1. Prologue: The One Who Gained a Nemesis

Prologue: The One Who Gained a Nemesis

"_It's truly incredible!_" gushed the anchorwoman in front of clips of the public's favorite superhero, _"Once again, our hero has appeared to save us from the insatiable evil of Exdeath! Thanks to Klauser, the children of Dissidiapolis Community Preschool can go back to their learning with no fear!"_ The image shifted to show the lauded Klauser with his legs being hugged by small children. With the look on his face, it was hard to say he wasn't one of them.

The superhero, known only as "Klauser", was a tall man with a shock of white hair. He wore a zebra-striped tunic that clung to him in ways that made his fans squeal when he used his iconic pose, which usually resulted in hoarse throats after his every appearance. The footage showed it now; arms pulled back, legs spread, and chest thrust out. He was the picture of heroics with his hair fluttering in the breeze, a winning smile melting the hearts of even the most cynical viewer. Superheroes, losing favor with the public when he first arrived on the scene, had gained new respect by association. All around the people were filled with hope by the exploits of this one man.

"That worm," snarled Exdeath, crushing the remote in his grasp. The now useless piece of plastic dropped to the floor, sparking and hissing. "Never before have I had a 'nemesis'! None have lived long enough to earn that title. But that fool-!" The frustrated supervillain sent the television still blaring the praises of his unwanted rival into a black hole.

"If only Klauser were so easily taken care of," he mused, the power of the Void calming him immediately, "He's been impossible to track. Other would-be heroes would choose alias' that left a clear path to them. But Klauser… that one chose a name hard to trace. For even that fool could never be so stupid as to use his real name!"

Little did he know, he could. And had. For Bartz Klauser, age twenty, was a superhero.

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><p>Yo, CB here. After a summer of nothing I'm back with a story I put on hold to finish World of Wild Roses. I'm not sure how often I can update due to the horrors of senior year, but I'll make an effort to be consistant.<p>

Expanding on the summary, the story will be told from three points of view: Bartz (action-adventure superhero rom-com, oh my!), Firion (suspense), and Warrior of Light (drama). Each chapter will have three separate parts told strictly from their viewpoint, with the occasional extra chapter like this prologue that clarifies something happening away from the action. In addition to BartzxSquall, the pairings will be LightxCosmos, PrishexTerra, and one-sided SephirothxCloud.

Without further ado, please enjoy Danger in Dissidiapolis!


	2. Chapter 1, Part 1: The Lion Cows a Hero

Chapter 1.1: The Lion Cows a Hero

Bartz ran a hand through his brown locks, nervously shifting from foot to foot. He prayed to any divine entity he could think of that he was getting a raise. Just a raise. Not that he'd been called down to the manager's office due to complaints… or bank-book troubles… or a few days he'd missed. Yes, as soon as that door opened it'd be good news, not… anything he was likely to hear. He didn't need another run-in with the manager so soon after the last time. He wasn't lying when he said he was late saving a kitten from a tree!

Well, a catgirl. Who was a cyborg. And the tree was actually a clone Exdeath had made of himself.

Details.

Yeah, he was doomed. The manager wouldn't even let their boss get away with this kind of crap; what chance did he stand against his claws?

"I'd rather take on Exdeath," he moaned.

"So, throwing in the towel on this secret identity things?" A voice from his right broke through his dread.

"Zidane!" he cried, spotting his friend and sidekick. Zidane, or the Crescendo as he was known during their ventures, was a short blonde he'd met on both jobs. He and his older brother were once lab experiments of the mad scientist Kefka, who combined their DNA with that of monkeys. Since their escape the elder had become a hero known as "The Reaper" in order to exact vengeance. A chance encounter with Bartz on one of his own rounds saw him and Zidane as instant buddies and later a team.

Flipping his unruly hair, Zidane commented, "Down to the manager again, huh? You're slipping." He frowned and fiddled with it some more. Having it down all the time all the time drove him crazy but it was the only way to keep his identity secret. Too many villains were familiar with his look; there weren't _that_ many ponytailed, blue-eyed shorties in the city. And with his inconveniently fast-growing hair he had to keep it long just so it wouldn't be as obvious that it was a different length by the end of the day.

"It's just been so stressful lately!" Bartz protested, throwing out his arms, "Exde- I mean, you-know-who, has really been on the move! I hear he's planning to attack Governor Cosmos!"

"And this is why I say you should get a girlfriend-"

"Not this again-"

"I'm serious!" he cut in. Apparently ignoring whatever task he'd gone that way to fulfill, he leaned against the wall next to him. "Look, the whole problem is you take no personal time. There has to be life outside the cape and the job, and girls are just the way to go! Hey, if you hooked up with Phantasmagirl secret identities wouldn't be a problem!" He nodded, agreeing with himself. "You'd never have to worry about her getting kidnapped either."

"But I don't even know Phantasmagirl! Won't I look really creepy if I follow her around and ask her out?" Making to lean against the wall himself, he toppled through the now-open door into the room beyond and landed flat on his back. His eyes met with the cold disapproval of the manager's own.

"There's a client waiting for you in the massage parlor," he hinted, momentarily turning his stare to a snickering Zidane. By the time Bartz could get back on his feet, his friend was nowhere in sight. Without saying a word more, the other stalked back into his office; he knew Bartz would follow. Such was the influence of the manager. His very presence was known to induce shivers in even the older employees.

And follow he did. As usual when he walked into the spartan chamber, rumor after rumor he'd heard during breaks flooded into his mind. They said the manager had walked out on a nearby college when he was given a single bad mark. Another story was that he carried a gun on him at all times. Some even claimed that he was an underground prodigy sent in to gain power for a crime syndicate. Not much was known about the man, save that his ability to keep them all in order had gotten him the job of manager at as young as eighteen.

"Squall, I-" A glare forced him to correct himself. "Mr. Leonhart, something came up- I didn't mean to leave the client alone-"

"These excursions are getting more frequent." Unable to deny it, Bartz winced as he could all but smell the incoming wrath. "The owner wants you gone."

The world seemed to stop.

