they chose to stay in the most luxurious accommodation available. It didn't make any difference to him, but Nathan had said Marcus joining them would raise team spirit and morale. Nathan was usually right about these things, so Marcus had gone along with it.

What else? Normal temperature, quiet and peaceful surrounding, but nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that could explain his abnormal sleep patterns. This had never happened before, so whatever had caused it must also never have happened before. But there was nothing in the room that was unique.

Maybe Ellone would have an idea. He looked at her, but she was still asleep.

Then he realised he was looking at what was unique about his sleeping quarters.

His train of thought derailed. This was impossible. This was something he could never accept.

But it was real.

When Ellone woke up, it took a few moments to remember where she was. Then she wondered if Marcus had been tossing and turning during the night. She looked around, and saw something she didn't expect.

Marcus was awake, of course, but she'd never thought he was the type to lie in. Him staring at the wall wasn't exactly normal, but for him, it wasn't that strange. The wide-open eyes were new, though.

And why is he so tense? "Ummm... Marcus?"

"Yes?" He reacted, and turned to face her. "What is it?"

Wow, now he's really tense. "Nothing much, I just thought... is something wrong?"

"No." His words were rushed. "Nothing."

Well, it looked like Quistis had been wrong. Marcus could, in fact, lie to her. He could do it about as well as a brick could swim, but he could try.

"Okay, fine." Still, she wasn't going to push things. She trusted him, even though she wasn't entirely sure why. "I didn't notice you moving in your sleep though. Does it only happen sometimes?"

"No. It happens every time I sleep."

"So it happened after I fell asleep, right?"

"No." Marcus shook his head. "It didn't happen. I didn't move at all."

"Hold on. You just said it always happens."

"It does." Said Marcus. "But this time, it did not."

"Right." The weirdness scale had gone through the roof. Again. "Maybe because you were relaxed? Didn't have anyone to fight? Something like that?"

"That is... possible." Marcus didn't sound convinced, and Ellone didn't blame him. She wasn't a psychologist, but even she knew trauma never disappeared just because it wasn't relevant any more. And especially not with what he'd been through.

"Well, who knows? Maybe you'll stay this way from now on. Now come on, we have to go and meet up with Squall. After we get some breakf..." She remembered Estoc talking about all the safehouses being fully provisioned with preserved food supplies. The kind that could keep for over a year, and still be just as inedible as the day they were freshly ... congealed. "Forget that. We'll stop at a vendor on the way. Just get ready to explain how nothing happened."

"But things did happen. We..."

"Not those things. Different things. Which didn't happen."

"What kind of things?"

"The kind of..." Ellone had never tried to tapdance on quicksand, but this seemed to be the feeling she'd get just before she started. "Never mind. Just remember that when they ask whether it happened, it didn't. Just look confused and completely ignorant of the whole thing."

"What if I can't look like that?"

"You've been doing it fine so far. I'm sure you'll manage somehow."

A display screen flicked on, showed the online copy of the Estharian Times. Ellone ignored it, getting ready to leave.

"They got my name wrong." Said Marcus.

"What?"

"My name is wrong." Marcus pointed to the screen. "I am Brute, not Beast."

"They called you a Beast? They can't just..." Ellone saw the front page, with the large photo of her and Marcus, and the headline Beauty and the Beast. "Oh."

The photo was... a case of exact timing, to say the least. Marcus was jumping over the security barrier with a suitably heroic expression, while she was holding onto him tightly while looking like the typical helpless female.

She scowled. She'd be fending off non-stop questions about this for weeks. Every time she went out in public. And there wasn't anything she could do about it, because it was against her principles to hurt people just because they insulted her.

Then again, that only applied to people, right? These were reporters. Not people at all, really...

The article detailed his first appearance that night, and later exploits that night, made frequent references to the knight in shining armour bit, and every other cliché imaginable. A few paragraphs on her previous love life – well, lack of it, at any rate – and how Marcus had easily made it into the top ten of the latest 'Most Eligible Guy in Esthar' poll, and could be nearing the top five.

Ellone was surprised about that last part. Marcus? Eligible? Why would anyone think that? All right, he was physically attractive, and certainly athletic, but anything from the neck up was a lost cause. He was embarrassingly blunt, unbelievably obvious, loyal to the point of abject stupidity, and was so incapable of thinking for himself that he was mindlessly obedient to the point of...

