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For the Planet’s Sake
Meteor loomed ominously above Sephiroth as he stood atop the remains of one of the many small buildings on the Midgar plate. It was a sight to behold, Meteor hanging above the remains of the Shinra Headquarters, the light of Holy desperately trying to restrain it from crashing into the Planet, and that beautiful roar of everything in between the Planet and Meteor being torn apart by the crimson pillars and gravitational forces between them. Even the building he stood upon now was groaning with the stress of being ripped in two. He was somewhat thankful that the building was sturdy, or he would not have the liberty of viewing the possible destruction of the Planet from such an awe-inspiring angle. And if he were not as strong as he was... well, he would not be in very good condition. The only reason Sephiroth was standing atop the lonesome building in Midgar was because he was strong. Cloud and his friends had defeated the Calamity From the Skies, his ‘Bizarro’ form, and the One-Winged Angel of the Lower Reaches. But they had not beaten the true Sephiroth. That had all been just a game. A game he lost; he’d give those infidels credit for actually beating those three adversaries in such quick succession. As a parting gift, he’d given Cloud the chance to reach final closure, by killing what was merely a psychological aspect of who would be considered ‘the white-haired angel of death.’ Sure, Sephiroth’s ego was a little injured by letting Cloud beat what was only an image of himself, and he would guarantee that the little spike-haired SOLDIER-wannabe would go around bragging that he beat the ‘great Sephiroth’ all by his lonesome, but that was only if he got the chance.

Alas, he never would get that chance. Cloud and the rest would be denied of their glory, for once Meteor hit, they would all die in a blaze of fire and bloody agony. And, at the center of it all, waiting for the Lifestream to come and repair the big mess left by Meteor, would be Sephiroth, the greatest warrior the Planet had ever known. He smiled, serene. After that, he’d be a god, an intergalactic vampire, sucking the life out of other planets in the galaxy, maybe the universe. After this meal, he would be sure that no one would be able to stop him. The universe would be his oyster; he’d consume all of the protective layering, throw away the shell, and perhaps find a nice surprise when he was done. And no one would stand a chance. Sephiroth felt something claw at the back of his mind. It made him start to feel the slightest bit guilty about what he had done, but it was quickly smashed back down to the bottom of his thoughts where it belonged. Jenova had warned him about that. She had warned him that there would be something that would make him feel like he was doing something wrong.

That thing was ‘his’ conscience. It was his, and Jenova had warned him to crush it whenever it started to make him feel bad. What he was doing was right. Those filthy little creatures had taken the Planet away from his mother, and he was going to take it back a hundredfold for her.

...But there was something else nagging the back of his mind. He wasn’t sure what it was, and it couldn’t be so easily crushed, but there was something...... Something he missed. There were no flaws in his plan, there was no way anybody on the face of the Planet could stop him, and yet, something was... bothering him. He then realized that he felt that someone was boring holes into him with their eyes.

Sephiroth was faced with the sudden compulsion to look around, to see if anyone was watching him. It was silly, he knew. There was nobody who could survive the forces of two celestial bodies ripping them in two, but perhaps there was a corpse somewhere, caught on some scaffolding, or wrapped around a lamppost, just staring at him with blind eyes. Yes, that was it. He turned to look behind him. And Sephiroth saw that there indeed was somebody looking at him. But it wasn’t a rotting cadaver looking into nothingness.

Sephiroth found that a living, heavily-breathing man was glaring at him from the streets below.

----

He looked up angrily at Sephiroth. This was his chance; his chance for vengeance. Not sweet revenge, not blind justice, not cold retribution. Just vengeance, in its rawest and purest form. He didn’t fight to save the lives of people he didn’t know, and he certainly didn’t fight to save himself. He had nothing to lose, except his own life, but he was sure he hadn’t earned that anyways. He had hated the white-haired bastard that stood on the building for a long time now, and for good reason. Sephiroth had taken away the person, the only person, he held dear to him. Nothing else mattered but her, and that murderous psychopath had dropped her with a huge slash of his sword. The memories flashed back in his mind, and with the memories came the voices. They insulted him, taunted him for being so weak.

worthless pathetic weak insignificant you can’t expect to beat him you can’t beat him you’re nothing compared to him compared to anyone you should’ve died with everyone else but you ran you hid you coward just like at the bridge when she needed you you ran you were afraid of the height afraid of falling down and down and down so you ran back home but she got hurt and you got hurt and you cried for her but that wasn’t enough to bring her back no you didn’t cry for her you cried because you might’ve lost her and you wouldn’t have a friend in the world now you have the chance to make up for how you ran all those times but it will not matter you will fail you’re too weak you can’t win you can’t win you can’t win

“Shut up,” he muttered. It wasn’t toward any of the voices in particular, he just wanted them to be quiet. When they didn’t do that, he began to repeat something in his mind, like a silent mantra he had known all his life.

‘You’re gonna die, I’m gonna kill you, you’re gonna die, I’m gonna kill you, you’re gonna die, I’m gonna kill you...’

----

Sephiroth watched as the man silently thought about things, all the while still glaring up at him. This man was dressed like one who would prowl the streets of a scum-laden town like Midgar, searching for a damsel in distress; a white shirt, black pants tucked into black knee-high seamless boots, and a black trenchcoat that flowed behind him. He also had short black hair that looked greasy, mostly combed back, but several tendrils of it hanging over his forehead. He didn’t appear to have any facial hair, and it would’ve been a favor to him, because he looked malnourished. Maybe it was just the light. His skin was an unhealthier shade of peach, resembling that of the poor wretch he slain back in the Forgotten City. But there was something about his eyes, his wide blue eyes. It was familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it...

How this man was surviving the combined pulls of Planet and Meteor was beyond him. How that man had found a stable piece of pavement to stand on remained a mystery. Exactly why the man was there remained an enigma wrought of secrecy. But this man looked as if he had a debt to repay. Or maybe it was simpler than that. Yes, it was merely a thirst for blood. Sephiroth’s Jenova-laden blood.

He could already tell that this man might be someone to reckon with. After all, he stood in what could be classified as Ground Zero for the destruction of the Planet, a place where no mere mortal could stand and survive without being horribly mutilated. Then there was a fact that he actually had sword in his hand. It was only three-and-a-half feet long, with the basic double-edged design, but any man with a weapon like that could be considered dangerous. After all, some warriors would get cocky enough to use weapons that were below the quality that their skill defined. And, by the looks in his eyes, the man probably had a long overdue score to settle...

The man suddenly leapt from the streets below to the roof of the building Sephiroth was standing on. It had to’ve been a sixteen-story jump. This man was no mere human. Sephiroth unsheathed his Masamune, his legendary blade, and the man kept staring at him, with a scowl of contemptuous hatred lingering on his face.

“Who are you?” Sephiroth asked, drowned out by the roar of the battle between the Planet and Meteor.

The man lowered his head, never breaking his gaze. “That isn’t important.” The man had obviously heard him, and, surprisingly, Sephiroth could also hear him over the earsplitting din.

Sephiroth grinned; an anonymous hero-type. “Then what are you motives?”

“One wouldn’t think you care.”

Ah, the stranger was using the third-person. Perhaps he just wanted to put on a good show before he died. “It will not matter in the end, but it would satisfy me to know why you are here.” The two talked like strangers lost in the street, curtly asking each other directions.

The man cocked his head down at a strange yet humanly-possible angle, so that he seemed to be slightly looking up at Sephiroth. “I come seeking vengeance.”

Now, Sephiroth could most likely kill this man at his whim, but his curiosity was nagging at him too much to simply off him and be done with it. “Why do you come seeking that? You’re going to die within a few moments, anyways. You can’t possibly stop that,” he said, pointing at Meteor with his Masamune.

“It doesn’t matter. You burned her hometown to the ground, you sadistic bastard.”

Interesting indeed. Sephiroth lowered his sword, grinning broadly, feeling a little arrogant. There was only one town he had burned down, but he hadn’t been expecting any other survivors besides the puppet and the slut. “So you lived in that filthy little hovel Nibelheim, too? Who is ‘her,’ anyways? Some bratty child, or overbearing mother, or loving girlfriend?”

The man seemed to have an involuntary muscle spasm in his neck that craned his head at another odd angle. He swiftly quashed it. The hateful glare left his face, replaced with the playings of a sinister grin. He now recognized what had puzzled him about the man’s eyes. He had seen that same gleam time and time again in Hojo’s laboratory.

The look in his eyes was not that of a ‘rational’ man.

A smart, calculating man, maybe, but definitely not a sound one. Perhaps that was the reason he stood there, talking to Sephiroth instead of trying to kill him. Not out of arrogance, or out of taste for melodrama, but rather from a lack of mental stability. The man had a few nervous ticks, despite not appearing nervous at all. “It will end here, you’ll pay... for what you did.” It almost appeared to pain him to talk now.

The man ended the conversation by taking a large overhead swipe at Sephiroth. He countered easily; he had been expecting a sudden move from the stranger. The man struck at the Masamune with two more overhead swipes, then tried for a forward stab. Sephiroth countered by knocking the blade aside, and then attacking with a vertical swipe. The man dodged to the side, and gave Sephiroth’s shoulder a rapid slash, lightly wounding flesh as well as ripping trenchcoat. Sephiroth looked at the man vehemently for being able to move so quickly, and continued fighting. He made it a very short battle; the two kept swinging and guarding, neither landing a hit, until Sephiroth saw an open chance. He lashed forward, skewering the man through his stomach. He doubled over as the pain registered. It was over; Sephiroth had won again. This superhuman lunatic had decided to go against him, and he lost miserably, only succeeding in slashing Sephiroth’s trenchcoat. He considered throwing the man off the Masamune, and toward the Meteor, where he would surely get torn apart.

Then the man looked up, with his arms spread wide, glowering evilly and resisting an insane smile.

The first thing that hit Sephiroth was ‘Either he enjoys the prospect of dying, or by some slip of chance, I didn’t kill him.

Then the man slowly began to backpedal, removing himself from the Masamune, not leaving a streak of blood on it.

Sephiroth was, in a word, mystified. This man had just escaped death with incredible ease, not even looking hurt in the slightest. He wasn’t even bleeding by what he was seeing. Something definitely seemed wrong about this. Perhaps killing this fellow would take longer than he had thought... He stood a full nine feet away from Sephiroth, still glaring. He raised his sword with one arm, pointing it directly at Sephiroth.

The man’s sword spontaneously lengthened by some seven-and-a-half feet, fast enough to skewer Sephiroth through the chest.

The Masamune clattered to the roof. Sephiroth gasped, both at that it had been unexpected, and that it really hurt. How had he done that?! It wasn’t physically possibly just to create matter, never mind in such a uniform design like that of a sword blade. Sephiroth quickly stopped thinking of the details as the incredible pain in his chest intensified. The man, still holding his sword with one had, lifted it enough so that Sephiroth’s feet didn’t touch the roof he stood on. Sephiroth gasped again, and grabbed the blade in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure. The sword blade slowly began to reduce back to its original proportions, bringing Sephiroth with it. The blade shortened enough so that he stood face-to-face with the man he had unwittingly underestimated.

“They said yours was a soul too strong to return to the Lifestream...” The man continued to resist the insane smile that had begun to form on his lips. “They said that you wouldn’t die...” Sephiroth tried to come back with something acknowledging the man’s statement, but instead coughed up blood. “So I’m simply going to force you out of your own body...” Sephiroth looked at him oddly, through the pain. ‘Force him out of his own body’? He was sure what that meant, but nobody could possibly do that without killing him first. The man grasped his sword with both hands, and began to tremble, as if strongly concentrating on something.

Then the pain in Sephiroth’s chest exploded, flowing throughout his entire body like his skin and innards were ablaze with an almighty river of fire that tore at his own body cells. Everything in Sephiroth’s sight hazed over in that green color, the color of the Lifestream. His eyes widened, and his mouth gaped open, trying to scream at the scorching agony coursing through his body, to get it to go away and leave him alone. Suddenly, the pain seemed to release. But that was no good; it was replaced with a lightheadedness, one that made him feel like he was floating. Actually, he was floating. Meteor and the stars behind it couldn’t move like that. He looked down, and met the man’s angry eyes and scowl again. In front of him was his own body, still impaled on the sword. Sephiroth was in shock, but didn’t take him too long to realize what had just happened. The man hadn’t been lying; he had indeed forced Sephiroth’s spirit out of his own body.

The man put his foot on the chest of Sephiroth’s corpse, and disrespectfully shoved it off his sword. He cracked a satisfied smile and turned to leave as the Lifestream came, blasting Meteor, and taking the screaming spirit of Sephiroth, after being expelled from his own self.....

***

It had been five months since the Meteor incident. Sephiroth was gone. Meteor had been driven away. Junon was the new industrial ‘center of the world,’ after Midgar had been leveled. Kalm’s population shot up as people left the remains of Midgar for something temporary and close by. Morning shone upon the world like it always had in the past. Life seemed to be returning to normal. Except for the sole occupants of Tifa’s Sanctuary At The Edge of the World.

The outside looked like any normal two-story house, and on the inside, the bar on the lower floor was a nice place; opposite the double doors was the counter, equipped with several barstools. In between the counter were a few tables, four or five chairs around each. It even had a classically-made fireplace on the right wall, for the time winter came and people would come in-and-out. It was actually a bar/restaurant, for there was an oven behind the counter and basic ingredients and cooking materials in a mini-fridge underneath the counter, but hardly anyone came by to sample Tifa’s fine cooking, so it was rather poorly stocked. The upper floor consisted of Tifa’s place, where she would dress, sleep, bathe, and do otherwise when work hours were over and she finally got those few hours of silence that seemed so appealing while she was working, but were so deafeningly quiet and lonesome when she got to them.

At a barstool sat Cloud, silently sipping at his drink in an effort to ‘take the edge off of life’. Next to the fireplace leaned Vincent, using an old washcloth to wipe some grime off of his golden claw. And behind the bar itself stood Tifa, rinsing out one of the glasses. Cloud was wearing a variation of his usual attire; he still wore the boots and the pantaloons, but instead of the usual shirt and ornate belt, shoulder guard and gloves, he wore a simple black tanktop. To wear that attire would mean he had made it into SOLDIER; he had never deserved to be among their fine ranks, and Shinra records proved that. Vincent wore the same black, red and gold ensemble he had worn for the past several years, merely because he had nothing else to wear. But he still had his manners about him, and he would wash it every so often. Tifa too wore her usual clothing, sans the intricate forearm guards and gloves. It was not yet time to put them on. The time to put on her gloves was when her customers came. She would put them to use whenever one would try to get uncomfortably close at a bad time.

The three of them had developed a bond over the last four-and-a-half months; it had subconsciously occurred to them that they had something in common. Yet there was an awkward silence between the three of them, as if they all wanted to say something, yet didn’t quite know what it was they wanted to say. Or perhaps they knew what they wanted to say, but they were too ashamed to admit it. And without admittance to whatever was nagging at them... Nothing was going to get resolved, no souls were going to get comforted, and no one would muster up enough courage to finally break that silence.

The three of them did this every weekend.

To Cloud, Tifa, and Vincent, it initially seemed that they had individually discovered and believed that they didn’t have anyone or anything truly real to fight for. When they were to go find their reasons for fighting, Cloud and Tifa had remained at the Highwind, and Vincent had mourned over Lucrecia. But whatever reasons they had, they appeared to them later, after they were needed.

Vincent was convinced that he would never be whole again without Lucrecia. He even thought that he was going slowly mad without her, and that coupled with the fact that he refused to let her go would probably make that impression a reality in later days.

Cloud especially felt someone was and would always be missing, that being Aeris. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, whether it be out of love for her or regret at not saving her life. He had even begun to have nightmares centering around her death; frightening, dark nightmares that gripped his heart in the wrong way. Aeris had become such a prevalent force in his mind that everything, everything washed over his eyes like hot wax. There were still lingering thoughts about his childhood ‘friend,’ but those were usually quashed by more thoughts of the flower girl.

To Tifa, it was more of an unresolved matter; one that had been around ten or eleven years in the making. Yes, she too felt they hadn’t really had anything to fight for five months earlier, but she slowly realized that she indeed had someone to fight for. The answer was simplistic; her utterance of three words to one man would bury all of the self-doubt and confusion and the unmitigated misery that had been stored away in her heart from childhood. Yet it seemed hopeless for her. With her reasons came courage, or at least, so it should’ve been.

Courage they all seemed to lack at this point...

“Why...” Cloud finally broke the silence. Tifa jumped, nearly dropping the glass she was cleaning. “Why do we do this every time we’re here?” He had had enough of the damn silence after five months.

Vincent stopped polishing his claw, and looked up to Cloud. After a prolonged pause, he spoke up. “...Maybe we have confessions we need to make...” Cloud and Tifa looked to him, as if saying, screaming yes. But none of them wanted to make their confessions. Some sort of apprehension would grip them every time they tried to release the weights holding them.

But, just because they didn’t want to didn’t mean that one of them couldn’t force it. Cloud answered. “...I think it’s because Barret has Marlene.” He paused, mulling it over. “And Red’s got his Canyon. And Cid’s got the Highwind. And we...” Cloud made the realization that he could finally admit one of the many things that had been eating at him for under half-a-year. “...didn’t have anything to fight for...” He remembered one of the things he had said on a very distant yesterday, false as it had been. “I said I fought for the Planet.”

Vincent looked briefly to the floor, then to Cloud again. “And I had... Lucrecia...” Neither of them was entirely sure of their statements, like two school children proclaiming they relished in something they absolutely loathed just to please their popular classmates. Having their say, they looked to Tifa. She noticed the silence again, and looked up, surprised that both Cloud and Vincent were waiting for her reason. She quickly averted their gaze, looking beyond the glass she was cleaning, and to the floor.

“I... I had...” She stopped herself. ‘I fought for Cloud. Tifa wasn’t sure it was the right thing to say. She had always been a strong, compassionate person, well, maybe not as strong as she and everyone else would like to think, but that fear struck at her heart again. Millions of reasons flooded in her head about why she shouldn’t tell anybody. ‘He might not love me, or he just thinks of me as a friend, or Aeris... Tifa knew how Cloud had felt about her when they were younger. Felt, past tense. Now, it didn’t seem all that clear. It had been obvious that he had loved Aeris. And if Aeris had just been some normal flower girl she wasn’t friends with, she could easily bring herself to hate her. But she was a friend. She had been a good friend. She had saved the Planet. She was dead. Tifa would never, ever purposely hate the girl who had sacrificed herself for the sake of the lives of millions of people, the girl whom she had bonded with the short time they had known each other. But some days she did hate Aeris, and those days made her feel so sick of herself... She felt like she was choking on her own words, trying to loosen the grip of whatever was festering at her core and hack it up in a single huge release.

Their reverie was broken by the ringing of a bell; the signaling of a customer. Tifa fought her desire to send off whoever was coming, and straightened up. She was relieved that she could mull over things longer, but disappointed that she couldn’t confess to what held strongly at her soul. But there would be later dates. Just like there had been for the past four months.

----

‘Sephiroth...

...

‘What’s wrong, Sephiroth?’

...He beat me, Mother. He killed me without even trying.

‘You’re still disappointed over that? Don’t worry. I can bring you back again.

‘Would you do that for me, Mother? Would you really bring me back?’

‘Of course, Sephiroth. Anything for you.

‘You treat me too well, Mother...

...Is there something else bothering you, Sephiroth?’

‘Yes, there is. I’ve got an idea, Mother. I know how I can get back at them for stopping us.

‘Really? How can we do that, Sephiroth?’

‘Simple, really...

----

“Did you call a day off?”

“Sort of. Thank God for secretaries.” Reeve sat at the same barstool Cloud had been occupying several hours earlier, sporting his customary blue business suit, sans the burnt-orange tie, and a black knee-length overcoat. Across from him was Tifa, arms crossed on the bar. She smiled and shook her head. He had arrived about an hour earlier, and they had been talking about many subjects in the period of time. It was noontime, and most of Tifa’s loyal customers came by at that time of day. “How has the Planet cursed you since we single-handedly stopped the mighty Sephiroth?”

The word ‘cursed’ struck a nerve, but Tifa couldn’t let that show through. Save Cloud and Vincent, none of her friends seemed to get the chance to drop by, and she wasn’t going to ruin this now. “Well, business has been good... But I’d like to see Marlene again. Barret’s barely got a chance to stop by anymore. I miss watching Marlene shake up drinks.”

Reeve smiled sideways. “That’s gotta be a sight...” He sipped at his drink. The bell rung again. Tifa instinctively looked up to see who it was. A blue-eyed, black-haired man stepped in. He wore a pair of blue jeans, a white shirt, and a black jacket with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Tifa became slightly uneasy. He was one of Tifa’s true regulars, one of the few people who had been both a customer at 7th Heaven and Sanctuary.

Reeve turned to look at the new customer, his glass still at his mouth, then back to Tifa. He saw something odd about her reaction to the man, and immediately put down his drink, licking his lips. “You know him?”

She frowned. “Not really. He was one of the people who came in Seventh Heaven a lot, though. Out of all the regulars, he’s the only one who doesn’t seem to have a name.”

“Oh, really?” Reeve arched an eyebrow, then looked back to the man. He immediately noticed how he was looking at Tifa. There he sat, alone at a table, nervously glancing from the floor, then to Tifa, then back to the floor again. But it wasn’t one of lust, like most of the men who came and went. Reeve quickly turned back to Tifa, hoping he had avoided notice, and casually quipped, “I think you’ve got a new member of your fan club.”

“Fan club? As in the ‘dirty old men with wandering eyes’ section?” Tifa grinned, and began to mix up a Midgar Sunset. Another of the regulars had asked for one, and he hadn’t necessarily taken one too many.

“You kiddin’? That’s the way I used to look at the girl I liked in high school,” answered Reeve.

“Cheerleader?” Her grin broadened.

“Very funny,” he mused, polishing off the last of his drink. “Have you actually watched him stare at you, then the floor, then you again?”

“Yep. Its something all the hopeless romantics who want to find ‘the real me’ have in common. They’d rather sit and stare than get up and talk.” The discreet irony of her words slipped her mind. Tifa slid the Midgar Sunset down the bar, hoping the guy down there still had most of his wits about him. There was no shatter followed by the tinkling of glass; a good sign. “I’m getting sick of these guys...”

“You could still give the poor guy a shot. After all...” He paused, looked at his watch, and stood up, readying to leave. “...he could just be mute.”

“That’s a long shot.” Tifa started throwing another drink together.

“Well, time for me to go...” Reeve straightened his jacket, and came up with something. “Care to close down shop early to watch me conquer the world?” Poor Tifa seemed awfully down, and a good soul like hers didn’t deserve to feel like that. ‘Maybe she just needs something to do. Reeve weighed his options.

“Nah. If I close early, there’s probably gonna be a riot.” She shoved down the urge to take up Reeve’s offer, remembering her obligations to her customers.

“Wow. You got popular that quick?” He snapped his fingers for emphasis.

“Guess you could say that... Thanks for stopping by, Caitty.”

He smirked. “Now you’re gonna call me that, too?” ‘Caitty’ was the nickname that Marlene had given to Reeve after hearing Barret accidentally call him ‘Cait Sith’ several times. She looked down to the surface of the bar, losing herself in her own thoughts. “Another time, another space, Ms. Lockheart,” he added curtly. Tifa reached over the bar, giving Reeve a big hug. His thoughts were off the hoots and muttered-yet-audible comments such as ‘Lucky bastard...’ and more along the lines of ‘Wow she’s got strong arms...

“See you around, Reeve,” Tifa released the hug, smiled at Reeve, then turned to attend the bottles on the shelves behind her. Reeve bowed his head, then turned to leave. He was about to walk out the door, when he had another idea.

Reeve walked over to the lone man that had been staring at Tifa on and off for the past few minutes, and tapped him on the shoulder. The man was so startled that he nearly fell out of his chair. He looked up to Reeve as if asking ‘What was that for?’ Reeve simply said, “It might help if you tell her your name.” He raised his eyebrows to the curious stranger, then turned and left Tifa’s Sanctuary.

----

He was in the Northern Crater again.

He didn’t know how he’d gotten there in there in the first place, but, lo and behold, he was there again. Every quality about the place, the dank smell of the updraft, the cold and slimy feel of the stone ground... ‘Why do I realize I’m barefoot now?’ ...and the sight of those horrible, horrible waves of green coming from the very bottom of the Crater assaulted his senses. That same green had plagued him for over five years...

But that didn’t matter anymore. What was done was done, and there was nothing he could do about it. He was compelled to continue down the Crater, to where he and his friends had fought Sephiroth. ‘I made him pay for what he did. And so he did go down. He traveled through the caverns, over the pitfalls, and towards his final destination, taking an amount of time he couldn’t judge too well. He came upon the rocks he had jumped down in order to finally reach his great foe, and he did as he had done five months ago; he jumped from rock to rock, and reached the oddly-shaped platform near the bottom. Once there, he simply stood there, as if expecting something. The stone ground beneath his feet felt no different from what he had been walking on, except that it was smoother, and most certainly a bit more slimy. And it was unusually warm...

He looked down, expecting some ghastly sight, like a pool of blood, but instead saw something that confused him. It was indeed a puddle, but a puddle of what? It was thick, and had a distinct green color to it...

Then the puddle of green sludge rapidly climbed over him, engulfing him like a voracious amoeba that had finally found a bacterium it could easily digest. It swallowed him up, enveloped him in vileness, ate him alive...

Cloud snapped awake from his nightmare, sweating bullets and feeling an intense pain around his mouth. His gaze shifted around, and he could make out dim light coming from a window. He was still in his Costa del Sol villa. He had been having nightmares lately, but not like that one. He hadn’t had a nightmare like that since he’d eliminated Sephiroth, so it was surprising that he would have them now. He sat there, breathing heavily for a few seconds. The nightmares he had been having pushed nearly every thought out of his head, to the point where he would just do nothing all day except play the twisted dreams in his head again and again. He noticed a warm trickle of something on his chin. He wiped whatever it was off with the back of his wrist, then looked to see what it was. No use; it was almost pitch black. He precariously reached over with his other hand, blindly searching for the lamp at his bedside. He found it, and, upon turning it on, saw that the warm trickle was blood. He had been dreaming so intensely that he had bit his lip. A bitter taste began to seep in his mouth. He almost caught himself snickering at what he had done. ‘Some people bite pillows, others bite leather belts, but you bite your lip. Maybe that nightmare had been nothing more but a reminder that he would never be able to forget about that green-eyed demon or what he had to go through to finally get him. Or maybe it was an omen of bad things to come. ‘No. Not after all this. It’s not a signal of bad times. You just haven’t done anything interesting for a while, and your imagination’s beginning to run away from you.

Cloud got up out of his bed, and went to the bathroom, to survey and hopefully repair whatever damage he had done to his bottom lip. He flicked on the light, and looked in the mirror. He saw that the injury wasn’t too bad; it was only enough of a wound to bleed slightly. But he knew that if Tifa, or Aeris, or, hell, even Jessie saw it, they’d be all over him, wiping of the blood, gingerly applying disinfectant, then kindly putting on a bandage for him. He forced himself to forget that two of the three were long dead. ‘Happy days will drown the pain...He washed off his face, then applied the little band-aid. Yeah, he looked a little silly, but it should heal by morning. He turned off the bathroom light, but stopped himself from leaving. Instead, he continued to look in the mirror. Two eyes glowing ice blue stared back at him. The glow wasn’t relatively strong, but it was strong enough to let him see the outline of his face in the mirror. ‘Damn Mako eyes... The mark of a SOLDIER. He had strove to be like the best SOLDIER in all of the world when he was younger. And he had almost succeeded. In the Temple of Ancients, in the Forgotten City, in the Northern Crater, in Mideel... He’d nearly lost his mind because of the man he idolized when he was younger.

Cloud went to bed that night wondering if the Planet held some kind of grudge against him. If his last name was any indication, he probably wasn’t going to get any happier than he was now. Strife. What a cruel joke. And before he drifted off to sleep, the idea that the nightmare he had just had being a bad omen struck him again.

‘Is someone trying to tell me something? ...Can’t somebody else do the dirty work this time? If it’s nothing, I might still be able to tell Tifa...Fatigue threw him into the depths of sleep before he could finish his thought. It had been a rare one, a thought he hadn’t been able to think of for several weeks, and it was soon forgotten again. As he lie there, he began to twitch. The terrifying nightmares were taking over again.

----

Reeve paced back and forth in his office in the Shinra area of Upper Junon, mulling over yesterday’s visit to Kalm. Something hadn’t been quite right. He could feel it just hanging in the air. It felt like... depression...

During his days as the head of the Shinra Urban Development Department, he had felt the urge to be among the people. So that’s what he did. He dressed in casual attire, and roamed the streets of the Midgar slums. It wasn’t as bad as his employers said it was. They described Midgar slums as rat-infested pits where the scum of the Planet gathered and hung onto life like cockroaches in wintertime. Then again, those were the high-paid executives that refused to live life without such luxuries as bottled water and servants waiting on them hand-and-foot. They didn’t know what they were talking about. Then he visited Sector 3, and everything they had said suddenly became fact. Reeve could’ve sworn there wasn’t a stable house in the entire area that wasn’t occupied by a drug cartel or a thieves’ guild. All the people who truly needed the housing lied in the streets and gutters, too tired to move, and too hopeless to do anything about it. The misery there was almost infectious. Reeve had just wanted to curl up in a ball and stay there. So, he did know what misery felt like. And he saw what it could do to people. The was one particular image burned into his mind, one of a sad little boy... falling from a broken portion of bridge, loudly sobbing all the way down.

He wasn’t sure if the boy had jumped, or if he tripped, and he didn’t want to think about it. The scene played again in his mind. Now he just wanted it to go away. The image of the boy did disappear, but it was replaced with another image as equally disturbing. He saw Tifa, arms spread wide, standing at the edge of a cliff somewhere in the mountain range overlooking Kalm. Reeve shook his head and opened his eyes to get that horrifying thought out of his head.

‘Alright, you know she’s sad, but it can’t be that serious... But why would she be so miserable? After all, Cloud and Vincent stopped by Sanctuary every weekend, and he knew how much Tifa loved Cloud. Alright, he only assumed, but it did seem obvious, after all. He was adept at scanning face and body language, and every time he, or at least Cait Sith, had brought up Cloud during their crusade against Sephiroth, her eyes would light up like the embers in a fireplace, and she would just drift off. It was astonishing how Tifa just crumbled at the mention of his name. And it was equally astonishing that she could be that dejected when she had something to be so happy about. She concealed it a lot better now. When Reeve had brought up Cloud during his Sanctuary visit, she never once was not sure of what she was saying, never stumbled over her words to the point she would stutter, never fumbled with the drinks she made...

Then it hit him like a ton of bricks.

Reeve stopped pacing, then sat down on his office chair. He propped his elbows on the desk in front of his seat, placed his head in his hands, shut his eyes, and groaned. ‘Does he even have a clue...?’ Maybe that was the reason. Just a lack of communication, that was all. Sure, Cloud knew that she loved him, otherwise Cloud would either have to be still thinking about Aeris or just have to be pretty damn thick not to see it. Maybe Tifa thought that Cloud was never going to come out of his seemingly-eternal guilt trip that revolved around Aeris’ death, or she was just waiting for her feelings for him to be confirmed then answered in like... It seemed so ridiculous, that three little words would bring somebody out of a mood like that.

‘Just get one of them to say it, and they should all live happily ever after. Could it really be that easy? He began to consider his options, then realized exactly how naive what he would try to do was. ‘Play matchmaker? Don’t think so. It oughta come to them sooner or later. But I can still try and improve her spirits.

Reeve quickly formed a plan. He smiled to himself, and grabbed the PHS off its holster on his desk. Within a few seconds, he was talking to Cid. Within a minute, he had explained what he wanted Cid to do, and why he was to do it.

“Would you tell me why we’re havin’ a ‘little surprise’ for Tifa again?” Cid was without a clue to the reasoning behind what Reeve was planning. He had merely said it was a surprise for Tifa, but he had to have some ulterior motive, telling by the slight quavering in his voice.

“It’ll be a good chance to get everyone together again. Besides, she looks like she’s been really down lately, so maybe a pleasant startling will cheer her up.” Reeve was tapping a pen against his desk, eager to set his plan in motion.

“Tifa? Down? Now that doesn’t seem likely. Maybe it’s all the #*$@in’ pervs that come to her bar. Gets old after awhile.” He spoke from second-hand tellings of Barret’s experiences in the Sector 7 slums of Midgar. Cat calls and several variations of ‘Let’s go out back and get busy,’ were common there, until the big scary man with the gun for an arm stood over the infidels and told them to shut up.

Then Cid began to weigh the pros and cons. On one hand, he wasn’t obligated to help out anybody who was feeling surly or down in the dumps for whatever trivial reason. Then again, this was Tifa. And he missed her, and Cloud, and Vincent, and Red... He missed ‘em all. And Shera missed them, too. He had nothing to lose, except a few hours of memory if he decided to have a drinking contest with Barret again. Both could really hold their liquor, though Cid thought it was a bad habit, and he always got the worst hangovers...

“...Alright then. Your cat’s gonna bring her out to the field while you get the bar ready?”

Reeve’s smile broadened from ear-to-ear. “Yes. Excellent...”

“You better be glad I finished fixin’ it up in time. A goddamn pain-in-the-ass, but well worth it. Two in the afternoon, right?”

“Right. See you there.”

----

Three men, one with blond hair and two with black, and two women, one with brown hair and the other with blonde with a streak of violet, sat on a roof overlooking several buildings in Kalm. They stared intently at Tifa’s Sanctuary, evil thoughts playing in their heads. They all wore the same attire, blue pants, blue business jackets, and white button-ups. All five of them were Turks. One of the black-haired men and the blonde had their hair tied back in short tails, the brunette had untied long hair, the blond-haired man had his cut short, and the other black-haired man had a buzz cut.

“So when are we gonna bring the place down?” The violet-streaked blonde asked.

