MC Lullaby Girls 01

The place was packed full to its capacity with tons of people letting loose- girls who wanna have fun, office people worn-out from getting kicked around by their superiors and lumberjacks exhausted from their monotonous lives. They had filled the entire space of the disco-bar. The music blared on as the sea of bodies gyrated quickly to the strong infectious beat of some new age disco song, lapping against the edges of their limited dancing space.

And this was just seeing it from the outside entrance of the club. Getting in was probably easy but getting out would be the difficult part, like a salmon swimming against the current. As it was people were crammed together with their leather-clad get-up and shimmering sequined boob tubes practically pressing onto some other person. And if that was not enough, the place had started overflowing with people at the bars who thought it amusing to spray beer at the dancers. No one even responded, everyone was too occupied in doing their own thing and some went as far as to gulp down the beer being aimed at them. The place was wild and it had a sort of feral tinge to it.

“Holy damn almighty.” Selphie Tilmitt said, which was probably the closest proximity to her using any sort of profanities. Suddenly, taking up the mission Drake had given her seemed like a very bad move. I am so going to regret this.

Irvine Kinneas who was standing beside her was busy ogling in awe at a group of girls near the line. Well, it was much better than having him gape at her and her `mission attire'. Which was more cleavage than cloth, to her that was. But looking at the clubbers at Glitter Tech, it certainly made her feel as if she were dressed up like a nun.

“Well, You ready to boogie?” Irvine smirked at her. He had tried to warn her about the mission requirements but she had been too busy being angry with him to actually pick up on that. At least he looks like he's having fun. Selphie sulked, but managed to answer with an innocent smile and a `nice' nudge to Irvine's ribs, leaving him to fall back a few people behind her. The line at the entrance was starting to move and much to her chagrin her turn was coming up. Irvine was a distance behind her, trying to act inconspicuous as he tried to pick up chicks. Why did Drake pick Irvine to be back up? Rolling her eyes, Selphie miserably followed the line closer and closer to the front. We are on a mission not attending some pseudo orgy… She silently thought.

The bulky man at the front, the bouncer, was selecting people `cool' enough to enter. Smoothing her sleek, straight highlighted tan-brown hair she waited for him to see her. Oh god, I haven't been this anxious since the final fight with Ultimecia. Checking her black leather boots for potential dirt- it was a nervous habit she picked up earlier on, she casually eyed Irvine. He was talking to a blond. Flirting as usual.

“Hey Miss.” The bouncer hollered over the ever-rising din. Looking back at the man she realized he had given her the A-ok to go in. Smiling her thanks she entered the packed club and was immediately surrounded by moving bodies plastered with the smell of sweat and beer. Wow, that sure was easy. Looking back she found Irvine and the blond walking in. The girl was laughing at something he said. He was looking around the club and suddenly she found herself staring into his misty blue eyes. Quickly she turned back and began to scan the crowded dome-like room. Don't want to cramp his style. She thought sarcastically. Ok…focus on the mission. Selphie warned herself and began registering what she was supposed to do.

Yep, easy, no one in this club seems to be suspicious. They are all perfectly normal people dressed for a day at church. Someone has to do something about that darned mission report. Selphie found herself lost in the coiling mass of never-ending dancers. The only suspicious one here seems to be me. She was standing stiffly at the middle of the dance floor, looking at all the dancers strutting their stuff and doing all those NC-17 dance moves. How am I supposed to do my job in a sty like this??? The only way I could see anything is if I were on the platform. That would mean I'd have to be working as a Dancer here. Out of the question.

“So like I was saying, how can I possibly know that his name was Jared? I mean not everyone looks at people's name tags right?” Chrissie said in her very lame attempt at getting Irvine to listen to her. God, can't she just shut up? Irvine thought exasperatedly as the blond jabbered on in that gratingly high-pitched tone. She had taken to touching his arm in a not so subtle way in the name of flirting.

He was scanning the room searching for something when he stopped. Staring at the girl a few heads in front of him, the girl with her flowing hair of brown highlights. Her face betrayed the clubber image she seemed to want to portray and yet nothing stopped her from looking enticingly stunning… Selphie could have been an angel if she had not also looked like such a foxy devil. Her eyes were cat-like green, striking and yet innocent. The neon blue strobe lights accentuated her glimmering eye shadow and made her straight hair glimmer. His fascination lingered on her high cheekbones and aristocratic nose before resting on her sultry lips with their lightly tinged silver lip-gloss. Selphie sure grew up to be a siren. The techno music and gyrating dancers ceased to exist as he stared at her. Everything seemed to disappear.

