Anyway, here it is, in all of it's glory. I'll try to make this enjoyable for people who aren't FF fans, of course, considering that the Dark Lord who runs this site gets to be in it, I think it could do well.
Silly, isn't it?
Yes, it's very silly. But... maybe it happened. Maybe it was a dream. Maybe it was true. Maybe there is something out there that took this group of misfits and sent them on a great quest to restore the balance of reality.... or maybe I'm just insane.
I like insane. It's fun. But what a story....
Our story.
"This is your idea of fun? Do you realize what you've done?!"
"Oh come on, look, it's funny! Think of the havoc they're going to cause!"
"You idiot, you've unbalanced that entire world! Don't you understand the consequences of this?! You could damage the planes of reality you nitwit!" An exasperated sigh followed. "Now I regret ever letting you come into being."
"Don't say that, Q. You know you like me."
"I did. Until you did something this stupid. Finding entertainment is one thing, but this?!"
"It'll be funny, trust me! Besides, I know the perfect people to go in and fix everything."
"Who?"
And then there was an exchange of mental images and data, as the thoughts of the two beings moved between each other. "Here."
"Them?! You send a bunch of megalomanical superbeings to an unprepared world with it's own problems and you want to send in a bunch of 21st Century humans to fix it for you?!"
"They'd be perfect! Think of the entertainment!"
"I don't care about the entertainment, I only care about fixing this mess up before *he* finds out."
"'He'? Who?"
"HIM. You know who!"
"Oh, that guy...."
"Besides, these people will never work. They won't know what the hell they're doing?"
"I've thought about that. I'll take two of them to different timeframes. We'll find one of them some trainers, let him learn some control of the cosmos and such, and the other... we can send him to Spira at an earlier time. Give him fifteen years or so to get used to the place, to guide the others."
"Or you and I could fix the problems ourselves, Gamemaster."
"I thought you wanted to be discreet? If we go in, those things will fight back. The entire planet will notice and screw up the way things should go. But these guys.... we can send them in and nobody will be the wiser."
"Spira's a delicate place! You just can't drop humans of that advancement into their world and expect nothing to happen!"
"Would you rather I send earlier humans, considering how silly they got about their religions? I mean, seriously, that's stupid. They're the perfect choices! They'll never be suspected!"
"I hate it when you have a point."
"But I do. So, let's get started, shall we?"
"Fine. But this is still your fault."
"Yes.... you blame everything on me. I'm already used to it."
If there was anything Mark Berger wanted to do, it would be to throttle the idiot who set up Winona State University's CD-burning system. Those were his thoughts at the moment, reading the glaring error message on the computer screen. Taking a quick look at his watch, he decided it was time to find Betsy and lunch.
That was his thought one moment; the next, he was somewhere entirely different.
The chamber was massive and dimly-lit. Two figures appeared out of the shadows. "Huh.... what in the Hell?" Confused, Mark looked around. He began to assume he had dozed off all the sudden....
"No, you're quite awake," a familiar voice remarked. One of the shadowy figures stepped forward and smiled toward him.
"What? John de Lancie?"
Mark's mystified reply was answered by cackling. "No, absolutely not. I simply chose this form because it's the one you most associate with me."
"Huh?" A sudden and weird realization dawned on Mark. "Q?! Wait a minute, you're a fictional character!"
"Or so you've believed. The universe is a very strange place, my poor, misguided human. Let's just say things aren't as fictional as you think they are." Q crossed his arms. "So, Gamemaster, you chose this particular person. Who else?"
"Wow, I really must be dreaming."
"Again, you're not," the Gamemaster replied with a grin. "You're here, I assure you. And now... to get your friends."
And one by one, pillars of light heralded the arrival of others.
Hundreds of years. It's been so long since I heard from any of them.
Looking down from the upper level of the fortress once called Hollow Bastion, a cloaked figure watched as those he once knew appeared in front of Q and the Gamemaster. Shouting arose as they each reacted with confusion to their being ripped from their everyday lives. Like he was, so very long ago.
Five hundred years was a lot of time for a man to think. To ponder the past, to feel regrets. And he had gone through it, knowing the stakes, knowing he had to be ready to take upon his shoulders the burden of this great undertaking. He also knew his choosing wasn't entirely an honor. It was the deed of a whimsical and annoying deity with an annoyed but still supportive partner deity. Fortunately those he had spent so long with had let him in on their mutual bungling, and the stakes involved.
