A Face in the Crowd

AUTHOR'S NOTES: WARNING! Selphie-fans should refrain from reading this fic. If you insist, don't flame me, okay? It's not my fault you decided to read it. Anyway, if you don't have problems, enjoy! ^_^

"Good morning, Balamb Garden students, this is Headmaster Cid Kramer speaking. I wish to remind you about the upcoming Autumn Festival. Students who wish to volunteer in the Festival Committee should report to Selphie Tilmitt immediately. As much as possible, please refrain from entering the quad, as festival preparations will be held there. Thank you."

With a ding, the elevator doors opened simultaneously with the intercom chime, and I stepped out into the Garden lobby, where several students milled about, chatting about the much-awaited Autumn Festival.

I watched with amusement as Irvine Kinneas rubbed his cheek tenderly where the girl had just slapped him.

I picked up my pace, striding towards the cafeteria and hoping they still would have some hotdogs left over.

As I entered the eatery, I spotted Squall Leonhart initiating a Triple Triad Card Game with one of the Trepies. I can’t believe that guy. He’s so cold, unfeeling and formal. Creeps the hell outta ya.

I nearly plowed into Zell Dincht at the counter while I was watching Squall. I must have been highly conspicuous, because he turned around and grinned at me.

What was just “a few” actually turned out to be a dozen. I could barely suppress my amazement as Zell thanked the lady, picked up the tray and headed towards an empty table. Whoa. That guy must really love hotdogs!

“How may I help you?” the cafeteria lady greeted. There was something strangely familiar about her…her youthful cheerfulness, her spiky blond hair, her oddly glowing eyes…Must be a radiation thing. I wonder if it’s safe to order food from her…But anyway, I just can’t put my finger on it…

I drummed my fingers on the counter while the girl turned to fetch me my softdrink. I blinked in surprise as she set a Coke can in front of me.

She stood there smiling for a few minutes, so I asked, “Um…where’s my hotdog?”

She shook her head. “We don’t have any. The guy there bought the last dozen.”

I sighed heavily and tossed some gil on the counter. “When’s your next batch of hotdogs?”

I shook my head sadly and sighed. So much for breakfast. Grabbing my Coke, aka Coca-Cola, I turned and headed towards the exit. Hmm…perhaps I’ll just reheat some of my leftover food last night.

What?! You don’t recognize who I am?! You’ve gotten this far and you have no idea who I am?! Oh boy…

Remember the guy who graduated with Squall Leonhart, Zell Dincht and Selphie Tilmitt?

Yes, I am Nida. Nida Cristophe to be precise. And no, my mother did not mistake me for a baby girl.

Many say I have a blurry face. That I’m fuzzy and out of focus. Actually, I prefer graphically inferior and scantily detailed. And I can’t help it if I’m cast as a face in the crowd who is unworthy of stunning full motion video sequences. Which I deem is quite unjust, because I have helped save the world from the clutches of the megalomaniac sorceress Ultimecia. And don’t forget, in the SeeD exam, I got grades second only to Squall’s.

But then again, I’m even lucky to be named. Girl with Pigtails, Braided Girl and Arrogant Guy have often complained to me at the library that not having an identity was downright demeaning and undignified. And also, it makes them feel like props. So, I guess I’m quite fortunate in that aspect.

Anyway, as I headed towards my dorm room, a vague apprehension was weighing my mind. A foreboding thought…as if danger was ready to strike at anytime.

At the corner of my eye, I spotted a swift movement at the next hallway. A fleeting shadow perhaps…but I wasn’t paying too much attention. I was practically starving.

With a sigh, I unlocked the door to my dorm with my keycard, yearning for food. Perhaps I’ll have some baked macaroni today, or some frozen pizza…Or maybe…

It was at that moment that I saw it on the floor.

“Are you certain you didn’t touch the body as soon as you arrived in your room?”

In the space of several minutes, my quiet, homey dorm room had transformed into a public art museum, with the dead body on the floor as its main feature. Homicide investigators watched on as photographers snapped pictures of the body. At the same time, several Garden students were crowding at the door, eager to get a good look at the victim…that is, if there was still something good to look at.

