Fic: Den of Ghosts

[splinteredstar]

Takes place shortly after this story.

Yeah, it’s a series now apparently. This is, again, more or less unedited. 

 

Final Fantasy 7/Bravely Default fusion

Last week, the Chief disappeared into a Turk van, and Jackal knew what that meant.

The young man slipped into the empty apartment and glared at everything. The place was deserted, just like it’d been the last four times he’d been in. No meticulously arranged folders of potential jobs, no terse notes left on the fridge to, “stop eating my food, boy”, no spare blanket washed and left out for him to use.

No Chief.

The Jackal flipped a dagger in one hand, staring at the sparse apartment. It never had much in it anyway, but now it was abandoned. They’d probably change the locks soon. It wouldn’t stop him. He only ever used the key because the Chief asked him to, anyway. And the Chief was gone. Disappeared into a Turk van, and everyone knew what that meant.

That – arg! The dagger thrummed, thrown suddenly into the wall. The Chief had gotten himself fucking /Turked/, after spending years telling the Jackal to be careful – the asshole /left/ just like –

The Jackal stalked over to his dagger and yanked it from the wall. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? The Chief was gone. Dead, probably. But even if he wasn’t, who the fuck could go against the Turks? Against ShinRa? The Jackal hated the terrorist groups and their fucking /idealism/ almost as much as he hated ShinRa right now.

….besides, Chief would hate someone trying to get revenge for him. Dead people were dead, he said once, the one time the Jackal had talked booze into him. Trying to get revenge was a waste of energy.

The Jackal stabbed the wall again, for good measure, for the sake of wanting the Chief to come out and bitch at him for damaging the apartment. He pulled the dagger out again, but the tip was bent now. He growled, rammed it into the wall again, and left it there.  

He leaned against the wall, his eyes stinging in what had to be impotent rage.