Sequel time. On Earth part two. Unnamed and crap.

CalebNova · May 21, 2004, 2:30am

No name for this yet. This is part one of a sequel to On Earth as it is in Hell.

All rise.

The council will now address the continued discussion of the problem in Universe 46312465, also known as ‘Final Fantasy VIII’. The previous testimony of Marshall Ralhallas has been recorded for those who wish to refresh themselves on the last court event. And it is the will of the Council, Kharadjai Kharan, that you show more restraint this time around.

…First Kharadjai Kharan.

Excuse me?

…Nothing.

Very well. Anything before we begin?

Yeah. I did what you told me to do.

Your petulance only weighs against you, First Kharadjai Kharan. As insistent as you seem to be on your proper title, you don’t appear to be putting forth much effort into holding on to it.

…Yes, Counselor.

You did indeed perform the tasks set for you. But we cannot imagine there could be any limit to the punishments suitable for such a breach of duty like the one you committed. You endangered not just the lives of billions with your carelessness, but an entire Universe in and of itself. Need we remind you of the consequences such a collapse would bring?

…No.

You’ve explained your ‘reasons’ already, and there’s no need to repeat them. But bear the weight of your transgression in mind during this Council, and we can only hope you will understand the scope of your failure.

I didn’t fail!

You were incompetent! Lazy! Unorganized and apathetic over a universe that had been temporarily assigned to your care! You’re fortunate you aren’t herding barely sentient creatures on some distant rock near the edge of the known worlds! The only reason you aren’t is because all did indeed end well, although certainly not through any machinations on your part.

It was through my machinations.

So you say. But you’ve had your chance to defend yourself already, and the Council has decided.

I am a fucking First Class Kharadjai, not an errand boy! I lead armies, I shape destiny! I fix the problems other Kharadjai can’t touch!

AND YET YOU FAILED TO SO MUCH AS INFLUENCE THE OUTCOME OF YOUR LAST ASSIGNMENT! YOU HAVE RETAINED YOUR HOME AND TITLE ONLY BECAUSE OF YOUR PAST SUCCESS, A SUCCESS THAT SEEMS NOW A DISTANT MEMORY! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO CHALLENGE THE COUNCIL!

I used to.

Until you can redeem yourself, your days as the best of the best, the forerunner of all Kharadjai, are over. The Council fails to comprehend how you managed to consistently deliver on so many assignments of far more dire import, and yet when given a simple watcher’s task as in between work, you fell like a stone.

I’m not cut out for babysitting. I’ve always been in the thick of the action, making things happen, not sitting on the sidelines.

The Council will not accept boredom as an excuse. You failed, and that is the end of it.

I didn’t fai-

THAT IS THE END OF IT. Now, we have decided that you will continue your work with Universe 46312465.

Peachy.

You will continue to make life more enjoyable for everyone involved in the conflict. You will solve every problem that comes your way, or rather, their way. You will assure that their lives are restored into not just a standard working order, but an ever better existence.

I’m supposed to give them the fairy tale bullshit they deserve.

Precisely. Even if you do not care to make amends, First Kharadjai Kharan, this Council does, and is doing so, through you. Willing or not.

Okay, fine. I’ll play matchmaker, erase credit card debt, and make sure they all get nice, shiny new cars.

You’ll do more than that. You are not only going to be watching out for their normal welfare. You are now going to be acting as a ‘Guardian Angel’, as it were. Not in any official sense of course, but that’s the closest example.

I thought we weren’t supposed to meddle that much.

Kharan, you can’t meddle anymore than you already did. We will now make it, we hope, perfectly clear, that this Council will hold you personally responsible for any and all ill that befalls these people under your care. And we mean all.

Hey, shit happens. We all have bad days.

Oh no, not anymore they don’t. The Council is taking special license with this case. The normal boundaries have been suspended. You have the authority to do anything and everything within your power to prevent ‘shit’ from happening. The people of Universe 46312465 are about to experience an extraordinary bout of good luck.

Wait, let me do an example. Lets say Zell Dincht tripped and fell down a flight of stairs. That’s an everyday occurrence.

Then you will be there at the bottom to cushion his fall.

That’s ridiculous. That’s so far out of the ballpark concerning my job description. That’s fucking pampering. The Kharadjai do not pamper. Nobody has been pampered by Kharadjai! As bad as they had it, they don’t deserve it that good.

You’re looking at this the wrong way. This is not so much a reward for them, as it is punishment for you. Perhaps this will teach you to care a little more for your fellow man.

I don’t have fellow men, I’m a fucking First Class Kharadjai! I-

YOU WILL GO TO THE UNIVERSE. YOU WILL DO YOUR DUTY. OR YOU WILL BE SPENDING THE NEXT HUNDRED MILLENNIA WATCHING ASTEROIDS COLLIDE OFF THE SURFACE OF THE DESOLATE MOON YOU WILL CALL HOME.

Right, right, well, I’ll get on it then.

Very good. The verdict is decided, your course is clear. The Council is now adjourned.

Help me Jesus.

Oh no, Kharadjai Kharan. Your sentence is final. There will be no appeal to the higher Order.