The first time he saw her in that outfit, he nearly had a cardiac arrest. Irvine knew Selphie was beautiful, but seeing her with her metallic blue handkerchief top and sleek black leather pants, it blew him away, he couldn't stop staring at her the whole night. He tried staring at the other girls, but no one could compare. It was ironic how she was dressed like the devil herself and yet managed to maintain her angelic innocence.

He was still staring at her when his conscience began ringing in his head. He pictured the danger alarms buzzing around. Irvine, knock it out. She said she wanted to be friends nothing more. Regaining his composure, he tuned back to Chrissie, occasionally staring at the girl with the angelic face… “And I was like so confused, he said his name was Jared….”

The streetlamps were dimly lit as the girl walked down the secluded path, the loud music fading as she went further away from the club. The faint rustle of the trees caused her to pause. She heard a sound. Just the wind… She reasoned turning around to scan the area before walking again. In between dancing and humming a tune from Aretha Franklins, she did not notice the shadow sweep behind her before blending in with the darkness again.

“I will survive…” This time, she heard that clicking sound again. She stopped her public parading, and began to take out the pepper spray from her glitter bag. Swiftly she turned around to face… whatever it was.

The cleaver was brought down onto her chest the minute she turned. Red exploded in front of her eyes as she felt her lungs burn causing her breath to bubble in her throat. The excruciating pain was too much to bear. The cleaver was brought up then down again as it re-entered her body, hacking her flesh, mutating it into a deformed pile of lump where it was once beautiful white porcelain skin. Her chest felt like hot black coal had been ignited in her collapsed lungs, using it as a cauldron for its fiery hell. Instantaneously, her vision began to get blurred. The only thing she saw was the glimmer from the fatal weapon… and the black trench coat sweeping over her.

“Ooops, sorry.” Selphie mumbled agitatedly as she bumped into her five hundred and fortieth person. All the while desperately trying to search for unusual characters.

“No biggie.” The man she bumped into said, flashing her a grin, a very nice fine grin. “Wanna get a beer?” The man asked her. Nodding her head, they began to move towards the bar.

Selphie, where are you. Irvine Kinneas thought, drowning out “Chrissie” as she went on talking about how tired she was and how she very much wanted to go back to her room but needed help up.

There she is. Standing in the middle of the dance floor looking absolutely lost. He felt a pang as she smiled at something the person she bumped into had said to her. She nodded at him and they began to head for the bar.

Gosh, what is Selphie doing? She should be concentrating on the mission, not flirting. Irvine flared up. The man had taken to touching her… That's it. I have to get her. Raising his hand to stop Chrissie from talking he walked towards his target leaving the blond to sputter angrily.

The man is trouble, for all I know he could have a weapon. He might hurt Selphie…In fact I'm sure he's going to hurt Selphie. Irvine was a few meters away from them but he could only briefly make out what they were saying.

“Well good. Cause I am so gonna beat the crap out of you!” The man had closed the gap between himself and Irvine, raising his fist. Irvine stood his ground wearing a poker face all the while...reactions he learnt from Garden, being the combat artist he was.

“Wait!!!” Selphie interjected. Irvine was a gun specialist but ever since the second Sorceress War he was also a knife and combat veteran. Not a good combo for anyone who pissed him off.

Shifting to his side, Irvine easily managed to avoid the shot. The man tried again and missed. In one fleetingly agile motion, Irvine's fist was in the man's gut as he used his other fist to pummel the man's ribs. Falling back, the man coughed and backed up against the other dancers.

“Are you crazy?” It was at this point that Selphie's legs managed to respond, taking her across the room to check the fallen man for any sign of injuries. Then she stood in between both of the men.

“What are you doing?” She shrieked at Irvine as one of the bouncers began to take Irvine away. She looked angrily at him one last time before turning away to see if Mike needed help.

“Yeah, god this is embarrassing. You sure you don't know him? Cause he seemed pretty pissed” He asked her in between his coughing fit. Selphie nodded her head and helped him up. They stood awkwardly before Mike made the decision to leave while he still had at least a morsel of his manly pride left.