“As soon as the new Shinra prez steps in there again,” answered the blond-haired man. The other four hadn’t liked the blond man too much; they had always thought of him as too much of a country-bumpkin/thorn-in-the-side for their tastes. But he knew what he was doing. For instance, he had ingeniously placed a phone-tap in the President’s PHS, and they knew that Prez Reeve was ‘gonna throw a lil’ shindig for that stacked bargirl’ later that week, as he had so eloquently put it. So they professionally set aside their bias, and let him tag along.

Reeve didn’t have many friends among the other back-stabbing subordinates of Shinra Inc., several Turks included, though he had expanded their size into that of a small army, and made them into a special-ops group to ‘increase their usefulness’. Those in Shinra disliked him because he handed out pay cuts to employees who he thought were getting overpaid. Those in the Turks disliked him because the first assignment he had given them was to search for the Black Materia, which almost everyone thought was a complete waste of time. It was in the Northern Crater, a natural death trap that no one dared to go into and most who did go in didn’t come out from. Most of the Turks just thought they should leave it where it was, because no one would dare go after it. They were wrong, because AVALANCE had dared go down in there to kill Sephiroth, and had come out with no casualties, so there would always be someone willing to venture into the Crater. Reeve thought it would be better if they restarted the Space Program somewhat, and launch the damned thing into space, or even into the sun, where no one could get to it. But the Turks had to get to the Materia first. That single notion made them angry enough to want to kill him. What stopped them from taking action was the fact that Reno and his squad had no qualms with him, and that was enough to dissuade most of the other Turks from laying a hand on him. Hell, if they wanted too, the Turks could go on a rampage, a proverbial army of blue-suited thugs looting houses and assaulting people that looked at them funny, but they didn’t because Reno and his uncommonly small band of Turks disapproved. On the other hand, their little five-person squad was especially money-hungry; they had been planning to ‘dip into the Sanctuary’s funds for confidential purposes,’ and having the President of Shinra there only made it better. After all, he should have a very fat wallet. They wouldn’t have to worry about bodyguards, because President Reeve was confident enough that no one would attack him, for God-knows-whatever his reasoning was. The only trouble would be their uniforms, which they would change before they went in to clean the little bar out.

The violet-streaked blonde grinned. “We’re gonna have so much cash we won’t know what to do with it.” That comment wasn’t needed. They all knew that already. They also knew it was going to be quite a task to put down the eight of AVALANCE, of all the people. But, then again, not many people could resist knock-out gas grenades. And if they did, who would be so damn crazy as to bring their Materia-stocked weapons and armor to a party? Only Wallace would be definitely armed, because he had no choice. Plus, he was paranoid, so he always had the gun on his arm loaded with ammo. But, what was one gun against two Shinra Inc. Stun Batons, two pairs of brass knuckles, several throwing knives, and one old-style broadsword in close combat? The odds would not be on AVALANCE’s side. The brunette and the blond-haired man snickered to themselves. Things were almost too good to be true.

----

Rats skittered about the floor of one of the more cavernous areas of the Northern Crater. They had been motivated to take residency ever since all those monsters disappeared. After all, why let a good cave like this go to waste? Edible plants and fungi had begun to grow everywhere, so it became a paradise of sorts to the vermin.

An attractive smell snatched up the attention of a small group of rats. It was a nice, warm smell that was common in these caves. However, it was unusually pungent this time around, and whatever it was could probably be very tasty. The group of rats sniffed harder, and began to track the smell.

Soon enough, they came upon the source; a large, green, pulsating blob of steaming green matter with swirls of purple, teal, lavender, blue... It was colorful, which seemed out of place in a drab cave like this. Some of the rats got the right idea, and ran off right there. But there was one rat, one curious and very hungry rat who slowly approached the blob, and began to sniff at it. He was about to take a nibble at it when a green tentacle shot out, grabbed the rat, and dragged it into what he thought was going to be his meal. The other rats took the hint, and ran away, making a point to stay as far away from there as possible.

There was something in that blob, some form of life that gladly took the rat as a source of nourishment, something that was growing...

----

Cait Sith beckoned to Tifa as his robo-mog pranced towards the plains east of Kalm. “C’mon! You gotta see this!”

Yes, Tifa was a little irked that Reeve, Cait Sith, whichever, had dragged her away from the Sanctuary on such a busy day, but she humored Reeve, and followed Cait out of Kalm. However, she couldn’t hide her amusement at watching the mog’s gleeful way of prancing about. ‘If the mog’s happy, it’s got to be good.The mog increased his speed, and Tifa began to run after. Eventually, Cait and his mog stopped and began dancing in one spot. Likewise, she stopped where she was. Tifa was about to ask what the point of bringing her out here was, when Cait looked back to her, and motioned for her to stay quiet. This she did, and she began to hear an odd yet remarkably familiar thrumming sound coming from her right.

Without warning, the Tiny Bronco flew overhead. Naturally, Cid was in the cockpit, waving triumphantly to Tifa and Cait Sith. Until he nearly smacked into a flock of geese. Despite his excessive oaths and promises to have the birds for supper later, Cid kept flying high, pulling off a few stunts. Tifa’s mouth gaped open in complete surprise at seeing the Bronco fly again. Cid continued soaring, then brought in the Bronco for a soft vertical landing. Once the engines stopped completely, Tifa ran past Cait and to Cid. He leapt out of his prized possession, and stretched his arms and smile wide. Tifa practically leapt into his arms, and Cait could swear he heard Cid grunt with the force of her impact.

“Oh Cid, it’s so good to see you!” She barely managed to hide her joy at Cid’s marvelous surprise. She released her powerful hug, and looked eye-to-eye with Cid.

“Same here, Teef.” The crusty old pilot was damn sure not to tell anybody that he missed them as much as he did. He also was sure that he didn’t want to delay anymore than he had to; all the preparations had been made, and, telling at how Cait Sith wasn’t motioning for him to stall, he was pretty sure that everyone was ready. “I figured you’d love to see it, but, believe it ‘r not, I got somethin’ even better than this.” He was tempted to replace ‘believe it or not’ with ‘as much of a $#*@in’ lie it is.’ With the end of that statement, he bolted across the field, back toward where Cait and Tifa had come from. Cait followed suit, the mog hot on his heels and Cait himself hanging on to his mog for dear life.

“WAIT!” Tifa called after them, but to no avail. She was slightly confused at first, but then wondered why she was standing there. With a shrug, she began to run after them. In a period of a few minutes, Cid and Cait had reached Kalm. Without a second thought, they ran up to Tifa’s Sanctuary, banged on the door, and went straight inside. For a chronic smoker and a toy mog, Cid and Cait could run pretty fast, giving them a large head-start over Tifa. She had seen them go into her bar, but for what reason? She didn’t notice that a large red buggy was carefully parked behind a few houses. Once she reached the door, she grabbed its handle and gave it a hard pull. There was something holding it closed from the inside. She could hear the sounds of harsh whispering and the scampering of feet from inside. What were Cid and Cait doing in there? Tifa listened closer, and the sounds of whispering and scuttling feet from inside silenced. She let go of the doors, and continued to listen, a hint of frustration evident on her face. It was nice of Cid to come and surprise her like he had just done, but she was in no mood to be toyed around with. The double doors leading into her Sanctuary slowly swung open. Peering inside, she saw that every curtain was closed, and every light was turned off, save one. The only light in the bar was the light from the open doorway, and the single light bulb shining over the counter.

Behind the counter stood Cid, calmly cleaning out a shot glass. In one of the bar stools sat a leaning figure, barely noticeable in the dim lighting. Cid looked up at Tifa as she slowly stepped in, and gave a lopsided smile. “Welcome to Tifa’s Sanctuary At The Edge of the World. I’m your bartender for tonight. How may I get you plastered this evening?” Cid was somehow managing to sound perfectly curt, even halting his urge to have a smoke.

Tifa, both bemused and confused slightly, peered at Cid. “What are you doing?”

He kept the lopsided smile on his face. “Why, I’m simply the host for tonight. I assure you that, here, the drinks are good, and the people are just as friendly.”

The man leaning over the bar swiveled the barstool, looking directly at Tifa. It was Reeve. “Hey, pretty lady. Wanna come over and talk a little?” He slurred his speech a little, sounding like the perfect drunk. Tifa put her hands on her hips and looked mock-scoldingly at Cid and Reeve, not noticing that the Sanctuary’s double doors were being slowly closed behind her.

“You do realize that you’ve probably cost me a whole lot of business for the day?” she inquired, trying to keep the slight smile off of her face to retain her present air of seriousness.

Reeve shrugged. “So what? You’re among friends.” Tifa felt something latch onto her leg. She reflexively looked down, and saw Marlene hugging at her knee.

“Hi Tifa!” Marlene’s mouth was agape with a huge grin. Tifa tried to keep in her laughter, with minimal success, and scooped little Marlene up in her arms. As if on cue, the lights turned on, and Tifa heard the sound of the double doors latching. She turned, and was met with a wondrous sight. There, at the back of the bar, stood her friends. Every one of them, well, except Johnny. To the right of the doors stood Yuffie, Cloud, Vincent, and Shera. To the left of the doors to the wall were Barret, Red, and, surprisingly, Elmyra.

Tifa looked around, her face frozen in an incredulous but very much so gleeful expression. “You jerks!” She still managed to contain her hysterics. “You could’ve just gone to Costa del Sol and thrown a huge party there, but you had to surprise me and make all my customers angry!” Before she finished her sentence, she finally broke down, and began to laugh intermittently.

“How can you think of business now?! We’ve got catchin’ up to do!” cried Yuffie, holding back her inward desire to jump up and down, but still appearing incredibly effusive. Vincent and Red remained their usual dour selves, though Red’s eyes held an irrepressible sparkle to them. Both Shera and Elmyra were pleasantly smiling, for it wasn’t necessarily their environment, but it would do everyone good. Barret couldn’t wipe the smirk off of his face. And Cloud, though the unease was somewhat detectable, was also smirking a bit.

Within the next half-hour, they had exchanged embraces, reminisced about past days, and began felt better they had felt in a long time. Truth be told, it had not been just a get-together so they could cheer up Tifa, but it was for all of them. They had gotten too caught up with their own lives to even consider their friends. Elmyra and Shera both seemed out of place, but they fit in quite nicely. While they lacked the special bond that had formed between the other nine, they still could strike up old memories. In Elmyra’s case, they’d be sad memories, but welcome ones. All that was left to their day was reminiscing, and, if Cloud, Tifa, or Vincent hadn’t forgotten in the excitement, great release.

It was going to be a good day.

----

“I don’t understand what’s so bad about this ‘alcohol’... It doesn’t seem to be doing any harm,” Red wondered aloud, after lapping up another glass of whiskey, and looking a little foolish in the process.

Cid slammed down another empty glass. “Speak fer yourself!” he answered, his drunkenness beginning to show through. Shera stood behind him, almost coaching him on.

The hours had passed, and everyone had settled down to start conversations amongst themselves. Except for Cid, who wanted to see if he could drink Barret under the table again. Barret, however, refused to do so in Marlene’s presence. So, seeing as how Yuffie was a minor, Shera and Elmyra wouldn’t touch alcohol, Reeve and Cloud weren’t drinking men (they drank, but never to excess), Tifa refused to sample any of her product while on the job (it was still a workday for her, technically), and Vincent would just flat out say ‘No,’ Cid had convinced Red into having a drinking contest with him. It took about twenty-seven minutes to goad Red into it, but it was well worth it. It was becoming quite a spectacle, watching Cid trying to fight a battle he couldn’t possibly win. He hadn’t yet learned that Red’s physiology was radically different than that of a human’s in that he already had a huge, natural immunity to alcohol. So Cid was eventually going to get dead drunk and unable to stand up, while Red would be able to walk a high wire if the situation dictated so. After a few more glasses between the two, Marlene fell asleep. Barret didn’t live too far from the Sanctuary, so he decided to take her home and tuck her in for the night. Elmyra insisted on coming with him, for she had grown very attached to Marlene during the time of the Meteor.

Reeve, Vincent, and Cloud were sitting opposite of Tifa and Yuffie, with the ever-present battle in between. But that was just Cloud’s excuse to gaze either at Tifa or into nothingness. Reeve tried snapping Cloud out of his apparent staring. “You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

Cloud would normally be a little stunned at someone suddenly talking to him, but he had noticed that he was getting harder to shock lately. “Yeah, I do. Wish I knew what it was though.”

The friendly contest between Red and Cid was becoming an all-out war. It was still one Cid would never be able to win, but there was always hoping.

“I... refuse... to give up. Dang.” Poor Cid was barely able to keep his head above the table. The only thing keeping him in his chair was Shera, who kept a firm grip on his shoulders. Red was finally seeming to show signs of getting drunk, but that only made him feel uneasy. He felt fatigue building behind his eyes. ‘Great. Guess I’m finally going to figure out what a hangover is...

“C’mon Cap’n, you don’t stand a chance! You can’t even cuss right!” Yuffie crossed her hands behind her head, and reclined in her seat, very much enjoying the show. Cid sluggishly turned to her, and tried to give an incredible, scathing comeback, but, before he could, Red passed out on the table.

Cid stared at Red, obviously as flabbergasted as everyone else. “I... won!” He raised his arms in victory, but then passed out in the like.

Shera shook Cid, trying to wake the old pilot up. Realizing it wasn’t going to work, she sighed. “Poor Cid, such a short lived victory.” She hated drinking contests, but she tried to humor Cid as much as she could.

Yuffie reclined back in her seat. “What I’d pay to see them both wake up in the morning.” She suddenly yawned, and began to stretch. ‘Wow, why do I feel so tired?’ She openly asked, “What time is it?”

“Late. Most people should be asleep at this time,” Vincent answered casually, glancing at the clock on the wall above the fireplace. He couldn’t help but feel a little weary himself. He found that unusual. He could stay awake for periods bordering on days, and he had slept not too long ago. So why did he feel tired? Whatever the reason, it probably had something to do with the tickling in his nose. He felt like he wanted to sneeze. The feeling began to spread to his lungs as he carried Red to the counter, as Reeve and Cloud did the same with Cid. Shera was profusely apologizing to Tifa for letting Cid get that drunk again, but she would keep apologizing even after Tifa accepted her contritions, which Yuffie found rather amusing. Vincent looked at the clock again, to make sure what time it was. Something in the chimney caught his eye, and his gaze shifted downward. Something was smoking in there. He placed Red on the bar counter, and went to the fireplace for a closer look.

There was a gas grenade in there.

It was set for slow leak, and the bar was slowly filling with nitrous oxide, or whatever anesthetic or tranquilizer gas it was releasing. It explained Red’s sudden faint to Vincent, as well as the tickling in his lungs. Before anyone noticed, he grabbed it up with his clawed hand, and briskly walked to the entrance. His plan was to open the doors, throw the grenade outside, and air the Sanctuary out, but something was holding the doors shut from the outside. He tugged at the doors again, but they refused to open.

That got everyone’s attention. “Going somewhere?” Tifa asked.

“No, just trying to get rid of this,” he answered with his usual calmness, and held the grenade over his shoulder. Reeve was the first to realize exactly what it was, and the words ‘Oh, s@&$... were the first things to enter his head. A few plopping sounds from the fireplace attracted everyone’s attention. There were three more gas grenades in the chimney, all letting out large fogs of knock-out gas. Vincent furiously tugged at the doors, but to no avail. Yuffie and Tifa tried to open some windows, but those had somehow been sealed shut. Tifa had gone to the point of trying to smash one, but Barret had insisted in his paranoia during the bar’s construction that they be plexiglass. At the end, nearly everyone was trying to yank open the doors, but the fatigue was getting to them. No one was going to get out before losing consciousness. Within two minutes, all eight of them were lying on the ground, either out like lights or barely holding on to consciousness.

The front doors finally opened, and the gas began to diffuse into the outside air. Three men and two women, all wearing denim pants, scarlet jackets, and gas masks stepped in the bar.

The black-haired man with the ponytail, the leader of the group, shook his head. “All too easy... I actually expected a fight.” He looked to the four men and women flanking him. “Pick and choose who you want to loot, but I’ve got the President.” They nodded in silent assent, and went to a target. The black-haired man had gone to his reserved mark, the buzz-cut man with the shades went for the cash register, the violet-streaked blonde moved directly for Cloud, eager to do a little more than frisk him and wondering how the hell she’d take his shirt off, the brunette checked Shera and Cid, and the blond-haired man went to drag Vincent farther into the bar to examine him and Yuffie for anything they might’ve been hiding. He grabbed Vincent by the feet, and pulled him toward where Yuffie laid.

He approached Vincent’s head, and looked over his face carefully. ‘This guy’s pale as a lab technician.He began to reach for the part of Vincent’s ensemble that covered his mouth, when he noticed Vincent’s eyes were slightly open. They were also glowing red. A hand loosely grasped around his neck, and tightened enough to cut off most of his air supply. The Turk gasped for breath, trying to call out for help. The other four Turks quickly closed in, with the brunette and the leader taking out their stun batons, and began to beat the semi-conscious Vincent into submission.

When he released his grip, the blond Turk was sent sprawling to the ground, clutching his throat and gulping down air. “That *gasp* bastard was still awake?! *wheeze* I thought you said those grenades would knock anybody out!” He glared accusingly at the purple-streaked blonde, who was still stomping away at Vincent.

The black-haired commanding Turk waved his hand at the sprawled blond, and shook his head. “If he wasn’t out then, he should be out now. Just get back to taking whatever these people have on them.” His orders weren’t taken lightly, and everybody except the blond Turk returned to their victims. He merely stayed seated for a few seconds, waiting for his heart to slow down before returning to Vincent and Yuffie. However, he remained ever cautious of Vincent, not knowing if he might come around with that nasty-looking claw and slash some valuable part of his body.

It took no more than two minutes to rob the place clean of any goodies, hidden or easy-to-spot. They had taken wallets, pocket change, even the large sword and rifle that two of the partygoers they had knocked out had brought. The buzz-cut man had even found this interesting robo-mog and cat pair behind the counter that could probably be sold for spare parts. Afterward, they had begun to enjoy the fact that they were alone in a bar after closing time, and everyone except the buzz-cut man began to have their fill of delightful alcoholic beverages, but only after opening the bar windows and letting the place air out. After all, they didn’t want to fall into their own trap and awake alongside six angry people, one angry wolf-beast, and one exceptionally angry Shinra president.

The buzz-cut man was self-decidedly what he called ‘old-school.’ When in close combat, he fought with a sword, because he felt that guns were cheating. His main reason for using swords was that he had been a prime candidate for SOLDIER, but had been drafted into the Turks before he had a chance to enter. He also refused to touch any kind of booze or wine unless under very special circumstances, celebrations, weddings, things like that. There were many other things he would not do, but shoving down all that negative energy to do things that he thought were amoral had to go somewhere. The other four were dancing around, like drunken fools who could do this every single night for the rest of their lives. And he was kneeling over the unconscious bar waitress... Tifa, was it?

‘She’s out...

He reluctantly reached out for one of the straps to her top, but paused five inches beforehand. He continued staring beneath his sunglasses, and nervously set his jaw. She was beautiful.

‘...she’ll never know...

No, she could not be beautiful, she was only lustful. If she were truly beautiful, then his heart would be in his throat and he would never be tempted to do something like this. And she was awake, if only barely. He could see her mouth hang open slightly, as did most victims of the knock-out grenades, and he also saw that her eyes were slightly open. It was natural; the mind would often remain conscious though the body refused to take orders until the exhaustion went away, and the mind would usually lose consciousness shortly after.

...so it can’t be wrong...

There was a slight twitching at the corners of her eyes, fearful of what the strange man could do to her. There was also a soft moaning coming from her throat. By all he could tell, it was supposed to be screaming, screaming for him to take her money, go away, never come back, and leave her and her friends alone. He bent his fingers both out of nervous delight and mounting apprehension. Her eyes were glazed over, but she was still aware. Aware that she was vulnerable, and that she was about to be violated. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. She looked afraid.

...right?’

She looked sad.

The blond man, who had long drowned his worries about Vincent with beer, noticed what he was doing, and drunkenly waltzed behind him. His posture was imperfect, but his mind remained sharp as it always would be. He was actually a wonderfully cunning, astute, and quick fellow, but he always sensed a tension from the rest of his squad. He conjectured that was from his tastes, his sometimes stereotypical and assuming nature, and his unusual morals or lack thereof in some situations. That, and he liked to pull strings sometimes. Pulling strings was something he excelled at. “That’s not a bad hiding spot, actually. We haven’t checked her yet.” The buzz-cut man remained silent, not sure if he should give the bumpkin an answer, or if he should merely disregard him. The blond man decided to take a different approach.

“You like? We’re gonna take the Prez with us, so you might as well take her too.” The buzz-cut man didn’t utter a word, wondering if he should actually consider his teammate’s offer. The blond man, on the other hand, took this as a sign that he was reluctant to defile this already-unpure girl with his wandering eyes. He thought her as ‘unpure’ because nobody looking and dressing like her would ever remain ‘clean’ for as long as they lived.

“Here, lemme do it for you.” The blond man earnestly reached beyond the buzz-cut man’s groping fingers, and grabbed the front of Tifa’s top.

What came next nobody expected. There was a quiet cry of exertion, like someone would release while chopping wood in their backyard, followed by a loud crash; someone smashed one of the wooden bar chairs over the blond man’s back. The buzz-cut man quickly looked over his shoulder, and saw a man wearing a pair of black pants, a white shirt, a black trenchcoat with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and fingerless leather gloves. He could also spot black hair, some of it hanging over the man’s forehead. The buzz-cut man stood up, reaching for the sword strapped to his back. The mystery man took no time at all, and lashed forward with such a right body hook punch to the gut that gave the buzz-cut man no other choice but to double over and collapse in a gasping heap. The black-haired Turk and the brunette rushed forward with their stun batons out, not caring to ask who the man was and how he had gotten in. They knew he had taken out two other Turks; for that he would pay. The mystery man effortlessly knocked down the brunette with a right palm strike to her face. This gave the other black-haired man an opportunity. He lashed out and struck the man in the ribs with his baton; a move that would incapacitate any normal being. However, the mystery man didn’t even seem to notice, grabbed the Turk by the wrist with his right hand, threw a shattering left uppercut to the jaw with the other, and released his grip on the Turk’s wrist only to deliver a right punch to the gut that literally sent the target of his aggressions flying to the other side of the bar. The violet-streaked blonde was naturally shocked to see someone take out four Turks so easily, but still had enough wits about her to make sure he didn’t make it to number five. She took out several throwing knives and ambidextrously tossed them in rapid succession. The man with no name whipped around and glared at the approaching knives. They stopped in midair, a few inches from his face, one after the other. The knives then became white-hot, melted, came together in one ball of molten steel, and solidified into a perfectly-shaped cannonball. The brunette had regained her senses, and was moving in to strike, but the black-haired man noticed and turned his attention. The cannonball shot into her gut, taking her out of the short battle permanently. The violet-streaked blonde put on her brass knuckles, and rushed the man. He turned his gaze to her again, and she, like her knives, stopped in her tracks. The man glared at her with a look that said ‘Not so fast,’ and the poor blonde flailed a little as she floated of the ground. The man turned to face the front of the bar, and the blonde changing position to be in between his eyes and whatever he was facing. He looked to a window, thought better of it, turned to the front doors, and launched the blonde out through the double doors with a sheer act of will. The buzz-cut man had finally shaken off the intense pain in his stomach, and had unsheathed his sword. He ran forward, and raised his sword to prepare for an overhead strike that would surely cleave the man’s head in two. The man reacted swiftly, raising up his hands, and halting the oncoming bringer of bloody death between the thumbs and forefingers of each hand. He then bent it backward, a feat impossible for any being without strong heavy-metal gauntlets and even stronger arms. He in turn grabbed the buzz-cut Turk by the collar, and threw him out the door after his blonde friend. He did likewise with the other three Turks, grabbing them by their collars and seats of their pants, and throwing them far out of Tifa’s Sanctuary At The Edge of the World one by one. After tossing the last one out, he surveyed the bar, and smelt the air. The gas had quickly aired out of the place, and everyone would wake up in several hours.

He began to step back to the bar, but was stopped by a whispering call. He looked to the direction the weak murmur had come from. ‘Tifa.He smiled warmly, but that smile faded as he approached and squatted next to her. She was trying to say something, he could barely make it out...

Who...” She was trying to ask who he was.

He licked his lips, looked ashamedly to the ground, then back to Tifa. “I’m...” He was stammering, still too nervous to say anything. He looked to the floor again, and then finally gathered the courage to tell her who he was. “I’m Rha...”

Tifa fell fully unconscious before he could finish.

----

Red XIII felt wet around the face, and snorted to himself. He had been sleeping comfortably, despite his slight headache, and now someone dared to wake him up in this manner? Then he slowly began to recall the events of the night before. Drinking with Cid, feeling a tingling sensation in his sinuses, then hitting the table. Had he actually drunken himself into unconsciousness? Another splash of cold water in his face. He opened his eye, trying to focus on whichever fool would provoke him like this. After a few seconds, his view came into focus. Whoever it was was standing rather close, despite Red’s near lack of depth perception. He hated having only one functioning eye. But he was not one to complain about something that could most likely never be fixed. Red saw that he was still in Tifa’s Sanctuary; at least no one had decided to move him to some odd location, as he learned that humans would move an unlucky and temporarily-unconscious someone somewhere strange in an effort to play a trick on them. The one who defiled his pleasant sleep was Barret.

“What do you want?” Red growled, now fully aware of his surroundings.

“Fo’ you to wake up,” Barret answered softly.

“Why? I was having such a wonderful dream.” Red attempted to remain as civil as possible.

“Because we need someone to help wake up the rest.” Barret jerked his thumb over his shoulder, and moved to the side. Red could now observe that everyone save Elmyra, Vincent, and Yuffie, the last two recently waking from their unwilling sleep, were sleeping on tables, or so it appeared. Those who were sleeping were lying on nice, comfy-looking blankets. Red realized that he too was lying on a blanket; had it not been for that he wouldn’t have slept so fitfully.

“Did everyone decide to follow in my wake after I lapsed...?”

Barret sniffed. “I wish. See that guy?” He looked to Tifa, and Red noticed a black-haired man squatting on a chair, gazing into her face. Red didn’t know why this man had escaped his notice when Barret had kindly moved out of the way, but he saw him now, and there was something odd about him. There was something about the way he gazed at Tifa, looking like he was curious. No, that couldn’t be it. It wasn’t curiosity; it was longing. “When I came back, he was puttin’ blankets on tables. Says he beat the hell outta some bunch of thugs who came in to rob Tifa’s bar. He didn’t look like some jackass who stumbled in for a drink, and ev’rybody’s wallets and money are on the shelves an’ not in his pockets, so I didn’t kick ‘im out.”

Red paused, then spoke. “Who is he?”

Barret opened his mouth to say, but recalled that the strange man hadn’t even made an effort to introduce himself, and that when Barret had asked his name, he simply gave an odd reply. “I’m not sure. Said it wasn’t important.” Barret shook his head. “We’ll get to him later.”

Red sighed. There was something unsettling about this man. If Barret’s story was correct, then he had come in at the exact time a group of thieves had decided to rob them, and he had dispatched every single one of them by himself. Any group of thieves willing to rob a place like Sanctuary had to be confident, and were bound to have something backing their confidence. Yet this man claimed he had gotten rid of them all. How curious. Red would have to keep an eye on him.

In the meantime, he could help wake the others. Red jumped off the bar, and dunked his tail into the bucket of water that had been used to wake him up. ‘Who should I wake, pick and choose...One of the bad things about being the species he was part of was that his fur, when wet, was more potent than smelling salts. He had delighted in readily taking advantage of this whenever Elder Bugah fell into a drunken stupor when he was younger.

He went around the room, and ‘randomly’ chose Cid as his first target. Red dragged his wet tail under Cid’s nose. Cid unconsciously sniffed at Red’s tail, then inhaled sharply out of reflex. Cid shot up to a seated position, coughing hard and trying to expel the aroma of Red’s tail from his nose. After the hacking fit ended, Cid shot a deadly glare at Red.

That was for drinking me under the table last night,” Red answered Cid’s question of ‘What the &*#$ didja do that for?!’ before he could ask it.

Cid looked at him strangely, then cracked a smile as he realized that what Red said was true. “Oh, yeah! Well, you...” Before he could finish, he felt the pit of his stomach bubble. The smell of Red’s tail had apparently jump-started his hangover. Cid held down a belch, and managed to mutter “Be right back,” before running outside and sticking his face into whatever empty bucket was available.

Red, in the meanwhile, began to look from Reeve, to Cloud, to Shera, then back to Reeve again. He chose his next victim, and sauntered over to where Cloud laid. ‘A perfect target.He casually swiped his wet tail under Cloud’s nose. Cloud had the same response as Cid; unwittingly sniffing, inhaling sharply, and waking up in a fit of coughing.

After a few seconds of collecting himself, Cloud subconsciously ran his fingers through his hair. “Is everybody alright?”

“Alright, yes, awake, no,” Red answered, trying to keep himself from chuckling. “But, someone did stop by to lend a hand.” He looked past Cloud and to Tifa for a second, then returned his eyes to Cloud. He turned, and saw Tifa lying there, sleeping peacefully. And highlighted by the sunlight from the doorway, casting a dark shadow over Tifa, was a black-haired stranger. Cloud’s eyes adjusted, and he could’ve sworn he saw the man’s face twitch, as if holding back something. Maybe the sudden change from looking into dimness to looking into light was playing tricks on his sight, but he didn’t even regard that possibility. That man perched himself awfully close to Tifa. Cloud felt a quiet revulsion well up from the depths of his stomach. And he glared at the man. He could already feel the hatred growing in his mind, hatred for some stranger whom they apparently didn’t know, and yet felt fit to invade Tifa’s personal space while she was unconscious. ‘The bastard dares to...?’ He was taking advantage of her. Had he taken advantage of her while everyone was out? He might have, he might not have, and Cloud didn’t want to think about it. But he was there now, staring at her like some hormonally-charged teenager would at a smut magazine. At least that’s what he saw. He continued glaring.

----

She didn’t know where she was. She didn’t know, and she was afraid.

It had happened so suddenly. She had been with two of her companions, a gray-haired mercenary man and an ingenious lab technician, and something had gone wrong. They had been in the technician’s lab, aiding him with on of his machines when a tear opened up, and dragged her and the mercenary in. But she couldn’t know it was a tear in time and space; she didn’t have the knowledge to realize that it had been a rip in the fabric of reality that had brought out of the environs she was familiar with. Now she was in this wonderful grassy plain with the sun shining down on her. She brushed a lock of purple hair out of her eyes. But if she was surrounded by such serenity, why was she so uneasy? The mercenary, whom she called ‘Mr. Black’, was nowhere to be found, and he was probably the best to come to in a situation like this. She sighed, without a clue to what she should do next.

A male chocobo that had been grazing nearby peered up. He had heard the poor girl’s exasperated moan, and, wondering what it could possibly be, looked to the source. What he saw enchanted him. There stood a girl, perhaps fifteen or so, with deep green eyes and dark purple hair. She wore a complete, ankle-length, loose-fitting, black linen skirt with poorly done box pleats. She also wore an unzipped spring jacket with the sleeves rolled up to her mid-forearms over a deep blue short-sleeve shirt. The strangest part of her dress was the pair of boots she wore, which were mostly hidden by her skirt. The chocobo didn’t know how he could be charmed by a human, but he was charmed nonetheless. He silently approached the human girl, and warked. She hadn’t noticed the chocobo, and she was slightly started by his call. She turned to the elegant creature, and her spirits were eased. He didn’t look threatening in any way, not that she suspected him of anything. She was not the type of person to suspect much; she implicitly trusted everyone to the point some thought her a fool. They called her a fool because they didn’t know she was innocent, and she had nothing to fear from anyone.

The chocobo came closer, cooed, and nuzzled into her neck. She rubbed the back of the chocobo’s neck, and closed her eyes. Already she had someone who was willing to help her. Such a relief. After a few more seconds of mutual affection, the chocobo stepped back, and bowed down, motioning for her to get on.

“You want me to...” She spoke softly. She had a voice that made the chocobo’s spine tingle with tranquility. He looked up at her, warked quietly, and looked back down. After a few seconds, she obediently got on the chocobo’s back. Soon enough, the chocobo was taking his new companion off into reaches unknown to her. He knew that there was a town bustling with people somewhere around. It was good that she trusted him, or else she would be stuck out with all the unruly monsters of his world. She trusted him, and he went gallivanting off with the purple-haired girl in tow.

----

Cloud defiantly stood across from the mysterious black-haired man. “Who are you?” He gave it more like an order rather than a question. He did not like the way this guy had been hanging over Tifa. And anyone looking at Tifa the way that guy had meant he was no different than the drunks who came in day after day. Perverts given opportunities only led to trouble. And he sure did have the opportunity. Directly behind him stood Barret and Cid, who would’ve liked an icepack to put to his head right about now, behind them was Vincent and Elmyra, and attempting to wake up Tifa was Yuffie; all of them had been slightly startled when Cloud expressed his ‘dislike’ for the black-haired man. So Cid, Barret, Vincent, and Elmyra stood behind him, patiently awaiting an explanation for the man’s actions of the night before, and/or harboring surprise at Cloud’s contempt for the would-be hero. Yuffie, on the other hand, did have a better idea, which was to wake up Tifa before something bad happened. Red merely sat on his haunches next to Reeve’s spot, intrigued at this new turn of events, and coming to the slow realization that this could lead to a very bloody scene if nobody was ready to restrain Cloud.

“I, uh, I’m...” The man stuttered, obviously apprehensive and ashamed; he had not done anything wrong, but Cloud thought he had, and that made him feel guilty enough.

