Final Fantasy VIII: Full Reprisal
The fire from the blast had melted the paint off the walls. Irvine ignored the burn of it as he strolled down the familiar hallway toward the stairs. He knew he would be lectured later for going off the mission schedule, but it hadn't been on the schedule for Galbadia Garden to start destroying itself.
Irvine took the stairs to the second floor by two, hoping that Martine hadn't already shot himself in the head out of desperation.
"Irvine, where are you?" Selphie's voice was washed out over the radio—they really needed new ones.
"2F, heading for the elevator." He stepped onto the landing and out of the corner of his eye he caught a small movement. It was enough to send him spinning; the soldier's gunfire missing him by inches. The man was already hit—it was no wonder he had missed. Irvine's head ached from the noise, and it was with regret he raised his gun and pulled the trigger. He didn't stop to watch the solider slump to the ground, and refused to think about whether or not he had a family—wife, kids, an ugly dog.
All the soldiers here had thrown their lives away already by helping Martine steal the Garden.
"Irvine! What the hell are you doing, man?" It was Zell this time, angry and breathing heavily. "I've got like six guys dogging me."
"You're good, you can handle it," Irvine said, pressing the button for the elevator. "Stall, I'll be there soon."
"Stall? Stall a bunch of guys with guns and fists the size of my head? You're fucking crazy, what are you doing?"
Irvine thought it was ironic the elevator music was still working after everything the Garden had been through. He smiled and pressed the button for the headmaster's office. "He's here. I'm taking him out." He reached up to flip off his headset, ignoring the static from Zell and Selphie's shouts.
Irvine had visited the office plenty of times: to be praised, scolded, and given assignments that made his skin crawl. He stepped into the foyer and down the short hall, squinting through the smoke. He could close his eyes and walk this path if he had to.
"It's over." Irvine let his finger hover over the trigger. "We're in Garden and we're not letting your people hurt anyone else." He stood still and listened, afraid he had been misled on purpose by the radio message of one of the soldiers he had killed.
Irvine heard the floor creak behind him too late to turn before his lower shoulder exploded in pain, making his vision blacken at the edges. He barely kept a grip on his gun as he staggered towards the wall to have something solid behind him. He heard laughter as he leaned back and looked into the smoke. His arm hurt like a bitch—Irvine guessed at a knife, and as Martine stepped toward him, his suspicions were confirmed.
"All alone, Kinneas?" Martine asked. "Thought you were smarter than that."
"You trained me." Irvine made sure to not let go of his gun. He wouldn't be able to switch hands quick enough, but if he could just get his arm up once—
"No need to split hairs." Martine lowered his arm. "You made a mistake coming here. I know your skill better than you. You've gotten sloppy."
Irvine felt nauseous and dizzy, but if he was going to bleed to death in this hellhole, he was damn well taking Martine with him. He took a deep breath and raised his arm, straight and still, ignoring the ripping pain and tears rolling down his cheeks. He pointed his gun right in Martine's shocked face.
"No," Irvine said, thinking of Quistis and her bright smile. "You made a mistake by going rogue and killing my friends."
When Irvine pulled the trigger, he lost his grip on the gun, but it didn't matter. It fell to the floor with a soft thud. Irvine watched Martine die before he hit the floor, and then let himself slide down the wall, shoulder and arm throbbing. He refused to give into the urge to pass out and grinned at Martine's lifeless eyes.
"That was for Quistis, you son of a bitch," Irvine said, reaching up to turn his headset back on. "Good riddance."