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The Artifact	By : PandaBearzh Category: Final Fantasy Games > Final Fantasy XIII-2 Views: 2037 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the final fantasy fandom. I do not make $$ from this fiction.

Chapter List
- 14
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- 16
[NAN]

“Hope!” he urged, beckoning toward the other. The captain pressed past him immediately, immersing himself only somewhat prepared for the chaos that lay beyond his doorstop. He was still pulling his shirt over his shoulders when he sprinted into the street, and his fingers worked to hurriedly button it closed without checking for proper alignment. The flashing illusion was caused by various shadows that were drifting over the town, and his eyes immediately darted to the skies, where his mouth dropped instantly agape in horror. The true chaos wasn’t the villagers pressing through the streets; it was the dark imposing fractal of smoke that silently twisted malevolently above the town. From his position, he could see Cocoon at its center, but the space between the nest and the town was saturated with an incredible armada of airships, swarming and twisting against one another aggressively.
It appeared that there were two types of aircraft, and one did seem a great deal slicker than the others. Those zipped around the larger, thicker looking models, bragging their agility and ability to the onlookers as if to intimidate them to an early surrender. Their brothers were about twice the size, but were quite obviously strapped with a higher damage capability and stronger damage threshold than their counterparts. Together, they resembled atoms, with the smaller ships buzzing around the larger, fearlessly leapfrogging one another when they were at risk of perilously colliding.
Where had these vehicles come from?! Even while he was on Cocoon he had never seen such an incredible concentration of military force! These beastly machines must have come from somewhere—and if not from Cid’s own hand, from where?
His breath caught sharply in his throat as the fractal suddenly burst into movement, pulsing larger and shrinking as if it were a disturbed hornet’s nest. No—not now, he wasn’t ready for this! The armada wasn’t going to wait: they had received their orders. White sparks exploded into the sky from the smaller ships, and the townspeople flew into a full-fledged panic. Hope’s body swayed in a doll-like manner as the people pushed and slammed into him, but he could not remove his attentions from their impending doom.
The larger warships zoomed overhead, diving and twisting their way through the swarm while appearing to take a “they’ll get the fuck out of the way,” regard to the smaller ships. Oddly, amidst the chaos, very little of the gunfire actually hit to the ground. The smaller ships pattered their seemingly tiny albeit constant barrage of laser like shots, but it didn’t appear that the target was below them at all. Instead, it was almost as if the ships were firing at each other.
No way in Hell.
His eyes raked the scene for answers, skipping over the intermittent missiles littering the air. He quickly found affirmation of their intent with the first battle casualty. It was one of the smaller, more agile ships. Although Hope hadn’t been watching its actions, he realized very quickly that it must have been unable to thwart the automated systems zeroing in on its tail with all of the gunfire obstructing its path. Other ships paused in their advancement, retreating from the scene merely breaths away from the shockwave of resulting nearby explosions: apparently some part of these missiles was externally flammable and combustible.
Another small ship stole his view as it streaked only meters above his head, forcing him and the rest of the town to preemptively duck in order to avoid the subsequent shower of gunfire that rained deep pelts into the ground after it. It appeared that while these attacks looked like small flashes at a distance, up close their bite was strong enough to penetrate any surface, and each impact vibrated the ground and left a deep welt large enough to step into.
It took another agile fighter and two missiles to bring the invasive assailant down, and it did so with a demonstrative boom. The solo-manned aircraft dug a deep scar into the surface of the earth when it crashed against the terrain, coming finally to rest at the town’s southern border—in the woods. From a distance, Hope could see the smoke rising from the site, and became quickly alarmed to the potential forest fire that may result. These warriors—PSICOM and Guardians alike—they had no regard for their battlefield. Although they might not be directly targeting the townspeople, the pertinent danger was not only apparent, but escalating. Irate for the death of their comrades, the sky flashed with a thick discharge of even more volleys, smoke, and fire. It seemed like every few seconds more explosions occurred, but with the “freed” air space came easier maneuvering; the smaller crafts twisted and spun their way more viciously around their identical looking targets. While the missiles seemed to have independent targeting systems, the gunfire pelted the ground wildly and unpredictably, sending soft bursts of dirt into the descending aerial smoke screen veil.