Actually, now that she thought about him like that, shouldn't he be in the top three?

Squall woke up, and realised he'd been sleeping in a chair, and not a comfortable one at that. This was surprising, as the Estharian Presidential Palace was not somewhere he expected to find a shortage of beds. Or a shortage of anything, apart from good taste. This was where Laguna lived, after all.

He was still wearing the suit he'd gone to that social shi... function, as well, which looked worse for wear. He tried to remember what had happened last night, but there was a blank spot in his memories. He could remember talking with Arthur Ferris, then General Estoc, then Rinoa wanted to talk about... Something. Something he'd better remember, and fast.

The door opened, and Irvine walked in. "Hey Squall! You're up early!"

Squall looked at his watch. "It's not early. It's late."

"Hey, c'mon. After what you did last night, you should take it easy."

"I don't have time to..." The penny dropped, and with it, Squall's authority, composure, and most of his self-respect. "Wait. What did I do?"

"You don't remember? Damn, Squall, how could you forget all that? It was unbelievable! Even I've never done anything that crazy!"

"What?" Squall skipped the fear stage, and went straight to blinding terror. "What did I do? Tell me!"

"Well, you remember talking to that arms dealer guy with Rin?"

"Yes, I remember that. What else?"

"Then Estoc?"

"Yes! What else?"

"You remember headbutting the Galbadia chief of staff?"

"I did WHAT?" Squall felt his head for bruises. "Why?"

"I don't know. You were hitting the booze, he said something about Rinoa... But after he collapsed, the riot spread pretty quickly."

"RIOT?"

"Relax. The press aren't sure who started it. Although they did get photos of you sweeping Rin off her feet and running out the building and onto the main road?"

"They what?"

"Then the lorry swerved, and went into a bus, and... well, so it was a big pile up, but nobody actually died, right? That's gotta be worth something!"

Squall pressed his gunblade against Irvine's neck. "What really happened?"

"Too over the top?" Irvine shrugged. "I'll be more subtle next time."

"You want there to be a next anything, start talking."

"Okay, okay. You were in a bad mood all the time, had another argument with Rin as soon as we got here that went on for a while, then she locked you out of your room you were supposed to be sharing. Laguna tried to calm you down, you grabbed a bottle of something, locked yourself in here, and that was that."

"You're lying."

"Honest, that's how it went. You're not a social drinker."

"I'm not any kind of drinker. And if you're telling me the truth, where's the bottle?"

Squall took a step forward, then heard a shatter as a pain rushed up his leg.

It was another one of those days. The kind where waking up was a really bad move, and everything you did afterwards just made things worse.

He spent the next hour or so on autopilot, getting ready for the flight back to Balamb Garden. People didn't speak to him unless they had to, which was a welcome change. Ellone had turned up with Marcus, explained that they had stayed at a safehouse, and that absolutely nothing had happened.

Squall easily believed that last part. While he didn't completely trust Marcus, he knew that if or when the Centran lost control, there'd be blood and bodies flying in all directions. Marcus might be many things, but he wasn't the secretive type.

He'd also heard from Rinoa how Marcus wanted his body to be incinerated after death. It sounded paranoid, but Squall had to admit the Centran had a point. Even if nobody alive today knew enough about genetic engineering to use the DNA, it could be preserved and discovered in the future. Better to destroy it now.

He'd taken his seat in the Ragnarok early, wanting some quiet to think things through. Quistis had given him a report, saying it would clear up his doubts. Given that he was doubting practically everything at the moment, Squall didn't believe her, but taking a look couldn't hurt.

It was a list of close combat instructors, and their skill levels and experience. Prospective close combat instructors were also included, which mostly meant people who could fight okay, and were out of work or desperate enough to think they could teach.

But what made the report really depressing was their estimated salaries. Competent instructors were in high demand, and they knew it. Even the half-competent ones could demand wages that could tear through what remained of Balamb Garden's budget, and that didn't even consider what would happen when the other instructors found out. And when he got near the end of the list...

Well, they were affordable, at least. But telling the students to just hit each other with practice weapons would be even cheaper, and would get far better results.

