Figaro Engine Room 2

Three long years had passed since that fateful day in the engine room. Who could have known that the battle would have been so tough? The player grasped gently at his forehead with a sigh, gaze briefly casting to the long-since discarded cartridge. "I really ought to finish it, some time." He muttered this to himself as he leaned back, fingertips tracing across his scalp, fingers from both hands soon interlocking behind his head.

Soft, warm fabric greeted him, the throw blanket comforting in the surprisingly cold house. "Why did I give up on that game, anyway?" His vocal pondering lead his gaze back toward the abandoned game, further nagging at the back of his mind. The young man would try to look away, but he just couldn't shake the urge. He had gotten like this before, he knew that much. But did he really want to put in the effort for something he had so easily cast aside the last time?

Quickly, he sat upright. He'd groan quietly, both conjoined hands giving a short rub to the back of his neck before parting to rest on his knees. He hoisted himself back to his feet to move toward the bookshelf that the game rested on. It lied there, face down amidst a pile of other discarded games he'd not bothered to rearrange in all this time. From there, it was a simple effort to move to the TV and slot the cartridge into the system. He shoved the power bar to the on position with an audible click. The TV screen remained dark for just the moment, while he moved about. Grabbing a dusty controller from the carpet, he dived onto the bed where a remote awaited him. He jabbed at the power button with his end finger, his grip already firmly situated onto the controls.

The screen flicked on with a quiet hum, the amalgamation of static and dust just enough to cause a few wires to briefly be pulled against the rounded surface. He smiled to himself, the title screen and familiar music setting the stage for what he knew was going to be his finest hour. by some miracle, his save game was intact. Almost instantly after loading it, the characters materialized outside the port town of Nikeah. Sabin and Celes sat there dumbly, waiting for the player's commands.

Soon, the duo would continue their journey onward. Barren wastelands gave way to a flourishing city by the sea, horrid monsters exchanged for hope in the form of young couples and children. They passed the inn, their supplies in dire need of refreshing by this stage. And as Sabin had so aptly put it, 'a long road could put a thirst in a man.'

It was with that, they restocked their potions and trinkets before heading toward the tavern. They had stopped there once before the world ended in the previous year, though they had never gotten to try the local cuisine. When they arrived however, something was quite strange about the rugged, yet handsome fellow at the bar. Sabin would notice it first, but he let it pass for the time being, taking a seat at the bar next to the man. He would look toward him once more, trained eyes catching the bottle he held.

"... This wine was his favorite," He thought to himself, the martial artist still staring at the imposing statue of a man. "Edgar?" Sabin would soon ask, curiousity overwhelming. "Is that you?" The man would blush faintly, eyes darting out to the corner to inspect his accusor. His attention would refocus ahead of him, throat clearing with an additional grunt. "You got the wrong guy, mister." It was his only response, the empty bottle settling onto the bar with a clatter. It wouldn't break, though the attention it brought was enough for him to make his exit.

The door would open noiselessly, Gerad pushing into the street with a sort of anxiety. He had hoped to be finished with his business, long before this happened. His thoughts were cut short, however. A young lad no older than fifteen rushed forward to greet the disguised king. "Preparations are all ready to sail, Boss." The youth would chime in with the sort of excitement to be expected of him. "Aye! Ready the men for departure. We sail with or without them." Having said his peace, the suave character sauntered his way toward the docks.

Back in the tavern, the pair still conversed. "Do you think we should follow him?" Celes' question was answered without hesitation by her companion. "Of course!" The muscled man would tap his chest in addition. "Something was up, but it was definitely him!" The magitek knight would nod in defeat. "Well, at the very least, it's a clue." They would rise in unison, and quickly depart for the Merchant boats and unknown destinations.

Only a day was lost at sea, though how the pair managed to remain undiscovered on such a small boat would remain a mystery. But relief awaited them as they pulled in to dock at South Figaro. They quickly disembarked before the rowdy crowd and their leader emerged from below deck. Ducking behind some nearby crates, they spied. They watched wordlessly for the longest time, noting the lack of supplies the group brought with them. As they marched north, Celes and her cohort could only follow so far behind.

These travels would lead them to the caves that formerly ran between North and South Figaro. The Empire's TunnelArmor saw fit to the closing of the path, although it was also a blessing. If not for the collapsed passage, travel into the caves might have been entirely impossible as that section of the continent had seperated in the apocalypse. But still, they pressed on.

Eventually, they lost sight of their marks. But it would be another familiar face that showed them the path. Siegfried wandered the passages and twisting tunnels. Undoubtedly, he was doing just as they had been. Although his trail was shortly lost, the pair found themselves in the prison of Figaro castle. It answered one question, but opened so many more.

So they wandered. There were few places they could move, as many doors were blocked by rubble and even water pressure. Down the opposing stairs, they came across the old engineer who minded the basement and controls of the submerging tower. He appeared to be in fine health, though unconcious. Sabin pulled him to a side of the room and left him be for the time being, so he and his female counterpart could progress without worrying too much about the state he was in.

As soon as they descended, however, carnage awaited. Signs of battle were apparent, unconcious guards would litter the path around every corner. Although fortunate they weren't dead, it certainly struck the younger Figaro odd that his brother would turn back to the occupants. The sounds of battle grew louder as they pushed on, before going deathly quiet as they neared the engine room. The doors burst open, the pair rushing inward.

The contents appeared in a flash, rogues and thieves in various states of undress. And Edgar was there in the center, his crossbow held to his chest. "Sabin! Celes! What are you waiting for? Give me a hand!" They stood there with mouths agape, eyes transfixed on the lewd scene. The sudden splash of warmth brought them back however, a discarded body bursting in the gears nearby. "Right!" The warriors declared in unison, weapons readying. Everything sharpened in that moment, their senses running high. But it was just as they began to move to battle formation that time stopped in it's entirity.

There would be a low groan from the fellow with the controller. "Come on, after all that? You've got to be kidding me!" He hurled his controller forward with visible anger, the round object bouncing off with a certain 'ping!' noise. The power to the game system clicked off with the same loud pop as before, another series of clicks and rattles engaging when he depressed the eject button. "You, my friend," He addressed the silicone in his hand, "Are going to sell on E-Bay for big bucks."

And that's exactly what he did. With his newfound money, he hired a hooker to clean his nasty-ass room. The End.