He needed to get these people off of the street. Any second now one of these metal hellions could crash into one another, never mind the danger of being caught in enemy crosshairs. That was the thing that he couldn’t understand either: the ships were all marked the same, and from what he could tell of the ship that crashed into the woods, it was indeed PSICOM and the Guardian Corps. The confusing part was that PSICOM appeared to be attacking PSICOM and Guardian Corps alike. It just seemed like too much friendly fire to be accidental, but why would the military giants war amongst themselves? Why was the Guardian Corps getting involved on Pulse? Why wouldn’t they be attacking these people instead?
“Everyone! Please!” He tried, raising his voice to get his attention. It took no hold. He tried again, touching a few villagers on the shoulder, but to no avail. If Snow were here, getting their attention wouldn’t be a problem at all… But Hope knew better than to start looking for him. Although Alyssa had told him that he had recovered from his electrocution, he hadn’t believed it for a moment. The man wasn’t at the banquet the previous night, and nobody seemed to be commenting on it; silence was never a topic associated with a healthy Snow. In fact, it bothered him that he hadn’t heard any chatter on the situation since he had arrived. Noel had made some gesture that he was resting, but beyond that… Where was he resting? He hadn’t seen him anywhere! Well, now wasn’t the time to freak out about anything: he needed to focus.
For the first time the young captain’s eyes searched the street, zeroing in on the faces that bobbed against one another to attempt to locate either Fang or Vanille. It appeared as the militia he was charged with seemed to be trying to usher people into their homes and off the street. Thank heaven for drill training… He would have liked to give them at least a nod of approval, but for the moment, there simply wasn’t the time to do so.
Pressing through the sea of bodies was difficult, as the villagers didn’t seem very interested to learn who was trying to make their way in whichever direction. Still, he lay all of his effort into it, eventually discovering an efficient system that allowed him to worm his way northward to Fang’s quarters. If the ladies weren’t on the street, he knew where he could find them. They needed to organize. This situation had been unprecedented, and though they knew that they should have planned well for it, even the basic idea of such an event had been more of a motivation for them to accomplish their mission promptly than the topic of discussion for defensive measures.
Finally, he had arrived at the head of the avenue, and with one last jerk became free of the crowd. Before him, Noel stood waiting.
“How did you—?” Hope asked with amazement, stealing a quick glance over his shoulder to measure the distance between his own doorway and the small patch of earth that the two were standing on. Noel grinned and pointed at the roofs as if it had been the most obvious and simple path to traverse. Hope sighed with angry frustration, and reprimanded him with a quick but very clear chastise; “If you do any more flashy things, I’ll kill you myself.” At the time, he meant every word, and for that matter alone, he didn’t care about catching Noel’s response. He grabbed his shoulder roughly and turned him to face into the yurt-like structure, articulating with his actions the suggestion for him to join the meeting before entering without him.
With Fang, Vanille, and Traveler all readily gathered around Fang’s desk, Alyssa’s absence was instantly recognizable. The three looked up from the paper that they were leaning over, signaling a greeting for the two male’s appearances. Fang was in the middle of explaining the document, and didn’t look eager to catch the newcomers up on the discussion. Noel wondered if it was due to his own appearance, but Hope didn’t seem to notice, and immediately took strides to join the party at the desk.
“Alyssa—where is sh—” he began.
“We can’t stay here,” Fang interrupted quickly before tapping a finger on the wood. Hope’s brow furrowed with confusion while Vanille apprehensively bit her lip.
“What is that?” Noel asked, craning his neck over Vanille’s shoulder and finally getting a good glance at what lay on the desk. It appeared to be nothing more than a group of thumbnail photographs assembled next to one another. Each of the eighteen pictures was just as blotchy and distorted as the next, and featured monochromatic, shapeless smoke-like shapes that changed almost unnoticeably from picture to picture. The differences were so obscure that Noel found himself trying to compare each one to its neighbor.