The natural events on Spira had to proceed as laid out, if they did not... all reality could be endangered. And so those who had been transported there had to be located and removed quickly, or if necessary, killed.
"What in the living fuck is this?!"
The bellow echoed through the Central Hall of Hollow Bastion. The origin was... what was his name again? Ah yes, Dalton. Rob Dalton. His bulky form moved toward Q and the Gamemaster and he thrust a finger toward their faces. "What kind of joke is this?"
"It's no joke," Q replied in an indignant tone. "You see, we have need of you."
"Huh? What could you want from us?" Who was this girl? Such nice red hair... I never knew her name, did I? I only knew her as Sakura. Yes. That's right. She was the Otaku.
"Oh, nothing major."
"Exactly." The Gamemaster nodded with agreement. "We only need you to travel to a world you previously believed fictional and take out several superpowerful villians I let loose there before they unravel the fabric of all reality."
A moment of silence passed. "Okay, just what is this? I mean, this is too real to be a dream." The eldest among the gathered stepped forward. "Did you drug us out and bring us here for some joke, along with this de Lancie-look alike?"
Him. Ah..... the engineer. What was his name again? Damn these hundreds of years. I've spent so long learning to manipulate the cosmos I've forgotten the names of people I used to associate with daily. Well, that was quite a while ago, but the whole purpose of memory is that you always have it there to recall.
"This is no dream, Mister Wong, and I assure you, it's not just some joke." Q grinned widely. "You know, I took the time to look over your website. You're a very humorous fellow. Nasty, but humorous. I really should bring you to the Enterprise and introduce you to Jean-Luc, I think you'd get along fine with the old codger.... Oh, before I forget." Q stepped toward Wong with a finger raised. "Your characterization of me in 'Conquest' was so artistically done, I can never thank you enough. But, well, I must admit I am a stickler for fair fights, they're so much more entertaining, that if the Galactic Empire invaded the Alpha Quadrant, I'd probably raise Starfleet's firepower up a few notches to even the playing field. Nothing against you, I'm just like that."
It was hard to read Mike's face. A slight dropped jaw, eyes a little widened and with skepticism still alive and well in them. But before he could do anything else, another voice spoke up. "Okay, let me get this straight." A young woman stepped up between Sakura and Mark. Dark-haired and with a tanned complexion, she was clad in winter clothing with a ponytail at the back of her head. The figure on the upper floor looked down and considered what he was seeing. Hmm.... winter clothing, Midwesterner accent, mixed ethnic heritage.... ah, it must be her. Misty. "You are a real person, not some invention of Gene Roddenberry. And you have brought the likes of me here, considering we're just normal everyday people, to go on some wild quest to take down... who?"
"Kefka. Saruman. Maleficent. Sephiroth. Exdeath." Each answer drew confused looks from some of the assembled, and a growing frown on the faces of Mark and Dalton. "Oh yes, and Darth Maul too."
Q nudged the Gamemaster with an elbow. "You forgot Apocalypse."
"Bah, I'm not perfect," the being replied with a frown.
"You don't have to remind me of that either, I'm already well aware of it. I really should have given you a sense of restraint."
"Would you two please shut the hell up and just get on with it? Christ."
And there was more musing from the upper floor. Hmm.... I never recall seeing him in person. But the accent... and that posture. What did he call himself again? Eagle, and a number, yeah.
"Yes. And, you should be honored that we've chosen you," the Gamemaster said to them all. "Think of it, you are the first humans to leave your world. Of course, we'll wipe the memory from your mind when it's over, but still..."
"You can take your honor and shove it up your ass, I have a family back home. Find someone else."
"Unfortunately, Mister Wong, they cannot."
The voice from the upper floor prompted everyone to look up. The Gamemaster formed a frown on his face while Q's expression remained neutral. "You just had to show up now, didn't you?"
"I have waited five hundred years for this moment, you saw to that." The figure stepped off the edge of the upper floor and hovered in mid-air, coming down. "And you," he looked toward the assembled, "should consider yourselves lucky. I, too, was pulled away from my life, but instead of being brought here I had to spend five hundred years training and preparing for the coming task." He landed softly on the ground. "It has been so very long since I have heard from any of you. Allow me to explain."
"There is nothing fictional in reality. If it can exist, it does exist. Thus, we have beings here like Q. Q, in a moment of boredom, created this being. The Gamemaster. Who he would use to find entertainment, and to do so, he gave his new creation an irresistable desire to be continually amused and entertained. Unfortunately, he gave him no restraint. And so, the Gamemaster has left all reality in danger."
