Chapter 32

On a desolate world steeped in darkness where Shadows infested the sewers, streets, and gutters like rats, a lone, hooded man emerged from an alley. The city's neon lights flashed bright, exotic colors through the haze, giving the man's black cloak a dull shine as he walked in the pouring rain. His leather boots splashed from one puddle to the next, yellow eyes following him as crossed onto a sidewalk adjacent to the largest skyscraper on the block.

On the street corner, another hooded man leaned against the brick exterior of a rundown shop with boarded windows and graffiti scribbled all along its gated door. He signaled the newcomer.

"What news have you?" said the loiterer, his arms crossed.

"The report was confirmed," replied the other. "Number Eight was discovered at the scene."

"To what end?"

"Unknown. The Superior has reassigned us. The others will deal with Number Eight."

With a gruff harrumph, the loiterer pushed from the wall and made for the street. With the other just a step behind, the two men made for a nearby alley where they disappeared into a vortex of swirling darkness.

A cool, hazy mist blurred Zack's vision as he struggled to focus his swollen, blackened eyes. Plastic restraints bound his hands and legs together as he lay helplessly curled in a corner drenched with water. He remembered little after launching from the doomed world with Paine, Sazh, and Sazh's little boy Dajh. Their mission to recover Andy ended in failure, and while piloting the ship away from the maelstrom of destruction emanating from the dead world, Zack thought for sure that the last image emblazoned across his retinas would be the consuming explosion that claimed the lives of everyone aboard Sazh's vessel.

But somehow, through a miraculous turn of fate, death spared the enigmatic soldier a swift demise and instead rewarded him with a torture unlike any other. An endless barrage of kicks slammed into his gut, and after a thrashing that lasted longer than he could tolerate, Zack fainted. But his assailant denied him respite. Cold water splashed across Zack's face, and when he regained consciousness, a torrent of water as if shot through a high-powered hose blasted across his face with such a devastating force that it broke his nose.

"So Zacky, you feel like yapping yet?" said the assailant in a nonchalant manner. He grabbed a fistful of Zack's sopping wet hair and yanked his head up to eye-level. "The quicker you spill the beans, the quicker I can get back to enjoying my vacay."

When he tried to wriggle free of his captor's hold, Zack found that his stiff body wouldn't budge. The restraints that bound his wrists and feet held him hogtied and helpless. His neck both sore and achy, he required enormous strength to glance around for anything useful. But his stinging, bruised eyes couldn't distinguish anything through the mist. Wholly at the other's mercy, Zack could do little else but grunt.

"C'mon, make things easy on yourself and tell me where the Perennial Texts are."

"I don't know," Zack sputtered.

The witless goon sighed. "Look: neither of us wants to be here. But if you keep this up, I'm going to have to—and I quote: 'use lethal aggression to extract information from the subject.'"

Zack could hear the crumpling of paper as his torturer stuffed a note into his pocket. "Still helpless without your briefs, huh?" he jeered. "How pathetic."

"That's rich coming from the little Nobody who runs around playing dress-up and make-believe."

"Why don't you untie me and say that?"

The lackey let out an overbearing sigh and leaned up so close to Zack's face that their noses almost touched. "You know what happens to traitors," he said in a cold, flat voice completely devoid of his previous whimsy. He let go of Zack's hair and kicked him again in the gut. Zack slid across the wet floor and slammed into the wall.

"I'm not going to ask again: Where are the Perennial Texts?"

"I don't know," Zack seethed, spitting out a gooey wad of crimson. "I already gave you my intel. Why punish the messenger?"

"Oh, I don't know," the tormenting thug singsonged as he loomed over Zack. "Maybe it's because the dumb brat you told us to hunt down didn't—what are the words I'm looking for again? Oh yeah—have them!"

Another strong torrent of water smacked into Zack's face. He gagged and gasped, unable to breathe as he just about drowned where he lay. So overwhelmed by the pain in his nose, he involuntarily screamed, thus forcing himself to gag all the more as his open, howling mouth filled with pressurized fluid.

"Not to mention I caught you suspiciously fleeing the world," the tormentor said over the sounds of Zack choking. "What are you doing all the way out here, Zacky? Got jealous of my vacay and decided to take one of your own?" Zack gurgled, and the assailant let out a mock laugh. "Oops, here, let me get that for you." The torrent ceased and the interrogator again grabbed Zack by his drenched hair. "I'm all ears, Zacky! You've got some 'splainin to do."