Everyone had gone back to dancing after realizing with disappointment that the fight was over. Seeing that she would not get any work done on this failed pathetic attempt on a mission, Selphie left the club.

“What the hell was that about?” Irvine asked as he met her outside the club, walking closer to Selphie. The streets were pretty quiet and most of the dancers were still boogieing the house down.

“I could ask you the same thing! What were you trying to do? Blow our cover? You nearly killed the man!” Selphie retorted. How dare he ask me that, he was the one who had gotten into a bar brawl!

“Whether I was interested in going to bed with him.” Selphie said, deadpan, silently fuming. Irvine seemed to believe her. His face was seven shades of red…and it was not from embarrassment.

“What? He asked you `that'? I swear I will kick his ass so high, he'd fly!” Irvine roared, trying to go back to the club to find `Mike'. Selphie choked back a giggle. Irvine was such a cutie. He'd do that for me? For just a friend… Guess I can't stay mad at him forever.

“Oh.” Irvine paused and Selphie did not bother filling in the silence, choosing instead, to savor his awkwardness. God. The mission…I hope Drake's in a good mood tonight. A very good mood.

Howard Drake was a very condescending man with a fetish for power. He loved it; he also loved his power games. Unfortunately, for him, he was just a substitute for Headmaster Cid as Cid was taking a vacation in the Trabian region.

“Miss Tilmitt. Kinneas.” Drake called as he sat back in his, or Cid's, chair. He waited for the two SeeDs to give him the 411 on the current situation. Both looked stumped.

“Well? What have you got?” He looked at them with his intense gray eyes, which made Selphie shudder inwardly. He waited before inwardly smirking. Trust them to screw up.

“We were unable to get any information. Yet.” Irvine spoke up, impertinently. Damn that boy. If I weren't just a substitute, I would kick his ass back to Galbadia. Ignoring Irvine's manner he looked towards Selphie. Expecting a somewhat more valuable report from her at least. No chance.

“Miss Tilmitt must I remind you that this is a very important mission. Innocent young women are being slaughtered on the streets. And all you can say is…the place was very crowded?”

“Yes, I see your point. Since that is the case, then you will need to frequent there more often, very VERY often. My suggestion would be that you, Miss Tilmitt, would see that you get yourself a job there.”

Selphie did not like where that was going. “But the only job available there would be…” Selphie let the sentence die without a proper end before continuing. “Sir you don't expect me to be a, a dancer! That is not in my SeeD credentials!” She looked toward Irvine, but all he did was shrug.

“Well, if other young girls can, I don't see why a “SeeD” member can't. After all, aren't SeeDs supposed to be talented in everything…? Dismissed.” His tone silenced them and Drake leaned back in his chair and began to watch them file out of the office, not giving them a chance to defend their sad selves. A small smile appeared on his thin lips as he savored the power he got from dissing them.

“Good morning my fellow comrades.” Zell cheerfully greeted his two other friends as they took their seats at their usual table. He noted Irvine and Selphie's tired faces and took Selphie's rare frown into account. This could only mean one thing. Drake the drag had struck again.

Selphie looked down at her cold soggy cereal before turning back towards them. Mornings were supposed to be fun and sunny but today was an exception. Everything felt sour and gloomy to her.

“What did he do? What did he do???? I'll tell you what he did! That jerk wants me to cage dance in a freaky bar is what he did!!! In front of every one of those slobbering maniacs.” Selphie was out of her chair, speaking in a relatively loud voice, attracting unwanted attention.

The cafeteria was silent, except for the faint whir of the hotdog machine spinning. Everyone else, who had lacked a simple term called life in their little world, was looking at the obvious commotion in wonderment. Slowly, Selphie turned to face Headmaster Drake, her face a nice scarlet hue. Too late for pleasantries.

Without waiting for any kind of response from the young SeeD cadet, Drake continued. “Well Miss Tilmitt,” His thick accent was getting heavier- not a good sign since he only did that when he was getting ready for his most acidic remarks- “I just wanted to remind you to get yourself a nice little sequined outfit… you don't want to have another failed mission to add to your ever accumulating list do we?” With that he sauntered off.

