To A Thief - Chapter 33: Judgement

Night; after the Sunbreeze Event

It was strange, really. When I first met her, I felt that she was just a girl who seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I knew deep down there was a strong sense of protection from me towards this girl then, but I simply brushed it off as nothing more than hormones. Even the most stone cold of men have that one weak spot in their hearts for a beautiful girl. Obviously that wasn't the case with me. I could easily feel that way about anyone, so long as they aren't complete pricks... I'd like to think so, anyway. 

No, this went even deeper than that. For whatever reason, I didn't know it at the time. It's funny, really. How could you forget a childhood friend in a few years? Someone that you cared for so much so, that your body and mind instinctively knew to protect her from harm after that moment of oblivious reunion. And the fact that it all came back to me so suddenly after the encounter with the so called 'Kahlee'. Perhaps that woman had something to do with it all along. She was, after all, the one who stripped me of my childhood friend so long ago. 

Well, it didn't matter so much anymore. She's here now. With me. 

And she's mine.

Stiff sat on his bed looking out through his dorm's window at the night sky. The bright burning stars emblazoned onto the blanket of night that swept over Vana'diel twinkled one after the other. Hearing the shifting of Okina in her sheets on the bed opposite to his, Stiff turned and watched her sleep for a moment. She laid the back of her hand on her pillow with her head to the side next to it, sound asleep. She was too cute. 

"I'm tired, Stiffy," she had suddenly told him after the fireworks display earlier that night in Ru'lude Gardens. "Can we go back to headquarters, headquarters?" She had asked with a flushed and drowsy face.

Her exhaustion had been sudden despite her earlier upbeat enthusiasm, and she had been rather silent since their drawn out kiss. But Stiff took that as a sign of shyness. He was sure it was her first kiss, just as it was his. Maybe she had felt something more... something from their past, maybe. He would have to tell her soon. 

Pursing his lips and remembering the taste of hers against his as he watched her sleep, he stood up and went over to her bed. Taking a gentle hold of her hand that was resting against the pillow, he held it for a second and ran his thumb along her smooth palm before tucking it under the sheets and placing it to her side. Pulling the blanket up to her chin, he gave a light smirk as she breathed out contently with a small groan. 

He didn't know what time it was, but he felt it was late enough that anyone still outside was probably from the festival committee and packing things up. Making his way out of the dorm hallway and into the Brigade's common room, he saw there was nobody there. Whoever hadn't been out on a mission had most likely drank themselves to sleep, if not crashed of exhaustion from the festival like Okina had. 

Taking a seat on one of the large settees, Stiff unleashed his mind from his head and let it run loose. There was one thing that had been bothering him since the battle against Warlord Jagodek and his orcs. Looking back on it, his mind settled on the image of Okina laying unconscious for days on her bed. It was due to her magicite, but... the careless decision had come from Vincent. 

Vincent had accepted Okina into the Brigade's ranks, but did he simply do it to use her power? Did he not think of the after effects it would cause her? He seemed well aware from what Stiff could wager. Maybe he just didn't care. That really bothered him. When you actually thought about it, the Brigade had pretty much used Okina as the weapon she had been labeled. 

Stiff felt his fingers had been clutching the edge of the settee's arm rest. Releasing his grip on it, he let out a deep sigh and sunk himself aback. 

After sitting there for a few more seconds, the flipping of pages coming from Vincent's office caught his attention. Getting up off his seat, he crept towards the office and stopped at the door before peering in. 

Claire had been busy sifting through many neatly-filed papers and flinging them about in her curt manner before asking, "What do you need?" In an indifferent tone. Her eyes remained locked on the pages in her hands. 

"Uh... well," Stiff cleared his throat, walking into the office and shutting the door. "Hey, Clai- I mean, ma'am... there's something that's been bothering me for a while now," he muttered as he rubbed the back of his neck, almost forgetting she was running the place in Vincent's absence. 

Claire flipped another page and continued scanning the text without looking up. "If this is about the decision involving the members of the mission Vincent is leading, I wasn't even involved. I'd have gone myself if he would let me," she said abruptly. 

"Well, no, but it is about Vincent," Stiff replied. 