Zack hacked out another lungful of water, and with a strained voice, wheezed his shaky, response. "My cover...was jeopardized," he sputtered slowly, pausing every so often to hack out a mouthful of mucous. "I had...no choice. And...if I could...get texts...first...I could...hide them and...give to Superior."

"That doesn't tell me where the texts are now."

Forcing his wounded eyes to look up directly into those of his interrogator's, Zack repeated his standard response with more conviction than ever. "I...don't...know!"

Laughing like a loon, the goon dropped Zack, kicked him one last time for good measure, and strolled out of the room. The halls echoed with his amusement, and Zack could make out fragments of "can you believe this guy" and "what a riot" until his cell's automatic door shut with a metallic clink and bolted, plunging the room into a cold silence.

When the henchman was out of earshot, Zack feverishly rocked himself back and forth, building up momentum to tumble towards the exit. His sore cheeks slogged along the wet floor until they came up flush against the door. Upon making contact with Zack's flesh, the metal turned molten and began to melt into his open wounds as if filling a mold before transforming to skin. A light cracking sounded the mending of bone, and within minutes all visible indication of injury vanished from the soldier's body.

With rejuvenated strength, Zack produced a sharp knife from his bare hand and cut himself free of the restraints. The door that blocked his escape had been reduced to a melted husk resembling a lump of wax. He stepped over the remnants and drudged down the outside corridor with fists balled at his sides, expecting a confrontation when he rounded the corner. As he drew near, the intensifying sound of cackling confirmed his suspicions.

"You're a Class-A act, Zacky," chortled the guffawing goon from beside a security console. "That's gotta be a new personal best." He doubled over with laughter at the looping footage of Zack's escape playing across several monitors. "Do you have any idea how boring it gets around here? You're a godsend, man. You know that? What's say we put you in a straitjacket and have you go it again, hm?"

"We're done here," Zack stated flat. "Out of my way."

His tormentor stopped mid-laughter, his face falling rigid. "You haven't been cleared to leave."

"I'm not a traitor!" Zack roared. A slim shard of metal shot out of his forearm and slid into his clutch. In a flash, the soldier slashed at his unwitting keeper's throat. But instead of tearing through flesh, the razor-sharp edge of the blade cut instead through a mass of water.

"You really don't want to do this right now, dude," warned the jailer, his voice bland and unfeeling. Zack ignored him and struck again. Drops of water flicked onto the walls. "I'm serious; stop."

Zack refused to relent his assault. Maybe he just wanted revenge for earlier or maybe he grew a little too weary of his role in the grand scheme of things. Either way, he continued taking ineffectual swipes at his tormentor, even going so far as to conjure a broadsword. After a while, the room filled with several puddles. The jailer refused to counterattack. He stood there taking every hit in relative silence while Zack tore into him with blow after merciless blow.

Eventually, a door opened and a cloaked figured floated into the room.

"Don't say I didn't I warn you," said the monotone captor, and in reply he received an agonizing cacophony of screams bursting from the soldier's lungs.

Zack fell to his knees, his blades splashing into the puddles around him as he forced his hands to clutch at his searing chest. He clasped at the vacant cavity in his rib cage where his heart once pulsed.

A hooded specter loomed over Zack with its white, skeletal hand extended to point a bony finger at the soldier's torso. It advanced ever so slowly towards the howling man, the pain intensifying the closer it came. Zack doubled over, maddened by acidic burning that spread from his chest to the rest of his body. He involuntarily crouched into a ball and started ramming his head into the ground, all the while shrieking like a crazed animal.

The cloaked presence drew closer and closer until...it stopped. The pain stopped, the screams stopped, the soldier's breathing stopped. The skeletal hand fell, retreating under the long sleeve of its owner's robes. Time stood still in that room of agony until a soft whimper came from the broken soldier's cracked lips: "I'm...not...a...traitor..."

The door again opened and the foreboding phantom drifted into the outside hall, leaving Zack and his captor alone in silence. As time passed, water streamed from the puddles and pooled at the feet of the quiet goon, who leaned against the wall rereading the crumpled note from earlier. He tapped his boots in the water while humming a little tune, and soon, both the floor and his feet became completely dry. At that point, he shoved the paper back into his pocket and let out an animated sigh.

"Would you get off the floor already?" he drawled, giving Zack a nudge in the rear with his foot. "I'm dying to take a snooze, too, but we're not exactly finished here." His foot continued poking the soldier until it went for a full-force kick.

