This is a meta-fic tribute to the amazing Ikonopeiston… this fic, entitled Another Confessional, is parallel to her fic The Confessional where she documents Nooj's thoughts in a journal style through the Crimson Squad training. Here, I am documenting the same events in the same fashion, except as typed from the fingers of 16-year-old Gippal. Enjoy!

P.S. The dates at the beginnings of the various entries into this journal are to be read as: year of the current Sin, month, day. So 197S9.8.42 is – the forty-second day of the eighth month of the ninth year of the one hundred ninety seventh mythical incarnation of Sin. (This is a system developed by Ikonopeiston, and I am following in her footsteps here.) Also, ahorizonatal lineindicates that there is a long break of time before the entry was continued.

P.P.S. There's a lot of Al Bhed in this fic, simple one-word segments. I've left translations out, but usually they're curses. 'Tyshat zuinhym!' means Damned journal!, 'lidea' means cutie, and 'cred' is the excremental curse word. They're usually not important and I'm not going to throw in any three-page dialogues of untranslated Al Bhed in here.


Part One


Tyshat zuinhym! Ugh, it's impossible to type in Al Bhed on this thing. The letters are all in the wrong place… I should just give up. I've got to get better at Spiran anyway if I'm going to fool these people.

Who am I kidding? They're all gonna know I'm Al Bhed. I should even just stop wearing the darkened goggles. It'll make it easier to see, anyway… I need to be able to see. I never could shoot straight with the goggles on.

Stupid eye. Stupid fuel injector.


Anyway, so I ran away. I couldn't stand the kidnapping Summoners gig, so I got out. Well, I tried to get out. They wouldn't let me leave until their 'mission' was over… it's all so pointless. It doesn't get anything accomplished, and it meant I had to hang out with Summoners whining about how evil we all are. WE ARE NOT EVIL. I'll bet the guys are just pissed that their top engineer just stood up and walked off in the middle of an ambush.

I just don't get it. What good does it do? Kidnap the Summoners, listen to them whine about 'the good of Spira', put them all in a room where they summon their big pets, and then they wind up trashing the place and getting away anyway. If they're gonna run off and throw themselves at Sin, let them. Their choice, even if it is the stupidest thing ever. We've all done stupid things; at least they're doing useful stupid things.

So, anyway, here I am at some Crusaders recruiting camp. I signed in and they didn't even look at me funny, which is reassuring, I guess. Usually the Crusaders don't take Al Bhed, but since they're talking about forming some new force, I guess they're desperate enough for the heathens. They're assigning us into small teams with a recorder… I can't believe these Yevonites are consenting to the use of machina recorders. I thought they'd sooner shoot themselves than lay a hand on anything automated. Well, whatever, I'm sure Yevon's hiding plenty of secrets in their little palace in Bevelle.

I guess it's back to waiting for my assignment. After that, we get weapons. I hope I get something good.


Assignments! My squad leader… he's half-machina! I can't stop staring and I think it pisses him off – serves him right; he acts like he's got a gearshift jammed up his yccruma.

! He probably does! He's half-machina!

I wonder if his insides are made of machina too… I mean, some of them would have to be, unless it was some sort of complicated shielding mechanism. I doubt that… there aren't such things in existence. Yeah, we tried to make them, but they always exploded at the most inopportune times…

…unless he has a working one…

…no. Looking at him, that can't be it. That's a machina leg. It has to be! He tries to hide it with that clothing and that boot, but clearly his disguise is not working. I can see it. And his arm… his whole shoulder. It's all machina. How is this possible? I've heard of prosthetic limbs being more extensively developed, but usually people can't walk with them, they're only for show. Is this some new prototype they've somehow managed to develop without me? And this guy isn't even an Al Bhed! How did he get his hands on something like that?

Bastards. Well, I'd be shot and my body's water reclaimed if I didn't take this opportunity to watch and learn how machina and human interact.

But, there's bad news. I'm in a team with a Yevonite, a filthy little weakling. He wears this long, inefficient green robe thing. He's a pretty boy, the kind we call vubc… he looks so little, but he's actually taller than I am. That's part of the problem. He just looks little, but then I find that I have to tilt my head a little to look at him in those gross cred-brown eyes. Frustrating. Why does a Yevonite have to be taller than me? It's not fair.

