Hero of the Day

[SilverKnight]

--Ah, what the hell? Since it's a fresh start and all, I'll just repost the story from the beginning. >ignores the groans< I'll repost one installment every couple of days or so, as to not rush everything. (And to give me plenty of time to get cracking with the next part. >grins<) I hope I'm not boring anybody, but I might as well put the rest of it up. My ego can't take being out of the spotlight for long. :D >winks<--

Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, yeah… I don't own Final Fantasy 7, or else I would've put a better ending with it. >smiles< So, um, don't sue. Oh, and I don't own Metallica either, but I thought it'd be a better title than "Pradeciatio Vomica". >shrugs< Ah well...

Hero of the Day

***

“They’re off to find the hero of the day…
…but what if they should fall by someone’s wicked way?”

--Metallica, “Hero of the Day”

***

Part I

***

They clashed, Lifestream and Holy battling against Meteor’s dark intent. A sea of green flooded the area, growing in brightness and intensity until it was blinding. It was breath-taking; unreal in its beauty. The light died down as quickly as it arrived, leaving a darkness none had seen since the appearance of Meteor. To the warriors, clinging to various protruding objects inside the battered remains of the soaring Highwind, the darkness brought mixed feelings.

The ninja never really enjoyed flight in the first place, and this last installment, while she realized it was the only way to live, made her stomach do a series of backflips. Grasping blindly at a wall for support, she stared out of the main window. She grinned when she saw the black skyline. “We did it!” she exclaimed happily.

The ship veered in a sharp U-turn, heading quickly back towards Midgar, which they had flown away from minutes before. Everyone remained eerily silent, all gazing out of the pane. The ebon haired Wutanian knitted her brows, frowning at everybody’s speechlessness. Staggering forward, she was forced to use a slightly dazed Cid Highwind as her anchor, to keep from falling flat on her face. Much to her surprise, although little surprised her now, the brusque pilot said nothing. He merely held out his arm slightly to steady her before turning his attention back to the oddly blank scene.

She joined them; half wondering what they were looking at, half wondering what they were thinking. She wasn’t so full of herself to think she knew everything…at least, not anymore. But, she questioned, what they were seeing that she *wasn’t*. They *won*. What else was there? Yuffie sighed. “I don’t get it,” she muttered, gaining the attention of the man next to her.

“Get what?” he answered quietly, barely more than a hoarse rumble.

She motioned her head around the cockpit. Although she wanted to, she didn’t raise her voice above a whisper. Yuffie figured she didn’t want to see what would happen if she disturbed their thoughts. “What’s the deal with everybody?”

He shrugged slightly, frowning. “Guess they’re in a retrospective mood.”

She quirked an eyebrow in sardonic amusement. “Big word for you.”

“I’m foul-mouthed, not stupid,” he replied, annoyed.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

He smirked weakly. “Big word for you.”

She sneered, staring out into the window for another moment before piping up again. “Still haven’t answered my question.” The figure remained silent, gazing out into the oblivion oddly; he looked almost pained by seeing the meteor was gone from the sky. He seemed *sad* that the sky wasn’t tinted a sickly red, that bane of life spiraling in the air without a care in the world. “And what’s with the long face? We *won*!”

Yuffie, when she witnessed his muscles tightening, realized that what she said must have tweaked his temper. Cid whirled his head around, glaring down to the teenager. “Grow the hell up, brat! Life ain’t like that!”

She took a step away, her eyes wide. If he had uttered that at any other moment in time, she would have either argued or become verbally abusive. In fact, she probably would’ve done both. But at that point, she was too tired to care. “What the hell are you talking about, old man?”

He continued to glower at her angrily, opening his mouth to prepare a flurry of expletives to flow. However, nothing came out. Chuckling bitterly, he shook his head, looking out the window. “Y’know, I almost envy you.”

She blinked. This was strange territory she was entering into, and she wasn’t entirely sure if she wanted to cross the threshold or not. “Why?”

Sighing, he patted his dust-covered jacket for a pack of cigarettes, dropping the remains of the one he had smoked beneath his heel. “Yer youth, kid.” Finally finding one half-smoked in one of his inner pockets, he fished it out, placing it between his lips. “Hmph. ‘Youth; wasted on the young.’” He searched again for a lighter, to no avail. “Aw, dammit.” Growling, he ripped the tube from his mouth, placing it back where he had found it.

Her eyes instinctively narrowed. “My *youth*? What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

He nodded, chewing on his lower lip, for the lack of anything else to chew upon. “Yeah. ‘Cause you’re young. Ya don’t know how the world works yet.” She crossed her arms over her chest, his words pricking at her ire in much the same way a child would flick someone’s ear. Before she could protest his statement, though, he continued. “Look, kid, as much as ya might like to *think* ya do, ya don’t, trust me. I was in yer place once, and I thought the same damn thing. But when I got older…” He snorted to himself. “Never thought I’d live to see the day when I heard myself say that. God, I’m gettin’ old.”

She bit back a sigh of annoyance. “You *still* haven’t answered my question.”

The pilot stared at her for a moment blankly, before returning his cerulean eyes to the velvety darkness outside the remains of his beloved Highwind. Yuffie took the area in, mentally kicking herself. She may not have exactly *liked* the guy, foul-mouthed blow-hard that we was, but this was his pride and joy that had been almost completely demolished by Holy’s awesome power. It was his sweat and blood that went into this ship; the only remaining piece being the main body of it, wings unfurled along the latter edges, propelled by a jet engine in the back. It was his ship that had been reduced to a small escape craft. And here she was, barraging him with questions as to why he was feeling a little down.

The blond sighed, leaning his weight into his hands, which were perched on the top of the controls. “Ya wanna know what I’m talkin’ about?” She nodded, remaining silent. His eyes flickered out to the blackness before resting on her youthfully curious face. “Not everybody won, kid.”

She furrowed her brows. “What do you mean? I don’t get it.”

He smirked sadly, his eyes languidly traveling back outside to the fast approaching city. “Think about it for a sec. Midgar’s the biggest city on the face of the goddamn planet. And that’s exactly where Meteor, Holy and the Lifestream all went. Now, what’re the odds that the city’s still intact after all that?”

Slowly, as Cid explained, the ninja’s eyes widened, the true horror of what he was saying sinking in. That city had millions upon millions of people. It was strong and powerful enough to fight and win against her people. All of that, wiped out…? “But…Reeve just said a few minutes ago that he had everybody take refuge in the slums. There has to be *someone* alive.”

“I hope, kid, I hope,” he answered tiredly, sighing. “But, chances are, the entire city’s now a wasteland,” he finished, edged with a certain finality that she found very disconcerting. Out of the corner of her enlarged eyes, she saw some of the others tense, and some outright shudder.

Their movements were not lost upon the older pilot, who quickly fell silent, content with staring out into oblivion. For a moment, she was angry. So what if it was a wasteland?! They all would’ve died anyway if it weren’t for them! They made the world safe! Yuffie instantly took that thought back. That was purely naïve. She of all people knew the world was never a safe place. Maybe that’s what was picking at their brains; the thought that even though they saved the world, it would still be prey to such horrors and terrors as it was before, and that would never change. She frowned deeply, a dejected sense of hopelessness beginning to swirl in her now settled stomach.

Moments passed in electrifying silence, before the pilot’s tall frame straightened, inhaling deeply. Her eyes dropped to the metallic floors, feeling sick and guilty for not being able to do more. She was never one for chivalry. In fact, most of the time she could have cared less how others were suffering. Still, she felt hurt that somehow, despite all their work, everything still came out the same. The world was saved, but only to live in the way it had always been before; blind to its bruises and deaf to its cries for help. It was only when she felt his heavy hand fall upon her thin shoulder that she finally looked up to see his chiseled lips tugged up into a ghost of a grim smile. “Welcome to the real world.”

She harrumphed as he looked away, back to the helm. Gazing up, she watched him take manual control of the craft, lowering the module as cleanly as possible. “Shit,” Highwind muttered heatedly.

Finally, their leader, Cloud turned. “What?”

Yuffie felt the steel begin to vibrate through the soles of her shoes. Cid, no doubt, had noticed the shaking long before she ever had. “Systems ain’t responding,” he hissed, his hands whisking quickly about the helm as the shaking of the hull only became more pronounced. “And the landing gears’ve been shot to hell.” Cracked pipes hissed steam in defiance, a background thrum to the screaming of the metal beneath her feet. The sounds, utterly gruesome, did not dissipate as she barely made out a wall of charred dirt approaching ever closer. “Shit!” Cid roared, jerking the wheel violently to the right, sending the airship veering off sharply.

Yuffie was sent flying, and it was a testament to her years of training in martial arts that she was able to land on the unforgiving steel paneling without breaking anything. Still, she hit the floor hard, yelping in pain at the stabbing sensation in her hip. The largest man of their troupe, Barret, landed in a heap next to her, the heavy metal gun grafted onto his right arm slamming scant inches in front of her face with a thundering clang.

Warning sirens were now blaring as the two of them struggled to their feet, Yuffie clutching the first thing bolted to the hull. “Hold on everybody!” Cid shouted, desperately battling with the helm.

“Thanks for the warning!” Yuffie barked harshly over the sirens, clinging to a small hand-hold for dear life as she was flailed about like a rag doll. However, the ninja doubted he even heard her, either due to the inhuman noises or his concentration set solely upon trying to survive. Frankly, she didn’t care. If she walked out of this at all, she’d be content.