With a groan, Zack finally mustered the strength to push himself upright. "What more could you possibly do to me to get an answer that I don't have?" he growled as he recovered his discarded blades from off the ground. The metal melted into his flesh upon contact and patched some of his latest injuries.

"While you don't appear to know anything of use," the crony began, pep returning to his duplicitous demeanor, "we both know appearances can be deceiving."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you're not leaving 'til I have a little sit-down with your merry crew."

"My what?"

In a display of theatrics supplemented with a boisterous "Ta-dah!" the jailer drew dramatic attention to the security console, revealing the sole monitor tuned to the brig. Lying unconscious on three separate cots inside a singular cell were Sazh, Paine, and Dajh. Zack scrutinized the fuzzy security feed, but he couldn't tell the full status of anyone's injuries. They did not, however, look unscathed. Paine's face was black and blue, and Sazh's clothes were in tatters, no doubt hiding severe gashes beneath them. Dajh wasn't faring any better than his dad. His tiny overalls had numerous shreds missing, and at least while squinting, Zack could make out a rather sizable bump on the boy's forehead.

"They're pawns," declared the soldier. "They know nothing."

"Like, oh man, I dig playing chess about as much as I dig a round of patty-cake with the guy outside," replied the thuggish keeper as he sashayed towards the door. "You'd better hope your ship-of-fools gives me a better game than that." The door opened and the cloaked specter reentered the room.

"Don't kill them," Zack implored.

"You don't need them all. I'm sure you can deal with just one or two, hm? Maybe the midget and his jivin' 'fro?"

"Killing any of them would be detrimental to my carrying out the chief mission. The woman holds influence with the Brain Trust, and the man and boy are skilled couriers, but only when they're together."

The interrogator snickered. "Ha, that's what I love about you, Zacky; you turn the most boring chores into a real party." He left with a crazed laugh, and while the door shut, it didn't lock behind him. It didn't need to.

The foreboding entity took up residence in a corner near the exit. It stood there in crimson robes comprised of little more than faded rags that enveloped and concealed every inch of its body. The robes frayed at the hems and dusted along the floor, leaving one to wonder if its owner even possessed feet. A thick, old rope that was discolored and decaying at the ends held the robes in place via a large knot tied tight around a slim waist. A large, peaked hood drooped over the whole of the nigh motionless specter's head, leaving visible only a mist of its frosty breath that would puff out every few moments.

Still reeling from the traumatic death grip of his ominous keeper, Zack retreated to the farthest wall and leaned against it with arms crossed. He silently focused all his attention towards the security monitor, refusing to entertain any thought of the phantom's presence. Within moments, he watched as a group of guards came on screen and separated the three captives. They were moved to individual isolation chambers, and as the last of the crew was hauled away, their captor pranced into the cell. He hopped onto one of the cots and winked at the camera, knowing full well Zack was watching. A few seconds later, the picture went dead.

Zack scoffed and closed his eyes. Now he was the bored one.

In a dank, dark chamber where the sole source of illumination came from a strip of dim, red emergency lights that lined the ceiling, Paine awoke with a harsh gasp. It hurt to breathe and most of her body ached as she shifted on the ground. The concrete was moist under her, perhaps with water or sweat or something else entirely. She was too disoriented to get a good handle on her surroundings. A pernicious ringing deafened her for a spell, but as her blood pressure leveled out, it faded to bearable levels. Instinctively, she felt around for a wall that she could lean against, but her weak arms couldn't reach very far. Without enough energy to support herself, she begrudgingly resigned to lying flat.

"Hey, you awake?" The sudden voice pierced through the darkness, prompting Paine to force out a reply.

"W-whose...there?" she answered feebly.

"A prisoner like you," said the unknown voice. "Didn't think you'd ever come to. You're seriously banged up." It was a man who spoke, Paine deduced, though the slight ringing in her ears coupled with his high-pitched voice made her second-guess herself a couple of times.

"I-I've...had...b-better days..." she groaned.

"Here, you can have this if you can get to it."

Paine heard a faint clink nearby. "Wha...?"

"It's a potion," said the voice. "I smuggled it under the warden's nose." He paused before adding, "Don't ask how, heh. It's a bit embarrassing."