“It’s radar….” Hope answered curiously.
“Fang, we can’t! We don’t even know how to get there! It’s impossible!”
“It’s not impossible, Vanille,” the commander reassured, “Traveler says he found an entrance in the woods.”
“An entrance to what?” Noel asked again, dragging his eyes from the paper to the mask that obscured his old friend. “A trap?” Many things had happened the night prior, but one of the events he still struggled to understand concluded when the man hit him with a Ruinga spell, and then proceeded to use more magic to heal him. “Fang, you didn’t trust me because I could use magic. Did you know that last night, this guy—”
“Those can’t be…” Hope realized, snatching the paper from the table and examining it closer to his face.
“A subterranean tunnel,” Fang answered with a broad smile, her eyes twinkling from the light of candles. She didn’t appear to notice the brunette’s efforts, and continued speaking to Hope as if nothing else in the world existed. “God only knows where it goes.” Hope let himself fall against the wall, his eyes darting from one thumbnail to the next rapidly.
“That makes so much sense now,” the captain added, tracing the designs with his index finger. “This must have been what he was referring to.”
“Who?” Fang demanded, rising from her leaning position and rocking her knuckles flat against the table. “You think you might know something about this?” Hope’s attention quickly broke from the paper and met Fang’s stern expression. “Spit it out!” she encouraged impatiently. “Is there something we should know?”
“PSICOM might have built it, and if they didn’t build it they at least use it I believe.” Hope answered, offering the sheet to whomever might be interested to review it.
“But I don’t get it. It doesn’t look like anything to me…” Vanille tried, “And how do we know which way it goes? How do we know this isn’t just a giant hole in the ground?”
“Because Traveler has been there, sweetheart,” Fang reminded her softly.
“So where does it go, then?” Noel asked, crossing his arms and continuing to try to stare down the unchanging mask. “I mean, I’m assuming that’s where you went last night. You attacked me and then ran away? To where? Cocoon? Does this lead to Cocoon? Is that where you got this paper from? Is that where you got your mana from?”
“Alyssa gave us this,” Vanille commented, shifting uncomfortably in the presence of the argument. “We just didn’t know what it was until now.” Traveler finally levied his attention on Noel, but said nothing in his defense. If it hadn’t been for the incredible uncomfortable feeling saturating his body, the young male might have not even believed he was looking at him. But, he had experienced this sensation before: the portal he had arrived through had felt the same way.
“Well, isn’t that convenient,” his lips drawled, gesturing to the coincidence of the situation with a quick horizontal sleight of hand. “That he just happened to find the entrance to the tunnel on the same night that—“
“Actually, what would be convenient is if we didn’t have to evacuate—but you don’t see me bitching about that do you?” Fang scorned, “Settle your petty grudges later.”
“But it could be a trap!” Noel exclaimed, tossing both of his hands open into the air. “You can’t trust him! I know you trust him but you can’t! He’s the one who has been passing secrets to—to—what’s his name? Hope, what’s his name? That guy you’re after.” Hope wasn’t listening, but Fang laughed lightly and pointed to her confidant.
“Rosch? You think Traveler is passing secrets to Rosch? Is that why you don’t like him all of a sudden?”
“His name is Caius, and this isn’t sudden! You don’t know anything about him!” Noel retorted, leaning on the edge of the table angrily.
“It might be difficult to pass everyone through the forest,” Hope offered suddenly, jostling a scroll onto the desk surface on top of the radar images. Noel jumped back when the parchment rolled over his knuckles, but caught it before it hit the floor. It looked like a map of the area. “Especially with what’s going on—I’m afraid of a wildfire. It’s far. It’s around here, right? The entrance?” he asked, grabbing a bottle of ink and setting it down onto the map like a marker. Traveler reached forward and adjusted its position before leaning back silently. Fang exhaled a long impressed whistle.
“That is quite a ways,” she agreed, replacing her hands on her hips.
