[RP] Final Fantasy XIII: The Butterfly Effect.

Everything was ready....

Connor really was'nt sure why he had this sudden inspiration to help the L'cie. but that really was'nt the problem at the moment. The problem was that Connor was blatantly terrified. In an attempt to calm himself. he recited what he had packed.

"Potions..check....remedys....check.....an elixir...check...and some Knives..." He gulped "check..."

HE had everything ready. but he was missing something. Connor searched the house for anything else to take along. whn his eyes fell upon a carefully carven wooden staff. He walked over and bent down to retrive it. It was beatiful. A slender rod leading up to Beautiful Metal MEdialion perched on top.

"ill take this too....it reminds me of home.."

Connor gabbed the Staff and Slung the bag over his shoulder. He walked out of his house and Ran down to the Purge train station. He stopped dead short.

"oh my god...this place is jam packed..."

Connor eyed the Area silently for a while and spotted a possible opening.
A broken door. It was bent and half open.

"This isy only chance!" connor thought Trying his best not to Faint or vomit. He carfully Sprinted over to the door and glanced around him. No one was paying attention to him. He gulped and Tugged at the Door. With enough strength he managed to Pull it out a little bit. He slipped in side un noticed.

He sat down in a corner and Waited with baited breath untill someone announced This trains depature. a little while later A calm and cool voice announced

"Passengers! we are heading to Hanging edge!!"

Connor Realsed his breath and stood up. He walked up to the door and pushed it open. He stared out the door. Watching Cocoon get father and father away. He kept watching for a while. He then looked how far they were away from the ground. He couldnt be caught. so he had to jump. It was is only option. He waited for the Train to get a reasonable level. He waited untill he could spot small things.

He eyed the ground warily He coud arely see small things. He waited and Watched Soliders fight. None of them noticed the train.
"
Probably still to high up" Connor thought. He closd his eyes ad Remembed his home. This May be the last time he would ever know it. He looked out again. Then train to connor's Shock was reaching ground fast. Connor Gulped and steped to the open door. He stared at the people. He waited till the Train was far away from the people. Connor Gripped his taff Closed his eyes and Jumped.

Everything seemed to slow down. Nothing seemed to move. But Connor knew he was falling. His clothes whipped around him and His grip tightend on the staff. and Before Connor Could register hit He slammed into the ground.


Connor gasped in pain as his knees buckled and his upper body Collided with the ground. He arm grazed a rock and left a searing gash there. The fall had totally winded him. his mind ad gone fuzzy and he couldnt make anything out. He tried to stand but his legs hurt too much. He vision started to fade and he easily gave into the Blissful Oblivion.

Connor whished he could just be found.
 
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Stephen charged up the purge train, all he could think about was stopping the train, as he breached the second to last car he was met by three PSIcom guards, grabbing the first one by the throat, he spun him around, keeping a firm grip on the guards throat with his right hand, and using his left to take the guards weapon, he aimed the gun and emptied the clip into the two guards up ahead of him, before planting his foot in the back of the gripped guards knee, dropping his head to the height of Stephen's abdomen.

with a quick but powerful twist, Stephen snapped the Guards neck, he looked around the car at the civillians who were all sat down, many different expressions looked back at him. Stephen Tore the Hooded robe from his 6 foot 4 muscular figure and looked around, his clothes predominantly leather, made from the hides of Behamoth's Stephen believed, his right arm sat housed in a full Metal Gauntlet that ran up to his Elbow, then a joint with another metal plate, then metal plating between his elbow and shoulder, the full metal sleeve was both Sturdy and kept his mobility.

A Small metal plate covered his Sternum and the most part of his chest, the collar of his Top was fur lined. His legs were covered in the same Behemoth skin Leather as his torso, but it had been died blue, with boots with metal plating on the tops that ran up to his knee, with a similar styled metal plate as his Right Elbow had. The Finger tips of his Gauntlets were sharpened and resembled those of Dragon claws, his face held a blank expression and was unshaven.

as he took to walking up the train, he was glancing from passenger to passenger, finally reaching the top and looking back at them as he placed his hand on the door handle to the final cart "Don't worry, I'm on your side" he announced back to the passengers.
 
There were an appalling number of PSICOM corpses on the bridges, Elicia noted with disgust, as she leapt from level to level, making her way back to where she had started; the highest level of the Hanging Edge. Of course, a large majority of those casualties were likely due to that Fal'Cie, but that really was no excuse. PSICOM were easily the most incompetent soldiers she had ever had the misfortune of commanding, and they also had the most advanced technology. Perhaps re-organizing the military was in order...civilian casualties in a Purge were supposed to outnumber the military casualties, not the other way around.

She could sort that out when all the Fal'Cie were dead. There would probably be no need for a military at that point anyway. But for now, she had more important matters to attend to. She knelt beside a PSICOM soldier, removed his communicator, and tapped into a private frequency.

"Brigadier General Wisel." Elicia was not one for those ridiculous code signals soldiers used when they spoke over these things. She knew that her intended recipient would hear the message anyway, so why bother asking for a response? If she was where she was supposed to be, Elicia would be very surprised indeed...not to mention rather disappointed. "The Fal'Cie is dead. Since you're here, your forces are to assist with the cleanup. Round-up the survivors on the trains and take them into protective custody until they can be relocated. Crush any and all resistance. No prisoners. I want them all dead." she stressed this last part. Given the choice, Wisel would either place them all under arrest, or leave them to fight again. She would not tolerate either. She wasn't running a democracy: whether they were high-ranking Cocoon officials or civilians, people would do as they were told. The rebels had defied her command to leave quietly, so they would be killed.

"You and I shall be attending to the matter of the l'Cie hiding amongst them, so organize your forces as you see fit. We can discuss your questionable interpretation of my previous orders at a later date. We'll rendezvous on the highest level. Now, get down here." she cut the transmission, then threw the communicator back down to land beside it's original owner. Whilst such devices were useful, she was not particularly fond of the things.

Of course, she'd overlook Wisel's violation of orders...again. After all, she did not explicitly say that they were not allowed in the area. The woman seemed to have an innate grasp of what Elicia wanted of her, which was one of the main reasons why she was still alive. The day they had that discussion would be a bad one, for both of them. Elicia disliked killing competent officers, but she liked leaving disobedient ones alive even less.

