Ever since I went to York last year, I've wanted to write about it. This story has been stuck in my head for a long time, and I've finally managed to put it into works. If anyone likes it, I'll finish it ^^ :::REVISED:::

Luv Kafers

Ragnarok

Chapter 1

By Kafers

Ranarok: The final battle where all the the forces of evil fight against the gods. - Snorri Sturluson's Edda

"We're losing control!"

"We can't fail now, Goddamnit! Gun the engine!"

"I can't! We're losing pressure too rapidly..."

"This stupid tin can is falling apart!"

"No! We can't lose it now!"

"Look out!!"

"Hold my hand.... one last time...."

Squall hit his alarm clock for the second time that day, after having put it on snooze the first time. It flew off his bedside table/bookshelf like a kamikaze pilot, spinning and tumbling and then bouncing along the floor with several crunching noises. Squall groaned. The only thing worse than getting up early, for him, was having to pick things up and put them back before he actually got up. It took too much thinking, but Squall hated stepping on sharp pointy things. Just like any other normal person.

He climbed out of bed with the grace of a molting bird, his hair matted and sticking out like ruffled feathers. He blew a stray lock of hair from between his eyes and rose, stumbling half-blind into the frame of his door. Rubbing his head and grumbling, he headed for the bath room.

A high, girly giggle burst suddenly from his flat mate's room, but Squall ignored it and carried on his march to the shower. His flat mate, an American student named Irvine, was always inviting girls into his room for 'slumber parties', as he liked to call them. Squall was used to hearing strange noises in the dead of night, but he usually slept through them anyway - he could sleep through a hurricane, as Irvine often said.

The flat wasn't very impressive, since Squall didn't earn that much, and all the money Irvine was sent by his 'folks back home' was spent on booze and women. Mostly on women. The flat had a nice sized living room, with a little kitchen at the back, behind a big wooden island that had obviously survived from the sixties. There was also a little corridor at the back, with two bedrooms on either wall - Squall on the left, Irvine on the right - and a bathroom at the end. The carpets were a disgusting brown, and the walls, which had probably once been white, were a washed out grey, covered in stains of an indeterminable nature. As far as flats went, it wasn't capital standard, but it wasn't squalor either.

The only thing that Squall really hated was the bathroom floor. The tiles were a muddy aqua, with - Squall was almost certain - every disease known to man, festering in the gaps between each one. As Squall opened the door, he pulled the cord to turn the light on, then cringed as a little brown bug scuttled along the floor and away under the skirting board. He really hated insects. Especially spiders, even though they technically weren't insects.

Squall, after much practice, had come up with a quick way for getting across to the bath without touching the floor too much. He crouched low at the door, holding the frame to give him balance. His legs coiled from under him like a giant cat's, sinewy muscle carrying him forward. His foot touched the ground briefly as he grabbed at the side of the bath, and he swung his legs over. Usually, these rather skilful - if a tad silly - gymnastics usually worked for Squall, when there was a mat in the bath, that is. Today, Squall was not so lucky.

During one of Irvine more adventurous nights, he and girl X had decided to use the bath. Unfortunately for Squall, they had removed the anti-slip mat from the bottom of the bath (it was interfering with their fun), leaving only the slimy, smooth surface of the bath for Squall to land on. His feet slid away from under him, and Squall yelled as he fell backwards. With a loud crash he landed on his backside, his palms stinging as he tried to brace his fall.

"Ow! Fucking hell!"

Irvine came running down the hall like the building was on fire.

"Squall! Hey, Squall! What happened? Are you ok?" He yelled, flinging the door open.

Squall looked contemptuously at Irvine though a sheet of hair. His eyes were wide, and he was wearing a pair of black boxers and a cowboy hat - Squall would have laughed if his butt didn't hurt so much.

“No, not really.” Said Squall, as lay down in the bath and put his arm over his face. He could feel it already; this was gonna be one of those day's.

Squall followed the same routine every day. He got up at 6:40, got into the bath and turned the showerhead on, got dressed, ate a piece of toast, made sure Irvine had a set of keys, then he left for work. He always walked to work (since he didn't have a drivers license), but he would not have preferred to drive, since he loved the place that he lived in. York was an incredibly old city, older than most cities in England - perhaps even older than London. Squall lived in a flat by the river, on the third and highest level, and stepping out of his front door was like stepping into the past. All the streets were cobbled, and all the houses were still made of wattal and dorb.