She kept the handle in a deathgrip as her entire body flew off the floor, lurching upwards. Gritting her teeth in pain, she felt spears of fire engulf her entire shoulder, a sickening pop reaching her ears at the same moment. Through slit eyes, she witnessed various members of the Highwind crew haplessly soaring upwards towards the back of the bridge at break-neck speeds. Their shrieks of fear were only adding to the barrage of sounds that pelted her ears.

Time seemed to visibly slow as the doomed ship plummeted ever closer to the ground. Her eyes locked upon the dark-skinned man that landed next to her moments before. His one good arm was clawing madly at anything he could grab, his fingernails scraping helplessly against the smooth steel. Slowly, inexorably, he continued to slide backwards, his own raven eyes widening in ever-growing shock. Not fear; no, Yuffie had learned early on that Barret feared nothing for himself. He feared only for his young daughter, Marlene, who was sitting at a strange home with a nice old woman, but was still not her father. Yuffie herself never truly understood how it felt to fear for someone else’s life, considering she had always been more concerned with looking out only for her own interests.

She abruptly decided to change that.

Taking out her weapon of choice, the Conformer, she hefted it in her hand. It was a truly fearsome looking weapon, one that was made especially for her hands alone. The large five-pointed, crimson tipped shuriken was held together by a band of gold below the sharp points, making it more aerodynamic and accurate. She was counting on that accuracy as she hurled it as hard as she could towards Barret’s skidding form. The razor sharp points dug into the steel with little effort, tearing down until only one small section of the weapon was sticking up from the metal. Gratefully, the rebel reached for it, his fingers gripping the object tightly, despite the fact it was slicing through his leather glove and calloused skin.

Time reasserted itself when a coarse, tobacco-thick voice boomed, “*SHIT*! Brace for impact!” Before her mind could even fully register what he’d screamed, the skin-crawling sound of steel grinding and buckling against stone and dirt filled her ears. The red emergency lights that provided the illumination went out in a shower of sparks, shimmering about her in a chaotic ballet of flame and metal whisking in the otherwise dark compartment. Her already mangled shoulder cracked loudly as her backside slammed against a bulkhead. She growled in pain, the tendrils of white-hot flame saturating her left arm only redoubling her efforts to hold on.

Several shouts and screams exploded all around her as she felt the quake of the landing through her entire body. Her legs swung forward against her will, her torso following suit. Yuffie still felt her grip on the iron rung as she continued into the air, careening farther into the darkness. For a moment, a light flashed, illuminating a steel vent that was directly in her path of the mass of crushed steel below hurtling towards her. The light disappeared as quickly as it came, and she was enveloped in darkness.

--There ya go!--

[Wilfredo Martinez]

Oh YEAH! Bring it back, Silver!!

As you know, I think your story was the BEST of the non-group stories ever posted here. So yeah, post it ALL again, so everyone can see for themselves!

Plus, doing so might give you NEW ideas to add!

Still your #1 Fan,
Wilfredo

[Heaven's Soldier]

Yeah bring it back, it was cool. Also keeping going I really liked this story.

For it truly does follow the character's personalities/attitudes from the game closely, which is something very few fanfics manage:D :D

[Chris-chris]

YES! A GOOD FIC OF FF7 THAT I HAVEN"T READ IN A WHILE! I love it! must read more....:)

[Frameskip]

You should just repost all of it at once. Well it's great and stuff, good thing you had a backup.

[SilverKnight]

--Aww, Wil, that's so sweet! >ruffles his hair< Er...I'm not sure if that came out as a compliment, but I intended it to be! :D And, as far as the backing up goes, oh, God, yes, I back this story up. I have it backed in about three different places. On my hard drive, on FF.net (pfft, yeah) and on another forum I go to. So, okay, it's not exactly "backed up" per ce, but at least if something goes down, I can have it somewhere else. If not, I'd die. >twitch< :D Anywho...--

Everything hurt like hell.

No, she amended that thought. Hell would have been vastly less painful than the sensory information that was bombarding her brain at that moment. Her limbs screamed and sobbed their protest to the beating they took. She attempted to open her eyes, but found it to be too much work. Yuffie honestly didn’t want to do anything but just sit and rest in wherever she was for a little while.

Her resting spot, however, begged to differ. Her position was uncomfortable to say the least, her body twisted beneath two large pieces of bulkhead. As much as she wanted to, she realized that her fatigue was most likely due to blood loss or shock. Which meant she would die if she did nothing, and after all the ninja had gone through, she’d be damned if she was going to die like that. She smirked ruefully to herself. She’d probably be damned either way, but that was beside the point. It seemed so very anti-climactic, especially to a sixteen year old who was all for the adventure and the thrill of potential death.

She hazarded to take a deep breath. When she didn’t cough up blood or any other vital fluid, she was slightly pleased. The next step was to see if she could move. The ebon haired shinobi shifted her body, shoving a piece of steel off her chest, only swearing a few times in the process. Her left arm was throbbing, but her shoulder was oddly numb. She wasn’t sure, but she had a feeling that wasn’t a good thing, for obvious reasons. However, a dose of full cure materia would have patched that right up.

Yuffie brought her other hand over her face, wiping away grime and soot, before running her fingers through her short locks of matted down hair. After blinking, she opened her dark eyes, scanning the area for anything. She was still inside the main section of the Highwind, or what was left of it. From what she could gather, the ship had veered off to the right, most of the front and port section of the ship being crushed like a can under the intense speed at which they hit the ground. She craned her neck above, staring out into what bits of night sky she could make out. The starboard side of the hall, while more intact, had been blown out in several areas; most likely from the explosions.

Maneuvering around, Yuffie brought herself to her knees, gazing around the mangled remains of Cid Highwind’s beloved ship. The parts of the windows on the bow that weren’t crushed from impact were gone, the glass shattered into a million shards. It provided a simple enough way to get out, but she wasn’t about to leave her friends. Especially since they had all the curative materia.

Several moans reached her ears, along with scraping of metal on metal. Glaring into the darkness, almost a complete entity in itself, Barret emerged, rubbing his bloodied hand on his head to shake it clear. Yuffie stood shakily, her hip aflame. She limped her way over to him, careful not to fall, and not to step on anyone that may be under the shrapnel. Holding out her hand, Barret grasped it, pulling himself fully out of the wreckage, quickly getting to his feet.

He towered over the petite teenager ninja, a muscular man of 6’4”, with all the tattoos and scars to prove he earned his robust figure. But, lately, she learned he was also a loving father who would have gladly died if it meant helping his daughter live a better life. Such people were hard to find in the world nowadays. But the group he surrounded himself with proved they still existed, even if in small numbers. “You okay?” she whispered, looking around.

He nodded curtly. “I’ll live. How ‘bout you?”

She motioned to her useless shoulder. “I guess I’ll live too.” Her eyes darted around for a moment. “You have any restore materia?”

He shook his head, carefully stepping down a slope to reach a dying workman. “Nah, Tifa had all that.”

“Great,” she muttered, gingerly walking around the jagged pieces of metal and glass that made up the port bow of the Highwind. Soon, more moans caught her attention, and she rushed into the night to find the source of it. It was Tifa, barely conscious, with several deep lacerations on her face and exposed skin, but otherwise unharmed. Kneeling down, Yuffie began to pry the large piece of scrap metal off of her, tossing it away.

She gasped.

Laying over her stomach, unmoving, with several small spikes of steel protruding from his back, was Cloud. “Oh my God, Barret, you better get over here!” she called, a tinge of desperation to her voice she wasn’t used to hearing. Tentatively reaching down, she felt for a pulse. A wave of relief flooded her as she felt his neck veins beating strongly against her fingertips. The wounds, while painful to look at, didn’t seem to be very serious. The shards only dug in perhaps three-quarters of an inch into his skin, and she saw him fit for movement. Clutching his shoulders, she almost dragged him off the woman’s smaller frame, to a nearby wall that he could lean against without injuring his back further.

The large man bounded over, helping her with the load. Cloud was large by no means—5’7”, and rather scrawny at that. The only thing, in fact, large about the ex-SOLDIER was his spiky blond hair that seemed to defy the laws of physics. But he had power far stronger than he appeared to have been possible. Both Yuffie and Barret knew that personally.

They rested him upon the wall, positioning him so he would remain sitting yet not touch the small steel spines resting in his back. Yuffie, being the more experienced of the two, searched the incapacitated leader of the group, searching for any curative materia. She didn’t find any, which is what she was expecting. The fact that she didn’t find *any* materia on him is what startled her.

Chalking it up to the bumpy ride, her tiny frame made her way back to Tifa, who now was coherent enough to speak. “…Cloud…is—“

“He’s fine,” Yuffie replied quietly, resting her hands upon the shoulders of the battered woman. “A little roughed up, but fine.” Tifa, like Yuffie, was small in frame, her bust being the obvious exception. But, like Cloud, her lithe form held a deadly power. Taught by the famous martial artist instructor Zangan from a young age, Tifa knew how to use her fists in more ways than she knew how to use a shuriken. Yuffie sighed wearily, wincing in pain at her left arm. “Where’s your restore materia?”

The buxom woman blinked her chestnut eyes, sitting up from the destruction. Wiping a stray strand of brown hair away from her face, she searched her gloves and gauntlets for any trace of the Full Cure or the Restore materia. Not only was her curative materia gone, but all the other materia on her person was missing as well. “Weird,” Tifa murmured softly, looking up to the ninja, who was her junior by four years. “I can’t find any of it.”