And at the end of the list, there was Marcus Kensai. His experience was listed first, and to say it was impressive was, well... like saying fish had a bit of a talent for breathing underwater. Even if you only believed half the stories about the Blades, they had been the elite of the rebel army, ruthless and unstoppable by anyone's standards. And Marcus had trained them all – helped a lot by General Nathan, of course, but he'd been taught by Marcus as well.

But Squall had never criticised the Centran's skills. It was the rest of him that was the problem. Such as whether Marcus was actually insane. But that wasn't the real issue.

The real issue was that Marcus should be insane, without a doubt. People could only go through so much before breaking. If they got away from it in time, sometimes they got better, and sometimes they didn't. But Marcus hadn't gotten away from anything, he'd thrown himself further in, every time. Deeper and deeper, until nothing else remained.

Of course, Quistis would argue that Marcus was holding it together, that he could recover in time, become a useful part of society – a bit twisted and abnormal, obviously, but still acceptable.

But every time he heard that, Squall remembered Marcus with his body broken and all but snapped in half, drugged up to the eyeballs and laughing his head off, yelling that he'd 'beaten' Centra.

And that wasn't something that could recover, or be redeemed. Too bad for him, but those were the breaks. And he wasn't putting everyone at Balamb Garden at risk just to be nice, and certainly not to some genocidal maniac who...

Quistis had heavily underlined the latter paragraph. About the salary. The very, very low salary.

Squall hadn't realised that basic instructor wages were that cheap. And Marcus had accepted it, and Garden finances were tight right now, and they really needed a good close combat instructor...

Damn. It was tempting, he had to admit. But could someone like that ever be trusted? How could they afford to take the risk?

There was a note from Quistis at the end. Yes, I know he's a risk, Squall. But there's always a risk. This isn't about teaching maths - If the combat instructor isn't good enough, then students are going to die. We need the best, and this is the only way we can get it. And you won't be the only one keeping an eye on Marcus, we all will. If something happens, we'll be ready. And if he won't listen, remember that Ellone is just a phone call away.

Quistis had a point. In fact, Quistis had a chain whip, with lots of barbed points. And as she'd made clear, he didn't really have a choice.

Fine. Marcus could stay at Balamb Garden as a cadet Seed, for now. He'd be useful, as long as he kept it together. And if he fell apart, then at least they'd have gotten some use out of him, and could dispose of him without too many questions being asked. It wouldn't be easy, but then, neither was everything else.

The puppet master stared at the box he held. It was battered, heavily lined with metal, and cool to the touch.

And within, it held the power to change the world forever. After all this time, it was finally his.

The mercenaries had believed that Marcus was the essential item he'd sent them to retrieve, and he'd allowed them to think so. Servants should only know as much as they needed to, and nothing more. If they lacked the intelligence to notice the obvious, it was their own fault. There was only one person that was essential, and that was himself. Marcus might have been useful, true, but he was wilful and independent, and could never be trusted. What was inside the box would become a far greater weapon, powerful enough to destroy any opponent with matchless speed and precision, fully obedient to his will.

But not yet. To develop this weapon would take considerable time, but he was patient, and had other weapons to deploy, other strategies and resources to develop. The world was already racing towards its own destruction, people from all countries and nations demanding war, begging to give up what little freedom they had, so hungry for domination they would eagerly chain themselves into slavery at his command, praising him as their saviour all the while.

But there were exceptions, and they would need to be dealt with. Seed had attacked his mercenaries ahead of schedule, but to destroy their opponents with hardly a scratch, Seed had performed a little better than expected. They would need to be monitored carefully.

The Galbadian government was barely rational, but aggressive and quick to react to pressure. They would need to be carefully nudged, convinced that his orders were their own ideas. And it would have to be done through an agent, someone clever, cunning... and expendable.

The Estharian government was dangerous. They already suspected, although they had no proof. They would prepare for the way they thought he would attack, guarding what they thought was important. Let them tire themselves chasing ghosts, flinching at shadows. Then when they finally relaxed their guard, they would realise they were already at his mercy.

As was everyone, and everything. They just didn't know it yet.

But for the moment, he would leave them in blissful ignorance, allow them to think that their petty and meaningless lives actually mattered. Let them dream of peace, and freedom, and all the other absurd delusions that they had. Reality would break them soon enough, taking away the burden of having to control their own lives, shaping them into what they had always wanted to be.

Slaves.