"Wait, you're firing me?" he yelped. The specially forged weapons, the high-tech headquarters, the pricey hair dye –how would he afford any of it on the streets?

"…No." For once an emotion crossed Squall's face. He rested his chin atop clasped hands with a breath that was almost a sigh. "…For all that you're flighty, you're there when you're needed. And this spa couldn't function without your expertise."

"You mean-!"

"I convinced the boss to give you one last shot." Forced to stop there to pry off an armload of Bartz, he threw in his strongest glower to remind his coworker of his reputation as a hardass. The other complied with the silent order to sit down but fidgeted all the while. "You're not someone we can afford to replace. Don't make me regret this."

The relieved employee jumped to his feet and exclaimed, "Don't worry, Squall! I'll make the most of this, you can count on that!" So caught up in the spirit was he that he dashed out of the room to his next appointment. When he heard no angry shouts to come back he figured he was in the clear. Mentally running the appointment book through his head, he selected the salon as his destination.

Springs of Youth, the renowned spa of Dissidiapolis, was where the three of them worked. Though it had started out as a simple collection of therapeutic baths, it gained more and more functions under the current owner. Now it had a state-of-the-art gym, beauty-related stations such as the aforementioned salon, and other healing facilities.

Zidane bounced between the salon and massage parlor, occasionally becoming a personal trainer for the more acrobatically inclines. Squall himself acted as a trainer on the occasion he left his office. Unlike them, Bartz had a hand in everything the spa had to offer thanks to his steep learning curve. There wasn't a single task he couldn't accomplish, a single machine he didn't know how to use to the fullest potential. Best of all, he showed no sign of wanting leave for any of the competitors that would take him in a heartbeat.

Early on in his superhero career, he'd had to steal the hair dye he used to disguise himself from the salon (still did if it was sold out at the store from flocks of impersonators.) He really needed another bottle now, but decided to wait anyway so as not to push his luck with the manager. He doubted Squall would stick his neck out for him again.

_Huh, it's hard to believe it's only been seven months since Squall was hired,_ he mused, still filled with fuzzy feelings from earlier,_ It feels like he's been around forever!_ With his body on autopilot readying the client's hair, he thought some more about the events in the office. _Boy, he really risked his neck for me there! I wonder why?_ The comb made brisk strokes, harder and faster than he would go if his attention was where it should be. _Maybe… he wants to be friends? But then why wouldn't he just ask directly? Unless he's shy…._

"Ow!" yelped the one who just got his hair pulled.

"Oh, sorry!" Bartz hurried to the next step, knocking a bottle over in the process.

"You seem distracted today." The client threw a teasing smirk over his shoulder. "Thinking about someone? Don't even try to deny it, man, it's written all over your face."

"I guess you're right," he admitted, "I think they want to get to know me better but are too shy. Maybe if we went somewhere together…." _He doesn't seem like he has many friends. I guess it's because he acts cold all the time._

"Well that's a given!" he laughed, winking and nudging his hairdresser, "Why not invite them to the movies? I hear there's a good one playing right now. What was it called?_ Eyes on Me_?"

He slammed his fist into a cupped hand in triumph. "That's perfect! That old stick-in-the-mud could use a little excitement! Thanks for the idea!" To make up for his earlier mistakes he truly outdid himself, completely transforming his client in a matter of minutes. Now done, and in a hurry to meet back up with Squall, he verified, "_Eyes on Me_, right? Better hurry or it might sell out!"

"You two have fun!" He shook his head, amused, as the excited employee dashed out the door. "Ah, young love."

Another agreed with him. Zidane, who either had ditched work or finished extremely fast, was waiting for Bartz directly outside the salon. He matched strides easily with his friend. "_Eyes on Me_? Good to see you're finally taking my advice. So, who's the lucky girl?"

"What are you talking about?" Had he not been so distracted, he might've caught the misunderstanding before it could get any worse. Alas, thoughts of Squall were all that was running through his head.

"So _that's_ how it is." He winked knowingly to the confusion of Bartz. "Don't worry, I understand. Just introduce us sometime, okay?" Speeding up, he left him in the dust, calling something about 'alone time' over his shoulder. Not sure what had just happened and in a rush, Bartz just shrugged to himself and made a beeline to Squall's office.

There he knocked a couple of times, thumping with uncontainable energy. It was this most dangerous (in other words, hyper) Bartz that Squall met when he opened the door.

After the jumble of incoherent words, complete with gesticulations, Squall in his usual deadpan way, "The counselor is down the hall to the left." He made to close the door.

"Wait!" Sighing, he humored the bouncy brunette and leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed. Seeing his small victory encouraged Bartz and he repeated, this time clearly, his invitation. "I was thinking, you've been here for awhile now but we don't really know each other that well." He paused and rethought that. "Well, unless you count discipline. Anyways, I heard about this movie called _Eyes on Me_ –"

In his hands a newspaper article appeared as if out of nowhere. It was a gushy review of the movie, written by a Laguna Loire. "Oh, you've already heard about it? So then do you wanna go see it with me?"

A long pregnant moment passed in which he didn't get his answer. "Uh, Squall?" Hand waggling in front of the manager's face, he tried to snap him out of whatever trance he was in.

"…What are you trying to do?" Squall caught the offending hand and moved it to get a better view of its owner.

"Huh?" Trying to yank his hand back and finding Squall's grip surprisingly strong, he stammered, "I just want to go to a movie with you! You know, get to know you better!"

Sincere eyes convinced the captor that Bartz had no clue what he was suggesting. Finally releasing his captive he muttered, "There's a showing at five this evening in the cinema down the street. Finish the day without causing anymore trouble." An expectant face brought a sigh to his lips. "…And I'll join you there," he concluded reluctantly.

"Really? Alright! I won't let you down, Squall!"

And thus the long-suffering manager's fate was sealed.