With extreme determination, Paine forced herself to move towards the vial. Searing pains shot across her battered body as she struggled to crawl through the darkness. The emergency lighting bathed the room in a dark, red hue and allowed her to only make out vague shadows in the near distance. She put all her faith in believing that a small, black lump nearby was the potion's silhouette and slowly advanced. Every muscle flexed and every breath inhaled were unparalleled agony. Reaching out a shaky, debilitated hand, she clutched at the silhouette, relief passing over her like a warm panacea at the confirmation that, although slippery and wet, it was indeed a glass vial. She uncorked the vial and downed its contents in one go. Within minutes, the most intense of the pain subsided and she collapsed with relief.

"I owe you for that," she said after heaving a sigh of blissful relief. While she still ached and sported some unhealed bruises, the worst of it was over for now.

"Hey, don't mention it. We Resistance agents gotta stick together, eh?"

"You're in the Resistance?" she drawled. Her mind grew slow and foggy all of a sudden, and her reflexes followed suit.

"Like, duh. Why else would I be in prison with you?"

"You keep saying that. What's all this about a prison?" Paine asked, finally pushing herself to sit upright. It took her some time to become balanced due to a sudden dizziness. She eventually turned to face the the other prisoner, and as with the potion vial, she could only make out his rough silhouette. Separating the two of them were long, shadowy streaks that upon tactile inspection proved to be metal bars dividing their cells.

"You don't remember?"

"Remember what?"

"Wow, that blow must've really scrambled your brain." The mysterious prisoner let out a sigh. "Guess I gotta fill you in, huh?"

"Fill me in?" Paine massaged the side of her head. Did she really have some sort of amnesia? She struggled to focus, and after great pains, managed to recall the turbulent events prior to becoming unconscious. "The last thing I remember...Zack, Sazh, and I were punching it to get off that godforsaken world." Her eyes went wide. "Wait, the ship—the ship didn't escape in time. The engines were a royal mess and we couldn't get enough altitude. How am I even alive? Hell, where are the others?"

Her prison mate let out another sigh. "Boy, are you ever off the mark. Let's take it from the top, huh? First off, you totally survived that nasty little explosion."

Paine had to stop herself from interjecting with, "Little? Are you crazy? The world exploded!" But she kept silent. She was alive—that much proved true—so she decided to withhold her criticisms until after hearing the whole story.

"Once you got clear of the blast zone, you gave a shout out to HQ," the inmate continued. "That's when the boss-man totally fixed you up with a new ride courtesy of me."

"They sent you to pick us up?"

"That's right."

"Strange, I don't remember you. Who did you say you were?"

"Man, amnesia's gotta be a real bummer. The name's Emyd."

"Emyd?" Paine's thoughts were too fuzzy to recall someone of that name.

"I'm totally a newbie," he continued. "I only just joined the Resistance, but I've got flight experience and was in the neighborhood when that world went all kablooey. Plus, I, like, totally freaked when HQ said they needed me to help out the legendary Zack and his pals! I so put the pedal to the metal to come get you guys."

"Wait, we had to strap high-duty engines to cut across the universe and get to Andy's place because there was no one around to help. So how is it you happened to be 'in the neighborhood'?"

"Seriously?" he replied, unfazed by the question. "Wish I had another potion for that head of yours. Um, like, hello? I'm a newbie! Why would the boss-man send me there when the toughest mission I've ever had was handing out pro-Resistance leaflets to seniors? But you were, like, HQ's top priority cuz of the Perennial Texts and all, so they had to send me to get you when no one else was around."

"Right..." Paine replied, still skeptical. Something didn't sit right, but her erratic thoughts refused to fall in line. It took all the energy she could muster just to throw her words together in a coherent fashion. "So you came and got us off the ship before it exploded?"

"Yeah. But seriously, speaking of the Perennial Texts, you remember what happened to those bad boys? Cuz now I'm drawing a blank, ha."

Paine sat silent for a bit as she tried to process the question while contending with questions of her own. "Who knows?" she finally said. "One minute they were on that world, and the next everything blew sky high."

"But you took them, right? The texts, I mean. That was your mission, yeah?"

"Our mission was to rescue Andy," replied with a shake of her head. "He had the texts, but we couldn't find him."

"You sure about that?" Emyd pressed. "C'mon, this is serious stuff here. If you guys had the texts on you, we'll need to make sure to get them back when we break out of here."

"I'm positive we didn't have them. That wasn't the mission, kid." Paine massaged her aching head with a moan. "Anyway, what happened next?"

"Well, once we were all a merry crew," Emyd continued without missing a beat, "that's when things got mondo cray. Like, the Heartless totally blindsided us. We couldn't get away fast enough and got snatched by a tractor beam."