This brought Claire to raise a brow and finally take her eyes off of the pages in her hand and up at Stiff. But he was sure if she could that she would have one eye pointed at him and another at the pages. Kind of funny to think about it, but this wasn't the time for that. "Okay?"

Clearing his throat, Stiff continued once again. "Well, it's about the battle back  at West Ronfaure, you know, where we fought all those orcs." He paused for a moment, but then went on with a firmer tone. "I wanna know why Vincent had Okina use the power of her magicite, and why he was so careless about it. What if something had happened to her besides what actually did? I mean, wasn't our main objective to retrieve her so that nobody could use her as a weapon? Isn't that what we practically did!?" He flung his questions at Claire, who now sat upright looking at him in an almost surprised state. Stiff hadn't realized that he was yelling now. 

"Sorry," he quickly apologized. "I was just wondering, is all." 

Claire sighed and set her papers down. "Believe me, you aren't the only one who was wondering. It took a while to figure him out, but here's what I know," she began, swaying her head to one side to move some of her long silky black strands of hair away from her face. 

"Whether Vincent and Moku had known or not, there is a substantial limit to using the magicite's power. Okina in particular had used up so much of its power, that it rendered her unconscious and the energy coursing through her magicite nearly emptied. Now, a magicite will regain its energy overtime, but it is in no way a quick process. Reports say some magicite could even take up to years for the full restoration of their power," She said.  "Do you see where this is going now?"

Stiff stood there, blinking, before the thought suddenly hit him. "Of course... Vincent hadn't been putting her in danger. He had been protecting her! By using up the power of her magicite until it was nearly empty, that would render her a useless "weapon" by the enemy," he nodded, slapping himself on the forehead. "No wonder they stopped going after her. Why couldn't I see it before?"

Claire gave a light smile and just barely nodded. "Remember Stiff, Vincent isn't a man to be underestimated. He is a genius. It seems everything he does affects the outcome of the situation one way or the other. He's been like that since I first met him," she murmured distantly, looking at nothing in particular. 

"Heh, you guys must be close!" Stiff grinned as he leaned over to look at her. "I mean, he trusted you to lead this joint while he was away. That's gotta say something."

Claire shot a sharp glare at him. "Are you implying that our leader is playing favorites with me?" 

Stiff quickly backed up and held his hands up, giving a nervous chuckle. "N-no! Not at all! I was just uh... heading out the door!" He exclaimed, quickly grabbing the door handle and fumbling with it before swinging the door open and stumbling out, turning towards Claire with a forced smile as the door shut. 

Crossing her arms and turning to the side once she was alone again in the office, Claire chuckled under her breath and murmured to herself, "You just take care of your Okina, you hear?" 

"Boy, he really is kind of cool, isn't he?" Stiff thought to himself with a satisfied grin as he walked down the hall. He was referring to Vincent, of course. If anything, he was beginning to feel proud for having a leader like him. It was no wonder why so many of the Brigade's members looked up to him. I mean, hell, even a hard a*s like Veronaut sucked up to him. 

"WHOA!" Stiff suddenly skidded to a halt. Flint stood before him. "Y-Your face!" He pointed.

Flint stood there with an emotionless gaze at Stiff, holding a sheet of conjured up ice to his own face. What had shocked Stiff so was the strange balloon-shape Flint's face had suddenly taken up. 

Heh, um... I guess that's what your face is supposed to look like after a herd of Terror Torros stomp all over it... sure hope the swelling goes down. I'd hate to see Annie and Mel right about now. 

Flint just turned his back to Stiff and went off into the nurse's quarters, snorting as he attempted to breathe through his swollen nose while keeping the sheet of ice pressed against his face. 

"Yikes. Anyway, I'd better head to bed," Stiff muttered to himself. "The others should be coming back tomorrow... I sure hope Vincent's got plans for us."

******

Earlier that day, back in the fight at Ro'Maeve

His whole body was pulsing with pain. He couldn't put his mind on what it was, but it felt as if the emptiness was seeping in through his pores and slowly degrading his body from the inside out. The pain was truly unbearable. But even still, the enemy would only ever manage to spur a groan from the Brigadier leader's lips despite the intense torture. 