The shinobi nodded, mentally regretting the movement. “Yeah, same thing happened with me, Barret and Cloud. Not one damn piece of materia is in sight.” She harrumphed, again getting rewarded with protests by her weary body. “And I have a feeling I don’t want to know why.”

“Yeah,” the martial artist master answered lamely, struggling to her feet. For over a half an hour, they surveyed the wreckage, searching for either curative materia or survivors. The synthetic machine, Cait Sith, was found demolished underneath a piece of the bulkhead. Red XIII, the cat-like creature was found with his paws broken, unable to walk. Various members of Cid’s crew were found in the debris, some alive, some dead or dying.

Vincent, the former Turk turned shape-shifting monster, was nowhere to be seen. Only the tattered remains of his cloak were found hanging on a jagged edge of metal, near a large hole in the hull. Yuffie surmised that the monster within him had finally taken complete control of him.

They searched, but could find no sign of the last of their troupe, the pilot of the ship who most likely saved their very lives, Cid Highwind. The ebon haired ninja again felt that tumultuous cauldron of failure and guilt in her stomach, and she came to the conclusion that she utterly despised it. Most of the bow had been buried, and she hadn’t seen him move from his spot once. A Captain true to form, even down to the cliché “a captain goes down with his ship”.

She sat upon a flat section of steel, she imagined right around where the controls for the ship would have been, staring down to her feet. Yuffie wasn’t sure what to do. Nothing made sense anymore. Cid had been right when he told her she didn’t understand how life worked, and again when he said “not everybody won”. She had personally witnessed two men die a painful, gruesome death. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been exposed to violence before, but in her eyes, these men did nothing but help her and her friends. For some reason the ninja couldn’t quite fathom, their deaths shook her to the very core. “*This* is the real world?” she grumbled sullenly. “Then the real world sucks ass.”

“…wat…cher mouth…brat…”

Her head shot up, eyes widened to saucers. She grinned, never once enjoying hearing that scratchy voice calling her a brat more in her life. “Cid?” she nearly shrieked, her head whipping about for signs of him anywhere. Her voice gained the attention of the others, who all shouted various things as they came racing to her aid. “Cid? Where the hell are you?”

“…under…underneath ya…” came the rasped reply.

She bolted up, frozen, her acute eyes searching the area. Almost as some sort of cosmic joke, she found the tip of his fingers jutting from hellish wreckage right beside her feet. The others capable of walking, which consisted only of Tifa, Barret, and a few engineers, dashed through the darkened mass of steel and cable to aid their friend. Yuffie at that moment became eternally grateful for meeting such honorable, good-hearted people.

Cursing her now useless left arm, the hot-headed ninja wrenched some of the slabs off while kicking others away with her feet in pent up frustration. The small crowd joined in, tearing and clawing at the debris until they saw fit to carry him out. With help from Barret’s ample musculature, the teenager tore the last piece of metal off of him, searching him for any wounds. The pilot blinked, wincing as he moved. She leaned forward, holding her good arm out for the Captain to grasp onto. He gazed at her for a moment, as if she had grown horns on her head, before readily accepting her outstretched hand.

She steadied herself as the blond tugged her arm forward, putting all his weight on her slim fingers. She managed to hold her ground, though, until he finally made his way to his feet, stumbling about for a moment. Brushing himself off, he growled in pain, his gloved hand going to his side underneath the folds of his tattered jacket. Seconds later he pulled his hand out, and her eyes locked onto the dark liquid that was smeared upon the worn brown leather.

Flinching, Cid’s eyes darted about. “Who’s got the restore materia?”

The buxom brunette merely shrugged as his eyes landed upon her. “We can’t find any.”

He frowned, glancing at his blood-smeared hand. “Shit,” he muttered. “What about potions?”

Everyone’s eyes fell upon her. Yuffie blinked. Why did they always think she was stealing their items? She would have been offended if she hadn’t known that more often than not they were right. Sighing, she searched all her pockets, even the hidden ones she used for when she *did* actually steal their items, coming up empty. She shook her head mutely, shrugging.

He rubbed his eyes wearily with his clean hand, sucking in a deep breath. “Great. Just fucking dandy.” Turning on his heel, Cid started up the hill of shrapnel, asking, “where’s Spike and the others?”

“Injured,” Tifa replied quickly, following suit. Yuffie shrugged, as much as she was able to, and hiked up the hill as well. They continued for fifteen minutes, weaving their way through the destruction, looking at their friends, in their various conditions. The worst seemed to be Red, who was incapable of walking. All others were either capable of walking or dead, which to her was a good thing. That way she would not have to watch another innocent person die. For a moment, she bitterly cursed ever meeting the rebel group. She never asked to have a soul.

Yuffie knelt down to the cat-like creature, resting her right hand on his side. “Don’t worry, Red. You’ll be patched up and back to your normal egghead self in no time.”

His furred lip twitched upward, showing a couple pristine, razor sharp teeth off. “I’m assuming that was a compliment.”

“Alright, people, listen up,” Cid commanded, his gravelly voice lined with steel. “We’re gonna hafta make our way to Kalm to get supplies. Some of us here ain’t in good shape.” He paused for a moment, before adding, “Like me.” Clearing his throat, the ninja watched as he paced about them. “Barret, ya think you’re able to carry Red to Kalm?”

Barret nodded curtly. The ninja was somewhat surprised by his readily accepting Cid as the momentary leader. Normally—*always*, actually, he would have thrown a big fit about “that spiky-haired nutjob” taking the lead, when it all actuality, AVALANCHE was *his* outfit. Maybe, though, she surmised, he didn’t really feel like putting up a fuss. After all, there were more important things at stake.

Cid returned the nod grimly. “Good. We’ll start off tomorrow morning. We all need the rest.”

Tifa stepped forward haltingly, her back to Yuffie. “What about Cloud?”

Cid stared at her for a moment, seemingly oblivious to her concern for him. A frown formed at the corners of his busted lip. “He’ll be fine, we just need to get to Kalm.”

The small brunette shook her head, her voice lowering. “No, I mean, how will he *get* there? He’s not in any condition to walk.”

“If ya wanna look at it that way, neither am I,” the lean blond answered tersely.

The lithe figure put her hands on her hips. “You don’t have spikes sticking out of your back.”

It was quite obvious to the ebon haired teenager that the usually crass pilot was beginning to lose his patience. “No, I don’t, but I got a nice sized gash in my side, that could get infected if it don’t get treated within the next 24 hours or so.” He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. “Look, we’re all in bad shape. I’ll tell ya what…if he ain’t able to walk by tomorrow mornin’, I’ll carry him. ‘Kay?”

Her head shot up, her entire body going rigid with his request. “Y-you will?”

He nodded. “Ain’t no big deal, Teef. Relax, okay?”

She nodded slowly, pacing off to be with her long time friend. The ninja spied her wiping stray tears away as she walked. She turned to speak to Red, to find his one golden eye closed. A pang of panic surged through her as she gazed at his unmoving form, only to realize that he had fallen asleep, or had passed out. He was in no immediate danger, she reminded herself quickly. Broken feet did not lead to death.

Patting Red softly once more, she rose to her feet, stretching. The tumbling act she went through did a number on her muscles. She hated having to stretch. It seemed such a waste of time that she could’ve spent acquiring materia. However, she also recognized that without it, she’d never be able to get away with half of her acrobatics, and so, she ground her teeth and did it.

Bringing her fingers to her toes, a soft rasping sound wafted to her sensitive ears. She froze in place, listening intently to the foreign noise. It sounded like a cross between sobbing and panting. Curious, she made her way over to the source of the quiet noise, stepping cautiously and silently on the shards of metal and glass. The huffing never became louder as she neared the reverberation; in fact, it seemed to get softer as she stepped closer, like the source of the sound was afraid to alert her to their presence.

Stepping down from a ridge of debris, her deep eyes met the source. It was one of the Highwind’s workers; laid upon a chunk of metal, unmoving and barely breathing. His arms and legs were bent at impossible angles, no doubt crushed beyond repair. The most volatile wound, though, had to have been the large iron rod jutting from his abdomen, which most likely prevented him from moving even an inch any way without causing excruciating pain and possible spinal cord injuries.

Yuffie, possibly for the first time in her life, was speechless. It was amazing he had lived so long as he did such a severe wound like that. Either way, for the raven-locked shinobi, one thing was for sure. He wasn’t going to live much longer without some sort of curative materia. “He-elp…m-me…” he gasped.

[SilverKnight]

She grimaced. The sight of blood revolted her. It made her skin crawl. But what was earnestly piercing her like a knife wasn’t the crimson gushing from his chest, it was his eyes. They were silently pleading, begging, for her to give him some sort of respite from his very obvious pain. The small part of her that actually gave a damn about people pitied him. There was nothing she could do, and the ninja was tempted to just walk away from him, to rid herself of that very annoying need to comfort him. She didn’t, though, because it was rude. Plus, he probably deserved more than to just die alone in the middle of the night.

The ninja moved forward, kneeling down next to the mortally wounded full-fledged pilot. She sneered to herself angrily. She had never even bothered to learn his name, and a nagging part of her asked why she even cared at all. Six months ago, she would’ve just walked away from his prone form, turning up her nose in disgust at his wounds. But now…no. She wouldn’t bother cursing her friends for making her a better person. At least, not now.

Impulsively, she reached up, wrenching her green bandanna off of her head. Wadding it up as much as she could, she wiped the blood and sweat off his face. He smiled weakly, his panic stricken face calming instantly by her touch. Maybe… she mused, maybe her presence alone was just enough to comfort him in his final hours.

