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Disclaimer: Square owns all its Final Fantasy characters. The rest is mine! Mwahahaha... (All flames shall be met with a mocking scornful laugh, because my armor has Flameproof on it. :P)
(Sorry about the delay in getting this posted, I was delayed by end of semester projects and a summer physics class. >< But thanks to all the nice people who reviewed! ^^)

When You're Evil and Dead
By: Sforzie

Chapter 29: Shock Therapy

"Session 98f. Kuja Tribal. My my, getting close to your last session with me. How do you feel?"

There was a pause, then: "I want to rip your lungs out."

"Ha ha ha. Then that's an improvement over last year already. Let's see.. do you remember my name this time?"

"It's Dr. Demios, you moron." Kuja glared at her therapist. She hated therapy. Having her wrists taped together and her feet stuck to the floor didn't help either.

"Ha...yes." The therapist cleared his throat. "How are...things...?"

"The same."

"It's been 998 years, and there's been no change?"

"Still the same."

"I see. Interesting." The demon jotted something down. "Maybe it's permanent this time."

"I wish it'd make up it's damn mind."

"Ha ha ha. Don't we all." Dr. Demios looked down at his pad. "Hmm. We'd release you, you know, since...that...has apparently stabilized. But we can't until you quit attacking people when you're not on your meds."

"Isn't that a fucking pity."


"Are we there yet?"

"No, I don't think so."

Kefka and Sephiroth had stopped somewhere near the Great Mall of Hell, and were staring up at a big office building.

"MegaHappyEvil Industries," Kefka read. "Makers of fine computer software." The blonde cocked his head curiously. "What's a computer?"

"Don't worry 'bout it," Sephiroth said, leaning on the Masamune. "Just some fancy stuff that screws up a lot and makes grown men cry."

"Uwee hee, how evil!"

"Quite. And then they'll occasionally make more of it, but completely different and barely compatible with the previous version."

"Ooooh," Kefka wiggled his fingers. "Sounds like Magitech gone wrong!" He giggled to himself for a few minutes, cheeks still flushed from drinking.

Sephiroth teetered for a moment. "How much longer do we have?"

"Umm..." Kefka looked at his wrist. "Hmm." He tapped the bone there and looked up at the dark sulfurous sky. Kefka licked his forefinger and held it up in the stagnant air, cocking his head again. He squinted. "Mmm... I'm not really sure. But it should've almost been a thousand years by now."

"Are you sure?" Sephiroth looked behind them, back at the Mall. "We could probably go back and have a few more drinks to kill some time."

"And brain cells."

"Just the slow ones."


Sephiroth muffled a hiccup. "You know. Survival of the fittest. The alcohol kills off all the weak brain cells."

Kefka blinked a few times. "Right." He looked down the street toward Hell's Bells. "Maybe we should just go now and bug them until they let us see her!"

"Will that work?"

He scratched his pale nose. "Um....well, I think so."


They arrived at Hell's Bells awhile later, after realizing that, in their drunken stupor, they had already walked past the building. Twice. The guards manning the doors gave the villains a doubtful look, but let them in. Kefka staggered up to the front desk, a droopy silver-haired bishounen in tow.

"Ah, Mr. Palazzo. How may I help you today?" The demon behind the desk smiled at him thinly, fangs showing. Kefka flashed his own little fangs, pressing his palms against the top of the desk so that he didn't fall over.

"I want to visit something....ur...someone."

The demon blinked. "Anyone in particular?"

"Kujaaaa!" Sephiroth wailed, gripping Kefka's cloak. He looked distraught. Kefka cleared his throat.

"Uwee....hee...yes. A Miss Kuja--"


"Shut up!" The blonde whirled on Sephiroth, yanking his cloak free and decking him in nearly the same movement.


"Uwee." Kefka turned back to the receptionist. "Miss Kuja Tribal." He ignored the whimper from Sephiroth.

"Miss Kuja Tribal...." the demon picked up a clipboard and flipped through the pages. He read, then stopped, hesitating. "Miss...?"

"Kuja Tribal!" Kefka snapped. "We want to see her!"

"....right." A pause. "I supposed it's been long enough." Brow arched, the demon set down the clipboard and picked up a small checklist.

"Oooh, I like this part!" Sephiroth giggled from the floor. Kefka sighed.

"Ahem. Alright, are either of you carrying anything that might be used as a weapon?"

"Does a really long sword count?"

"...not really."

"Then no."

"Are all your shots up to date?"

"Yeah, Kefka went to the vet last week--ow!!" Sephiroth ducked away from Kefka again.

"The asylum is not responsible for any damage you may incur while on the grounds. Are you insured?"