“But look—on the radar—do we know where this is?” Hope asked, reaching beneath the map and retrieving the photographs. Traveler shook his head slowly. “Well—look at this. See these white spots? They look like crystals, don’t they? And—if this represents depth,” he continued, sliding his finger along the numbers that ran vertically along each of the thumbnails, “then this is a very strange vein of rock. They look almost like an Amristar variety don’t you think? Because they’re denser than these ones, and that’s why they’re so bright in the graph.” No one was looking at the document any longer; Hope had successfully lost them in his description of Pulsen geology. He continued without noticing, constantly drawing his index finger to reinforce the point that he was making. “And if this is actually Amristar, which is should be—well, the thing is—in order for Amristar to naturally cluster at this height, it needs to be a certain temperature! It would need to be around 10 degrees!”
“So this is a tunnel where it’s cold?” Vanille asked. “It can get cold in the forest at night.”
“Not this cold!” Hope said triumphantly. “I bet this is near the northern mountains!”
“There’s more than one tunnel,” Fang realized.
“I think so—and going off of what I think I heard Rosch saying, I think they might be connected!”
“There might be another tunnel with a closer entrance!” Vanille added excitedly with a soft jump. “But how do we find it?”
“So let’s say there’s an entrance right in the middle of the street,” Noel interjected, “What if it collapses? Those fighters aren’t letting up, and they crash hard.”
“That’s true, there’s no saying how sturdy these might be, or even where they are exactly without more information. We just don’t have the time to go searching for them blindly,” the captain answered, cupping his forehead into the web of his thumb in thought. The five grew silent for a moment, each internally wrestling with independent aspects of the idea until a shockingly close boom violently shook the structure.
“Where the hell is Alyssa?!” Fang exclaimed. Her eyes descended quickly on Noel. “You. Fetch.”
“I beg your pardon?” he retorted indignantly.
“I’ll find her,” Hope offered quickly, turning away from the group so abruptly that none had a chance to protest.
The militia had done a stupendous job in the short time that the meeting had taken place, and Hope was relieved to see that at least half of the people who had been struggling on the street beforehand had disappeared into their homes with their families. Those who were left on the street were still running in chaos, but appeared to be quickly locating their lost family members so that they could also seek cover. Standing there, right in the middle of all of the action, was the very blonde that he was looking for. Her chin was tipped into the air, and seemed to be lost in the battle above her. Whether she was trapped in an illusion or simply plainly unafraid of injury remained to be seen by him. Still, when he got close enough, she immediately took notice of his presence—much unlike her disposition toward the other citizens on the street.
“Captain,” she acknowledged, directing her attention to him with a forced smile, “You look rested. Just roll out of bed, huh?” He frowned at her, and a cold, prickly sensation filled her bosom. She couldn’t help it: as much as she tried to hide her disdain for the evasive brunette that Hope had been screwing lately, her emotions had a tendency to ring true through passive aggressive commentary. If only the man would take more care to hide it, she wouldn’t have to face the issue like this. But then again, Hope never seemed to catch on to any of her reasons for anything, so perhaps it was best if this was the way that she relieved that stress after all…
“Have you been standing here this whole time? We need you!” her captain asked urgently and obliviously, gesturing to Fang’s quarters when he realized Alyssa’s gaze was setting on the exposed skin about his neck and chest.
“Someone had to watch,” Alyssa answered, reluctantly dragging her gaze away from the area. “I know you were all there, and no one was out here. Isn’t it my job to provide information?” Hope shook his head and reached for her in attempts to refocus her attention on the situation.
“Fang wants to evacuate the town into nearby underground tunnels,” Hope responded quickly, “Think hard—do you know anything about—”
“Of course I know about the tunnels! It’s a horrible idea!” the blonde rejected, raising her arm and smacking Hope’s touch away from her, “PSICOM knows about them too, and even if they have their own problems that doesn’t mean we should go running off into them without any regard to the fact that they are still our enemies.” She paused for a moment, studying her superior’s confused expression. His hands were in front of him now in a defensive position, but his gaze was levying on her, and it was levying hard. She knew what he was thinking. He wanted to know how she knew that there was more than one tunnel, and why she hadn’t told Fang. He wanted to know what other information she hadn’t shared, and most specifically, she could tell that he was aching to ask her about PSICOM again. It would have to wait until after she had a chance to ask him about the Guardian Corps. The night prior, she knew that she was unable to talk about the subjects that she had really wanted to; that damn brunette just never seemed to leave Hope alone! It wasn’t a topic that she could talk to him about with anyone else present, and no matter how much she tried to relay her need for him, the male just didn’t seem to speak her language.