She paused, then bent down a second time over the corpse, removing it's sidearm. For some reason, the rebels hardly ever stole those. She placed the pistol in her empty holster, and then glanced upwards. The top level was not too far off. She resumed her climb, wondering briefly how much resistance there had been. It was entirely possible that the Purge trains had been completely overrun by resistance fighters. She hoped that wasn't the case - it would be quite annoying if she had to destroy the Purge trains.
 
From the outside there were sounds of crashing and burning - literally. Magical attacks being fired, and even the random acts of destroying parts of the Hanging Edge. Wherever Fal’Cie and the Sanctum are both present, or even individually accounted for, there is always going to be some kind of violence emerge. This is what Sakiko had always had feared during those six years of training with her Uncle Larry - not really uncle, but close enough to her father to be like an uncle. Back at Bodhum, Sakiko could literally picture the soldiers with their guns rounding up innocent civilians to claim that they were ‘infected’, and that this was for the better of Cocoon.

“Better for Cocoon my ass,” Words dripped out Sakiko’s mouth as she sat amongst several other people. The one thing that Sakiko had in common with these people was that they all were taken against their will, and with the sake of Cocoon, the Sanctum can’t afford any threats that may or may not put them at risk of the true nature of their name. Sakiko had enough.

Usually this girl was cheerful, and rather optimistic, but when the basic human rights are taken away from some punks who think their better than anyone else. Well, Sakiko would definitely show them. With intentions set on taking out that guard within the next moment, Sakiko waited for the guard to have his back turned, and that is when she would strike.

In the next minute or so, the guard was facing the cockpit, and Sakiko knew this would be her chance. By quickly standing up, she dashed towards him, beginning by a right to left foot sprint, then followed by a leap off her right foot Sakiko did a double front-flip in the air, only to deliver a vertical, axe-kick downward on the guard’s neck, which knocked him unconscious. With the guard un conscious, Sakiko saw a switch slightly to her left. It had the same faint, cerulean glow as the locks. By pushing the switch down, the glow ceased to exist, and now each passenger of this hell ride were now able to freely move their arms.

“well, now that’s out of the way, only one more matter to attend to..” In her mind, she spoke those words, but in reality, Sakiko carefully glanced at the guard, and to her surprise this train was being run via computer-based technology. So, in realist terms, Sakiko knocked out the only person who knew how to drive a train of this caliber.

“Yup, we’re doomed,” Her words filled with the same amount of hope that she was feeling right now, but that was until on passenger spoke up.

“Umm, miss. I know how to drive this train,” Standing forward, the man’s voice was deep, but not too deep. There was a richness to it, and as it did, so was his appearance. This man was just as hanswome as his hair was. Black , and long, it was tied into a ponytail. Eyes of emerald shade, and slim figure to go with his white tank top, and blue jeans.

“Call me Sakiko, and if you can save us all, then we owe you our lives…literally.”

It was in that moment, the future of Sakiko, and the other passengers were solely based on this man’s driving skills.
 
The sliding doors to the bridge parted. The occupants in the bridge hastily saluted as Wisel emerged, briskly walking up to the central podium. It followed by some muttering from among the ranks as she passed some of them.
"The General doesn't look at ease..."
"I know, is something troubling her? She's been like this for a while now..."
Standing by a control panel, she ran her left ring finger over a glowing blue circle on the panel, which seemlessly conjured up a 60-inch holographic screen.

"The crisis in the Hanging Edge has intensified," she announced in a calm demeanour, determined not to display the fact that she was uneased at the order she had previously received via her antenna, "as you have all been informed, the Wide Area Response Brigade is normally prohibited from entering certain areas of Cocoon especially in circumstances such as this. This is the jurisdiction of PSICOM, and no other. However, they have proven themselves to be inept when handling rebels."
Her finger moved across the quietly buzzing holographic screen and the content on the screen immediately transformed into a map of the nearby area - the area of the Hanging Edge and Lake Bresha, the area beneath it clearly marked.
"We are changing course. We are to make the Hanging Edge our next destination."

This inspired looks of confusion from the contingency. As far as they were concerned, PSICOM had rarely ever proven themselves to be inept. Why was the Cavalry about to intervene when the Hanging Edge had always been a restricted area for them?
"General! We're not helping PSICOM with the Purge are we? Please don't say you just agreed to that!" came a frantic voice from one of the troopers.
"I would never help out with the Purge. I would never allow innocents to be denied their rights and cast away into a hellish world below where they can expect nothing but death. PSICOM does not earn our respect, and neither do the Fal'Cie who have instigated this. Rebels have apparently taken gallant resistance against PSICOM and I can only sympathise with them. We have been issued orders to stand in and suppress the rebellion..."
She was met with tense, apprehensive looks on the troopers' faces. Surely, they were not being made to kill rebels were they...?

"I will personally head down to the Hanging Edge to fulfil my main objective for this mission, and that is to locate any L'Cies that have been left behind by the Fal'Cies that have been present. I want a battalion quickly mobilised to meet up with the survivors and guard them until they can be relocated. And I swear to The Maker that if any innocents are needlessly harmed by any of you, you'll be damned. Guard them until PSICOM can get back on its feet to take over from there. It pains me to partake in this irreprehensibly evil government operation, but nevertheless I am not putting us all in jeopardy. As for any armed resistance from rebels, round them up. Keep them isolated and disarm them all. If you can, try and reason with them that resistance against the Cocoon government is fatal and foolish. They cannot hope to win this. Tell them that resistance will only earn them a far more painful death. Commander, prepare to launch the Narshe and the Pravoka from the hangar bay."

Rest assured, she thought to herself, that despite the absolute orders that were given to her, she was not prepared to let innocents and rebels die for a cause that she herself strongly sympathised with. Who really gave a damn what the disguised Primarch desired? The Primarch was to her a mere de-facto head of state. The real rulers were the Fal'Cie deep within Edenhall at the heart of the Sanctum. She convinced herself that the Primarch herself had few executive powers herself; she was no more than a human executing commands from the Fal'Cie themselves. Yet still she could do nothing to prevent PSICOM from mercilessly killing off rebellion without the Cavalry being villified by the rest of the Sanctum military. All she could do now was to minimalise the deaths in the Hanging Edge and protect the innocents as long as possible. As for any L'Cies that were left behind and newly branded, she would track them down and extend her hand of friendship to them. For Cocoon to be finally liberated, she would need their help in usurping the Fal'Cie once and for all...
 