Squall had to cross the river to get to work, which meant walking over his favourite bridge. The stone was a light, crumbly brown, weathered and shaped by the wind and rain. You could still make out the old intricate carvings that covered each side, twisting vines, and gargoyle heads to protect the city. The road had been asphalted here, making the bridge more secure for cars and lorry's - not that Squall cared much. He was more concentrated on walking through the city gates and ducking down an old hidden passageway, taking him on slight detour.

Squall had been making this detour for about a month now, and though it made his trip to work that little bit longer, he believed it was worth it. Along a little alleyway, down an out of the way road - and he was there. It was like walking from a small tunnel into a grand open theatre, and the air assaulted Squalls senses from all angles. The smell of fresh dirt and the grind of heavy machinery was very out of place in the centre of York, but the residence were used to archaeological digs. There was a certain excitement about digging up the past, removing thousands of years of dirt and waste, recovering secret mysteries of the people who came before. Squall's heart fluttered as he walked slowly past the site - but it wasn't because of the dig.

Dr. Seifer Almasy was annoyed. He spent most of the day being annoyed with people, yelling at people, telling people off, ordering people around. He was surprised his blood pressure hadn't skyrocketed. At that moment he was frowning down at one of his new people on the team - a snotty little university kid who was out for a bit of ‘job experience'. He was a punk, with spiky yellow hair full of enough gel to fill a whole in the ozone layer. He was clumsy, and had nearly tripped over a very important piece of equipment - Seifer was really getting tired of him.

"Mr. Dincht," he said, looking down his nose at the boy, "I'm only going to say this once, then your off on your arse. If you can't do what your told, and stay out of my way, for at least the rest of your life if possible, then there is no point whatsoever for your presence here. Is that understood?". Maybe he'd been a bit too blunt with that statement, but he really was at the end of his rope, so to speak.

Zell Dincht did not like being talked down too. Although it was generally unavoidable, since he was pretty short. Normally he would make some smart comment to keep himself on top, but the cold look in Seifer's eyes stopped Zell - his gaze was quite intimidating. Zell frowned deeply and decided to do as he was told, for now.

"Yes sir," He mumbled into his shirt collar.

He'd get his own back, he always did.

Much to Zells surprise, his chance for revenge came up much sooner than he'd expected. Dr. Quistis Trepe was walking over to talk to Seifer as he finished with Zell. She was a lovely woman, with a full mouth and neat honey blond hair - Zell would have probably fancied her if he'd been interested in woman. She was a very intelligent woman, and once of Seifer's oldest friends. Seifer nodded his head to her in way of greeting, then let his gaze sweep over the rest of the site.

Seifer's face, always serious and etched with a deep frown, changed so suddenly that Zell almost laughed out loud. His harsh green eyes grew impossibly wide and his jaw went slack. A bright pink flush spread across his nose, and he ducked behind a large yellow tent -dragging Quistis with him.

Quistis gave Seifer a look that made her resemble a ruffled goose, but he took no notice.

"Its HimSeifer gasped, peeking from behind the tent, then pulling back quickly with a deep gasp of air. Quistis just rolled her eyes. She was used to this - Seifer could be a real pain sometimes, but other times his old ways would surface, and he's so something rather sweet. He looked pretty ridicules, a man of 26 in a pristine lab coat - hiding behind a big yellow tent like an embarrassed school girl.

"You know," she Quistis, smiling behind a delicate pale hand, "for an arrogant bastard, you can be pretty cute sometimes." She couldn't help laughing as Seifer turned his harsh eyes on her, his face quite a lovely shade of tomato. He hated being teased, especially by Quistis, since she knew most of his really humiliating secrets. But he respect her, and, though he would never admit it, thought of her as his closest friend.

The same thing had happened everyday since the beginning of the dig in early August, and now it was the beginning of September. Squall had always been fascinated by the past, and he couldn't resist a quick walk past the new site - just to see how things were going. Seifer had just arrived when Squall had come around the corner. He'd been getting out of his large four wheel drive jeep when the wind had suddenly picked up, grasping one of his folders, and sending it spinning down the street. Squall's reflex's were quick, and he's plucked the folder from the air with precise ease. Not really looking were he was going, Seifer had run after his work, stopping dead when a pair of old walking boots had come into view. His eyes had flicked up to the folder being held out to him, and he's placed his hand around it as he mumbled a thanks.

Then their eyes met.