"There is a world that some of you may have heard of. It is called Spira. And on this world, an immortal being called Yul Yevon has spent the last thousand years constantly calling and recalling a being of monstrous power, Sin. But he will be vanquished shortly. It is the natural order of his world."
"The problem is, the Gamemaster, for entertainment, deposited several beings on the planet that, because of their power, cannot help but interfere with the natural order of the worlds. If they do so, all reality will feel the effect."
"This cannot be allowed to happen. They must be taken prisoner or destroyed. And for that, the Gamemaster was allowed to choose those who would fix his mistakes. He chose you."
"And if we don't want to do it?", one of them asked. An Englishman.... IDMR? Drake? "What then?"
"Then all existance may be in grave danger. Would you want to take that risk?"
"Then find someone else."
"It cannot be done. Once you were brought here, there was no turning back. I apologize."
"We know who they are," Mark said, "but who are you?"
"Who am I?"
The figure pulled off the hood over his head and revealed his face. His hair and beard had grown gray long before. "You may remember me simply as 'Steve'," he replied.
There were some glimpses of recognition on the faces of a few assembled, as they recognized the picture they had seen of this person they had all known online.
"Steve?" Misty pointed toward the gray-robed figure. "As in 'Big' Steve?"
A grin answered her. "Yes, that was it. You must remember, it has been five hundred years since I last touched a computer. I do not remember everything of those times, just enough to recall some of your faces and names."
"As you can guess, I, too, was brought here against my will. And unlike you, I was forced to endure five hundred years alone to prepare for this. It has not been a pleasant experience, and my anger toward the Gamemaster and his bungling far exceeds your own." A flash of anger appeared in those dark eyes, and made Mark step back; it seemed far more than just an "appearance". "But I shall not delay him any longer. For those of you who do not know each other, allow me to do the introductions." He surveyed the faces on them all, and by gently feeling their minds with his own, remembered their names.
From one individual to the next, Stephen laid out the individuals present. Kate "RocketGirl" Fahr. Misty "Ryguy" Greene. Mark "Iceberg" Berger. Sakura Azhreia. Marina O'Leary. Rob Dalton. Michael Wong. John "Deathbringer" Webster. Patrick "Eagle One" Phillips. Drake "IDMR". Chris "Goomba" Pepper. He remembered, with increasing clarity, the good times, the exchanges of friendships through the proxy of telecommunications.
"Ah, aren't reunions so sad?", the Gamemaster quipped, finally exasperated by the slow solemnness of the proceedings.
"Shush your insolent mouth," Stephen responded angrily. "You, of all beings here, have the least right to say anything. You are responsible for this situation. And to fix it you have had to drag us from the lives we knew and into a battle that is entirely of your making."
"Yes. It'll be fun."
Q rolled his eyes. Stephen turned his back to them. "The two of you may leave. I will take things over from here."
"Don't hesitate to call us if you need help," Q said. "And I'm sure you will."
Q and the Gamemaster disappeared in twin flashes of light, leaving the assembled alone. "I have to be dreaming," John muttered.
"Unfortunately for all of us, you're not." Stephen stepped to the wall, with his back to the others. "I have waited for so long to get to this point. Because, you see, when we finish this task, we all get to go home and we'll never even know what happened to us. This ordeal will end."
"How did you last, Steve?" Mark stepped up toward him. "To live that long?"
"I lasted, because I had to. There was no other alternative." He drew in a breath. "I'm sure some of you are now going to ask the question of just how you're going to accomplish this Herculean task placed on your shoulders."
"Considering the opposition, Stephen, I have to wonder just what good we're going to do."
"Marina has a point," Drake added.
"Yes, she does. Well, I might as well cut to the chase." Stephen turned around. "I will give to each of you a weapon, and this weapon will grant you powers and skill consistant with it's purpose. Once you have gotten used to wielding it, your power should grow and match that of your foes."
"Considering we're being warped to a Final Fantasy world, of all places, I take it we'll get to level up?", Dalton asked. "And without that silly 'sphere' stuff?"
"Of course." Stephen gestured first to Mike. "Please, come forward." From within the folds of his light-colored robe, the aged being pulled out an object with a slight curb that looked very familiar to many of the assembled. "Take it. It fits you the best."