“Who are you?!” The anger rose in Cloud’s voice with the repetition. He went so far as to reach for the huge Buster Sword that he had strapped to his back upon waking up, but a pair of hands and Cid’s demanding prevented him from drawing it. On the other hand, no one in the bar restrained him from yelling at the man. Even Barret had not made the effort, though he had seen the man’s goodwill as soon as he and Elmyra came back to Sanctuary. Cloud’s paranoia was well-based; that they knew, but they did not know why. Cloud knew why. There were days when he came to Seventh Heaven, and had overheard punks wondering how they would take Tifa out of Seventh Heaven. Some would even go as far as to silently describe to each other how they would ravage her. Cloud knew that Tifa could beat the hell out of any drunk who would even try something like that, but he was sure that he left a lasting impression on them while they headed to their homes. Some never made it to the comforts of their residence in one piece. He would make sure they never stepped inside her Heaven ever again.

“But, I...” He stuttered again, taken aback by Cloud’s inexplicable show of fury.

ANSWER me!” Cloud shouted, making the mystery man take a step back and look down to the floor. Cloud opened his mouth to shout at the man again, but instead felt a large hand grab his shoulder and whip him around. He then felt a bucketful of cold water splash him in the face. Cid, with a glint of anger in his eyes, held an empty bucket in his hands.

“What’re you doin’ ya spikey-headed jackass? This guy didn’t steal any of our money, an’ he even decided to stick around to help, and this is the thanks you give ‘im?!” Barret’s hot temper had gotten the best of him again, but he had decided to put violence aside, and let Cid resort to freezing water instead.

“But-” Cloud started, but he was cut off by Cid, who threw another bucketful of ice-cold water into Cloud’s face.

“No buts!” Cid snapped. He wasn’t into excuses, and, to him, jealousy was an excuse. “You don’t need to bite his &*#$in’ head off, he’s just some unsuspecting guy who came for a drink at the right damn time!”

“Apologize.” Vincent only uttered that single word, but it could carry its weight. However, Cloud remained unaffected by the acts of the three, and did not feel even slightly apologetic. He instead turned back to the stranger, who meekly took another step back.

“Cloud?” Both he and the stranger snapped to attention. Yuffie had managed to wake up Tifa, though the effects of the knock-out gas had not entirely worn off. She got up shakily, slowly approached Cloud, and began to whisper softly in his ear. “Please don’t. He didn’t do anything wrong. Somebody threw some gas grenades in, and he stopped whoever it was from robbing us. He stopped one of them from...” She shuddered at how vulnerable she had been, and vividly remembered the two thugs standing over her, trying to expose her. And she didn’t even want to think about what they would do after that. “...touching me. And he’s been coming around the bar for a few months now, and he doesn’t seem to be like the others who come in...”

Cloud’s train of mind had already stopped when Tifa had called to him, but what she said now made him think. ...I did snap at him. Maybe I should say I’m sorry...He slowly turned to the man, who had been staring at Cloud through the tops of his eyes, but looked back to the floor when Cloud returned to look at him. The stranger didn’t seem to be a vile type. From the looks of it, he was actually rather... timid. Cloud turned to the stranger, who was trading his apprehensive glances between Cloud and Tifa, and tried to think of something to say. But what was there to say? ‘Sorry’ seemed out of the question, for Cloud thought one needed to at least know who the person one were apologizing to was, but he didn’t even remotely know this man.

Tifa turned to the temporary savior. “What’s your name?”

His eyes widened slightly as he took a step back, surprised that she was even thinking of talking to him. The voices in his head fell to a hush. “I’m...” Cid and Barret inched forward, both of them slightly inclined to yell ‘Spit it out already!’

The stranger looked from Tifa, then to Cloud, and back to Tifa again. “I’m...” He looked to Tifa’s feet, then smiled a little. ‘I can say it now. He looked back up. “My name’s Rhade.” The newly-identified stranger sighed, and the room was silenced.

After a minute of standing there and saying absolutely nothing, Cloud broke the silence. “Well, Rhade, I’m...” He cleared his throat. “...I’m Cloud, and I’m sorry for snapping at you.” He extended his hand. “Peace?”

Rhade reluctantly looked at Cloud’s hand, then into Cloud’s eyes. It was a short apology, but it was all that was needed. His arm went up, and the two shook. “Sure.”

Cid, Barret, Yuffie, and Elmyra broke into simultaneous grins, or warm smiles in Elmyra’s case, at Cloud’s sudden change of heart. Vincent and Red, on the other hand, decided to remain coolly mystified and cautious of this ‘Rhade’ fellow. After the waking of Shera and Reeve, introductions went around, and Rhade was thanked for his efforts against the group of five, who would’ve caused only-God-knows-what kind of destruction had they stayed longer. Yuffie went as far as giving the unsuspecting Rhade a hug, and whispering in his ear “Thanks for not letting whoever they were steal from a thief.” He was hero for the day, if only to he were remembered for that one act of courage. He smiled with complacency at his newfound acceptance.

It had been a good day.

----

‘The sky’s blue.

The gray-haired mercenary closed his eyes, and clicked his tongue at the back of his throat. After a few seconds of what seemed to be silent meditation, he opened his eyes again.

‘The sky’s still blue.

That would always be a good sign that he was somewhere hospitable. Birds flew overhead, giving out their shrill cries of being; an even better sign. He quickly sat up, and kneeled on one knee, to stay below the high grass just in case there was something around that wasn’t necessarily friendly. That was a trend for him and situations like the one he was in now. He’d wake up in some strange place, and the first things he saw usually wanted to kill him. He took his shotgun out of its holster on his back, and checked the chambers. Two shells. He took out a shell from one of the pockets on the inside of his business jacket, then tried loading it into the base. It wouldn’t go in, meaning it was fully loaded. He snapped his shotgun shut, and looked around; there was nothing but grassy plains. He looked down, checking his attire for any tears. Black pants, black business jacket, gray button-up shirt, black laceless loafers, black leather gloves; all in perfect condition.

He knew exactly what had happened; a rip in reality had opened up, and he as well as the purple-haired girl had been sucked inside. As far as he was concerned, he could be on the other side of the planet, or on an entirely different one altogether. ‘Name, Greyson Black. Occupation, full-time mercenary, part-time random task agent. Age...He recalled other facts about himself with ease. Being able to remember vital specifics was yet another good sign. Remembering them meant he hadn’t been abducted by ‘them’ and brainwashed to look for ‘it’. He had no idea who ‘they’ were or what ‘it’ was, but it couldn’t be good if they took a top-class mercenary and forced him to search for it.

The girl was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t like considering it, but wherever she was, she would have to go out and survive on her own. She could be anywhere; going out of his way to find her was out of the question. However, she was unnaturally friendly. If she came to a town of some sort, those living there should be glad to help her. Readying his trusty shotgun, he began to sprint towards God-knows-where. He could see that night was coming, and he didn’t want to be caught in the wilderness when darkness came. There didn’t appear to be any signs of a town or city on the dimming horizon, so he’d just have to run in one direction. If he came to a desert, he’d try to go around in. If he came to a coastal area, whether it be sea- or ocean-side, he would have to follow that. After all, most landmasses with a civilization advanced enough would have a few beach resort towns. Any town in general would do, just as long as he found it before nightfall.

The oddness of the entire situation didn’t bother him. He’d been dealing with this for most of the times he could remember.

----

Night had come. Serenity was in the air. Tifa had kept Sanctuary closed for two days, but she didn’t mind a bit now. She had been among friends for the entire time.

She naturally manned her station behind the bar. Sitting in front of her were Cloud, Rhade, and Reeve, and quietly talking amongst themselves in a dark corner were Vincent and Red. Barret and Elmyra had gone back to their homes in Kalm, Cid and Shera had gone back to work on rebuilding the Highwind somewhere around the Rocket Town area, and Yuffie had returned to Wutai to aid in ruling with her father. Thoughts of the two men, one leering and the other silently considering, kept pervading her thoughts, but she pushed them back to the farthest recesses of her mind. There was another thought that kept crossing her mind, but she didn’t push that back because it had been present since the first day Rhade stepped foot in Seventh Heaven. She felt she knew him from somewhere. She wasn’t sure where, and she was sure he hadn’t been too important, but he looked familiar. It wasn’t his facial features; when it came to that, she couldn’t recall him at all, but it was his black hair and his blue eyes. Those were enough to let her know she had known him at one point. But when...?

“A loyal patron, eh? Why would you want to go to Seventh Heaven every night, and not try someplace else?” Reeve asked Rhade. He and Cloud had been ‘mercilessly interrogating’ him for a while, trying to learn as much about this odd man as they could. Whenever they did ask a question, Vincent and Red would quiet down to listen, and sometimes go on silently quipping to each other while continually glancing at Rhade.

“It was a whole lot better than the crappy little apartment I had to go home to every night... And the name appealed to me. Why go home when I could go to Heaven every night...?”

‘Liar,’ Cloud thought to himself. He had dropped his dislike for the man, or he at least tried to. Everybody who went to Seventh Heaven had either gone because of the drinks or because they heard it was owned by a really hot hostess. He couldn’t remember when somebody came in to drown their woes every night merely by going there and not drink themselves into a stupor. And, instead of looking at either Reeve or Cloud when he spoke, Rhade just stared down at his glass. But when Tifa spoke, he would look to her with sparkling eyes and a small grin. Like it was too much of an effort to look right or left. But he wasn’t egotistical, he wasn’t constantly playing innocent like he was toying around, and he wasn’t a psychopath, respectively like Rufus Shinra, Don Corneo, or Sephiroth.

Cloud, Reeve, Tifa, and Rhade continued to converse, as did Vincent and Red. “He’s a bitter man,” Red whispered. “Unless he had a psychological birth defect of some kind, he must have his reasons.”

“His life doesn’t appear to be a merry one. Perhaps he’s resentful because he’s been confined to mediocrity...?” Vincent momentarily glanced to Rhade. He had gone into slight detail of his life; a humdrum existence at a nine-to-five job with meager pay, no one to go home to, and undesirable living space in Midgar. The notion to ask his last name, or first name if Rhade was his last, had somehow escaped them.

Red’s train of thought changed. “The only forms of solace were Tifa’s bars. You think he might have some sort of liking to Tifa?”

Vincent nodded. “He’s already made that obvious. Besides the way he acts when Tifa speaks, he was hanging over her like a hawk when she was unconscious, and I remember seeing him appear just as two of the thieves were beginning to look her over.” He had been slightly conscious after his body had given out from the combined fatigue of the gas grenades and being shocked multiple times with the stun batons. However, he did not realize exactly what the two men were going to do to Tifa.

“But how did he manage to get past five apparently experienced thieves?” Red whispered.

Vincent paused. Cloud appeared to have believed that it was Rhade who had thrown is the gas grenades, but because of his own eye witness as well as Tifa’s, that idea had been put to rest. But he and Tifa had no strength to keep their eyes open during their slow fall into unconsciousness, and didn’t see exactly how Rhade had dispatched them all, but they knew it had been a considerably noisy struggle. “We can’t be sure of that, but-” He was cut off by a loud rapping at the Sanctuary’s doors.

Tifa looked up from the three men sitting in front of her, and looked to the doors. “We’re closed.” She called loud enough so whomever it was could hear, and she successfully managed to mask her irritation. Usually, the sign that read ‘CLOSED’ was enough to ward off customers. There was another succession of noisy taps, then a loud wark. Tifa sighed. “Vincent, could you get that?” Vincent arched an eyebrow, then obediently went to the doors and opened them. Surprisingly, a large wild chocobo stuck its head in, and looked around.

“Whoa boy, stop...” Vincent attempted to restrain it, but the chocobo pushed its way into Sanctuary, needing to crouch somewhat before entering the bar. Everyone could see the body of the girl that was lying on its back as it fully entered the bar.

Tifa rushed out from behind the counter. “Is she hurt?” Cloud, Rhade, and Reeve shot up from their seats and approached the chocobo to get a better look.

Vincent tentatively pushed away some of the locks of purple hair that hung over the girl’s face with his gold claw. Her eyes were closed. “I think...” The girl shifted, and sighed. “...she’s asleep. Nothing to worry about.”

Reeve stepped in to examine the girl’s face. “She can’t be older than sixteen or so...” He stepped back. The girl had a tight hold on her ride’s neck.

Red noted the same, and stepped in for a closer look. “There’s no saddle on this chocobo. Never heard of someone riding a tame chocobo bareback before.”

Everyone closed in as Reeve began to lightly shake the girl. “Yoo-hoo, wake up kiddo...”

The girl moaned softly, and opened her eyes. She sat up, and smiled warmly, her eyes sparkling like two emeralds. “Hello.” Her voice was soft. The sight that met her eyes now was a satisfying one. She saw five people, all seemingly concerned over her well-being. She slowly got down from the chocobo. Vincent saw her unease, and gently helped her down. He, along with Red, remained silent; if she was able to ride an unsaddled chocobo, then surely she should’ve been able to mount and dismount one. Everyone else also decidedly remained silent, for they could not think of anything to say that would be remotely tactful, though Cloud usually disregarded that fact. There stood this teenage girl with beautiful emerald green eyes and a gentle smile who looked directly into their eyes. Normally, a person who would give eye contact like that would be unsettling, but there was something... disarming about this strange girl.

Cloud finally broke the silence. “That’s, um...” He cleared his throat. “That’s a nice chocobo you have there.”

The girl looked slightly confused, then looked back to the chocobo she had ridden on, quiet understanding crossing her features. “Oh, thanks.” She looked back to Cloud. “He’s not mine, but he’s nice.” Red took this into silent consideration, not yet having confirmed his presence inside the bar to the girl.

Vincent brushed a lock of black hair out of his face. He began noting things about the girl. She had a pale complexion, green eyes, purple hair, and, though she was a teen, was not tall for what he thought her age was. She was probably only 5’1”. “What might your name be, miss?”

“Angel,” she answered plainly, looking at Vincent. For some reason, he imagined that her name was quite the appropriate title. She spoke with an earthliness that... “What’s yours?”

“Vincent.”

Tifa, not one to shun another mystery guest, stepped forward next. “I’m Tifa Lockheart, and welcome to my Sanctuary At The Edge of the World.” She extended her hand, which Angel took without any delay. She was slightly surprised when no one else followed up, and looked to the other three standing behind her. “And they...”

Cloud, Reeve, and Rhade suddenly remembered their manners, and simultaneously extended their arms. As Angel took each hand, they introduced themselves.

“I’m Michael Reeve.”

“Cloud Strife.”

“I’m... Rhade.” Rhade once again had trouble introducing himself. When Barret asked him who he was, he merely told him it wasn’t important. When Cloud tried to shout it out of him, he stalled. When Tifa asked, he answered. But now he had no reason not to answer.

“And Red...” Tifa tried to look past the chocobo that had been standing there in complete silence for the entire time.

“Greetings.” Red decided to make his presence known. He sauntered into Angel’s line of sight, sat on his haunches, and silently cleared his throat. “I would be Red. You said the chocobo wasn’t yours... How’d you get it?” He was not suspicious, just curious. Cloud, Reeve, and Tifa made sure to hide their minor amusement at Angel’s slight bewilderment at something not remotely human suddenly appearing and speaking her language with seeming flawlessness.

She remained silent for a second or two before answering. “He walked up to me, and wanted me to get on.”

“He walked up to you and wanted you to get on?” Red repeated, unsure if what he was hearing was correct. Chocobos were friendly creatures that were rarely violent, but were they that charitable?

“Yeah.” She absent-mindedly ran a hand through her hair, brushing it off her shoulder. Red fought the temptation to snort to himself. This day was getting stranger. First some heroic oddball named Rhade, then this girl riding a wild chocobo...

He wasn’t the only one to think this was strange. Everybody thought this was strange. There they were, with no idea whatsoever on how to approach this girl comfortably without becoming too personal or exposing their own unease. Well, everybody except Vincent. He was not one to be so easily unnerved.

“Are you thirsty?” He leaned his head back, and eyed her curiously.

Angel’s eyes brightened. “Yeah. Do you have water?”

“We should.” Vincent turned to Tifa. “Two glasses of water, one with ice, please.” Tifa obligatorily hurdled over the bar counter, fetched some bottled water from the cooler she kept just in case she needed to water down some of the drinks she served to those who suspiciously looked like minors but had IDs that indicated otherwise, and poured it in two glasses. She snatched a few ice cubes from the cooler, and plopped them in Vincent’s glass. Tifa placed both of them on the counter, then took out the stool that was hidden underneath one of the bottle racks and sat down on it. Angel approached the bar, Cloud, Rhade, and Reeve politely moving out of the way, sat down across from Tifa, took the iceless glass of water in both hands, and took a long sip. Vincent sat to her right, facing her, and took a short sip of his ice water.

“Do you come from around here?” asked Vincent.

“...” Angel sat quietly facing Tifa, with her drink held in both hands, thinking over the question and looking down at her glass of water. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t live anywhere around, Nibelheim, Costa del Sol, Junon...?”

“I haven’t heard of those towns before.” Angel took a small sip of her water.

“Then where do you come from?” For someone who had been locked in a coffin for a little over two decades with nothing to do except ‘atone for his sins,’ and even kept to himself after being let out of his own private hell, Vincent was handling this beautifully.

“Foxton, California.”

Vincent paused in mid-sip and removed the glass from his lips. “Funny. I haven’t heard of that place, either. Are you lost?”

Angel sighed. “Maybe.” She turned towards Vincent. “Have you seen someone with gray hair and blue eyes named Mr. Black?”

Vincent shook his head. “No. Why do you ask?”

“I came here with him, but we got separated.” At least she thought she came here with him.

Tifa spoke up. “Do you need a place to stay?”

“Hm?”

“Do you need a place to spend the night?” Angel turned to face Tifa again. “The ferries should be closed, so they’ll...” She paused for a second or two to look past Angel and Vincent, and glance to Cloud, Reeve, and Rhade, who were still standing, and Red, who was still sitting, but leaning forward slightly because he found the present situation rather interesting. “...probably be taking the rest of the rooms in the local inn. So, if you want, you can stay here.”

Angel had another small sip of water, and smiled slightly. “That would be nice.”

And so it was done. Though Cloud did have the buggy, there was no way he was driving to Junon in the middle of the night, even if he did have the Buster Sword, Vincent had a semi-loaded Death Penalty, and Reeve had Cait Sith. The creatures that came out during the night numbered many, and he’d hate stumbling upon a Midgar Zolom in the dark and without any Materia. And Reeve could call on a helicopter, but there were no pilots he knew of that would have the guts to fly around at night, once again the excuse being monsters. Monsters that could fly and potentially blow up helicopters with whatever lightning or fire magic they could use. So he, Reeve, Vincent, and Red stayed at the Kalm Inn, meeting no resistance from the owner when Red sauntered in. He might’ve been covered in fur that would cover the floors and beds, but he could speak, and that was enough of an excuse for the owner to let Red stay. Rhade somehow disappeared somewhere along the line, of course after saying his good-byes to everyone. And Angel stayed at Sanctuary with Tifa...

----

He had not been able to make it to a town before nightfall.

So now, Greyson Black, mercenary extraordinaire, expert marksman, and one of Earth’s best physical fighters, sat in a cave lit up by a makeshift bonfire, reloading his shotgun. When dusk had come, he had been met by several unpleasant, large, green quadrupeds with red throats and generously-spanned wings. Whatever usefulness the wings had once had was eliminated by the sheer weight of the beasties.

They were dispatched with a few rounds, but he had begun to run out of shells quickly, and was forced to retreat into a small cave that the creatures couldn’t enter because of their hefty girth. Fortunately, he knew how to make his own ammunition. He had plenty of empty shells, and a few flasks of gunpowder, but he had no pellets. He would have to grind up a few loose rocks and use the fragments left over. He set down a few empty shotgun shells, and began to circle the cave. Its walls had a rather strange green hue to them, and were almost electric to the touch.

An odd sparkle caught his eye. He squatted down and ran his hands through the dirt, until he came upon what had given off the glint. It was a strange little piece of green stone that was spherical in shape. He would’ve easily confused it for a large marble had it been lying near a town, but he was nowhere near a town. It was a phenomenon of nature. He tapped it against the nearest cave wall, and decided it would make perfect shotgun pellets. Still squatting, Greyson placed the stone on top of a slab of rock, took a large lump of rock lying nearby, and smashed the little green stone. Surprisingly, the stone gave off a shockwave of icy cold, which knocked him off his feet and nearly snuffed the fire, when he shattered it. That had been an odd reaction. He mulled over what had just happened, genuinely puzzled on how a small stone could let off something so much like an explosion. There weren’t many explosives in nature, never mind green explosives that were as hard as rocks that let off endothermic bursts instead of the basic exothermic explosions. Then again, he could very well be on a different world with a different periodic table formations and very different natural substances. After getting back to his feet, he thought he might try a small experiment. He would have to be careful and swift to pull it off without potentially harming himself. Picking off all of the shards that could be used as shotgun pellets and leaving the dust that was left of the stone, Greyson took out a gunpowder flask from his jacket, and poured a little on the dust. He then began to tap the larger stone against the slab that the whole mess of gunpowder and green dust was on, hoping to get a spark. After a few seconds, the stones began to spark together, and he got closer and closer to the pile of powder. It ignited some of the outlying gunpowder, and he quickly dropped back. The entire pile ignited, giving off a small explosion followed by a peculiar reaction that froze the slab of rock in a layer of ice.

Greyson sat where he had rolled to, considering the ramifications of his new discovery. He had just found a new weapon. The shells with the fragments of the green stone would most certainly be useful against anything that wished to make a meal out of him. Something told him that there were more little stones like that, and that they too would yield the same interesting reaction. It was just a matter of finding them. He looked back to the spot where he had found the little green stone, then approached the area, and began digging.

----

Tifa suddenly snapped awake. She didn’t know why. Though her mental clock kept her on schedule, it was still early. She could tell by the dimness of the sunlight that shone through the windows. She sat up on her couch and looked to the wall clock mounted above and to the left of her T.V. ‘7:26. It was early. She usually woke up at 8:30 to have the bar open by 9:45 or so. In that span of over an hour, she would eat breakfast, wash up, get dressed, fix her bed, and clean the bar. She tried not to pride herself on being a neat freak, but she just couldn’t help herself sometimes. The pride that came with being well-organized was usually crushed with the recollection that she was in fact very very lonely.

But not today. Today she had a temporary companion. Instead of recovering a lost hour of sleep, she decided to go check on Angel.

Tifa had graciously given up sleeping in her nice, comfortable bed, which she would have an opportunity to sleep in every night for the rest of her life, and allowed Angel to sleep there instead. She had gone to sleep on her ‘living room’ couch. Her living room and her modest bedroom were separated by a bathroom, a closet with very few things in it, and the staircase leading to the hidden door behind the bar counter. Tifa got up from her couch, stretched, approached her bedroom, opened the door, and peered inside. Angel wasn’t in there. The bed was fixed, though. She closed the door to her room, and knocked on the door to the bathroom, which was next to her bedroom door. There was no response from inside. Where could she be? Tifa thought about it for a second.

Her train of thought was interrupted by a wonderful aroma. It smelt like pancakes.

She went downstairs to check over the bar. It was probably still a mess from the nights before, with the interruption by the five thieves and almost everyone being forced to sleep on tables. Then again, the chair that Rhade had broken over the blond man’s back had probably left the biggest mess, but he must’ve cleaned that up before everyone had woken from their unwilling slumbers. Tifa slowly opened the door concealed by one of the beverage racks, and peered into the bar. She couldn’t help but notice a chocobo staring into the bar through an open window with one big eye. But why was he staring in...

There was Angel, slowly propping chairs up on tables like Tifa did when it came time to sweep the floors.

The purple-haired girl looked towards Tifa, and gave a beaming smile. “Morning, Tifa. Did you sleep nice?”

Tifa was confused by this, but closed the door behind her as she came into the bar. “Yeah, hi Angel...” She noted the plate of fine-smelling pancakes that were lightly coated with butter, and the bottle of syrup beside it on the counter. “You fixed breakfast?” She forgot about the peeping chocobo for a moment.

“Yep. Have some.” Angel then continued with placing chairs on the tables. Usually, it would’ve been Tifa’s obligation to fix breakfast for someone she was letting spend the night, but this girl had woken up early, beaten her to the punch, and had even decided to start cleaning the place up. Tifa wasn’t about to question random acts of kindness. Well, it wasn’t random, it was the return of the sympathy Tifa had shown her when she offered Angel to stay. Angel actually started to sweep up the bar. It made Tifa feel guilty, letting someone who seemed to have no idea where she was do her work for her, but... Angel seemed so... so incredibly disarming... Though she had only known the little girl for a few hours, she already felt an air, a soft aura about her that gave off sheer gentleness and tenderness. And she appeared to enjoy doing this work. She’d probably feel even worse if she told Angel to stop working and let her do what Angel seemed to take pride in doing. So she pulled out the stool she kept under the counter, and slowly began to munch on Angel’s pancakes. They were delicious.

After a while, Tifa looked to Angel, and spoke. “How’d you make these?”

Angel stopped putting another chair on a table. “I used some stuff that you had under the counter.”

“You did?” Tifa looked from the plate, then to Angel again. From what ingredients she had stocked, Tifa knew she could never make pancakes like Angel had. She had pancake mix, milk, butter, and a few other things in the mini-fridge underneath the counter, but what had Angel done to make them taste so good?

Angel came over to the bar, sat on the stool across from Tifa, and looked in slight inquiring earnest at her. “Do you like them?” Tifa nodded instead of speaking with a full mouth. “Good.” Angel’s beaming smile didn’t leave her face. “You eat up. I’ll finish cleaning the floors.” Tifa tried to hide the confusion in her eyes as Angel continued doing Tifa’s work for her. Then the silence came again.

It wasn’t a bad silence, like the ones that had come when she got off work, or when Cloud and Vincent came every weekend. It was a more comforting silence that gave her an opportunity to think. She would always have so many things running through her mind every morning, but now she wasn’t wrapped up in preparing Sanctuary and herself for her customers. Instead, she was eating pancakes that some strange girl who had been sleeping on a chocobo fixed for her. Angel. She had spoken like it was her duty to take the burden of work off of her. It was a kind act done by a kind person, and perhaps nothing more. Tifa then discovered that she was already starting to grow fond of the girl. She had set aside her own personal troubles of being lost in an unfamiliar land, and had begun to indirectly ease Tifa’s spirits. She was such a nice girl, she was so... so...

‘She’s so like Aeris. The thought flitted through her mind. It was true. They both were caring, compassionate, and... Why was she comparing her best friend to someone she had just met? It seemed so unreasonable, just... It brought her to thinking about Aeris and Cloud. They would’ve made the perfect couple, that’s what everyone had said. Except for Vincent and Barret. Vincent seemed to keep as far away from discussions about romantics as he possibly could. Barret, on the other hand, somehow knew how Tifa felt, and he always stayed quiet about it. But that didn’t stop the others from unintentionally tearing her heart out every time they brought the subject up. It hurt her to know that she was only second best. She, Cloud’s lifelong friend and companion through thick and thin, the one who stayed by his side after everyone thought he was lost forever, and the one who had helped piece his shattered psyche back together shortly after, bested by a flirty flower girl who had died to save the Planet and all the souls that kept it alive. Then she remembered.

She hadn’t been Cloud childhood friend. That had been a lie, a lie woven so intricately that both she and Cloud had believed it. But they had only pretended it was memory. She could neither remember one time that she and Cloud had played the innocent games that children did, nor had the talks about bugs or town bullies that children did, nor had cried when the other scraped their knees. She had lied to Cloud so she could stay with him and be close to him. She had lied to him, and she was paying for it. Cloud had realized exactly how important Aeris was to him when Sephiroth had skewered her through her back, and now he refused to let her go. Aeris would never release the icy, dead grip she had over Cloud’s heart.

Tifa could never bring herself to willfully hate Aeris, because she would hate herself for spitting in the face of her friend, her best friend. They talked, they suffered, they bled together for the time they knew each other. She refused to hate her because now she was gone. But she should’ve hated her because she had taken Cloud with her. It was a mass of cyclical events that would have a very sad finish.

Poor Tifa would be left to wither away in her God-forsaken little bar that she had deemed her ‘Sanctuary At The Edge of the World,’ but should’ve been called her ‘Forgotten Grave In The Middle of Nowhere.’

“Why are you crying?” Angel’s words snapped her out of her reverie of self-pity and regret.

...Am I crying?’ She had been staring at her plate of pancakes the entire time, but now that she looked at Angel, she noticed that her vision was a little blurry, and that her eyes had begun to burn. She blinked the tears away, and pushed back the sobs that would escape her throat if she opened her mouth. “I don’t know...”

“...But you look sad. Is something wrong?” Angel cocked her head to one side. There was pleading in her face. She wanted to know what was wrong. It was in her nature, an unusual by-product of being raised in an uncaring household for the first seven years of her life, and a motherless one for all the time she could remember. Pain wasn’t something she was used to. Even while living in a home where she was ignored by her father, and constantly badgered and bossed around by all but one of her brothers and sisters, she had not felt true pain. She just felt a little sad because she didn’t know where her mom had gone off to. Her mom hadn’t died, for her father had received letters written in green ink every month or so from her. So she didn’t feel intense sadness, but it bothered her when she saw other people feeling that way. She didn’t like to see someone else hurt, and she liked to get rid of the pain that would plague people’s hearts. She wanted to know why people cried.

“...Yes...” She looked into Angel’s eyes. She wanted to pour her heart and soul out to this girl, something that she had never done with anyone else in her life. Why she wanted to escaped her mind, and the fact that she had only known Angel for a period of several hours didn’t bother her either. She was hurt, and she needed to release years’ worth of strain like Cloud had to her when they had nearly drowned in the Lifestream together.

And so that’s what she would do. “You, you remember Cloud? The blue-eyed guy from last night?”

“The one with blond hair.”

“That’s him. We...” Tifa sniffled, trying to find the right words. She looked to down at the bar counter, purposely avoiding the powers of eye contact. “We grew up together, and he... he liked me, so he tried to impress me by joining SOLDIER...”

“An army?” Angel inquired.

Tifa nodded, and sniffled again. “I really missed him after he left, I don’t know why. We really didn’t even know each other that well, but he told me he was going, and I wondered when he would come back. After a few years, he came back with two other SOLDIERs, and one of them, Sephiroth...” She held back a cry, but the tears started to flow more freely.

“...burnt our homes down.”

She paused, sniffling. “I nearly died that day.” Angel kept herself quiet; now was not the time for interjecting.

“Cloud saved me, and killed Sephiroth. But Sephiroth, he came back, and we went after him because he was going to destroy the world. We had a girl with us, a girl named Aeris.” Tifa looked up at Angel, smiling half-heartedly.

“She was kinda like you.” Tifa straightened her posture, and made an attempt to regain her composure, but continued avoiding eye contact. “She liked to grow flowers. She grew them in a little church in the slums... Sephiroth killed her. Everyone was so sad when she died, but it hurt Cloud the most. I think he was beginning to love her. He won’t let go of her.”

Angel tried to look Tifa in the face. “And you love him?” Tifa looked directly into Angel’s eyes. She finally had someone who appeared to truly understand. The world seemed to stop for a few seconds before three words easily escaped Tifa’s lips.

“I love Cloud.”

The world let out a sigh of relief.

She broke down crying. Angel rushed around the counter, and wrapped her arms around Tifa, racked with sobs caused by pent-up frustration, denials, rejection, and loneliness. She hugged Tifa tightly, and Tifa hugged back, desperately needing to be loved and comforted by someone, anyone who cared.

And into Angel’s shoulder she cried, “But he doesn’t know who I am!” It was a horrible exaggeration of the truth, but it felt too much like reality to be false.

Outside, the chocobo that had held to Angel’s side began to wark softly, like he understood the gravity of the situation.

In the shadows, hidden by a blanket of invisibility and unable to be seen, stood the black-haired man, Rhade. He remained silent, and wouldn’t let anyone know that he was there. But if anybody could see him, then they could see he had tears too.

----

Mr. Holzoff slowly descended into the depths of the Northern Crater. He had been waiting for months for the damn winds to die down, so he could go see what had happened inside the place. That entire lightshow that had gone on some five months ago had been pretty impressive, but it had also caused a big shift in the nearby weather patterns. Winds had picked up, temperature got colder, the weather pretty much got more violent. To be perfectly frank, it would’ve been a better idea just to steal a helicopter from Junon and fly to the Crater instead of climbing all they way there. But it would be just as worthless to get to Junon in the first place as it was to climb to the Crater, so why waste all that effort?

Eventually, he did make it into the Crater. The caverns were beautiful, really. They refracted the green light that came streaming up from the bottom of the abyss. The rock formations had some sort of unusual pattern to them, like they had been chiseled out of the stone walls instead of being natural. Holzoff continued his way downward, avoiding whatever pitfalls he could, and noting that there were no nasty dragons or behemoths waiting around.

He came upon one of the more cavernous areas. It reeked of rotten flesh. That didn’t seem truly plausible, because the last group of people who had been in the Crater were the oddballs led by the spiky-haired blond, and he knew perfectly well that they had come out alive. Quite a feat. They had been armed to the teeth, anyways. They weren’t as prepared when it came to clothing, but those were the breaks if you didn’t think ahead. Holzoff suddenly tripped over a stray rock while being distracted by the waterfall of green nearby, and nearly fell face-first into a steaming, bloody, rat carcass. He gasped, and pushed off the ground with his powerful arms and into a kneeling position. So that’s where that smell was coming from. You could rarely tell, with only one single carcass...

Holzoff quickly noticed that he was surrounded by little bloody corpses. All of them were of rats, and most looked like they had been partially digested, then spit back up. Some were portions of rats that had been cut off from the rest of their bodies, with no blood at all. Had he not had the strong stomach he did, he would’ve retched all over the cavern. It was a macabre sight. He wondered why he had not noticed when he had come in.