Mercifully, he never lasted that long.

Within two minutes, his deep mahogany eyes had fluttered shut, his breathing slowing to nothing. She frowned, clutching the bloody cloth in her hand, which still hovered over his cooling forehead. Sullenly pulling her small hand back, she stood, mourning a man she never knew. Yuffie didn’t know him, or any of the other members of the Highwind crew, however, it still struck a damaging blow to her psyche to see someone wither and die before her very eyes. Her father hadn’t exactly sheltered her from death and destruction. In fact, he encouraged her when she a was a child to go to the hospital and burn wards that were around, and soak in the violence. “That is your heritage,” he had told her. “Death, honor, pain, tradition. Watch, and understand.”

She never again stepped foot inside a hospital, ramshackle or otherwise.

Shaking the imposing memories away, her acute eyes caught a lone shadow standing on the crest of a debris hill. She figured she already knew who it was, but was nonetheless curious as to what they were looking at, if anything.

The fire in her hip had burned out long ago, at least to her sense of time. With a somber spring in her step, Yuffie climbed the steep slope in less than a minute, taking a standing position to the immediate left of the stiff form. He seemed utterly oblivious to her presence, his eyes gazing out to some unknown point.

Silent for once, her midnight eyes traveled over him, surveying just how bad he looked. His broad shoulders were slumped in exhaustion, his chiseled features more jagged and dangerous looking in the minimal light, casting shadows over his half-closed eyes. His face, like hers, was smeared with grime and sweat, the portions of skin not tarnished sallow and worn. Stray locks of sandy blond hair, that would have normally been held into place by his antique flight goggles, fell listlessly into his face, making his appearance that much more haggard. His clothes were torn and dirty; his flight jacket, once the finest looking piece in his attire, was now only a notch or two above a thick blue rag. It was then she noticed his left hand was clasped against his side. “How are you holding up?” she asked on impulse.

He paused. She presumed he was about to say ‘I’m fine’, before thinking otherwise. Plus, she figured, it would just take too much damn effort. “Not too good, you?”

Instinctively, her hand squeezed the bandanna tighter in her hand. “Could be worse.”

His frown deepened, what little light there was forming it into a frightening scowl. “Yeah, it could be,” he replied, quietly. “Y’know how many crew members there were on the Highwind?”

“No,” she answered, honestly.

He snorted. “Of course ya don’t, you were too damn busy blowin’ chunks in my engine room.”

She shrugged in the way only a teenager could do. “Hey, sue me for being airsick.”

“And trust one a those blood-suckin’ lawyers? Hell no,” he shot back, half joking.

Her thin lips rose in a small grin. “You never could trust anybody.”

He glanced her way, all mirth vanishing from his voice. “And what the hell makes you think that?”

She started. Their playful banter was a welcome change from their usual shouting matches, and his sudden shift back to the old routine was quite unexpected. Gathering her words for a moment, she replied, “You don’t trust *me*.”

“You’re damn right I don’t trust ya! Ya stole all my goddamn materia!” he hissed, glaring at her.

Her muscles stiffened. She hated it when people accused her of things, and Cid Highwind was no exception. “I gave it all back, you know.”

“After we tracked yer sorry ass down and *made* ya give it back, yeah!” he retorted.

She scowled, clenching her hand into a fist. “What, so you can’t trust me because of one little theft?”

He snarled, glaring down at her petite form. “First off, it was more than one time, but that ain’t why I don’t trust ya,” he answered, slowly. “I don’t trust ya because you’re a rude, self-centered, air-headed, spoiled little brat that don’t even *comprehend* the word ‘responsibility’, much less ever show it.”

She blinked, taken aback. It wasn’t like she had never heard comments like those before spoken about her, or at her. She had heard them several times from various people, mainly her father. And she couldn’t count the times she’d heard that speech from Cid himself before. However, the words weren’t exactly what struck her so hard. It was the meaning behind them that left a stinging sensation on her self-esteem. Anger wasn’t at fault for his harsh words as it usually was. Anger was understandable. She knew she could piss him off. That’s what she did best; push people’s buttons. But this time, it was something else that fueled his words. Fatigue. Pain. Desperation.

“I just watched seven of my crewmen die in less than twenty minutes, ‘cause my stupid goddamn miscalculations. It was *my* responsibility to keep ‘em alive, and I didn’t do that. They trusted me with their lives, and they sure as hell paid for it. So don’t gimme any lip on what *trust* means, got it, bitch?”

She dropped her gaze to her feet. Moments later, she heard a soft sigh. “Look, kid,” he began gruffly, “I’m sorry.”

The ninja shook her head. “No, you’re right. I *am* irresponsible, and spoiled, and all that other nice crap you said. You have every right not to trust me.”

“Yeah, well, I ain’t got no choice right now,” the pilot muttered with a sigh. She furrowed her brows, curious, and looked up at the lean blond, waiting for him to continue speaking. “Kid, I ain’t doin’ so good. If I’m gonna hafta be carryin’ Cloud’s skinny ass all the way to Kalm, then chances are, I ain’t gonna make it there. Barret may, but it won’t make a shit’s difference if everyone’s laggin’ behind for me.”

She had a sinking feeling that she knew where this was going. “What’s your point?”

He scowled at her, stamping his foot on the ground. “Dammit, girl, do ya even have a brain in yer head? Think about it for a sec!”

Little did he realize that the shinobi already knew what he was talking about. She didn’t survive as a ninja by her good looks. “You plan to stay behind?”

He simply nodded.

Her reply was immediate. “Why?”

He sighed wearily. “Kid, I already explained—“

She squared her shoulders. “Well it sounds like a bullshit explanation to me.”

He blinked his smoky eyes, surprised. “What?”

The ninja met his stunned gaze evenly. “Your reason. It’s bullshit.”

He scoffed incredulously. “How do ya figure that?”

“You’re not the only one that can carry Cloud, you know,” she replied. “One of your crew can do it.”

“There are only three left, and they’re all injured. Barret can’t do it, and I don’t think Tifa could either,” he clarified calmly. “Who else is gonna do it? *You*?”

She conceded to that point with a slight nod of her head. “Okay, but you may not even have to carry him. Cloud could be capable of walking on his own.”

“Maybe,” he said, “but maybe not. Life’s got a funny way of throwin’ the unexpected at ya. I personally wanna be prepared when she wants to be a bitch and do just that.”

She frowned. “Wait a minute, why does Life have to be a ‘she’?”

“’Cause a man ain’t smart enough to be this twisted,” he replied, deadpan.

She chuckled heartily, shaking her head. “Cute, very cute.”

He gaped at her, his grimy eyebrow arched in amusement. “I’ve heard a lot descriptions ‘bout me…‘cute’ was never one of ‘em.”

“Yeah, well, there’s always a first time,” she commented impassively.

He nodded in affirmation. “Exactly. Which is why I’m stayin’ behind.”

She rolled her dark eyes, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Oh please, stop trying to play the damn hero. You can’t stay behind,” she spoke.

“Oh?” he answered. “And why the hell not?”

“You know it takes almost a full day to get from Midgar to Kalm on foot,” she hissed, glaring at him angrily.

“But we’re not in Midgar, are we?” he retorted, his lip curled up in the slightest of dark smirks.

“No, but we’re all injured. That alone is going to make it a longer trip,” she amended with a sneer. She hated it when he got the upper-hand in arguments.

He shrugged lightly. “I can manage on my own.”

“No, you can’t,” she stated defiantly, ignoring his heated, questioning glare. “There’s nothing here to eat, or to drink, not to mention the fact that there are still monsters everywhere. It’ll be a death sentence, and you know it.”

To her surprise, he shifted his weight to one foot, shoving his hands in his pockets non-chalantly. “What’s your point?”

She scowled at him, her eyes narrowing in determination. “I’m not leaving you behind, Cid.”

He returned her facial expression to a T. “Since when did ya grow a conscience, brat?”

She set her jaw, biting back a scream of frustration. “Since *now*. And if you don’t like that, you can kiss my ass. You can’t stay here, and I’m sure as *hell* not leaving you here, not with that cut in your side.” She remained silent for several seconds to think of an alternative solution. Cid was a hard-ass, and never accepted anything less than perfection.

Taking a deep breath, she voiced the first viable plan that came to mind. “Look, maybe, um…maybe you, me and a few others can travel to Kalm at our own pace while the rest of them go on ahead and bring it back to wherever we are. Does that sound like a good plan?”

He glowered down at her, the muscles in his jaw rolling as he ground his teeth together. Her face remained stoic as she grinned inwardly. She loved it when she one-upped him. “And if I say no?”

She smirked triumphantly. “You won’t.”

“How do ya know that?”

“Because I know you,” she answered. Before he could interrupt, she added, “At least, well enough to know that you’re only doing this because you know your limitations. But if there’s a shot in hell that you can manage to get out of this alive, I know you’ll take the odds.” She watched him for a moment, gauging his reaction carefully. “Am I right?”

He attempted to look profound and stern, but came off only as extremely annoyed. She fought the urge to grin. He hated it when she made sense. Sighing, he relented. “Okay, brat, ya got a point. *But*, you ain’t goin with me.”

Her face fell, confused. “Why not?”

He pointed his gloved finger at her, a serious expression on his face. “Because you’re gonna be on point with the other group.”

She blinked. “On point?”

He frowned deeply. He had to remind himself she wasn’t military. That and she wasn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. “On point. In the lead.”

She paled, her eyes widening. “You’re kidding, right?” He shook his head gravely. “But you don’t trust me!”