"Wait, we're on a dreadnought?"

"Bingo."

"Oh, great!" Paine banged her fist against the metal bars. "That's the last thing we need!" She took a moment to compose herself and then asked after her friends. "Why are we the only two here?"

"Well, that's the super bad news," Emyd said with a dejected sigh. "You were out for most of it, but the Heartless tortured Zack and the others for info on the Perennial Texts."

"Dammit."

"When Zack and the guys refused to talk, well, they..." Emyd trailed off in somber silence, irritating Paine.

"They what?" she asked, eyes wide and heart racing. Her friends...they couldn't be... Emyd didn't answer right away, causing the panic to swell up inside of Paine. "They what?" she half shouted.

Emyd spoke with a trembling voice, conveying his hushed, solemn words slowly. "The Heartless stole their hearts."

"DAMMIT!" Paine shouted. She pounded her fist hard into the damp concrete beneath her, not caring about the compounding damages to her already-bruised knuckles. "That can't be right! There's no way!" Emyd tried to calm her down, but she wouldn't have it. "Those bastard Heartless! They're going to pay for this!"

"Hey, don't talk like that," Emyd said in a soothing voice. "That kind of talk will cause you to lose your heart, and if you become a Heartless, then you won't be able to help out your other friends. We Resistance guys gotta stick together, you know? We've gotta beat up the Heartless, but on our terms. Right?"

Paine fell silent. Emyd made some good points, but her head was spinning too wildly for her to focus. The dull aches pulsating through her body mixed with the whirlwind of emotions brought by the news of her friends' fates. Part of her didn't believe Emyd; her friends couldn't be gone! But another part, one filled with the sorrow of a past loss, stumbled headfirst into the revelation that she would never see Zack, Sazh, or Dajh again. Either way, her frantic thoughts volleyed around her foggy mind devoid of logic and rationality. It was easier to follow Emyd's narrative than to resist and ask questions.

As Paine wrestled with her torment, the door opened and a group of shadowy guards charged into the room. They marched up to Emyd's cell and surrounded him. One guard grabbed his arms while another went for his legs. A third guard pushed a gurney into the cell and Emyd was thrown onto it. Leather restraints bound him by the wrists and feet. All the while, Emyd struggled and shouted anxiously.

"What's going on?" Paine cried in a panic. "What are you doing to him?"

"Where are the Perennial Texts?" demanded a guard after punching Emyd in the gut.

"I don't know! I don't know anything! Let me go!" Emyd shrieked amid a flurry of assaults. The guards continued punching and slapping him while inquiring over the whereabouts of the Perennial Texts. When it became clear that Emyd would not cooperate, one guard unsheathed a sword.

"Tell us where the texts are or else," the guard warned in a stern, gruff tone.

"I don't know!" Emyd repeated in tears.

The guard harrumphed and then held his sword high. He asked Emyd about the texts again, and again Emyd claimed ignorance. The sword came down and Emyd shrieked with heart-stopping agony.

"Leave him alone!" Paine hollered, but the guards ignored her. She shouted again and again, but her voice was drowned out by the shrill cries coming from Emyd.

"Where are the Perennial Texts?" the guard demanded again, his sword raised once more. When he didn't hear a favorable answer, down came the sword.

A moist stream trailed its way from the gurney to Paine's cell. She could feel the liquid trickling alongside her and looked down. It was dark red. "Leave him alone!" she shouted again and again at the unfeeling silhouettes, pounding her sore fists against the bars. "He doesn't know anything! Leave him alone!"

"H-h-help...m-m-me..." Emyd whimpered. As the guards repeated their inquiry, Emyd repeated his pathetic plea until he was screaming it louder than the guards. "Please help me! Tell them what they want to know! I can't take the pain!"

"We don't know anything about the texts!" Paine implored. "Stop hurting him! The texts have disappeared! No one knows where they are!" The guards seemingly ignored her as they didn't pause for a second in their torturous deeds. They continued to grill Emyd, deaf to Paine's pleas and attempts at reason. All the while, more red fluid pooled into Paine's cell and she just about fainted from the cacophony of horrors piercing through her already rattled mind.

In the end, Emyd let out one final, ungodly wail before falling limp. The guards then wheeled the gurney out of the cell, Emyd still strapped into place. They slammed the door behind them and the emergency lights shut off not long after that, plunging Paine into total darkness.