Another odor filtered through his sinuses, this one being sweeter and a helluva lot more pungent then the decaying rat flesh and nearly forcing him to gag. Holzoff instinctively began to breath through his mouth, knowing that he couldn’t smell anything if there was no continuation of air flow though his nose. Curiosity overcame his desire to get him out of the putrid cavern, and he instead decided to go learn what was releasing that stench. So he ventured deeper into the cavern, alternating between breathing through his mouth and covering his nose with one hand. After a few minutes of trudging through the cavern, he finally found the source of the smell, and was it ever a ghastly sight. It looked like two gigantic lobes of green goo, encased in a flimsy and translucent covering, and swirled with lavender, teal, and, most notably, blood red. Holzoff dared not to approach the thing, because as far as he was concerned, that was the thing that had been eating all the rats. Telling by the size, the damn thing could probably eat him, too. His best beat was to make a run for the exit before whatever it was noticed him. First, he had to slowly creep out of the place, and avoid making any loud noises. That he did with success.

Well, near-success.

Before he left the cavern the blob was resting in, Holzoff noticed something embedded into a rock formation. It looked to be the size of a small bowling ball, colored in a remarkable black sheen. Had he not known better, he would’ve said it was a bowling ball. The rock formation was easily accessible, so he slowly approached it, and reached out for the black sphere. When his fingers brushed against it, a sense of insurmountable dread coursed through his veins, and a single word flashed through his mind.

Meteor.

‘Holy crap.

‘This is the Black Materia!’

He had heard about it a long time ago from some blacksmith who lived not too far from the Corel Desert. He said it could bring forth the Ultimate Destruction Magic. ‘Ultimate, huh? Then who in their right minds would leave this thing lying around?!’ He felt an urge to take it. Surely, some other daredevils might wander up here, and he didn’t want to know what they might do if they found it. He certainly knew he wasn’t going to do a thing with the Black Materia, he still had a long life he wanted to live, so why trust its fate to some random bunch of thrill-seekers? Holzoff pulled out his pick-axe from his belt, and began to chip away from the surrounding rock. It fell away easily. He was able to grab the Black Materia with two hands and wrench it out. But he put a little too much force into it, and he fell flat on his rear end. The whump echoed throughout the cavern.

Holzoff’s first instinct was to see if that green blob of goo had noticed. His instinct had told him right; it had noticed. And it was reacting. ‘God, is there something moving in there?’ His question was answered when a broad bulge formed in the top. A pair of arms burst through the blob, and began to push down onto it, in effect pulling whatever it was out. It looked human.

‘Hold on, doesn’t he fit some description...?’ The facts collected into his head. That bunch of kids led by the blond had told him their story. They had been hunting a tall man with long white hair and a muscular build. This man did fit the description. Wasn’t his name...

‘Sephiroth?’ Holzoff scrambled to his feet.

Indeed, the legendary warrior stood before him, waist-deep in whatever that pod of green stuff was, totally nude, and covered with goo. He had been regenerating in that thing for a few days now, the remaining Jenova cells scattered around the cave coming together, and forming a melting pot. In that vat the cells took the DNA of ingested rats, and manipulated it into human DNA. There, it formed a body composed completely of Jenova cells and home-grown human cells, the perfect mix of alien and native. Using mass amounts of hormones contained within the potential of the rats’ genetic structure, a fully-grown body complete with hair, teeth, fingernails, and every single vital organ within the human body had been made within a span of a few days. He had been reborn, just like he had when he returned six or so months ago, with a few discrepancies in between.

Sephiroth exchanged his glance from the hunched form of Holzoff, to the Black Materia he held protectively in his grasp. “Bla... Black... Mah...” He drawled. Though his body had been reborn into the state it had been before his death, his muscles still needed loosening up, and he also needed to refine his motor skills.

But Holzoff wasn’t about to wait around to see if Sephiroth could still run. He turned around and bolted back where he came, racing past the rat carcasses and the green waterfalls, past the rock formations and the green glow of the stone. He didn’t know how fast he was running, nor did he know for how long, but he needed to get out of there. As he scampered out of the caves, objectives began to form in his head.

‘Alright, alright, what to do... One; get the hell out of here. Two; Get down Gaea’s Cliff. Three; Get back to Icicle Town, and hope there are still some phones working. Maybe I can find somebody who’ll get rid of this damn thing... Crap, Sephiroth’s alive?! This in no possible way can be good. I’m gonna have to tell someone about this too, but who out there would get rid of this rock and kill that psychotic looney again?’

Sephiroth attempted to remove his left leg from the pod he had been grown in, but instead stumbled and fell forward. He barely managed to catch himself, but even then small stones embedded themselves into his hands. He laid face-down on the rocky floor, with little rocks cutting into his hands. He was feeling pain. It hurt more than usual. Sephiroth slowly began to right himself, not being able to remove himself from the Jenova pod for the time being, and looked at his hands. He was bleeding. Not only did he need to practice moving, but he would have to wait until his nerves fine-tuned themselves and his skin toughened up. His own blood had been something he hadn’t seen in a long time, excluding when that black-haired stranger had lanced him through the chest in Midgar. He used to be able to walk through fire without getting burned, but now little pebbles could pierce his skin. A shiver went down Sephiroth’s spine. He’d have to find whatever clothing was left on any of the corpses of spelunkers and thrill-seekers who had stumbled into the Crater, if there were any. It was freezing down there.

But he didn’t mind. The fruits of his labors would be well worth the pain and the wait. He would have his revenge on those who had stopped him, slaughter some innocents, then summon Meteor again. He slowly began to tear at the skin of the pod, successfully extricating himself from the green mess. He stood at his full height, and stretched. If he didn’t find any clothes soon, he’d freeze to death. Then again, he could always hide in the Jenova pod to stay warm. In the meantime, his mother would supply him with minions that would go out and get everything he had once had. The clothes, the materia, the Masamune...

He managed to smile, and looked down to the pod.

It shifted a little, almost like it was sighing.

There was something else growing in there.

----

Rhade sat in a cave, silently rocking back and forth. It was a dark, cramped, rocky little cave; perfect for a time like this. To think he had been having a good day yesterday. But seeing Tifa cry over Cloud was just too much for him.

see? we told you to do away with him earlier and now look they don’t trust you they don’t like you because he’s telling them not to you might as well run away again like you always have what are you waiting for run away from everyone just run away run away run away run away run...

The voices in his head berated him for being so foolish. Maybe he should’ve listened to them. Maybe he should’ve killed Cloud off when he had the chance to make it look like an accident. Falling through the church roof, confronting the Midgar Zolom, falling far down the mine car tracks in Corel... They had tempted him to kill Cloud every time, but he wouldn’t do it because it would hurt Tifa. He didn’t want to do that.

Not like Cloud did to her at the Gold Saucer, huh? You would just hate to break her heart, wouldn’t you?

One voice spoke above the cacophony in his head. Unlike the others, it had logic, it had intelligence, it had a drive behind it. And it was the voice that Rhade disliked most of all.

It’s obvious, you love her, she loves him, but he loves that dead girl. You don’t stand a chance dumbass, so quit trying and get over it. You don’t need her. You’ve got power, and that’s all you need to get what you really want.

Rhade kept quiet. He refused to dignify that spit-in-the-face at Tifa with a response.

Damn you, answer me! His strategy wasn’t working. He’d have to think of something else, which he would, and he did.

You can punish them, you know.

...Punish who?’

Them. Those little s$#@s that were at the bar trying to feel her up. They were Turks.

How would he know that? They hadn’t been wearing the uniforms. Then again...‘But the Turks are dangerous.

Bad answer. If he had a physical form, he would’ve just smacked Rhade upside the head and glared very reproachfully. Damn. You’re a moron, you know that? ...Look, I know the freaks are dangerous, but you’re all-powerful, remember!? You can just evaporate them if you want. He quickly realized that was the wrong thing to say to someone like Rhade. Or at least get them in trouble.

‘Trouble?’

Yes, trouble. You don’t necessarily have to hurt them, just ruin their day, and that should be satisfying enough.

...How?’

Ah, Rhade had a tendency to fold so easily. Okay, here’s what you do...

----

...No... please stop this...

It was an odd place. No visible floor, sky, or walls. Just pale, yellow emptiness.

The floor was not visible, but it was still tangible. There were flower petals lying all about, so it existed. Shadows were cast along the ground from an invisible light source. Telling from the length of the shadows, whatever released that light was slightly ahead of, if not directly above, him. Cloud could not see his shadow from his kneeling, almost praying, position, but he could see the shadow of another.

‘Aeris.

He stopped looking at her boots and slowly began to shift his gaze upward. There she stood, in all her glory, looking almost exactly as he remembered her, sans the red jacket and the staff she used to carry around. The skirt of her dress was usually pulled tight around her, but now a cold breeze flowed through the yellow emptiness, and sent her dress billowing around her knees. The lack of the jacket exposed her shoulders, almost adding emphasis to her goddess-like appearance. One arm hung limply at her side, the only movement detectable being from the breeze when it floated through the place and carried the basket of flowers she held loosely in her hand. The other hand held a beautiful yellow rose. The rose matched the color of Cloud’s hair. Aeris held the rose tightly by the stem in her fist.

And the stem had thorns.

Thorns that stuck into her fingers and palm.

They made her bleed.

Part of her pink dress was stained red. She had been holding that rose for such a long time.

‘Please, not again...

The breeze continued to flow through the emptiness. It brought Aeris’ hair away from her back and into the air. There were no strings holding it together, but it stayed as a long ponytail, a huge twist of hair matted together, flowing violently in the gentle wind. Cloud ignored everything else, and looked directly upon her face.

She was crying. The corners of her eyes were scrunched up, and tears flowed freely down her cheeks. The little eyeliner and blush she had on was running down her face. Yet she kept smiling. It was a sickeningly sweet smile. Her lips quivered as she continued smiling upon Cloud, forcing herself to do so though the tears continued streaming down her face.

She looked so sad.

‘Aeris, please move...

So pathetically sad.

Behind Aeris appeared Sephiroth. The arch-evil. He lacked his customary trenchcoat and cross-belt, merely wearing his leather pants and boots. His silver hair flowed around freely behind him, and he towered over her. There was the sound of metal scraping against metal. Cloud knew what was next. Sephiroth readied himself, and raised the Masamune above his head.

‘Move! He’s right behind you!’

Sephiroth brought the Masamune around. Everything began to slow down. Cloud couldn’t move. Sephiroth came with a horizontal swipe that would most likely cleave the poor flower girl in two. Yet there she stood, knowing what was coming, and taking it, along with all the pain and suffering of losing her Cloud, with tears streaming from her eyes, looking like she could start crying any second. But she wasn’t going to do that. She was the Planet’s savoir. It was a sacrifice she was supposed to make. Sephiroth was still in mid-swing, and the blade approached her waist...

CLOUD!” Reeve’s shout snapped him awake before Aeris was chopped in two.

As he sat there breathing heavily, Reeve turned back to continue getting off whatever grime that had gotten on to his favorite shoes the night before. “You are one difficult man to wake up!” He noticed that Cloud kept staring straight ahead and breathing sporadically. “...Hey, were you having a nightmare?”

Cloud snapped to attention again, and shook his head. “No no, I’m fine.”

Reeve paused, and breathed out heavily, remaining tight-lipped. “Get dressed, we oughta get going.” He went to the bathroom to ensure he didn’t look like a rooster before they left, leaving Cloud still sitting in bed. It had been the same nightmare he had been having for weeks, but it still managed to scare the hell out of him every time he had it. And he would always wake up right before Aeris died. That meant the dream was incomplete, that there was something left of it. It was obvious what would happen when Sephiroth brought his Masamune though its full arc, and that would be Aeris dying again. There was a desire to see it, though. Was he some kind of mental case for wanting to see Aeris die again? No, couldn’t be. So he sat there, and continued playing the last few seconds of his nightmare over and over again in his head, until it eventually retreated back into the depths of his mind. Of course the nightmare would come back to him again, to frighten him when he had a good day, or just because. That was the way the nightmares were, coming up for no good reason, and jarring whatever pleasantness he had found in what would usually become a miserable little day in his miserable little head.

He silently got dressed, and left the inn. He hadn’t noticed that Reeve had left before him, because there he was, with Red and Vincent, patiently waiting. The four of them began the short and brisk walk to the little point that had been the center of their worlds for the past few days.

----

Reno looked down at his desk, barely visible between the piles of papers strewn all about it. His desk was a nice, smooth, flawless one. It was finely crafted out of the best oak that could be found, so it was expensive and durable. The top surface itself was a pane of glass embedded in a wood frame. Its drawers were generously large, perfect for storing the occasional bottle of a random concoction, or books and ‘special-interest’ magazines, in case the day dragged on. Very nice craftsmanship. He would occasionally lean back in his overpriced, not-too-comfortable office chair and put his feet on it to keep his blood flow going.

He hated his desk.

He hated the thing because he was behind it in his own office, and not riffling through the drawers, looking for classified documents in some other unlucky bastard’s rathole. No, this was his own rathole. An immaculate, vermin-free, quiet rathole he, the unlucky bastard, had been put in, until Reeve found something useful for him to do. Reno respected Reeve, the man had made it to the top of the corporate ladder without intentionally killing any of his superiors, but he was too goody-goody for Reno’s tastes. Life after the Shinra era was so boring, no kidnapping, murder, espionage... So what had Reeve done? He had temporarily confined Reno, Rude, and Elena to desk jobs until further notice. What added even more to the suck factor of the situation was that all of their offices were very far away from each other, meaning no casual talk during workdays, except during the short lunch breaks.

Sure, there was probably something useful he could be doing right now, but it turned out that anything useful also had a tendency to be very tiresome. He could be out salvaging anything useful from the mess that was Midgar. Bor-ring. He could be wandering around Kalm or Mideel, offering food and shelter to anyone who needed it. Unexciting. He could be searching for the Black Materia. Uninteresting. All of it. What a trend. All the useful stuff he could be doing was tedious as hell. Reno suddenly recalled exactly how bored he was. Since he had already read whatever books he had stored in his desk drawers, and had accidentally forgot to bring the darts he would toss at the pictures of Hojo and Scarlet on the opposite walls, didn’t matter to him if they were dead or not, the both of them were still hideous in appearance or attitude, he would read the report that had been put on his desk not five minutes earlier. He could tell it was a complaint already.

Subject: Request prosecution of the following Turk personnel;

- Fields, Robert A.

- Grody, Edward

- Tucker, Erisa J.

- Dulacross, Gwen

- Payne, Adam

Reason: The Turks in question are charged with destruction of property, assault and battery, assault with a deadly weapon(s), assault with intent to kill, attempted grand larceny, attempted petty theft, and illegal strip-searching.

These particular Turks pre-planned an operation where they raided a bar in the town of Kalm (which shall remain nameless for the time being), and attempted to rob those who were enjoying themselves there. One of those there was Michael Reeve, the current President of Shinra Incorporations. Why they were unsuccessful in their attempts remains unknown, however.

On another note, there seems to be several articles missing from the weapons storage area, specifically (2) Shinra stun batons, (4) brass knuckle gloves, (12) double-edged 11” throwing knives, and (1) Shinra Mythril Blade w/out slots. Most of these items are the weapons of choice for the Turks in question, and the matter should no doubt be investigated.

Submitted by; Langley, Martin

End of report. Good day.

Reno sighed, and bowed his head. ‘They assaulted Reeve? The s#&@’s gonna hit the fan now. I better do something about this before he decides to himself... A dastardly plan formed in his head, and he smiled to himself. ‘I can still have fun with the stupid bastards before Reeve gets back.’

Within a few minutes, he had the five Turks standing in a line in front of him, from left to right the black-haired man, the buzz-cut man, the violet-streaked blonde, the brunette, and the blond smart-ass. All of them were silently wondering why they had been called down to the head honcho’s office. Currently, the head honcho sat at his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb with his eyes closed.

After a long silence, the black-haired Turk with the ponytail stepped forward. “You... called us in, sir?”

Reno opened his eyes, not looking at the five standing in front of him. “I thought I had made myself perfectly clear...”

A short silence ensued, where the blond-haired Turk asked, “That we not call you sir?”

“Payne?”

“Yessir?”

“Shut. Up.” The venom in that last word was thick, and no one dared snicker at their dislikable companion. Reno stood up, putting one hand behind his back, and with the other hand holding up the report. “This report states that the five of you...” He glared at each one in succession, and began to pace. “...tried to rob a bar in Kalm.” All of them, except for Fields, the black-haired, pony-tailed Turk, were wearing their sunglasses, but Reno still noted that all of their brows shot up from behind their shades at mention of the last five words.

“That’s not true, sir.” The brunette successfully avoided stuttering.

“Dulacross?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Follow the same orders I gave Payne.” She tried to respond, but Reno quickly met her face-to-face. “Which, if you don’t recall, were to shut up.” He continued to pace, occasionally shooting a glare at anyone who did so much as fidget.

“I called you down here for several reasons and I expect no less than total silence for my explanation, which is as follows... Number one; this report states that you were unsuccessful in your attempt to rob the bar in question. What are you, rookies? Any good Turk can rob the desk of President Shinra , never mind some no-name bar in the middle of nowhere. Number two...” He smiled, reached inside the jacket of blonde Turk, and removed a single brass knuckle glove from the inside pocket. He dropped it at her feet, and she inadvertently jumped.

“...you took out several weapons without authorization. Those weapons were manufactured by Shinra, and belong to the Turks. It’s not nice to take without asking. Number four...”

He leaned back, and whispered into the buzz-cut Turk’s ear. “Undoubtedly the most important reason, but I’m saving the third for last because it’s the one I feel the most biased towards...” The buzz-cut Turk didn’t flinch, but when the blonde leaned in a little to hear what was being said, Reno raised the report as if he were going to whack her with it. She quickly recoiled.

Reno straightened up, and continued to pace. “...it just so happened that the President of Shinra was supposedly at the bar you supposedly robbed. No one has been able to personally contact him for the past two days, and one of his secretaries did state that he had gone off to a party somewhere in Kalm. Kalm is the location of a renowned bar owned by one Tifa Lockheart, who I would try to make amends with if I wasn’t busy here, just because she’s so damn cute, and who happens to be good friends with President Reeve. I doubt that’s coincidence. Now, stealing from Tifa Lockheart, and most likely the entirety of AVALANCE, might’ve been a bad idea in itself, seeing as how they’ve kicked me around a few times. But stealing from the President? That’s career suicide. Not just for you five, but for the whole body of the Turks. And number three...” He turned to look at them with frowning disapproval.

“I like bars. If you haven’t noticed, I go to bars with my partners Rude and Elena on a weekly, if not daily, basis. So, hearing that a fellow Turk has done so much as to attempt to rob a bar baffles... offends... and angers me.” With each emphasized word he slapped the report against his free hand, and with every whack, the five Turks winced slightly. “You should be glad that I didn’t hunt all of you down and killed you one-by-one when you least suspected it myself.”

Reno raised the report again. “This report also indicated that this robbery was premeditated. That this was a preplanned attempt to rob not only the bar, but President Reeve himself of whatever valuables he held. This shows that the five of you have great initiative, but not great ability, because this report also indicates that you failed at robbing this bar, and failed at robbing President Reeve. You could’ve robbed a bank instead, and saved yourselves the trouble. And, though it wasn’t a bad idea, we can’t have the snake biting at its own tail, can we?” He leered at the five of them, smiling contently and convincingly overcoming whatever anger he had, and replacing it with delight at having these five Turks squirm under his thumb.

“I want you five to report here at five-thirty tonight. By then, I’ll have confirmed this report with President Reeve, and have decided on whatever delightful punishment shall be in store for you. Good-bye.” Reno returned to his desk, crossing his legs on top, crossing his hands behind his head, and smiling at his effortless victory. The five Turks stood there for a few seconds, silently recounting what had just happened to them in their heads, and wondering how the hell somebody could’ve found out they had attempted to rob Sanctuary. Then they slowly filed out one-by-one, until Reno stopped them again.

“Oh, and if you even try to leave this building, I will either have security forcefully apprehend you, or have some of the more loyal Turks eliminate you. With extreme prejudice, I should add.” He gave a small bow from his seated position. “Have a nice day.” They slowly considered the implications of this, then left. Fields, the last one out, closed the door after himself.

Reno uncrossed his arms, leaned forward, and pressed the red button marked ‘INTERCOM’ on his desk phone. “Martin Langley, report to my office, now.” Releasing the button, he leaned back, crossed his hands behind his head again, and waited.

For some reason, his contented smile disappeared. ‘Funny, I don’t think we have anybody named Langley...’

----

Once the five Turks were out of earshot, they began to talk amongst themselves while continuing towards their barracks.

“How the hell did Reno find out we robbed that bar last night?!” Dulacross had a tendency to complain when she was caught doing something she knew she shouldn’t be doing.

“That report he had, dumbass,” Payne answered smartly, lighting up a cigarette and taking a short puff. “And that’s tried to rob the bar. Weren’t you paying attention?”

“Quiet, both of you. You’re not making this any better.” Fields gave it out as an order. Dulacross attempted a response, but Fields raised his hand. “And petty bickering won’t either. It might as well wait for when we’re off work.”

“If we’re alive then,” snapped the violet-streaked blonde. She ripped off her sunglasses, and shoved them in a pants pocket. She stormed forward, making her anger at being discovered obvious with a fast pace and narrowed eyes. Not only was she angry, but she felt a sense of oncoming dread, because she had no idea if Reeve was a nice guy during the day and a vindictive bastard at night.

“Do you even know what’s gonna happen...” Payne had started up again, but she ignored everything he was saying. She wanted to hurt somebody badly. Maybe after she got fired, she’d just grab some random musclehead off the street and start pounding him. Or maybe she’d track down the bastard that had submitted that report. Sure, she’d have to break into Reno’s office during lunch or some other time when he wasn’t around, but it could just be worth it. Her anger rose as she heard her partners continue arguing. Oh, she had to hurt someone, and she had to do it now...

Suddenly, a man walked past their group, grinning evilly at them, particularly at her because she was the only one who seemed to be paying attention to where they were walking. Reno had just paged for a ‘Martin Langley,’ and that was no doubt him. He couldn’t have been more obvious with a nametag... But it couldn’t be. Because that was the bastard that had thrown her out of the bar last night.

The only difference was that he was wearing a Turk uniform. Drunk or not, she’d never forget that face... She had been close enough to smell his breath, and she’d never forget... Why the hell didn’t anyone else notice him? He was there, walking right past them, walking away... She stared at him, eyes opened wide, craning her neck to watch as he walked away, continuing to smile at them.

Mother$%*&er!” She plowed right through the other four Turks and tried to run after him. The buzz-cut Turk reacted quickly, and stopped her by grabbing hold of her around her waist. Her momentum kept her going, and her feet swung madly in the air. She futilely tried to pry him off with her hands, still glaring at the black-haired man, who now had his back turned to them and was walking away rapidly.

“That’s him! That’s the d&*$ that stopped us! That’s f$*&in’ him! Lemme go!!!” She continued to flail her legs as the buzz-cut Turk dragged her into a nearby elevator. The doors slid shut, silencing her accusatory cries to the other three. A long silence ensued.

Payne, as he usually would, broke it. “Damn. Tucker’s really PMS-ing today. Must’ve forgotten her hormone pills.” Dulacross glared at him, fighting the urge to kick him between the legs. She had this name she used to call him, ‘Payne-in-the-Ass.’ She stopped calling him that after she found out how appropriate of a description it was.

He gave her an innocent look, took the cigarette out of his mouth, and spread his arms wide. “C’mon, you know it’s true. Hope Grody don’t screw her brains out in there, or else she’ll just have to b&%#$ all the time instead of using her punching bag because she’ll have to worry about a little-bitty Edward running around...”

She smacked him upside the head. “Shut up!”

He ignored it. “Hey, you know he’d do it, you saw him staring at that bargirl last night!” He knew that wasn’t necessarily true. Grody only did that when he was drunk, and even that was rare. But when he was sober, he would just stare or touch... grope, feel up, whatever. Grody was still a friend; there wasn’t much that could change that, not even petty name-calling and back-stabbing insults. He was just implying that Grody liked to take advantage of unsuspecting full-figured girls because he felt like getting under Dulacross’ skin right now. “It’s just that he didn’t have enough guts to rip her shirt off. I was gonna help, but then I got smashed with-”

“That’s enough, Adam.” Fields interrupted, then looked from Dulacross to Payne, obviously unamused. “I think you’re over-exaggerating his ‘problem’ a little. Besides, it’s best that he keep it to himself. Just as long as it doesn’t interfere with the job, it’s fine. Let’s go.” He began to continue their course, which was to the barracks. Dulacross quickly followed, disregarding their dislikable partner.

Payne popped the cigarette back into his mouth, relit it, and muttered through tight lips. “Inconsiderate jackass. ‘Just as long as it doesn’t interfere with the job.’ Yeah, easy for you to say, when your not the one under some medieval blue-suited d$*&head on steroids who wants to f&*% you but won’t because he has ‘morals...” He added a little edge and a little accidental volume to the last few words.

“What was that?” Fields shot a glare back at Payne.

Payne took the cigarette out of his mouth. “Just musing to myself!”

----

The hours passed. Cloud, Reeve, Vincent, and Red had arrived at a crowded Sanctuary, attended by both Tifa, and, to their surprise, Angel. It was genuinely strange on how she insisted to help with Tifa’s duties as barmaid. She served some drinks, and she cooked. Apparently, the two had stocked Sanctuary with fresh cooking goods before opening, and Angel was serving up brunch to whomever found the smell of pancakes or other such meals too alluring to pass up. Sanctuary could be considered a full-fledged restaurant now. Even stranger, considering that was a goal Tifa had never set her sights on. They even had a mascot, the friendly nameless chocobo that stood outside and greeted everyone warmly.

As time went on, it became more apparent that Reeve needed to get back to his duties as President of Shinra Inc., as his mobile PHS began to ring more and more frequently. So Tifa actually called in early. Angel, for some reason or another, absolutely insisted on staying to attend to Tifa’s customers. After what felt like hours of silent deliberation to everyone but herself and Angel, Tifa finally consented, for she trusted that girl implicitly now, but not before warning her of how rowdy the customers sometimes would get. She also gave Angel a quick tutorial on how to make some of her more infamous concoctions. She caught on very quickly.

----

“Yo, short stuff! One Bloodburner and two Sunsets, right over here!” A single gruff, unwavering voice called out from the other side of the counter. Angel was perfectly content serving drinks, cooking, and waiting tables for strangers. Most of the people were very pleasant, and only one fight had broken out so far. Six or so of the less inebriated patrons had generously handled that. Other than that one unpleasant instance, she found the temporary job rather enjoyable.

After a few hours, a familiar blue-eyed face entered. At first, he looked around confusedly, not sure where he was. Angel was busy making the trio of drinks to notice for the time being. ‘Weird. Outside it says ‘Tifa’s Sanctuary,’ but instead, there’s this girl manning the place who isn’t Tifa. Did I get lost or something? There can’t be two Tifa’s Sanctuaries, can there?’ He gave himself a quick mental kick before the voices in his head did it for him. ‘Now hold on, you’re being thick again. Wait, isn’t that the...His mind trailed off for a few seconds, the cacophony in his head a quiet murmuring for the time being, not taking the opportunity to insult his intelligence.

Angel passed the mixed drinks to the waiting group, then noticed the figure standing in the doorway, looking around like he had forgotten something important. “Rhade!”

Rhade leaned forward slightly, looking at Angel. ‘Yep, that’s her.He swiftly approached the bar counter, and sat down.

“Uh, hi...” He paused to try and remember her name.

The lone voice once again cut above the cacophony after a second or two ...Angel, half-wit.

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.

...Well, crap... Rhade was being sarcastic again. It was a very rare occasion that he had to worry about. It usually meant Rhade was getting his confidence back again, and that he would have to think of new strategies to knock it back down.

“...Angel. How’ve you been?”

“Great. Tifa let me stay here while she and Cloud go to drop off everyone else.” She began to rearrange the bottles on the rack behind her, but occasionally glanced to Rhade over her shoulder. “She told me that it might be a bad idea with some of the people who come here, but I think this is fun. Even Byrd likes it. How’re you?”

“I’m fine... I guess.” He quickly assumed that Byrd must’ve been what she temporarily named the chocobo outside. Not a very inventive name.

His confused look was replaced with one of slight exasperation. “I was counting on seeing Tifa today. Maybe strike up a conversation or something...”

Someone barked out for another order. Angel began to get out the proper cooking materials, but didn’t take her focus off Rhade. “Really? She said she’d be back in a few hours. They need to get to Junon, Costa del Sol, Cosmo Canyon, and Nibelheim.” She paused to count the locations off on her fingers. “I guess it’ll take a while.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Rhade crossed his arms on the counter. ‘I can wait.

Yes, jerkass. Waiting is something you’re very good at. That and wandering the world because you know you don’t have a purpose. Why the hell did you decide to wait for one? If you don’t have one, that’s usually the end of it, right?

...That’s a lie.

Oh, really? The only thing you accomplished is killing Sephiroth, and Strife coulda done that all by himself. The world’s eventually gonna find a way to screw you again.

‘Shut up, already. I intend on having a mildly decent day, and I don’t need you to bother me.

...Damn you.

‘Good for me.

----

“Are we just being paranoid?” Red asked aloud. Vincent considered the statement.

“If we were to ask someone else about this, that would probably be the first thought...” He averted his eyes for a second, as to make sure Cloud and Tifa were still with each other, and not eavesdropping. He and Red were standing in front of the opening leading into the weapon shop’s cavern, and Cloud and Tifa sat around the Cosmo Candle. “I’m not quite sure why, but I still do not trust... Rhade... His story sounds off. Fighting an armed group of five...? Something’s not right about him.”

“And what are you going to do?” Red shifted his weight off his haunches for a second.

“...I’m not going back to Nibelheim. Not for now, anyways.”

“You’re going to go back to Kalm with Tifa?”

“It seems to be the reasonable thing to do.”

“Are you positive about that? Perhaps he just doesn’t wish to see Tifa get hurt. Maybe that’s the reason he stays around?”

“No. That can’t be all. You know that. You saw him watching over her. He has something else in mind. It might not be a sinister intention, but I would still like to find out what his reasoning could be.”

“...” Red was suddenly struck with an idea. “He might just be another drunkard that comes to Sanctuary to sit and stare. He was just presented with a chance to become a factor in Tifa’s life beyond her work, and he seized it.”

Vincent steeled his gaze. ‘You know what I’m going to say next.

Red looked skyward for a split-second. “Yes, I know. The five thieves. Maybe they became too intoxicated to fight...”

“Maybe I can get the complete story out of him if he comes back again...?”

Red sighed, and shook his head slowly. “You do realize that we’re probably over-thinking this whole matter?”

Vincent thought. “Actually, yes. But better to make sure a gun is unloaded before putting it to your foot and pulling the trigger.”

Red lowered his gaze for a second. “Interesting analogy...” He looked down to Tifa and Cloud, who sat around the Cosmo Candle. They obviously weren’t talking, and it didn’t look to be a fulfilling conversation either. Red looked back to Vincent, with the playings of a smile on his scarred countenance. “In that case, good luck Vincent Valentine. May Rhade not be another megalomaniac bent on destroying a good part of the Planet and conquering the rest. And try not to hurt yourself in the process.”

“Good-bye, Nanaki.” Vincent bowed his head slightly. Red turned, and sauntered back into the cavern. After Red disappeared into the cavern, Vincent turned, and began to slowly descend down the stone staircase. Driving back to Costa del Sol, then traversing across the ocean, then driving back to Kalm would take several hours. By looking at the sky, he could tell that they probably wouldn’t be home before night came. ‘Time to leave...

----

Rhade was still waiting.

He had been waiting so long that there was not a soul left in Sanctuary, save he and Angel. He had been sitting on the same barstool for many hours. In that time he had just let the entire world pass by him like a river, the people coming and going. Rhade had been sitting in the same place for such a long time that some of the patrons would ask him if he was okay. But he simply sat there, thinking. A few belligerent drunks became angry at the fact that he didn’t respond, but even when they threatened to hurt him, he kept to himself. They never got the chance to hurt him, anyways. As soon as anyone muttered the word ‘kill’ they were restrained. He didn’t really care for the rest of the world around him. He just continued thinking and staring at the bar counter.

Angel, on the other hand, cared to the utmost. However, she had been too distracted with the orders from other customers to notice that he was still waiting there. She noticed now, though.

“Are you thirsty?” She bent down to meet his gaze.

His concentration snapped, and he jumped slightly. “Ah, no.”

Angel stood at her full height. “But you’ve been sitting there for hours, and you haven’t had anything. Are you sure?”

“Yes, thanks.” He waved her off, and tried to continue staring at the counter.

There was a moment of silence, in which Angel kept cleaning some of the glasses. She set it aside. “You must really like Tifa if you can wait this long for her.” Rhade looked back up to her with a start.

I know what you’re thinking. ‘Damn! Am I that transparent?’ For your information, you are that easy to see through, smart guy.

‘Shut up.

“Well...” Rhade nervously scratched the back of his neck.

Angel smiled. “You do, don’t you?”

“...Yes.” Someone other than himself had finally made him admit it.

“So, why?” She arched an eyebrow in interest.

Rhade clasped his hands on the counter. “You want me to explain.”

“Mm-hm.” She hastily pulled out the stool Tifa kept under the counter, and sat down. She leaned forward slightly, with her forearms resting on the counter and her hands also clasped together.

“...Well, she’s nice... And pretty. And nice.”

“You said that already.”

“It’s a point that needs to be repeated,” Rhade mused. “She was one of the only people who dared talk to me...”

“But don’t the others talk to you? Cloud, Vincent...”

“I’m not part of her circle of friends.” He paused. “I used to be, though.” ‘Oh, crap! How’d I let that get out?!’ Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear his own voice muttering random insults about his intelligence.

“Used to?”

Rhade broke eye contact and stared off at a section of the counter to his right. “...Yeah, used to. A long time ago.”

“Did you grow up in Nibelheim, too?”

‘No use to resist now. “Well, yeah.” He made eye contact again. “...Tifa was the popular one in town. Everyone liked her, but no one really noticed me. Then Tifa decided to talk to me one day. We became friends.” He smiled dryly, lowering his brow. “I was a part of her ‘clique,’ then. I was accepted into her little group.” He paused.