Seifer had once read somewhere that the eyes are the window to the soul, but he had scoffed over it at the time. Now his stomach plummeted like a stone, and a shot of heat ran up his spine. The eyes before him looked strait back at him with equal measure, almost challenging him to be the one to look away first. And Seifer never backed down from a challenge. The eyes were an almost stormy blue, flecked with ice, surrounded by beautiful thick black lashes, and drawn to a smooth point at the corners. Seifers mouth went dry. The eyes belonged to the face of another man, or perhaps a boy, Seifer couldn't tell how old he was - he could have been 15 or 25. His skin was perfect, tinted like a fresh peach. His hair was dark brown, and had been let to grow in wild strands about his face, the longest parts brushing his chin. Seifers gaze was drawn to a pair of full pink lips as a tongue flicked out to wet them, and then he stepped away. Seifer was so surprised he nearly dropped the folder. Squall's face turned bright red, bringing out a birth mark that Seifer hadn't noticed before. A slim slash from his forehead, running diagonally across his nose. Flustered, Squall hurried quickly past Seifer and away down the street - away to dream of tall blond men in land rovers.

Everyday since, Squall had taken a little detour on his way to work. He didn't often see his mystery man from the jeep, but he always lived in hope.

Zell had never been the brightest pea in the pod, but he wasn't stupid. He knew a tactical advantage when he saw one. Walking quickly, he made his way over to the pretty young man.

"Hey there"

Squall started. He had been about to carry on his way when a strong had had landed on his shoulder. Not used to being touched, he flinched, pulling away.

"Hey, sorry mate! Didn't mean to startle you." The guy behind Squall said, raising his hands in apology. Squall stared - the guy couldn't have been much older than himself, if a bit on the short side, with crazy blond hair and a grin like a cat. He seemed friendly enough as he began chatting to Squall, talking about the dig and the work at the lab. Squall was quite interested, though he didn't say much (he never said very much).

Until, that is, he realized the guy was trying to chat him up.

Squall really hated being chatted up. He always reacted very badly, depending on the situation. If a girl was chatting him up, and they tended to be quite clingy, he'd always slip in a comment about a girlfriend - though he hated to lie, it usually worked very well. However, if it was a guy - and it didn't happen too often - he tended to panic.

His palms would sweat and his face would go red, bringing out the nasty birthmark across his face. He'd start to wring his hands, and his heart would begin to beat painfully. It was not a very nice experience.

Squalls stomach clenched in dread as he felt himself begin to sweat. Zell seemed to notice something was wrong and looked at Squall with a critical eye.

"Are you alright?" He asked, reaching a hand out to Squall's face.

Seifer crossed his arms and stuck his nose in the air. "Look Quistis" He said, not looking at her, "nothing you can say will convince me otherwise. Just because I fancy someone, does not mean I have a duty to talk to them."

But Quistis wasn't listening. She was peaking out from behind the tent, peering through her spectacles at something.

"Isn't that the assistant from the University?" she asked.

"Huh?" said Seifer intelligently, nearly knocking over Quistis as he tried to see.

"That's Zell Dincht! The little git!" Seifer exclaimed, almost shaking in anger. "Bastard, bastard, bastard!!"

Quistis giggled.

"Ooh, he's in trouble."

They both watched as Zell began to chat with the other young man casully. Seifer was livid. He was going to do some really horrible things to Zell when he got the chance...

Seifer gasped like a fish, and nearly fell over as he watched Zell reach out to touch the boys face.

Squall jerked back as the hand nearly landed on his cheek, flicking some of his hair away. He gasped in mortification, stepping back as Zell gave him a confused look. Zell began to pull his had away - and it was at this point that Squall noticed the time on Zell's watch. He nearly chocked: In one minute he'd be late for work!

"Ah! I'm-I'm sorry! I have to go! I'm late for w-work!" Squall stumbled over his words as he tried to get his legs to take him away, quickly.

Realizing that he was about to loose a rather dashing date, Zell tried to grab the other young man.

"Wait! Do you wanna go out for a drink some time?" Squall kept pulling away. Zell racked his brain for ways to make him stay. "Erm, I mean, maybe you'd like lunch? or Dinner? or Breakfast!?"

Squall shook his head and carried on hurrying away.

Zell almost growled in frustration. This guy was bloody gorgeous!

"Well.. at least can I have your name!?"

Squall didn't even stop. "My name's Squall... Squall Lionheart."

And he was gone.

Quistis whistled "One all to pretty boy."

Seifer laughed in relief, "Zero to Zell the pillock."

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