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><p>I'm going to try for an update each Sunday. I can usually get 1-2 chapters written over the course of a week so this should be doable.<p> 


	3. Chapter 1, Part 2: Flowers for a Goddess

Chapter 1.2: Flowers for a Goddess

What a nerve-wracking situation. The stranger, with his poisonous smile and unnerving gaze, lingered in Firion's mind long after he closed up shop, much to his displeasure. Earlier that, while he was gathering together the last of the arrangements Governor Cosmos had commissioned for that evening's celebration of the city's history that even now he was delivering, the man entered his little corner floral shop. Dressed in an elegant white suit and with purple-tipped blond hair down to his knees, he stood out from the usual customers the florist served.

With that sickening smile he'd surveyed the room, topsy-turvy with flower baskets and stray rhododendrons, and asked, "You're preparing for the celebration, are you not?"

"Yes, Governor Cosmos ordered these," he confirmed. Eager to get back to work but not wanting to break the uneasy eye contact between them, he said, "I'm sorry, but I've got my hands tied up with this evening's decorations. If you come back tomorrow, I can fill an order for you." To his trepidation the man had only given a sinister chuckle in response.

Showing no sign of wanting to further the conversation, the man continued to merely stand and watch the hapless florist. Firion didn't have much choice but to continue his work if he planned to finish in time. He had to grit his teeth and bare it; the eyes on the back of his head, the continued presence after he'd indicated it's be better to leave, the heel crushing down on a fallen gladiolus. Try as he might, he just couldn't seem to tune out the other's presence. It resonated with something inside him. But rather than be comforted by this inexplicable familiarity, it made his stomach turn.

By the time his visitor chose to speak again, the tension in the room had become palpable. "I've heard, time and again, the most interesting thing about Firion's Florals," he drawled, no doubt enjoying his startled reaction, "They say that the owner has a certain specialty that the competitors cannot duplicate."

Swallowing hard and fighting the feeling that answering would be a mistake, Firion confirmed the rumor that had presumably drawn him there. "Yes, my most popular flower is the blue rose." To think once he'd encouraged gossip about it! Something about this man filled him with revulsion, and now that he knew about the blue rose…. Firion's heart sped up at the thought.

"A blue rose grown naturally, without the aid of dyes. 'Like a sapphire' I believe was how they put it." Had he been able to move a muscle, he'd have sent this spine-chilling stranger from the shop then and there, but something in the man's gaze kept him frozen.

As the source of his anxiety approached where he was kneeling, he wondered what was wrong with him that day. He wasn't usually this easily distracted or spooked! This line of thought was cut short by the round head of a decorative cane forcing his chin up.

"Quite the talent,_ Firion_." His name was said with a kind of possessive emphasis to it. "Why don't you show me this miraculous ability of yours?"

Fortunately, the loud crash of a flowerpot smashing into the floor broke the spell the visitor had over him. Firion stumbled to his feet, knocking aside the cane with a frightened glare. The man sneered and swept wordlessly from the shop, his lavender eyes catching Firion's own for one final moment.

"…What was that?" he asked himself aloud. The only thing he could think to do in the aftermath was to clean up the mess of the broken flowerpot. There it was –the red rose he'd nursed back to health for a loyal customer. As he swept up the mix of ceramic and dirt, a thought occurred to him that made him frown. When he'd put the pot on that table, it was directly in the center to avoid exactly this scenario.

Now, pulling into the government building's parking lot, the questions of earlier still nagged at his mind. Who was that man? Why was he so interested in his blue rose? And how did the flowerpot fall off an edge that was a foot away from it? No amount of straining his brain yielded any answers. Ultimately he gave up, instead focusing on directing the unloading of arrangements. That being settled, he decided to check in with Cosmos.

When he reached her office his extended fist paused just before he could knock; voices from the inside stayed his hand. He would've left so as not to listen in but for one sentence uttered loud enough to be heard from the hall.

"Cosmos, your life is in danger!"

In an instant he was listening intently at the door. Their governor, in danger?

"-ogies for shouting. But I don't think you're taking this seriously enough! I've been speaking with the superhero community and all of them agree –Exdeath is targeting you! This festival will leave you vulnerable! As your bodyguard-"

"-you'll just have to protect me." That was the governor. "You were once a superhero as well. Exdeath will pose no problem for you if he shows."

"…If that is your will I have no place to question you."

"I understand your concern. But this is something I need to do for the sake of this city. I can't afford to cave to supervillains, for them –for the people I'm responsible for." These words grew fainter as the two on the other side of the door moved further away, finally disappearing altogether.

Firion couldn't believe what he'd heard. Cosmos, in danger? He checked the time; it was five-thirty and the event started at five-forty-five. Already guests would be arriving to sample the catering before the crowd hit, as happened every year. Then and there he made the decision to stick around and keep watch for Exdeath. It wouldn't be too hard to spot a tree walking around in a full suit of armor, would it?

By the time the celebration was going full swing, he regretted that earlier assumption. The only suspicious thing was that the governor had yet to show, despite the time for her speech coming up. He decided to go back up to her office and make sure nothing bad had happened, supervillain related or not.

As often happens in these kinds of events, he didn't even make it that far. One moment he was racing along the upper floor hall alongside a row of large windows, the next he was struggling to keep his balance as the building shook wildly. For a split second he worried it would fall down with them all in it, but then he was given something else to worry about. For Cosmos has appeared –rumpled, disordered, and in the hands of her enemy. Exdeath held her in one massive hand and was creating one of his infamous black holes (making a portal, Firion assumed). The governor, apparently feeling eyes on the back of her head, twisted around to meet Firion's gaze through the glass. Though she herself was helpless, she mouthed for him to run.

His blood boiled.

How could this happen? How could anyone think to harm their governor, who even now was proving how kind and selfless she was?

As these thoughts ran through his mind, he saw Cosmos' eyes widen in pain. Without thinking he reached out.

It was then that, for whatever reason, Exdeath dropped his prize. She landed against the window where she got tangled in the ivy that climbed the entire building. Firion breathed a sigh of relief, one that caught in his throat when he saw the supervillain focused on him. The strange feeling from earlier returned, stronger, and it was all he could do to avoid falling to his knees. Cosmos was watching him as well, not even making a move to try to free herself from her sticky situation. Finally stirred back into action by this observation, he ran his hands along the edge of the window to find some kind of release. Once discovered, Cosmos crawled in through the now open window and rose shakily to her feet, continuing to stare all the while.