“But why ‘used to’?” Angel was still smiling a little.

His heart skipped a beat.

...I really don’t want to remember that.

“Uh...”

‘But I guess I have no choice now.

A few images flashed through his head as he remember exactly why he ‘used to be’ one of Tifa’s friends. Rhade shuddered.

Rhade pursed his lips. “Tifa’s mom died.” Angel gasped slightly.

“It really hurt her.” He swallowed deeply. “We tried to comfort her, but she wanted to see Mommy. We were kids, so we weren’t really sure how to deal with it. Tifa thought she did, though. She convinced herself that her mom was just somewhere in the mountains. So she went there, and we followed her like little sheep that didn’t want to get separated from their herder. Cloud was there, too. I wondered why he came.”

He licked his lips, and shifted one the barstool. “There was this bridge. It was old and rickety because it was one of those ancient rope-and-wood bridges, and as she went along...” He unclasped his hands, and ‘walked’ with his index and middle fingers of his right hand.

“Somebody would leave because they were afraid they’d fall... I remember looking down, and I was so high up I got dizzy...” He stopped walking his hand, and spread out his fingers.

“That’s when I ran away.” He brought his hand down on the counter with a resounding *whump*. “I heard later that the bridge collapsed. She got really hurt, didn’t wake up for a week. Cloud had fallen too, but all he did was bruise his legs... That’s why I used to be her friend. Because I left her when she needed someone. I felt too guilty to talk to her after that.”

He sighed discontentedly. “Maybe I could’ve stopped her from going over that stupid bridge... Well, a lot of time passed. Everyone seemed really miserable. Tifa, me...” He hid the sneer forming on his lips. “Then Sephiroth came.”

“The one who burned down...”

“How do you know that?” he quickly interrupted.

“Tifa told me.”

“...She told you that story?” After he asked, Angel nodded mutely. “Really... Of all the bastards Shinra sent, it was a walking nutcase with a sword longer than he was tall. I was just hanging around the house, because I really had no clue that he was there. A week after he arrived, I smelled smoke.” He shut his eyes and stopped himself from grimacing. “My house, her entire town was on fire. I watched him as he mowed down everyone he saw. I was really scared of him. I just stood there for a while...”

...crying my eyes out...

“...and when I got myself together again, I went after him. He went to the mountains, and I followed him. He went to a...”

...Mako Reactor. Wait, she might not know what those are.

“...building in the mountains, and by the time I got there...” Rhade shuddered as the images went off like flash bulbs in his head.

“...he had killed Tifa’s dad. I got in, and...” He gulped down the knot forming in his throat. “There was Tifa, Cloud, and some SOLDIER. Cloud and the SOLDIER looked pretty bad off, but Tifa, she got it the worst. Cut down the chest. I panicked. Everything was going wrong. He burned down her hometown, killed her father, nearly killed her... I didn’t know what to do, so I picked her up, left the other two there, and ran. Someone, her instructor found me carrying her, and we brought Tifa to the nearest hospital. I asked him not to tell me I had ever been there, and left...”

He began to clench and unclench his left fist. “I still wanted to get back at Sephiroth, though. He left her nearly dead. But, even if I did find him, I didn’t nearly have...”

...the power...’

He suddenly felt the urge to tell Angel something.

He shifted in his seat, as if prepping himself for interviewing someone. “Do you know what omnipotence is?”

Angel shook her head slowly after a second. “No, not really.”

Rhade breathed in deeply. “It’s all-powerfulness. Godliness. You can literally will anything you want. Let’s say...” He reached into a jacket pocket, and pulled out an apple. “...if you wanted an apple, then you could simply think, and you’d have one.”

“Or maybe if you wanted an orange...” The apple suddenly turned into an orange. Angel’s eyes widened. “You could get an orange.” He put the orange back into his pocket. Angel stared at him with wide eyes.

“After I left Tifa at the hospital, I didn’t know what to do, so I just wandered. I didn’t keep track of how long I did, but after what felt like a few weeks to me, I found something. It was in this cave. It was like a well of water, but it was black. The only thing you could see in it were these little white streams... I stared at it for a long time, because it was just so relaxing, watching those little white steams flow around...”

Rhade swallowed hard. “I guess I jumped into it, I can’t really remember that well... But, whatever it was, it gave me power...” Rhade clenched his left fist, which was still resting on the counter.

“So I tracked down Sephiroth, and I killed him.” He sighed, and looked down to the counter again.

Angel continued staring wide-eyed at him. “Are you...”

“Omnipotent? Yep. Guess I pretty much gave myself away with that apple thing... Just keep it our little secret.” He diverted his gaze back to Angel. “Do you think Tifa likes me? I know she doesn’t recognize me after a few years...”

Angel licked her lips, then answered slowly, “...I don’t think so...”

Rhade sighed heavily, then hung his head abruptly. “...Figures.” He raised his head back up, with a look of slight realization on his face. “Is she happy? Do you know?”

Angel shifted in her seat. “Not... not really... I’m not sure.”

“Oh.” Rhade took it that she simply didn’t know. “Just as long as she’s happy, it’s fine with me.”

----

A long time passed. It wasn’t necessarily a period over two hours, but it still felt like an eternity. Rhade helped Angel clean up the bar. Actually, Rhade did it by himself. By an act of will, all the seats floated on top of the tables, all the rubbish collected into a pile and floated into a trash bin, and all the dirt and mud trailed in shot out through the front door. He did in under a minute what would’ve taken Angel hours. But he later regretted doing that; cleaning the bar by hand would’ve killed a lot more time. Rhade even considered taking a nap, which he did do eventually, only for a much-extended period of time than he had originally intended to rest for.

Meantime, Tifa and Vincent were heading for Kalm. Cloud had let them borrow his buggy, as walking all the way back or asking Reeve to borrow a helicopter would seem a bit much. It was a silent ride. Vincent had nothing he waned to say, and Tifa was not sure what she should say at all. She had felt a lot better after confessing to Angel, but other things still bothered her. The two thieves looming over her. Rhade’s striking familiarity to someone she couldn’t place, even beyond his frequent visits to whatever bar she manned. Those damned green Mako eyes that would glare at her every so often when she was dreaming. Details, details, details... Her thoughts occupied most of her time.

Vincent was not silent because he didn’t have anything to say. Actually, he did have something. If he wanted to, he could warn Tifa about how much of a potential threat Rhade could be. However, if he did that, he would only expose his suspicions and his true intent, which was something he didn’t want to do. If he did warn Tifa, he risked being scolded for his paranoia, then getting sent back to return Cloud’s buggy. No, he would have to make this look casual, like they had done when they were tracking down Sephiroth. Except that it would be just him watching over Tifa, and possibly Angel, to make sure Rhade didn’t do anything he wasn’t supposed to. Rhade was suspect, for now.

Kalm wasn’t too far off.

----

The Blacksmith slowly trod back to his house. It had been a very bad day. As a blacksmith, he had many talents, but unfortunately, mining wasn’t one of them. To add to the total badness of his day, those who did excel at mining had either been getting lazy, or hadn’t been able to mine because of those idiot monsters inhabiting the Mythril Mines. Without mining, there were no materials. Without materials, there was nothing he could make. Without anything to make, he would get very restless. The best thing he could do was go to North Corel, or to the Gold Saucer and do something to take his mind off his boredom. The Battle Square was an excellent place to do so, but was rather expensive. Getting GP was annoying, and he wasn’t a betting man. The games weren’t his style, either. That bike game was the only one he would enjoy, as it involved swinging around a very large sword.

The Blacksmith took his eyes off the ground for a second, and saw his house come into view. He smiled slightly to himself. His house was his only true refuge from the bothers of the outside world. As he got closer...

His smile disappeared.

Someone had broken in.

And telling by the loud crashes and noises that were getting progressively louder as he approached, whoever had broken in was still there. He snarled, and made a break for his home.

He dashed inside the open door, unsheathing the knife in his vest. His eyesight quickly adjusted, and looked to the left. Nothing. He looked to the right, and there... they were. He saw that whoever was robbing his house could best be described as a ‘what,’ and whatever they were, they were crawling all over his walls. Were those...

...rats?

If they were rats, they were extremely ugly ones. Most seemed to be missing their fur, hell, they were missing their skin. Some didn’t have heads, some lacked a leg, some were even missing parts from their fat little hairless/skinless bodies. There were some who lacked two legs, but somehow managed to dash around on two unusually elongated hind legs instead. He felt his stomach churn slightly. Most of them were on the far back wall, swarming around one of his more prized masterworks.

A week or so before Meteor had been destroyed, he had ventured to do one of the more difficult jobs of his career. That was to remake the Masamune, legendary weapon of the planet’s greatest general, Sephiroth. It had taken him several days and the remaining bits of his materials, but he eventually made a perfect replica of the eight-foot one-edged blade without a single flaw. If he wanted he could probably sell it to a museum, and no one would ever know that it was a replica. It was perfectly made, from the exact length, to the metals the blade had been forged of, to the color of the hilt wraps. Hell, it practically was the Masamune. He would never sell it though; he wanted it as a family heirloom, if he ever had a family. But now there were these freakish rats crawling around it, intent on forcing it out of its holder, and taking it somewhere.

The Masamune clattered to the ground, with rats swarming on and around it.

The Blacksmith wasn’t going to let anyone take it from him.

‘Over my dead body...

He dropped his knife to the ground, reached to a nearby wall, and removed a katana and an axe from their holders. There one he rushed the rats, and began to slice and hack, dropping rats by the dozens, leaving little deformed corpses all over the place and holes in his floor. Within seventy-two seconds, not one single rat was left alive. He picked up the Masamune, looked to the floor, and grimaced.

‘What a mess. Damn, I gotta clean this up before it begins to stink... A natural wave of vertigo washed over him, but he shrugged it off. He had hunted too much to be sickened by the sight of malformed rats. He went over to his sink, washing blood and bits of matter off his weapons. They washed easily, without a hint of red on them. He looked at the axe blade, smiling at his reflection. The smile was wiped off his face as a hot pain ripped through his right calf muscle. He looked down, and was met with a sight that he probably would never see again.

‘Since when do rats get scorpion tails?!?’ An unusually large rat had whipped up its lithe tail, and sunk the large stinger on the end of it into his leg. He lashed down with the sword he had gotten off the wall, and promptly ran the thing through. A throbbing burn spread through his leg like a weed, compensating lacked speed with intensity. Instinct overcame the pain, and he removed his belt, wrapping it tightly above his right knee in order to cut off the venom flow. He kneeled down to take the pressure off his leg, and looked back to the pool of blood and rat remains.

‘What the... The rats were alive again. He had cut them to bits, but they were alive. Even the ones he had really cut up were crawling into one big pile of...

‘No %$#&in’ way!’ It was forming something. It didn’t resemble anything; it was just a mound of flesh with appendages that could remotely be considered arms. It wasn’t something tall, and it wasn’t pleasant. The mass of tattered rat muscle and fractured bone advanced toward him; it still wanted the Masamune. The Blacksmith hefted the long blade up, got on one leg, and began to hobble away. The mass wasn’t too fast, so he was able to get to the staircase, a nice distance away, and heft up the Masamune again. Before it could get any closer, he lashed forward, carrying the Masamune like a lance and intent on running whatever it was through. The nauseating *snik* sound greeted his stomach as well as his ears. The thing lurched forward. He assumed it was dead. He tried to pull the Masamune out of it. The sword wouldn’t budge. He tried again. It still wouldn’t move.

The mass of rat corpses lurched again, getting an even tighter grip on the blade. The Blacksmith wrapped his arm around the hilt. The two of them played tug-of-war for a few seconds, until the mass became annoyed, and lifted the blade high up, bringing the Blacksmith with it. It rapidly swung to the side, throwing the Blacksmith off and sending him crashing into the wall. He felt his head connect with the wall with a sickening crack.

The last thing he remembered seeing before the darkness of unconsciousness overtook him was the mound of rat meat slowly crawling out of his house, with the Masamune still embedded through its gut.

----

The hard surface of the warm bar counter against his cheek was no comfort to Rhade.

White flashes broke the inky blackness covering his drowsy mind’s eye. Those flashes were occasionally broken by images, and frightening images, at that. One of them was of Tifa falling down the staircase in the Nibelheim Mako Reactor after receiving that near-fatal blow from... that demon. Another was of Tifa and Cloud drowning in the Lifestream. And another, although wholly fabricated, yet more frightening than any other image, was one of himself, standing behind a kneeling Tifa, plunging his sword through her back. They were only images, but they were accompanied by a stream of voices, repeating their assigned lines over and over again...

he can’t remember his name he can’t remember his name he can’t remember his name

but jeremy remembers what it is jeremy remembers his name king jeremy remembers

his name his name his name his name his name his name remembers his remembers name remember his name name his remembers his remembers name name his name his remembers name his ...

The chorus of voices slowly devolved into a cacophony again, repeating the same three words continually but in no particular order. They gnawed at his brain and bit into him, trying to drive him insane as fast as they could possibly manage...

Rhade awoke with a start and a yelp as a hand clapped down on his shoulder. He snapped around, nearly knocking the unfinished drink, which he had ordered before he fell asleep, to the floor, to see who...

Vincent had quickly recoiled his fingerless-gloved hand. “...Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“...’s okay...” For a second, Vincent was the only one Rhade could see. Then he became aware of the rest of reality around him. Out of the corner of his right eye, he saw Tifa, who had been sitting at a stool next to him and quietly chatting with Angel. Both of them had diverted their attention to him after he had woken.

They all sat or stood in silence for a few moments, until Tifa arched an eyebrow, and smiled amusedly sideways. “A little jumpy, Rhade?”

The deluge of fear and self-doubt that had come up with the nightmare was drowned and pushed back to the furthest reaches of Rhade’s mind as a warm feeling enveloped him. Happiness? Glee, maybe? He stared directly into her ruby eyes. “Yeah. Just a little.” He smiled a little.

“You must’ve hated hearing things at night when you were little,” Tifa added.

His heart fell a little. “If you only knew.” He kept smiling.

Tifa and Angel looked to Vincent, who was still standing behind Rhade. “Don’t just stand there, sit down.” Tifa patted the seat to her right.

Vincent shrugged, and obliged. As he sat, he raised his clawed hand slightly. “Water with ice, please.” Angel, eternally smiling, nodded, quickly set about to fulfill his request, and fetched a glass.

“Make that two,” Tifa quipped. “Cloud really oughta put a cooler in the buggy.” Angel paused for a second, grabbed another glass, then continued on her merry way. “So, how did things go? Any fights?”

Angel plopped ice into one of the two glasses she had gotten out. “Only one, but some people stopped it before anyone really was hurt. It left a big mess though.” She poured bottled water into the glasses.

“How big?” Tifa shifted, adjusting her arms to lean more comfortably against the counter.

“Pretty big.” Angel placed the two glasses of water in front of their respective takers. “But Rhade helped me clean it up.”

“He did?” Tifa glanced at him through the corner of her eye.

“Yep.” Angel plopped down on the stool hidden underneath the counter. “He was waiting for you.”

“Oh, really?” She turned to Rhade, looking at him lazily with a smile that slowly extended into a grin. “How sweet of him...” Rhade couldn’t help but turn crimson with joy and try to disappear into his seat.

She wagged a pointing finger at his face. “You know, Reeve thought there was something special about you.”

Rhade stopped trying to wriggle into the stool cushion. “He did?”

“Mm-hm.” Tifa turned back to the counter, still looking at Rhade. Vincent sipped at his water, with eyebrows raised and a tinge of slight bemusement crossing his blank features.

Angel suppressed a giggle, but couldn’t help to let a little leak into her next question. “Do you want anything to drink, Rhade?”

“Nah.” He waved her off, still gazing at Tifa’s sideways glance.

Tifa took a long sip of her drink. “...If I didn’t know better, I’d say you had a crush on me...”

“Aah...” Rhade tugged at his shirt collar, the crimson warmth refusing to leave his cheeks.

She took another sip, still smiling. “Was that the real reason you came to Seventh Heaven instead of going back to your... crappy little apartment every night?” She added a little emphasis to his own words.

Rhade was really squirming now. “I, um...” A singular voice muttered random profanities in the back of his mind.

“And what were you doing with Angel while you were waiting? You couldn’t have just been cleaning... Were you asking her... about me?” Tifa turned to Rhade again, smiling slyly. Angel held her hands over her mouth, trying not to laugh.

Vincent took another sip, then muttered, “Busted...” Though he was wary of Rhade, why have Tifa make Rhade squirm all by herself?

Tifa mock-aghastly turned to him. “Vincent!”

Vincent’s face remained dour as always, and turned his head slightly to Tifa. “Can’t let you have all the... fun.”

“Fun?” Tifa overwhelmed her urge to laugh, but not easily. This was getting very amusing.

He turned to face Tifa fully before saying, “No doubt you’re surprised.” Angel was still trying to prevent herself form bursting out into laughter.

‘How long was he in that coffin again?’ Tifa nodded. “Very.” Rhade was glad that the spotlight had been taken off of him for the moment, though he couldn’t help but revel in the fact that Tifa had smiled at him. Not just as a customer, but as someone more, even if only slightly more. That alone was enough to make his day.

The antics would continue almost into the wee hours of the morning, even after the chocobo outside stopped watching and decided to go to sleep.

----

Rude sat behind his well-crafted, flawless, glass-topped oak desk, in his over-priced, not-too-comfortable office chair. Unlike Reno, he did not hate his desk with a passion, and did not hide books in it, and did not put his feet on it, but the glass did have many dents in it, from where he tapped a pen whenever he got truly bored. It was very easy to get bored there, hence why there were many dents. But he wasn’t bored now, just silently mystified. He adjusted his sunglasses, exchanging glances between the Shinra MP standing in front of his well-crafted, flawless, glass-topped oak desk, and the report he held in his hand. The MP had come delivering the report. Odd enough. Secretaries usually delivered reports. That meant it had to be high-priority. But this particular report... The report in itself was... odd.

“Is this right?” he asked, reluctantly and very slowly.

“Yessir, Mister Rude sir!” the MP barked, not willing or able to escape protocol without the order.

Rude arched an eyebrow. “...At ease.” The MP shifted his weight, losing the rigidity of his posture. Here Rude was, staying overtime in his immaculate office, missing happy hour with Reno and Elena, and carefully going over the report that had been handed to him. It had been made in quadruplicate, one going to Reno, one going to Rude, one going to Elena, and the last one going to President Reeve. It had just gotten to Rude later than it should have.

The report was, well... odd. That seemed to be the only word that could describe it, other than strange, unusual, non-typical... But he always preferred sticking to short sentences with short words anyways, even in his thoughts.

The report stated that someone had broken into the SOLDIER dorm area, and stolen the centerpiece of the main hall; a decorative glass case containing the outfit of the great General Sephiroth; trenchcoat, pants, knee-high boots, and SOLDIER cross-belt. And whoever it was that stole it, he or she had left behind a trail of skinned and dismembered...

“...Rats?” Rude adjusted his sunglasses again. They kept slipping off his nose. “Are they serious?”

“Yes, sir. All of the rats were mutilated. Whoever this thief was had to be a very strange man or woman.”

Rude shook his head, with a blank expression on his face. “...This isn’t that important.”

“...But it was the Great Sephiroth’s remaining gear. Not many sets exist, especially sets with the cross-belt, which was made especially for him.” The MP had obviously been a Sephiroth fan to know that. He also obviously didn’t know of the horrible massacres that Sephiroth had brought upon Midgar’s Shinra Building, the Shinra cargo ship, and Nibelheim in his Jenova-induced madness. Rude didn’t know many of the details either, but he had been able to make the connections with the words ‘Sephiroth,’ ‘torched,’ ‘Nibelheim,’ ‘massacre,’ ‘Costa del Sol-bound ship,’ ‘executed,’ and ‘Shinra.’

“...” Rude paused, thinking of what to say. “It’s still not important to me.” He stood up, adjusted his tie, and made for the door. He had a bar to get to, which was something more important than a stolen set of leather clothes, no matter who they belonged to. The MP, however, still continued to stand on his spot.

Rude stopped himself, realizing that the MP had not moved. “...You’re dismissed.” The MP gave a quick ‘Sir, yes sir,’ saluted, and left. Rude paused again, the thought of how all Shinra MP’s were stereotypically clueless escaping his mind for the moment. He flicked off the light switch, and left his office. He would be late, but it was a little excusable. He could just blame it on the MP. Rude pushed his chair in, and the intercom on his phone crackled to life. He quickly snapped to attention. “Rude, Elena, report to my office, now. We’ve got a few matters to discuss...

President Reeve was back. Damn. And he wanted to talk about something too. Looked like he would have to miss going to see Reno and Elena tonight. Or at least miss Reno. Rude frowned, and shook his head, continuing to leave his office. Something just had to come up now. He didn’t forget to lock the door on his way out.

----

The sky was blue.

It was blue, with absolutely no trace of white or gray, no threat of rain, no distant rumbling of thunder. Birds flew overhead, bound for some unknown destination in some direction you wouldn’t be able to point out without a compass. The ground was an unbroken field of pale green, the perfect contrast to the spotless bright blue sky. A few trees did dot the grassland, but they too were green. Not pale green, really, but rather a pleasant shade of emerald green that barely stood out from a distance, but starkly contrasted from its surrounding once up close.

Yuffie loved these kinds of days.

They allowed her to get out of her stuffy little house, which was usually sweltering in these seasons. She did love her place, but she didn’t like the idea of suffocating or dying of heatstroke. Whoever came up with the insulation material for the houses in Wutai needed to be shot, if he or she wasn’t dead already. ‘Cold-blooded houses,’ someone had once called them. Hot in the summer, cold in the winter, frustrating as hell all the time. There weren’t really any perfect times either. Being as far north as geography would allow without going to the Icicle Area, it was either hot or cold, that was it. A perfect day would come just out of the blue sometimes. This day was close, but not close enough. It was a day for walking, not prancing like she did when she found a shiny new piece of materia, not celebrating like she did when she found a shiny new rare and valuable piece of materia, just walking. In the heat, it also provided as a nice form of exercise. Not as nice as fighting monsters and such, but who was she to complain about a peaceful day? She did have the Conformer strapped to her back, but that was only for self-protection. She wasn’t about to pick any fights with anyone or anything. Besides, Yuffie didn’t have her arm guard with her; she just had on her favorite sleeveless green turtleneck and khaki cargo shorts with a working fly. She had hated that. The entire Meteor journey she had gone with a busted zipper due to jumping out of a tree wrong, and she hadn’t even been able to change once she got back to Wutai because everyone was in such a rush. But now her short’s zipper worked. Along with that, she had generally been having a good time lately, all with the little reunion at Tifa’s new bar, and barely avoiding being robbed herself. No monster was going to ruin it for her. It would just be her, the rustle of the grass in the breeze, the...

...screams of absolute terror?

Yuffie tucked her hands into her pockets, and looked around a little. Maybe she had been hearing things. She bit her lip. Please let me be hearing things! I’ve been good! I wanna have a nice day today...She heard the scream again, this time louder and more piercing than the last one, confirming that she hadn’t been hearing things.

She got the Conformer off her back, and began to sprint towards the general direction. ‘Crapola...It was probably some damsel in distress, telling by the high-pitch of it. The scream cut through the air this time. ‘Where? To my left...She turned left slightly. The scream pierced her mind, hurting her ears. ‘Set o’ lungs...

“I’m coming!” Her call went out to no one in general, but whoever the victim was screamed again. Yuffie kept running, and finally saw the source of distress. There were some things that she could best describe as ‘something that a cat puked up, but bigger.’ They moved over someone rapidly, trying to smother or just generally hurt the victim. She saw flashes of pink fabric in between spaces of the two creatures. A damsel in distress all right...

Within no time she had come upon them, and started hacking away, commencing the Bloodfest. Whatever she was hacking at, it looked like it had been built of many, many parts of some small creatures, and it reeked to high heaven. At one point one of them wrapped around her ankle with something that barely fit the description of an appendage.

‘Yeck! Get off!’ With one clean swipe, she got her wish. After some twenty seconds or so, the two ugly creatures had begun to run off. She considered lobbing the Conformer at the retreating figures for good measure, but went against it. She stood there for a few more seconds, totally oblivious to the life she had just saved. Then she heard a small whimper. Yuffie whipped around, with the Conformer raised and ready to kill anything that did so much as flinch.

Yuffie stopped in her tracks and relaxed in her posture.

‘No way.

Yuffie dropped the Conformer.

‘No way.

Tears began to trickle down her face, despite her being shocked into total lack of emotion.

‘Aeris?’

“Is that... you?”

The sickly pale, pink-clad form looked up at her, battered, bruised, bleeding, and crying. She nodded slowly, the only usual garb she had on being her dress, boots, and hair tie. Neither of them said a thing. Actions always spoke louder than words. Yuffie charged her, dropped to her knees, and embraced her.

“Ohgod-ohgod-ohgod...” Yuffie quietly muttered, trying not to cry. But she couldn’t help herself. She broke down into a stunned gibbering mass of confusion and ecstasy. Aeris hugged back equally hard, just as ecstatic that not everyone who found her was trying to kill her. There they sat, not a word between them, for an eternity for the one who can feel pain of others and to the one who has killed emotion. All was silent, except for the sounds of two sobbing girls.

The possibilities flowed through Yuffie’s head. So many questions to ask; How are you alive, why are you here, why are you in Wutai and not the bottom of some lake in a forgotten city, how’ll everyone else feel, what should she do...

...Is this real?’

“...Aer... Aeris?”

“...Yes...?” She sniffled.

“I’m gonna... bring you home...”

On the day with blue skies and green fields, all is quiet, except for the call of birds and the sounds of crying...

----

Cid Highwind contently stood on the deck of the Highwind, the only airship in the world, his airship, staring out into the horizon. The view was beautiful, and the sun was just beginning to fall. The damn airship was a pain to rebuild, but it was well worth it. In a few days, he’d be soaring through the skies again, intimidating birds and touching the clouds. Actually, he could fly now if he saw fit, but he’d rather have all repairs completed before he started flying. Cid didn’t want his airship suddenly falling apart in mid-flight. That would be a nightmare.

He jumped slightly as a rhythmic beeping shattered the blissful silence. Cigarette ash that had been left to collect for too long dropped on his shoe. ‘Damn phone...He checked his jacket pockets, not there. He checked his pants pockets, not there either. He checked the railing that had been recently repaired, there it was. He hastily picked the PHS up, and put it to his ear.

“Cid Highwind, what do ya want?” He brusquely introduced himself. ‘Better not be Reeve again.

“Yes, Mr. Highwind...” The voice on the other end sounded rather familiar. “This is Godo Kisaragi, Yuffie’s father.”

Lights went off in Cid’s head. He sat down, with his back on the railing. “Long time, no see, old man. You not dead yet?”

“No...” Godo paused, searching for the words that would fit this situation without getting Cid angry.

“Can’t really tell, Yuffie kicked your ass pretty good last time I saw you.” Cid snickered. “Figured you might’ve bit it from internal bleeding. Speaking of whom, ‘s Yuffie alright? Not in need of bail...?”

“No, she’s fine.” Godo cut him off before he could come up with another smart-aleck remark. “About Yuffie, she was walking about yesterday, and she found someone.” He heard Cid groan on the other side of the line. “Now the lady’s not necessarily hurt, but there are no appropriate hospitals here, and we’d like to check if she’s alright...”

“Now wait just a damn minute.” Cid cut him off with equal quickness, not expecting someone to give him a house-call like he was a taxi or something. “You want me to fly over to Wutai, pick this kid up, and bring her to a f&*#in’ hospital? The Highwind can barely fly, so I’ll be damned if I can put her up to a rescue mission...”

“Wait, it’s slightly more complicated than that...”

“And how f&*%in’ complicated can it get?”

“Well... It appears very much so...” In Wutai, Godo couldn’t help but grimace. Actually, grimace harder, since he had been grimacing ever since Yuffie had brought that flower girl in. Dead one five-month period, alive the next. It didn’t seem plausible. He had been feeling grim all day, so maybe he should’ve been expecting something like this. Okay, so maybe not something like this. Yuffie pulled pranks on occasion, but nothing like this. She wasn’t that horrible. He shouldn’t try to dwell on it; the whole thing made him feel dreadful. Highwind didn’t seem to be too cooperative, either. But, Godo only needed to say three words that would probably turn the pilot right around... If he believed them, which would probably take a few repetitions to sink in, but it ought to make Highwind a lot more cooperative than he currently was.

----

Shera was alone, standing in the command deck of the Highwind, staring out of the sole window. ‘What a beautiful view. I wish every day could be like this. It makes working so much easier.She was perfectly content helping Cid and the many repairmen Reeve had assigned to them work on the Highwind. To her, it was almost an honor to work with Cid, despite the fact that she had nearly lived with him for a few years, and he had abused and tortured her verbally almost every minute. It was best to just not think about it...

Her thoughts were interrupted as Cid burst into the command deck. Shera turned to face him; he looked as if he had seen a ghost. “Something wrong, Captain?”

“Get all the repairmen out. We’re going to Wutai.” He made his way to the command console with unusual swiftness.

“Repairs aren’t finished yet, Captain. Flying’s unadvis-”

“We’re flying!!!” He cut her off rather abruptly, and with a lack of profanity that made her ponder. But orders were orders. Shera left the command deck to tell the repairmen to stop working as the engines of the Highwind slowly roared to life...

----

Kalm. The name said it all. Peaceful, tranquil, serene... calm. Just the way Barret liked it.

Ever since he and the rest had dared to climb the infamous Gaea’s Cliff, he had been in sheer awe of nature. First, the blizzards, windstorms, currents of air, and the incredible intensity of the whole lot. Now, he sat in the shade of a deck umbrella, able to take it all in. He hadn’t really been able to pay attention to all the beauty around him while on their journey to the Crater, but now that he could sit back and smell the roses...

He smelled the dusty scent of a sandbox. He heard the flow of water not too far away. He tasted the fresh air on his tongue. He felt the cool of the shade on his skin. But what he saw could not hold a candle to any of it. He saw Marlene playing with a few friends she had made over the past months. Friends. Ha. That was something he’d never expect to see in Midgar. He hadn’t seen too many in Sector 7. He guessed that was partially his fault. Parents would naturally want to keep their kids away from a big, dirty-mouthed man with a gatling gun instead of a right hand.

Marlene’s friends. That was one of the reasons he refused to leave Kalm now. Corel did need his help, though anybody’s would do, but he didn’t want to tear Marlene away from her friends. He wouldn’t do a thing to hurt his daughter.

There was another reason he didn’t go to Corel now, and that, from his standpoint was easy to identify. Though he had helped save the town from the train, he had still been one of the original reasons the town had met its actual destruction. So people hated him. Not just the adults, though. They had even taught their kids to hate him the last time he had been there. So what if he helped save the town? It was still a garbage dump because of him. So they hated him. And if they taught their kids to hate him, wouldn’t they hate Marlene by association? It might’ve been a longshot, but he cared not to take his chances and pack their bags. It wouldn’t be fair to Marlene.

The PHS rang from inside his home. His thoughts were interrupted.

Marlene stood up, ready to run into the house and get it, but Barret raised a hand, motioning for her to stop, and got up to get it himself. ‘Why the hell didn’t I bought another one of the wireless ones?’ He dashed inside the house, into the kitchen, nearly breaking the door off of its hinges. Second ring. He looked around, temporarily forgetting where the PHS was placed. The little black box sitting on the kitchen counter rang again, snapping him to attention. He ran for it, making sure not to reach for it with his right arm, yanked the PHS off its receiver, and put it to his ear.

“Hullo?”

“Barret?”

“Yuff’? That you? How you-”

“Barret, no time! Get to Tifa’s place now! And bring Elmyra! This is important!

“Wha? Waitaminut!”

Click.

----

The likes of five waited outside of Tifa’s Sanctuary At The Edge of the World. Leaning on the wall next to the front door was Vincent, arms crossed and completely still. Sitting on a barrel next to him was Angel, swinging her legs limply in the air and wondering what was going on. Standing over her was the chocobo, warking softly and occasionally moving in to nuzzle Angel’s neck or preen her hair. Leaning on the wall on the other side of the door was Rhade, also with his arms crossed but tapping his right foot on the ground out of surplus of energy. Pacing in front of Sanctuary was Tifa, occasionally stopping to look around, wondering when Yuffie was going to come with her ‘important announcement.’

They waited.

And waited some more.

Rhade glanced sideways, and noticed that he had unintentionally assumed the same stance as Vincent. He quickly shifted, standing up and off the wall, but continued to tap his foot on the ground. Angel idly began to wrap a lock of hair around her left finger. Vincent flicked some hair out of his eyes with the hand wrapped in the Shinra Inc. Turk-Issue Fingerless Glove. The chocobo occasionally bobbed his head and looked out to the horizon.

Waiting got boring real quick.

Tifa looked around again, and spotted two forms approaching. She quickly recognized them as Elmyra and Barret, with Marlene piggybacking. Tifa gave a big wave, and yelled out a greeting. Barret stopped for a moment, looked over his shoulder to ask Marlene something, then broke out into a dash. Elmyra tried to keep up. They were soon standing with the other four in front of Sanctuary.

“How’s ev’rybody doin’?” Barret stooped down to let Marlene off.

“Okay.” Angel stopped tugging at the lock of hair and gave a small smile.

“Fine.” Tifa weaved her fingers behind her back.

Rhade lifted his hand and shook it a little, indicating ‘so-so,’ but quickly stopped himself. So-so? Tifa had started talking to him again. She had even joked with him a little. “Better than I’ve felt in my life.” She deserved nothing less.

Vincent remained mute, but warily watched Rhade through the corner of his eye.

Barret snorted quietly to himself as Elmyra finally caught up, glancing at Angel. “Who’s the customer wit’ the bird?”

