The Odds Are In [6] (FFVIII)

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The Odds Are In, Chapter 6

Fandom: FFVIII
Characters: Quistis, Irvine, Laguna, Ellone, Ward
Rating: PG-13

Summary: Squall sends Quistis and Irvine on a mission to Esthar, in the midst of political (and familial) unrest. Will they end up facing down the terrorists they suspect are behind Esthar's current political uprisings? Or is Laguna paying millions of gil for two very skilled Triple Triad partners?

The Odds Are In will be a series of connected ficlets / scenes / vignettes / pieces. Some will have plot, some will just be scenes. This month's goal: WORDS. The tag for this series is here.

Notes: TOAI is a total piece of comfort-fic, an excuse to write fun characters that come easily and catch up on some words.

The good news: I'm catching up on getyourwordsout. The bad news: I reset my spreadsheet to the non-NaNoWriMo numbers and now I'm over 15,000 words behind where I should be. Clearly I am good at this.

Further Notes: This chapter is really fricking long.

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i went to the store to get more / fire to start the war

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Quistis stretched, and put her feet up on the coffee table, even though she'd just yelled at Irvine for doing the very same thing -- but he'd gone to grab them some sodas, and it really was more comfortable to sit this way. Plus, she was only wearing socks; Irvine's boots could have ruined the table, which would have ruined the 'Dolletian Empire' theme in this particular bedroom.

She heard the click of the keycard, and hastily dropped her feet as Irvine came around the corner. He handed her a can of soda and plunked himself back down on the couch next to her; her stack of notes fluttered before settling in a slightly misshapen pile.

"So," Irvine said, slurping his soda noisily. "What else do we do tonight?"

Quistis sipped her own and shrugged. "Nothing, really. We've done our patrols, and the guard's in place. Probably just go to bed and get ready for another day."

Irvine blew a long sigh from his lips and whirled a finger in the air. "Another day." It hadn't been the most exciting week for them, Quistis admitted, but there was no point in complaining about a relaxing mission. She opened her mouth to retort, but a high-pitched chirp distracted her. She stood, stretched again, and padded (barefoot) over to the table in the corner, upon which she'd left her handheld.

"It's Ward," she said, recognizing the tone she'd chosen for Laguna's Head of Security. "I wonder if he found that--"

Get to Laguna, NOW

For a few seconds Quistis stared at the screen, frozen. Then she snapped her gaze up to Irvine, who was looking at her quizzically (and somewhat upside-down) from the couch.

"We have to go," she snapped, clipping the device to her waistband; "come on. Get Laguna."

It only took Irvine a split second to realize she was deadly serious, and Quistis found herself extremely thankful when he calmly got up off the couch and followed her to the door, grabbing his rifle from the table beside the door. She paused, listening, but it didn't sound like there was anything in the hallway.

As they opened their door slowly, they heard the first explosion.

It was far off enough to be simply a dim roar, but close enough that the building shook, slightly, under their feet. Quistis met Irvine's worried gaze for a brief moment, and then they both were across the hall; Irvine had his rifle out and cocked, looking deadly serious for a man in pajamas, while Quistis swiped her card through the slot of Laguna's door (after a hasty knock, of course) and keyed in the code that would allow them to access the Presidential Suite.

The door opened. "Hello?" she whispered, but there was no answer.

Quistis slipped in, waved Irvine through the door, then closed it behind them, hearing the reassuring sound of the lock slipping into place. "Laguna!" She raised her voice. "Laguna, get out here, we need to go."

The lights switched on as they moved further into the room; Quistis blinked, her eyes adjusting, but it was just a motion sensor. "Laguna, come on, we have to--"

The second explosion was even closer; the building quivered under their feet, and they could see the red glow of fire ignite suddenly outside Laguna's windows.

"Irvine," Quistis hissed. "Go." She pointed, a quick gesture, and Irvine headed into the bedroom. Quistis snapped the handheld up and scribbled a quick note with her finger, not even taking the time to pull out the stylus. Where is he?

The response was almost immediate. Room?

Not here

Irvine came out of the bedroom shaking his head, his palms extended -- and the windows shattered.

"Shit!" Quistis yelled, hitting the floor in a move that was half instinctual crouch and half unintended fall. She curled up, tucking her arms over her vulnerable face, feeling bits of glass and metal pepper her bare skin. "Irvine!" she called. "You alright?"