He shrugged. “Like I told ya, kid, I ain’t got no choice. Tifa’s not gonna leave Cloud, and I doubt Barret’ll be able to fend off monsters with Red sprawled over his shoulders.” He sighed, absent-mindedly patting his torn jacket for a cigarette. “So, you up to it?”

She grinned. “Like you said, ‘I ain’t got a choice’.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Kid, yer impression of me sucks.”

Stepping off the ledge, she hopped down a few levels with ease. “You’re welcome.”

“Go to bed, brat.”

Her grin only widened. “Sweet dreams to you too, old man.”

--There ya go!--

[Weiila]

Wohoo! Keep at it Silver :D

[Heaven's Soldier]

That's it keep it coming Silver! This is great!

Can't wait to find out what happens after the girls got caught, later in the fic.

[Nebagram]

ooh.. very good :D :D You've got another fan here, Silver! :)

[SilverKnight]

--Yippie! The part I'm working on is coming along really well. I'm psyched. (That's a good thing. :D) Anywho.--

Hero of the Day

***

“’Scuse me while I tend to how I feel…
…these things return to me that still seem real.”

--Metallica, “Hero of the Day”

***

Part II

***

Cid couldn’t help but smile back as he watched her all but leap down the rubble to the ground below. That quaint grin vanished as he held up the bloodied palm of his coarse leather glove, crimson oozing slowly down the sides of his gauntlet. He sneered at the sight; he hated blood. It always made his stomach turn. Unfortunately, he had seen more than his share in the past hour, as he witnessed various members of his crew dying from the numerous wounds inflicted upon them.

When the ship crashed to the ground, he held fast where he was. He knew from physics class that Newton’s first—or was it second?—law of physics basically stated that an object in motion stayed in motion until something else stopped it. Had he jumped for cover, as his instincts were telling him to, he would have remained going at the speed the ship was plummeting, regardless of the fact that the rest of the ship had stopped. Which, needless to say, would have been remarkably painful and ultimately fatal had he given in to those guttural urges.

He frowned. Some of his subordinates were not quite as resolute as he. They should have stayed at their posts. He thought he had taught them better than to freak when it counted. But, he couldn’t have blamed them, they didn’t know. It was a high price to pay for that lesson, though. On everyone, and everything, including his twisting stomach. Identifying the mangled remains of his crew was never part of the job description when he signed up for the military.

Part of the reason why he became a pilot, other than his absolute love for flying, was the fact that there was no close combat. Oh, he had learned hand to hand survival combat, like all the soldiers in Shinra did, but he could never really get past the blood. The stench of it after sitting on any person or thing was overwhelming. The sight of it splattered upon walls, floors, weapons, and faces, made him want to vomit. Worst yet, was the look the other person gave when they knew that they weren’t going to be able to duck that punch or dodge that bullet in time.

That was the most haunting of all. Blood could always be washed away, the smell covered up, but their eyes…they never disappeared. They lingered in the darkness, staring wide-eyed at him, begging him to not pull the trigger. They didn’t respect his privacy, they didn’t leave when he asked. They remained, hovering beneath his eyelids, waiting for the moment when they could pounce. Unrelenting, they were always there, pleading in their ethereal form for rest; for peace.

Frankly, it pissed him off.

After all, what right did *they* have to beg him for peace? *He* was the one that was ordered to eliminate them. *He* was the one that had to live with his actions, seeing that *they* obviously couldn’t. Why the hell did *they* have to keep tormenting him? He was under *orders*, what could he have done? Nothing, that’s what. If he hadn’t done what he was told, *he* would’ve ended up just like *them*, and floating translucent eyeballs was not what he envisioned the afterlife to be.

Cid blinked. He was losing more blood than he thought.

The blood loss wasn’t what was bothering him about the gash in his side. It was the substantial chance that without treatment, the wound would become infected. To the blond, the simple equation of life was weakness + time = death. And, for all of the kid’s ranting and raving, she had a point. He was on his way *home*, dammit. They *won*; why the *hell* did Life have to pull this kind of bullshit?

He harrumphed his displeasure. So much for “happily ever after”.

The pilot grimaced as he began descending the steep hill. However, he, while lean and muscular, was neither as nimble nor as young as his ninja ally. His worn combat boot landed awkwardly on a smooth outcrop of steel, sliding the instant the old leather and the misshaped metal met. Unable to catch his balance, the pilot spun about, wildly grasping for anything within reach. His hand found only air.

As he plummeted from the crest into the almost palpable darkness below, he could have sworn he saw a pair of wide, terrified, bloodshot eyes gazing at him.

--There ya go!--

[Nebagram]

ooh, almost literal cliffhanger ;) keep it coming! :D

[redshuriken]

This is my first time reading an FF7 fic; it makes me yearn for more.

[SilverKnight]

--Hm, ya know, this really isn't buying me all that much time. >curses influenza< Bastard creations. Anywho, off to the next part!--

The first thought that ran through his mind was that he was drowning.

Then, as his awareness of the comings and goings around him became more acute, he realized it wasn’t water that was pouring into his lungs. It was air. His mind reeled, trying feebly to figure out what the hell was going on.

“C’mon, Cid, wake yer ass up!” a deep voice growled. He recognized the voice. It belonged to Barret. “The fall wasn’t *that* far!”

He felt a large object nudge him in the side, causing him to groan in pain. Scowling, he opened his dark blue eyes, focusing on the towering silhouette as much as he could with stars floating in front of him. For all he knew, the shadow could’ve been the Easter Bunny doing a tap dance, and he wouldn’t have known any better. Lethargically, he rolled onto his knees, trying to remember what had happened between stepping down the debris hill to getting turned into a soccer ball by Barret. Which, when he thought about it rationally, wasn’t true. Barret only tapped him lightly. But, every other part of him was completely and utterly pissed off.

He glared up at Barret’s frowning face. “Ow, man,” Cid croaked, clearing his throat. “The hell was *that* for? Ya didn’t hafta *kick* me, ya know.”

The shadow scoffed. “Gimme a break, ol’ man, I was just wakin’ yer sorry ass up.”

“’Old man’? You’re *older* than me, dipshit,” he hissed.

“Yeah, but I don’t look it,” he replied non-chalantly.

“Yeah, right,” he replied in a clipped tone.

The massive outline shook his head, clambering up clumsily to a higher level. “Jes…try not ta kill yaself next time, aight?”

He harrumphed. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Yanking his arms backward, he got to his feet shakily. Wiping his brow, he winced. Damn, he’d cut his head. Oh well. It wasn’t any worse than what he’d already had. Blotting at the wound, he again started down the pile, content to move as slowly as possible. Stepping down to a lower level, he spied that he had fallen quite a way from the top of the hill. He was near the bottom now. “Damn well *better* be…” he huffed quietly to himself, hopping to the ground, the soft earth giving weigh under his brown leather, steel-toed combat boots.

The impact still managed to send a jolt through him, most of the pain heading directly for his side and his forehead. Lucky him. He scanned the area. Yuffie was sitting next to a smoldering fire down at the base of the debris hill, poking at it with a small stick, the other three remaining members of his crew curled around it. He winced, not from the now mild pain in his right side, but from the dull aching in his chest. He may not have been in the best shape, but he was far better than what could have happened.

Glancing back, he noticed Barret hauling Red down from the wreckage that once was his ship. The pilot hadn’t been with the happy psychos from the beginning, and he never exactly learned how he got his gun-arm (and never really asked; pissing off a guy who could blow his head off at long range wasn’t exactly on the top of his to-do list), but he learned quickly when he joined up that Barret wasn’t the type of man to leave a friend hanging. Cid figured he’d sooner die than allow his friends to come to harm.

Tifa and Cloud were probably still up in the ship. He shook his head. That girl could be stubborn when she chose to be, and he knew that she wouldn’t want to move away from him. She too would’ve laid down her life to save him or any of the others. The blond snorted, pondering exactly how in the hell he wound up hooking up with these head-cases.

He languidly strolled away from the crash site, lost in thought. What a stroke of blind luck, he thought. That a group of crazies like them all get together at the same time. His lip twitched upward. He joined them, though, so he couldn’t really talk about how insane they were. Then again, thinking back to the final battle with Sephiroth, he realized that he too would’ve gladly (“gladly” being used loosely) died if it meant the others, and the rest of the planet, could live out their days in relative peace.

He scoffed to himself. “Relative peace”. Yeah, right. He frowned, a bitter taste coating his tongue. The pilot doubted anyone would really get the message of this close shave. He *hoped* they would, but…somehow, he suspected they wouldn’t. Perhaps, for a short period of time, the normal Joe’s and Mary’s would be willing to look on the brighter side of things, but sooner or later, they’d slip back into the old routine.

Turning on his heel suddenly, he brought his smoky blue eyes up to lay upon the smoldering ruins of his beloved ship, now the stern jutting into the air like so much scrap metal. The heavy clouds slowly pulled away, a slit of the white moon giving the gutted and battered ship an eerie blue glow at his vantage point, yards away. The bow was no more than folds of steel, smoking and crackling with fires unseen. The stench of death and ash was all too thick in the blustering April winds. He frowned. His pride and joy, reduced to a measly hunk of junk.

He flinched. His pride and joy, reduced to an unmarked, shimmering steel graveyard.

Cid gingerly touched the oozing wound in his side. They died serving him. They risked life and limb to help him when he asked. In some ways, he owed them his life. The whole planet owed them their lives. He would not forget that.