Mike grudingly extended his hand, an agitated expression on his face. As his fingers gripped the curved object, energy began to surround him. A bright light eminated from the ground and his formal work clothing began to... to... change. Trousers and a long-sleeved shirt morphed swiftly into dark garments. Full-length black trousers and a similarly-black long-sleeved heavy armor came into being. Black gloves appeared on his hands and a flowing black cape extended from the back of his neck down. Dark boots finished the outfit. "I don't believe this...." Pointing the device he had been handed away, Mike flipped a switch. The resulting blade of red energy drew astonished stares from all the assembled. And, in the heads of all, a spectral voice intoned, The path of the Dark Side, to destroy all who kindle the fury of the Dark One, with anger the strongest asset and greatest liability.
"Holy shit," Misty said in a stunned voice.
"And now, to move on." Stephen walked next to Kate, clad in a simple blue T-shirt with a Star Wars logo on the chest and knee-length blue shorts. "This is for you." He reached within his robe and pulled out another small device, without the curve on Mike's. "Take it, Kate."
"Woh... What will this do to..."
"Trust me."
Kate considered the object again. Her hand reached for it, and her fingers wrapped around it slowly. As she pulled it in, light surrounded her. As the light spread around Kate an invisible line began tracing across her, changing her appearance. Her right shoulder was now bared, a white sleeveless robe replacing her T-shirt and white trousers replacing her shorts as the line of change moved across her horizontally. White boots replaced her tennis shoes as well. Her dark hair went from being free in the back to being braided into a pony-tail. Her left shoulder became bare and the transition ended. Again the voice spoke. The path of the Light Side, to overcome Darkness, unmatched discipline of mind, body, and soul in tune with the energy of the universe.
"I don't think you're going to make us all Jedi, are you?", Goomba asked.
"No, no I'm not. Here, Christopher." Stephen reached into the robe again and pulled out a scythe.
"When did you find out my real name?", Chris asked.
"A surface reading of your mind. Humans keep their identities well in front of their thoughts. Now...." He reached his hand out. "Here, take it."
Chris did so. As his right hand gripped the scythe, a light filled him. A line of change began to move up.from his feet toward his head, changing his simple running shoes into brownish boots. Violet trousers ended at his waist, where a brown jerkin began. Leaving his arms bare, and a bit more muscular than they had been before, the line of change created a violet cape at his neck and turned his hair silvery white. The path of the Magus, to command Death and Darkness with the power of the Reaper. Looking down at his appearance, Chris looked back up and grinned. "Um... I'm the Magus?"
"Well, approximately. Although I'd say you have a better personality."
"Steve, a question?"
He looked back toward Kate, who was swishing her blue lightsaber in the air, getting the feel of it. "Yes?"
"What was that voice? The one that spoke when you gave us the weapons?"
"A manifestation of the energy within the weapon," came the reply. "That's also why it transforms your appearance, to meet with it's purpose."
"Oh. Sounds like a bad plot device."
"Indeed." Turning next to Mark, Stephen reached within his robes and pulled out a weapon, a sword, which he gripped by the middle of it's scabbard. He handed the entire thing to Mark, who pulled the shining sword from it's protective scabbard. As he did so light enveloped him and his plain clothing began changing much as the others had. Dark cloth covered him entirely, aside from his head, ending at his Adam's Apple. A waist belt held a place for the scabbard to go, and he put it there as the voice returned. The path of the Ninja, to embrace speed and stealth over strength and fury, graceful and deadly.
He moved on, now to Patrick. "I don't get any guns, do I?", Patrick asked.
"Sorry, old friend, but that would be too obvious on a planet like Spira." Stephen handed him a lance. "Take this instead, and live up to the name 'Eagle.'"
At contact with the spear, Patrick's appearance altered. His work uniform altered into a green armor plate that left only his shoulders and head bare, with his arms and the other parts of his body covered. A green helmet shaped like a dragon's head formed over his head. The path of the Dragoon, to wield the power to master the sky, and to jump through the air like no other.
"Dalton, take this."
In street clothes, the stocky New Yorker took from Stephen a large axe. It reacted by surrounding him with light and replacing his clothes with strong red armor and a sleeveless mail jerkin underneath. Dalton's arms grew in size and musculature. The path of the Berserker, to meet strength with greater strength, and ferocity with greater ferocity.
Moving on to Misty, Stephen handed her a pair of clawed gloves. As Misty pulled them on her hands, light surrounded her, and her heavy winter clothing was replaced by lighter covering. A blue jerkin, baring her arms and part of her midriff, with her dark hair pulled up into a pony tail. White kickboxing shorts, down to her knee, went with steel-spiked black shoes. The path of the Fighter, to be swift and powerful, with strength of body and discipline of mind, physical perfection.