When Sazh came to, he found himself in a similar room to Paine's: a damp, concrete cell bathed in a dim, red glow that limited visibility to just a few inches. Everything ached more or less, but the worst of it concentrated on his chest. He shimmied around the ground a bit, trying to find a wall to support his back. Continuing to lie on the cold, moist concrete wallowing in pain didn't strike his fancy.

"You know you're getting older when you get that certain crick in your neck," he jested as he placed both his hands palm down at his sides and pushed himself upright. "Now that's the stuff," he said with a wince. "Boy, I'm gonna feel that in the morning. Heck, I'll be feeling it every morning for a month." He leaned against the newfound wall with legs outstretched and sighed. "You know, I thought the afterlife would be different..."

"You're not dead, man."

"Whoa!" Sazh just about jumped at the sound of the other voice. "Who said that?"

"I did." The silhouette of a man waved from the adjacent cell.

"I'm Sazh. Who are you?"

"The name's Myde, and trust me, we're both very much alive."

"Well this is just great! If we're not dead, where's my boy? Where's Dajh?" The imperiled father tried to force himself up, but his stiff chest wouldn't allow it. "He in there with you?"

"No one else is here," said Myde. "Just you and me, man."

"And where exactly is here? What happened?"

"Well, that's a long story and you look like you're in a lot of pain." There was a clink on the ground close-by. "Here, why don't you take this potion I happen to have?"

"Potion, huh?" Sazh thought for a moment and then snapped his fingers. "Wait just a second..." He started fishing around in his afro, pulling out a comb, a book of matches, and the baby chocobo. "Hey, little guy! You here, too? C'mon! Rise 'n shine!"

The baby chocobo cooed and kicked it's tiny feet, not wanting to wake up.

"Oh come on, now. You know better than to sleep in!"

The chocobo chirped in protest and snuggled into Sazh's hand. That's when the tickling began, and the chick had no choice but to fly up completely alert.

"Umm, hello?" called Myde. "What's going on? Don't you want this potion?"

"Just give me a minute, would you?" said Sazh, before turning his full attention to the chick. "Didn't we have a mega-potion somewhere? I can't seem to dig out!"

The chocobo chirped and shook it's head, perhaps saying something like, "Sazh, you're hopeless." He flew circles around Sazh's afro and then dove right in. He fished around for a bit and then popped his little head out with a victorious "Kweh!"

"I knew it was in there somewhere," Sazh remarked as he grabbed the vial from the chocobo's talons.

"But um, hey! I already gave you my potion!" said Sazh's perturbed neighbor.

"And I thank you for it! But it'd be a shame to waste it when I already have one of my own."

"But why should you waste yours when you can have mine?"

"Thanks, but I wouldn't feel right."

"Oh..." Myde fell silent for a split second and then howled in agony, causing Sazh to jump with fright.

"What's wrong?"

"It's my battle wound! The Heartless really tore into me! I need a potion..."

"Well, it's a good thing I didn't drink it, then!" Sazh chuckled.

"But this pain is so strong!" Myde whined. "I think I'll need a mega-potion..."

"I think you'll be just fine."

"But the pain!"

"I swear, you sound just like my son when he gets a boo-boo. Drink your potion and you'll be fine. I promise."

"But—!"

"Sorry, already drinking this puppy." Sazh raised the potion vial to his lips and upended it when something knocked it out of his hands. "What the? What just happened?"

The chocobo chirped and floated around to where the vial landed and cracked. A puddle was visible under the shards.

"Oh no! Did your potion break?" cried out the nosy neighbor. "I think I can stomach this pain if you want to have mine after all..."

"Nah, that's okay."

"Huh?"

"Heh, I downed it in one go," Sazh said with a flex of his mended muscles. "Whoo! It's a good thing I did! I feel like a million bucks!" He chuckled for a bit and then stopped when he noticed his hand was wet. "Huh, where did this water come from?"

"This prison's weird that way," Myde remarked. "Odd things just happen, you know? Part of our punishment, I guess."

"Did you say prison?"

"Yeah. The Heartless are keeping us hostage on this dreadnought. They prowl around space abducting people and stuff. It's awful."

Sazh rubbed his chin. "They must've snatched the ship just before it exploded," he reasoned. "But if that's the case, where are the others?"

"You mean your friends?"

"You've seen them?"

"I saw a little kid with puffy hair."

Sazh just about crashed into the bars separating him from his neighbor's cell. "Where? Where did you see him? Was he okay? The Heartless didn't hurt him, did they?"