Solemnly, his eyes fixed ahead, he snapped to attention, his fingertip pressed against his forehead in a salute. He would never forget their sacrifice. For what seemed like hours to him, he stood stiff, his eyes focused at a point far beyond the wreckage, his arm raised in a somber ‘thank you’ to his fallen comrades. It wasn’t until a silhouette that seemed to materialize in front of him woke him from his semi-dreaming state. The shadow cocked its head to the side, asking, “what are you doing, Cid?”

Worming his way back to reality, he dropped his hand to his side, smiling grimly. “Just sayin’ ‘thanks’,” the lean blond replied enigmatically, starting off toward the campfire.

The shadow, now identifiable as the ninja girl Yuffie, knitted her brows. “’Saying thanks’? What’s that mean?”

Cid remained silent, ignoring her question. “How’re the others doin’?”

He could hear the frown in her voice. “As good as can be expected. And don’t change the subject,” she added sternly. “What’s that mean?”

He bit back a growl of annoyance. The curiosity of children…damn, he was old. “None ya goddamn business,” he snapped. “Ya ever heard of privacy?” She snorted. He rolled his eyes, nearing the warmth of the flickering light. “No, of course ya haven’t,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. “You’re a ninja.”

The waif of a girl passed him, plopping down upon the ground gracelessly. “Seriously, though,” she started, “what were you doing?”

He didn’t bother holding back the sigh as he rested upon a nearby piece of metal. “You ain’t gonna let this go, are ya?” She shook her head, a smile lighting her face. Her grin only worsened his mood, and fueled his swiftly heating temper. “Look kid, I really don’t feel like talkin’ ‘bout it.”

Yuffie shrugged. “Why not?”

He glared at her, his dark blue eyes flaring in anger. “’Cause I *don’t*.”

She nudged him with her good hand conspiratorially. “C’mon…confession’s good for the soul.”

His eyes narrowed. “And what would *you* know about a soul?” he growled dangerously, his rough voice reminding him of sandpaper. The ninja blinked, her expression stunned, as if he had physically struck her. Mentally, he winced at his statement. The pilot knew her weak points, and when he was pissed, he wasn’t afraid to exploit them. He knew it was wrong, and he berated himself every time he wound up using them to his advantage, but he also knew that she did the same damn thing. Only rarely had the others attempted to intervene, and they as well quickly learned how cut-throat the two could be when pushed to their limits.

The blond held his breath, waiting for the retort that was bound to come.

He did not have long to wait.

Yuffie quickly recovered from her stupor, her jaw setting in defiance. “And I guess *you’re* the expert on souls, huh? After all,” she spoke, “you’re probably haunted by so many of them that you have to actually *thank* them when they go away.”

The remaining crew of the Highwind all woke from their slumbers, glancing at eachother for a moment before scattering like roaches in a basement. Cid’s muscles stiffened, a flurry of obscenities on the tip of his tongue like viper’s fangs, waiting to strike. “First off,” he began slowly, “you ain’t got a goddamn clue what you’re sayin’. I wasn’t thankin’ the souls for goin’ away, or whatever the hell you’re claimin’. I was thankin’ the crew that died for savin’ our asses.” He paused, allowing her a moment as ask what he was talking about. When she didn’t, he continued. “Those men didn’t hafta help us, but they did anyway. I couldn’t have been able to run that ship on my own, and the Highwind was the only way we coulda gotten into the Northern Crater. If it wasn’t for *them*, we all woulda been dead ‘n gone by now,” he explained, his voice filled with venom. “Never thought a *that*, did ya?”

The thief blinked, her eyes staring off to a far off point. “No, you didn’t,” he answered for her. “So before ya start spoutin’ shit, get yer fucking *facts* straight first.” He harrumphed, turning his head away. “Not like you ever thanked anybody in yer life for anything, anyway,” he muttered indignantly.

“What do I have to be *thankful* for?” she squawked. “My homeland was humiliated by that stupid damn city you all wanted to save. My old man doesn’t give a *damn* about me; says I’m a disgrace to the name Kisaragi. Says I should’ve never been born. I should be thankful for *that*?”

His chiseled lips thinned into a frown, his eyes still averted to the firelight. “Yeah, ya should be. Could be a helluva lot worse, y’know.”

“Is that a fact?” she quipped mockingly.

“Yeah, it is,” he snapped. “You ever been disowned?”

“No, but—“

“How ‘bout abandoned?”

“Well, no—“

“Beaten and ridiculed?”

“Of course not—“

“Left for dead?”

His silence answered his question for her.

He sighed. “Thought so. Well, remember, kid, there are always people worse off than you.”

Silence. “Like you?”

His eyes darted over to hers, holding them there. That was not the type of question he was expecting to come from her. In fact, the pilot was assuming she’d give another retort on how crappy her life had been. The last thing that ever came to mind when pondering the thief in front of him was her thinking of others. Blinking, he slowly turned his head back towards the warm waves of the fire, losing himself in the various reds and yellows. “Not now, kid,” he found himself murmuring. “Let’s worry ‘bout surviving tomorrow first, okay?”

Again shocking him, he heard her whisper, “Alright.” Glimpsing her way, he spied the lithe ninja laying her head down, curling up in a ball near the fire, her back turned to him. His mind reeled from the conversation that had just passed. Was he dreaming, or had she actually respected his wishes for once? He shook the forming cobwebs out of his head. He needed rest.

Taking off his jacket, he wadded it up and placed it under his head to use as a pillow. Yawning quietly, he noticed the tiny ninja shivering, her small body curling up even tighter. “Kid, you’re gonna freeze to death,” he muttered, ironically, considering he was clad only in pants and a black sleeveless undershirt. Standing up painfully, Cid picked his heavy jacket up off the ground, crossing over to the lightly snoring Yuffie. He carefully placed the heavy jacket over her shoulders, watching her clutch it to her absent-mindedly, her legs folding underneath the material. Feeling suddenly awkward, he returned to his spot, laying on his good side, tentative to keep any dust or ash out of his wound. Unwrapping his scarf, he placed it firmly over the blood-covered gash, holding it there with his left arm.

Against his will, her words reverberated in his head. ‘*You’re* the expert on souls, huh?’ What a cold-hearted thing to say to another person. Then again, he’d alluded that she had no soul, so he was just as guilty as her. “Hmph, we must be a quack’s dream,” he huffed to himself. Shaking his head, he ignored the piercing eyes glowering at the back of his head, and fell into an uneasy sleep.

--There ya go!--

[Weiila]

Ooh, if the poor peeps only knew what they have in front of them... ^^;;

[SilverKnight]

--Woo. Another update. Don't get used to this, now. :D--

Hero of the Day

***

“The window burns to light the way back home…
“A light that warms no matter where they’ve gone.”

--Metallica, “Hero of the Day”

***

Part III

***

Yuffie blinked blearily. For a moment, she darted her eyes around the dark skyline, expecting to see the monolithic crimson rock spiraling towards the ground, to find nothing there. Her memory returned, and she smiled contently. The ninja yawned, resting her eyes upon the blue fabric of the coat.

She blinked. Blue fabric of the coat?

Gripping the heavy jacket in her hand, she studied it intensely. The coarse cloth on one arm held a red and black “Highwind” patch. Instantly realizing who it belonged to, the teenager struggled to think of a time when Cid had given her his jacket, coming up empty.

Taking in her surroundings, the first thing she immediately noticed was that it was still before dawn. The sun still loomed beneath the horizon, making its lazy way up to the sky above, golden tendrils spearing into the darkness. The fire had gone out long ago, the burnt out pieces of scrap wood releasing thin silver streams of smoke unseen into the lightening sky. The three members of the Highwind crew had returned sometime after their spat, all three huddling near eachother and the fire for warmth.

A few yards away, her eyes fell upon the unmoving form of Cid. She rolled to her feet unsteadily, her hip protesting the moment, perhaps moreso than the last time she had awakened. She snorted to herself. “Hmph, and they say time heals all wounds,” she muttered quietly.

“Do all ninjas talk to themselves?”

Her eyes darted over to the source of the rough voice. Cid laid on his side, a tiny smirk upon his chiseled lips. Quickly, it morphed into a fearsome snarl, his gloved hand swiftly moving to his injured side. It took all of Yuffie’s training to not turn away in abject disgust as he methodically peeled the soaked through cotton scarf away from his wound; the wet sucking sound of peeling flesh audible in the quiet morning. With an unreadable expression, he refolded the thick material so a clean section was showing, and reapplied it. Growling quietly, she noticed his muscles tense for the first few seconds the scarf touched his gash. Soon, though, the impassive mask reappeared, and he sat up with only a slight grunt of exertion.

The ninja found watching him treating his abrasions oddly intriguing, in an almost sadistic way. He wasn’t impatient or rough as he most often was around the others. Normally, the pilot would take the route of beating the offending person or object into submission. To observe him being careful about *anything* was rare.

She ignored the dull pain in her left arm, useless waste of skin it now was, as she limped her way over to him. She held out the heavy coat for him to take, the fabric hanging inches from his face. He, however, remained oblivious to it, gingerly wrapping the scarf around his waist. Several moments later, he momentarily raised his head, his nose inadvertently nudging the cloth. Startled, he jerked backwards, landing on his backside. “Geez, kid,” he huffed, snatching the coat from her slender fingers, “do ya mind not sneakin’ up on me like that?” He blinked, quickly muttering, “Waitaminute, nevermind, you’re a damn ninja.”

