Chapter Text
Fett Shredding had started a fitness trend that took the city of Oriana by storm. It was so successful that Waisoh Fett, whom the organization was named after, was in talks to start a new branch in Midgar and the other city states.
They had to pass on Velgalta as the presence of Waisoh's past was too entrenched there.
Waisoh locked the doors of the headquarters, satisfied with a hard day's work.
He walked the familiar, albeit empty, streets of Oriana heading towards a dormitory where all his past followers, now franchise trainees, lived.
They should be doing night training now and will be pleasantly surprised to see him at this late hour.
As he prepared to round the corner to the building, that's when he heard someone calling his name.
Softly.
“Who's there?” Waisoh challenged, keeping his voice reasonable for the hour.
“Do you really think the Cult forgives?” The figure approached, features hidden in the shadows. “I am here to collect.”
“You're not the first to try.” Waisoh had expected another attempt. He placed his bag down and cracked his neck. “But I'll be happy to show you why.” He brought his hands up, boxer style.
It was better to handle it quickly and quietly like he did for the rest. Less questions.
The figure twitched. And so did Waisoh to dodge.
If it was a punch, stab, or hidden arrow, those he can manage.
Instead, a clatter of wood filled the air.
A puppet.
Toddler-sized. Jointed. Knives in both hands.
WEIRD!
“Whoa, wait wait wait.” Waisoh raised his hands, “not here out in public.”
The puppet was not capable of reason.
It flew forward, arms rigid, as if thrown by invisible strings.
As it neared, its blades flicked out, causing Waisoh to flinch and yield ground.
Unlike a human aggressor, he was unable to read its next move.
He barely kept up, using precise kicks to keep the knives at bay.
The puppet's wooden joints pivoted to dissipate the force, then immediately went back towards the attack.
The whole fight felt wrong.
Waisoh snatched up his bag and used it as a shield. The blades cut deep, spilling its contents on the ground.
But when the bag emptied, that was when Waisoh countered: using the remnants of the bag as a tarp he managed to cover the puppet in a ball, and tore it apart, bag and all, splinters scattered through the area.
“That’s how it's done!” Waisoh felt a rush of victorious high.
The figure was unmoved, and that caused Waisoh to check himself.
Movement caught his attention, accompanied by the clatter of wood being shifted. A sound that Waisoh now recognized.
Not one, multiple. All the size of the puppet.
He scanned the area and his heart sank.
It was an army of that weird thing he fought.
He exchanged looks with the shadowed figure.
Almost pleading.
“Know that Geppetto took your life.” It simply replied.
Knowing his fate was sealed, Waisoh yelled, as loud as he could, and charged to the figure.
At the very least, that shout would attract attention, and there was a chance someone witnessed this strange attack.
He only wished it would reach and give his men a fighting chance.
By sheer speed, he got into an arms length of Geppetto.
The puppets pounced, intercepting Waisoh.
He managed to smash a few before the first blade cut into him and then a stab in another area.
He had kept a mental count to keep his mind off the pain.
First his pectoralis major then his latissimus dorsi, followed by his triceps. All he could do was to use offense as a defense for his vital areas.
Finally, a blade struck home.
Right into his rectus abdominis.
A rush of air was forced out of his mouth. He fell to his knees, as the blade was withdrawn.
The last thing he saw were the dead gazes of the puppets surrounding him.
He wished his death could warn the men.
Then it all went dark.
Iris Midgar stared curiously at the new display piece on the mantle of Alexia's office. It stood out as being the first, and had been bestowed by their father himself.
Typically, it would have been a plaque, a replica, or even a writ of commendation.
Things that Iris had her first share of.
So what fascinated her was that it was the palm-sized shard of black rock, veined with gold dust like frozen lightning, propped up on small stilts to present it at the best angle.
The engraved plaque beneath:
FOR SERVICE TO MIDGAR
The Case of Stolen Gold Ore
“Congratulations for the award, Alexia.”
There was a quiet pause as Alexia’s cup stilled, midway for a sip.
“I didn't do much.”
“You don't have to be modest with me.” Iris remarked with slight amusement.
“No, really,” Alexia insisted, setting the cup down. “I didn’t do much.”
Iris blinked at Alexia. From her mannerism, she was serious. She sat on the chair next to Alexia's.
“What happened, then?”
Alexia bit her lower lip, considering.
“We managed to pick up the trail close to where we lost contact with the train. It led to a pass where we found the bodies… or what's left of it.”
“What's… left of it?”
“They were basically minced.”
“...Minced?” Iris echoed, eyes wide, voice small.
She then cleared her throat and took a long sip of tea.