A moment passed between the three of them –governor, florist, and supervillain- in which they did nothing but stare dumbfounded at each other. Then Exdeath laughed evilly and steeped through his portal with no fuss. It sealed up without a trace behind him.

Releasing a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, Firion turned to the woman he still couldn't believe he'd helped save and asked, "Governor Cosmos, are you okay? He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"N-no," she replied, eyes still wide, "I –thank you for your help." She peered more closely at him. "You're the florist… Firion?"

He nodded. "Yes. I –I can explain –I only came this way to-" She cut him off with a wave of her hand, glancing down each end of the hall as she did so.

"I understand perfectly, Firion. I'm sorry about all the trouble I've now caused you," she whispered.

Stammering, he protested, "No, you've done nothing wrong! I'm the one who should apologize for not coming sooner." A clanking sound came from down the hallway before the governor could reply. "What is…?" he murmured, not even registering that he'd stepped protectively in front of her.

A hand landing on his arm made him pause. "There's no need to worry, he's on our side." When he'd relaxed she stepped around him. "In any case, Exdeath saw your face. There are steps you should be taking now, are there not?"

"You're right," he agreed, now thinking of the repercussions of a supervillain knowing his face. Belatedly he realized he still wore his shop apron. Specifically, the one with the name of his shop embroidered across the opening of the wide breast pocket, courtesy of his sister. Saying a hasty goodbye, he hurtled into the nearest elevator, all the while praying for the best. And wondering at how fast everything changed after that morning's encounter.


	4. Chapter 1, Part 3: Not a Colleague I

Chapter 1.3: Not a Colleague I Remember

"I can't afford to cave to supervillains, for them –for the people I'm responsible for." The governor's face was lined with worry, no doubt from the increased number of warnings she'd been getting that Exdeath would attack. Even other villains of lower status had been dropping in to advise her against this evening's celebration.

The police officer sighed. "Perhaps not, but don't forget: the people you're responsible for can't afford to lose you," he said quietly. Strolling to the windows to work out his nerves, he continued, "Maybe I did once fight crime as 'Warrior of Light', but that was before I gained amnesia. I don't have any battle experience that I can recall, and my powers are sporadic at best. What I'm trying to say is, when the time comes, I may not be able to protect you as I should."

Nodding to acknowledge her presence now beside him, he stared, brooding, at his reflection. Dull eyes and choppy silver hair greeted him as always. Yet another reminder of the past he'd lost.

The governor wordlessly placed her hand atop his own. For about a minute they remained like that. Then, apparently feeling something needed to be said, she murmured, "You always come through when I need you. You and your powers. I have no fear of Exdeath with you by my side." The silence resumed, both merely gazing out at the bustling community.

However, it wasn't long before reality intruded. Cosmos still had plenty of work to attend to, festival related and otherwise, that sent her straight back to her desk just a few feet away. He remembered arguing with her about it when he was first assigned to guard her. "It's too close to the window!" had been his statement against it, in no small part inspired by what had become something of a joke in the city (though to say the windows needed replacement at least twice a week due to supervillain attacks was exaggerating… somewhat.) But she would hear nothing of it, insisting that the city was her inspiration, and that watching over it was what kept her going. He'd yielded under the condition that the glass be reinforced with every protective measure under the sun.

It was a short time later that he concluded the roof needed similar treatment. So quickly a misplaced blink would make one miss it, a red blur blasted straight through the ceiling (later he would find that it had been an uninterrupted line from the entry point in the roof several floors above the office). Like a bullet it blasted through that floor as well, leaving the two occupants blinking at the hole now before them.

"Stay clear," he ordered, cautiously sidling up to the wreckage. Just as he was leaning out to peer down it, a large hand shot up through the floor and grabbed his ankle. No sooner than it took for him to cry out he was yanked down to the same level as its body.

He didn't wait to will his powers to activate; to his profound relief he was surrounded by a nebula of light that forced his attacker back. It solidified around his body, cladding it in heavenly armor that weighed as little as its source. Finally, a sword materialized in his waiting hand.

The intruder, a giant man in boxy red armor, closely watched the transformation. He in turn had the officer's wary eye on his every move. But rather than attacking, a boyish voice drifted from within his helm.

"Aw, nuts!" he complained, throwing up his arms, "I grabbed the wrong one again! The boss-man's gonna be _pissed_." Ignoring the flabbergasted hero, he continued to bemoan his woes. "Ultimate Gilgamesh Technique 2.6 is a failure! O destiny, so cruel!"

Listening to his increasingly unrelated ranting with confusion and dismay, Warrior of Light found himself in a quandary. The man was clearly after Cosmos, whom it was his duty to protect. But his villainy was cartoonish at best, much like those whose goal was attention and nothing more. Still, he had enough power to break into the City Hall and was an operative of Exdeath as well. That made him more a threat than a joke.

With his resolve thus strengthened, he shifted his weight to the pads of his feet and sprang forward, sword aloft for an overhead strike. His steel met with steel. The giant, having grown deadly serious in an instant, had a sword of his own drawn to block.

"On the first try," he heard him gloat under his breath. Louder he declared, "Prepare yourself to face the power of the greatest sword in existence!" Having the advantage of weight, he easily pushed his assailant back. "I'll prove I'm the greatest swordsman on your body!"

Warrior of Light had no interest in giving quarter either. Though his opponent was strong, his technique consisted mostly of clumsy flailing and potshot stabs. These were none too hard for the warrior to block, even with most of his skill forgotten to him. Still, it was for the best to get back to Cosmos as quickly as possible.

That goal in mind, he knocked his opponent back with an aggressive strike. Then he posed with his sword pointing upwards held at chest height. Tendrils of light sluggishly began gathering around it and forming an empowering sheen across its surface. By the time the unfortunate minion had risen to his feet it was too late; a true ultimate technique had powered up. His next blow was so powerful it tore the opposing blade from its owner's hands and sent it spinning out the window.

"No, Excalibuuuurrrr…!" screamed the strange man, leaping after it before Warrior of Light could finish him.