And, we've got a recorder, too, but they're all late.

I have to try to be civil to this Yevonite. If I can be civil to him – he is a lidea, after all, even if he has dirty skin; being nice to look at makes anyone bearable – that means I get to stay around Machina Man.

Oh, yeah, we got weapons. Mine needs some work. It's a really simple double-barrel handgun… small, but it could have some kick if things worked properly. I don't know where the weapons master got his supplies from, but it sure wasn't a reliable Al Bhed contractor. This thing is a piece of garbage. I'm going to take it apart later and see what I can salvage. I've got some extra parts, so I think I can really get it to work nicely.


Bored, bored, bored. Took apart the gun – Riva, I've decided to call her – and put her back together three times. Each time, she runs smoother. Yevonites get more and more incompetent the more I see of their machina…

Nooj, the Machina Man, is gone. I don't know where he went, but when I woke up, he was off somewhere. The Yevonite, I still don't know his name, got up and went off somewhere with his gun, acting all irritated.

Yevonites are fun to irritate. He didn't like my whistling! What is he, tone-deaf?

I probably should make sure he doesn't get eaten by a passing fiend, but maybe that might be for the better. I mean, with the way he nearly dropped his gun when it was handed to him, I think he might sooner shoot one of us accidentally than shoot any enemies on purpose. Maybe he has other uses. I can think of a couple…

…damned conscience.

He is a lidea. He seems so small… it's no wonder. He's got really tiny, shaky arms. Can't even hold his gun properly… a shame. I think he's scared of me. Heh.

But, anyway, as part of what I've deemed my ongoing attempts to survive the Crimson Squad tryouts, I showed him how to use it. I don't think he's ever held a machina before in his life – his eyes were all wide and he was staring at it like it was going to bite him. He almost dropped it again! Good thing it wasn't loaded – I even had to teach him how to do that. How basic can you get?

Heh. He really is a vub, though. He turned all weird-looking when I told him that his gun was a 'she'. So I named it Pahho for him – I've never met a woman with the name Pahho – and that seemed to calm him down. I should've known no lidea that pretty would be into women. If I slept with Yevonites – which I don't, they probably have all sorts of diseases – I'd go after him. He'd be easy.

It's only been three days that I've been here and already I'm runho. Man, there'd better be a chick recorder assigned to us or I really am going to start considering the Yevonite.

…what was his name? Man, I'm terrible with names. Uh… started with an L or something…

Baralai! That was the name. I'm never going to remember that, so now, he's just Lai. I think it insults him that I call him by a nickname. I think he also gets mortally offended when I look at him.

Anyway, we've got a chick for a recorder. Her name – get this – is Paine. I seriously had to stop myself from snorting when I heard that. What kind of name is that for a recorder? The only pain she's going to be causing is probably going to involve tight-fitting leather and whips. She's wearing bondage straps for clothes!

…I bet she does women on a regular basis. I'll have to show her how things should be done. I bet she's never been with an Al Bhed before. Once you go Al Bhed, you never go back! That's Nhadala's joke… I wonder what she's doing now. Probably doing more digging around for treasure, that was always her favorite pastime. I wish I could dig for treasure in her—

I would say I need to stop thinking about sex, but I'm not a prude. I will say that it's not doing me any good. I need to sleep after this long day of the Noojster – that's his nickname, though I'll probably never say it to his face – barking at me like I'm some kind of incompetent rodent. If he keeps that up, I'll take him apart while he sleeps. Wouldn't that be a lovely thing to wake up to in the morning?

I wonder if he could feel it if I did that. Hmm. Maybe I'll hint that I could be his personal engineer – for once I don't mean that in the most dirty sense possible – and then I can find out all the answers. I wouldn't even mind cleaning sand out of the connectors if I can get that much closer. It would be beneficial to him – especially if he didn't really get those prosthetics from the Al Bhed; if they're Yevon-made stuff, they're probably just as badly put-together as Riva was – and no one can resist my charms anyway. Noojster, you will not be able to resist. Ha!