“I know you can’t concentrate very well, Mr. Cristophe,” the first investigator said, noticing my meandering gaze, “having discovered in your room the body of your classmate, Selphoe Tilmatt.”

“Whatever, “ Investigator No. 1 said. “Anyway, this is serious. Ms. Telmett has been found dead in your room with a large hunting knife protruding out of her back, near where her heart is. For all we know, you might have murdered her.”

“I’m just saying that you’re one of our suspects,” Investigator No. 1 told me. “That is, until we’ve checked your alibi and proven you innocent.”

“But I do have an alibi!” I interjected. “I spent the whole dawn in the Garden flight control center, from 12:00 midnight to 7 in the morning. Then, I went to cafeteria to buy some breakfast. Ask Xu! Ask Zell! Ask the cafeteria lady!”

Investigator No. 1 stared seriously at him. “We will. Anyway, is Selphe Talmott your girlfriend or something?”

I practically retched. “H-her?! Get real! Of course not! And anyway, it’s Selphie Tilmitt!”

I thought for a while. “Well, Irvine Kinneas is dating her, so I guess they’re a couple.”

“I’ve sent one of my comrades earlier to question him. Tell me,” Investigator No. 1 said. “Why do you suppose someone would want to kill Selfee?”

I rolled my eyes at his mispronunciation and answered, “I honestly do not know, sir. It could be either that someone is attempting to disrupt the Autumn Festival by getting rid of her, or that someone envies her…or someone just hates her guts.”

“Uh-hmm…” the investigator brooded. “Well, anyway, I’m sure you’re starving by now…”

“…So I’m letting you go until this lunchtime. By then, we’ll have checked your alibi, received the coroner’s report, and gathered some evidence.”

I plastered a smile on my face. “Thank you, sir.”

Sometime near noon, as I wandered the hallways of Balamb Garden, I began to brood and collect my thoughts.

In some distant part in my mind, I heard the dying throes of one of the extras being slaughtered…but that’s not important right now. Right now, I have to think about Selphie Tilmitt’s murder.

Could it be jealousy? Who? Why? Rinoa Heartilly? But she doesn’t want Irvine…Quistis Trepe? Her? Competing for Irvine’s attention? Nah! Irvine himself? Had Selphie been seeing another guy? Not that I know of…but of course, I spend so much time in the flight control center that I don’t take notice of current events.

I caught another fleeting movement out of the corner of my eye. It was just like the shadow I saw earlier…but of course, shadows are not important right now.

Perhaps some backstabbing person…I laughed at the coincidental pun. But really…how can Selphie be so abominable and detested? She’s cheerful, funny, nice, hyperactive, popular…and probably annoying to the point of being a pain-in-the-ass. But that doesn’t count. What I mean is…why would someone want to get rid of her?

Nearby, a student collapses onto the ground, slashed into two. I take no notice, of course. I have other things on my mind.

Money…maybe something to do with money…insurance? Don’t think so. She doesn’t have a family. Blackmail?…Perhaps. Assassination? Which brings me back to the question…why???

As I pondered deeply on the sudden turn of events, I almost tripped over a stray dead body on the floor. Stepping over it, I frowned. Curse those janitors…always sleeping on the job. Never seem to clean the hallways properly.

A dark wraith-like thing suddenly appears in my path, arms outstretched in a menacing manner. It held a razor-sharp knife in one of its shadowy hands, and it bellowed out a roar of terror, as if it was the harbinger of death.

“Excuse me,” I muttered as I moved to the side and walked around it. Monsters…I shake my head…always looking for an excuse to beat up people, I thought as I made a beeline towards my dorm room.

Behind me, I thought I heard something like “Why doesn’t anybody notice me???!!!”

Of course, I’m a SeeD. I know how to focus on my priorities.

“Mr. Cristophe, ahh…” Investigator No. 1 averred as I entered my room. “You’re just in time. We were just about to dust for fingerprints.”