Unsure what to make of it and feeling slightly annoyed, he kicked himself into gear. There was ample debris from Ultimate Gilgamesh Technique 2.6 to form a pile he could climb up to get back to Cosmos' office.

Deserted.

Making note to dispose of any plants that made their way into the room in the future, gift or no, he peered out the window they'd been used to unlock for any glimpse of his charge. There –it seemed she'd managed to get free and was now tangled in the ivy covering the building. He wasted no time in dashing out down the hall to make the rescue.

To his surprise, when he came upon her she was waiting for him, unharmed, in front of an open window. He slowed his headlong run to a walk.

"What happened?" he asked urgently as soon as he arrived at her side.

Face pensive, she replied, "As Exdeath was readying to take me away, a super saved me at the expense of his identity."

"What?" He could hardly believe such as unlikely even had occurred. Their community had made the City Hall his jurisdiction, and had promised to patrol the whole city tonight. "Which one?"

"I'm not sure," she said with a slow shake of her head, "I wasn't aware we had a hero in this city with power over plants. For now let's call him our 'Wild Rose'."

"'Rose'? Why –" He broke off as a thought occurred to him. "The florist," he realized, jaw clenching.

Cosmos straightened her rumpled suit, an act he recognized as one of her nervous habits. "His eyes went dark, like a man possessed. He even grew horns!" Without her even having to say a word more, he knew what she planned to ask and prepared to disappoint her.

"Cosmos, I've scoured the super community, hero and villain alike, in search of any who could tell me who I am. As you've probably guessed, there are no heroes who control flora." Here he grew ever graver. "The only super with that power is Exdeath. And he –" Even with the governor's safety riding on it, he couldn't bare to say it.

"He…?" she prompted. The only answer she got was a back. "I see. I'll trust your judgment on this matter, then. In the meantime we must join our guests in the lobby."

As they walked together to the main elevator, a sense of foreboding came over him. A strong feeling of nostalgia pulsed through him the more he thought about the recent events of the evening. Yes, the ceiling and floor should definitely be reinforced. And maybe Cosmos would finally consent to wearing bulletproof clothing….

* * *

><p>'pologies, folks, I know I missed my schedule last weekend. SATs and all that jazz. And then I got distracted by Teen Titans… and Young Justice… um, research?<p>

And yes, he really did go through 1.1-1.9, create a new move, and make it to .6 on that one.


	5. Chapter 2, Part 1: Late to the Party

Chapter 2.1: Late to the Party

Bartz found himself kind of wanting to die. Sure enough, he'd finished his shift like a model employee, even working a little extra until Zidane dragged him away to freshen him up. Squall even waited for him and gave him a ride to the theater! They collected their tickets, treats (Bartz grabbed every kind of gummi and, picked out by a grudging Squall at his insistence, some kind of malted chocolate balls), and Bartz bounced excitedly into the half-empty theater. Initially Squall refused to sit next to him, but grabbing his hand and loudly cajoling soon fixed that.

"You don't want us seen together," Squall hissed close to his ear. Strangely enough, he jerked back when titters arose from a group of nearby girls. Titters that blossomed into full-blown giggles when Bartz gave them a cheery greeting and wave.

"Hey Squall, I think they like you," he grinned, laughing to himself at the withering stare he got in return, "You're a little touchy today. Long day at work? I can give a pretty good massage if you need one!"

"You can give me a massage!" called one of the girls, struggling to hold back her laughter.

He laughed good-naturedly. "Sorry Miss, but I'd have to charge! I am a professional after all!"

Beside him Squall had shifted so that his face was hidden in the shadows. Bartz couldn't imagine why; wasn't he increasing the client pool? Still, he wasn't the only one expressing dissatisfaction. Others were shushing at him over the previews. He muttered a sheepish apology and nodded to the girl when she invited him to "swing her way any day". Now there was an interesting thought. Maybe he would have to speak with the owner about the possibility of house calls.

Now the final preview was coming to a close (something about a young woman helping a friend through war trauma), and Bartz leaned eagerly forward for the feature presentation. A slow, gentle love song played over a black background, the title appearing after the first few lines. _Eyes on Me._ He wondered what kind of movie it was. Drama? Horror? Coming of age?

Half an hour late he knew, horrified, that he'd brought his boss to a romance. Specifically one dealing with the defiance of society for a forbidden love.

"Squall, I didn't –this wasn't –mmph!" Nervous, wide-eyed, he stared at his companion who now had a hand pressed over his mouth. Now with dating on the brain, he couldn't help but think he was going to be kissed when Squall leaned in close. Instead he was whispering again at his ear.

"We weren't here together."

Blinking, Bartz allowed himself to be lead stealthily from the theater. They got one or two rude catcalls whose meaning made him blush, but their getaway went mostly unnoticed.

Once out, he had to ask, "Why didn't you just tell me it was a chick flick?" He was hushed until they were safely in an abandoned side hall. Then, after an exasperated sigh, Squall answered.

"I assumed you did your research," he said dryly with a pointed look, "You're the one who asked me."

Squirming a little, Bartz said the first thing that came to mind. "Yeah, but you didn't have to accept!" Wait. That hadn't come out right. "I mean, I'm happy you did, but why? It wasn't out of friendship," he guessed.

The other looked away for a long, uncomfortable moment. "I meant to confirm your intentions. If you were letting some stupid crush get in the way of work, I would have you fired on the spot."

"That's a little harsh, don't you think?" he laughed awkwardly, "I mean, this was supposed to be a friendly outing. And even if I had… you know… wanted it to be something else, that'd be a rough way to let me know." Fishing for his phone in the cluttered pocket of his jacket, he missed Squall's expression, a fact he was quite thankful for. The situation didn't need to get any more awkward, thank-you-very-much. "'Hey, I hate you and you're jobless now'? You might want to practice a bit for when you get asked on a real date." A beep announced a missed call. Flipping open the cover, he pressed the button to take it.

Zidane's voice crackled through. Right away Bartz could tell something was wrong.