Hale had been expecting the brutality, yes. But the elbow to the face still hurt and shocked him, making him stagger back. However, the smile was never quite lost on his lightly tanned face. Most would have keeled over, or at least sat down quietly, but not Hale. No. He couldn't show weakness; wouldn't show weakness.

Holding the knife so tight that the handle carved raw grooves into the flesh of his palm, he kept eye contact with the man who had ordered him around then assaulted him. He wouldn't be beaten by such a petty little man, as Hale thought of him. It didn't cross his mind that David had been born and bred that way; trained that way. All he was was an obstacle to Hale. An ambitiousless obstacle. And that made it easier to dismiss him as a casualty of war if he died.

However, he didn't have the chance to start a battle he was bound to lose with the trained soldier, because a grating screech made him wince as the train ground to a stop. He staggered again as a tipping sensation overcame him, only just remaining standing against the oppressive natural force trying to bring him to his knees.

The bottom carriage of the train was hanging from the tracks of the Hanging Edge, where resistance members and Sanctum alike battled it out, aerial mechanics firing bullets indiscriminately downwards, some soldiers caught in their own crossfire, and more often still, they totally missed. What was doubtlessly a meticulously planned operation had descended into utter chaos in the blink of an eye.

As the train teetered between plummet and balance, the eyes of the frightened deportees looked to Stephen, the large man who had imposed an unsteady calm in this terrifyingly real situation. A few doors had been ripped off, as well as the roof of the train itself, and it was immediately apparent that escape was the only option. The train was going to fall. Whether in five minutes or five hours was inconsequential; it was going to fall.

Taking advantage of the chaos, Hale slipped through one of the train's unplanned cavities, dropping into a crouched position on the tracks as the winds from the robotics zooming past sounded, eerily in tandem for such a vicious purpose.

And then the Fal'cie passed, another blur in hot pursuit. He could not even tell anything about the second figure, but the Fal'cie was unmissable. Immense in height, length and girth alike, its passing generated a wind so strong that Hale winced as dust and rust were blown from the train tracks, the miniature gale ruffling his hair.

If a Fal'cie was running wild around here, it was even less safe than Hale's first impression of this wasteland had given him. He had to find something other than a measly little switch-blade to defend himself with.

Glancing downwards, he saw a soldier hanging out of the opening he had just exited from. The bottom half of his helmet was torn away, revealing a catastrophic mess of blood, sinew and bone where his lips and jaws had once existed. A pistol was clasped in his hand- a futile attempt at defending against an unstoppable crash.

Prying the gun out of the Sanctum grunt's hands, he noted that rigor mortis had already set in. He couldn't help a small chuckle escaping his lips at the morbid observation. Government pawns really did have less life than the masses. How ironic.

He had nowhere to put the gun, so he just held the surprisingly heavy weapon in his hands, weighing it over before walking down the tracks, his footfalls barely even audible over the persisting conflict, and the screams of the dying and the terrified.
 
Weighing up his options, this situation wasn't going to calm itself down any time soon, deciding that with all going on this place was slowly becoming a lost cause, at least for one man he delivered a sharp kick to the rebel and lunged after him. Holding him up and maintaining his gun on the rebel's head he was about to pull the trigger when he saw someone outside, hanging from the window, they looked female but before he could identify her she was gone and was soon followed by a huge sword penetrating the top of the carriage. With a heightened level of danger David threw the rebel aside, for now the civilians took priority, as he was about to get them calm again the train began to rock violently and was soon followed by an even more violent crash, hurling him from the train.

The fall, while hard was not enough to render him unconcious as he rose to his feet and dusted himself off, then he looked to the train, it was quite a ways off and out of his reach. While it was his duty to see to their safe departure it was impossible for him to do so, there were other units in the area who could deal with them so for now he would simply have to press onward to discover what had happened, especially what happened to force the train to a halt, who was the owner of that sword and who was the woman who was seemingly in conflict with the sword bearer?

For now he just had to keep walking, fish out survivors and if possible get them purged himself before returning to a superior officer, he was in foreign country now so he had to keep his wits about him, he wasn't in Bodhum anymore. Walking for a short part he soon came into contact with an armed conflict, PSICOM forces were engaging the rebels. Dashing forward and getting under a barricade he and the remaining two officers would have to deal with the far larger rebel forces.

Looking over at these two soldiers, one had taken a shot to the head which broke off part of his armour, while it still cut him it was a minor graze, the other was unharmed but seemed low in morale, the way things were going both would die. "You two, I thought that it was the duty of PSICOM to defend cocoon against purge trash, are you going to let yourself be beaten by street kids that seek to harm cocoon? Are you soldiers or not?" While this seemed to rally the scarred man, the unmotivated man was disinclined to continue. "Fine... If you're both too weak to do your duty i'll take these bastards down myself, since you two seem to have no problem endangering the lives of your loved ones, and the rest of cocoon!"

At that he drew his sword and charged the 5 remaining rebels, using his sword as a shield against the bullets while he shot down 3 of them in the advance, leaving two left standing. However, as soon as he approached they both ran off, seeing the tides turned against them. Sheathing his sword he proceeded, not caring as the two PSICOM soldiers followed in his shadow, after that however there were no more rebels in sight, however he did see a familiar blur up ahead over a somewhat larger figure, as he ran forward the blur left the area while David maintained his sprint to investigate what it left behind.
 
The Fal'Cie was dying. Unsurprising, really, after that cursed sword had been thrust straight through him. Peacekeeper, indeed. That woman certainly did have an ironic sense of humour. If anything, she only created more chaos by killing his kind, humanity's benefactors...no, their rightful owners.

He could feel his life slowly draining away. It was inevitable, as she had said. Although he was at peace. He was to be but a distraction, after all. Even as the bitch made her way back, believing her job to be complete, his kin would be creating new l'Cie, with a Focus that would bring humanity back on the proper path. For five centuries, she had plagued his kin, killing them off one-by-one until they numbered but a handful. Soon, she would pay for her crimes. It was just a pity that he would not be around to see it.