I lightened up a little. “That’s great. Maybe it’ll help you find the killer,” I told them, recalling that the Garden had a fingerprint directory of all the students.

“Meet my partner, Investigator No. 2,” Investigator No. 1 said as he led me to a person standing nearby.

The shorter, less stockier man turned around to greet me…or was it a man? His (or her?) face was strangely familiar, and he (she?) had distinct blonde hair and weirdly glowing eyes. Hmm…the radiation bug must be really going around. But as to where I had seen the person before…I just can’t put my finger on it.

“You must be Ms. Nida,” Investigator No. 2 said in a high voice, indicating that she was female.

“It’s Mr. Nida…” I corrected firmly. I hate it when people mistake me for a girl!

I rolled my eyes, then said in a serious tone, “Investigator No. 1 told me that you were going to dust for fingerprints.”

Investigator No. 2 smiled. “Oh yes,” she answered. “By the way, tell me…are you allergic to fingerprint powder?”

“Then I’m sure you won’t mind this.” Investigator No. 2 grabbed a nearby sack (why didn’t I notice it before?), tore open the top, and flung it over the room, practically smothering my dorm room with…fingerprint powder.

“Okay, people!” she asserted after the dust had settled and I had stopped sneezing. “Start dusting!”

Investigator No. 1 stepped forward from behind me, clad in a…*gasp!*…French maid’s uniform!

“What the-?!” I interjected as the poufy brawn moved forward to start dusting with a *sweatdrop*…feather duster.

After I watched the ridiculous farce for a few minutes, one of the other homicide investigators ran towards Investigator No. 2 to deliver a report.

“Ma’am! We have found only three sets of fingerprints,” the underling announced, holding up three photographs of fingerprints. “The first one belongs to Selphina Tolmett…”

I felt like banging my head on a wall. “Hello! This is my room! Of course my fingerprints should be everywhere!” I gesticulated wildly. “And besides, to whom does the third set of fingerprints belong to?”

The assistant stared at the photograph. “Nah, it’s just some dark, shadowy fingerprints…Doesn’t count.”

As soon as he said that, a dark, shadowy form wielding a knife glided through the door. “Um…those are my fingerprints,” it said.

“Really?” Investigator No. 2 said. “Yo, give it back its fingerprints,” she called to the assistants.

A congregation of fingerprint powder was delivered to the dark, shadowy form, and it stared at it strangely. “But…but…”

“I’m sorry we ruined it,” Investigator No. 2 said. “But hey, at least you got it back. You can go now.”

The dark, shadowy form turned to the group with wide hollow eyes. “But-but I killed Selphie Tilmitt!”

Investigator No. 2 shook her head. “Like that guy said, you don’t count. So scram. We’re doing an investigation here.”

The dark, shadowy form stood there for a while, then, in anger and frustration, slit open one of the assistants and fled in a huff.

Investigator No. 2 turned to see Selphie’s body still on the floor, practically drowning in fingerprint powder. “Aww…man! Now look what you people did! The body’s all caked with powder and blood now. Will somebody clean it up?”

“And while you’re at it,” Investigator No. 2 added. “Give it a bath. And sew the wounds up so it’ll look presentable for autopsy. And wait-“ She stepped forward and pulled the knife out by the handle. “How could you forget to take this out? And you-“ She motioned to a nearby assistant, “Wash this knife properly, then put it in a ziplock bag. Understood?”

“And yo!” Investigator No. 2 called. “Investigator No. 1, you can stop dusting for fingerprints now!”

I was too upset to sleep at my dorm that night, considering the still evident bloodstains on the floor, the bright yellow (ugh, reminds me of Selphie) “Keep Out” police sticky tape all over the doors, and the powdered landscape that was once my room. So, I spent the evening at the flight control center, where Xu kept me company, somewhat relieving my stress.

All was calm until the next morning…

“Mr. Cristophe! You are under arrest for the murder of Telphie Silmitt,” Investigator No. 1 suddenly bellowed as the elevator doors opened to the ground floor.