Selphie remained where she was; not knowing whether to laugh or cry. To laugh in gratitude because Drake did not do or say anything too nasty or to cry since he didn't need to do anything nasty. Letting her follow through with the mission was already punishment enough…

The soft peculiar humming from the room lingered on as the man slipped on his elastic gloves. Using the scalpel from the metallic stand by his right, he moved toward the motionless body. The dismembered face of Carly Johnson stared back at him with its motionless eyes; eyes that had dilated and rolled behind their lids as he brought down the cleaver into her flesh. He smiled fondly as he remembered the power and thrill he got from her. Her screams had roused him into an exhilarating high, which made him feel heady with morbid pleasure. All his girls had. Still smiling, he stood beside the cadaver of mutilated flesh and began scraping away the coating of skin that covered the body, lightly shaving off the epidermis carefully, not wanting any wrong movements that would cause the veins to be spewed with blood.

In the background of the greenish illuminated room, the faint outline of the man's back overshadowed his hands, covering them; while they performed their sordid surgery, with the faint tune of Bach overpowering the sick sound of a metallic blade slicing open cold lifeless flesh…


	Series: Lullaby Girls Title: “The Mission” Author: Treesh Aradia Disclaimer: wish they did belong to me…. but alas…they belong to square… Summary: This story involves everyone. This is the revised version. Dedicated to: The greatest Beta Reader any writer can ever have…GYRE!!!! Lullaby Girls The Mission The place was packed full to its capacity with tons of people letting loose- girls who wanna have fun, office people worn-out from getting kicked around by their superiors and lumberjacks exhausted from their monotonous lives. They had filled the entire space of the disco-bar. The music blared on as the sea of bodies gyrated quickly to the strong infectious beat of some new age disco song, lapping against the edges of their limited dancing space. And this was just seeing it from the outside entrance of the club. Getting in was probably easy but getting out would be the difficult part, like a salmon swimming against the current. As it was people were crammed together with their leather-clad get-up and shimmering sequined boob tubes practically pressing onto some other person. And if that was not enough, the place had started overflowing with people at the bars who thought it amusing to spray beer at the dancers. No one even responded, everyone was too occupied in doing their own thing and some went as far as to gulp down the beer being aimed at them. The place was wild and it had a sort of feral tinge to it. “Holy damn almighty.” Selphie Tilmitt said, which was probably the closest proximity to her using any sort of profanities. Suddenly, taking up the mission Drake had given her seemed like a very bad move. I am so going to regret this. Irvine Kinneas who was standing beside her was busy ogling in awe at a group of girls near the line. Well, it was much better than having him gape at her and her `mission attire'. Which was more cleavage than cloth, to her that was. But looking at the clubbers at Glitter Tech, it certainly made her feel as if she were dressed up like a nun. “Well, You ready to boogie?” Irvine smirked at her. He had tried to warn her about the mission requirements but she had been too busy being angry with him to actually pick up on that. At least he looks like he's having fun. Selphie sulked, but managed to answer with an innocent smile and a `nice' nudge to Irvine's ribs, leaving him to fall back a few people behind her. The line at the entrance was starting to move and much to her chagrin her turn was coming up. Irvine was a distance behind her, trying to act inconspicuous as he tried to pick up chicks. Why did Drake pick Irvine to be back up? Rolling her eyes, Selphie miserably followed the line closer and closer to the front. We are on a mission not attending some pseudo orgy… She silently thought. The bulky man at the front, the bouncer, was selecting people `cool' enough to enter. Smoothing her sleek, straight highlighted tan-brown hair she waited for him to see her. Oh god, I haven't been this anxious since the final fight with Ultimecia. Checking her black leather boots for potential dirt- it was a nervous habit she picked up earlier on, she casually eyed Irvine. He was talking to a blond. Flirting as usual. “Hey Miss.” The bouncer hollered over the ever-rising din. Looking back at the man she realized he had given her the A-ok to go in. Smiling her thanks she entered the packed club and was immediately surrounded by moving bodies plastered with the smell of sweat and beer. Wow, that sure was easy. Looking back she found Irvine and the blond walking in. The girl was laughing at something he said. He was looking around the club and suddenly she found herself staring