Footsteps echoed, faint at first, yet growing steadily louder. Not the woman - no, she was through gloating. Someone else, then? The Fal'Cie weakly lifted his head, the movement taking far more effort than he would have liked, and saw, through quickly darkening vision, a human. Male. In a soldier's uniform. One of her own, then. Here by accident, or to make sure he was, in fact, dead? It did not matter, either way. It would appear that the Maker was giving him his own chance at vengeance. A smile creased those handsome features, and the Fal'Cie raised his arm, gathering the last of his energies.

"Yes...you shall be...my legacy. Do not let me down."

The last of his strength left him, entering the human, who froze in shock as his newfound strength - and Focus - unveiled itself before him. His own l'Cie. He had never actually taken a human before, even though he had need of one several times in the past. Fitting, that he should take one when there was no longer any need. The smile remained on his face, even as the world slowly darkened around him, before oblivion finally swallowed him.

----

Elicia watched from the edge of the bridge as the aircraft landed on the opposite end, on the more stable section. She turned away as the Brigadier General stepped out of it. She both heard and felt her approach, and held up a hand after a few moments, still facing away from her, looking over the Hanging Edge, which was still on fire in a few places, although what remained of most of the settlements and vehicles were little more than smoking, charred wreckages. Most of the bridges were destroyed or on the verge of collapse and, everywhere she looked, the ground was littered with PSICOM soldier corpses. Worthless morons. Humanity as better off without them, as far as she was concerned. Really, she was all Cocoon needed, all it had ever needed. After all, nobody else was capable of killing Fal'Cie, their enemy. Only she. Soon, the entire world would realise that. Starting with this one stubborn woman.

"That is close enough, Brigadier General." Elicia said, as the footsteps grew louder, indicating that she was just behind her. "Before we get down to business, I have a question for you. Tell me, what did you hope to accomplish by coming so close to the Purge site, when you knew you were forbidden to enter? I suggest you answer me truthfully. Hold nothing back. To say that your life hangs in the balance is a very dramatic statement to make, but, even so..." one hand moved to the sheathed Peackeeper, fingers drumming restlessly on the hilt.

She would gauge the woman's strength of character first. She had defied her several times in the past, but this could indicate stupidity as much as it could bravery. Elicia had never bothered to check, for she had had other, far more pressing concerns at the time, and things had worked out far better than she had anticipated as a result in any case, and one did not punish intuitive thinking if it proved to be a help. However, the Brigadier General had attracted her interest with this latest move - one she had anticipated, but not really expected until she had confirmed it but moments ago - and could be a potentially valuable tool...provided she knew when to fall in line, of course. If she proved to be a liability, Elicia would kill her, here and now...along with her entire squad. It would be a shame to waste such good soldiers, but there were always more humans to take their place.
 
As the train Screeched to a halt, Stephen slammed into the door to the last carriage, h noted a boy jumping off the train, and thus he followed suit. jumping from the train, Stephen landed and rolled forwards, he looked at the lad, it was the one who had ran past him on the train.

Stephen watched as he ripped a gun from the hand of a dead soldier, and then walk away. "Hey Kid, It's not a good idea to go around this place alone" Stephen shouted to the boy as he ran after him, as he walked he reached down the side of his left metal boot and pulled out his bladed lance, "not safe to walk this place alone, the name is Stephen Hownam, and what brings a kid like you to a hell hole like this?" Stephen asked politely.
 
The past few moments had happened in a flash.

The other soldier on the train had been dealing with a restless civilian when suddenyl something enormous had come crashing through the roof of the carriage. The train had screeched to a halt and Alex had barely been able to keep his balance. The soldier who had been sorting out a civilian had jumped, or, more likely, been thrown fromt he carriage as it had jerked suddenly. Another man had then leapt from the train to follow him.

He knew that according to his orders he was meant to stay and guard the passengers, but as he had already been on the verge of deciding to give up on this assignment because of how badly it sat with him, he knew what he was going to do. Unaware of exactly what was going on, he followed the other soldier off of the train, but by the time he saw him again, he was sprinting off into the distance, leaving two PSICOM officers standing in the middle of a group of dead rebels. Looking around Alexander made a decision,

"You two, follow me, we're going to find out what's made him head off in such a hurry."

With that Alex and the two other PSICOM officers set after the running man as quickly as possible in an attempt to catch up to him and find out what he was doing before they all got caught up to by a higher up member of PSICOM and punished for ignoring such an important order...
 
Fire cackled across one of the numerous bridges in The Hanging Edge, while pieces of bent and bruised metal, flung across the same area without so much as a pattern, glistened in the eerie greenish light. The ancient battleground of the War of Transgression, an area that no civilian was allowed to traverse across, where time was suspended, illuminated with the sounds and colors of war. Gunfire pulsed across the field. Screams echoed in the empty spaces.

This was The Purge.

Renton lay sprawled next to some of the debris from the crashed Purge train. Other citizens of Cocoon that miraculously survived the crash began stirring, dazed, wondering exactly where they were. The impact of the train on the bridge unlocked the wrist restraints that kept the Purge victims restrained. Most abandoned the white robes that were forced upon them.

Renton rolled over onto his back, releasing a slight “Ouch!” His bones ached. His muscles twitched. He felt like he got raped by a bus that was going full-speed. Of course, that was obvious symptoms of a boy-gets-thrown-out-of-crashed-train-and-survives. Renton’s eyes opened. His vision slowly began to un-blur as his body attempted to catch itself up from the chaos that just occurred.

“…How did I get here - Oh. Wait.” A face of confusion suddenly turned to one of annoyance as the boy remembered exactly how he ended up on the ground, with every part of his body hurting. The idiot who thought he was able to work a Purge train. Granted, it was awesome of him to attack the PSICOM soldiers and scream about revolting and freedom and what not…but he still crashed the damn train. And his blathering over the intercom…practically broadcasting his mistakes…was a bit much. Renton raised himself off the ground, and was immediately met with the image of the crashed Purge train. It wasn’t in too bad of a shape. Inoperable, turned on its side, and now a pile of junk, yes - but maybe more people survived. With a sigh, he jumped (..or, at least some form of a jump) onto his feet. He needed to get back to his original goal - getting to the Pulse Vestige. The one the Sanctum threatened to destroy.

“If they want a L’cie…then they’re going to get a L’cie.”

His back to his ruined transport and goal in mind, he took off down the in-tact part of the bridge. On the horizon he could see the Vestige. It couldn’t be that far away. He quickened his pace to the best his small body could reach. He reached the top of a small incline, ready to continue - but was stopped in his tracks. One of PSICOM’s mechanical beasts, unleashed to clean up any straggling Purged citizens, lay as an obstacle against his progress to the Vestige. And opposite the monster was the idiotic pseudo-pilot that almost killed him.