"Jeez, could I wear any less?", Misty said with a frown. "I mean, I'd prefer my gi."
"You've never played Final Fantasy VII, have you?", Dalton asked.
"Yeah, so?"
"Well, look on the bright side. You're not dressed like Tifa."
Ignoring the banter, it was now Drake's turn. Drake stepped back, and gestured instead to Marina. "Ladies first."
"If you desire." Stephen turned to her, and from within pulled out a bow. "Take this."
"Archery. Hmm." Marina's red hair flew to one side upon her whipping her head to her right, and to Drake. "Maybe you should have taken this, Drake? Never mind." She reached out and took the bow, and looked over it's fine wooden surface as the light surrounded her.
Immediately the sleeping pajamas she had been wearing was rapidly replaced along the vertical axis by ankle-length brown trousers and brown shoes on her previously-bare feet. A sleeveless green jerkin, with a long-sleeved brown jacket over it, appeared afterward, and a strap was visible, with a quiver of arrows on her back. The waist-length red hair was left alone, aside from the brown band near the top of her rear head through which it flowed. A short sword dangled from her waist belt. The path of the Hunter, to strike down from afar, with unflinching accuracy and swiftness.
"Your turn, Drake," Marina said, placing the bow on her back.
The Englishman nodded and stepped before Stephen. "What do I get?"
Without a word from the other man, Drake was replied with a bright and shining sword. "Take this, Drake."
When his hand touched the hilt, Drake was covered with light. Clothes were covered by white chain mail and a white steel breastplate. His hair fell to the back, partially visible under his white helmet. Chain mail sleeves and a pair of gloves for his hands completed the protection of his limbs. At the belt, a scabbard lie ready. The path of the Paladin, to defend the weak and fight the evil, with the power of Light embodied within the Paladin's heart and his blade.
Stephen turned to the remaining two; Sakura and John. "Which of you would like to go first?"
"Ladies first," John said.
"No, you can go first, DB," Sakura answered.
John shrugged and stepped forward. He had a rod thrust into his hands without comment. The red gemstone on the rod's tip shined and light enveloped him. A black cloak and robe covered him entirely, a hood hiding his head completely in darkness and his eyes glowing with powerful energies. The path of the Black Mage, to attack and to destroy with the tremendous power of magic.
"So, I get to be a Black Mage?" John grinned. "Where's my knife? And I promise, I won't stab anyone."
"I don't get it," Stephen replied.
"You... you don't remember 8-bit?"
"Not at all."
"You poor bastard."
Sakura looked at the others and then to Stephen. "Um, what do I get then?"
"You? You, Sakura, get perhaps the most important power of them all." Stephen brought out a staff, with a white gemstone embedded at the top. He handed it to Sakura. A white robe with red trim appeared over her, covering her completely with a hood over her mane of red hair. "Huh?", she asked as she felt the new power run through her heart and mind. "What is this?"
The path of the White Mage, to heal and to protect with the tremendous power of a pure heart and magic.
"So she's our White Mage?", Mark asked.
"Yes."
"But..." Sakura looked at her robes and the staff she held. "I'm... Steve, come on, I'm going to be useless! I can't fight!"
"Maybe not directly." Stephen took her hand. "But within you lies a purity of soul none of the others can claim. You, alone, can be the wielder of the white magic that will keep you and your friends alive. You may not be able to fight directly, Sakura, but you can save your friends from harm. Your magicks can protect them and heal them, as the weapon said. In some ways, you are the most important member of this team."
Somehow, that answer did not satisfy her. Sakura lifted the staff and watched the white gemstone glow with magical light. John was twirling his rod around, and with a devilish grin, swiveled on his left foot toward the wall and shouted, "Hadoken!" When nothing happened, he frowned. "Ah dammit, no...."
A beam of bright fire erupted from the gemstone and burned into the wall. "Wow."
"You should spend some time getting used to your new abilities, but for those of you with magical abilities, you must know that every time your magic is used you will deplete your strength of mind, until such a time as you can restore it. I can only do so here and now, and I will not always be with you on Spira."
"Why not? Aren't you going to show us where to go?"
"No, Misty, I cannot. It would cause... complications." He stepped toward the end of the hall. "I will give you time to prepare, but we must not delay for too long. You have this room in which to ready yourselves." He stepped toward stairs and began to scale them.
"Wait." Mark went to follow him. "Where will you be?"
"I will be waiting in the library. Come to me when you are ready." Without another word, he left. The others looked among themselves, and began to examine the weapons they had on hand.