into his misty blue eyes. Quickly she turned back and began to scan the crowded dome-like room. Don't want to cramp his style. She thought sarcastically. Ok…focus on the mission. Selphie warned herself and began registering what she was supposed to do. No1. Keep a look out for any suspicious characters. Yep, easy, no one in this club seems to be suspicious. They are all perfectly normal people dressed for a day at church. Someone has to do something about that darned mission report. Selphie found herself lost in the coiling mass of never-ending dancers. The only suspicious one here seems to be me. She was standing stiffly at the middle of the dance floor, looking at all the dancers strutting their stuff and doing all those NC-17 dance moves. How am I supposed to do my job in a sty like this??? The only way I could see anything is if I were on the platform. That would mean I'd have to be working as a Dancer here. Out of the question. Irritated, Selphie began to weave through the crowd. Glancing occasionally at Irvine. Darn it, he seems to be having fun. *** “So like I was saying, how can I possibly know that his name was Jared? I mean not everyone looks at people's name tags right?” Chrissie said in her very lame attempt at getting Irvine to listen to her. God, can't she just shut up? Irvine thought exasperatedly as the blond jabbered on in that gratingly high-pitched tone. She had taken to touching his arm in a not so subtle way in the name of flirting. Why did I even bother talking to her? I could have looked casual without this Barbie. He was scanning the room searching for something when he stopped. Staring at the girl a few heads in front of him, the girl with her flowing hair of brown highlights. Her face betrayed the clubber image she seemed to want to portray and yet nothing stopped her from looking enticingly stunning… Selphie could have been an angel if she had not also looked like such a foxy devil. Her eyes were cat-like green, striking and yet innocent. The neon blue strobe lights accentuated her glimmering eye shadow and made her straight hair glimmer. His fascination lingered on her high cheekbones and aristocratic nose before resting on her sultry lips with their lightly tinged silver lip-gloss. Selphie sure grew up to be a siren. The techno music and gyrating dancers ceased to exist as he stared at her. Everything seemed to disappear. The first time he saw her in that outfit, he nearly had a cardiac arrest. Irvine knew Selphie was beautiful, but seeing her with her metallic blue handkerchief top and sleek black leather pants, it blew him away, he couldn't stop staring at her the whole night. He tried staring at the other girls, but no one could compare. It was ironic how she was dressed like the devil herself and yet managed to maintain her angelic innocence. He was still staring at her when his conscience began ringing in his head. He pictured the danger alarms buzzing around. Irvine, knock it out. She said she wanted to be friends nothing more. Regaining his composure, he tuned back to Chrissie, occasionally staring at the girl with the angelic face… “And I was like so confused, he said his name was Jared….” *** The streetlamps were dimly lit as the girl walked down the secluded path, the loud music fading as she went further away from the club. The faint rustle of the trees caused her to pause. She heard a sound. Just the wind… She reasoned turning around to scan the area before walking again. In between dancing and humming a tune from Aretha Franklins, she did not notice the shadow sweep behind her before blending in with the darkness again. “I will survive…” This time, she heard that clicking sound again. She stopped her public parading, and began to take out the pepper spray from her glitter bag. Swiftly she turned around to face… whatever it was. Too late. The cleaver was brought down onto her chest the minute she turned. Red exploded in front of her eyes as she felt her lungs burn causing her breath to bubble in her throat. The excruciating pain was too much to bear. The cleaver was brought up then down again as it re-entered her body, hacking her flesh, mutating it into a deformed pile of lump where it was once beautiful white porcelain skin. Her chest felt like hot black coal had been ignited in her collapsed lungs, using it as a cauldron for its fiery hell. Instantaneously, her vision began to get blurred. The only thing she saw was the glimmer from the fatal weapon… and the black trench coat sweeping over her. * “Ooops, sorry.” Selphie mumbled agitatedly as she bumped into her five hundred and fortieth person. All the while desperately trying to search for unusual characters. “No biggie.” The man she bumped into said, flashing her a grin, a very nice fine grin. “Wanna get a beer?” The man asked her. Nodding her head, they began to move towards the bar. * Selphie, where are you. Irvine Kinneas thought, drowning out “Chrissie” as she went on talking about how tired she was and how she very much wanted to go back to