"Behind the couch." His voice sounded as calm and reassuring as ever, and Quistis gave a wry smile behind her forearms. The rain of debris had stopped, and she moved quickly, ignoring the tiny pinpricks of glass through her t-shirt; it fell off of her like a shower of crystal, the tiny bits sparkling in the glowing red light of the fires outside. Irvine was crouched behind the couch, with his gun at the ready, trained on the windows. His gaze, steadily watching for any movement, didn't even flicker as she stood and tried to shake the glass off.

"What was it?" She fisted the edge of her t-shirt in her hand and used it to brush the remaining shards of glass from her pants.

"Nothing," Irvine said grimly. "I watched the floor. No grenades, no bombs -- nothing big enough to notice, anyway." Instinctively, Quistis did a quick scan of the floor; there was nothing except glass and the metal frame of the window. She stepped up to the gaping opening carefully, minding her lack of shoes. She didn't quite peer through it, wary of what could be outside.

"Must have been an explosion outside," Irvine said. His eyes were still fixed on the window. "Where's Laguna?"

She glanced down at the handheld, still gripped tightly in her hand.

Check the Kitchens

"Ward says maybe the kitchens. Let's go." She nodded quick to Irvine and then opened the door carefully, scanning the clear hallway before stepping outside.

"Quistis," Irvine whispered from inside the room. "Go get your shoes."

"We don't have time," she hissed back, "now come on." She edged her way down the hallway, keeping her back to the wall and her arms out wide, ready to fight or cast. The back stairway led to a hallway with another lesser-known stairway, which would lead to the kitchen; Quistis knew Laguna liked to use this route, since he'd proudly showed it to both her and Irvine their first day here. Hopefully, that was where he was. Otherwise, they'd have to split up and search for him -- at which point, she'd need her shoes.

But the hallway was empty. Even worse, the stairway was empty: there should have been a House Guard, standing on watch. Quistis glanced at Irvine; his eyes were wide, meaning he'd noted the same absence. She nodded, once, and jerked her head towards the downward stairwell. Irvine reached out and grabbed her arm sharply, then headed for the stairwell himself, with a moment's pause and a pointed look at his gun.

Quistis followed. At least her bare feet made almost no noise on the stairs.

At the bottom of the staircase, the door was closed. Irvine silently stepped back from it, avoiding the small window at the top, and then raised his rifle, pointing it square at the closed door, right at chest level. He made a hand gesture to Quistis, towards the door: two fingers. Stay low.

Quistis braced herself on the bottom stair, took a deep breath, and then moved all at once: in a crouch, she grabbed the handle and twisted it, slowly, then shoved the door open, throwing herself to the side--

Bang. A bullet flew over her head, and Quistis heard the muffled sound of a body hitting the floor as she glanced upwards, confirming that she was out of Irvine's line of sight; she leapt to her feet as Irvine fired again -- bang -- and someone outside yelled a muffled curse word. She threw a hand up, calling forth the vigil as fast as she could -- Protect -- and the telltale glow surrounded Irvine just as a rush of fire came in from the door. Quistis glanced around the door once it faded, spotting a man in black with a long strange-looking gun, which swiftly flew to point its tip at her, and --

Bang. The man leapt back -- although not dead -- Irvine's hand came down on her shoulder, pulling her back behind the door as he cast Protect back on her; "Quistis, that's not magic, they've got a flamethrower," his voice a rough snap -- fire roared through the door again, scorching the edges of their Protect shells and warming her face --

-- as the fire died, Quistis spun herself out from behind the door, Blizzaga on the tips of her fingers; the man tried to duck, but the spell caught him full-force, and he -- he screamed -- and then there was nothing but a pile of black cloth and a few puddles.

"Go," Quistis breathed, jerking her head to the door; Irvine was already through, rifle at the ready as he cleared the rest of the hallway.

"Clear!" His voice was a gunshot in the silence. Quistis scrambled to her feet, following through the door. She stopped just long enough to pick up the flamethrower. It was heavy and bulky, a weapon she wasn't used to, but SeeD didn't let advantages lie on the floor as they walked past.

"Hurry," she said.

Irvine opened the door to Laguna's 'hidden' staircase, carefully clearing it; they both hurried down, the need for stealth warring with the need for haste. The door at the end was slightly ajar; Irvine tried to look through, craning his neck, but then he shook his head,the expression on his face easily telling Quistis he couldn't see anything. She gestured at the door, and he raised his gun; she crouched, and kicked the door open the full way--

Something clattered down -- a pot, which had been resting on top of the slightly-ajar door, her senses registered -- but then she saw a flurry of movement in the kitchen, and a familiar head appeared over the counter to the left, a familiar arm hurling something in their direction --

Quistis pulled Irvine down, jerking hard on his shirt, and he ducked just in time for the tarnished pan to fly over his head and hit the wall behind him.