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Okay, Kharan thought to himself. No problem. None. Nada. I can handle it. I’m cool, a smooth operator, I can take anything that comes my way. I’m stuck watching over every aspect of a group of people’s lives for who knows how long. I’m not okay. I’m sick with rage. I’m fearful of failure. I don’t want to be pulling shit duty for all eternity. Why me? Why?
Still fuming over the injustice of it, Kharan flung open the correct door and faded into the universe. The blackness was familiar to him, and he barely noticed the transition. He was dreading the assignment, possibly the worst he had ever pulled, not only because he felt it was beneath him, but because it would in fact be extremely difficult. The normal business of changing a few things about someone’s life wasn’t hard- An appearance there, a few dates changed here, maybe some creative thoughts inserted, and you could affect a large scale difference down the road. But the incredibly precise results the Council had demanded from him were something he wasn’t sure how to get.
A somewhat omniscient presence could only change the world so much when dealing in general plans. As a Kharadjai it was his job to look at the biggest picture possible. But now he wasn’t supposed to see the big picture. He was micro-managing. With a sigh, he acknowledged that this assignment would require a more direct approach. A very direct approach. One he hadn’t been prepared to take.
The most effective method would be to simply implant himself in their lives. To walk right up and do his job on a personal basis. He hated doing jobs on a personal basis. He always outlived everyone he befriended. And that sucked.
What he would’ve liked to do was just be an asshole for the duration and make their lives comfortable in the material sense but unbearable with his presence. But ‘unbearable’ had just been forcibly removed from his range of behaviors.
He could live with that. He had to.
The sudden rage provoked by the recurring thought that he had to do anything this stupid was a hard thing to swallow.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Squall ran his fingers along the surface of the foreign weapon, searching for something he could identify as a safety. He found what he thought might be it along the right side, an elongated bar with a tab that could be pushed up or down. Everything else seemed to be there too, magazine, receiver, trigger and trigger guard, barrel and stock. It was a rather ugly weapon in his opinion, although the wood grain stock was nice, if somewhat dented. There was some lettering, but while the shape of the letters themselves were familiar, they didn’t come together to make any words he understood. Kalashnikov. For all he knew, that could be anything from the country of origin to the designation of the caliber. When he was done cataloguing, he’d have to bring Scott in to look at them, and see if he recognized any.
As he picked over and sorted the array of weaponry left behind by their would-be captors, Squall’s mind wandered.
The days following the attack had been strange, an odd quiet had blanketed the Garden. He could recall a similar feeling in the air after the assault by the old Galbadia Garden, during the Sorceress affair.
Seifer had been given a military burial, although few attended, many of those who did just curious onlookers. The hard truth was, most people neither noticed nor cared. Even to those who knew him most his death brought not so much grief as just relief. Seifer had no place anywhere anymore. His life was a chore to himself and to others, and in the back of all their minds they probably all felt it was better this way. It was an ugly thing in himself that Squall didn’t like, to feel that way about the death of someone who had once been the closest thing he had ever had to a real family. But he couldn’t help it. Of all of them he knew Quistis had taken it the hardest. She always had taken the responsibility upon herself for their extended family, and now she was weighed down by part of this burden too, somehow feeling that she had failed with Seifer, that her mission to make him what he used to be would forever be incomplete.
Nobody quite understood why, but Deling city was still intact, when by all rights it should have been destroyed with the rest of everything tied to the Knot. Yet still it stood. With the sudden disappearance of all of Julian’s soldiers and consequently its government the country had once again collapsed. News had been sparse, but what little Squall had heard indicated that different split military factions were once again in control of various parts of the country.
Slowly, life returned to normal. Repairs were quickly performed and soon all the damage had vanished as if it had never happened. Memories though, could be so easily patched over or caulked. They would remain far longer than the physical.
Then one day that was just like the rest, the air in the commons area, air that had been as empty as air usually is was suddenly filled with a hoarse shout and flailing limbs. Scott Keyor appeared out of thin air a good ten feet above the floor and dropped like a stone, the impact rendering him unconscious. The story he revealed upon awakening was fantastic even for him, but there was no reason to disbelieve him, especially after his inexplicable appearing act.
A few weeks later, and it was like he had never left.
A small smile widened Squall’s lips. Unwilling to ask for a free ride, Scott had been inducted as a SeeD in training after he had passed the written exam with a little study help from Michelle. He was now undergoing rigorous physical training, during the beginning of which he had shown some aptitude with lighter bladed weaponry, and had finally decided on the Katana as his primary weapon. He was having a little difficulty with SeeD tactics, which was to be expected since they were grounded firmly in martial arts and situations of magic use, as opposed to Scott’s homeworld training, where firearms were the only weapon on the field. The SeeDs had watched with some amusement as Scott attempted to teach Zell how to move with him in two by two cover formation, after which Squall explained it wasn’t really applicable, since someone with a sword was just going to close the distance.
Squall was shaken from these musings as footsteps reached his ears, and he turned to see Scott himself enter the roof.
“Hey Squall. Zell said you wanted to see me?”
Squall nodded, indicating the weapons cache. “These are being catalogued and stored away, I was hoping you could tell me a little about which ever ones you recognize.”
Squall picked up the one he had just been holding with the wooden stock, peering at the stamping.
“This one is a, ‘calash-nigh-cough’,” He sounded it out.
Scott grinned. “Kalashnikov, an AK-47. Chambers a 7.62mm round, with an effective range fifteen-hundred meters. Thirty round magazine, semi or full automatic fire, six hundred rounds a minute.”
Squall set the AK down and hefted another. “This one?”
“A Heckler and Koch G3A3, that one is currently using the 20 round staggered magazine, 7.62 standard NATO round, six hundred rounds per minute. Not sure on the effective range.”