“What the-?!” I exclaimed as I quickly absorbed what was going on around me. The throng of people at the lobby, the gang of reporters, several policemen, Investigator No. 1’s earlier statement…it all made sense to me now…

“WHAT?!” I yelled above the din. “You think I killed Selphie Tilmitt?! That’s-that’s an outrage!!!”

Lights flashed around me from the several photographers among the crowd as Investigator No. 1 stepped forward to snap some handcuffs on me.

“Wait a second! You don’t have evidence against me!” I protested vehemently. “I have an alibi!”

“We checked your alibi, Mr. Cristophe,” Investigator No. 1 spoke up. “Xu said you were in the Garden control center at those mentioned times. But Zell tells us that he doesn’t’ remember seeing you, or who you were. As for the cafeteria lady, she said she never saw you.”

“But there was a new cafeteria lady!” I told him. “She was young, and I purchased a Coke from her.”

The investigator frowned. “There are only two cafeteria ladies. One never served you, and the other has never managed the counter. And the coroner’s report states that Phelsie Miltitt was murdered sometime after you left the flight control center. Also, you are the only suspect, and your fingerprints were all over the crime scene.”

“Because the crime scene was my room!” I screeched. “Of course my fingerprints would be everywhere!”

“I know you’re upset about this, Mr. Cristophe,” Investigator No. 1 said. “But I request that you come with us peacefully.”

As soon as the investigator led me towards the front gate, several reporters pressed forward, eager to interview me.

I turned to glare at the last reporter, but stopped as soon as I saw her face. My eyes widened as I realized that she had spiky blonde hair and radioactive blue eyes…just like Investigator No. 2 and the other cafeteria lady!

Investigator No. 1 immediately grabbed my shoulders to pull me back. “I apologize, ma’am,” he said to the reporter. “He’s a bit hysterical. He’s trying to blame someone else.”

“They all do,” Investigator No. 1 mumbled as he escorted me out of the Balamb Garden into a police aircraft.

“I’m innocent!!! I didn’t kill her!!!”

As the mediamen began to pile out of the Garden lobby, a certain blonde reporter lingered behind. Instead of leaving, she headed towards the quad for an arranged rendezvous.

All was silent at the festival venue, as students had cancelled the Autumn Festival in honor of the deceased committee head. Streamers billowed in the wind, and decorations were strewn here and there, half-completed. A lone figure stood by the balcony, and the reporter smiled.

“Good, you’re finally here,” the dark, shadowy form remarked without turning around.

“It’s a pity they didn’t think of Phoenix Down to revive Selphie,” the reporter commented, strolling up beside the shadow. “I didn’t think Garden students were that gullible.”

“Hm…I guess the concept of reviving someone can warp the reality of life and death…” the shade murmured philosophically.

“So I guess your plan to get rid of Selphie Tilmitt worked,” the reporter said as she tugged off the smock on her neck. “Eh, Kasa no Miko?”

The figure beside her, who had just morphed into that of a cloaked young girl with a curious hat, grinned. “Yeah…it just kinda sucks that no one is giving me credit for it. But anyway, thanks for all the help, especially in filling in the roles of the cafeteria lady, investigator and reporter, FalconIce.”

The blonde smirked, pulling off her reporter clothes to reveal the mercenary uniform underneath. “No problem. I understand why you need to cut back on cast expenses.”

“PirateBurn wants us to retrieve Squall Leonhart and bring him to her,” Kasa no Miko replied.

“So she could keep him for herself and make him her lapdog?” FalconIce giggled as they both headed for the Garden’s front gate. Then, she suddenly stopped. “Um…aren’t we going to tell the police that Nida’s innocent?” she asked.

Kasa no Miko thought for a moment.

“Nah!”

Meanwhile…in the distance…the sounds of protest reverberated throughout the continent…

AUTHOR'S NOTES: By the way, Cristophe really isn't Nida's family name. Just made it up. And hey, I'm not torturing Nida! I happen to like him!