The ebon-locked thief wasn’t sure if his statement was meant sarcastically or genuinely, but she smiled at it anyway. Clearing her throat, she took a deep breath. “Um…Cid…” she managed out.

He glanced up to her, locking his cool eyes with hers. “Yeah?”

Again, she tried to force the seditious words through her vocal cords, but to no avail.

He knitted his brows. “What? What’s yer problem?”

She chuckled nervously. “Um…yeah…I, uh…” she stammered.

His chiseled lips tugged downward into a frown. “*What?*”

The ninja clenched her teeth together in frustration. “Thanks.”

He blinked, surprised. “Huh?”

Before he could say any more, she turned on her heel, stalking back towards the remains of the leaning remains of the ship, mentally kicking herself the entire way. It shouldn’t have been so hard to say. It was one little word, ‘thanks’. That was no reason for a mind to suddenly shut down, especially not hers. And it wasn’t even anything of great importance. She was thanking him for a measly *jacket*.

Then again, she didn’t have much experience in that field.

She froze in mid step, pondering the epiphany. Cid had been right. She *hadn’t* thanked anyone before. She had never apologized either, the one time on the Highwind being the obvious exception. The prodigal shinobi had never really believed that she had anything to be thankful about, but after their conversation the night before, she understood that her life could have indeed been much worse than it had been.

Possibly like his.

Shaking her head slowly, the ninja climbed up the jagged slope of the Highwind hull. Having one arm numb made it a great deal harder than had she been in perfect health. However, in a little over fifteen minutes, she sat on the crest, regaining her strength. While breathing in and out slowly, she was careful to keep her mind clear of any stray thoughts. She was not ready to reach into the section of her mind that remained concealed by years of cobwebs and ambition.

“Kid, you okay?”

Snapping her head around, she laid eyes upon the mammoth leather boots that could only belong to Barret. Biting back a sigh, she nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just catching my breath, that’s all.”

Barret scoffed roughly. “Yeah, it’s a bitch to climb, ain’t it?” Massaging the back of his neck with his hand, he sat down next to her. “Wat’chu doin’ up here, anyway?”

She paused. What *was* she up here for? Blinking, she spouted the first thing that came to mind. “I, uh, wanted to know how Spike—er, Cloud, was doing.”

Barret’s full lip twitched up in amusement. “’Spike’? Kid, you been spendin’ too much time wit Cid.”

The corner of her mouth curled up for an instant, disappearing as quickly as it came. Flashing a quick mischievous glance in his general direction, she cocked her head to the side. “*You* call him that *too*, you know.”

He raised a thin eyebrow at her. “Jes what’chu tryin’ ta say, brat?”

Her rose lips parted in an evil grin. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” Straining her neck upwards to look him in the face, she asked, “So, how *is* Cloud doing?”

What mirth was in his eyes vaporized like so many mirages, being replaced with the icy crystals of reality. “Still out.” Harrumphing to himself, he shook his head, staring out blankly into the early morning sky. “What’s da game plan?”

Yuffie furrowed her brows, gaping at him. “What makes you think he’d tell *me*? He doesn’t trust me, and you know it.”

He nodded slowly, his scarred face hardened with years of witnessing Life’s cruel whims. For a moment, as he pondered his answer, the teenager wondered how he had managed to get through it all. He had been burned far more times than she had. He—like her—had lost his home, his honor, and pride, when the Shinra came in and took what wasn’t rightfully theirs. But he had lost more. Barret had lost his wife, his friends…his *best* friend, Dyne, whom had become a raving, blood-lusting maniac. He was forced to watch him die, able and yet unable to save him, and he probably blamed himself for it. It was just that much more blood slathered on his one remaining hand. To him, there was already so much there, a bit more wouldn’t make a difference…

“He *don’t* trust ya,” he huffed, bringing her back to the present, “but you da only one left who can be on point. Ev’rybody else is gonna be doin’ somethin.”

She nodded in appreciation for his tactical intellect. He was the original leader for a reason, obviously. Honestly, she began to wonder if she would be able to cut it as the leader, even as a temporary one. If and when a situation would arise that needed strategy, the ninja was apprehensive of what she could possibly do. Shoving the thought away, she replied, “Do *you* trust me?”

He glanced over to her, shrugging ambiguously.

She rolled her eyes, getting to her feet. “Geez, thanks for the pick-me-up.”

He smirked. “Ain’t no problem, kid.” He too stood, towering over her while still half bent over. “So,” he started, “what’s da word?”

She gathered her thoughts, attempting to form a plan. Trying three times and failing, she scrapped the whole idea and just decided to ‘let the chips fall where they may’. “We’re splitting into two teams,” she stated, dead-pan. “Cid and a few others are going to go at their own pace. Everyone else is coming with me. My team is going to get to Kalm as fast as possible, and bring back supplies to Cid’s group.”

His dark lips tugged downward. “That’s it? That’s all ya got?” Sighing, he shook his head. “Kid, lemme ask ya somethin’. Cid’s ‘team’…how they gonna be able ta defend themselves if da shit hits da fan?”

Yuffie set her jaw, glaring at the larger man. “Cid says he doesn’t want us to be lagging behind because of him. Also, he figures this way is quicker. I don’t really like it either, but it’s the only chance I think we have. If you have any better plans, by all means, tell me. You’re more of a tactician than I am.”

His gaze shifted to a far off place, his expression contemplative. “Hm…the ol’ man’s gotta point. Aight, we doin’ it yer way. When we leavin’?”

She shrugged non-chalantly, giving Barret no outward clue of her amazement at herself. “Whenever everyone’s ready to.”

Barret blinked again. “Damn, kid…ya *really* got a lot ta learn ‘bout bein’ a leader.”

The ninja shrugged again, hopping down to a lower level. “Fine. Then teach me.” Before the larger man could reply, she had skipped her way down half the jagged slope with little trouble. As she made her way down to the charred earth below, she thought of the friends she had made, and the conditions they were now in. Cloud was unconscious, Tifa was injured, Barret was as coarse as ever, Red was unable to walk, Cait was destroyed, Vincent had mysteriously vanished, and Cid…

Her eyes made their way over to Cid’s crouching form, gazing at the smoldering pile of burnt wood. His unruly blond hair was in various stages of disarray, clumps of it frozen in different positions. His dusty blue jacket was thrown over his shoulders, providing minimal protection from the wind in its tattered condition. The pilot didn’t seem to notice, though, lost in thought.

He was injured, and yet he volunteered to help his comrade in arms for no other reason than to do it. If the other members of the Highwind crew were to come with her, that would leave only Tifa to defend them against anything that might come their way. The ninja believed that the shapely bartender could take care of herself and those around her, but guarding herself and two other injured people alone…?

“Yuffie!” Startled, she turned around, her ebony eyes falling upon Tifa. The buxom woman was waving her hand in the air, standing on a small cliff of steel rods, smiling brightly. Narrowing her eyes slightly, the raven-locked thief twisted her body around, forcing a miniscule jovial grin.

Standing at the base, Yuffie stared above, shouting, “What’s up?”

Stepping down a few levels, Tifa eyed her happily. “Good morning!” she declared.

The ninja blinked. “Um…good morning.” Pausing for a moment to read the expression on her pale face, she frowned slightly. “So…um…” she began haltingly, “is there…anything I can do for you?”

Tifa hopped to the ground, shaking her head merrily.

Her face fell, the brunette’s cheerful face sucking out whatever joy was left in her system, her radiant grin soaking it up like a sponge. “That’s all you wanted to say? ‘Good morning’?”

She nodded briskly, running a hand through the small tangles in her long, thick hair. “Well, *someone* here has to be in a good mood. Everyone else seems to be the walking dead.”

Forcing down the comment that threatened to emerge, she instead sighed. “Yeah, well, it’s going to be a long day. Everyone’s just resting up, I guess.”

The slightly taller woman nodded contently, walking towards the remains of the campfire. The ninja watched her for a moment, shaking her head. Tifa was by no means stupid; in fact, she had a practical knowledge of the human body that she’d never heard of before. However, if there was a weakness in the fighting master, it was her blind trust in others. In short, the woman was gullible in the extreme. When they had first met, the ninja used that flaw at every possible chance. However, now, she disliked using it to her advantage, especially after all the kindness that had been shown to her. But, sometimes lying to her was for her own good. At least, that was her justification.

“Heads up, kid.”

Instinctively, she dove to the ground, rolling on her numb shoulder into a defensive crouch. Staring at her previous standing place, her eyes again fell upon the massive worn boots that covered the rebel’s large feet. Blinking in confusion, she stood, her deep eyes following up his large muscled body, stopping at the figure lying limp over his shoulder. “Decided to bring Cloud down?”

He nodded curtly, an odd expression upon his face. “Yeah. What da hell was *that*?”

She rose one eyebrow curiously. “What was what?”

He nodded slightly in her direction. “Da duck ‘n roll thing.”

“Oh.” The ninja paused, half-heartedly trying to make up an excuse for her ‘duck ‘n roll thing’. “Well…”

“Habit?” he supplied for her. She nodded mutely. “Hmph. Aight then. You cool?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied.

She studied their leader for a moment, slumped listlessly over Barret’s shoulder. Her sharp eyes noted the absence small spines of steel in his back that were imbedded there the last time she laid eyes upon it. In its stead, each of the dozen wounds had been treated with a painstakingly careful touch. Tifa, probably. Thinking back upon her behavior a few minutes ago, the ninja gained a new respect for the woman’s inner strength. Anyone who could treat their loved ones wounds and *still* wake up happy had to have integrity. “So, we’re all ready,” Yuffie stated flatly.