“Damn it.” Renton cursed in his head. “There’s got to be a way around it. Ah-ha!” Renton’s head pointed straight towards the undercarriage of the mechanical giant, where, due to its giant size, an opening to the other side lay.

“Hey, Crashy McCrash.” Renton yelled, descending the slope to meet up with the man. Now that he was up close, he noticed that he was carrying an extremely odd weapon. But to him, at that point in time, it didn’t matter much. All that mattered was getting under that beast.

“Since you probably don’t have a plan that doesn’t involved crashing or hurting someone else, how about I give you a little tip on how to get around that thing.”

Cracking his knuckles, Renton smirked slightly at the man before taking off, head-first, at the enemy in front of him. Reckless, yes. Dangerous, yes. But Renton had experience in getting through ridiculous circumstances. To him, this mechanical retard was just another way to increase his skill.

The beast changed his view down to Renton, who was still charging at him. It began to move, adjusting its arms into a more advantageous position to swipe down at the Purged citizen. In doing so, the opening - one that went directly under the beast and past a bunch of stacked, ruined cars - became larger. Perfect to Renton. The beast began to attack. Renton dropped himself down to the ground, his heels grazing across the bridge. The arm swooped over Renton’s head, barely missing it, as the boy skidded himself down the slope.

“Damn it, these bridges aren’t as soft as the hills at Bodhum…” He was edging closer to the bottom of the beast. It was probably a good time to fill in the man on what to do.

“Get a move on! I highly doubt this PSICOM dude is going to give you another chance to get around it. Or any breathing room once you do get around it! Just slide!”

Renton’s exclamation ended at the perfect time - just as he slid under the beast. He adjusted his body to try and slow himself down, instead entering into a roll that ended with him crashing into the siding of the bridge. Ouch. But nothing that was as bad as waking up from that crashed train.
 
The next series of events took Jeanne by surprise. Everything happened so fast, and eventually led to the train falling out of the tracks and crashing into the Hanging Edge.

When Jeanne came to, she found herself in the wreckage of the train. Her head was ringing, and her gun-dagger was sticking out of the frame of the train. Slowly getting herself up, she slowly moved to pick up her weapon, before climbing out of the wrecked train. It was then that a pan of worry started to hit her. She did not intend for the train to crash, she only wanted the people, especially her friends to return home, against Sanctum's wishes.

She came across a teenaged kid, who was looking at something. Turning in his direction, Jeanne saw a robot, not overly armed, but potentially dangerous and probably looking to investigate, or kill the survivors. Jeanne grabbed her Gun-Dagger, already in it's Gun-Mode and prepared herself for a fight.
 
OOC: Um MMs post was directed at me dude^^.....The things described in his post such as my crashed train/odd weapon made it so. You can edit it whenever since you drove a different train and should be in a different location XD Sorry for any inconvenience Nocty)

“Hey, Crashy McCrash.”

Rasche saw a kid coming from the crash who looked about around his age. "Um sorry about that."

“Since you probably don’t have a plan that doesn’t involved crashing or hurting someone else, how about I give you a little tip on how to get around that thing.”

Rasche watched as the boy slid under the mecha onto the other side. “Get a move on! I highly doubt this PSICOM dude is going to give you another chance to get around it. Or any breathing room once you do get around it! Just slide!”

Rasche didn't want to use his power too blatantly in front of Cocoon citizens. "Who said anything about running away?!" Rasche smiled as he ran towards the way the same way the boy did only to slide and unleash a lightning spell from below it.

The PSICOM bot had fallen easily and looked as if it had merely short circuited. Picking himself off the ground he smiled. "I think it couldn't handle those moves of yours." He said playfully before gazing back at the train.

The citizens would be fine for now, but Rasche figured that this kid could help him with something that he needed help in. "Um, hi I'm Rasche. He spoke tugging the other boy towards the Pulse Vestige. "You probably don't want to but since I saved you from the purge and all would you mind giving me a hand with something?"

Rasche stopped when he got halfway towards the Pulse Vestige entryway. "My brother...He's been kidnapped by a Fal Cie hidden in this Vestige and I need help to find him." Rasche spoke with a pleading look.
 
(OCC: Time To Fight <--Click)

With the guard knocked out, and now in a cuffs as everyone else on the train were, Sakiko now was mainly focused on if Tierce[Ty-res)(dude piloting the train)] could get everyone - or at least Sakiko -to the Pulse Vestige. With the white robe still on, Sakiko’s true clothing stayed hidden, at least until she felt such an itchy sensation going through her legs. The robe was more than likely, the cause of this itchiness. By unzipping the robe downward, and removing it an arm at a time, Sakiko’s features could now be seen with white shoes, a matching white dress. Eyes blue to the color, and a red ribbon in her hair, tied in a bow.

“That sure does feel better,” Sakiko said as her tone was much more relaxed, but still worry traveled in and out of her thoughts. With no idea of who or what this train will encounter as the train distances further and further to the Pulse Vetige, Sakiko had to be on edge at all times. It was for this reason alone why she had her most trusted item: her dad’s Ninjato, Chain w/ Dagger. She never went anywhere without it. Even when she was among others who were rallied for the Purge, she insisted to keep this weapon with her. Though the PSICOM officers insisted she leave it behind, Sakiko had her way after a good amount of staring. She was now at peace.

Thumb..crash….BAM!

All of a sudden, the train was hit with a medium-sized force. It wasn’t anything to hard, but surely it wasn’t no child’s play. Something definitely was approaching the train, and even made a big dent on the outside. All but two people were frantically reacting to this: Sakiko, and Tierce. With Tierce being the driver at the moment, Sakiko being the only form of protection for any of these people, it was pretty much up to her to see what was going on. So, in a mix of curiosity, and smarts, Sakiko ducked behind the window directly across from her, and by peeking just a little bit through the dusty - but not too dusty - window, she saw that it was indeed the PSICOM forces who were making that impact on the train.

“So, they must’ve caught on to the lack of communication from their friend here,” Sakiko said with an observing tone, and with that in mind, she knew that only she could take out this menace, but to do that, the train would have to come to a stop…unfortunately.