“This one?”
Scott sighed, figuring he was in for a long next couple hours.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Zell frowned, counting the number of boxes in front of him again. He knew he wasn’t the best at math, but he could count, and it looked like one was missing. He swore, scratching the back of his head. If one of the boxes filled with the pipes that made up the stage was missing, that meant it had been improperly stored in somewhere else after it had been disassembled. This wouldn’t have been a serious problem if it weren’t for the fact that everything was stored in the MD level, and since he was supposed to make sure the Garden Festival equipment was in the right place, he would have to go rooting around for it.
“Somabitch,” He grumbled, kicking the box closest to him though being careful not to do it hard enough to break it.
There was nothing for it. Resigning himself to his fate, Zell prepared himself for the inevitable wandering through the maze-like infrastructure of the Garden.
But he’d be damned if he’d do it alone. Ascending one of the many ladders in the MD, Zell went up in search of someone else to help with the heavy lifting.
Or at least he was, until his foot slipped on a rung coated in grease.
The universe was large, but not incapable of specifics if you knew what to look for. Kharan knew exactly what to look for, and so he clearly saw the slight shift. He groaned. It was a short fall, certainly not fatal, but he would obey his orders by the letter. At least until the heat died off. ‘Here we go…’
Zell’s fall was arrested by a pair of arms that caught him out of the air and flipped him back upright to his feet. The entire incident occurred in less than a second, and for a moment he stood, confused. He could have sworn he had just been on that ladder…
“Dude. Turn around.”
Zell spun around.
“Yeah, thanks. Hey, maybe next time you climb a ladder, you should hold on to the rungs or something.”
“Who the hell are you?!” Zell sputtered, wondering exactly how some guy he had never seen before had appeared behind him in the two seconds it had taken to climb the first few feet.
“Scott Khar- Oh fuck it, I’m going to have to go over all that shit later anyway. Look, just take me to Squall okay, and call a general meeting or whatever.”
Zell brought his fists up. “I don’t know how you got down here-”
Kharan sighed. “Please, sir, that isn’t necess- AGH FUCKING SHIT I HATE THIS.”
“What? You’re trespassing man, you’re gonna be in big trouble-”
“Just, just shut the hell up, okay? Take me to Squall. Now. I don’t have time for this. I want to get this over with. Do you understand me? Take me to Squall!”
“You’re gonna see Squall all right man, but you ain’t gonna like it.”
“Haha. Right. Let’s do this.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *
When Zell came barging into his office with a man he had never seen before, Squall actually wasn’t all that surprised. Zell came barging into places all the time, the only thing that changed was why.
“What is it?”
Zell gestured to the tall stranger with him. “This guy was creeping around the MD level, said he wanted to see you. I don’t who he is, but he isn’t a SeeD at least.”

Kharan sighed again, something he felt he would probably be doing a lot now. “Is Keyor here? He’ll recognize me. Seriously.”
That could mean any number of things, Squall thought. The worst of which being they had yet another visitor from another world. He thumbed the intercom and called Scott to the office. An uncomfortable silence fell while they were waiting.
“So…” Kharan ventured. “You guys like… Stuff?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Zell scoffed.
“I’m trying to make polite conversation, douchebag, something you apparently don’t know anything about. It’s what people do when they’re like us, sitting around with their thumbs up their asses.”

“Speak for yourself man.”
At the moment the double doors opened and Scott walked in, freezing instantly when he saw Kharan. Kharan gave a mocking little wave.
“Cheerio, old boy. Fancy seeing you here.”
“Oh God,” Scott groaned. “What now?”

“Relax, compadre. My being here is only bad news for one of us, and it isn’t any of you.”

“So you know this man?” Squall asked, reaching for the intercom again.
“Yeah, I do,” Scott wearily replied, sinking into a chair. “This is the, uh, ‘gatekeeper’ I told you about, the one that sent me back.”
Kharan chortled at that one. “‘Gatekeeper’. It has a certain ring to it. 'He who’d cross the Door of Death must answer me these questions three, ‘ere the other side he see…’”
Zell blinked. “You didn’t tell us he asked you questions dude. What where they? Did he give you time to look up answers or something? Shit, if it’d been me I bet I wouldn’t have been coming back.”
This time Kharan roared with laughter, collapsing into a chair. “Oh, it wasn’t hard Zell, just asked him what his favorite color was and stuff.”

“Oh. …Then why even ask at all?”

