Chapter 2: Seb, Lies and Magitek
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Seb looked up at the gigantic mass of pulsing metal before him, and
suddenly felt very, very homesick.  Even chatting with old man Strago
would be better than this...

"Didn't you hear me?  Drop down where you are, and remove all
valuables.  Now!" boomed the guardian's echoing voice once again.

Seb, seeing that escape probably wouldn't be such a hot idea at this
point, quickly set to work, unstrapping his sword from his belt,
emptying his pockets, and tossing them in the Guardian's direction.
After finishing, he looked up to the machine.

"That's it.  Can I go now?  I have a message for the Impresario," he
stated, itching to finish up with this mugging.  There was no response
for a while, as the Guardian slowly lowered itself to the ground,
clanking loudly as it went.  The weapons, unfortunately, stayed
locked on Seb.  Finally, as the bottom vents of the Magitek machine
hit the ground, a small hatch opened at the top, and a shabbily clad
man popped out of the hole. Seb stared in disbelief: apparently the
Empire had lowered their standards.  He watched as the man
scampered down the length of the Guardian, and, ignoring Seb
entirely, proceeded to gather the pile of valuables in his arms.
He was lazily walking back to his machine, arms full of Seb's
belongings, when Seb finally had to ask:

"What kind of Imperials ARE you?  Wasn't there some sort of a dress
code for Magitek Knights before?"

The soldier in front of him started laughing.  A harsh, shrill sort
of laugh, and one that was echoed from all around the edges of the
field that Seb and the Guardian were in.  Seb glanced around, and saw
a dozen or so shabbily clad men emerging from the brush, all smiling
ear to ear.  The man who had been using the machine before had set
down his load on the ground , and was pretty much rolling on the
floor.  Seb blushed uncontrollably, and he felt blood rushing
through his head.

"I can't believe I fell for that.  The oldest trick in the book..."
Seb repeated to himself, like an absurd mantra.  Finally, after most
of the laughter had died down, he stared at the band of thieves
surrounding him, specifically the Magitek rider, and emanated cold
hatred as best he could.  After some time, the circle of thieves
closed, and after much rough-housing and swearing, his upper body
was bound tight, and was led off.  Seb presumed they were heading
to the robbers' camp.  He stayed very quiet, still not terribly
pleased with himself.  He noticed the Guardian clank its way into the
underbrush, not really concealed but still not quite as visible as
normal.  His curiosity was peaked.

"How'd a bunch of thieves like you get a hold of working Magitek
armor, much less a Guardian?  You don't seem to be the engineering
type..." he questioned.  The nearest thief grinned.

"Sure, I'll tell you.  I was heading out of Albrook, heading to Tzen
with some... "merchandise", when Kefka's tower was taken out.  There
was this huge flash of light, and I was knocked out.  Anyway,
when I awoke, I decided to check it out.  It was a wreck, and but
I managed to salvage enough Magitek parts to build that," he thumbed
towards the Guardian.  "It took a lot of work to get it working again,
but I come from South Figaro, y'know.  I know my way around machines.
So, a few months later, me and my buddies, we set up this scam.
Works like a charm.  The Guardian's steam-powered now, of course,
but we fake the weapons powering up with mirrors and candles.  No
one tells the difference."

"How'd you know I was coming?  Why am I being held captive?" Seb
asked.

"Our man in Jidoor warned us about you; sent a sprinting Chocobo
ahead of you.  You might remember him; he runs a shop, sold you
some pretzels," the thief said, and smiled when Seb scowled at
the mention of the pretzels.  "As for keeping you hostage, me an'
the boys figured we ought to get to know you before we kill you.
For fun, y'know."

Seb stayed silent for a while. Great.  Sadistic thieves, and he was
their captive.  Just peachy.  He REALLY needed to figure a way out.
Later that night, he tried asking the watchman if he could go take a
midnight stroll, hoping the thief would forget about his shoes, but
his request was politely declined.  So he waited.  And prayed.