The situation infuriated her to no end. Why was it that nothing seemed to be going as planned? Unlike every other soul on Pulse that had awakened to the fearsome clashing of political giants, Lieutenant Alyssa Zaidelle had never been afraid. In contrast, the only sentiment she felt was the lifting of the heavy burden that had managed to isolate her in this hellish landscape. Finally, her day of reckoning was here, and just maybe, if she strained hard enough, she could assemble the pieces of a raptured dream that she had almost forsaken.
Every action she had committed to this point she had done in hopes of achieving this dream. But as the war dragged on, the longer she had been alienated here. She hadn’t made preparations for this life, and the small white lies that she had whispered upon her first arrival had snowballed into the greatest shitstorm that she ever had the displeasure to experience. One after another, she needed to invent more stories to protect someone, to avenge another. Where was she now? What was the last thing that she had said? It was starting to become a bad habit, and it was impossibly difficult to keep track of. That small dream of hers flickered dangerously, and she knew that she could be only one lie away from it going out completely. If she wasn’t careful, her world would implode just as New Arcadia had combusted not forty minutes prior.
She hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, but she had definitely felt it. Whatever had started the reaction had done a spectacular job at combusting the metal beast, as the explosions roared so loudly that it had made the earth quake with a minor tremble. It had been a long time since the ark had been on Pulse, and the Guardian Corps didn’t appear too eager to reunite them too quickly. The skies were still in utter chaos.
“Try to understand, retreating will only kill these people. The only reason that we’ve survived so far is because they,” Alyssa continued, jabbing an accusing finger at the sky, “think they’ve got us backed into a corner. The minute we run, the minute we hide, the second the gavel will fall. She thinks she can hide six hundred people underground without being caught? You know Cocoon will think? They’ll think we’re hiding him with them! And—we’re not hiding him, are we?”
“I don’t know, Alyssa,” Hope challenged, “who is this person that you’re talking about?” Alyssa’s lips pressed thin but eventually curved into a bemused smile.
“The man who destroyed New Arcadia, of course.” Hope ran his tongue over his teeth and swallowed. He couldn’t help but feel as if he were on the brink of some important moment, but he couldn’t reach it. It was almost as if the answer was standing in front of him, but invisibly so. He hadn’t realized that New Arcadia was missing, but now that so many of the fighters had fallen, its absence in the sky was glaring.
The prickly sensation on his neck was soon replaced by a hollow and endless feeling in his chest. New Arcadia had been the epicenter of so many of the trials he had suffered, and for it to have been gone it seemed almost as if it had all been for nothing. Raines hadn’t been pleased to see the wound on his shoulder as it scarred, but Hope had convinced him to let it heal at the time. None of the other harms that his body had suffered displayed on his skin, and it was too strange for him to look at his own reflection to see such utter perfection. It was almost as if it had never happened now. Rosch’s abuse had damn near killed him so many times, and the only evidence was that single scar on his shoulder. Raines had managed to save him from that situation, but the way he had just discarded him gave Hope perspective to his true feelings about him. In the end, his only award for his multifaceted torment was a clean, black, Guardian Corps uniform. That entire season seemed like nothing more than fiction to him now, much like the life that he had enjoyed before Lightning’s death.
“Captain? Captain!” Alyssa’s far away voice stung through his ears, but he continued to fall into himself, and didn’t respond to the real world’s demands.
He was cold, and the world had suddenly dimmed to silence. The colors around him blurred and reshaped themselves into light: he wasn’t on Gran Pulse any longer. He was in a white room, and he was waiting for something to happen.

[NAN]
- 14
- 15
- 16
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The Artifact