Irvine whistled. "Nice throw, Elle."

Ellone's head popped back up over the counter. Her face was pale white, but she sighed in relief as she recognized them. "I'm sorry." She cringed, and stood up fully; her hands were shaking. "I didn't know it was you."

"It's alright." Quistis glanced around, tensely, her mind whirling as she took inventory of the situation. Laguna appeared suddenly from behind the refrigerator, a frying pan in hand.

"It's all we had," he said with a light-hearted shrug Quistis could tell he didn't feel. "We were just getting a midnight snack when my wrist alarm went off. We were lucky -- we had enough time to rig the doors so we'd know if anyone was coming in, but." He shrugged again. "There's no real sneaky way out of here."

Ward. Quistis grabbed her handheld and scribbled hastily with her finger: Got them. She sent it, and then added Kitchens. All OK. What now?

Behind her, Irvine bent and picked up the stockpot; he seemed amused. "Good idea," he said, closing the door almost the entire way and then replacing the pot on top of the door. "We used to do this as a prank in Galbadia, but it was usually a pot full of water back then." He sounded so calm, and Quistis was struck with a sudden pang of jealousy, because her heart was still pounding and all her nerves were taut.

Laguna laughed, however, as if all the tension had left the room. "Where do you think I learned it?" He came over to stand by them, squinting as he admired Irvine's handiwork. "Elle and I couldn't watch all the doors at the same time, but then I remembered how we used to rig this up when we were playing Capture the Flag at the barracks."

Quistis' hand buzzed. She glanced down at it. Stay there, we're coming to you. Before she could say anything aloud, another message popped up, this one so hastily written it took her eyes a few moments to piece together the words: Enemies everywhere - KEEP HIM SAFE.

"Alright," she said, aloud, and Irvine and Laguna both turned to look at her almost immediately; Ellone's worried eyes had been on her the entire time. "Ward says to stay here; he's coming. But we need to be able to hold here until they show up." Her eyes flicked through the kitchen, thinking. "You two get behind that counter - it's the farthest away from the doors. If I stand in the middle here, I can hit both doors with magic is needs be. Irvine..." She glanced over at him.

To her surprise, Irvine easily swung himself up onto the counter in the very back, with a cheeky grin. "I'm the sniper," he said. "There's a pretty good line of sight from back here, to be honest. Especially since I'll have a split second warning with all the pots and pans."

Quistis nodded in relief, glad he'd already thought this through. "Alright. Hopefully nobody will find us at all, but be ready." A thought occured to her, and she pulled out the stylus and wrote on the screen: Doors are rigged. Stomp three times before you come in, or we might shoot you. After a few seconds, the screen blinked with just a smudged fingerprint, Ward's quick way of saying okay.

"I've warned Ward," she said aloud, glancing up at Irvine grimly. "If something comes and you don't hear three stomps, shoot to kill."

Irvine answered with an equally grim nod and pulled out the extension on his rifle.

Laguna had ushered Ellone over to duck down behind the structure, but he still stood, glancing at Quistis with an almost unreadable look on his face. "It isn't -- I'm not helpless," he said, finally, opening his hands towards her, palm-out.

"Laguna," Quistis said, in a tone that left no room for argument. "We can talk about it later, but right now, this is what you hired us for." She bit her lip. "Hide. If they see you - if they know you're in here - this is going to get a lot worse."

Laguna's face fell, and Quistis went to gesture towards the door -- with the half-forgotten flamethrower in her hand. It gave her an idea; it wasn't like she was skilled with the thing, and Laguna knew guns. "Here," she said, stalking across the room to hand it to him. "But don't use it unless we both go down."

The wait wasn't long. Irvine heard them first, and shushed the room so they all could hear: footsteps, too hasty to be quiet, and too cautious to be friendly. Quistis turned towards the door and braced herself, her fingers quivering, ready to cast. There was a soft scuffle, and then the door creaked slowly open. The stockpot fell, hitting the floor with a resoundingly loud clang that made her ears ring so hard she almost missed Irvine's two opening shots. A body fell.

Someone else punched the door open the rest of the way, but Quistis was ready, and Blizzaga sent him to his knees; another quick shot from Irvine took care of that problem. Both SeeDs froze, trained ears straining to pick up any additional sounds. Finally, Irvine whispered, "I think that's it."