"Hey, Bartz, hate to cut short your date now that you're finally taking my advice," he began in a deceptively cheerful tone, "but we have a problem. You know that tree? Well it's an _ex-_tree now. It crashed into the office and almost took out the light. Get back as soon as you can, okay? Catch you later!"

"You have no more messages."

He felt like an idiot. Of course, the festival was tonight! _At least Cosmos is safe,_ he thought with an unconscious frown_, I guess Warrior of Light hasn't lost his stuff. I'd better swing by anyway, just to check things out. He is my 'nemesis', I guess._

"Sorry Squall, but I –"

The manager waved him away. "Be in at five."

He gratefully thanked him and tore off through the theater, ducking into an Employee's Only bathroom when nobody was looking. It took little effort to dismiss his clothes back to the base and dress himself as Klauser. Now came the hard part: the dye. He didn't have time to let it naturally dry, so he'd have to carefully blow dry it and hope it didn't end up too faint to hide the brown.

The costume change went without a hitch, and soon he was wriggling through the too-small window. Finally, freedom!

Until he looked down. Of course he'd be on the third floor. He scrambled to get back in, but in his panic he slipped and hung on loosening fingers, the sharp edges of the sill doing nothing to aid his grip. A flash of light from his hands and they now gripped a lance firmly lodged in between the stones that made up the side of the building.

Now relatively secure, Klauser tried the breathing exercises Dragonlancer had advised he use to calm down when faced with his agoraphobia. Now that he though about it, whatever happened to his friend? Last time he saw him was that misunderstanding with the stab wound….

Thinking about it gave him an idea. Klauser called another lance from his massive collection of weapons and jabbed it about a foot lower than the first. In this way he worked down the wall and collapsed into a puddle of shaking limbs and small hysterical giggles on the safety of ground.

_I'm alive, ha. I actually did it! Thanks, Lancer!_

Ready now to investigate the scene, he only paused long enough to clad his feet in his rocket-powered roller skates (to think Highwind had scoffed at the design! They were just as good as supercars, flying saucers, and airships! Better than them in fact. Because who ever heard of flying roller skates?) With them he was no more than a technicolor blur to the average joe. 'Average Joe' of course didn't apply to that freaky-eyed alien guy or Fenrir, what with their supersenses and all. And anyway, it wasn't like he'd be anywhere near them. With any luck he wouldn't run into a single villain.

Reporters, however, were another matter. He had to break hard to avoid crashing into one and that gave the others the chance to pounce.

"Klauser, is it true that Exdeath's mysterious right hand man showed his face?"

"No reports include you, does that mean you weren't there?"

"Is the Wild Rose a new identity you're taking on? Or an associate?"

"Wait –what –Wild –please, I need to speak with the governor!" Squirming his through the crowd of flashes and microphones, he arrived at the fancy doors that would take him into the lobby. Instead he was pulled into a closet the minute he stepped inside.

"Klauser." Now he was getting somewhere.

"Hey man, how'd your search work out for you?" he asked the austere cop he could just barely see in the limited light that streamed through the cracks in the doorway. A year back the man had shown up on one of his patrols and all but begged him for information about himself. Unfortunately, they hadn't met more than a handful of times before that.

From the way his shoulders slightly drooped, Klauser wasn't the only one who'd been less than helpful. "I'm afraid I'm no closer to my identity than I was when last we met," he replied, "I thank you though for what things you could tell me. It's… comforting that my favorite color is no different than it was before."

"Hey, no problem! I'm always happy to lend a hand. That's why I'm here, actually." The thought of what had nearly happened was sobering. "Sorry I wasn't here. I should've –" He cut himself off before the ex-super could. "Nevermind, it doesn't matter now. Look, is there anything you can tell me about what happened? Anything unusual?"

His time with Squall had taught him to catch subtle changes in expression. Puzzlement… unease…. Just what had he missed on his outing?

"A man saved Cosmos with his powers over plant life. I presume you know what this means?"

"Yeah," he agreed, a shiver running through him, "So that 'Wild Rose' guy the reporters mentioned –"

"Firion's Florals, on the corner of Oak Street and Brook Avenue. If you hurry you may reach him before he flees… or someone else does." Before Klauser even had time to react, his old colleague had shoved him out of the closet and through the doors. Fortunately for him, his reaction time was still better than the crowd's, and thus secured his escape.

Once clear, he flipped on his roller skates and zoomed off to the flower shop. He missed it at first thanks to its size, but managed to catch it on a second go. It was a cozy-looking place, worn but in a homey way. Little potted plants lined the steps up to a green door, above which hung a sign much like one would see at a tavern. The shop's name was written there in beautifully arched letters. The one thing out of place was the windows; screens blocked the view inside.

Well, no point in waiting. He strolled up to the door and rapped it twice before entering. The room appeared empty aside from the remains of a packing frenzy, but he knew better than to trust that. At least since that time he got jumped by an army of his own clones. A few steps in and his suspicions were confirmed. The door had been slammed shut by the young man known as Firion. A man who, thanks to the bow he held taut and ready, didn't look nearly as helpless as Klauser had assumed.

Even if he could fight, the situation didn't look good. Firion had silver hair –real, as his salon experience told him –and skin that was a light mocha. A very conspicuous combination. Especially when combined with his towering height and the small horns peeking out of his skull. He needed all the relocation help he could get.

"Klauser…!" gasped Firion, lowering his bow immediately and depositing it on a table.

"Warrior of Light told me you were in a jam. Need some help?" At the florist's grateful nod he stepped up to him and tapped the horns. "First things first, you might want to hide your thorns, Mr. Wild Rose."

Mouthing his advice in confusion, Firion felt where Klauser had indicated. His eyes widened.

"I guess you didn't know then?" Receiving another mute nod, he decided to assume the other was completely out of the loop. "Hey Firion, you're pretty good with plants, right? Were you always this good?"

"No, I wasn't," he confessed, hand unconsciously drifting to a piece of embroidery on his breast pocket, "I used to be terrible in fact. After my hair turned white I –wait, are you saying I have powers?"