“It’s a standard procedure. The lawyers insisted.”
Scott rubbed his eyes. “He’s yanking your chain Zell, that was just some quotes from a movie.”
“Aw, fuck you gate dude,” Zell grunted, coloring.
“No no no!” Kharan hissed. “Don’t get mad! Calm down okay, calm down.”
Scott looked at him askance. “Why do you care-”
The double doors opened again to admit the rest of the hastily assembled crew, filing in to take the rest of the seats. Selphie looked with some concern at Zell’s angry face, plopping herself down in his lap, which seemed to distract him from his current rage. Rinoa took her usual place behind Squall while Quistis sat primly and Irvine slouched about as far as he could. Kharan felt a migraine coming on. This assignment was going to suck so bad there weren’t words for how much it blew.
“Okay,” Kharan started before anyone else said anything. “Lets get this over with.”
He reached into the right pocket of his jeans and pulled out a roll of paper, unfurled it, and started reading it off in a monotone.
“Hereby under the orders of the Council, First Kharadjai Kharan is sentenced for his part in the recent disaster of Universe 46312465 to watch duty, blah blah blah, gross misuse of power, blah blah blah, negligence of the highest order, nobody gives a shit, to assuage any and all needs of those subjected to the disaster, blah blah blah, under the strictest penalties available to his rank, neener neener neener, until at such time he is relieved from his duty, The End. My, wasn’t that a lovely story.”
“What does it mean?” Squall questioned him.
“It means I have to hang around and help you guys get your kicks for awhile, that’s what it means. It means I have to change your fucking Pampers.”
Quistis broke in. “I don’t understand. We know who you are and a little of what you do- but you’re here because something else is about to happen?”
“No, I’m here to make sure nothing else happens at all. Sit back, relax, grab some chips and dip. You won’t have to worry about evil sorceresses, wack jobs from alternate dimensions or any other assorted crazy shit while I’m being forced to watch your collective asses. If it was just yours Quistis, fine, I could watch your ass all day no problem, it’s a work of art. But all of them? It’s going to suck to be me for awhile.”
An outburst came from Zell. “Yeah? Where were you when all the stuff was happening before then?”
“I was around, okay, the hell you complaining about you’re alive aren’t you?”
“Seifer isn’t.”
“Blame Hyne man, not me. Besides, we’re usually not allowed to interfere that directly. So don’t expect this sort of star treatment in the future. You’re nothing in the big scheme of things, got it, you’re a bunch of fucking ants. Sorry, sorry, I take it back. You’re beautiful ants, really, I mean it.”
“And what do you expect from us?” Squall asked.
“A room would be nice, but I can sleep anywhere. I can go forever without eating, though I’ll get damn hungry, and I don’t really need to breathe if that’s a problem. I’m not usually this accommodating, so don’t think it’s really me wanting to say these things.”

There was a moment of silence as the group of friends looked at each other. One by one they gave a sort of silent vote in the form of a shrug or a nod. Squall sighed and rubbed his eyes. “We will provide you a room until you finish whatever ever it is you’re supposed to be doing. First though, could you provide some sort of proof you are who you say you are?”

Kharan raised his hands in a ‘what?’ gesture. “Like, what? Cut off my leg and make it reappear or something? Okay, but I warn you that I do bleed, so maybe you’ll want to look into getting hardwood floors up here when I’m done.”
Kharan pulled a large machete out of thin air and raised it in his arm, immediately halting at the chorus of no’s.
“Stop!” Rinoa yelled. “No no, you don’t have to do that.”
Kharan quirked an eyebrow. “You sure? It’s a hell of a show.”
“I think the knife is proof enough,” She replied nervously.
Kharan sighed dramatically, making the machete disappear again. “Some people have no sense of spectacle. Whatever, I want some food. You guys got chimichangas? I fucking love chimichangas.”
With that, Kharan was out the door before anyone could reply.
* * * * * * * * * * * *

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This next part right here will be in chapter two at some point, possibly three.

Over here!

What are you doing? Keep your head down!

No.

I saw the fireworks!

No honey, those aren’t fireworks. C’mon, this way.

Left, you idiot. Left.

Watch your step, sweetie, it’s slippery.

Jesus. Slip and fall.

Pick me up!

I can’t now, we have to move. Please, don’t go ahead.

She always goes ahead.

Watch your head, the ceiling is low.

Might knock off her bow otherwise. I remember giving that to her. Christmas.

What was that?

Nothing, nothing. Keep moving.

Stop here, you dumb fuck. Don’t go out.

Daddy, I’m scared!

I know, I know. We’ll be safe soon.

Liar.

Just have to go a little further.

And she believed you. And you believed yourself.

No Emily, not that way!

Give me an alternative.

(A child’s scream.)

Emily!

Give me a different ending.

Please, don’t shoot, please! We were only hiding!

Daddy!

Give me anything.

That’s right, we surrender, please, don’t shoot.

Anything but this.

Daddy, help!

Thank you, thank you, Emily come here.

Come here?

Take my hand, it’s all right.

You killed her.

It’s all right now. It’s all right.

You forgot, you forgot you son of a bitch. Friendly fire. Mortars don’t pick and choose.

(An explosion.)

On the wet rubble.

(Sounds of pain.)

She looked like a doll washed up on shore.

Emily?!

In that little blue dress.

Oh Jesus, no.

Oh Jesus, yes. Oh Jesus, save her.


Scott Kharan woke up, and the taste of the world was bitter.

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And then just for the hell of it, here’s something I tossed off that I’m not even sure I’m going to use.

“I like you Squall,” Kharan said expansively.

Squall frowned. He knew this was a compliment, but a rather odd one coming from Kharan. “…Why?”

“Because I feel you. I understand where you’re coming from. You know what it’s like to be alone in a crowd. You know what it’s like when nobody understands the things you’ve seen. I mean, now you’re sort of slowly merging back into society, and I envy you for that.”

“Why would you envy me?”

Kharan looked at him for a long second, then seemed to make some sort of decision. He nodded. “Okay, imagine this. Imagine outliving almost everyone you’ve ever known. Imagine seeing worlds that nobody has ever seen, experiencing incredible things that nobody would ever believe. You’re already a soldier, and that separates you from the average man, sets you apart. You know that feeling. Nobody but another warrior can truly know you. It’s like when the men came back from World War 2- You know anything about World War 2?”