“The bandits were trapped between two boulders, then crushed by rocks.”
A silent, horrified moment passed.
“That’s… wow.” Iris cleared her throat.
“That’s not the weird part.” Alexia continued, “what’s odd was that there were signs of a search, rocks moved aside to find something.”
“So it’s a rival group?”
“Perhaps. But there weren't any signs of an ambush.” Alexia folded her hands. “So either it was done by an elite group, or done by one person.”
“A one-person ambush is practically impossible…”
“Then, there is only one elite group that we can suspect.”
“Shadow Garden.”
Alexia nodded. “Which reminds me, how’s your search for Shadow?”
“WhosaidIwassearchingforhim?!”
Pause.
Iris then looked away, taking a long sip of tea.
“Iris onee-san, it has been a long time and we haven’t found him. He decides when he wants to be seen; and maybe he just wants to protect you quietly. Either way, I think it’s best not to chase shadows.”
“...was that a pun?”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.“ A sly smile formed on Alexia’s lips, “How about conducting an exercise with Char Ming?”
Iris huffed, looking away and took another long sip, effectively choosing not to answer.
Alexia went back to her thoughts.
In regards to the ambush, there was one more possibility:
She had heard of this tactic of trapping enemies in a pass, then crushing them before looting being discussed in class.
While Cid may have presented it, it could be anyone in class to use it.
Then again, who is to say that only Cid can come up with this idea?
Though…
Alexia glanced over at her award.
The dust glittered faintly.
Black and gold.
Why does it look similar to those on his neck?
The first snow has arrived in Midgar.
Not powdery, but proper snow. Knee-deep.
And yet, Midgar Academy of Dark Knights was still in session.
And today, some students thought it would be a great idea to start a snowball fight.
Objective: Reach and capture the other side’s flag without getting hit.
Rule 1: If you’re struck, you restart from your starting line.
Rule 2: No magic, no blades, only snow.
Rule 3: No crying to the instructors.
“Alright, let’s show our upperclassmen what we can do, so listen up.” Lin stood in front of her team heavily pelted, breath misting with every word. She looked among her men. “Form up in squads of three, Reverse wedge formation. Flankers on the left and right, maintain suppression fire while the center advances-”
“Alright then, let’s do this: Skelllllllll Etalllllll!”
…
“Oh my god he went ahead.” a girl gasped.
“Save him!” Po yelled, chasing after.
“Oh jeez, stick to the plan!”
“Let’s go! Let’s go!”
The courtyard exploded.
Snowballs arced like artillery. Shouts and laughter ricocheted off stone walls. Someone yelped as a direct hit exploded against their back. There were those who committed to the bit, pressing on their hit areas while groaning on the snow.
Another group tried to build a hasty snow barricade and immediately regretted it when the other side started lobbing precision volleys.
Lin’s meticulously planned reverse wedge had lasted approximately seven seconds.
Meanwhile, her brother heroically jumped in front of a snowball heading towards Claire. He was not part of the game, but yet the snowballs kept coming.
And he was the future Emperor of Valgalta.
Cid Kagenou stood near the far wall, casually leaning against it, hands in pockets, watching the madness like it was a mildly interesting performance.
He hadn’t thrown a single snowball.
He hadn’t even moved.
Humph, these people won’t be able to handle even one percent of my power. Cid thought as he ran his hand through his hair, leaving it standing like a cowlick.
SPLAT!
Cid looked at who threw that.
A snowball's throw away: Princess Alexia Midgar.
She was regal as ever; except for the smirk playing on her lips.
A stunned beat.
An eminence would not forgive this.
She stood next to a tree, which she ducked behind when CId retaliated.
Cid shifted, lobbing another, when other balls started hitting him.
Arugh!
Mob power 24: Rapid Snow!
Cid cycled his arms like a wheel, scooping snow and throwing without making balls.
The others did not stand a chance.
Especially with Claire literally pushing people into the snow for attacking Cid.
Just as Cid shifted to a position with more snow, he bumped into someone.
“Kya!”
Oof.
Cid looked down to find a shoulder-length black haired girl below him.
His palms met softness.
“Kanade!” someone shouted as Cid withdrew his hands as if touching fire.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Cid bowed, the very image of a mob who got accidentally lucky.
Kanade did not reply, but was quickly ushered away with her arms across her chest, shooting him a disgusted look.
“Trash.” She muttered.
Whew.
That was appropriately mob-level.
That was until he saw the way he was looked at by Alexia and his sister.
Uh oh.
Meanwhile, Lin stood proudly with the flag in one hand, the other on her hip.