"Easy!" Myde exclaimed. "I don't know much—just that the warden was grilling the kid about something called the Petunia Tarts? No, that's not right. Umm...the Permissible Tents?"

"The Perennial Texts?" Sazh ventured to guess.

"Yeah! That's it! The warden said he would let the kid go if he just told them where he was hiding the Perennial Texts."

"But Dajh doesn't know anything about them! Who would grill a little kid over something like that?"

"I don't know, man. The Heartless seemed desperate," Myde said thoughtfully. "If you know something about those texts, you should probably say so. I'm sure they'd let your kid go if you did."

"I'd tell that warden if I could, but I don't know where they are!" Sazh exclaimed, his hands in the air. "Nobody does!"

"Well, until the warden finds out where those texts are, I don't know if you'll see your boy again."

Sazh scowled and kicked the bars. "There's no way I'm just sitting idly by while they do who-knows-what to my son!" He glanced over to the baby chocobo, who was floating around inspecting the cell. "Hey, do your stuff! Go find a key or something we can use to bust outta here!"

With a proud "Kweh!" the chocobo flew through the wide bars and started poking around in the dark for some kind of escape tool. But just then, the door opened and guards pooled into the room. The chocobo made like a missile and flew back into Sazh's afro for protection. Bringing with them a gurney, the guards forced Myde into restraints and began interrogating him over the location of the Perennial Texts.

"The boy didn't know, now it's your turn!" sneered a guard while smacking Myde upside the head. "Where are the Perennial Texts?"

"This is crazy!" Sazh muttered. "He doesn't know anything!" He started pounding on the bars to get the guards' attention. "Hey! Leave Myde alone! Nobody knows where those texts are, least of all him!" He continued to shout, but the guards ignored him. They tortured Myde until the echoes of his pained howls filled the entire chamber. Sickened by the whole ordeal, Sazh searched for something—anything—he could use to help the poor guy. But all he had were his comb, book of matches, and the shards from the broken Megapotion vial.

"Aha, that's it!" An idea popped into his mind, and Sazh struck a match. He used the tiny bit of pure light to carefully pick up the sharpest shard he could find. Once he had it, he gave the match to the chocobo. "I need you to fly over there and shed some light on the situation so I can take proper aim. You follow me?"

The chick bobbed up and down in affirmation and took off between the bars into the next cell. He fluttered around, shining the match's illuminating glow on the guards and their victim. With a careful eye, Sazh surveyed the situation, and what he saw stunned him. The shard fell from his slackened grip and hit the concrete with a chink!

The guards, who all bore the same face, stopped their assault and looked at Sazh. So, too, did Myde.

"I really wish you hadn't done that," Myde said, no longer screaming. He, too, shared the same face as the guards—one that was translucent and missing eyes, ears, lips, and a nose.

"What...are you?" Sazh asked, horrified.

"Nothing worth concerning yourself over," Myde said as he permeated through the gurney's leather straps and rose to his feet. He and the guards approached the bars. "Now I'm only going to ask this nicely once: where are the Perennial Texts?"

"Heh." Sazh smirked in a self-righteous way as he snapped up the wayward shard and held it in a defensive pose. "Even if I knew, I'd never tell you."

Myde sighed, his shoulders drooping from lethargy. "Just once, why can't it be easy with you people?"

"Old guys like me just don't know when to quit, I supposed," Sazh retorted.

The baby chocobo swooped in to hover beside his buddy. With a sole, flickering match and a tiny, sharp shard, the two prepared to fight for their lives. They struck a determined pose and each let out a mighty battle cry before charging at their opponents. But they were no match for Myde, who shot them with a torrent of water. Sazh and the chocobo struggled to breath, never mind stand their ground. In the end, they lay motionless on the soaked ground, the soggy match and shard long lost to the abrupt tide.

Dajh had an upset tummy. It was cold, dark, and scary in that damp cell all alone. He tried calling out for his daddy, but nobody answered. If only he hadn't lost his new doll; he would've felt a little better with a stuffed companion to pal around with until someone came to find him. After he spent some time sniffling in the corner, he finally heard a voice and it startled him just a little. It came from the cell next to his, and when Dajh scooted closer to have a look, he couldn't quite make out the face of the person sitting across from him due to the poor lighting.

"Hey, don't cry," cooed the mysterious voice. "You're not alone anymore."

"W-who are you?" Dajh asked, wiping his runny nose on his sleeve.

"My name's Dyme," said the voice. "What's yours?"

"D-Dajh," he hiccuped.