Squall searched his memory. “I think Keyor may have said something about that a few times.”

“World War 2 was exactly that- The largest war Scott’s world had ever known. But what they don’t know was that it was even larger than that. See, every now and then, Evil makes its move. Call it what you will, Bad Karma, Evil Fate, Satan, Lucifer, the Devil. Whatever you call it, what it comes down to is that it is Evil, and when it gathers its power at certain times it makes a push. World War 2 was just one of those pushes, and it occurred in every single universe there is in one way or another. Hitler spoke not just in his own voice, but with all the authority of Hell. In Keyor’s universe, his country won. In other universes it lost, and in some they’re still fighting it.”

“What about this one?”

“The Push manifested itself in your universe when the Cetra were wiped out. As you can see, they lost.”

"…Not Ultimecia?"

“My friend, Ultimecia was small potatoes compared to some of the other shit Hell has thrown at us. It took six of you to stop her cold. It took millions to win World War 2.”

Squall considered this, feeling the old victory to be somewhat cheapened. It hadn’t felt like ‘small potatoes’ to him. In fact, it had at times been terrifying.

Kharan continued. “But I digress. Anyway, when the war was won, the troops came back home. You wouldn’t understand this since you’ve always been a soldier, but imagine having once been a civilian, with a regular home life or a regular job, then being plucked out of these settings and thrown into the most monstrous blood bath the world had ever seen. Then you get on the boat and go back home, and when the ramps go down and you come streaming out there’s a party waiting for you. They throw colorful confetti and streamers in the air, loud music blaring. You should enjoy it. And maybe for awhile, you do.” Kharan’s speech grew softer, his face troubled and his eyes haunted. “But then you try to tell them about it, and they don’t get it. They look at you in sympathy. They don’t understand things like the constant, bone deep weariness, the terrible blast of machine guns. The can’t comprehend what it’s like to use a corpse for a blanket, what it’s like when your hands won’t stop shaking after shooting all day. And no matter what, they congratulate you. They treat you like a hero, but you don’t feel like one. A thumbs up for disemboweling that German boy with your bayonet. A pat on the back for shooting another through the throat. Then you go home and get a life, though probably not the one you had envisioned. And for all those people you killed, the world is much the same. And at night sometimes, for years later, if you wake up screaming, turn on the light and bury your face in your hands, you’ll wonder why if the war was such a wonderful thing, it burned you to ashes on the inside.”

There were a few moments of silence following this. Kharan visibly shook himself, blinking his eyes rapidly and clearing the far away look out of them. “But enough out of me. They still have those chicken wings? I want some damn chicken wings.”

With that, he left.

And the worst part was, Squall reflected, was that he did understand.

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Tell me what you think, if it’s pretty good, or if I should scrap it.

Pierson · May 21, 2004, 2:38am

Kharan is playing the Sims! For Gods!

One day I must read OE 1. Until then, this looks pretty damned sweet. Continue, do.

Also please, for the love of God, don’t call your own fics crap. It looks like you’re either a) angsting or b) looking for sympathy reviews. I know you’re doing neither and it makes you look like an FFnet 12-year old. Sorry, just a pet hate of mine.

CalebNova · May 21, 2004, 3:03am

Oh, God. If you do read OEAIIIH, don’t let the first few chapters discourage you. It’s somewhere around chapter seven that I gain any sort of skill with the written word. It really does get better as it goes along, since by the end of it I was four years older than when I started it.

Yeah, I do have a tendency to depreciate my work, mostly because I am honestly never truly happy with it. And really, every review is a sympathy review, since instead you could just go to the library and read a real book.

Edit: Actually if you were referring to the title of the thread that wasn’t depreciation, I used ‘crap’ as just a sort of literary shrug, an equivalent word would have been ‘whatever’. How about ‘stuff’ instead. Or, ‘as of yet’.

Pierson · May 21, 2004, 3:08am

That’s okay then. And hell, it took me an entire story to gain my writing legs.

GG_Crono · May 21, 2004, 11:16am

I actually know exactly how you feel…I’d never know if my writings were any good at all unless somebody else would tell me.

This is interesting so far…I’ll be sure to keep an eye on it.

Elysial · May 21, 2004, 5:26pm

I LIKE this story… It’s really well written and funny in all the right places. That’s something I’ve never been able to do properly, and it’s a great skill to have.
Keep it up! :kissy:

Lex · May 21, 2004, 7:33pm

Ah, it’s nice to see a continuation of something I like. On Earth 1 was one of the first grittier fics I read in RPGC.

Weiila · May 22, 2004, 1:10am

Kharan makes me laugh on a distance, but I’d probably punch him if he was around in real life, oi Excellent character there, Caleb, and the story is neat as well.

Aldred · May 29, 2004, 3:39pm

OE1 was awesome, in my opinion, and your sequel’s looking cool as hell. I look forward to more, Caleb!

Elysial · May 29, 2004, 4:04pm

Oh man… I love this…
Keep going!
Please…?
My sanity may depend on it…

Awesome story!

CalebNova · May 29, 2004, 6:02pm

Finally posted it at Fanfiction.net and thought of a name. Titled with a sense of irony, ‘Life in Providence’.

