Author's Notes: Mega-Crossover. As you could tell from the pairings, this is one messed up story of sex, violence, chaos... and treason. Yes baby. It's up to me to make a senseless but graphically enjoyable plot! But slow as this story might be, what I want is for you to grasp the characters and then watch them get picked off one by one by their evil school.
Ècole des Trahisons
Chapter I - Duvet
By Alix Vitesse
An opaque glimmer of light glinted off of a pair of wire-rimmed copper glasses as a pair of thin, pursed lips waited until the ringing on the line stopped, and a voice answered. The man parted his lips, speaking with clear and unperturbed articulation.
"Hello, yes Jecht, I would like to request for Seifer Almasy to be sent to my office immediately."
"And sir, may I ask, for what reason must he be sent immediately?" The man on the line answered, a touch of annoyance tainting his voice.
"If you must ask, Jecht, since our dear Mr. Almasy is the president of our council, it would be most appropriate for him to do the job of introducing the new students around the school. And those student will be arriving quite soon, so if you have any further questions I suggest you take them up with me much later, for I am in quite the hurry."
Silence. And then the voice replied: "Of course, sir."
The man slowly put the phone back into place, clasping his hands once it was free from his grip. A small smile played on those lips as he swung his armchair around and put his hands onto his knees as he awaited the arrival of his requested student.
But, tainting the waiting silence came the soft planting of footsteps. A hasty click soon followed. The dean’s eyes widened as he spun his head around to face with his death.
“I’m sorry dean, but it’s my turn to take over.”
A gunshot rang through the quiet of the room, though stonewalls were so thick that none could hear.
“Pity the principal,” mumbled the black-clad murderer as he picked up the phone and held a voice-veil to his lips. He let a smirk slide as he clicked the button on the over-com. “Ms. Tilmitt, I will be leaving for a while. Please inform Mr. Almasy that he is to show two new students around the school when they arrive in five days, and that for now he is Lune Croix’s acting principal. Thank you very much, I shall be leaving now.”
A crackle was heard and then a jolly voice piped up.
“Yes, Mr. Highwind! I hope you have a lovely time, wherever you’re going! I’ll be sure to inform Seifer about it! Oh, do bring us back a souvenir or two, all right?”
The figure chuckled at the woman’s mirth and allowed her to listen to his laugh.
“Will do, Selphie… though I won’t be back for quite a long time. Farewell.”
“Bon voyage, Mr. Highwind!”
He clicked the button off and sauntered over to Cid Highwind’s corpse. A malicious grin struck his expression as he picked up the dead man’s lifeless arm and effortlessly slung the body behind his shoulder.
As Seifer Almasy entered, he looked curiously around for the principal. Even in the emptiness, the young man’s innocent glow gave the somber room light.
His hair of pale gold, a color so close to that of silver were pushed back by a thin layer of mousse. His icy jade eyes glittered against his sun-kissed complexion with a newborn light that seem to strike the dullness with an angelic aura. His well-built athletic body was hidden behind the formal school attire of a tucked white polo shirt, buttoned navy jacket, gray trousers and a black-striped burgundy tie with the gold cursive initials of the school. A proud, grave look emitted from his features as he stepped into the office and closed the door.
“Dean Highwind?” He called out, his voice having not matured as much as it should have. He strolled around the room, searching at the two doors on the left and the right, but found nothing. He felt his shoe slide a bit and he staggered to stay up. He cast his eyes down to look, but before he could, a merry voice sang out from behind him.
“Oh, Seifer dear! Seifer! Mr. Almasy!” Ms. Tilmitt’s voice ringing in the blank room surprised him. He turned around in a quick motion, as if by reflex. He was greeted by a massive bear hug from the thin woman, and a pat on the back. The woman in front of him was a happy, bouncy woman with light brown hair, with as much charisma as monkey high on ecstasy.
“Hello, Selphie. Do you know where Mr. Highwind is?”
“Oh, yes, yes! That’s what I need to tell you. He said that he would be gone for a while and so he wanted me to tell you that he needed you to show the two new students around the school. Would you do him the favor? I’m afraid he said he had very important things to attend to somewhere else than here.”
Seifer blinked for a minute, then nodded.
“Oh, and you are now acting principal! Isn’t that lovely?”
Seifer blinked again, and this time was quiet for a longer period of time. He smiled, albeit sinisterly.
“Why, yes it is.”
Squall let his gaze wander from his laptop to the scenery of fluffy cumulus clouds drifting along the airplane's wings. He looked down, barely able to see any other particular scenery because of thick cirrus below them. He sighed, frustrated at what had happened. He was perfectly happy at his school. And now suddenly, he's being sent to another school? And more importantly, he was being sent to a private school?