"My, how impressive," The Descent leader walked a bit past Vincent, who's arms were strung aback by the tendrils of emptiness that bound him so. "Not a single scream. What was that name you derived many a year ago that you stuck with for a time? Ah, yes. The Silent Death," he chuckled. "Fascinating. The name truly precedes you, Vincent." 

Vincent gritted his teeth behind closed lips, the warm blood beginning to trickle over his face and eyes. It was no use. No matter how hard he struggled against the emptiness seeping into him, he couldn't break his body free of its grasp. To think it could even overpower his blood of demon origin. His body began to feel like a cold, painful slab of rock. He couldn't move it whatsoever. All he could feel was the pain and the warm blood coming out of his body. Still, though he could move his head and speak, he would not say a thing or so much as groan when the pain was truly great that it forced the sound out of him. He looked past the blurring image of the Descent leader looking down at him and over at Draven and Veronaut, who were suspended in midair by the same emptiness that bound his knees to the floor and his arms spread apart, holding him upright. A small puddle of blood had begun to form under him.  

Draven and Veronaut didn't appear tortured like he was. They were merely being held in place, forced to watch their leader bleed like so. 

For the most part, Veronaut was going berserk and attempting with all his might to break free of the emptiness' grasp around his body. It was a valiant effort; his swinging and kicking breaking off pieces of cermet he was held against, but it was ultimately no use. 

"I'm gonna kill you! I'm gonna f*****g KILL you!" He screamed as loud as his lungs would allow. He was like a caged animal. It seemed neither Daan nor Gazo wanted to get near him at this point. They just stood back and grinned at each other with much delight. 

Draven couldn't stand it anymore. This almost brotherly figure before him that was brought down to his knees before the enemy, tortured senselessly and forced to bleed spurred a bad memory in the deep recesses of his mind. Yes, the image of his family being tortured in a similarly painful manner. The same exact situation. He could do nothing but watch. "Give in..." He uttered in quick breaths. 

"JUST GIVE IN ALREADY!" He screamed over Veronaut's angry shouts. Even though the person before him being tortured was Vincent; the Brigade's strong leader, the image before him was of his family. "Just give in! Do what they say and live! You don't have to suffer anymore! STOP TRYING TO RESIST!"

"You crazy!?" Veronaut interrupted him. "The hell's gotten into you?"

The Descent members laughed coldly at Draven's repressed display. 

The hooded figure loomed over Vincent once more, holding out his own hand that began to seep out more emptiness. There was seldom any emotion in his malevolent voice, as always. "Last chance, Vincent. Why not heed your pupil's words and rejoice? I will not ask you again." 

Vincent simply looked up at the Descent leader's face, the cast shadow over it unable to hide those glowing green and slit eyes. Those all too familiar eyes. He didn't say a single word, and simply looked back into those eyes, ignoring Draven's pleas. 

The Descent leader clenched his fist, dispersing the emptiness coming from within his palm. He didn't know what it was, but something about the way Vincent looked at him really angered him in a way that caused his face to feel as if it were boiling. He could feel his fingers cracking under his own fist. "How dare you," He whispered through clenched teeth. "How dare you look at me like that," he followed in a louder tone. "You have no right to look at me in such a way!" 

He was growling, somehow angered simply by the way Vincent looked at him. 

Yes, it was those cold, dark eyes of Vincent's that spelled death upon looking at you in some way. Despite his bloodied and bruised face, those eyes of his still screamed death at the Descent leader. It angered him so much that the man could almost laugh at the fact that such a trifling thing could achieve a feat like that. 

The hooded man put a hand to his own face, lowering his head a moment as he began to chuckle. But just then, he threw his hand away from his face and slapped it across Vincent's as he growled in a voice that echoed through the entire amphitheater, "You're the one cowering before me! You're the worm that is bound by my darkness! It is over for you, demon! I not only have power over YOU, but ALL of Vana'diel!" 

