This is to be a series of drabbles based off the little figureines in the Sky Pirates Den. It's about the names they're given in there. Ex. Balthier is called the assault Striker, and this about him being the assault striker. I'm doing them in the order they're placed in there, and in the order of which I obtain them.

Assault Striker!

Back and forth, damage done with none taken.

Over six years and a young runaway could not scream louder than he did.

Balthier was the only one to stare away from a city full of wonders as they encroached on the behemoth Capitol, Archades. He didn't look at the familiar towers that scraped the sky, nor did he share the impressed yet wary airs the princess and her knight held. They were only translucent pillars that destroyed the vast unending sky.

It's within his movements and the words that pour from his mouth. He couldn't be in plainer sights of what he escaped.

He sports a grim and contorted smirk, as his allies hold sentiments he can barely recall. Vaan speaks, and he doesn't hear, but his reply is the answer to the Dalmascan's question anyways. The stink and reek of the city only grew worse as you went farther inside.

As open as a book, in which he tried to blot out the mistakes that would forever stain the pages.

He shrugs away tightness in his shoulders, almost nervous. He looks to where he rests his hands on his hips, and can't do much else but ignore the words of the strangers around him and walk oblivious to their awe. He stands taller and his eyes follow the backsides of young woman, to look his part.

He had learned that not all of those mistakes would go without their uses, and shaped them to his desire.

Steps come from behind and he drawls out her name with refined tones, but they seem to intonate into their own creation of rich textures that would raise the hair of any female.

Others don't notice, he hides his past deeper than most would care to look.

Ashe stands behind him unfazed, and he does his best to make up for his lack of showmanship, with a smirk and tilt of the head.

He hides it farther away and plays around the hurt, hoping they will never find it.

Ashe only asks a question, which he does not know to answer honestly. "Do you miss your home?" She wonders, aloud with a sadness he cannot place. Balthier shakes his head; he doesn't know what to make of her blunt words.

"It is no home of mine princess. The sky is my only shelter, and this is only another place where I can steal my wealth from." She's looking at him, and it makes him tingle deep inside, like his answer hadn't mattered; when she already knew his response. She's busy thinking about the decision she has to make and doesn't see the ones he's about to face.

One other can relate this feeling of running but still being utterly connected.

Ashe fades from his sight and he can feel the presence of Fran beside him. She's the only one that provides him a token of comfort, cold and hard; because in so many ways she is more free than he ever has been, yet still she shares his pain.

She can see what others do not, and she sees his fear.

"You do not face him for the princess. Do you." Balthier looks at Fran openly he cannot hide from her.

"It's time I took care of business, and find out what he did." Balthier takes a step away in dismissal, but she's still and waiting for him. He knows her ways to well to be surprised and her comfort turns to shards of ice, as it so often does. "Now that the princess is here I have the means to acquire it." He said quicker and with more heat than he wanted. It was to quench her cold and melt it away, but Fran disregarded emotions, she would not let ones feelings cloud their words. It hurt sometimes, when she knew he was trying to hide them from her.

Innocence is a game he wishes to play, but the past had made it far too fleeting, forcing him to see everything.

"Are you hiding behind her invisible hand, hoping it will give you strength?" He looks at the ground and takes a deep breath, "You are her hand, and it has power only if you make it so."

He looks back at her his face smooth, glazed in her ice. "I will do what I will Fran. I can't think of it now; not until the time comes." But he is thinking, he hasn't stopped ever since it sunk in at the coast. Every day closer, he could sleep less and less. Until it felt like no sleep came at all. Images streamed through his mind of the past, and he couldn't stop them.

The gun manifests his needs. He can hit, pierce the flesh like no other—a skill taught to him from before—and never is caught, or hurt by another.

Balthier is face to face with the man he once knew long ago. He has a gun and he's moving to load another shot, he aims and has clear sights. His shot goes out with a jerk and every thought for the last weeks he has had is released with it. He's been imagining this for ages and now as the smoke settles, the weapon aimed at her majesty is fallen, and the monster is kneeling on the ground.

Reddas is falling away as he tries to finish business that is not his, and Balthier feels something inside trying to tear free. He wants to shout, "why?!" but restrains himself from looking a fool. Father is talking and he hates every word more and more.

Then he finally sees why, as a creature of mist appears. He feels anger and disappointment rush in his veins as Cid escapes; flying away.

The assault striker hides and waits to hit you where you wish not to be, and when you retaliate, he's disappeared.

He had more anger than he knew what to do with and it has led him to this. Now his father is dying, and he doesn't know what to do. It's out there where everyone can see it, and he doesn't care. Balthier finds no solace with his father's end, so much pain he feels, when he thought it was left behind. He thought it was forgetting, but it was only running from something that would have always come. There is no escape, and he feels the world crumple, as it did before he ran. But he's trapped forever, with questions that will never be answered, and they tear him apart.

Fran sees his fear and sees what he hides from everyone else.

She brings him back; Fran alone is the reason why he had stayed in control. His emotions are running on a high and he's at her side with a loss for what to do. He can't lose her comfort, no matter how cold. Not now, when he feels so alone, he won't let her go and her hand presses to his cheek, she knows, even though her words are contrary. Run, run as fast as you can. His hand encases hers; he's had enough running.

A smile comes to her lips as he stops caring about his pain, and for another's; it helps him forget.

He won't leave her behind, because she best be running with him.

Damage done, none taken.

You're only running. The bullet always comes back and the pain is more, when you thought you forgot.

It's Fran's turn next! So dont miss out on the Spell Singer!