Jesus, he thought to himself. This is so fucking screwed.
He let out an exasperated sigh, and then glued his eyes back to the screen. But still, the thought of how he got into a private school. They were so expensive, and to add to the surprise, it was Lune Croix. Lune Croix was a school only shared between the most sophisticated and prolific of all families, and had heard many of the rich students from his school had transferred. One of those rich students, he was well glad to get rid of.
"Seifer Almasy," he muttered. "This just keeps getting better and better."
"Sir, the plane will be landing soon." A voice suddenly entered his head. Squall looked up to the side to face the stewardess, pointing at the flashing seatbelt sign and smiling a tad too joyfully. He grunted, shutting down his laptop and searching for the seatbelt with his free hand. He slipped the laptop back into its black carrying case.
He straightened himself as he clasped his seatbelt together. He sighed, gazing towards the window again. The plane had begun to lower itself; Squall could barely feel it drop. But the feeling was there, and joined it was that horrible, sickening feeling.
"Lune Croix," he said, grimly closing the window and his eyes. He opened his eyes slowly, still wishing that none of this were happening. "Well... I don't mind, just as long as Seifer keeps his sick distance." He continued on, trying to convince himself and looking like a schizophrenic fool.
"All right my ass," someone from behind him said. "Lune Croix is an preppy, smart-ass teacher-student affair. I can't believe I'm getting sent there." The boy had already changed seats from behind him to beside him. Harold turned to look at him. His look came out more of a glare than he had planned, for the boy rose an eyebrow as Squall continued to "look" at him.
"So," Squall said with stoic articulation. "You're going to Lune Croix, too?"
The boy let out a sour laugh and ran his hand through his naturally spiked blonde hair. Squall couldn't help but notice the boy's weird laugh. He had never heard such an odd laugh in his life; it was almost so weird that it almost made him laugh even if the boy meant for it to be sarcastic.
Surprising Squall a bit, the boy stretched his arms, almost knocking Squall's head. He spun his head around to see where the boy was reaching to, and he saw the boy's hand lift up the window cover. Squall continued to watch the boy's hand and barely heard him say: "That's Lune Croix."
Squall stared below, seeing the blinding colors of the gardens. The school looked like a deserted manor disguising itself in the myriad of bright foliage. Burgundy roofs slanted down like pointed houses; the dark gray walls were washed over with shadows, and many large renaissance windows gave light to the sullen school. So this was Lune Croix. He turned around to look at the boy, this time taking more time to study his profile.
The boy's hair reminded him squarely of Seifer's, except his was longer and not so properly made. From the way the boy was dressed, it seemed to him that he came from a littered high school as well. He had on khaki cargos with a smiley face on a black shirt. He wore a worn, large black vest over his shirt, complete with black and blue Nike’s. The one distinct feature was the tattoo on the side of his face.
"Hey?" The boy said to Squall, raising another eyebrow as Squall continued to calmly stare. Squall finally turned his head away and looked out the window, still ignoring the boy's "hey's". He looked out the window, until he felt someone else's heat in front of him. He shifted his eyes to look directly at the boy's outstretched hand. "I’m guessing you probably won’t have many friends once you get there, and neither will I. So why not at least have one? I’m Zell, and you are?”
Squall looked at Zell, who was smiling crookedly. Squall's emotionless look prevailed as he said only two words: "I’m Squall."
Squall had been sitting in the car for an hour or so, with Zell talking senselessly about anything that he could come up with. Though it was a bit annoying, Squall found it quite funny. And every time Zell would laugh, the weirdness in his voice would make the happiness so contagious that Squall would secretly smile as he looked out the window once in a while.
Zell stopped talking for a while, but Squall didn't notice. He was just gazing out the window at the beautiful scenery, and Zell had begun to do the same. The driver of the limo lowered the window separating the front from the back and surprised the two by talking.
"So, where'd you boys come from?" The driver asked. He was quite old, and had a gray mustache and beard. His eyes were cast down, but he had a warm glow to him.
"Well, I'm from this little city called Balamb. Went to Balamb Academy. Dad hit a big score in the stock market, and decided to send me to better school than my trash-heaped academy." Zell said smoothly, as if he weren't bothered at all. The driver looked to Harold, who was blankly staring at the mirror, which reflected the driver's face.
"Esthar Academy," Squall said, turning to face the scenery again. "Mother died, we got money." The driver gave Squall a funny look, but Squall could bother less with it.
"Your parents have any say in this?" The driver questioned.
"The principal is my father. He decided it for me."
The driver nodded and began to draw the window up. His last words to both of them were: "We're here."
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