A solid stream of emptiness burst through his hand as he thrust it forward toward's the bound Vincent, running the stream straight through the Brigadier leader's chest and out his back. With a twist and turn, he yanked the stream back out hard, causing Vincent to let out another grunt, only this one being the loudest of them all. The pain was obviously otherworldly to have caused Vincent to express pain like so.

Vincent's head hung low for a moment as blood seeped out of his chest. It was strange, even though there was no sign of physical injury, the pain and the blood was all there. The emptiness was truly a curious thing. Blood began to trickle down the corner of the Brigade general's lips, though he was still alive. 

"Why..." Draven growled under his breath. "Why won't you give in?" His mind continued to relapse. 

A few moments passed. The Descent leader had turned his back to recollect his stature and tone. It wasn't every day that people saw such a man riled by another. Daan and Gazo stared in curiosity, as well as Kyrie who remained on the upper steps of the amphitheater's blocked off entrance. 

"Draven," Vincent began, although kept his head hung low as he addressed his pupil.

Blood dripped to the floor each time he opened his mouth to speak. "Do you remember what I told you before? I told you that a hard head would get you nowhere." 

Draven had suddenly stopped squirming and widened his eyes as the image of the man with the great sword training him when he was a child began to speak to him. "Y.. You said that a hard head... would get me nowhere. That I would just get beat harder and harder each time..." 

"Heh," Vincent smirked, raising his head and shooting a glance at the young thief. "I understand now. Listen, Draven. You just forget what I said then. That is your new lesson. Vana'diel will never give in. Is that understood?"  

Draven's eyes began to show a little reprieve as the memories began to push themselves back into his mind. "What...?"

"I guess it's all up to them now," Vincent thought as he shut his eyes, apprehending what was to happen next as his body finally succumbed to its slow death. "Good luck, Moku."

Explosions began to go off in every corner of the amphitheater. Well, they appeared to be explosions at first. They were in fact ancient magic being cast in rapid succession across the area. The emptiness binding Vincent receded if only by a bit as fire, ice, water, thunder, wind, earth, all of the elements caused quite a display of hell for the Descent and forced them to take cover. 

Amid the explosion, a dark circular portal stretched the air open and for a split second, the familiar shape of a tarutaru flickered towards Vincent, stripping him from the grasp of the emptiness and disappearing. Just as quickly, the taru's shape flickered towards Draven and Veronaut with the same form of magic and teleported them out of the elemental chaos before the two even had a chance to react. 

"No!" Kyrie bit her lower lip hard as she took cover and witnessed the last split second of the figure teleporting the Brigadiers out. Blood trickled down her lip as she clenched her fists. She had meant to take Vincent's body right after his demise. Once again, she had failed. 

The Next Morning

Stiff awoke from his sleep to the sound and pricking of the chocobo alarm on the counter beside his bed that would extend a plank where a baby chocobo standing at the end would peck at his face with each "Kweh!" until he woke up. Shutting it off, he tossed and turned drowsily until he sat up, stretching and yawning. 

Looking over at Okina's bed, he saw from the indication of the rolled up and empty sheets that she had woken up early. 

"Huh, that's a first," he blinked as he stood up and rubbed his stiff neck. "She must be getting breakfast early." He thought for a second before rubbing his hands together with a grin. "Hehe, it'd be so cute if she woke up to make both of us breakfast... only one way to find out!" He sneered as he made his way out of his dorm room and down the hall. 

But he didn't walk out to the smell of breakfast. In fact, it smelled rather irony. Kind of like blood. As he walked into the linkshell common room, he could see most if not all Brigade members gathered around with the most solemn looks on their faces. The air had suddenly gotten so heavy. 

Stiff's steps slowed as he walked up to the group, the eager look on his face leaving him. He spotted Okina standing behind the settee and pursed his lips as he stopped beside her. "Okina...? What's going on?" He whispered. 

She turned to him slowly, keeping her head low but looking up at him with an empty gaze. Her eyes were a bit reddened and glazed, sort of like how they'd get when you fight back tears for a time. 

"Stiffy... it's Vincent... it's Vincent... he's... he's.." Okina whispered, trying hard not to make her voice crack. 

Stiff's face slowly met a grim expression as he looked back into her eyes, his heart sinking.

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Continued in Chapter 34: Heroes