“Tierce, stop the train,“ Sakiko ordered, “we have company.”

Yells of disgust, and other related emotions soon filled the train. The passengers weren’t all that pleased with what Sakiko had ordered, but they weren’t really in a state to argue her motives; as she is the only one who can protect them. Along with that, Sakiko could feel the train slowing down as the brakes were heard through a screech of metal -on -metal. Just a few moments later, Sakiko took percausions when hopping on top of the train. With about three soldiers who had full-plated armor, guns, and not to mention Jet Packs, this would definitely be fun for Sakiko.

“Let’s see what you got boys,” In a joking manner, Sakiko unsheathed her Ninjato that was held in her left hand, and the long chain was hanging over her right shoulder with her right hand grabbing it in middle.

With her stance taken, one of the PSICOM soldier dove in with a diagonal kick towards Sakiko. He was wide open for attack, and it was just sad. With a jump towards the soldier. In quick thinking, Sakiko cut off in mid-air, twisting her body to the left, and she swung the chain with her might behind it, and the dagger at the end of the chain dug deep into the soldier’s head, which was an instant kill. Her momentum didn’t stop there. By swiftly taking out the dagger, and jumping off of his body, Sakiko launched to the right where , In a few seconds, another soldier would feel the fury of Sakiko’s blade. Head forwards, hand gripping the dagger tightly, Sakiko swung the chain around her body were, in a snap of a finger, she had the soldier trapped in the chain, and with her intensions more-or-less pure, she took her dagger, and sliced the soldier vertically, and then took the chain, and literally choked the life out of him. This was not the end of it. Unwrapping the chain from the Soldier’s body, Sakiko landed on the train where she could gather her thoughts before taking out the last soldier, but it seemed he had other ideas for her. In his hand was a very small, but highly explosive granade. If he were to let that off, everybody would be done for.

“Tierce…” Sakiko’s voice trailed off into a pause, “drive…NOW!” In that notion, Sakiko hopped back into the train, and hoped that Tierce could get her, and everyone out of here. It was going to be quite the bumpy ride.
 
A screeching sound, the sound one hears when one’s computer terminal goes haywire and refuses to work, heating up and malfunctioning in an array of lights and sparks, echoed from behind Renton. Although the reality of the situation seemed to be the male that Renton had so nonchalantly criticized seemed to be a L’cie and furthermore destroyed the mechanical beast with a single cast of a Thunder spell, Renton saw none of this - he was still recovering for embarrassingly barrel rolling into the side of the stupid bridge.

"I think it couldn't handle those moves of yours." A smug response chimed. Well, Renton at least read it as smug. It was probably more so playful over anything. Maneuvering his face to stare at the male that recently appeared his expression was one of not being amused, and very irritated.

It was then he realized that they weren’t being chased by the beast. Arching his head to the side, he realized the beast was in fact down. And the ear-wrenching sound he heard before was in fact the beast malfunctioning. In the event not to look like a gawking child…and not to be patronized by the male that seemed to follow his directions, he decided to be smug right back. Rolling to the side and standing up, Renton crossed his arms.

“Of course it couldn’t. It isn’t every day someone gets to witness my amazing Bodhum sliding techniques. I wouldn’t be surprised if the idiot impaled himself while trying to catch me.” Renton then turned his back to the male. He didn’t want him to see him fuming. “Smug bastard. Who does he think he is? And how the hell did that thing get taken down?”

Lost in his rage, Renton didn’t realize the man, who is called Rasche, introduced himself. He also didn’t realize Rasche had moved closer to him, and was prodding him along towards the Pulse Vestige, muttering something about needing help, and saving his brother. As he was consistently pulled along, Renton was pulled out of his thoughts. Shrugging off Rasche, who also stopped, he stood his ground.

“Mind not pushing me? And what’s this about needing a hand and helping your brother? How do you even know I’m heading to the Vestige? For all you know, I could be a…a PSICOM soldier in disguise, sent to kill you and anyone in the Vestige. And saved me from the Purge!? You almost got us all killed! You crashed the only speedy transportation that was likely to take us RIGHT by the Vestige. If you really wanted to save your brother, you would have been a bit more cautious.”

With a grunt, Renton once again turned his back to Rasche. He felt a little better. Yelling at Rasche had somewhat released his pent up frustration towards the Purge, to his parents, to Bodhum, to the Sanctum…to everything in his life. Turning his head slightly to peer at the male behind him, he realized that he actually looked a little…pathetic. It looked as if he had no other options left. As if asking Renton was his last resort. And even if Renton hadn’t showed up, probably asking anyone who was near would have been his last resort.

“…But, I guess it’s your lucky day. Since I’m heading towards the Vestige anyway, I…guess I can help you.” Renton, with difficulty, seethed out before moving forwards towards the Vestige.

…It was going to be a long day.
 
[FONT=&quot]The Hanging Edge; once a thriving metropolitan area of commerce and life, it had been reduced to a restricted area centuries ago following the only major recorded conflict between Pulse and Cocoon, and now ridden by conflict, as well as corpses. This was a sight that would normally disgust Wisel, but on this occasion she could not afford to allow anything to cloud her goals ahead. Realistically, she thought to herself, in circumstances like this, people were always doomed to die. However, if she could make that difference in minimalising the death toll, it would all be worth it. However, another pressing issue lingered on her mind.[/FONT][FONT=&quot]

As the Pravoka approached the designated area of landing in the Hanging Edge, she contemplated her imminent meeting with that woman. A woman with a Messiah-complex, she believed, yet deluded at best. What hopes could she have to do what she had planned to do? Nevertheless, her strength had much to be commended for. Corpses of Fal'Cie had been left in her wake. This woman was indeed formidable, but just how capable could this one L'Cie be, regardless of her political position? Indeed, it was exactly the fact that she held such a prestigious political position that prompted Wisel to raise suspicions towards this woman, though there was still much information about her that Wisel wished to attain.

______________

The Pravoka gracefully touched down onto the landing below. In the background, there littered were thousands of flashes - presumably from military fire – diffusing throughout the air. Ominous explosions rippled through the air from short distances away. The landing hatch hastily opened and Wisel cautiously stepped out, her left hand gripping tightly the hilt of her Manadrive Blade that was held in front of her in case any hostility was to grant her a warm welcome. There was none, and instead what greeted her was a figure in the near distance; a figure familiar only to her. Gesturing, Wisel silently ordered her accompanying Cavalrymen to scatter in different directions with the instructions she had granted to them beforehand. She needed to be alone for this. She approached the bridge ahead, ignoring the corpses of PSICOM soldiers littering the floor.