"Yeah. As long as you were only using them to supplement your green thumb, the only physical manifestation was your hair. But now that you… did whatever it was, you've got those horns. You should probably hide both, by the way. Dye, a wig…?"

Instead Firion riffled through a cupboard marked 'Special', finally pulling out a few headscarves. These he wrapped around his head in what was almost a turban, explaining, "I've tried to dye it back to black, but none of the brands work. And the last time I wore a wig I got a terrible rash that lasted weeks." He sighed helplessly, knowing all too well that there was no way he could hide.

_Well._ That wouldn't do, if Klauser did say so himself. "Don't worry, I'll help you disappear from Exdeath's radar! You're actually lucky it was him, in a way. He doesn't like sharing info with other villains, so we'll only have to hide you from one guy!"

"Other… villains?" Now Firion was acting strangely again. He peered around the screen of the closest window, choking as he did so. "Klauser," he murmured, stressed and fearful in tone, "I think another villain knows. A man came into my shop this afternoon, and afterwards all of this started. I think he knew about my powers."

"Let me guess, he's coming this way?" Klauser tip-toed over and attempted to peek through with him. Instead he was grabbed and shoved under a table behind stacks of empty pots. "Hey, what are you –"

"I can't put you in harm's way for my lost cause! Stay here till he's gone!"

"I can protect you –"

"You should stay –" The door creaked open and both froze.

"'Should stay', Firion?" the Emperor's voice came drawling from the entrance.

Klauser was beginning to think he should've just stayed in bed.

* * *

><p>This has to have been my favorite chapter to write.<p>

One thing I ought to mention is Klauser's powers: they're meant to reflect what he does with his weapons in Dissidia, so it's a weird kind of telekinesis. So long as he can picture an object's location (and the object is actually there), he can make it appear in his hands.


	6. Chapter 2, Part 2: Domesticated Rose

AN: Since it's been so long, I figured I should probably start off with an author's note. Here's the deal: the plan is to continue where I left off with this story and try to actually get it done.

Unfortunately, that means that anyone still reading this will have to deal with a couple updates worth of what I already had written… as well as a somewhat different execution, since past me had far too much faith in my ability to remember the details. Never fear, I remember the important stuff!... about the main stories. I'd originally planned to delve into events as certain side characters experienced them but that's no longer feasible or even desirable in regards to my plans with this story. For example, I mentioned in earlier an earlier note that I would be including Prishe/Terra when in all likelihood Prishe won't be appearing at all.

At least it will be a more cohesive story?

Chapter 2.2: Domesticated Rose

Firion's blood froze but still he tried to bluff it out. Rising to his feet, he picked up the bow his sister had gotten him as a joke once (from what he could make out amongst the snickers of her and her friends, it was the finishing touch to transform him into a dryad) and raised it shakily to point at his unwanted visitor.

"Would you truly ignore a potential customer?" For his part, the other man ignored the weapon and stepped closer. "'Should stay'?"

He had opened his mouth, unsure even of what he planned to say, when the mewl of a contented cat drifted out from behind him. It followed by a lapping sound, as if grooming were taking place, and a ball of twine was batted out from behind the mess.

_Good thinking, Klauser._ Out loud he played along. "Good girl, Maria. I'll feed you as soon as I… finishing straightening up." He couldn't help but wince at how bad his acting was; hopefully the man would assume he was merely dreading cleaning up the disorder still left from his frenzied, last-minute arranging. Hopefully it wouldn't be too obvious he was preparing to flee. Looking around at the half-packed suitcase and food emptied from the refrigerator, he didn't see how it was possible not to notice.

Too sophisticated to laugh straight in his face, the white-suited man nevertheless chuckled. "An excellent performance, Klauser. However, we're all busy man, so why don't you come out so we may do business?"

"It figures you were watching," the hero grumbled as he crawled out with a doily tied over his face, "You were waiting for a superhero to drop by, weren't you?"

While Firion had lived in Dissidiapolis for some time and was aware that, being a city specifically founded for supers, it had certain laws in place to keep the power balanced between the two groups, he had never bothered to learn the specifics. He could only hope that Klauser would be able to protect him in whatever followed.

"As you well know, a hero, a villain, and a civilian must all be present in order for any two to negotiate. I had hoped for the Warrior of Light, but we must make do with what we are given, must we not?" the villain sneered, purposely letting slip his disgust at the man before him. "I suppose I can expect chiffon dresses next, and lacy gloves."

A blush spread across Klauser's cheeks, still visible even with the doily in place. "Hey, what's wrong with doilies?!" he cried defensively. Firion could all but hear a bell ringing, end match, at the disdainfully arched brow that was his reply. "Anyway, what do you even want? I'm not letting you hurt Firion or use him or whatever." Though this was again met with superiority, he couldn't help but feel awed by how noble Klauser looked when he asserted this. The effect wasn't even marred by the presence of the doily.

Obviously not impressed, the villain turned to Firion. "I'm here to make a proposition, Mr. Salamond."

"And why should I listen to your demands? I may not be a hero, but I won't cave to villains!" Thought away from where it could do harm at his side, his grip tightened on his bow.

"A shame to hear." Firion watched suspiciously. The villain was showing no signs of concern over his statement. "An interesting name you chose for your 'cat'. Tell me, how has your sister been?"

_Maria? How does he-_

Klauser forced his way between them and aimed a stern finger right at the other's nose. "You can't use foul play during negotiations!" His protest, however, was waved off.

"'Foul play'? I don't believe I mentioned such a thing at any point in our conversation," he said smoothly with a deceptively genteel smile, "I am aware you missed the wedding, Firion, but I would never hurt my belovéd wife."

His thoughts ground to a half. This… this man… he was-

"Mateus Palamecia…?"

It was once again Klauser's turn to be shocked. "Wait, Palamecia? You mean the guy that took over Orelia? _That_ Mateus Palamecia?"

The man whom he now knew as Mateus had an unholy gleam in his eye. "Now, now, _brother,_ it's dreadful manner to unmask one's own kin."

"You're one to talk about family! After what you did-" The hero was breezily interrupted by Mateus.