Lex · May 31, 2004, 12:52am

You know, I’m trying my best, but I can’t stop picturing Kharan as one of those ultra-powerful-super-suave villians on Angel. 'Course he’s not a villian but he’s got he ultra-powerful-super-suave going on.

vanguard_Ziggy · June 4, 2004, 10:37pm

I loved the first series, could’ve done without the sex talk, and porno, but what can I say, im a good boy. Anyway, the way you had Kharan talk about the soldier coming home from world war ii, that was just great, I hope you keep it up, because I see a future top New York times journalist here, in the making.

CalebNova · June 7, 2004, 3:49pm

Next chapter. Don’t have a name for it yet.

“Look, all I’m saying is- Quistis is stacked. There, is that so wrong to notice? In the wonderful world of melons, those ain’t no garden variety. I think her chest torpedoes sunk the Lusitania. She’s walking down the hallway and her boobs are like ‘excuse me, pardon me, coming through-’”

Scott sighed. “Is it time for you to go watch someone else now?”

“What? You’re not enjoying the pleasure of my company? What kind of guy doesn’t like to talk about breasts?”

“You’re distracting me from contemplating a different pair of breasts.”

Kharan waved off his protest. “Man, I was on a roll. That was a fucking soliloquy. An ode. I should write it down and sing it to her.”

Scott grunted noncommittally and gripped the bar at his chest, sitting up again. He was working on developing the upper body strength he would need in the future. Lifting weights was never all that enjoyable, but it was an especially difficult task when Kharan was just sitting there on another bench, talking nonstop about whatever seemed to flit through his hyperactive mind. At the moment he was fixated on Quistis’s body, a more interesting subject perhaps than his previous ones but still annoying.

Kharan veered off on yet another tangent, although it was parallel to his last one. “Speaking of tits, how about Selphie’s? What do you think, on a scale of one to ten? They’re small, but proportional. And there are two school’s of thought on that anyway, some would say that more than a mouthful is wasteful, others believe that bigger is always better. I myself lay somewhere in between, since frankly good boobs are good boobs, and I find that it all has less to do with size than with shape and nipple placement. Never doubt the value of well centered nipples.”

If someone in the past had told Scott that in future he would be training to become a mercenary in another universe by doing crunches with weights while discussing symmetrical nipple placement on females with a superhuman, chances are he would not have had anything to say since his mind would have been blown.

Scott shook his head. “I, uh, haven’t really thought about it quite like that.”

“Then new horizons have been opened for you my friend. Next time you get your hands on a pair of breasts, I am assuming that you have at some time done so before and that you will be doing so again very soon with that one girl whose name I forget, study them. For what you hold in your hands may well be a treasure with no equal. I’m telling you, I’ve been far and wide and seen every universe there is and all in between, and there is a depressing shortage of good tits in the universe. And from what I’ve seen, you may well have stumbled across just such a pair. Think of that next time you take your girlfriend for granted.”

It was without a doubt the most twisted relationship advice he had ever received from anyone at anytime anywhere. And yet, it made a sort of sense. With that thought, he knew had to get away from Kharan.

“Sure, I will,” He muttered, getting to his feet. “I gotta go hit the shower. It’s been real.”

“What does that mean, ‘it’s been real’? I say it too, sure, but it doesn’t really make any sense. Of course it’s been real, by saying that you’re suggesting that under different circumstances this meeting might have been less ‘real’, as if we had reached some sort of existential plane apart from physical reality during the course of our conversation. To suggest that we could in some way change reality through our meaningful or lack of meaningful actions is ludicrous, and what really defines ‘meaningful’ anyway- Scott? Right, well then just walk out the door why don’t you. Like I care.”

Kharan stood up. “One hour and twenty-six minutes. Eh, long enough. Okay, who’s next? And why am I talking to myself?”


 * * * * * * * * * * * *


Kharan had been at the Garden for two days, Quistis reflected, and she still hadn’t grown accustomed to his presence. At the moment he was eating a cafeteria hotdog at a desk across from hers in her classroom. He had been staring at her for the last half hour while she calmly graded papers, and she was starting to suspect he was there for no reason at all than to attempt to unnerve her. Odd, she had never noticed that he had grey eyes before, an unusual color. Placing her pencil down firmly next to her pile of papers, she took off her glasses and folded them, setting them aside and clasping her hands in front of her.

“Are you here for something in particular, or did you just need someone to stare at?”

Kharan shrugged. “If I’m going to stare at someone, I can’t think of many people better than you.”

She wasn’t going to deign that comment with a direct response. “I thought you were supposed to be watching Scott right now.”

“Hmm, let me think about that. Would I rather hang out in a gym that smells like feet and ass with a guy who hardly said two words, or would I like to sit around in a comfortable classroom that smells like you. Such choices to test us.”

That raised an eyebrow. “Kharan, just what are you suggesting?”

“Now, just hold on a minute. Just because I was sitting around in the gym talking about your boobs does not mean I came up here in the hopes of scoring.”

“Talking about my what?”

“Oops. Did I say that out loud? Oh yeah, that’s right, I did because I don’t give a fuck.”

Quistis sighed, rubbing her temples. “Wonderful, another self-proclaimed ladies man with the requisite inexplicable obsession with breasts. I don’t need this.”

“Inexplicable? Since when did that become inexplicable?”

“So you can provide a solid theory as to why you’re drawn to sacks of fat attached to my torso other than ‘you just are’.”