her room but needed help up. There she is. Standing in the middle of the dance floor looking absolutely lost. He felt a pang as she smiled at something the person she bumped into had said to her. She nodded at him and they began to head for the bar. Gosh, what is Selphie doing? She should be concentrating on the mission, not flirting. Irvine flared up. The man had taken to touching her… That's it. I have to get her. Raising his hand to stop Chrissie from talking he walked towards his target leaving the blond to sputter angrily. The man is trouble, for all I know he could have a weapon. He might hurt Selphie…In fact I'm sure he's going to hurt Selphie. Irvine was a few meters away from them but he could only briefly make out what they were saying. * “So how about you…” The man had taken Selphie's hand when Irvine shoved him. “Hey man, what the hell do you think you are doing???” The man got up from his fallen position and stared into Irvine's incensed eyes. “Is he your boyfriend or something?” The man looked back at Selphie. Selphie remained expressionless as she began considering the question. “I have never seen him before.” “Well good. Cause I am so gonna beat the crap out of you!” The man had closed the gap between himself and Irvine, raising his fist. Irvine stood his ground wearing a poker face all the while...reactions he learnt from Garden, being the combat artist he was. “Wait!!!” Selphie interjected. Irvine was a gun specialist but ever since the second Sorceress War he was also a knife and combat veteran. Not a good combo for anyone who pissed him off. “I saw him. I really don't think he meant to push you.” Selphie looked back at Irvine, who just shrugged. “Yeah, sorry.” Mike did not seem to believe it, and faked a back down before he turned around again to throw a punch at Irvine. Shifting to his side, Irvine easily managed to avoid the shot. The man tried again and missed. In one fleetingly agile motion, Irvine's fist was in the man's gut as he used his other fist to pummel the man's ribs. Falling back, the man coughed and backed up against the other dancers. “Are you crazy?” It was at this point that Selphie's legs managed to respond, taking her across the room to check the fallen man for any sign of injuries. Then she stood in between both of the men. “What are you doing?” She shrieked at Irvine as one of the bouncers began to take Irvine away. She looked angrily at him one last time before turning away to see if Mike needed help. “Are you alright?” She asked him as he continued coughing. “Yeah, god this is embarrassing. You sure you don't know him? Cause he seemed pretty pissed” He asked her in between his coughing fit. Selphie nodded her head and helped him up. They stood awkwardly before Mike made the decision to leave while he still had at least a morsel of his manly pride left. “So give me a call if you still want to take me up on that offer.” He said, giving her a platinum card. Nodding her head she watched him leave the place. Everyone had gone back to dancing after realizing with disappointment that the fight was over. Seeing that she would not get any work done on this failed pathetic attempt on a mission, Selphie left the club. * “What the hell was that about?” Irvine asked as he met her outside the club, walking closer to Selphie. The streets were pretty quiet and most of the dancers were still boogieing the house down. “I could ask you the same thing! What were you trying to do? Blow our cover? You nearly killed the man!” Selphie retorted. How dare he ask me that, he was the one who had gotten into a bar brawl! “What did he talk to you about?” Irvine asked, looking at her. “Whether I was interested in going to bed with him.” Selphie said, deadpan, silently fuming. Irvine seemed to believe her. His face was seven shades of red…and it was not from embarrassment. “What? He asked you `that'? I swear I will kick his ass so high, he'd fly!” Irvine roared, trying to go back to the club to find `Mike'. Selphie choked back a giggle. Irvine was such a cutie. He'd do that for me? For just a friend… Guess I can't stay mad at him forever. “No dumbo…he asked if I ever considered modeling.” Irvine stared at her. “That's it? Modeling?” Selphie nodded, noticing Irvine relax a bit. “Oh.” Irvine paused and Selphie did not bother filling in the silence, choosing instead, to savor his awkwardness. God. The mission…I hope Drake's in a good mood tonight. A very good mood. *** “Drake.” Irvine replied curtly to the solemn man. “Headmaster Drake.” Came Selphie's polite reply. Howard Drake was a very condescending man with a fetish for power. He loved it; he also loved his power games. Unfortunately, for him, he was just a substitute for Headmaster Cid as Cid was taking a vacation in the Trabian region. “Miss Tilmitt. Kinneas.” Drake called as he sat back in his, or Cid's, chair. He waited for the two SeeDs to give him the 411 on the current situation. Both looked stumped. “Well? What have you got?” He looked at them with his intense gray