"That's a nice name," said Dyme. "Hey, do you want to be friends?"

Dajh wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and nodded. "Uh-huh..."

"Cool. Then I now declare Dyme and Dajh friends!" Dyme stated with a peppy bit of laughter.

"Where are we, Dyme? Do you know if my daddy's here?"

"We're in a really bad place, Dajh. But don't worry, I'm sure your daddy will find you soon."

"You really think so?" Dajh asked, hope gleaming in his eyes.

"Totally," said Dyme. "So while we wait for him to come get you, why don't we play a game?"

"Um, okay." Dajh relaxed his posture and sat whim his legs cross, keeping them warm with his hands. He wished he had a blanket. "What kind of game?"

"How about we take turns asking each other questions?"

"Like what?"

"I'll go first to show you how it works. But remember: you have to answer honestly, or else you won't get the prize at the end."

Dajh smiled with glee. "There's a prize?"

"You bet!"

"What is it?"

"When you win, you'll see."

"Yay!"

"Okay, I'll start first: What's your daddy's name?"

"That's an easy one," Dajh chuckled. "It's Sazh!"

"Very good, Dajh!" Dyme said with a clap of his hands. "Okay, now you ask me a question."

"Umm..." Dajh thought for a moment, crinkling his nose as he mulled over his options. "What's your favorite color?"

"I'm totally gonna go with blue," Dyme replied. "Okay, your next question is—"

"But wait," Dajh interjected. "How will I know if you're telling the truth?"

"Aww, that's easy!" Dyme said without missing a beat. "I always tell the truth!"

"Wow, really?"

"Really."

"But...then how can I win if we both always tell the truth?"

Dyme chuckled. "Silly, if it's a tie, we'll both get presents!"

"Oh! Okay!"

"So where was I? Oh yeah, my next question for you is: Have you ever heard of the Perennial Texts?"

Dajh's whole face scrunched up as he paused to think. "Uhh... I think I heard my daddy mention that before."

"Very good, Dajh! You're a pro at this game, kiddo!"

Dajh giggled. "Yay!" After about a minute he figured another question to ask Dyme. "What's your favorite game?"

"Lying on the couch!"

Laughter bubbled out of Dajh. "That's not a game!"

"Totally is to me," Dyme replied with a shrug. "Lying on the couch trying to see how many chores I can avoid is super fun, especially when I do it all day."

Dajh continued to laugh and he just about doubled over himself.

"Okay, now in all seriousness, here's the last question: Where are the Perennial Texts?"

"Umm..." Dajh thought really, really hard. "I dunno."

That wasn't the answer Dyme wanted to hear. "Now Dajh, remember: you can't win the prize if you lie. But since we're friends, I'll give you one more chance to tell the truth."

"But I was telling the truth!" said Dajh in earnest. "I don't even know what the pen manual tests is! I think my daddy talked about it once, but I can't really remember so good. But I really don't know where it is, promise."

Dyme let out an exasperated. "Sorry, Dajh. You can't get your prize until you tell me where they Perennial Texts are hiding." Not confined in his cell, Dyme turned his back on the imprisoned child and walked to the exit.

"No! Don't go!" Dajh cried, mist welling in his eyes. "I didn't lie! I promise!"

Dyme opened the door and slammed it behind him.

"Come back, Dyme!" he pleaded. Tears and snot streamed down his face as he cried his little heart out, not so much because he wanted a prize, but because he didn't want to be left alone in that awful place. "Dyme! I didn't lie! I promise, Dyme! I promise!" After a while, Dajh tired himself out shouting and he sat hunched over in the corner rocking himself. "I didn't lie," he continued to whisper. "I promise..."

He continued sitting catatonic for some time until a sudden clanking noise froze him stiff. With strained eyes, he stared in the general direction of the noise. Another clank followed a ticking sound frightened him into clutching his knees close to his chest. Following a loud bang, a panel opened in the floor of the cell and a foreign voice called out to him from below the hatch.

"Dajh, in here! Quick!"

Dajh didn't move. He was wary of the voice.

"We don't have time for this, dear boy! Come now, hurry! Your father is waiting!"

At the mention of his daddy, Dajh mustered the strength and courage to stand. He cautiously stepped towards the raised panel and looked into the light emanating from within the gaping hole lying beneath it. There, he saw a curious sight and decided to climb down the hatch.

"Wise choice, dear boy."

The panel shut behind Dajh, leaving the cell empty and the jailer anything but pleased.