Marcus was aware of Squall watching him carefully, but made no response. The Commander had every reason not to trust him. Marcus didn't even trust himself, so why would he expect it from others?

But others didn't act the way they should. President Laguna was relaxed around him, which didn't make sense. As the leader of a world superpower, Marcus shouldn't even have been allowed anywhere near him without guns pressed against his head. But Laguna hadn't shown fear, or readiness to fight. Could he really be that stupid to trust a Centran?

Or was it all a lie? Those in power had to be good at deceit, even Marcus knew that. Laguna's performance had been flawless, but it had to be fake. Nothing else made sense.

Rinoa was also behaving strangely, but that could be normal for a Sorceress. He'd been trained to fight Sorceresses, taught their strengths and weaknesses, and how to recognise their behaviour. Although if Rinoa was in any way a normal Sorceress, then most of it had been wrong.

She seemed to feel sorry for him sometimes, though. That didn't make sense. They had both been forced to accept a power that made them inhuman, so there should be something alike in how they acted.

But there wasn't. She was more emotional, but her emotions were far less destructive, less focused. More human. His training had taught him to be wary of the minions of a Sorceress, but Rinoa was no master of those around her. There were times when she could barely control herself. Her knight was clearly Squall, but he was no extension of her will, despite what Marcus had been taught as a Centran. Their relationship was stranger than most, at times mutually destructive, at others supportive or dependant. Despite being inhuman, Rinoa appeared to have a mating partner who did not only think of his own benefit, and she had friends.

Even among other inhumans, Marcus was an outcast. Something he should be used to by now.

And most of all, there was Ellone Loire. She had Melissa's power and appearance, but had inherited nothing else from her, and nothing at all from Melissa's husband Gregor. Ellone was not a fighter, but she was strong in other ways. Such strength had to come from somewhere, but where? Psion had assured him Melissa's son was weak...

But her strength could be explained somehow. It was her character defied all explanation. She hadn't distanced herself from him, even when it was clearly in her best interests to do so. Their first meeting had been in battle, so clearly he was useful to her then, and her approach was understandable. After that, he was useful as a source of information, the only one left who knew about her powers, what they could do and why she had them.

But now? His use had ended. She had protectors, a few that even approached his own level of skill, and no powerful enemies to speak of. She didn't need him.

She didn't need him at all.

Yet she continued to stay around him, when she had no need to. No reason to. So why?

But did Ellone need a reason? She was not a soldier at war, she had no great need to be efficient in her actions. She could spend time how she wished. It could just be basic curiosity, nothing more.

If so, that would be acceptable. But if it wasn't... Marcus remembered the female soldiers in the rebel army who had approached him for sex. His inhumanity should have made him repulsive, but his fame as the so-called hero of the rebellion had made him the opposite. Could Ellone be...

No. That was impossible. Ellone was not facing imminent death, and unlike the rebel soldiers, has a future to think of. More importantly, he knew she was intelligent, and rational. She knew his true nature, what he had done and what he was capable of. She knew how inhuman he was, and now had a full understanding of what that meant. Which meant it was absolutely certain that she could never see him in such a way, or ever have a personal connection with him of any kind.

He felt relieved, knowing that.

But his existence was about to change. He would be teaching combat, but in peacetime, when survival was not the only concern. It would be different, and he was already aware of how little he understood of how things worked in this time. He could overcome such a severe disadvantage in battle, but this was not battle, and he was not prepared.

There was also Caryn, the girl he had almost abandoned to rapists and murderers, before they attacked him, so he killed them. Ellone had said he had to make up for what he did. He would do that, but he had no idea how, or what with.

Too many questions. Too many unknowns. And yet...

His future... intrigued him. He was curious. He wished to know what the future held. And for him, that was something he had never felt before.

In his mind, he recited the catechism. His catechism.

I am alone.

Alone, I endure.

In enduring, I grow strong.

With strength, I am defiant.

In defiance, I wage war.

In war, I will die.

In death, I will be free.

Yes. Death was freedom, he knew that. The only freedom he could ever have, no matter what they said, but... maybe death could wait a little while.

Maybe it could, but that doesn't mean it will... And death hasn't exactly been kind to Marcus so far, has it? Next chapter will be an in-depth discussion about the backstory, the Centrans, technology and everything else that the characters in the story already know (or suspect), but which haven't been discussed or thought about yet. Stay tuned!