The woman greeted her only with a protruding hand, her voice as cold as steel, and her cold gaze focused only over the Hanging Edge, which was in itself marred with infernos.
"That is close enough, Brigadier General,” she announced, her tone far from fervent and noticeably dangerous. “Before we get down to business, I have a question for you. Tell me, what did you hope to accomplish by coming so close to the Purge site, when you knew you were forbidden to enter? I suggest you answer me truthfully. Hold nothing back. To say that your life hangs in the balance is a very dramatic statement to make, but, even so...”
Wisel glanced at the figure’s hand, her fingers on the hilt of the sheathed sword that was in her possession. At the moment, she was not intending to kid herself. This woman was certainly dangerous, yet her true ambitions still cloudy for her. This was a woman who held a powerful political position and yet oddly desired the deaths of countless Fal'Cie. Ambiguous or not, Wisel was aware that this woman was lethal. Any false step could cost her dearly, and possibly the lives of her contingency in the worst-case scenario.

"Your Eminence," Wisel replied with an unfaltering voice, “Initially I had no intentions of treading this place, however I came to address a matter that would certainly not conflict with our common agendas.” Her listener did not move, her hand was still on the hilt of her sword and if anything, this woman was not impressed.[/FONT][FONT=&quot]“Though we pair are both L’Cie, there is only so much impact the pair of us can wrought. You, Your Grace, would be familiar with the lore of this world when it comes to the Fal’Cie, for they are as incalculable in numbers as humans. The presence of Fal’Cie in this area alarmed me, particularly that of a Pulse Fal’Cie. With any Fal’Cie and their ilk, they leave behind L’Cie to swear fealty to their hellish masters. If I were to track them down, I certainly would. Brave enough they would, like you and I, reject their Focuses and focus instead on bringing ruin to the Fal’Cie around us. Reflect on this Your Eminence, that with more allies, our common goal would be more quickly attained and no longer shall the Fal’Cie, devil creations of The Maker, be creatures of absolute domination. I of course do not doubt your incredible power in achieving victory over so many of the Fal’Cie, yet now they will attack in earnest, aware many of their brethren have been slain. Rather than take chances, I wish to extend my hand of companionship to any L’Cie willing to cooperate. If they do not, you would be free to deal with them as you see fit…”[/FONT] [FONT=&quot]

Despite her words, the woman still remain transfixed at the sight of the distant infernos and had not moved, her hand still ready at the hilt of her sword. Certainly, Wisel thought in those tense seconds that followed, it did seem like that she was underestimating the woman’s power. Evidently, this woman was not moved by her plan to gather allies, even for a second. This was certainly something she would be displeased at. Perhaps Wisel was dangerously underestimating her, though she did speak the truth. There was no hiding anything from this woman. Nevertheless at the back of her mind, she felt relief that her Cavalrymen were fulfilling the other task that the Cavalry had come for – minimalising the death toll. [/FONT]
 
Elicia let the silence drag on for several minutes as she considered the Brigadier General's words. Whilst time had little meaning to her anymore, no doubt the woman was feeling a considerable amount of pressure. She had staked a great deal on this, no doubt. Elicia kept her voice flat and measured when she next spoke, her eyes never leaving the Hanging Edge.

"I see." An interesting tactic she had taken. Placation. Respect. All that one would expect of an ordinary soldier in the face of her superior officer. Yet she was not even supposed to be here: she had defied direct orders coming from the highest level. She had perhaps drawn attention to herself far quicker than she would have liked, and was now attempting to smooth things over. It would appear that, for all her defiance, the woman behind her was very much a scared little girl. What was that phrase the humans used? Ah, yes - "All mouth" Ah, how disappointing. Not the strength to back up your words. Had it been I, I would have stormed out here, demanding an end to things. Of course, that would have gotten her killed, and perhaps she knows it...we shall see.

The smallest of frowns creased Elicia's features, although, her back still turned to her, the Brigadier General was not to know this, "'Our agenda'? Surely I am just another puppet for the Fal'Cie of Eden? Am I not just another convenient government figurehead, with no will of my own? I wear a mask, for I have no face. My face is the face of the Fal'Cie. Surely, to you, I have no agenda. Through me, you speak to the Fal'Cie. So, where does that leave you, I wonder...you have renounced your Focus? Is such a thing even possible? And, if so...would this not make you a liability? A threat? Tell me, Brigadier General...how do I - how do the Fal'Cie - deal with those who oppose them?"

Let the woman wonder at just precisely what she had gotten herself into. She clearly had suspicions, particularly about Elicia. Familiar with the lore, was she? She had shaped much of it with her own two hands. Although now was, perhaps, not the time to reveal this. No doubt it would only alarm the woman. It was not a particularly relevant detail anyway...the ghosts of the past were long buried, and the rest would soon follow, until it was just Elicia who was left. Wisel was not a part of that past, she was not even a part of her vision...not yet, anyway.

"You do not doubt my abilities, yet you feel compelled to defy my orders and make your way here, for the presence of the Fal'Cie alarmed you? Quite the contradiction. Tell me, have you been into the heart of Eden recently? No, of course not...you would not have had an opportunity. Perhaps I shall take you there. I believe you would find it most...enlightening." "Incalculable in number", indeed. She was certainly in for a shock. Elicia doubted that there were any more than five or six Fal'Cie left alive. There had never been that many of them to begin with in the first place - they had fabricated their numbers, so as to appear invulnerable. Oh, how quickly she had shattered that illusion. This woman, unique though she was, still laboured under so many false preconceptions, no doubt shared by all humans. Those would need to be shattered, were she to be of any use.