Kharan leaned forward, sensing a challenge. “Indeed I can.”

“Oh really?” Quistis asked, unconvinced. Kharan was crude and brazen, but he admittedly had her interest now. “Do tell.”

“Opposites attract.”

“How wonderfully cliche. Any more quintessential anecdotes you’d like to drop on me?”

“I’m not done yet. Think about it- Everything that men find attractive about women are things that they don’t have. A man’s body is hard and angular, a women’s is soft and round. That’s what we want . Everything that makes you different from us. Breasts, longer eyelashes, more delicate noses and chins, rounded hips and ass, more shapely thighs and legs, even your arms are rounder than ours, and of course the clincher, the vagina.” The word rolled off Kharan’s tongue with a particular savoring. “Like I said, everything that makes you a woman and me a man is what makes me drawn to you.”

Quistis nodded slowly, somewhat taken aback at the unusual amount of sense Kharan made. “I admit, it does seem to be a solid theory. So you would also apply it to what makes a woman attracted to a man?”

“I’m afraid that being a heterosexual male I lack the research necessary for such a conclusion. Hell if I know, you tell me. But if I had to venture a guess based on what I do know, I’d say that it doesn’t apply. If that were true, then woman would go for men with broad chins. This is sometimes the case, but then how do you explain guys like Leonardo DeCaprio? He’s positively waifish. But chicks dig him. Also it would mean that girls would like body hair on men, but if the latest trends are any indicator that’s also not true. Seems to me that girls like guys who look like girls. Think that one over if you dare.”

“I hardly think that blanket statement can be applied to all women.”

Kharan grinned. “Speaking from personal preference, Quistis? Like your men a little rough? Like the feeling of stubble on your inner thighs?”

The last line of his taunt was so vulgar that Quistis had the feeling he was far more comfortable being familiar with her than she was with him. He had known her for two days and already treated her like an old friend, accustomed to his foibles. She realized it was entirely possible that it had never even crossed his mind that she might be offended. The look on her face gave her away.

“Oh. Too much? Sorry, sorry. Too many years in too many armies you know, I got a mouth on me. It’s in my nature to offend I guess, but considering the circumstances I don’t really want to get off on the wrong foot…”

Quistis swallowed. “That was over the line.”

“Yeah, yeah… I gotta go then, Selphie’s turn and all…”

Shamefaced, Kharan pushed himself off the desk and to his feet, hurrying out the door. It was nice to know that he could actually be genuinely sorry, a hint of depth to his constant sarcasm, a constant that Quistis was beginning to suspect was just the surface of the ocean. The sound of his footsteps clacking on the tile receded down the hall and then faded away.

Leaving her to wonder exactly why the comment, as crude as it was, had hurt so much. Yes, it had been a nasty thing to say, but he had been teasing, it had been a joke. No doubt he had expected her to fire back with something cutting. No, the reason it had affected her so much was that it was a painful reminder of the lack of, well… Just the sort of activity alluded to by him. She hated having to admit to herself that she was lonely, since then she could think of little else. And she wasn’t the type of person who could just go out and, ‘get laid’, as Kharan no doubt would have put it.

Quickly standing up and striding across the room, Quistis grabbed her whip off a hook by the door, and headed downstairs to channel her frustrations through physical exertion of a different kind.


 * * * * * * * * * * * *


Kharan reached over to the desk next to him, grabbed a heavy hardcover book, and smacked himself violently in the forehead with it. “Damn! Third day and I’m fucking up. They’ll find out too. I know they will. And then, and then… Stuff will happen. Oh, crap.”

“Kharan? Is that you?”

Selphie’s head appeared from behind the bookshelf behind him. “Hey! What are you doing here? Oh, wait, is it my turn?”

“Yeah. Why are you in the library?”

“Oh, looking up some things,” She smiled. “Rinoa’s really busy right now with monster studies and I told her I’d do some research for her when I had some time.”

“Monster studies. The study of monsters. But of course. Is there a drinking fountain in here or something?”

She pointed towards the doorway. “Just next to the door there, by the plant.”

Kharan made his way to the fountain and bent over it, sucking in copious amounts of water while his mind churned furiously. No fuck ups. Don’t say anything like you said to Quistis. No- don’t say anything at all. They’ll be paying attention now for sure. You get her mad, you’re fucked with a capital F. CAPITAL F.

Standing back up and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Kharan made his way back over to Selphie and calmly seated himself in a chair on the other side of the desk she was at.

The following five minutes were filled with a deafening silence.

Selphie was the first to break it with a tentative, “Are you alright?”

“What? Yes. Absolutely.”

“You’re not mad at me, are you? I know you really didn’t want to do this…”

“Negative. I will follow the prerogative. All your base are belong to us.”

She ventured a smile. “So you’re under orders, but we can still have fun! Oh, there’s all sorts of things to do here at Balamb, there are a few clubs, and boating, and several wonderful restaurants-”

“Don’t care.”

Crestfallen, Selphie looked back down to her books. Kharan’s eyes widened and he let loose a noise that sounded a lot like ‘erk!’.

“I mean, I don’t care about Balamb, but I do care about you. Yes, that’s what I meant to say.”

Selphie’s eyes brightened. “Really?”

“No.”

They dimmed again.

“Yes! Yes. Completely.”

