Word from the Author

Hello, and welcome to the epic story of Final Fantasy VIII! You may have read about, or even played through, this adventure yourselves and seen this tale first hand. Well, if you expect to read an accurate retelling of this tale, then you've come to the wrong place! A story that was once expressed with such pain and emotion is retold in a much more light-hearted style. This is, and will remain to be, Final Fantasy VIII: How It (Probably) Really Went.

Now, I pride myself on having a much more sophisticated humour. Here, you will not find cheap fart gags and sexual innuendos.

"Hey, what's going on over here?"

"Zell, I'm busy introducing the story, can you please go away."

"Dude, dude, wait. Do you smell that? I just cut one! Silent but deadly..."

"Zell, I said I didn't want fart gags and sexual... Oh my god! What the hell have you eaten?"

"Hey, I got a question; do you like bananas?"

"Sure. Why?"

"Hey Seifer, he likes bananas!"
"Ask him where he parks his car!"

"Zell! Seifer! Please, just... I'm gonna kick your skinny little white ass!"

Roll titles.

Prologue

There you stand on a white sandy beach. The waves lap against the sand. It's all so peaceful. Just for a moment, everything makes sense and you can relax. But this is a Final Fantasy story; you know that in a moment, nothing's going to make sense. Enter mysterious voice.

"I'll be here," calls a voice from afar.

This raises some questions, mainly "who the hell is talking?"

The voice calls out again, "I'll be waiting here."

Wait, where the hell's here?

"I'll be waiting for you... So... If you come here..."

Wait, this is getting interesting.

"...You'll find me."

And...?

"I promise."

...And...?

His mind focused. He couldn't afford to lose focus. If he lost focus then he couldn't focus on the thing he was supposed to be focusing on. A young man, still a teenager, stood in the middle of a barren waste land. He flicked back his brown hair and brought himself back to reality. His weapon had been knocked out of his hand and was currently standing in the ground, the handle sticking upwards.

"That went better than expected," he thought to himself.

He looked up at his opponent. He had a smug grin on his face, overly proud with himself. The joke was on him; he was the one with a bad fashion sense. What kind of person wears a white trench coat anyway, he looked like a lab assistant. He had slick blond hair with just a little flick of hair that hung over his face. It was apparently called "style". To most people though, it was called "ridiculous". He advanced at the brown haired man. Their weapons met. Both men used a unique weapon called a "gunblade". It was an odd cross between a sword and a gun. The handle was that of a firearm, while the rest of it was a blade from a sword. Some would wonder why, in a world of guns, someone would choose this as a weapon. Some, on the other hand, would rather not aggravate the people who have such a dangerous weapon; some would leave them to it and just call them "special" behind their backs, i.e. the smart people. The clang of metal still resonated through the air. They swung back their weapons and sliced at their opponent again. Once, twice, three times their blades met. They danced around the battlefield like it was some sort of overly aggressive tango they were doing.

"Come on, chicken wuss, are you actually gonna land a shot," said the blond haired man, smirking. He held out his hand and beckoned the brown haired man forward.

"Oh, it's on like Donkey Kong..." The brown haired man lunged forward. Their blades hit again and again.

"We're not really getting anywhere, are we?" panted the blond haired man.

"Surely we can settle this another way? Chess maybe?" said the brown haired man.

"Sure, chess is good."

The two men settled down to a quiet game of chess. They set up their pieces.

"I'll be white," said the brown haired man.

"Whoa, wait, I want to be white!" exclaimed the blond haired man.

"You were white last time!"
"Shut up! No I wasn't!"

"You wanna start something?" the brown haired man stood up, inflating his chest.

"You wanna start, we can start? It's on like Donkey Kong!"

The brown haired man paused, "wait, I already used that line."

"Oh, sorry. Fine, it's on like... like... Stuff this, it's on!"

The two men picked up their weapons and continued to clash. They both dipped and dived as the other slashed frantically. The brown haired man swung hard and hit the blond haired man with force. Luckily, he used his gunblade as a substitute shield. Again and again the brown haired man hit, the blond one cowering.

"Do you ever let anyone else have a go? God knows what you're like in bed," the blond haired man broke free from the oncoming attacks and swung violently. The brown haired man barely had time to jump out of the way. He ran forward, but the blond haired man was too quick; he had conjured up a fire ball and aimed it squarely at the brown haired man. It hit his gunblade hard and he was thrown to the ground. He was dazed. The blond haired man loomed over him, a smug grin etched on his face. The brown haired man didn't know what was coming next. Some would think this was the end of the fight. Some would think the blond haired man would offer his hand to the brown haired man and pull him to his feet. Some would think it would go "bam chicka wow wow". But, unfortunately, it didn't. He raised his gunblade and swung down, slashing at his face. Like a volcano, blood erupted from the newly formed wound.

"Dude, that really hurt."
"Oh I'm so sorry. Does it hurt?"

"Yeah of course it does," tears welled in the brown haired man's face, "no need to be so aggressive."

"I'm sorry; want me to kiss it better?"

"Wait, what?"

"Er, I said, want me too, er... It's on like Donkey Kong!"

The brown haired man stood up and swung his own gunblade, dragging it across the ground, and sliced at his opponents face.

"An eye for an eye. Or should I say a gash for a gash."

"That was awful, that wasn't even a joke."

It was only at this point that the brown haired man realised he had actually lost quite a lot of blood. Woozy, and a little bit humiliated after having been heckled, the brown haired man collapsed and fell unconscious. The last thing he heard was the blond haired man saying "it's all right, chicks dig scars."