Tifa looked back to Sanctuary before realizing what he meant. She approached Angel and put a hand on her left shoulder. “This... is Angel. She’ll be staying with me for a while.”

Angel beamed at the newcomers and waved. “Hi.” The chocobo ruffled his feathers, flapped his wings, and warked a loud greeting.

Marlene looked at Angel strangely, and approached. She stared up at Angel for a second, then reached up and lightly grasped a lock of hair. “Your hair’s weird.”

Angel’s smile softened. “I got it from my mom.” Barret flinched. Marlene opened her mouth, as if saying ‘Ohhhh,’ coming to realization.

After a few more minutes of conversation in which Rhade was introduced to Elmyra and Marlene, and Vincent remained silent and motionless, total silence ensued. Barret bemusedly wondered to himself if whatever Vincent had was contagious. Rhade continued to tap his foot. Time passed. Angel quietly played patty-cake with Marlene. More time passed. Tifa checked her wrist, forgetting that she wasn’t wearing a watch, then looked up to the sky in frustration. Her glance was met by something airborne and a rhythmic *thup-thup* sound. She continued to stare, trying to figure out what that was, realized, pointed, and yelled. Everyone looked up.

“Who do you know that owns a helicopter?!” Rhade shouted, overcoming the steadily increasing volume of the vehicle.

“It’s Reeve!” Tifa momentarily looked over her shoulder to Rhade, then back to the helicopter. Elmyra shielded her eyes from the dust the helicopter was kicking up. The chocobo showed no fear in the face of a loud, flying metal contraption. Before the helicopter could come to a complete landing, the hatch opened. A pair of legs clad in purple pantaloons dangled out for a second before Cloud jumped out, easily landing on his feet. Rhade didn’t point out that that wasn’t Reeve. Everyone else waited where they were, waiting for the sound of the engine to die out.

“Cloud?!” Tifa shielded her eyes from dust as Cloud jogged over. The helicopter landed gently, staying still long enough for Reeve to hop out and for Red to leap out. The helicopter blades began to slow, and Reeve shook his left leg around a little, hoping he hadn’t twisted his ankle. He and Red sauntered over to where Cloud and Tifa were yelling above the noise.

“Yuffie called you?”

“No, Reeve flew over!” Cloud shifted, feeling slightly uncomfortable without the weight of the Buster Sword on his back.

The both of them looked to Reeve. He shrugged, and adjusted his gloves. “She said it was important!” He forgot that he had been called earlier by a Mr. Holzoff about the whereabouts of the Black Materia. The helicopter engine died down.

Welcomes were exchanged. Hands were shaken. Small conversations were had. Time was killed. All in all, boredom ensued.

Cloud looked at his watch, and began to wonder aloud. “Where is she? She should be here by now if it’s so important... And where’s Cid?”

That question was answered when Barret pointed to the sky after a few minutes. “There’s Cid!” Indeed, there he was. Or at least there was something that he was most likely traveling in. The Highwind.

It came with a relatively slow approach, as to avoid having the hull fly apart, and landed slowly. A rope ladder fell down the side, and three figures could be discerned climbing down. The first to the ground was Cid; he held the rope ladder steady with one foot, then helped down the second figure, who was wrapped in what looked like a lab coat with a hood. It wasn’t Shera, because her hair wasn’t as long as this woman’s, which was spilling out of the jacket’s hood. The last to the ground was Yuffie, lacking her customary arm guard, but still with her knee brace on. Both she and Cid helped the woman keep her balance as they dashed over to Sanctuary. Everyone else slowly thought of what to make of this, stood up or brushed off, and went to meet them halfway.

Rhade lagged behind slightly, taking a slower and more cautious pace. ‘Wonder who that is...?’ In the background, he could hear a single voice muttering over and over to itself, seeming rather incredulous for whatever reason. The other voices were dead quiet. ‘Hah. Must be sleeping.

They don’t sleep, and you know it.

‘Then why’d they shut up?’

...‘Cause they know who that is. He paused. And I think they know too.

‘Who?’

Them.

Rhade stopped in his tracks, and noticed that he had somehow made his way to the front of the group. He looked over his shoulders, and saw everyone else about a foot or so behind him, except for Elmyra, who was lagging, Angel, who was wondering why everyone was acting strangely, and the chocobo, who merely cocked his head and warked a few times. But the others weren’t just standing there. They were petrified by something. Barret’s mouth hung open a little, Cloud’s eyes were moist, Red’s tail hadn’t moved an inch, and everyone’s eyes were widened. Cid and Yuffie, still aiding the coated woman, had slowed their pace, thinking they ought to let things sink in. Their faces showed that they were expecting something. Everything seemed to be slowing down.

‘Then who is it?’

You’re omnipotent, you lazy bastard. See for yourself.

Rhade did the mental equivalent of raising an eyebrow, then began to think to himself. In a few seconds, a single image flashed before his eyes. The image was of a familiar face that he had not gotten to know well, but knew nonetheless. A chill went down his spine.

‘No way.

Don’t do that...

‘Do what?’

You just dropped the local temperature by 20 degrees. Rhade glanced around again. Sure enough, he could see everyone’s breath, slow and unsteady. Tifa shivered.

Everyone slowly began to move in, crowding behind Rhade, like he was their defense against whatever was awaiting them. Cid and Yuffie stopped, bringing the limping woman in front of him.

...You know how they say that some things are too good to be true?

After pondering for a few seconds, Rhade reached for the woman’s hood, and threw it back. He let out a long, shaky breath as the reality of the discovery hit him like it had almost everyone else.

Marlene finally pushed her way through the sea of fully-grown legs blocking her path, and looked up. Her confused glance turned to an open-mouthed beam of surprise and joy.

Well, you know...

“Flower lady!”

Satisfaction spread on Cid’s face as Marlene jumped up to hug Aeris. He quickly caught her before she could accidentally knock Aeris down. Marlene threw her arms around Aeris’ neck. Marlene smiled. Aeris smiled. They were happy. The flower lady was back.

Elmyra caught up, wheezing slightly. Old age was really starting to get to her. Who was that third person Cid and Yuffie were helping? The person with Marlene clutching her neck, the person...

At that moment, her brain overloaded. No pain. No thought. No words. She ran forward, and clutched her daughter, blubbering madly. Sadness, joy, ecstasy, which could describe it? It did not matter. Her daughter was back.

You know this can’t be real. At least it shouldn’t be...

Cloud was stunned. That was it. Stunned. Shocked. Confused. Enthralled? Ecstatic? Exposed to a world that had kicked him down so many times and made his very world crumble around him? Happy beyond the point the nightmares couldn’t touch him anymore? Yes, yes, yes, yes. If he could describe it all with a single word, he would say he was that, and more. But it didn’t matter. He came forward haltingly, and threw his arms around her without hesitation. She was back.

Tifa’s mind whirled around. A shortened version of the events of her past week shot through her head. Cloud, Reeve, Cid, surprise, party, thugs, Rhade, Aeris. Cloud, Reeve, Cid, surprise, party, thugs, Rhade, Aeris. Thugs, Cloud, surprise, Rhade, party, thugs, Aeris. Rhade, Cloud, party, surprise, thugs, Cloud, Aeris.

Surprise.

You know the Planet doesn’t do favors, and you know that from personal experience.

No words. Her eyes burned, her tears fell, her voice cracked, her arms wrapped around someone she hadn’t felt for a long time. Didn’t matter. Her friend was back.

Reeve nearly keeled over, and stopped himself from retching. This was too much. Just five months ago he had nearly torn his hair out, destroyed his home, and locked himself in a dark closet because this woman had died, and he hadn’t done a damn thing about it. He should’ve sent Cait Sith II up there to take the strike. It wouldn’t have taken much effort. If he had only done it, if he had only made the sacrifice...

He looked up again. He looked into those eyes, those teary, happy eyes nearly hidden by four other bodies, and it all melted away. Didn’t matter. His... mistake was back.

The only reason you got your powers was because you found the Well, and that doesn’t even belong here.

Barret froze. It couldn’t be right. He had seen her die. Or had he? Maybe it was something that he made up. Some sick idea that just popped into his head. Yeah. A lie. Worse than the one about Marlene and her mother being ‘away’. But it was too real to be fake. Had she died? Yes. No. Maybe. But if she did die, and if she did fall into that pool of water, then how could she be standing there...

Fantasy, reality, everything began to blur. Right. She cared for Marlene when he was at the pillar. She sacrificed herself for his sake, then for everyone’s else’s. But then how could she be there if she had... It hurt to think about it. Actions. He embraced what Marlene embraced. Didn’t matter. She was back.

Red caught the dog-like whimpers coming up in his throat. He had studied Planet life for too long to have all of his ideals thrown away at a drop of a hat, or an appearance of someone he knew had returned to the Planet. Had she broken away? Did the Planet let her come back? Did the Planet have a will? Could the Planet bring his father and mother back? Was he Nanaki or Red XIII?

You know perfectly well it doesn’t care. There’s something...

Too many questions all at once assaulting his insignificant mind in his insignificant body with this insignificant group of people on this significant Planet.... It did not matter. She was back.

Vincent ran his hand through his hair. Was this right? It couldn’t be. Too much. The Planet had never spared anybody. It just sent life energy to new bodies or trees or animals... Only Sephiroth had violated that rule. But Aeris? Should he have faith in a world that had kicked him down so many times and made his very world crumble around him? Should he let himself be happy beyond the point the nightmares couldn’t touch him anymore? Maybe. He’d consider it.

...There’s something wrong with this.

Cid and Yuffie stood side-by-side, admiring the beautiful scene. This had been something that no one had ever expected. Everyone looked the happiest they had ever been in their lives, and it was because of them. Yuffie found Aeris, and Cid had brought her to everyone else. So they did it. Yuffie couldn’t contain herself anymore. She came forward, and embraced the group too. Cid smiled to himself, knowing that he’d have the Venus Gospel slung over his shoulder if he had it with him. But he didn’t. And it didn’t make a difference. He didn’t have a cigarette in his mouth, and he wasn’t taking a drag. That didn’t make a difference either. This was the ultimate high.

There’s something... Hey, are you listening to me?! This isn’t right! Are you listening...?

And there, with every event flowing around him like a sea, was Rhade. He had begun to tremble uncontrollably. The voices in his head were screaming, what was going on, why was she alive, how had she come back, was it his fault, barraging him with a flow of questions that he was beginning to lose the meaning of as disorder slowly took control. And, in the back of it all, a single voice of reason tried to scream louder than anyone else, screaming for Rhade to listen...

Cid noticed that he wasn’t the only one who wasn’t clutching Aeris in joy. Vincent stood off from the group, but that he expected. Red couldn’t clutch, so he just tried to get as close to Aeris as he could. Rhade stood away too, with a look of distraught confusion on his face. But his eyes remained locked on the scene he beheld. That new girl with the strange hair hadn’t joined in with the mass embrace either. Cid didn’t recognize her. She looked confused, and her eyes shifted around every now and than. She must’ve been wondering what was going on.

Angel stood, watching everything with a puzzled expression. What was going on? The title ‘flower lady’ was familiar... She looked to Vincent. He stared at what was happening. She looked to Rhade. He was doing the same thing. She looked to Cid. He matched her look, then began to saunter over, with a big grin on his face. Angel kept her eyes on him as he turned on his heel to face the group again, pointed to Aeris, and leaned to the side, trying to shorten the distance for sound to travel from his mouth to her ears.

“You know who that is?” He stopped himself from laughing, and crossed his arms.

Angel hesitated, then shook her head. “...No.”

He pointed again. “That’s Aeris.” Angel’s eyes widened, but she continued staring straight ahead. “She saved all our asses a while ago. And now she’s back.” Angel clasped her hands over her mouth and gasped.

Cid couldn’t help himself anymore. He had too much energy. He sauntered away from Angel, dropped to his knees, raised his fists to the heavens, looked to the clouds, and, at the top of his lungs, screamed “F$#& YEAH!!!” Then he broke into a fit of hysterical laughter.

‘Aeris?’ Angel’s heart was fluttering. Even though revival after death was something she had been part of once, when a loved one had died, it still amazed her. ‘But Rhade...Facts began to turn over in her head. She slowly approached Rhade.

“Is... Is that really her?”

Rhade haltingly nodded, his gaze still fixed.

“Did you do this?”

Rhade stopped trembling. He stared of into space for a second. Had he done it? “Uh-uh.”

“No?”

Rhade shook his head.

“Then who...” Angel trailed off. This was a happy moment. She needn’t smash it to pieces with a question like that to learn the answer to why or who. Sometimes it was just best not to ask, for the sake of others. They were so happy. That contented her.

Vincent, somehow overhearing the comments, looked to Rhade and Angel, and furrowed his brow. ‘Did he do this? What could that mean...?’

The chocobo stood defiantly behind Angel, looking over her shoulder, and glaring at Aeris. If one listened closely, one could hear his cautioning hiss...

And in the back of Rhade’s head, nearly drowned out by the shrieks of hundreds of confused voices, the one singular voice that actually had something to say kept screaming...

----

“F%$# ‘em, f&%@ all of ‘em...” Payne muttered through clenched teeth, smoking a cigarette and loading his rifle. He and his Turk comrades were wandering through the Icicle Area, industriously searching for Mr. Holzoff’s place. As their map was outdated, they weren’t having very much luck.

“Orders are orders...” Fields tried to begin, but was immediately cut off.

“Orders? We’re not following orders! We’re getting punished!” His cigarette snuffed out in the strong wind, and he tried to light it again, holstering his rifle and protecting it with his free hand. “Don’t you get it? Reno thought ‘why fire ‘em when I can make ‘em suffer?’ And he did just that by sending us to this frozen hellhole!”

“Sh-sh-sh.... Shut up...” Dulacross was shivering violently, despite the several layers of clothing she wore. Grody wordlessly took off his jacket, and draped it around her shoulders. Her head snapped around to see who dared to get so close, and she immediately recoiled upon seeing it was Grody.

Payne stared at her blankly for a second. “Nuh-uh. I ain’t arguing with someone as freezing cold as you.” He turned to follow Fields, who was walking in the direction that the map indicated they were supposed to go.

“Th-th... thanks...”

His eyes narrowed, and one of the corners of his mouth upturned. “It’d be too easy.” He began to stalk after Fields again.

Dulacross, instead of answering, quickly began to trot after him, then grabbed his sleeve and blew her nose on it.

“You bit-!...” He quickly stopped himself. If he dared, Grody would probably drill him into the ground. He always protected women, especially after a certain time of drunken stupor not too long ago, and what he did to a very pretty and very innocent college student not too long after. Dulacross sniffed loudly, threw her head back, and followed after Fields. She in turned was followed by Grody and Tucker, Grody momentarily stopping to give him a silent glare, Tucker not stopping but merely flipping him off as she walked by. Payne looked to his sleeve, then to the retreating forms, then shook off his sleeve a little. ‘Abso-f%$#in’-lutey disgusting... I think I earned that, though. He began to follow after the other four Turks, who were nearly cloaked by the white blur of the blizzard all around him.

He didn’t care for the landmarks littering the place. He didn’t try catching up with his coworkers. Why the hell did anybody need to send five Turks to get information on the Black Materia? Reno had even made sure all of them had been given their favorite weapons for the mission, too. There was no justice in some things... Payne had made sure he took a rifle with him, though. He didn’t trust wastelands, whether they be desert or tundra. Anything could pop up in the middle of nowhere....

He couldn’t help but chuckle at how Dulacross had recoiled from Grody when he gave her his jacket. ‘Heh. Make a few mistakes, and they always come to bite you in the ass... He trudged on for a short while more before spotting the shack that Holzoff supposedly lived in. The other Turks had probably already made it up there. It was hard to see everything from his distance away; the blizzard was obscuring everything. As he got closer, he couldn’t help but feel that something was wrong. Even though it was hidden by white, he could swear that he saw a patch of pink up there.

‘Pink minus white is red. And I know what big red patches usually are... Maybe someone came, interrogated the Holzoff guy, and then killed him brutally? If they did, I’m going to personally track them down and execute them for wasting a perfectly good day.He continued to trudge up the large foothill where Holzoff’s place was.

His gut instinct was right. There was something wrong, but he still couldn’t see everything clearly. Grody had his broadsword out, and was fighting as furiously as he could against some big guy with a katana. Payne squinted his eyes. The pool of pink was a pool of blood as he suspected, but with Dulacross in the middle. The guy with the katana had gotten the jump on her. Fields and some other guy, presumably Holzoff, were dragging her into the shack. Tucker was waiting for a clear shot with her knives, not that they would mean squat in this wind. Payne began to sprint up the foothill.

‘This is bad, this is very very bad...Payne got closer, and saw who the tall guy fighting Grody was.

‘Well, crap. A Sephiroth wannabe. He’s even got that big-ass sword and the white hair. He’s using that thing pretty well, though... He must be very cold. I’ll ventilate that trenchcoat for him, see if he likes it.Thoroughly annoyed that some jerk who had a thing for Sephiroth had probably killed one of his partners, he unholstered his rifle, aimed, and fired a solid shot into the man’s shoulder. He jerked to the side a little, a mist of blood visible from Payne’s point of view. The ‘wannabe’ turned to face Payne, leaving him open to an overhead swipe from Grody. Without even looking, and with the arm that had been shot, he brought his long sword up and nearly cut Grody’s left arm off. Grody fell to the snow with a shout, and did not move after that.

‘Oh, crap! He don’t look like he’s even angry from that!’ Payne readied again, and unloaded another shot into the man’s shoulder. He flinched. Payne shot again, this time at the stomach, a surefire way to make a person stop dead in their tracks and keel over. He only flinched, even less so than the shots to the shoulders. Payne shot him in the chest, then thigh, then right under the neck. Only flinching.

‘Ohman ohman ohman! That has to be Sephiroth! I shoulda picked something that can shoot more!’ Things were progressively getting worse. He’d shoot him in the head, but he needed to reload. Dulacross might be dead, Grody was out of action...

Sephiroth flinched, whipped around, and began to walk away from Payne. Payne saw that two knifes were neatly lodged into his back. ‘Tucker, you dishonorable b#%$&, thank you!’ Payne began to stalk after Sephiroth, holding his rifle in front of him with his right hand and reloading with the other, intent on blowing Sephiroth’s forehead out at point blank. Sephiroth was still flinching every now and then.

Tucker was already nervous, seeing someone get struck down so easily by some guy in black who she assumed was Sephiroth. Seeing the that same person take six high-caliber bullets and about four knives didn’t make it any better. She tossed another one, but the wind kicked up and the knife missed its intended mark. F#&$!’ She just needed to keep away from Sephiroth until Payne reloaded, and blew the bastard’s brains out, that was all...

Payne was only a few feet away from Sephiroth now, and he closed the distance with a few loping strides, and pointing his gun directly at the back of his opponent’s neck. His finger tightened on the trigger as he held the rifle like a pistol, his other arm at his side, fist clenched.

‘I got you now, superman...

Sephiroth whipped around, and cleanly sliced the rifle in half before Payne could get the shot off.

Payne inhaled sharply as Sephiroth reached out with his free hand, grabbed him around the throat, and lifted him a few feet in the air. He began to reach for Sephiroth’s eyes as the white-haired demon turned around and lobbed him at Tucker. If he was watching it instead of experiencing it, he might’ve said something about getting that high off the ground without the aid of wind, wings, or parachutes. Both were sent tumbling into the snow. Payne cried out as something stabbed him in the thigh.

Somehow, he had landed on a knife that Tucker had in her hand. ‘Dammit, life sucks sometimes!!!’ The two of them got to their feet as quickly as they could, and Payne yanked the knife out of his leg. That was the final spit in the face. Tucker took he remaining knives out of their slots in her jacket. She silently tugged at he lock of purple hair, signaling that someone was going to die today. Over at the shack, Fields came out the door, the front of his winter garb stained with blood, and clutching a stun baton in each hand, one streaked with blood. He held them like two swords, ready to knock any enemy out with the many, many strikes he could unload within a few seconds.

Payne took out his favorite pair of brass knuckles, and put them on over his gloves. ‘I’m not gonna take no more. You want me? You come get me. I’m a Turk.

He readied himself with the stance his father had taught him when he had to fight in the Corel desert prison, falsely accused of rigging the races and poisoning several Chocobos. “I ain’t afraid of you! Come get me!”

And so the three of them face the world’s greatest general, alone and in the snow, intent on avenging their dying comrades, and glaring at their opponent with bloody murder in their eyes.

----

Almost all was joy at Sanctuary. Aeris, the savoir of the Planet, the caretaker, the love of Cloud’s life, was back from the dead. No explanation was needed as to how she returned, just as long as she was back to be amongst the rest of them for the rest of her life. Angel had gotten acquainted with the flower girl, and also did not ask questions. Happiness was not something she wanted to break. Rhade wasn’t too fond of breaking happy moments either, which is why he felt as if he were slowly going out of his damn mind.

The voices in his head were laughing, that’s all. All but one laughed at him, because they had nothing to say. He hadn’t revived Aeris, that was for sure. Or had he? Had he done it in a moment of spite or anger or panic? Maybe had done it when he saw Tifa break down in Angel’s arms? No, couldn’t be it. He’d never do that to Tifa. If Aeris was alive, that meant Cloud would get together and confess his feelings, leaving poor Tifa broken and all by herself. Rhade would stay with her, but if he did something like that to her? If he broke her heart, he would just curl up in a ball and cry.

He would never hurt Tifa. Never.

Rhade paced back and forth behind Sanctuary, tugging his hair and feeling like he was going insane. Who had done it? Who had brought Aeris back? Would she take Cloud away from Tifa? Would Tifa hate Rhade’s guts for sticking around? Why was this all happening to her? Why did the world have this excessive need to screw Tifa again and again? Her mother, her father, her town, her ill-made unwitting knight in dull armor...

He turned to pace another round, and walked right into a hand that clasped around his neck and lifted him off the ground.

Vincent’s eyes narrowed. “What did Angel mean when she asked you if you had done it?”

The voices screamed for Rhade to kill the man who hurt him, but he refused. He merely held onto Vincent’s wrist and flailed his legs. “She... She...” He couldn’t answer.

A low grow came from behind Vincent, and Red stepped into view. “You might want to answer, or Vincent just might use his other hand.” Vincent brought his claw up, flexing the fingers menacingly.

He couldn’t form a conscious thought in his head anymore. Rhade clamped his eyes shut, and finally forced it. “...She asked me if I brought her back!”

Vincent did not arch an eyebrow. “From the dead? You can do that?”

“Yes!” Rhade gasped.

There was a sigh at the back of his head. Dumbass. You shoulda done what I said and made yourself invulnerable to pain and not just death. Just because you bore getting lashed through the stomach doesn’t mean you’ll get through having your throat crushed.

“How?” Rhade remained quiet, except for the occasional gasps.

Because he’s omnipotent. The hair on Red’s neck bristled. A voice that was not his own spoke up in his mind. It sounded like Rhade, but it was... too confident to be him...

‘What?’

You heard me, mutt-boy. O-M-N-I-P-O-T-E-N-T. He can bring her back to life because he can do whatever he wants, no questions asked, and no strings attached.

‘Who are you?’

A voice in his damn head. Stop asking questions...

Red’s eyes widened. The day was getting stranger and stranger. “Vincent, put him down.”

Vincent turned to eye Red curiously, and dropped Rhade. “The reason being...?”

Red looked down to Rhade, who had tucked his head between his knees, was pulling his hair again, and was shivering violently. “He’s all-powerful. He can do anything he wants as long as he wills it to happen.”

Vincent paused. “And how would you know?”

“He told me.”

“...He told you?”

Yes.”

“...He can do anything?”

Red nodded. “Anything. Including revival of the dead.”

For a split second, a single possibility ran through Vincent’s head. ‘Lucrecia...

His reveries were interrupted by a loud sound, like an explosion, from inside Sanctuary.

As Vincent and Red ran around to find out what it was, Rhade lied there on the ground. The singular voice at the back of his head smiled. Rhade was slowly losing his grip on reality. Vincent and Red knew his secret, and they’d probably tell Tifa. And, after that, they would all think that he brought back Aeris to take away Cloud, so he could have Tifa all to himself. Things would go downhill from there. It would appear that the Planet had screwed Rhade again, though he never thought about the world screwing him over, oh no, Rhade only thought about how the Planet screwed over Tifa, and how much he’d like to see her happy. But soon Tifa would hate him. And Rhade would finally lose everything. That would be when he would take control, kick Rhade down with all the other voices, and be free of the damn emptiness. Those other voices would not be his only company anymore.

----

Have you found an innocent yet?

Yes. I found a girl. She is very pure.

Good. Bring her to the Capitol. I have the Black Materia again. Come quickly.

Yes.

Aeris’ eyes shifted about warily. She was being showered with attention by everybody, but that did not matter. All that mattered right now was getting the girl with the odd hair, and bringing her to Sephiroth. That would not be a problem. Everybody was paying attention to her, looking at her, trying to talk to her, watching what she was doing, but that didn’t matter. They didn’t know what was coming, anyways. She held her clasped hands to her chest, like she was praying. Everyone was silenced out of curiosity. A small ball of blue energy formed around her hands. Everyone leaned in closer, like they could see their futures by looking into it...

The ball of energy exploded, throwing them away and sending everyone out of consciousness. Aeris stood up, and looked around. Not one other person stood. She would have to move quickly; the animal and the dark one in red had left, and probably had heard that. She ran to Angel’s prone form, scooped her up with the greatest of ease, and ran out of Sanctuary.

----

Greyson Black, with his shotgun slung over his shoulder, slowly trod passed a sign marked ‘KALM: A Miner’s Town.’ He also passed a large ship with the picture of a bikini-clad woman painted on the side. Though it looked to be meant for flying, it did not attract his attention. He had seen flying machines much more impressive in his lifetime.

Finally, he had reached a real town. He had passed a farm some time ago, but since he had no ‘gil,’ what he guessed was one of the world’s forms of currency, and did not know what a ‘chocobo’ was, they wouldn’t let him stay. So he was forced to walk several more miles to this quaint little place. He had come to very few buildings on the outskirts of the place, most of them looking to be shops or bars. The people manning them all looked at him strangely as he passed by. Maybe he should stop by one of them and ask if they had spotted a teenage girl with purple hair?

He approached one building, perhaps the only truly lively one in town, marked ‘Tifa’s Sanctuary At The Edge of the World.’ Out front was on of those chocobos. This one had a saddle and harness, which was tried to a fencepost outside. It looked rather angry, for it occasionally bucked and tried to nip at the leather strap binding it to the fencepost.

‘This place had better be a Sanctuary. Past few days have been hell. He needed to stop brooding and get some work. He might be staying here for quite a while. Greyson swore that the place was throwing a party or something. Then it all hushed down. The silence was followed by an explosion.

He paused in his tracks, and raised an eyebrow. ‘Perhaps that’s not the best place to turn to in a time of need.He closed his eyes for a second, pursed his lips, then shook it off and continued to the Sanctuary.

A brunette wearing a shoulderless pink dress ran out carrying something in her arms. The chocobo snapped at her as she passed, but the girl ignored the irate bird.

It took a few seconds for Greyson to notice that the one she was carrying had long purple hair. ‘Angel!’ He raised his arm and broke into a sprint. “Wait! Miss!”

A man dressed in black and red ran from behind the bar with a red wolf-like creature trailing him. The girl in pink raised her hand, and shot beams of green at them, throwing the both of them back a considerable distance.

‘She’s not the type to stop for questions, is she?’ Greyson began to run, ready to raise his shotgun if need be. Small masses of something began to come from all over, going past him at an incredible rate, and forming into one pile under the girl in pink.

What it formed he could only describe as ‘a horse with all its hair shaved off, chopped into many little pieces, then put back together in the wrong order.’ Whatever it was did have four legs, but it looked like it had been formed from tiny piles of guts and gristle. As he reached Sanctuary, the monstrosity bolted off with the girl in pink and Angel on its back, heading southwest.

He had no means of following it; it was much faster then he could ever hope to run. Then he remembered the chocobo. He looked over to it. The thing was kicking wildly and squawking like mad, angrily wanting to get free and tear up whatever that thing had been. Greyson had an idea.

He ran up to the chocobo, ran around its kicking claws, and jumped on its back. It didn’t seem to mind. With his left hand he held to the reins, and with the right he aimed his shotgun back and nicely shot the tether that had been tied to the fencepost. The bird shot off at a high speed that nearly threw the mercenary off. His legs tightened around the chocobo, and he wished that the saddle had a few foots straps.

He gave a loud shout of “Hyah!” urging the bird to go faster. That it did, and they began to close in on the mass of organic waste with the girl riding on top, still holding on to Angel like she was a well-deserved prize.

“Hyet!” He leveled his shotgun, and aimed carefully.

No, wait. Shotgun fire was no weapon to use against a rapidly-moving target with valuable cargo on board. He slowly tucked his shotgun under his arm, hoping that he didn’t drop it, as he planned on using it to question the girl in the pink dress. As soon as his right hand was free, he jerked his hand down, and a revolver flipped out of his sleeve and into his hand. He raised it to full arm’s-length, closed his left eye, and aimed for the creature.

All sound around him ceased, for he wanted to hear nothing. Any smells that would waft into his nose were ignored, because his focus was on something else. All he concentrated on now was the single shot, no distractions. It was just him, the gun, and his target. ‘One shot. I will stop whatever you are with one shot. I have done it to things much less pleasant than you, and I will not hesitate in doing it again.

A single round fired off, rocketing forward, and ripping hard at one of the creature’s front legs.

It slowed for a second, almost throwing off both of its riders, but it somehow stabilized, and began to run on its back legs.

‘Damn the luck of it all...They appeared to be quickly approaching a coast, or a cliff, as it looked from their view. Beyond it was a long expanse of ocean. He aimed again, still oblivious to any sound, and fired another shot. He nailed it dead in the back, almost hitting the girl in pink, but it barely flinched.

‘They will have to turn, and I will be waiting. I’ll just have to shoot the rider instead.He carefully began to aim for the girl’s head.

Surprisingly, the two-legged thing she was riding jumped right over the cliff. The chocobo, not wanting to follow suit, skidded to a halt right near the edge. Greyson’s tuned-out sense of hearing returned to him as he dismounted the chocobo and watched the mass of guts drop and actually run across the water.

Greyson grimaced coldly. There was no way he could make it now. If this bird was reluctant to jump, then it probably couldn’t run across the water. The both of them glared at the creature as it began to turn for the north, still running over the water. Greyson let go of the revolver, allowing it to slip back up his right sleeve, and dismounted the chocobo.

‘If I am ever able to track that thing down, I will end it...Though his chance was gone his resolve was not. He heard a distant-yet-rapidly-approaching rumble from behind him...

...And as he turned around to see what it was, the Highwind flew over his head, not going at its top speed, but obviously intent on getting to wherever that girl was taking Angel. The chocobo was exhausted, but still managed to squawk angrily at it. Greyson shielded his eyes from sunlight. All they could do now was watch as the Highwind disappeared into the distance...

----

Cid’s hands scrambled frantically over the controls. ‘Faster, faster, failure, compensate, faster, recompensate, go, go go go faster and follow. Can’t stop now, have to get them...Only the most primordial and simplistic thoughts ran through his head as everyone’s levels of panic shot through the roof. Those not tapping their feet were tapping their fingers, and those who did neither paced impatiently, silently wishing they could go faster without the Highwind flying apart.

Cloud paced impatiently back and forth, constantly tightening and loosening his grip on the Buster Sword and looking like his head was ready to explode.

Tifa, with her arms crossed over her stomach, stood at her usual spot, warily watching Cloud and unconsciously tapping her foot.

Barret kept his mind off everything by shadowboxing, occasionally glancing to Cloud or Tifa.

Red paced around the deck, with fur bristling and a deep growl in his throat, sometimes stopping to let out a terrific roar of anger.

Yuffie leaned on one of the control panels, staring straight out into the sky and nervously tapping her fingers on the sleek surface, forgetting that she should be out in the hall and nauseous beyond belief.

Vincent checked his ammunition, making sure that the Death Penalty was fully loaded, and slowly tapped one booted foot while trying intensely to keep the glare out of his eyes.

Reeve tinkered with the mog half of Cait Sith II, which he had brought aboard the helicopter, occasionally taking his eyes off the robot and glancing around shiftily.

Elmyra was not there. She had stayed behind with Marlene at Sanctuary, nearly having an anxiety attack when she remembered exactly what Aeris had done to everyone.

Rhade was not there. Vincent had gone to look for him before they had all left, but he was nowhere to be found.

Everything was going wrong. At least the things that had already happened had gone wrong; almost everyone guaranteed that the Highwind would blow up before they reached whatever their destination with their present streak of luck. Why was Aeris doing this? Would she normally do this? Was it really even Aeris, or some twisted dream? Was Rhade doing all this? Why did Aeris need Angel? Where were they going? What was that thing she was riding on? How could it cross an ocean? Nothing seemed right. Things were going by too fast to keep track of it all...

Cid’s gaze alternated from the control panel to the horizon. His gaze was caught by a landmass, and he pointed to it. “There!” Everyone stopped and looked.

A large animal skull surrounded by an encampment came into view. Behind it was a large mountain range. It came to all of them within a heartbeat.

Vincent snapped the Death Penalty shut. “I think she’s heading for the Ancient City.”

Cloud fought the temptation to embed the Buster Sword into the inner hull, and instead resolved to a low growl. “But why?”

“My best guess is that she wants to go to the altar to make a sacrifice.” Vincent holstered his rifle.

NO!” Cloud snapped and smashed his sword into the ground. All eyes snapped to him. Cid did not yell at him. Cloud shivered as he quickly calmed himself down. “It... It has to be something reasonable...”

Cid turned back to the controls to slow the Highwind down. “F@&# reason.”

Cloud closed his eyes, muttering through clenched teeth and adding emphasis to each word. “It. Has. To be. Something. Reasonable...” He removed his blade from the floorboards. “It has to be. She’s got to be doing this for a reason.”

Barret shook his head. “Who knows?”