Quistis glanced up at him, perched on a kitchen counter next to a picture of dancing mushrooms with his gun at the ready and his face deadly serious: and she was suddenly, inexplicably, surprisingly relieved that it was Irvine Kinneas at her back and nobody else. "You stay there," she hissed, "and cover me. I'm going to hide the bodies." Two fallen comrades in a doorway would be a dead giveaway; they'd lose the element of surprise if they left the evidence there.

She padded across the kitchen warily, aware of the soft sound her bare feet made on the cold floor and the three sets of eyes at her back. The first man had fallen into the kitchen, and he wasn't hard to move; she dragged him by the arms through the door and into the corner, next to an industrial-size refrigerator. The second body was smaller, and as Quistis peered out the door, she realized it was a woman, which would be easier for her to pick up and--

Something smacked her in the back of the head, and sparks exploded across her vision as pain swelled up across her brain and brought tears to her eyes. Quistis fell to the ground, gritting her teeth against the red haze of the pain, her hands clenching in the carpet as an involuntary whimper-howl escaped her lips; she had to focus, there was still someone out here, and she had no weapon. She rolled to the side, and another surprisingly hard blow struck her in the forearm, knocking her to the side again. Quistis gripped her forearm in pain, focused all of her angry energy, and cast, trusting her instincts and training to focus the spell on an enemy she hadn't yet seen--

She heard a howl and a curse behind her as Blizzaga hit - no time for pain, Quistis - and she rolled away from it, coming up into a slow crouch, her head pounding at the movement. Black and white spots blinked lazily in front of her eyes, which was a very bad sign, and shadows were moving in her peripheral vision; she glanced over right as one large shadow raised something to eye level and fired, three sharp curt blasts.

Irvine's Curaga hit her then, calming the blazing ache in the back of her head to a dull throbbing pain. Quistis counted to ten and then stood up, slowly. Irvine was in the doorway, concern and worry on his face behind the steady, reassuring presence of his gun. "You okay?" His voice was even.

Quistis nodded, the motion sending hot sparks of pain through her skull. "Help me get these two in with the other one," she said, simply -- and rather than arguing, Irvine bent to pick up the closest body and drag it into the kitchen. She knelt beside the third, the stocky man who had struck her, taking a moment to regain her balance and composure. Her arm throbbed, and she pressed her palm against the spot and cast Curaga. By the time the spell had settled, Irvine was back, and the two of them moved the third body into the kitchen. Irvine set the pot back on top of the door while Quistis took a moment in the center of the room to cast Curaga, fingertips pressed to her forehead.

Laguna stood up. "Is everything alright?"

Quistis looked over, and lazy grey spots floated in her vision for a second until she blinked. "We're fine," she said shortly.

There was a sound outside the other door, and she spun again, the entire kitchen blurring. Someone stomped, three times, and her shoulders relaxed; she could hear Irvine's sigh of relief as he lowered his gun.

"Ward!" Laguna came out from behind the counter, grinning, as the Head of Security himself entered the room, his massive spear in one hand and an angry look on his face. As he entered the room, four soldiers in unfamiliar grey uniforms followed, and lost no time in doing a sweep of the room. Ward glanced around the kitchen, nodding once as Ellone slowly came out from behind the counter; his gaze landed on Quistis, and his eyes widened slightly in question.

Quistis glanced down at herself. "We were ready for bed," she said, stupidly, because she was covered in dirt and blood and gunpowder and a few sparkling bits of glass still stuck to her t-shirt, and there was still a trace of blood trickling down her neck, and apparently she'd been leaving bloody footprints since Laguna's bedroom -- but the only thing she could think was: I'm still in my pajamas.

Irvine reached out and gave her shoulder a squeeze; his grip was calm and confident, and his voice was almost amused as he said, "You are bleeding all over the place, Quisty."

Ward's sharp gaze turned to Irvine, and he jerked his head at the staircase behind him once, with an obvious look at Quistis.

"Right-o." Irvine tucked his rifle into its holster and put his other hand on Quistis' other shoulder, pushing her towards the stairs. "We have supplies in our room for her. Call when you need us, or just come up."

"But--" Quistis turned in his grasp to look towards Laguna, who was suffering through a thorough check-up by one of Ward's men; he gave her a plaintive look. She turned back to Ward, protesting, "what are you going to do about--?"

Ward leveled a very even look on her and slowly raised an eyebrow in a very obvious question.

Irvine squeezed her shoulders. "They can handle this, Quisty," he said, his voice low. "We did our job, and now they do theirs. C'mon, let's go patch up your feet."

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