eyes, which made Selphie shudder inwardly. He waited before inwardly smirking. Trust them to screw up. “We were unable to get any information. Yet.” Irvine spoke up, impertinently. Damn that boy. If I weren't just a substitute, I would kick his ass back to Galbadia. Ignoring Irvine's manner he looked towards Selphie. Expecting a somewhat more valuable report from her at least. No chance. “Well, sir, the place was very crowded. We were unable to perform our duties…” Drake's eyebrows went up, arched like a bridge “Miss Tilmitt must I remind you that this is a very important mission. Innocent young women are being slaughtered on the streets. And all you can say is…the place was very crowded?” “Sir, if you were there you would not have been able to…” Drake interrupted again, stopping Selphie's sentence short. “Yes, I see your point. Since that is the case, then you will need to frequent there more often, very VERY often. My suggestion would be that you, Miss Tilmitt, would see that you get yourself a job there.” Selphie did not like where that was going. “But the only job available there would be…” Selphie let the sentence die without a proper end before continuing. “Sir you don't expect me to be a, a dancer! That is not in my SeeD credentials!” She looked toward Irvine, but all he did was shrug. “Well, if other young girls can, I don't see why a “SeeD” member can't. After all, aren't SeeDs supposed to be talented in everything…? Dismissed.” His tone silenced them and Drake leaned back in his chair and began to watch them file out of the office, not giving them a chance to defend their sad selves. A small smile appeared on his thin lips as he savored the power he got from dissing them. * “Good morning my fellow comrades.” Zell cheerfully greeted his two other friends as they took their seats at their usual table. He noted Irvine and Selphie's tired faces and took Selphie's rare frown into account. This could only mean one thing. Drake the drag had struck again. “Uh oh, what did he do now?” Zell questioned. Irvine gave him a `Don't Ask' look. Selphie looked down at her cold soggy cereal before turning back towards them. Mornings were supposed to be fun and sunny but today was an exception. Everything felt sour and gloomy to her. “What did he do? What did he do???? I'll tell you what he did! That jerk wants me to cage dance in a freaky bar is what he did!!! In front of every one of those slobbering maniacs.” Selphie was out of her chair, speaking in a relatively loud voice, attracting unwanted attention. “Uh, Sef, maybe you should sit down…” Irvine was looking at something behind her, or more like a `someone'. “He's behind me isn't he?” Selphie asked meekly, face a healthy scarlet red. “Hmm, Miss Tilmitt, ever considered taking anger management classes? You have a lot of anger for a girl your age.” The calm voice said behind her. The cafeteria was silent, except for the faint whir of the hotdog machine spinning. Everyone else, who had lacked a simple term called life in their little world, was looking at the obvious commotion in wonderment. Slowly, Selphie turned to face Headmaster Drake, her face a nice scarlet hue. Too late for pleasantries. Without waiting for any kind of response from the young SeeD cadet, Drake continued. “Well Miss Tilmitt,” His thick accent was getting heavier- not a good sign since he only did that when he was getting ready for his most acidic remarks- “I just wanted to remind you to get yourself a nice little sequined outfit… you don't want to have another failed mission to add to your ever accumulating list do we?” With that he sauntered off. Selphie remained where she was; not knowing whether to laugh or cry. To laugh in gratitude because Drake did not do or say anything too nasty or to cry since he didn't need to do anything nasty. Letting her follow through with the mission was already punishment enough… “Yeah...whatever…” * The soft peculiar humming from the room lingered on as the man slipped on his elastic gloves. Using the scalpel from the metallic stand by his right, he moved toward the motionless body. The dismembered face of Carly Johnson stared back at him with its motionless eyes; eyes that had dilated and rolled behind their lids as he brought down the cleaver into her flesh. He smiled fondly as he remembered the power and thrill he got from her. Her screams had roused him into an exhilarating high, which made him feel heady with morbid pleasure. All his girls had. Still smiling, he stood beside the cadaver of mutilated flesh and began scraping away the coating of skin that covered the body, lightly shaving off the epidermis carefully, not wanting any wrong movements that would cause the veins to be spewed with blood. In the background of the greenish illuminated room, the faint outline of the man's back overshadowed his hands, covering them; while they performed their sordid surgery, with the faint tune of Bach overpowering the sick sound of a metallic blade slicing open cold lifeless flesh… *** NExT...