Bloody

Ficlet in the Sands of Time Series
by scribblemoose

Irvine reacted instantly to the buzz of his pager, casting an apologetic glance at the girl he'd been talking to in the cafeteria queue.

It had been going particularly well, but then being called away on a mysterious and urgent mission at a moment's notice would only add to his mystique in the long run. She'd definitely been impressed, and he was sure he'd caught a wistful sigh of admiration as he'd left her with the memory of his most apologetic look and the slightest touch to her shoulder.

Irvine chuckled. He was good. He was ~very good.

He arrived at the training centre a few moments later to find Squall standing in a pool of blood. Not his, of course; rather some kind of reddish-yellow ooze that probably originated in a monster.

"Hey man," said Irvine, curling his fingers around the smooth, cool stock of his rifle. Whatever Squall had been fighting, he didn't look as if he was done with it; he gripped Lionheart firmly in both hands, mouth set in a thin line of determination.

"Ants," said Squall.

"Okay," said Irvine, cautiously. "You want I should fetch a big kettle of water, or...?"

"Giant ants," said Squall, scathingly.

He was covered in blood - presumably ant gore, in fact - too, Irvine realised. Rather a lot of it. He clicked Exeter's safety off and deliberately relaxed his body, instinctively creating the calm, fixed concentration that had helped him become the best sniper in the world. "How many?"

"As many as you like," said Squall, bitterly. "They just keep coming." He shuddered. "Look."

He pointed to a patch of ground just a few feet in front of them. At first Irvine couldn't see anything other than a rough circle of darkened earth, flecked here and there with little globes of white. Then his eyes registered movement.

The ground was seething.

Hundreds, thousands of insects, crawling around and through and over each other, some with wings glistening slick and feeble on their backs. As Irvine watched in fascinated horror, one of them started to grow, and another, and another.

He shot, and Squall charged, but the sickening realisation dawned on Irvine that it wasn't going to help. They dispatched the three easily, but as soon as they had become a bloody mass others grew to take their place; and no matter how many they killed, there were always more.

Recognising the need for a more blanket approach, Irvine called Ifrit to junction and started to gather a fira spell.

"No!" Squall glared angrily at him. "That just makes them stro-"

Too late.

"Oh shit!"

"You fuckhead! You didn't even do a scan!" Squall yelled.

"It works on ordinary ants," Irvine muttered.

Squall stood still, slashing another growing ant into oblivion with an almost neglient swipe of his blade. "What?"

Irvine shrugged, a little sheepishly. "I met a girl who had a problem," he said.

Squall's eyes narrowed. "Any girl who meets you automatically has a problem," he said. "And that would be you."

"Behind you," said Irvine, and Squall was duly distracted for the few moments it took to despatch another couple of creatures.

"Fuckers," muttered Squall. "Where are they coming from?"

"The ground?" said Irvine, unhelpfully.

The doors behind them swooshed open, and Quistis swept through them, with Rinoa close behind. She took one look at Squall and Irvine, and the pile of seething ants, then cracked her whip at Irvine so hard he jumped, even though the fine tip of leather barely grazed his knuckle.

"Hey! What was that for? We're fighting here, you know! This could be a matter of life and death!"

"Never mind that," said Quistis. "Go on, Rin. Let's hope it works."

Rinoa was already summoning Leviathan, and he appeared in an instant, a rush of steaming water that Irvine and Squall only just managed to dodge. And then, while Irvine was enjoying a moment's satisfaction at the instant death of the seething ants, another surge; this time an icy, breathtaking rush that was aimed straight at them, drenching him and Squall from head to foot in a second.

He gaped at Rinoa in disbelief, while Squall howled outrage.

"What the fuck was that for?"

"Next time you decide to go throwing magic around to impress women," said Quistis in her coldest, hardest voice, "try to remember how it reacts with the adaptive qualities of certain insects."

Oh.

Oops.

Irvine tried his best, most repentant little-boy smile on Quistis. It just made her glare at him all the harder, whip cracking threateningly at his feet again.

Which Irvine didn't mind at all. He tried to keep his smile as innocent as he could, though - at least until she'd calmed down a bit.

"I had nothing to do with it!" yelled Squall, looking ferociously beautiful, dark hair dripping in silver-flecked eyes. "Don't blame me because he's an idiot!"

"Oh, sorry," said Rinoa, with a smile more wicked even than one of Irvine's. "I just couldn't resist. You're so sexy when you're wet."

Squall opened his mouth, closed it again, and settled for glaring.

"Whatever," he muttered.

But a faint blush spread across his cheeks that made him look almost pleased.