Cloud hung his head. “She couldn’t have come back from the dead just to kill some kid.”

Tifa said nothing. ‘That’s right, she came back for you, didn’t she?’

Cloud clamped his eyes shut. “Maybe Rhade...”

Red continued pacing. “It’s not him. If it were, he would just have things happen immediately, not through procession like this. He can literally do anything he wants, so why would he want it to happen over a long time?”

Cloud looked to Red. “Maybe he likes hurting people.”

Red glared at Cloud. “No. I’ve seen sadists before. Professor Hojo was a sadist. There’s no way Rhade’s a sadist, not after the way he broke down.”

The engines to the Highwind died down, and there was a soft grinding sound as the Highwind touched ground. Cid began to stalk off to the hall. “We’re here. Get your stuff ready.” He entered the Meeting Room, and exited with the Venus Gospel in his hands, and the Flayer strapped to his back. Everyone seemed to be brooding to themselves except for Barret, who was already on the stairs, and Reeve, who was putting the finishing touches on Cait Sith.

“C’mon!” Cid interrupted their thoughts. “If she does wanna make a sacrifice, then we sure don’t have too #$&^in’ long before she kills that kid!” He began to dash up the stairs, with everyone else following. Reeve zipped up the mog’s back, and dashed after. After a few seconds, Cait Sith came to life. The cat looked around for a second, then pointed to their stairs. The mog complied, and raced toward the stairs, after everyone else.

Cid had thankfully bypassed the excavation site and the Ancient Forest, bringing them directly to the wondrous city itself. After that, time didn’t seem to flow right. They all ran for that building in the middle of the Forgotten City. That single accursed building where it had happened. Where three people watched the death of a friend, and everyone else heard about it. To those who weren’t there it had seemed so unreal. There was no way Aeris could be dead, just... It had to’ve been impossible! But to those there, to Cloud, she went after she was dropped into that beautiful pool of aquamarine. Oh yes, she was gone forever. Correction: She wasn’t gone forever. That last part changed yesterday. She came back. Had she come back just to spite them? What an unpleasant thought.

Now was not the time for negative thinking. They might have a life to save.

They ran through the narrow passage cut through the thick wall of tree, ran up the way that so many feet of years past had trod on, ran into the building that was made out of the age-old conch shell, up the wooden ramps constructed by hands that had never felt anything with the emblem of Shinra on it, down the spiraling crystal staircase normally concealed by a wall of water, and into the forgotten place, or at least they place that all of them wanted to forget.

At the bottom, they met three inauspicious sights. The first was an undulating mass of organic matter, the source of which could most likely never be identified now, as it was all tainted green. The second was Aeris, wearing that beautiful smile she used to wear when she was happy, and holding a slab of crystal taken off from somewhere around, long enough to be used as a staff, and sharp enough on both ends to be considered a truly lethal weapon. And the third, the worst of all, the least expected and ungodliest sight to see now and at any time...

...was Sephiroth, Masamune in one hand, and Black Materia in the other...

No words were spoken, no questions asked, but both sides immediately declared war on each other. Cloud went after Sephiroth with a scream that pierced the darkness. Aeris went after Cid, for he was the closest. The Jenova-tainted mass went after everything and anything else, splitting into multiple parts and assaulting all opponents that moved.

Reeve was no natural-born fighter. He rarely lifted weights, and only went jogging on occasion, but that would not help him now. He stayed close to his robotic counterpart, working at an unprecedented rate mentally, splitting his concentration between moving out of the way and attacking by ordering the mog through Cait. He managed to get by easily.

Barret and Vincent had a slightly tougher time. Their nameless opponents split into multiple parts, small and very hard to shoot. But both had nearly mastered their marksman skills, and did manage to pick off a large number of the swarming beasties. Barret made the mistake of crushing one with his boot when it got too close to shoot. He cried out as several bony little spikes shot through the sole and into his foot. Had it been any other less-dangerous situation, it would’ve been rather comical to watch him hop around while trying to pry something off the bottom of his boot. But it was not funny. Vincent aided him with a swipe of his claw, removing most of it immediately.

Cid was not well off. Aeris swung at him fast and hard, nearly taking off any random yet valuable part of his body several times. He did not feeling like rushing forward and skewering someone he knew and even loved dearly, never mind someone who had come back from the dead. So he made himself fight a defensive fight. It was a fight he was slowly starting to lose.

Tifa was not so lucky. Fighting things that could split into things much smaller than she was not something she had trained for. She still would’ve been able to manage, though. She was a very creative fighter. She could innovate some useful tactics right now, had it not been for the creatures’ ability to shoot harpoons into her fists and feet whenever she attacked them. She recalled that she did have some materia with her, and resorted to freezing them in blocks of ice then smashing them, or merely casting Break on them, which they did not take too well.

Yuffie and Red had it remarkably easy. The piles of guts, blood, and bone were no match against her Conformer. Whether she slashed or threw, none would last very long. Red stuck with Yuffie because he was the only one who fought with his own body other than Tifa, but he had some materia with him. He gave a roar, and another conglomerate of organic mass was burnt to a crisp. Through all the fighting, he could not help but ask himself where Angel was...

Aeris swung downward, and Cid back-stepped. She lashed forward, he sidestepped. She raised the chunk of crystal high up into the air to smash Cid’s head in, and he raised the Venus Gospel to block. Mistake.

Instead of going for the overhead blow expected, she went under Cid’s raised weapon, and stabbed him in the gut, barely missing his stomach. Cid let out a loud cry, followed by a string of silent cursing. Aeris placed her foot right next to the wound, and shoved Cid off her weapon. The Flayer somehow broke out of its straps, and dropped to the ground.

Cid, ripped off his scarf, tried to blot his wound with it, leaned on the Venus Gospel for support, and hobbled away from the fight as quickly as he could. As soon as he was out of harm’s way, he sluggishly dropped against a wall, reached into one of his pants’ pockets with his free hand, and pulled out a Cure Materia. ‘Ain’t no way I’m gonna f$*%in’ die yet, I still gotta fly one more time...

Cloud fought against Sephiroth with a new intensity and rage that he never had before. Damn him, damn the white-haired demon that haunted him day in and day out. Had he brought back Aeris? Was he the one who turned her against them? That was probably it. Sephiroth couldn’t just settle with taking away a town, a dozen or two innocent lives, and a dear, dear friend. No, he had to come back, haunt them with it, then try to kill them all in their misery. He would pay, oh he would pay...

Sephiroth blocked a strong overhead swipe, then lashed forward. Cloud sidestepped, and swung to behead Sephiroth. Sephiroth ducked, then lashed forward again. Cloud sidestepped, avoiding the strike. Sephiroth drew back, then slammed Cloud with the blunt side of the Masamune, sending him to the ground. A quick downward strike was all it took.

Cloud’s world flashed white. ‘No! Not now, oh please God, not now!’ His life flashed before him in a span of five seconds. Then his world flashed a familiar pale-yellow, and the nightmare came. The same nightmare. Aeris holding the rose and crying. Sephiroth appearing behind her and raising the Masamune. The swipe went across then...

Stopped.

Sephiroth did not cut her in half, but halted right there. He lowered the blade, then stepped beside Aeris, and put his arm around her shoulders. Aeris just sadly shook her head. A trick. It wasn’t the real Aeris that took advantage of them. That was why he wanted to finish the dream. It was a prophecy.

Cloud knew why Aeris, the real Aeris cried now. She was sorry.

Sephiroth reached over with his free hand, grasping the yellow rose in Aeris’ hands. It took a little effort to pry it out of her grip, but he forced her to let go. Sephiroth let the flower fall to the ground. He crushed the yellow rose under his heel.

Cloud felt himself get turned over, then heard a crunch as Sephiroth’s boot came down on his neck.

Fade to black.

Now undistracted, Sephiroth quickly walked up the pillars leading to the main platform of the altar, to where Angel was.

Red saw him head for the altar. With another wave of fire, he dispatched the creatures blocking his way, and tore in a beeline for Sephiroth, purely intent on stopping him. Within a few meters, Nanaki leapt a great leap, paws outward, and looking to pounce with all his might.

Sephiroth whirled around, and swiped horizontally.

One half of Nanaki smashed into the altar, and fell into the water. The other half of Nanaki slid across the floor to Sephiroth’s feet. Yuffie was the first to notice and to react. She screamed something incoherent, probably meant as an obscenity, but she had no words anymore. She ran at Sephiroth, ignoring the bile reaching up to her throat, in a perfect position to kill him.

Aeris, not occupied with Cid anymore, dove at her and barely managed to scratch one of Yuffie’s legs with the point of her staff. It was just enough to make her stumble. Yuffie pitched forward, flailing her arms in a poor attempt to regain her balance. Sephiroth lashed forward, stabbing the Masamune halfway through Yuffie’s stomach.

She opened her mouth to scream, but only managed a heart-rending, pitiful gurgle. Sephiroth lifted her up, she hung limply from the blade, trying to clutch at it, and he threw her far into the water. Yuffie hit the water with a loud slap, and the bloodied Conformer clattered to his feet.

Unhindered once again, Sephiroth went back up the altar, to finish off the little girl lying unconscious there.

Angel was not one of strong constitution, and remained unconscious much longer than everyone else had. That was good; it meant she’d stay still until everyone else arrived. He wanted them all to see what he was doing, to realize what he had done. It would hurt them just as badly as sending that mass of Jenova that they thought was Aeris after them. They would suffer greatly before dying. And he would revel in his revenge. He raised the Masamune up high, deadly intent on killing the poor girl.

‘No, wait. Should I be doing this?’ It was his conscience again. ‘Yes, I should. They hurt Mother, and they must pay for it. They will suffer as she has...

“Please don’t hurt me.” Angel was awake. She pushed herself against the back barrier, hoping that she would just go through it if the man standing over her with that sword had in mind what she thought he had in mind.

“It shouldn’t hurt. And if it does, it’ll only hurt for a few seconds, and then it’ll all go away.” Sephiroth smiled, what would be soothing in most cases. But this was a purely evil smile, a smirk, for Sephiroth held this pathetic whelp’s life in his hands, and she knew that he was going to take her future away from her.

“Please!” She gasped and slid further up against the wall. “I didn’t do anything wrong, I just gave people some drinks! That... That’s not wrong... Please... Don’t hurt me!” Tears began to slide down her face.

“My apologies, I just need something to give to the Black Materia. And you happen to be the best candidate for a sacrifice, girl.” Sephiroth’s eyes narrowed, his gaze and stance unwavering. Angel moaned in sadness, knowing exactly what was coming. “Don’t be sad, child. You will contribute to all becoming good in the world. With your death comes my rise to godhood, then everything shall become one. With me, that is. You don’t mind, do you?”

Angel nodded furiously, for she did mind greatly, eyes wet with tears and sobs in her throat. “But I don’t want to die! I just want to go home!”

A mental alarm went off in his head. ‘Home? Never had one of those...

‘No, Sephiroth. You cannot pity this girl now. Not when we’re so close.

‘But can’t we find somebody else? There’s something... something special about this one.

‘You have seen ones just like her beg for mercy, and that did not stop you then.

‘I haven’t seen one like this. She’s innocent. And pure.

‘Which is why she’s perfect for summoning the Meteor.

Sephiroth lowered the Masamune, and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘But Mother, can’t we just spare her...

‘No! Not after all we’ve been through! If you spare her now, those other humans will just kill you off for bringing up the image of that girl they like so much. I do not want to go through this again! We will not be stopped again after going this far! The Planet is almost in our reach. Do you understand, Sephiroth?’

...

‘Do you understand?!’

Sephiroth opened his eyes.

Angel stared earnestly at him, almost smiling slightly. “Are... You’re not gonna hurt me?”

Sephiroth’s lips were pursed, and his eyes were apologetic. “Sorry...”

Angel’s smile disappeared, and her eyes became frantic. She looked around for a way, anyway to escape.

Sephiroth raised the Masamune up again...

----

The bleakness of outer space, merely dotted with several thousand pinpoints of light, was in peace. A small space over the Planet disturbed, light waves shifting out of alignment, then there was a small flash of light. A small one-man ship resembling a jet fighter was now where the disturbance had been. It was sleek, black, and fast. It turned, and began to rocket down to the Planet. Controlling it was a single man.

Rank Archer was a man of moderately-strong build, auburn hair, and blue eyes. Many women considered him very handsome. He had been a police officer. He had continued working when everyone went on strike because they weren’t getting paid enough. He saw policework as ‘protecting the little people who needed it.’ They saw it as a way to make money. They had families to feed. He did not. This mere difference eventually led to him being black-balled after the whole fiasco ended by a higher-up who had participated in the strike. So, with no other options other than leaving the state, or, even worse, the country, he went into the mercenary business, giving his services to whatever worthy cause would take him. One day, he found a ‘Mercenaries Wanted’ ad in the paper, strangely enough. Not one to turn down what seemed to be a challenge, he went to the designated address, and became the world’s first Random Task Agent.

Things took off from there.

Jobs offers poured in. With the assignments came money, and with the money he and others were paid came commission. They were the best of the best, so they were expensive. Obviously, his employers had a reputation he hadn’t been aware of. All of them were out to make the world a safer place. But everything still got pretty chaotic from time to time. Now, amidst the entertaining disorder that was his life, Angel had disappeared. Yes, his bosses’ youngest adoptive ‘niece’ had disappeared, along with his co-worker, fellow mercenary, and travel buddy Greyson Black, through an accidental rift, and now everyone was going nuts. The heads of the R.T.A. organization had recalled them all from whatever missions they were on, and sent them to look for them. They all complied without hesitation.

Most of the R.T.A.s, himself included, knew Angel. She was the sweetest little kid anyone could ever meet. Peaceful, wise, not a trace of sin or bad intent in her, a beautiful child. Maybe even perfect. Those who knew her adored her. Those who did not should have known her, for they didn’t care or just hated her for her goody-goody reputation. No one would ever do a thing to hurt her.

So far, Gyro, the only one of the three in the lab not sucked into the rift, had traced the locations of Angel and Greyson to a certain range of coordinates. Rank had already been to a few worlds looking for her; a girl appearing out of an inconspicuous blue rip in reality would sure be noticeable. All of the planets had the same geography. Small towns with daily or weekly newspapers, none of them with a single mention of a purple-haired girl who came from nowhere. He asked, no one knew. So far, he had not gotten any readings from the tracker that his bosses insisted that everyone who worked for them or lived with them wear.

He swooped down in the Viper, as the craft was called, and began to fly to the nearest landmass. A beeping went off. His attention snapped to a small radar device he had left on one of the control panels. It had a blip on it.

The anticipation in his heart shot up. It was either going to be Angel or Greyson. This was great.

The ship quickly made a U-turn, and flew toward the location of that blip.

A landmass came into sight within a few seconds. A large animal skull surrounded by an encampment came into view. Behind it was a large mountain range. The locator device indicated that whoever it was had to be behind and below the encampment. He slowed down, and sailed into a small chasm. The color of the place was eerie; a pale blue that he was sure he had never seen in any kind of rock. He flew over where the locator said the tracker was. Rank quickly turned the Viper around to find an open space; the area had been wrought thickly with brush.

The Viper slowly descended onto a convergence of three paths. After a few seconds of confirming that the atmosphere was completely safe, the cockpit slid open, and Rank hopped out. He looked at the radar screen of the locator held in his hand, and bolted down the center path. The entire place reminded him of some coral formation. Pale, smooth, beautiful even, if he thought like some of his more poetic buds. He followed the path through a narrow way in a coral forest, to an awe-inspiring building that brought back to him old memories of beaches and conch shells. The locator showed that he was over whichever of the two it was by several meters. That building was probably the only way down. He rushed in. It reminded him of one of those big aquariums with the tunnels passing around them, where people could walk by and see the fish. There actually looked to be a staircase lining the inside of the tube. It led down. Rank dashed up the spiral, then began to go down the crystal staircase with enough speed that he almost slipped a few times. It spiraled down and down and down into a foreboding, inky blackness that gave him a dreadful feeling. He began to hear the sounds of scuffling. He mentally kicked himself for leaving his Clipper, R. Force Semi-Ballistic Weaponry Series 2, in the Viper. A tower-like structure came into sight; Rank didn’t let its crystalline beauty distract him as he continued downward. Eventually, the rest of the scenery below caught his eye...

Damn. What a mess.

Most of the platforms were covered in some grisly organic material. It looked like someone had tossed a bunch of small woodland creatures into a blender, set it to ‘puree,’ and dumped it everywhere. A few people were actually fighting large masses of the pulp. Some guy dressed in red, another big guy with a gun for a hand, a lanky fellow in a business suit standing close to some crowned and caped cat perched atop a big white monstrous thing... A pilot-type was standing around the bottom of the staircase, not looking too well off. Some lady in pink looked perfectly intent on killing something. There were a few dead bodies littering the place. Some scantily-clad girl hovered over a blond man dressed in purple, with a big-ass sword lying near him. His neck looked broken, and he was surrounded by a nice puddle of blood. Add insult to injury, he guessed. Some animal had been chopped in half, with the lower half on a platform, and the other turning the water below a light shade of crimson. There was another body floating in the water, looked like another scantily-clad girl who had met a grisly fate.

‘Damn. Where the hell could they be?’ He scanned some more, until his eyes fell upon the altar directly below him.

‘Angel? Angel! Indeed, there she was, trying to get away from some white-haired man wearing lots of leather, and bearing a really long katana. She was crying.

She rarely ever cried. This was bad. Not just bad, very bad...

Every word in his mind left him as the white-haired man ran her through the gut, collected himself, then slowly stepped down from the altar.

Rank’s thoughts turned into static. He had just heard a scream he had never, ever wanted to hear in his life. She had just been mortally wounded. He hadn’t had a chance to do anything. Did he have a chance? Just maybe...

Screw personal health. Rank jumped right off the staircase, plunged about a single story down, and grabbed onto the side of the altar before dropping into bloodied water. Ignoring the distinctly painful rubber-band feeling in his arms, he hefted himself up, and dropped into the little altar. He instinctively ripped off a shirtsleeve, and began to apply pressure to Angel’s wound, not checking if she were alive or not.

“Hel... help me, I don’t wanna die...” Angel was still alive. She coughed up a little blood.

“You’re not going to die, you’re not going to, oh God help me...” Rank looked her straight in the eyes. The youthful glee was gone. The glow in those emeralds of hers was still there, but the jewels were slowly chipping away. She was truly terrified. He felt violated just seeing her like this...

“But... I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go, I don’t w...a...n...n...a... d...i...e...” The blood in her throat began to garble her speech.

“I’m gonna stop the bleeding, and I’m gonna take you home, you’ll be alright...” He desperately tried to ignore the puddle of blood that began to form around her...

“Angel? You’re gonna be oh...”

Angel?! No...”

Rank looked down at her. She was just staring up into space, like she saw something coming for her just as she died. He arms were spread to her sides, like she expected Rank to give her a big hug before Death scooped her up and carried her far far away. His eyes were beginning to burn like hell. He wrapped one arm around her neck, the other under her arms, and hugged her tightly. He couldn’t do anything else. He had failed miserably. What was he supposed to do? Go back home and tell everyone that their beloved Angel was dead? Dead, dead, dead, dead. What a crap day. It wasn’t right.

He looked over his shoulder, and glanced at the white-haired bastard who was standing on the platforms and concentrating on something. Rank grit his teeth. Someone had to pay.

He left Angel’s body on the altar, crept down the steps, and soundlessly picked up a weapon that had been carelessly left lying around. The Conformer. He was gonna make him pay. He snuck up behind the murderer, and tapped him on the shoulder.

Caught off guard, Sephiroth whirled around with the Masamune raised and ready to kill.

Rank ducked low, and jammed the Conformer deep into his stomach.

“That’s right, jackass. You cry when I tell you to cry, you bleed when I tell you to bleed, you move when I tell you to move. You don’t know who you’re dealing with, I’ll beat you ‘til you can’t breath anymore...” Rank hissed through clenched teeth as Sephiroth doubled over, squawking in ungodly pain and reminded of a familiar time from several months ago. He tried to yank the Conformer out of his gut, but even standing drained most of his strength. Bullets hadn’t bothered him, knives hadn’t bothered him, but the Conformer was. It had actually gone deep and hurt him instead of just stopping at the skin.

Rank searched the area for another weapon, and set his eyes on the Flayer. He began to let the rage boil out as he swept up it up, and reared back like a maniacal batter up at plate.

“Aw, you wanna roll yer eyes at me? I’ll roll that head o’ yours out on the floor!!!” With one flawless stroke, Rank swung the Flayer’s rarely-used axe blade at Sephiroth’s neck.

A head with beautiful flowing white hair toppled across the platform.

Everything stopped right there. The pureed rat parts ceased to move. Vincent and Barret, still standing close to each other for safety’s sake, ceased to shoot at their targets to look at the vengeful Rank. Cid distracted himself enough from healing to watch Rank give out some harsh infuriated yell. Cait Sith and its mog slumped as Reeve gave his full attention to the screaming madman. Tifa refused to acknowledge his presence, too caught up in her Cloud.

The Aeris duplicate gave out an inaudible cry at seeing Sephiroth suddenly become two parts, one of those parts rolling off the platform and adding to the already crimson waters. She looked around for any target to kill, and saw Barret and Vincent. She leapt at Barret first, and struck him neatly through the chest before anybody could fully realize what had happened. Vincent was shocked into action, and raised his Death Penalty to put her out of her misery. She reacted too quickly, knocking the rifle away as he got the shot off. She struck hard enough to actually make him lose balance, and drew back to kill him too. If she would have her way, she would kill all of them. But it was not her day.

A hand reached out and grabbed onto the business end of the pointed staff. She looked to the hand, then quickly traced it back to its owner...

Rhade.

He lashed out with his free hand, grabbing her by the hair and drawing her backwards. She tried to scream as he glared down into her with unstable blue eyes, momentarily flashing of Mako green. Aeris gave out a desperate cry before having her life ripped out. The last thing she saw was a river of Lifestream rushing towards her...

The staff of crystal dropped to the ground along with a fresh body free of damage. There was a long period of silence before anybody said anything.

“...What the %*#$ just happened?!” Cid hobbled forward, still leaning on the Venus Gospel for support. Vincent looked to him, and merely shook his head. Reeve felt like he was going to puke. The three of them could just feel the pain creeping up on them. Aeris. Red. Yuffie. Angel. Cloud. Barret. All of them were dead.

Tifa already felt it. She would not pay any attention to anything else but her Cloud. She stayed on her knees, letting the tears stream down her face and staying perfectly still. She couldn’t feel anything except the emptiness that quickly consumed her upon watching him die. Why did Fate see fit in brutally killing the ones she loved? She was cursed to it; first her mother to that disease, then her father and her entire town to Sephiroth, then Cloud, once again to Sephiroth. She had lost him twice before. Or had it been three times? Watching him lose Aeris probably could count as losing him the second time. But now she had lost him a third time. She had not been paying enough attention, and she really lost him. It was for good this time.

Rhade looked down at her, eyes filled with sadness. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to squelch the tears coming from his eyes. Why did Fate see fit in brutally killing the ones she loved? The Planet had given her a curse; first her mother to that disease, then her father and her entire town to Sephiroth, then Cloud, once again to Sephiroth. But now Sephiroth was dead. Rhade wouldn’t let her lose anything else. He would make her happy. Yes, he would try with every bit of spirit in his body, and she would be happy.

Tifa finally broke her stare, and looked up to Rhade. He smiled slightly, then shut his eyes again, concentrating deeply on something.

Vincent, Cid, Reeve, and Rank watched as the world around them shattered like glass, and felt themselves plunge into an endless darkness...

----

A frozen wasteland at the base of a mountain was no place to live. Robert Fields had only been there for five hours or so, and he had already deduced that the hard way.

He stood on the deck of Holzoff’s shack, protecting the cigarette in his mouth from the biting, no, mauling winds, and trying to ignore the pain slowly building in his lower back. His situation had gone from bad, to worse, to even worse, to ‘completely f*#&ed,’ as Payne had so eloquently put it. And the worst thing about that was that he was absolutely right. First the botched robbery, then being collectively evaluated by Reno, Rude, Elena, and the head honcho himself, then being sent to Gaea’s Cliff, then being attacked by Sephiroth. Ha. Sephiroth. The name sent chills down the spine of Godo Kisaragi, and now Fields understood firsthand why. He probably wasn’t that vicious before going nuts, but how the hell could a guy wearing black leather stand being in that cold, never mind become near-invisible in it? He had nearly cut Dulacross in half, nearly disarmed Grody, and nearly eviscerated Payne before beating the living hell out of himself and Tucker and walking off. Holzoff said he would’ve killed them both, but the bastard went into the shack to get the Black Materia, then just turned heel and started heading south. He had asked why Holzoff hadn’t grabbed Payne’s rifle and shot him. Holzoff answered by saying he was too busy dragging their carcasses into his house, then showing him the remnants of the rifle.

He’d give Payne credit; despite being a total ass sometimes, he was tough. He got choked, thrown, stabbed, crushed, gutted, and then still came back for more. He even insisted on trying to help the other three before finally falling unconscious.

Fields didn’t know how Holzoff did it, but he stopped Dulacross’ internal bleeding, and saved her life. She had been bleeding everywhere, the sight made his blood run colder than it already was; a near-impossible feat considering his location. He still wore the bloodstains from carrying her inside. Poor kid. She really wasn’t meant to be a Turk, but she was drafted out of the SOLDIER program, rose to the occasion, and became an exceptional Turk. According to what Reeve wanted them to be, anyways. Fields had been a potential draftee before the Shinra Empire collapsed, so he had gotten to learn what the Turks really did. She wasn’t made for the kidnapping, cold-blooded killing, interrogating...

Tucker though, she had been made for it. She loved her work, she loved being above the law, loved almost every aspect of it. But this week she hated it, because it had been repeatedly coming back and dragging her by the ears to pay her back for all the bad things she had done in the past.

“You’re gonna catch somethin’ awful if you don’t come inside.” Fields looked back, and saw Holzoff standing in front of the shack’s closed door.

He puffed the cigarette, and looked back out to the wasteland. “...Not my concern right now.”

“Right, kid. You probably haven’t had pneumonia yet.” Holzoff shook his head. He turned to get back into his shack before something in the sky caught his attention.

“...Well, what do you know? Looks like Sephiroth used the Black Materia.”

“What?”

Holzoff walked up to Fields. “See that?” He pointed to the sky. “That ain’t the sun.”

Fields scanned the sky, trying to look through the blizzard for the big fireball, and found it. From his view, it looked to be four times larger than the sun looked to be from the Planet. Meteor was back, but this time there was no Ancient to pray for Holy to come around, or any Holy Materia to pray with, or a week-long period between Meteor’s appearance and the utter annihilation of the Planet. Holzoff probably thought that the Planet was going to protect them, just like it did last time. Fields dropped his cigarette on the ground, crushed it underfoot, then turned to go back into the shack.

“It’s over.”

----

‘Rank...

‘Ra-aaank...

‘It’s time to get up, Mister Rank... You’ve got a world to save...

Rank snapped awake, dripping with sweat. That was Angel’s voice calling him. Had he fallen asleep on the boss’s couch again? Was Angel trying to wake him up?

...Is this a nightmare? Please let it be a nightmare...

His eyes fluttered open.

If it was a nightmare, then he had just woken up in the middle of the pitch-dark night, and in a very uncomfortable seated position. Why did the couch feel like a rock...

He tried to stand up when he felt the shackles. There was one around his waist, and two more around his wrists. His arms were raised up, giving him the distinctive notion of being half-crucified. He tried to feel the surface he was shackled to. It was a rock. A big rock that he had no chance of lifting. There was no sign of light or life in the immediate area.

He had only been awake for two minutes and already the situation was hopeless.

His eyes began to burn again. He fought his very hardest to force the insane thoughts of Angel’s death out of his head. But no matter how hard he fought, he could only fight for so long.

He tried to squelch the crying. The tears burned his eyes so much that he had no choice but to let them come, but he refused to cry out. He wouldn’t let himself cry out, and curse God for all that he had decided to do in one single damned week. He hadn’t done it when he was fired, or when he had faced imminent death, or when he was about to be tortured by those who he could describe as ‘demons from the deepest depths of blackest Hell,’ but he did it now. Angel had been slain before his very eyes, and if he had just brought his damn Clipper... This was the single worst day of his life.

He let his eyes tear, but he would not cry. He refused to do it.

“Who’s there?” A voice from his right snapped him out of his intense bout of self-regret, and he snuffed it all out with one big sniffle.

“...You tell me first.”

The voice paused, either considering, bemused, or annoyed at the preprogrammed answer. “This isn’t the best time to be demanding names, in case you haven’t noticed...”

A while passed before anyone said a word.

“...You the one that killed Sephiroth?”

“Who, that guy with the white...?”

“That’s him.”

“Yeah, I did. He deserved it.”

“You’ve got no idea...”

“What?”

“Yeah, he did... Did you hear that?”

Rank listened closer. There was someone breathing farther to his right, and having a hard time doing so. “Yeah, someone else.”

“Cid? You there?”

A new voice spoke up, very rough and scratchy. “Aw &%*^, yeah I’m here. That you Reeve?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Where are we?”

“I have no idea...”

Someone gave a sharp hiss to Rank’s left. “Be quiet.”

The two voices to his right called out.

“Vincent?”

“Vince?!”

“Be quiet and listen...”

The three did what they were told.

A sad melody began to rise from the darkness in front of them. It was something slow...

Some of the darkness in front of them disappeared, like someone had just drawn up a window shade, letting a faint light filter into wherever the four of them were. Even the slightest streams of light hurt their eyes...

About some fifteen feet in front of them were Rhade and Tifa. Rhade stood behind her, holding her by the waist and looking like he was whispering sweet nothings into her ear. She still had the same look in her eyes that she had at the Temple. Both of them rocked back and forth with the slow song floating through the air...

“What is he doing, dancing?” Rank looked to his right, and confirmed his earlier beliefs. Directly next to him was Reeve, and next to Reeve was Cid. They had been manacled to rocks. He looked to his left; there was Vincent, suffering in much the same way he was.

“Oh fer ^%&*’s sake, everything’s goin’ to hell and all he can do is $#%&in’ dance...” Cid gave a soft grunt. The sharp pain in his stomach popped up whenever he tried to speak. He probably didn’t have much longer to live.

“He likes Tifa alright...” Had the circumstances been different, Reeve would’ve been very bemused. He looked to Rank. “Well, since it looks like we’re gonna be here for awhile, I’m Michael Reeve, head of Shinra Incorporated. The man to your left is Vincent Valentine, and the man to my right is-”

Cid cut him off. “Cid Highwind, best damn pilot on the face of the Planet.”

“...Yep, that’s pretty much is. Who’re you, anyway?” Reeve smiled drolly, though there was nothing droll about it at all.

Rank remained quiet, waiting to think of a good response. “Rank Archer. I’m just some merc from nowhere.”

“Merc?”

“Mercenary.” Vincent interjected, letting his desire to stop his current train of thought get the better of him.

“A mercenary?” It struck Reeve. “You were hired to come get...?”

“The kid? Sorta. When I heard she was gone, I went off to find her, just like the rest of the boys.”

“Rest of the boys. Other mercenaries, right?”

“Yeah. She was a sweet kid, everyone knew her.” His stoicism training slowly began to kick in. ‘Not now, buddy boy. You wait ‘til all this crap is over, then you lock yourself into your room and cry your guts out.

“California, I know that’s not around here... You heard of Nibelheim?”

“Sounds German. Nope.”

“Rocket Town?” Cid grunted through the pain. Might as well try and help...

“That’s some park for little kids, if I remember right.” Cid grumbled in annoyance.

Reeve continued. “Midgar?”

“Nope.”

“Not local, are you?”

“You have no idea.”

“You know who Sephiroth is?”

“Other than that he’s the guy with the white hair I killed, nope.” Reeve attempted to say something, but Rank didn’t let up. “But, I’m guessing that there’s a lot more to this than what I saw?”

“...Yeah.”

“Alright, since we seem to have nothing else better to do for the time being, why don’t you tell me?”

“You’re a quick man, Mr. Archer. I’ll try and start from the beginning...” Reeve desperately needed to get his mind off what had just happened just five minutes ago, or he felt like he was going to vomit again...

----

It hurt. It just hurt so much. Everyone was gone...

Tifa... Oh Tifa, this is what I’ve been dreaming of...”

Except for Rhade. He was still there, holding her around the waist, letting his head hang right over her shoulder. He whispered sweet nothings...

We can be like this forever. Just you and me and the stars. We can go and fly with them now, go as fast as the light, we can see everything from up there...”

...which really meant nothing. To her, anyway. But, so did everything else, now. Everything was nothing...

I’ve been waiting forever. I’ve been waiting for you, and no one else. I was there whenever you cried, and I cried with you because I cared that much for you...”

...because now Cloud was gone. He was everything. And now he was dead. Stabbed and broken. It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair. Why’d he have to go? It hurt...

And you know what’s even better? I can keep you happy. I can do anything you ask, I can give you anything you want. Just ask for it, and it will be yours. Just ask...”

...too much.

She broke away from Rhade.

The music stopped. For a second, he stood there, looking confused. Then he disappeared into the darkness with a poof of smoke.

Tifa continued to go forward into the black looking down at where she was walking, until a counter appeared in front of her. Behind the counter was a fully-stocked bar rack. In front was three bar stools. It looked as if it had been ripped directly from Seventh Heaven. Rhade suddenly appeared behind the bar, cleaning a glass out with a towel, wearing a frilly white button-up shirt with cufflinks, a dark green vest embroidered with gold and scarlet, and black dress pants. His hair was slicked back, and he had a big satisfied grin on his face.

“Welcome to Tifa’s Heaven. How may I serve you tonight?” It was like a big joke, a parody on life. He didn’t even understand what was going on, but he still tried to keep up the charade...

She looked down at her seat, almost not sure if it was real, then slowly sat down. She kept staring down, as if there was something fascinating about her hands being on the table. “I want something hard.”

