PRELIMINARIES: None of this belongs to me. Final Fantasy VI, and all characters, settings, etc. associated with it, are the property of Square-Enix...though they probably won't want them back by the time I'm done with them.


"These are certainly generous terms." I leaned back and took a good look at the man sitting across from me. He wasn't much to look at--a slightly too-long face, with an overly-prominent nose and massive ears that couldn't help but draw my attention. His beard was full and bushy...but it wouldn't be for much longer, if he continued to pluck at it like that. I could already see the beginnings of a bald patch on the underside of his chin.

When he wasn't plucking at his beard, he was tugging at a lock of hair over his eyes that probably should have been cut a week ago, pulling it back up time and again, and coming away with a few more hairs each time. In between the two, his eyes darted here and there behind his glasses, never staying in any one place for very long...and never meeting my own.

Suspicious.

I looked again at the contract on the table between us. "They're very generous terms--especially for just the lead role in a fanfic."

"You have a problem with that?" He still wouldn't look at me, but his face took on an unhealthy red flush.

"Not at all. I'm just not sure why you would do it." I shook my head again. Something about the situation wasn't right, but for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what it was.

In the end, I guess it didn't matter. If the man wanted me this much--even if he was a shifty-looking bastard with a funny-sounding name who would probably go bald before he was 30--then there was no reason for me to turn him down.

He grew very still as I picked up the pen, and leaned forward to sign the contract. It wasn't just anticipation; beads of sweat had broken out on his forehead, and he looked almost...nervous?

He sat back with an explosive sigh as I finished signing my name...and as I did so, the contract shifted, allowing me to see what lay beneath.

"What the...?"

He was sweating again as I picked up the contract. Underneath lay a sheet of carbon paper, and beneath that, now also bearing my signature--

"A casualty waiver?"




LEAP OF FAITH:

HAIR-LOSS THEATER

DRIVING THE AUTHOR
BATSHIT CRAZY
SINCE 1998




CHAPTER I


"And...ACTION!"

With a loud cry, I shot upright in a wordless scream. My head was consumed by a great roaring, while a chocobo the size of the moon danced in my gut. I felt, but did not see, the arms across my chest, forcing me down...down...

And then, there was silence.

The roaring died, and the chocobo slept; free of their tyranny, I passed to lesser masters--the ringing in my teeth, the ragged pain in my throat, the bruises that covered every inch of my body, and the bright light beating down on my clenched eyelids.

I dealt with this last dictator first. With a conscious effort, I relaxed my eyelids. The pain intensified. I wanted it to go away.

I opened my eyes.

At first, I thought the bright flash had blinded me. I squinted and blinked and shied away; but I refused to shut my eyes again, and in time, I was rewarded. The light dwindled until it became a lantern swinging back and forth over the bed on which I lay, suspended by a chain from a ceiling of wooden boards and rotting plaster. I looked up behind me, but a loud creaking noise drew my attention back to the ceiling.

I flinched as a few bits of plaster flaked off from the ceiling and dropped into my eyes--then cried out in alarm, as the lantern broke loose from the ceiling and plunged towards my unguarded face.

"OW!"

"CUT!"


"He's awake!"

I felt, rather than heard, the pounding of the footsteps along the floor towards my bed. I opened my eyes in time to see a bright blur become a dark blur. A cool hand went to my forehead as the blur swirled and coalesced into two faces.

The face on the right was a man's face, lean and narrow, with a sharp chin and brown eyes. A shock of pale brown hair drooped over the dark band that crossed his brow. It was this face that spoke first.

"Shadow, are you all right?"

"Who? Wha--"

"Just take it easy." This from the second face, as the hand (which I surmised to be hers) rose from my brow. "From the look of things, you've had a rough few days." She moved to say something more, but a snicker from the man drew her attention. "What?"

"A rough few days? Did you seriously just say that?"

She scowled. "So? What's wrong with it?"

"The man was buried alive in a collapsing tower, left for dead, dug out by mistake a week later, and you call that 'a rough few days'? Do I even need to say what's wrong with it?"

"But that's what's in the script! If you don't like it, take it up with the Latin genius with the megaphone over--"

"CUT!"


The one they called Celes cut a...prominent figure. She was of middling height, with a slightly rounded face, flashing blue eyes, and hair that went down to her waist. Her posture, her voice, and her every gesture exuded assertion to the point of being overbearing--something which, I was learning, did not make for good bedside manners.

"It'll come back eventually?" I stared at her in disbelief. "That's it?"

She gave me an exasperated look I was already far too familiar with. "Yes, that's it."

Locke, as the man was called, tried to intercede on my behalf. "Celes, can't you give him something a little more concrete, or--"

"Locke, I'm an opera singer." Locke grimaced, glanced at me--then did a double-take, and looked back at Celes.

"Did I just say--I mean, I'm a general. No, that's not it, I'm a...a...LINE!"

"CUT!"


I don't know if passing out from sheer pain counts as dying or not.

"Don't know much, do you?"

Shut up, Locke.

"CUT!"


When I next regained my sense of the outside world, the world had gone mad. Terra was screaming, and an old man was...laughing?

"Back! Stay back!"

"SWEETO!"

"Damn it, Scribex!" Celes bellowed. "What the hell were you thinking, hiring HIM?"

"CUT! CUT! I SAID CUT!!!"

The screaming continued...as did the laughter.

"Someone get Locke in here! We'll switch him and the girls this scene--AND BRING A TRANQUILIZER GUN, WHILE YOU'RE AT IT!"


It seemed an eternity before the sleeper was finally still again, and another before I could convince myself that he was in fact asleep and shift back, lowering my feet to the floor. When they finally touched, I straightened much more slowly this time, and put one foot forward. I felt my legs scream in protest; but it was not the sudden collapse I had experienced before, and I forced myself to ignore it.

Step after step, I focused all my energies on staying upright, ignoring my progress for fear of being overwhelmed by the magnitude of my task. Eternity after eternity after eternity...and then, I was there, staggering up and throwing my arms on the the window sill to look at the world outside.

And I saw Eternity.

All of Albrook spread out before me. I saw cluster after cluster of buildings, glowing with lamps in their windows and laughter in the distance, far into the night; beyond them, endless water glittered before my eyes. I looked up and beheld the jewel-encrusted cloak of the sky stretching out before me. It screamed of the unlimited, of the unexplored, and I soared along with it. My energy was limitless; my boundaries fell away...

...then I felt my feet leave the floor, and realized I'd leaned a bit too far out the window.

"Oh sh--"

*CRASH*

"CUT!"


The room suddenly felt unbearably confining. I turned to wake the sleeper--and I saw the mirror.

It was a full-length mirror, propped up in the corner; next to it stood a small table, on which rested a large brush and a number of bottles and implements whose purpose I could not begin to fathom. The man in the mirror stared back at me, hunched feebly over the window sill. I couldn't help myself; I shuffled over for a closer look.

As I reached the mirror, I noticed that from this angle, I could see my bed behind me, as well. The sheets were a rumpled mess like I'd left them, while the empty chair next to the bed was--

Empty chair?

I spun around to stare at my bed. The sleeping figure was still slumped in his chair; he hadn't moved at all.

I turned back to the mirror. The chair was empty.

Back to the bed. The chair was full.

Back to the mirror. The chair was empty.

I looked between the sleeper and the mirror one more time. Then, I shook my head.

"It figures."

"CUT! SOMEONE MOVE THAT MIRROR!"


STULTUS SUM

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