Just Focus (FFXIII)

1) The Purge

I turn back to the destruction erupting before me. Why are they murdering the very people they were intent on sending away "for the sake of Cocoon?" What about the Purge? It doesn't add up. I shake my head, toying with the baggy sleeves on my arms. The crowd begins to gather in a cluster as the man and his party arrive, wielding guns and carrying plenty of extras. These ruffians want civilians involved, too? I stand in the back line of the others, arms crossed tightly over my chest. The man in the trench coat, towering high above the rest of us, scans over the crowd with clear pride, tucking a strand of blonde hair back under his tight black cap.

"You all okay?" he asks, voice gentler than I expected. A boy about my age stumbles behind him, a pile of loaded guns skittering across the pavement. I cringe, expecting a bullet to pierce my skull at any moment. "Hey, careful with those," the man grits, though his smile is playful as if he's looking down at a younger brother. He turns to us once more.

"Don't worry, no one's moving to Pulse today. We'll clear you a path outta here, so be ready to—"

"Wait!" A bearded man protests, leaping to his feet. "Let me fight with you!"

"Yeah, you can't expect us to just sit here!" another shouts. The man in the trench coat turns to the orange-haired giant who helped us off the train.

"Could help."

"Yep."

"Please," the bearded man begs, stepping closer. "Let us help." Another explosion sets off in the distance and the people around me grow uneasy.

"Okay then," Trench Coat gives in. "Volunteers front and center."

Men and women alike flood toward the man, taking up guns cautiously and waiting for his direction. Even a mother, tearing herself away from her robed son, takes up arms, nodding her affirmation to the leader when he questions her decision. The orange-haired man hands the last gun to Trench Coat, who takes it and nears us.

"Alright, last one. Somebody take it." He lowers it to a boy seated on the ground, who scrambles away with wide eyes, panicked. It's the same boy whose mother volunteered to fight, I note.

"N-no... I can't."

"Here!" a girl says, throwing her arms open wide and kneeling before the blonde. Sighing, he hands it over. The girl turns the firearm over and over in her hands, grinning like a fool.

"Push comes to shove, keep 'em safe," Trench Coat says warmly, winking.

"Bang!" the girl replies, pretending to shoot him. They laugh it off and Trench Coat leaves, leading his new battalion down the road. My stomach turns uneasily.

I sigh, pacing the tracks restlessly as the others fight their way through troops. The people who escaped scatter about this secured section, talking hopelessly with each other. Several more take off their robes, freed from the Purge's grasp on them. Tired of their weight, I follow suit, tugging on my bunched shorts and stretching my arms over my head. If I'm to die here, I might as well die free from PSICOM control. I shudder; the thought makes me sick.

I come to a stop behind the boy whose mother left, watching as he leans against the railing of the bridge, clutching it so tightly that his knuckles turn white. His face is obscured by the robe's hood, though I can tell he's anxious. I can see the group that left from here, along with the sparks of gunfire and the people who fail to survive their wounds. From above, the forces drop a gargantuan beast of glimmering white and green skin; I hold my breath.

It claws through the fighters as if they're nothing but insects. Trench Coat and his two supporters fire at the behemoth until it collapses, fallen. Energized, the others push on, firing at the remaining PSICOM soldiers. The fighting stops when an enormous warship pulls out in front of them, raining down bullets that instantly kill all those without cover.

Trench Coat dives across the tracks, reaching for a gun only to miss. Instead of getting up, however, he lays there helplessly. My fists clench at my sides and suddenly I find myself standing beside the boy and gripping the railing just as he is. As the ship readies to fire on the rebel, a rocket bursts into the ship's hull, causing a chain explosion. The mother of the boy drops her launcher and pulls Trench Coat to his feet. Careful. A sudden burst from the ship explodes into a fiery blast behind them. The smoke and the fire obstruct my view as the track collapses, dumping countless soldiers and rebels alike into the black abyss below. My heart skips a beat. What if that's how my parents met their end?

"What's he doing?" I hiss, leaning further out to see the man dangling over the edge and gripping the woman's wrist as she hangs over the edge. Seconds later, she goes limp, easily slipping from his grasp; my heart catches in my throat.

"No!" screams the boy to my right, throwing out his trembling hand desperately.

With a panicked shout, Trench Coat, too, falls down, down, down. Only, he hits the ground safely. The boy's mother is long gone, and her son knows it, his breaths ragged as he stumbles away from the rail. The girl who took the last gun comes up on his other side, gently taking hold of his shoulder. Another blast comes from the side and the girl tugs on his hand.

"Come on!" The boy doesn't budge; my grip loosens on the railing. With a huff, the girl grabs his shoulders to straighten him and slaps him across the face. "We have to move!"

"A-alright," the boy stammers, letting her drag him away. The end of the bridge rattles and I run after them, never one to sit still when my life's on the line. I can't face this alone, not with this buffoon as the leader of the resistance.

As we run back to the main group, a siren wails out, echoing through the massive spaces that surround us. I turn to see the skies start to pull open, revealing black trapdoors.

"Attention Purge deportees. Attention Purge deportees. Put down your weapons and surrender immediately. Your removal is the will of the people of Cocoon. Should you attempt to flee, the Sanctum will employ every resource necessary to bring you to justice." And by that, you mean you'll kill us. An enormous structure drops down through the open hole, the exact picture of a fal'Cie I remember studying in school. My heart falls to my feet. "This land is no longer your home. Cease hostilities and surrender at once."

The boy beside me sheds his robes and the girl follows suit, freeing her peachy orange pigtails from the hood and revealing her colorful, beaded attire. It's unlike anything I've ever seen-even her airy accent is something entirely unique. She flashes a bright smile, picking up the gun Trench Coat gave to her and walking toward us.

"Here," she says, shoving the weapon into the boy's hands. The spiked layers in his silver hair bounce as he shakes his head. Silently, she comes closer and wraps her thin arms around him. "It's too much, isn't it?" she coos, patting the back of his head. Quickly, she steps away with a determined nod. "Face it later."

"But..."

"Ciao!" she squeals, giggling as she runs away. Curious, I brush past the boy, shrugging when he frowns at me, and follow her. I can hear the thump of his shoes when he decides to do the same moments later.

"Hey! Wait!"