Elicia's voice hardened, "You presume a great deal, Brigadier General. Correct me if I am mistaken, but I am the Primarch of Cocoon. You are but a soldier, of high rank I grant you, but a soldier nonetheless. Intelligent, resourceful, courageous...but..." Peacekeeper hissed out of it's scabbard, the blade glittering wickedly in the half-light, "Ultimately expendable. You, Brigadier General Wisel, are a fool. You speak to me as though you were my equal. You defy my orders, and then grovel at my feet when I confront you. You seek to use me as a means to your own ends, for you see me as a lifeless puppet for a Fal'Cie master, less than even a Cieth. You cower before me in a farce of obedience, yet you ever seek to plunge a dagger into my back, thus ending the tyranny of the Fal'Cie, of the Purges, once and for all...your naïvety is stifling. Well, Brigadier General, I will not be your pawn, for I serve only one. So, your course of action is clear, is it not? You have but one alternative. I am alone, armed with only an antique rapier, no match for your superior technology. I have had no military training, for I am not of the military. You are a soldier, trained to kill. Go ahead. Strike me down, if you have the courage. This is your chance to put an end to tyranny, is it not? Is this not what you truly desire? Come...put me out of my misery."

Elicia smiled grimly. It would be interesting to see what she would do now. Would she attempt to strike her down? That would be...unwise. But not entirely unexpected. Wisel had no doubt expected a pat on the back, praise for her ingenuity, and leave to hunt down the l'Cie for her own little games as a reward...Elicia had certainly been generous enough to her in the past when she had disobeyed orders. The time for games had come to an end. It was time for her to learn why she was but a soldier, and why Elicia was the Primarch of Cocoon. One way or another, she would realize this, if she had not already. Although, she reflected, had she realised this, she would not even be here...and would likely soon be dead, for Elicia had no use for mindless pawns. She was not a Fal'Cie.

Ah, Brigadier General. What will you do?
 
Jeanne continued to watch from within the wreckage and out of sight from the two teens as they fought against one of Pulse's many war-machines. They were lucky, apparently, the damaged caused from it crashing into the train was enough for it to short-circuit and made it unable to respond.

Listening in on the conversation, she overheard the kid who crashed the train was only seeking to find his brother, captured by the fal'Cie. If this is true, then by now it wouldn't been too late, his brother would either be dead or worse, an l'Cie. The other kid grudgingly accepted which made her wonder if they are crazy or something. Before they went their way, Jeanne stood up and said, "You must be crazy trying to go in there." She jumped off one of the shredded cars and landed a few feet away from the two. "If you're right bout that fal'Cie, then you're gonna need all the help you can get. Though I warn ya, it's suicide."
 
A blast of cold air awoke Connor to his senses. His eyes fluttered open and gained his barings. He groaned and Staggered up. He glanced around and Gasped at the wreckage of a train not far off. He could see the outline of too people and what looked like a robot. He wasnt sure. Connor suddenly gasped at a pain in his arm and looked down at it to see a giant Gash. He gulped and snatched a potion out of his bad. Connor Rubbed it on the wound watching it heal. Sighing Connor looked around again. He decided to Follow the two people.

"what the?!?!"

The Robot suddenly Crashed to the ground. Connor stared in shock and watched the two people running away. They were almost out of sight. and Connor couldnt let that happen. So he took off at a limping run. He needed to find someone to travel with quick. Or else he risked dying. a few tears fell as he ran.

"why...did I come here?" He gasped as he ran. Connor had no answer to himself. That sudden courage made him hate himself. How much of an Idiot he was. He had reached the downed robot when the two people's outlines had faded. and Fear slashed at him. His eyes widened as he realised the situation.

He was alone. With no protection. Weak. and very.VERY terrifed. Tears started pouring down his face. His legs were shaking. He had no place to go. He wished all to god he could be found. He needed help. He stagged down and Cursed his Ideas. Connor Couldnt even make sounds without whimpering.

He Needed help. Or else he was going to die.
 
Stevie felt his stomach lurch as he heard the squeal of metal on metal, a sound that made his ears want to bleed. This is it, this is the moment that I die, he thought. To his surprise he felt no emotion at the thought, not fear, not happiness, nothing. Shock had rendered him senseless to something as trivial as the way he felt.

He closed his eyes, and the sound softened, or so he imagined. He could feel his body being tossed through the air, and hitting something hard. His eyes flickered open for a moment on their own, and he saw the train as it crashed, then they closed once more and he faded away into unconscious.

__________________________________________

The warm summer air filled his lungs as it flowed through the open window, allowing sunlight into the otherwise stark room. He could hardly move without sending pain down his whole body. The doctors said the disease that had been slowly eating away at his life had slowly begun to fade, for reasons they didn’t understand. It was a happy thought, or at least it should have been, but life had become hell for him, that even though he was still a child, he wished it over with all his might.

None of the kids would ever forget that he was the kid with the disease. None of them would ever want to play with him. While he was lost in self pity, the door opened and in walked a girl who looked slightly younger than him escorted by one of his doctors. She looked fragile, almost as though she was filled halfway.

“This girl’s name as Vanessa,” The Doctor said softly, “She has the same disease that is now leaving your body. We hope that the same will be true for her in a few years. However, until then, we would like you to keep her company, since you’ve already developed immunity to it.”

Stevie wanted to scream at the doctor, wanting to tell him to take the girl back with him, that he didn’t want her here reminding him of what he had lost in life, but one glace at her face, and he lost these words in his throat. She looked so…..innocent. For a moment, he lost his guard, but quickly pulled it back up, as the doctor left the room, he wanted for the sound of the door shutting before he said anything.

“Leave me alone. Go away! Leave me here. I want to die, and I don’t need a friend to do that.”

The girl gasped a little, and her face went sad. Stevie was surprised to see that this caused him to feel a piercing in his chest. He had hurt her. Hurt her for no reason. He had just struck out at someone who wasn’t at fault. Someone who was like him. Even as he thought this, his guard went back up and he blocked those thoughts out. He was so caught up in his internal struggle that he almost jumped when heard her soft voice.

“Daddy said that when we’re alive…we should do our best to stay alive. He said that…even though life is hard…there are people who would trade everything they had to have it. Daddy said that lie is the greatest gift in the world, and that anyone who throws it away is selfish. He said..to throw away your life is to dishonor those who lost it without a decision. You shouldn’t say things like that, okay?”

___________________________________________

Stevie’s eyes flickered open and he saw the wreckage around him. His body was numb from shock, but he knew that when he could feel, he would be in a lot of pain. The small amount of medicine that he carried around with him for emergency was hardly enough to heal his pain so he’d just have to suck it. Rising to his feet, he limped around the wreckage looking for a way out. Dead bodies dotted the wreckage here and there, reminding him of those words: “To throw away your life is to dishonor those who lost it without a decision”.
 
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