The look she gave him let him know she wasn’t buying it this time. Kharan winced. “Okay, look. So I don’t want to be here. I’m sure you don’t want me to be here either. So how about this- if you could just pretend to be really happy all the time, and get your friends in on it too, I’ll be out of here that much faster. How about that?”

She frowned, an unnatural expression on her. “I am really happy. And I don’t think that would fool anybody.”

“It was worth a try,” He grumbled. “Anything to keep from spending an eternity in this crapshack.”

“Hey! Balamb Garden is not a crapshack, it’s a wonderful institution and you take that back!”

“Make me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Garden might not be your favorite place in the world, but it’s mine, and I’d bet it’s better than where you live any day!”

It was possible she had him on that account, but he’d never admit it. “Fine, it’s not a crapshack.”

She settled back in her chair, satisfied. “Good.”

"…It’s a shitshack."

Selphie’s cheeks colored.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Man, relax. The Garden is great, it’s wonderful, it’s the best place in the history of the multiverse. If God needed a house, he’d live here. I was messing around, okay?”

“Okay, but it was still mean,” She sighed. “But I thought you weren’t supposed to make anyone mad?”

"…Who the hell told you that?"

“Well, since you keep getting upset whenever we do, we all assumed that you weren’t supposed to-”

“Damn it!” Kharan yelled, startling her and everyone else in the vicinity. “Yeah, well… Don’t spread it around.”

“If you’re not supposed to do that, then why do you?”

“I’m letting my anger control me.”

“Oh. Maybe you shouldn’t do that if you don’t want to get in trouble?”

“Good call. Easier said than done.”

Silence once more descended on the library.


 * * * * * * * * * * * *


They had all gathered in the commons area by the front bench, not by any plan or design but simply because Zell had been sitting there next to Selphie, and Squall and Rinoa had seen them and stopped to talk. Then Quistis had come down from her classroom and joined the group and Irvine and Scott had shown up from somewhere else. Kharan usually didn’t have anything against chatting it up, but standing around discussing where they might or might not all go out to eat that night wasn’t his idea of a high time.

Having said her piece on the subject, Rinoa’s interest also wandered. Her gaze lighting on the main entrance, her focus sharpened on someone striding purposefully inside. She was sure that she had never seen this other woman before. The woman was striking, tall and blonde and of course buxom. Her stance indicated some anger, and suddenly her facial similarities started a spark of suspicion in Rinoa’s mind. When the woman drew close enough for Rinoa to see her flashing grey eyes, it became abundantly clear exactly who she was looking at.

“Scott!”

Both Scotts, Kharan and Keyor, jumped, Kharan looking guilty. The woman rolled her eyes at Scott. “Not you, the other Scott. Get over here!”

Kharan slowly got to his feet from where he had been sitting beside the bench and apprehensively made his way over in front of her. “Oh, hey sis. What’s the word-”

“The word, my wayward brother, is, as usual, I might add, all about you.”

“Now just a damn minute-”

“Yeah, just a damn minute! What the hell were you thinking, assuming you were thinking at all?”

“That’s cold-”

“Explain! Now!”

Now Kharan was moving from sheepish to angry. “Who the hell-”

"You the hell. This is your fault, your fault I’m here, your fault you’re here, and everything else I can think of is your fault too."

“If you don’t like the heat, get out of the kitchen.”

“Oh, I am. But first, a certain governing body known as the Council sent me here as a reminder, a reminder that no matter how bad things seem here, they’ll be much worse on the third moon of Jupiter. Think that one over.”

With that, she turned on one heel and stormed back out of the Garden.

“You’re not the boss of me!” Kharan childishly yelled after her.

“No, but they are,” Was the reply that came floating back.

Kharan groaned. “Son of a bitch. This isn’t getting any easier.”

“That was your sister?” Irvine asked him, looking speculatively at her receding behind.

Kharan snorted. “If you think you can melt that ice sculpture you have my blessings, but don’t count on it. She can and will kick the shit out of you.”

That put a damper on Irvine’s intentions. “Ah. Well, plenty of fish in the sea.”

“I wish she had stayed longer,” Selphie said. “I bet she’s really nice when she’s not mad at you. What’s her name?”

“Lila. Since, you know, she’s so obviously flowerlike. God.”

“You could have at least introduced her,” Selphie continued, poking Kharan in the shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” Kharan said darkly. “She’ll be back.”

“I don’t know Selphie,” Zell said, popping his fingers. “I don’t think we could handle more than one of them.”


 * * * * * * * * * * * *

Pierson · June 7, 2004, 4:09pm

Your character’s dialogue reminds me a lot of Quentin Tarantino’s coversations between characters. You know the ones.

That’s a GOOD thing, BTW.

GG_Crono · June 7, 2004, 4:23pm

…I’m sorry, you lost me around the time they started talking about boobs.

Mmm…boobies.

demigod · June 8, 2004, 11:24am

Keep it coming Caleb, I’m loving every word.

CalebNova · June 10, 2004, 1:55am

Cool, I do love Pulp Fiction.

Mr. Shub niggurath, sir.

vanguard_Ziggy · August 18, 2004, 12:19pm

If Kharan thought Quistis’ breasts were big enough to sink the Lusitania, I wonder how he’d feel if he saw Tifa Lockheart’s chest coming straight at him.

Still not comfortable with the sex in the story, but that’s just me. Keep it coming Caleb.
Actually this title could be called what a guy wants. Don’t know, feel free to use that if you want.