"I shall make this brief." His attention was again focused on Firion, his back now turned insultingly on the hero he'd waited for. "Firion Salamond, you are not to leave this location. Any attempt to do so will result in your immediate termination, and that of those most dear to you." His eyes flicked to where Klauser had angrily stepped forward. "You, Klauser, are not to reveal a word of this meeting beyond your agreement to my terms or you will able to expect the same to occur, in addition to this entire city being blown off the map." A sardonic smirk crossed his face at the expressions he was seeing. "Naturally you will gain something as well. This shop will be a neutral ground –my influence shall keep other powered visitors courteous. So, do we have a deal?"

Thinking of the technology Orelia possessed and the access Mateus had to those he loved made his answer come quickly, if not easily. "It's not as if I have any choice," Firion growled. Klauser voiced his own reluctant acceptance.

"And here I was worried that you wouldn't see reason. It would be just terrible, would it not, if our relationship were to start off on the wrong foot. Take this," he ordered, depositing a medallion in Firion's hands, "So long as you wear this, no villains will dare approach you with menace."

"Yeah, 'cause you're marking him like he's your property!" Klauser protested. His body language read like a cornered animal. Then again, Firion doubted he looked much different.

Mateus laughed pleasantly, looking for all the world like the perfect gentleman sharing a joke with friends rather than the conniving demon he'd appeared throughout the discussion. "Oh, but he is my property." The hand that the villain wasn't gripping his cane with landed on the head of said 'property' and idly ran a fingertip around the goat-like nubs that had so mysteriously grown in.

And Firion could do nothing but stand still and take it, lest he set off his villainous brother-in-law, even as they tingled uncomfortably and his belly filled with a nervous impatience that begged him to run or fight or do anything besides what he was. _I really am his 'property'_, he thought in disgust.

Mateus finally had his fill and made his exit, calling over his shoulder as he left, "I await our next encounter with bated breath, my dear Firion."

_I don't._ He shuddered, rubbing at the sensitive horns. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Klauser fidgeting anxiously. Removing the doily, he used it to wipe away the sweat that had formed around his brow. Doe-like brown eyes met Firion's own, filled with absolute concern.

"Don't worry," he tried to reassure him, "I'm sure he hasn't hurt her." Really he wasn't sure; when two months ago he received his invitation to the wedding, the accompanying letter seemed tense. In addition to the rushed ceremony, that had been the last letter she sent him. But if she didn't want to marry Palamecia, then why didn't she just refuse? And if she couldn't, what did the man want with his sister?

Klauser on the other hand had a more informed reason to fear. "I wouldn't count on it, Firion. That guy is bad news."

"Yes, I heard about the insurrection in Orelia-"

"Not just that." The super nibbled at his lip. Nervousness, from the fountain of feel-good energy that was Klauser? Firion was beginning to think things were somehow even worse that he'd imagined. "You see, the Palamecias… they were a whole family of supervillains. Sorcerers and stuff. Anyway, that guy was some sort of prodigy –usually they're all called 'Palamecia', he's known as 'Emperor'- so he was gonna take over as head."

"So you're saying my brother-in-law is in charge of a family of super-villains?" He felt sick, especially thinking of what Maria might be forced to do.

Klauser shook his head vigorously, dropping a hand onto his shoulder. "That's just it, he _isn't._ At the ceremony to take over he killed everyone! And he got Orelia's throne by backstabbing the family that took him in! I wouldn't exactly trust him when it comes to family."

Before either could say more, Klauser's cellphone rang. As he answered it, Firion realized that the one on the other end must be from Klauser's personal life. He wondered if they knew who he was or what kind of situation he was in now.

After a short, mostly one-sided conversation, it was with an apologetic smile that he excused himself from the shop. The super left his number with him, along with those of the Crescendo, Dragonlancer, the Dark Knight, Paladin (though he confessed Paladin could only be reached when the moon was full), and the Reaper should he ever need backup.

Now alone in his haven turned prison, he looked around in dismay at the mess. Since running away was now out of the question he'd have to put everything away. And then there were the spare flowers and pots and twine….

Firion deemed his day too long and exhausting to deal with any clean-up. Instead he made his way to the display in the back corner, proud despite its location. Here were the blooms that drew his insidious brother-in-law to his humble little shop. His beautiful blue roses.

Candy Blue. Mid-Ocean. Turquoise Gem. Indigo Sigh. It was a partially wilted Midnight Rose he finally drew from the shelf. Almost throwing it out, an idea struck him mid-turn.

_Cosmos must have assumed I was a superhero back when I tried to help her. And now Klauser is telling me I have powers related to plants. Maybe I could…._ He ran his hand over its form, unsure of what he was supposed to be doing, and stroked the dark, velvety petals. _Grow, _he willed it, _Flourish._

At first it seemed nothing had happened. Then he noticed firmer edges on the petals and vibrant color returning to its leaves. Seeming to enjoy his increased attention, the bloom all but exploded outwards. Soon each petal was the size of his palm and even larger leaves curled lovingly around his wrists.

Something brushed his leg. Looking down, he found a vine slinking across the floor. Following it back to it source, he was shocked to see his entire shop overgrown with all manner of flowers. Sighing, he added it to the list of things to take care of later. For now he was just too tired to even think about it.

Instead, he decided to write to Maria. Now, what would be the best wording to keep Palamecia from knowing what they were talking about?

A few minutes later he sat in what space he could find at one of the tables, choosing to write with a quill as it indicated worry in the code they'd developed as children, and began.

_Dear Sis,_

_It's been awhile, hasn't it? How have you been?_

_Business has been booming lately! I provided arrangements for a local historical celebration sponsored by Governor Cosmos herself. You wouldn't believe all the people I met because of that! One of the them introduced himself as my brother-in-law. It's a shame he caught me at such a hectic time –I'm afraid I was rude._

_Speaking of which, how's married life going for you? It must be hard to get used to, especially in a strange country like Orelia. Is it true that they combine technology with ancient magic?_

_I know you're probably busy, but if you can find the time I'd appreciate a reply. It feels like we haven't spoken in years._

_Your brother,_

_Firion_

Now he could only wait and hope.


End file.