“Midgar Sunset, coming right up.” Poof. There it was. Right between her hands. She stared at it for a few seconds, not doubting it was real, just for a split second thinking about what she was doing. She then completely disregarded that split second, lifted the glass to her lips, and downed most of it in one gulp.

“Will that be all for the night?” He lowered his head, still wearing that dumb grin. Why didn’t he get it? She didn’t wonder how she had gotten to where she was now. It would hurt too much. She had to do something to forget quicker.

“Gimme the bottle.” Rhade’s smile did not falter. Anything for his Tifa. He handed over an open bottle after pausing for a few seconds. His smile didn’t falter, but what little common sense he had left did. That common sense was quickly squashed by one certain voice in his head...

Tifa stared at the bottle for a few seconds, once again pondering if she should think back to how she had gotten to where she was now. No, that’s why she was doing it. She wanted to forget. So she put her lips to the bottle, and took a long swig...

----

“...Well.”

“Messy, isn’t it?”

“Yep. Long and messy. Of all the places she has to land, it has to be here.”

“Didn’t know children could be so much trouble?”

“Not this friggin’ much.” Reeve and Rank were still talking amongst themselves. Cid had dozed off, and was quietly snoring to himself, as only a Highwind can. Why he had not died yet was fascinating... Vincent was watching all that was going on between Rhade and Tifa, trying to fight off fatigue.

It had been horribly intriguing at first, but then the bar counter appeared. Tifa then just began to drown herself in drinks she would’ve never touched unless she was just serving them. And Rhade kept on that stupid smile, not even thinking about how dire the situation was. How naïve...

Rank sighed. “Ah, this is one of those ‘wish I didn’t get up outta bed’ days.”

“This week’s been full of surprises...”

They both noticed Tifa raise herhead off the counter at the same time. Her face was sparkling...

“She’s gettin’ up...”

...was she...

“Hey, why is she...”

...crying?

----

“I want him back.” Her speech was slurred, but what she said was still understandable enough.

“Hm? Who’s ‘him’? Vince? Cid? They’re still here, I can bring them...” Rhade continued smiling, polishing a glass behind the bar counter.

“No, I want Cloud back...” She then threw the empty bottle over her shoulder.

“Who?” Rhade was beginning to shiver slightly, and his smile was starting to show slight madness...

“Cloud, you...” She fell off the stool, and struggled to get back to her feet.

Cloud...” He stopped smiling. The bar vanished without a trace. The barman’s attire went poof, replaced by his usual outfit; white shirt, black pants, black trenchcoat, black shoes. Tifa fell back to the ground as the stool she was leaning on for support disappeared. She began to cry. Her entire life had been ripped apart and gone to hell within a single day. And she had been so happy. She hated this. She hated everything. She hated the Planet, she hated Sephiroth, she hated all of the bad things that had caused her pain... But she refused to hate Cloud. Or Aeris. But she really was too busy tucking her head between her knees and wallowing in the miserable trash-heap that was her life to remember either of them at the time.

Rhade felt numb. The world span around him. Why didn’t she love him? Did he do something wrong...?

‘Cloud. She still wants Cloud...

Then he came back.

That’s right. Cloud. Or haven’t you figured it out yet? There’s a reason she loves him and not you, and that’s because you’re worthless. Pathetic. You can’t do anything right. Loser. You tried, and you failed. Miserably. Couldn’t happen to a better person. You’re going to remember this, you’re going to remember, and it’s going to eat you from the inside out, you hear me? I told you it would never work, I told you again and again, but did you listen? No. Because you’re and absolute dips&^*, that’s why.

The singular voice was the most excited it had been in years. He was finally going to seize control. Rhade was gonna tuck himself into a little ball, and hide in one of the deepest, darkest reaches of his own mind, where no one could find him. That would leave his body open to use. For now, he would settle for breaking down Rhade’s defenses...

Everyone but Tifa noticed the new presence in the blackness. Whoever it was, he looked just like Rhade; dressed in the same clothes, same face, same hair, but different eyes... Were those black eyes instead of blue?

He tried to keep his joy masked by rage. “You idiot! Ass! You’re not good enough for her, you never were! Didja think you could ever get her, hm? Nope, she likes Cloud better. And now look what you did!” He pointed to Tifa, sobbing on a floor that couldn’t be seen, choking on memories she didn’t want anymore. Rhade looked reluctantly; he was beginning to cry himself when the newcomer shoved him. “See that? You did that. You dragged her here, and you made her miserable. She doesn’t even like you!”

He shoved again.

“Y’know what? I’m really tired of you.”

And again.

“I’ve been trying to carry your ass around for years, but you never listened to a single goddamned word I said!”

He knocked Rhade down.

“Always had to have your way, do things according to you, you selfish little brat! But guess what?”

The cries of terror in Rhade’s head raised to screams of horrification as Jeremy the Wicked began to kick him in the ribs.

“Your time’s up. Over, done, time to make your exit. I coulda done this a lot earlier...

Kick.

“But...”

All he had to do was break Rhade, and then he could take complete control...

You...”

Kick.

“...refused...”

Rhade was crying like a quivering child.

“...to...”

Kick.

“...give...”

Kick, kick, kick...

“...up!!! Stubborn, pathetic little piece o’ s%$#, you are. I hate you. I loathe you. I wish you died at Nibelheim, that way I wouldn’t have to listen to your incessant whining about how her life sucks. Her life, her life!” He threw his arms in the air and glared down at Rhade. He kicked again, sending him five feet from where he had been lying before.

“You don’t even have enough guts to worry about your own life, how you can deal with the world? You waste of life. You sad piece of flesh. You’re nothing. I’m gonna take control, then I’m gonna bury you. But first, I’m gonna bury all of her friends in front of her face, and you’re gonna watch. I’m gonna dig graves, and then I’m gonna bury the guy with the gun, the ninja wannabe, the dog-beastie, the flower girl, and, last and most definitely not least, the man who took her away from you...”

Rhade stopped crying. He took his head out from between his knees. He looked at Jeremy. He had just gained something he had needed many years ago.

“Cloud.”

A realization.

Jeremy’s jaw dropped slightly. “No.”

He shook his head. “You wouldn’t. You said you wouldn’t do that, you lying sack of s%*#, no! Don’t do this to me, I’ve been doing this too hard for you to screw it up now...” He gave out one final scream of anguish before fading away, back into the blackness he had come from...

Cloud.

That was it. That’s what he had to do. He slowly stood up, ignoring the blood dripping from his mouth and nose.

He had to make everything go in reverse, then save his life.

But he’d have to bring back all the others that had survived, they had to know so they could do something about it...

He could do it. Just go back a few hours, then fix everything, it would be alright...

He shut his eyes, and thought. Thought through all the terrified screaming in his head, thought through the particularly enraged voice of one certain being, cursing him and damning him for all the wasted efforts of five years, thought through Tifa’s choking sobs...

And everything stopped like a film reel.

Rank Archer had seen this a few times before. It was dubbed a change-over, named after the end of a part of a movie and the beginning of another, where the reels were changed and the audience doesn’t realize what’s going on. Only, in this case, time was being stopped, and being thrown in one of three directions;

The first was fast forward.

The second was dead still.

The third was reverse....

----

...And reverse it was.

Tifa suddenly found herself standing on her feet. She opened her eyes. They were no longer blurred from tears. She was in the Forgotten Temple. The temple? She looked around. She was with Barret. And Yuffie. And Red. And Cloud.

They were alive. The world suddenly seemed right again. Maybe it had been a nightmare, or a daydream she never meant to have.

Cloud screamed, and rushed at Sephiroth, Buster Sword drawn.

Then everything else began to come back to her. Sephiroth fighting Cloud. Sephiroth stabbing Cloud. Sephiroth killing Cloud...

And it was about to happen again. And she was distracted by the goddamned gut piles.

Vincent and Reeve were fighting the bloody remains again. They were aware of what was going on, and they couldn’t waste their time with the remains again. Reeve began to move over to where Yuffie and Red were, ordering Cait Sith to follow. Vincent began to work faster, shoot straighter, dodge more. He was only able to remember the first few patterns the remains would move in, and avoiding those would throw the patterns off entirely...

Cid was fighting Aeris again. Aeris swung downward, and Cid back-stepped. She lashed forward, he sidestepped. She raised the chunk of crystal high up into the air to smash Cid’s head in, and he raised the Venus Gospel to block. Mistake? Not this time. Before she had the chance to go under Cid’s raised weapon, he smashed the Venus Gospel’s handle down on her head. He had to remember it wasn’t Aeris. He pulled back the Venus Gospel to skewer her, but she expected it. Her foot shot up, smashing him in the crotch and effectively stopping him in his tracks. She brought the staff of crystal under his armpit, turned around, and threw him above her head. He wouldn’t kiss the floor a second after he launched off the staff, as he would overshoot and go into the water instead.

Sephiroth blocked a strong overhead swipe, then lashed forward. Cloud sidestepped, and swung to behead Sephiroth. Sephiroth ducked, then lashed forward again. Cloud sidestepped, avoiding the strike. Sephiroth drew back, then slammed Cloud with the blunt side of the Masamune, sending him to the ground. A quick downward strike was all it would take...

...and a gunshot whizzed by his head. Not a bullet from some pitiful rifle; Vincent Valentine had taken out the Death Penalty, and was aiming for Sephiroth’s head.

With no time to spare, Sephiroth grabbed Cloud by the leg, hefted him up, and lobbed him at Vincent, effectively taking him and Barret, still paying attention to the rat remains, down for the moment.

That was it. He was going to end it now, or at least guarantee that it would end. He began to walk up the pedestals, making his way to the semi-unconscious Angel...

He looked up as he heard a savage guttural scream from the spiral staircase above him, and saw an auburn-haired man toss himself off the steps to tackle him down...

Rank smashed into Sephiroth from what had to be a good two stories up. Had the adrenaline not been running high, Sephiroth would’ve probably felt an intense pain in his ribs. The two rolled down the pedestals in a ball of arms and legs. The Masamune had dropped onto the altar, and was clattering down with them. When they rolled to a stop, Rank was straddling Sephiroth’s chest, looking fit to kill and angry enough to break the smile he had seen on Sephiroth’s face a few hours ago.

“Not,” Left hook to Sephiroth’s face.

“A,” Right hook to Sephiroth’s face.

“Chance,” Left to Sephiroth’s face.

“In,” Right to Sephiroth’s face.

HELL,” Left to face.

“Jack-” Right to face. It took three seconds to give six hooks to Sephiroth’s face, but Rank was not quite done yet.

ASS!” Rank pulled back, and unloaded what he thought was the biggest right hook of his life.

He got no satisfaction from the dazed look in Sephiroth’s eyes as he heard a staff of crystal produce a loud cracking sound across his face. Either the staff broke his face, or the staff broke over his face. Either way, he imagined it hurt like being hit in the head with a 9-iron from a golfer with a 350-yard drive, and it was strong enough to launch him off the white-haired fellow he was absolutely creaming, and onto an elevated platform not too far away.

His eyes refocused quickly, and he saw Aeris standing over him, holding the staff high above her head. She was going to stab him and kill him. Rank reached for the back of his pants, feeling something dig into his spine as he had made the wonderfully rough landing he had a few seconds earlier.

Aeris stopped dead in her tracks as Rank pulled out a gun, pushed himself up with his free arm, pointed it right under her chin, and smiled grimly.

“Not so fast, lady.”

Boom.

She fell backward, dropping the staff and plunging into the water.

He hadn’t forgotten his Clipper this time.

Sephiroth was already back on his feet, with Masamune in hand. He didn’t really feel like dealing with any of them anymore, and killing Cloud would have to wait until he could kill the girl and summon Meteor again. It was astonishing how humans could just pop up and try and ruin everything like that. Cloud and his group of friends had done it first, then the strange man in black who had killed him did it again shortly after, and then that angry fellow with the suicide dive. Where had he come from, anyway...?

He felt something nag suddenly in his mind. He sidestepped, and the Buster Sword lodged itself a few inches into where he had just been standing. Looks like Cloud wouldn’t wait to die. Sephiroth brought the Masamune back up, and tried to lop off Cloud’s head. Cloud ducked, and Sephiroth whirled behind him to bring the swipe through again in a second attempt.

He didn’t get the chance to bring it through. A choked, enraged scream greeted him as Tifa leapt on his back and tried to lock in a sleeper hold. Sephiroth didn’t give her the opportunity to lock it on fully, grabbed her by the arm around his neck with his free hand, and threw her over his head. She smashed into Cloud, who had just succeeded in removing the Buster Sword from the altar floor.

Sephiroth raised the Masamune up again. He could skewer them both in a single strike. His troubles might end right there. And so he brought it down, ready to kill them both...

...and was stopped inches from his goal. There stood that infernal man in black, with his double-edged sword up and halting the Masamune from its drive. He had just appeared from nowhere, not with a footstep nor a flight, he just appeared...

Sephiroth kicked Rhade in the stomach, pushing the both of them away from each other. Rhade took a large overhead swipe at Sephiroth, which was guarded with ease. This was familiar. If Sephiroth was right, then the man would... Rhade struck at the Masamune with two more overhead swipes, then tried for a forward stab. Sephiroth countered by knocking the blade aside, and then raising for a vertical swipe...

...which was another attempt at a kill foiled by someone interceding. The Conformer whizzed through the air, catching the tip of the Masamune before Sephiroth could bring his weapon down. Had the blow been to the hilt of the sword, it would’ve been shrugged of easily; this sent Sephiroth reeling forward. Rhade freed one hand, balled it into a fist, and punched Sephiroth square in the face. He stepped back, ignoring the pain. By this time Cloud and Tifa had gotten back up. Cloud approached. He and Rhade took over from there.

It was building up inside them, a quintessential rage that allowed them to survive for such a long time. They first took their time with their swings, alternately slashing at Sephiroth, working as one unit, progressively getting faster and faster, never allowing him to swing offensively, only defensively. Then they built up enough momentum where speed and sharp blades are all that mattered. The tactic looked similar to the Omnislash, but was that the idea? Was that what they were doing, or was it a product of a condition that can be only described as temporary insanity? Some watched on, enthralled with the speed and fury of each strike.

Sephiroth’s eyes were frenetic then, but now he guarded feverishly, skillfully parrying each blow that they gave, getting more frantic as their speed increased, and slowly trying to back away as far as he could. He found out that he could barely block them now, and if they picked up any more speed, he would lose. Somehow they backed him into the water, their blades occasionally skimming the surface and throwing up a splash of water in their wake. They eventually backed him into the darkness, where no one could see them but everyone knew what was going to happen next.

Rank ordered to no one in particular “Get Angel out of here.” Barret was already ahead of him, scooping up the semi-conscious Angel and running out of the city, with Rank closely following. Cid, Red, and Reeve also sensed what was next, and did not want to be present for it. They too ran up the staircase, with Cait Sith following close behind. Soon after they left, those remaining heard a scream of pain from the darkness, then the sound of metal tearing through flesh repeatedly, gaining speed, going faster and faster, then screams of rage accompanying it in a steady crescendo that could be put to a musical beat.

All that remained were Tifa, Vincent, and Yuffie. Vincent seemed to be staying out of sheer morbid curiosity. Tifa was looking out into the darkness, wondering how long it would take them to finish Sephiroth. Why was Yuffie still there? Maybe she was still mesmerized by the speed, but they were in the darkness now, the only illumination coming from them were the faint insignificant glow of Materia and the sparks produced by clashing metal. Whenever Cloud Omnislashed something living, she would always look away, clenching her eyes shut and putting her hands to her ears. She couldn’t see it, but she could hear it, and from the sickly look on her face, she couldn’t help but picture it in her mind.

The acrid taste of airborne iron played across their tongues and sinuses as a lazy flow of red in the water made it’s way towards the platform they were standing on. Tifa and Vincent stood there expectantly, Tifa more so than Vincent, and Yuffie looked as if she was going to be sick. Within a few seconds the painful screams stopped, and all that could be heard were the rageful screams and the slicing of flesh. Their wrath didn’t escape them; they desecrated his body because he killed or tried to kill the ones, or one in Rhade’s case, they loved.

It soon stopped, and there was nothing but silence. Everyone was waiting to see exactly what Cloud and Rhade had done to their most hated enemy. Within time and with silence, the two of them trudged up to the platform, carrying long locks of white-silver hair that was for the time crimson. Rhade carried the Masamune under the arm that held his own sword. Both were covered in blood that was not their own. What the hair was for no one’s sure; either as a reminder for the one who played such an integral part in their lives or as a trophy to remind themselves that they both killed him twice. At this macabre sight, Yuffie decided to keel over, and empty the contents of her stomach out onto the ground. Vincent helped her back up, only to be rewarded by her unloading on his boots. He guessed they would need a good polish afterwards. He helped her out of the Temple, supporting, no, carrying her as she tried to walk.

All that was left was Tifa. She stood there, hands clasped together at her neck. Cloud and Rhade lifted themselves out of the water, bringing themselves up to the platform she stood on. They took a few steps closer, standing with a slouch, breathing heavily and tired from all the fighting they had done. Their minds were tattered as well, but it was not so obvious. There the three of them stood, one expecting something from another, one not sure what to do now, and another not quite sure if she should do what she thought she should do.

Tifa took a few steps forward, unclasped her hands, and threw her arms around Cloud’s neck. She began to quietly weep into his shoulder as she tried to say something. She eventually managed to choke it out. It was a three-word sentence. Cloud’s eyes widened as he heard it. He dropped the hair, and the Buster Sword, and hugged back tightly. He began to cry.

Rhade looked away for a second, then looked back. She didn’t love him. She loved Cloud. But she was happy. She was really happy. His gaze wandered absently, looking mostly to the floor. He began to trudge up the steps of the Forgotten City. The voices in his head were quiet. Tifa didn’t love him.

Oh well. His loss.

----

“Got a light? I think I’m outta matches.” Cid searched a few pockets for anything he could use to light his cigarette.

“I’ve still got enough energy for a little Fire.” Red stepped forward, and sat on his haunches. Cid held the cigarette he had out away from his face. Red gazed at it for a few seconds, and the end ignited. Cid stuck it in between his lips and took a puff.

“You got a spare?” Rank looked up from the rock he was sitting on. “I quit, but some days do have their exceptions.”

Cid grabbed another cigarette from a jacket pocket. “Good thing these things aren’t soaked.” The pack held by his flight goggles were useless. He held it to his lit cigarette, lighting it, and handed it to Rank.

“Thanks man. These things’ll kill you, y’know.” Rank snickered. All of them sat outside of the Forgotten Temple, except for Rhade, Cloud, and Tifa. Angel was very slowly waking up, and Yuffie was still wretchedly sick.

“I ain’t %$#^in’ dead yet. I consider that a blessing from whoever’s out there.” Cid, thankfully, realized he was being sarcastic.

“Amen...” There was silence after Rank spoke that last word. He picked it up again. “Whatta crappy day this has been. Too many people died. Friggin’ time hiccups mess with my head...”

Barret was thinking to himself, and didn’t quite hear it; a good thing, considering he, along with Red and Yuffie, wouldn’t quite know what he meant. He broke his train of thought. “Who are ya, anyway?”

“Rank Archer, pro mercenary.” He temporarily removed the cig from his mouth. “Quite frankly, I don’t belong here. She don’t, either.” He jerked his head in Angel’s direction.

“We understand that...” Red cocked his head to the left a little. “What did you mean ‘time hiccup’?”

“Take too long to explain. I don’t really wanna stay here too long.” Rank took another puff.

“You’re going to leave already?”

“Yep. Sorry, but I’ve got things to do.” He hung his head for a few seconds, then looked to Cid again. “Have you seen a gray-haired guy around, good fighter, got a shotgun, wears a business suit everywhere he goes?”

Cid shook his head. “Nope, haven’t seen anyone like ‘im.”

“Key-rap.” He threw the cig down, stood up, and stomped it underfoot. “That’s gonna make my life a bit more difficult, innit?”

“We wouldn’t know.” Red gave his ear a good scratch. Reeve gave Yuffie a few pats on the back to help her retch again.

“It took me long enough to find Angel, so it’s probably gonna be that way.” He went to where Angel was lying, and picked her up. “I’m gonna go on my way. Thanks for you time, and thanks for takin’ care of Angel here.”

“We’ll tell Tifa that.” Reeve extended a hand. After some finagling, Rank got one hand free, and shook his hand. Barret and Cid did the same, giving him brisk handshakes before he left.

“Hey, when she wakes up...” Barret scratched the back of his neck. “...couldja tell her Marlene said good-bye? I’d appreciate it.”

“Marlene? Alright, I’ll be on my way...” He turned and began to walk away, but after a few steps stopped. He paused for a second or two, and thought about something. He turned around, and looked to the six of them. “I just helped save the world, didn’t I?”

Vincent nodded. “That’s correct.”

Rank smiled slightly. “Cool.” He turned around again, skipped once, and briskly walked to the corridor of debris leading away from the giant shell that was the entrance of the Forgotten Temple.

----

Waves crashed into the cliffs below. They weren’t relatively high cliffs; there were many higher ones, more dangerous than that one, with the potential to make much more noise. If one stood right next to the edge, the crashes would sound their loudest, unless the waves intensified or one actually scaled down the cliffs to get closer.

Kalm was too far away for the waves to be audible, but Greyson could still hear them crashing in his head. It was hard not to. It had been all he had heard directly after the Highwind flew over his head, and all he had heard the while he had waited there. He had sworn he had seen something from the sky fall towards wherever the airship was heading, but he wasn’t sure what it was. It had begun to get dark, so those aboard the Highwind might be coming back soon. He had gone back to Sanctuary, and inquired those left there when they might be back, under the guise of being a customer. The younger woman, Shera, had told him it ought to be soon. He guessed that they’d either be back soon, or they’d be dead.

So he waited for the Highwind to come back, to see if they had Angel with him. He stood outside Sanctuary, leaning against one of the walls and gazing in the direction of the Northern Continent. He had been doing that for awhile, just looking. The only recent activity there had been the helicopter, which had taken off after the pilot saw Reeve leave in the Highwind. There was also the occasional Sanctuary patron, but they didn’t amount to much that could be considered ‘activity.’

He saw the object that had fallen there earlier. It hadn’t been some shooting ‘star’ or comet like he had suspect, and it most certainly wasn’t the Highwind. It went upward for several dozen meters, then... Thanks to the darkness, he saw a small blip of blue light open up in front of it before it disappeared into nothingness.

Greyson grimaced. That had been another R.T.A. That means they had found Angel.

He checked his right pants-leg cuff, and felt around a second. Eventually, he felt the bits of a device that had been a locator. It must’ve been broken somewhere, either during his landing, or the fight with those large green quadrupeds. He was stuck here for now.

He sat down, cross-legged on the grass, waiting. Within a half-hour, a few more people joined him, patiently waiting for the Sanctuary to open. Within fifteen more minutes, the Highwind could be seen coming from a distance. After landing, all exited it, giving a farewell to the three staying at Kalm for the time being; Cloud, Tifa, and Barret. Rhade was not among them; he had left on his own terms. He’d need time to cope. Shera joined Cid and the rest, boarding the Highwind before it took off and flew in another direction.

Barret and Tifa calmly told Elmyra that Aeris wouldn’t be coming back. Poor old woman. Barret took her and Marlene home. He had to carry both of them.

Tifa opened up Sanctuary for the first time in a couple of days. Patrons happily swarmed in, ready to get buzzed.

Greyson sighed, slung his shotgun over his shoulder, and followed them in. For now, it appeared like he would have nothing else better to do. On the way back to Kalm, there had been a few monsters to slay. Thye somehow had some of the local currency on them. He would spend it here, instead of bringing it back home, and putting it in one of the R.T.A.’s several collection vaults.

He couldn’t go back home right now.

Oh well. His loss.

----

Rank Archer slammed down yet another empty glass. “Bartender, give me another.” He was in his employers’ private bar and grill. It was hidden somewhere in their headquarters, though if one searched enough, they could find it. It resembled any other well-lit, kept-up, and lavish bar. It had a few pool tables around, wooden counters, wonderful carpeting, a jukebox, some neon lighting decorations here and there, and two bathrooms off in a corner. Rank had been given permission to stop searching for Greyson by his ordinates hours ago. He had found Angel, therefore he earned it. A few others had been given permission to stop too, after being to few not-so hospitable worlds. Worlds with automated defense systems that would shoot down any unidentified ships flying about. They had made it out by the skins of their teeth. Oh well. Greyson had been sucked into rifts before. He usually turned up in their dimension sooner or later. No one knew how he did it, but it usually happened.

The bartender did not resemble one; it was a streamlined construct designed mostly for serving drinks and cooking, though it was intelligent as any other human. “Are you sure, sir?”

“Very. I wanna get smashed today. It’s been a crappy day.”

“As you wish.” The semi-automated tender shrugged, and mixed him another drink. “Why has this day been classified as ‘crappy’ anyway, Mr. Archer?”

Rank took a large swig. “‘Cause I helped save a world. But it really sucked gettin’ there.” He took a look at his watch. “Say, doesn’t Sectier usually come around here at this time?”

“Your fellow coworker should be here within fifteen minutes.”

“Good. I’d like to tell him about this much more than I’d like to tell you...” Rank took another swig. Such a night. He’d be there for hours. Thank whichever God was out there for whiskey. He wanted to forget about the night...

It would come eventually. It always did. Of course, it would hurt like hell tomorrow...

***

Dateline: Saturday, May 12, 2001-Monday, February 18, 2002
‘For the Planet’s Sake,’ by Ren.
Holy crapola. I’ve been working at this thing for almost a year? Wow.

Thought this was gonna be the generic Aeris-resurrection fanfic, didn’t you?

...This ‘fic can be classified as having too much stuff going on at the same time at too fast a pace, with all the nightmares, and Jenova-based resurrections, and deaths, and ripping of the very fabric of the FFVII spacetime continuum... But is all that stuff well-written stuff? Comments, critiques, questions, anything? If you have any, e-mail me at Tipe97@aol.com. Please, I need an ego boost. (No mail links for you. Open the window yourself.)

And now...
THE R. ENFORCER’S REAL BIG DISCLAIMER:
(be impressed by its sheer size over normal disclaimers...)

The characters ‘Cloud Strife,’ ‘Tifa Lockheart,’ ‘Barret Wallace,’ ‘Marlene Wallace,’ ‘Red XIII’ (a.k.a. ‘Nanaki’), ‘Aeris Gainsborough,’ ‘Elmyra Gainsborough,’ ‘Cait Sith,’ ‘(insert real first name here, if applicable) Reeve (insert real last name here, if applicable),’ ‘Cid Highwind,’ ‘Shera Whatever-Her-Last-Name-Is,’ ‘Vincent Valentine,’ ‘Yuffie Kisaragi,’ ‘Godo Kisaragi,’ ‘Sephiroth,’ ‘Jenova,’ ‘Reno,’ ‘Rude,’ ‘Elena,’ ‘The Blacksmith,’ ‘Mr. Holzoff,’ ‘Choco Bill,’ and ‘a Few Nameless Chocobos’ are all property of Squaresoft Inc., and were not portrayed in any way in order to gain a profit.

The locations ‘Nibelheim,’ ‘Midgar,’ ‘Kalm’, ‘Corel,’ ‘Wutai,’ ‘Gold Saucer,’ ‘Icicle Area,’ ‘Gaea’s Peak,’ ‘the Northern Crater,’ and ‘The Forgotten Capital’ are also property of Squaresoft Inc., and were once again not portrayed in a manner in order to gain a profit.

And, finally, the game ‘Final Fantasy VII’ is property of anyone who buys it. But its rights are owned by (bum-bum-BUMMM) Squaresoft Inc., and should never be re-sold or reverse-engineered in any way (but the story’s always open for reverse-engineering and interpretation...)

Don’t even get me started on all the items, weapons, and materia mentioned...

But, as we know, that big-ass ‘Meteor’ ain’t no one’s property, as it’s made several cameos in many movies, among them ‘Armageddon,’ and ‘Deep Impact,’ (comet, comet, I know...), in most of which it has been blasted out of the sky brutally with nuclear weapons and whatnot. Let us pay our respects to the multi-talented Meteor. May its slaughtered rocky core rest in peace. (Peace, pieces, whichever, just as long as the thing don’t try to blast us no more...)

On the other hand, the characters ‘Greyson Black,’ ‘Angel McCoy,’ ‘Gyro’ (he being the ingenious lab technician mentioned much, much earlier), ‘Rank Archer,’ ‘Rhade,’ ‘Jeremy,’ and ‘Other Assorted Voices in Rhade’s Head’ are property of the R. Enforcer, and will NOT be used without permission, for, yea, I shall get verily annoyed if thou portrayest my characters in the incorrect light, especially if thou dost have a diminutive intellect and hast not earned a place in any Authors Directory of any verily impressive site...

Sorry [author named removed; you oughta know who you are], just had to throw that in...

And I would honestly prefer if you asked me for permission to use the Turks ‘Robert A. Fields,’ ‘Edward Grody,’ ‘Erisa J. Tucker,’ ‘Gwen Dulacross,’ and ‘Adam Payne,’ for whatever reason you have. Though I suppose I’m starting to get a little retentive about this copyright stuff...

But, damn, can I make a disclaimer or what?

Quasi-Random Tidbits:

Some of the ways I wrote the dialogue does it no justice when compared to how it would sound. You try interjecting random sniffles, sobs, gasps, and muttered expletives from other people. It isn’t too easy. Oh, what I’d do with copyright contracts, a generous budget, and the right friggin’ actors...*

Michael Reeve is just assumed, and probably isn’t Reeve’s full name, but it’ll do here.

Foxton, California is just a fictitious city where a whole bunch of characters live. The backstory gets pretty complicated.

For those of you who’ve played Ogre Battle 64, the character of Rhade did not in any way inspire this Rhade. I just thought it was an appropriate name for this guy. Don’t know why, but it just seemed to be the right name.

And the little omnipotence thing? I think that the concept of a character who watches over everything while seldom acting upon what he or she views is very cool. I was pleased by what Rhade was, at first, then I threw in the whole ‘slowly going batty’ element. That with the whole ‘ultimate voyeur’ thing... I was... surprised...

Kudos to my bespectacled bud, Matt (a.k.a. Fox), for recognizing the fact that the sentence ‘The sky is blue,’ followed by ‘The sky is still blue,’ is actually pretty damn funny.

If any of you ask me to write a fanfic based solely on the five original Turks I came with, I will remind myself to send you a very pleasant ‘thank-you bomb’... (Just covering all my bases. Somebody out there might actually like these guys.)

And, the ‘R.’ in R. Enforcer doesn’t stand for ‘Rhade,’ for that would be a shameless plug. It actually stands for ‘Robo,’ another shameless plug dedicated to my large group of characters, the R. Force. They’re my property too. Back, I say...

There are several other questions I could answer right here, but I don’t know which ones to put.

Input would be greatly appreciated.

...Off in the background some kid with glasses pokes his head through the doorway and tries to get in the picture...

Random thoughts (kudos if you decided this was not the random insertion of line breaks that some authors put at the end of their ‘fics):

What did inspire the Rhade character was extended listening to ‘Hemorrhage (In My Hands)’ by Fuel, ‘Kryptonite’ by Three Doors Down, and Pearl Jam’s ‘Jeremy’ (yes, you caught me, that’s why that’s his real name...). For the first one, the lyrics didn’t really inspire me, but I did come up with a nice video (with a Jeremy-look-alike playing the... never mind, you wouldn’t get it unless I wrote the entire thing down) for it. Too bad I don’t have that much money... Haven’t listened to the second one either? It centers around a psychotic little kid who was ignored by his parents, and got picked on by indifferent classmates who thought of him as a ‘harmless little $&*#.’ (For those of you who’ve seen the video, Jeremy doesn’t kill his classmates at the end in order to obtain revenge for picking on him, he splatters his brains all over his classmates at the end in order to spite them for picking on him, big difference. King Jeremy the Wicked, indeed... But you’ll see no suicides from me! At least not successful ones...) I listened to it, and couldn’t help but envision a kid with black hair just silently rocking back and forth. Couldn’t decide whether his eyes were black or blue, though. Hence why Rhade’s a little... off.

Cloud’s Aeris nightmare sequence was inspired by a picture of Aeris in Crimson Elf’s Cathedral, the picture being entitled, ‘Mystic Aeris.’ However, I still prefer calling it, ‘The Flower Girl,’ for the term ‘Mystic’ sounds too optimistic, when the picture, in reality, is very, very dark (in my opinion, anyways; it’s the symbolism thing), if not nightmarish for those weak-of-heart (such as those who broke down in convulsive crying and locked themselves in their rooms for a week after watching Aeris die; just because I stated the picture might be nightmarish for some does not mean that I am a wimp). As for the Jenova nightmare... Well, I don’t know exactly where that came from. Let’s just say the deep bowels of my mind, shall we?

Contrary to what you people probably want, I am writing other FFVII fics after this. The next is called All Too Real. In it, I’m gonna show off my ability to make myself look like a total sadist. And it’ll also slightly resolve whatever happened to Greyson after Rank and Angel inconsiderately left without him. After that, well... they’re not necessarily set in stone, but I’ve got one called The Replacements: And He Said This Would Be Easy... (And Now, a Lighter Note), and another interesting, angsty one called Three From Nibelheim. You’re gonna have to wait to see what they’re about, but they should be fairly intriguing, considering I’ve nearly been breathing and sleeping nightmare sequences and comical situations for the past several months.

The * in the Quasi-Random Tidbits: I can see it now, the FFVII Movie Casting Call. Finding someone like Palmer (Who in their self-respecting adult mind would dance around singing ‘Tra la la’ while being observed by millions on wide screen?!) or Tifa (Can perform aerobics and martial arts, is willing to put on ridiculously skimpy clothes, and is well-endowed, naturally or not?) or Cloud (...the hair thing) would be real hard...

The C. Force  © 1996-2001 Matt Laskowski   ---   The R. Force © 1995-2001 ‘Ren’