"We're dead!" Kefka chirped. He blinked a few times. "Oooh, I think I've said that before, uwee hee hee!"

The demon sighed. "Alright. I'll give you a visitor's pass, but you really shouldn't stay too long."


"Shhh....she's in cell 42. In the third row. Please note that the records say her memory of more recent times might be fuzzy. Meaning she might not recognize you two immediately." The demon cleared his throat. "Enjoy your stay at Hell's Bells, gentlemen. Don't get readmitted."


The third row was lined with many doors, all looking basically the same. Each door had a little window, and a little sign above the window with a color-coded card rating the occupant's danger level. They found cell 42 and its orange sign easily enough.

Kefka peered into the little window, looking for Kuja. Sephiroth leaned to look over his shoulder.

"Hello, doll!" Kefka tapped on the plexiglass, ignoring the sign below the window that read "DO NOT TAP ON THE GLASS".

A few minutes passed before Kuja appeared in front of the window. She stared out at them with a blank look. Kuja looked from Kefka to Sephiroth, then blinked a few times.


"Uwee, yeah! And him too.."

Her gaze shifted again. "...Sephiroth."

"You remember!" He smiled. "They said you might not."

Kuja turned away from the door, shaking her head. "I remember you guys."

"Uwee hee hee... we're hard to forget." Kefka tilted his head curiously when Kuja turned back to face them. "Are you really alright? There's something different about you."

Sephiroth mimicked the head tilt. "There is?"

"Quit being so unbelieveably dense, you lush," Kefka snapped, elbowing him.

"Ow, quit it!"

Kuja smiled thinly. "Ah, well, there different, I guess."

"Oh, reeeeally?" Kefka perked. "What what what? Tell us!"

"You mean you can't really tell?" Kuja's nose wrinkled.

"Nope." Kefka tapped on the window again. "Tell."

She shook her head. "No, no, I can't! You'll hate me!"

"Aw, we won't hate you, doll! You're our most favorite bad girl in all of hell!"

Kuja hesitated, then sighed. "I'm not a girl anymore, Kefka."

The blonde blinked. "Come again?"

"I'm a man." Kuja's brow ticked. Kefka looked perplexed for a moment, and giggled lightly.

"Kuja-doll, I though we already went through this before."

"We did."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I was a guy. Then I was a girl. And now I'm a guy again."

Kefka stared blankly at Kuja for a moment, then looked at Sephiroth over his shoulder. The bishounen shrugged, looking clueless.


"Look," Kuja snapped, tugging the belt of her robe loose and pulling it open.

There was a long pause, before it occurred to them to look down.

"Uwee hee, wow, you really are a guy, doll!" Kefka giggled, blushing. There was a THUNK behind them, and Kefka turned to see Sephiroth passed out cold on the floor.

"Sephiroth??" Kuja belted his robe shut and leaned against the door, peering through the little window.

Kefka leaned over him, patting his cheek. "I think you broke him, Kuja..."

Kuja rested his forehead on the window. "I knew you'd take it bad."

"N-no, it's not that, really..." Kefka cleared his throat. "We were just worried about you, that's all!"

"Sure you were."

"Really!" Kefka stood up, tapping on Kuja's forehead through the window. "Say, that why you freaked out?"

He leaned back, rubbing the red spot on his forehead. "Wouldn't you freak out if every time you went to the bathroom there you were a different gender?"

"Ur...I guess so..." Kefka blinked. "You could just quit going to the bathroom there."

"That's not the point."

"I know, I know," he hopped a bit. "You don't look extremely volatile, doll."

"I'm heavily drugged," Kuja smirked. "Otherwise I can't make it through a session without Flare-ing my therapist."

"Oooh, Dr. Demios or Dr. Chloride?"

"Dr. Demios," Kuja said. "Chloride dropped me as one of his treatments after the third time I Flared him."

"Uwee hee, he always was a bit of a wimp."

He smiled crookedly, then blinked. "Wait, Kefka, how do you know that? You said you'd never been admitted."

Kefka hesitated. "Ah, yes....that."

Kuja narrowed his eyes. "You've been lying?"

"What?!" He looked a bit panicky. "No, no, no, it wasn't lying... not really, doll."

Kuja looked down at the orange tag on his wrist and frowned. "Then what the fuck is it?"

"Well.." Kefka took a step back, wary of being Flared through the window. "Everyone goes to Hell's Bells eventually, doll."

"You're not being very convincing."

"Ah...well..." He batted at his ponytail for a moment.

Kuja crossed his arms, glowering. "Spill it, blondie."


end chapter 29