He nodded in military-like fashion. “Spike here’s da last one up there, so yeah.”

“See? You *do* say it.” He merely stared at her as if she were insane. Shaking her head, she sighed. “Alright. Get Red, and I’ll talk to the Highwind crew.”

“Wait,” he said, taking a step forward. “They comin’ wit us or not?”

The ninja shrugged. “Not sure. I was going to ask them, actually.”

The rebel harrumphed, frowning deeply. “They should.”

She paused, taking a glimpse of the huddled members of the Highwind crew, redressing their gashes. “They don’t *have* to come, you know.”

“Kid,” he sighed wearily, “yer their *leader*. Ya give orders. They *do* hafta come.”

Her eyebrows shot upwards, almost amused. “Oh, they do?”

He nodded. “Animals smell blood, and Cid’s group is bleedin’ pretty bad. Da more blood in one small area, meanin’ Cid’s group, da quicker da animals find ‘em. They better off wit us.” He glared at her, his eyes hard. “Don’t cha think?”

She fell silent, nodding imperceptibly.

Barret snorted to himself. “I *thought* so. Well, ya better tell da crew. It’s gonna to be a long walk, and da more light, da better.” She was too lost in thought to notice him walking off. She felt as if she were three inches tall. She tried to be the leader—failing miserably, at that—and he snapped her back like some rank amateur. Of course, she couldn’t blame him; he knew more in the tactics field than she did, and she even *admitted* it. And, regardless of his demeanor, he was right on every point. He not only knew what to do, but he knew how and why, as well. Part of her was glad the middle-aged rebel was in her troupe. If something happened where she needed to make quick decisions, she could rely upon him.

The rest of her, however, was embarrassed, and even a little angry. She was not a child that needed to have her hand held through everything.

She shook her head, starting off towards the smoldering campfire. Now wasn’t the time to throw a temper tantrum, she chastised herself harshly. She was a ninja; she had dealt with mistakes before. She’d lived with defeat, and rejection. She had taken her land’s humiliating defeat in stride, and she could take a little brow-beating from some second-rate rebel.

From some second-rate rebel that saved the world, she amended grudgingly.

Her raven eyes wandered to Cid, whom hand just slung their unconscious leader over his shoulder, taking a slow drag off a cigarette he had lit from the tiny cinders. She had learned to think on her feet, compensating for mistakes she could afford to make. Now, though, those same mistakes carried a high a price tag. Far too high for her tastes.

Then again, she was a thief, a lot of prices were too high for her tastes. A wisp of a smirk passed her face. She’d managed to cheat her way out of many price tags in her career, and this time would be no different.

[SilverKnight]

--Heh, go figure. I drop off the face of the earth for a few days, and nobody wishes me fond farewell. :D j/k Anywho, off to the next part.--

The darkness was complete. What moon had been shining the evening before was gone, as if the night had always reigned supreme.

She loved it.

The night was her element. She was a ninja; she needed that absolute darkness to carry out her duties or missions, whatever they may have been. Despite her small stature and scrawny features, the raven-locked girl was quite the thief, as her friends quickly learned. She had even been trained in the ways of assassination, though she never dared use it. She had *some* morals, after all.

“Hey, kid, where da hell *are* ya?” Barret questioned loudly, his booming voice echoing in the flat expanse.

“She is fifteen feet in front of you, Barret,” Red replied, his slightly accented voice tinged with annoyance. “You can’t see in the dark?”

“No, that’s why they call it da *dark*, ya snooty bastard!” he snapped harshly, stumbling over a rock.

“’Snooty’?” the feline guffawed. “I was merely inquiring over whether your eyes have adjusted to the darkness yet.”

“Well, they haven’t. Happy now?” he sneered, jogging up next to the ninja. Yuffie cast a sidelong glance to him, smiling weakly. Unlike Barret, her eyes had long ago adjusted to the inky blackness that surrounded them, scanning the area intently for anything that might pose a threat. No doubt, the fire-tailed creature laying over the rebel’s shoulders had been able to see through the black velvet long before she ever had, luckily for the one holding him. “We been walkin’ for ‘bout fifteen hours now, we oughta be close.”

“That’d make it about 9:30 or so,” she stated. “Would any of the stores still be open?”

“After all da shit that went down? Couldn’t tell ya,” he answered bluntly.

“Let us hope so,” Red said, sighing.

“Hmph. Amen ta that.”

“Same here,” she huffed, shaking her head. She brought her hand up to her face, rubbing her weary eyes for a second, wondering how far along Cid and the others were. Almost against her will, she turned her gaze to the path she had trodden, willing their silhouettes to come into view, only to see the three from the Highwind trudging behind her tiredly. Sighing, the Wutanian swiveled her neck around just in time to see another shadow creeping along in front of them. Stopping in mid step, she motioned brutally with her right arm to hold their position.

Barret’s hulking form lurched to a halt, looking her way. “Ya see somethin’?”

“Shh!” she hissed quietly, pressing her finger to her lips. Squinting her deep eyes in concentration, she desperately tried to make out the forms. They were human, or at least, humanoid, and from their slow and jerky movements, they didn’t appear to be concerned with her group. Beyond that, however, it was impossible to tell, even for a ninja so acquainted with the night. Leaning her slender body over an inch, the pale shinobi whispered, “Red, you see better than I do in the dark, what do they look like?”

The scarlet quadruped pivoted his furred head, his amber eye focused upon the many straggling shadows. Several seconds passed in silence, Yuffie holding her breath in anticipation. The feline sniffed the air, his thin lips curling downward unnaturally. “Refugees,” he muttered dully.

Her dark eyes widened. “From Midgar?”

A bark of laughter exploded from Barret’s lips. “Hot damn! There *were* survivors!”

Red sniffed the air once more, turning his gaze from the darkness to Barret. “I wouldn’t celebrate just yet, Barret. If people survived, they’d naturally head to the nearest towns.”

The rebel frowned, sighing impatiently. “Yeah, I got that. Jes what’s yer point?”

The feline stared into the night momentarily, his face contemplative. “Why?”

The ninja knitted her brows, wondering where her four-legged companion was going with this. “What do you *mean*, ‘why’? Where *else* can they go? They can’t stay in a ruined city.”

His golden eye shifted to her. “And why do you suppose that is?”

Her lips formed a thin frown, her deep eyes narrowing. If she could have crossed her arms, she would have. “Don’t talk to me like I’m three. I have a *brain*, thank you.”

“You haven’t answered my question, yet,” he retorted, unperturbed.

The small teenager grated her teeth together. She felt as if he were staring down at her—which he was, since he was hoisted up on Barret’s broad shoulders. Nothing flared her temper up more than someone underestimating her. With as much attitude as she could muster, she hissed, “Alright, then. You want an answer? I’ll tell you one. The survivors obviously can’t stay in a ruined city because it’s too hazardous. They’d need food, shelter, su—“ Her eyes widened, Red’s insinuation dawning on her. “…They’d need supplies.”

He nodded slightly. “They’re not the first batch, and I doubt they’ll be the last. Kalm is probably already overflowing with them. If there *are* any supplies left, they’ll be extremely expensive.”

“If it’s money, we ain’t gotta problem wit it,” the dark man assured confidently. “I still got ‘bout fifty-thousand stashed on me, and knowin’ *you*,” he remarked, his eyes flitting over to Yuffie, “ya probably got ev’rything else, anyway.”

She scoffed in disgust. “I do *not*. …At least…not *all* of it…”

Barret merely snorted.

“He-hello? I-is anybody out there?” a disembodied voice simpered weakly.

The ninja cast a quick glimpse to the others, nodding to herself. “I’ll go,” she whispered.

“Damn right ya better go, yer the leader,” the large rebel chastised.

Her frown only became more pronounced. “Barret,” she huffed, “shut up.” She wasn’t sure if the muscular soldier was either stunned into silence or just ignored her, and to be honest, she didn’t care. He kept quiet, and that was more than enough for her. Taking a few soft steps forward, her eyes darted about the dark horizon, spotting at least three of the ragged shadows to her left, closing in on her position.

“He-hello?” the same voice squeaked quietly, its voice quivering with either fear or fatigue. Probably both, she told herself. “Wh-who’s there?”

Holding her arm out wide in a gesture of peace, Yuffie continued to walk forward slowly. “Don’t be afraid,” she spoke calmly, her eyes moving from one shape to another, noticing that as she stepped closer, more and more of them appeared. Part of her wondered exactly *how* many refugees Red saw when she asked him to look.

“Who are you?” another voice piped up. It was deeper, more resonant than the original, but it was strained with weariness.

Satisfied that she was as close as she needed to be, she halted in the trampled grass, keeping her one palm up. “My name is Yuffie,” she answered slowly. “I and my comrades are headed towards Kalm.”

“Why?” the second snapped, sounding annoyed. “Where are they, and—“

“Karter,” the first hushed. A shadow disengaged itself from the whole, becoming a small form all its own. “Excuse my friend, miss Yuffie, he’s very protective of us. There aren’t many of us left,” the voice became tinged with sadness and regret.

She could identify with that. “I can understand your…uh, *zeal*, Mr. Karter—“

“Karter,” he replied curtly.

“Uh, right, Karter,” she sputtered, clearing her throat. Turning her gaze to the lead shadow, the ninja took a deep breath. “I want to assure you,” she began, “I mean you no harm. My friends and I, we were in a plane crash. Some of the others were injured. We need to get to Kalm and bring them supplies before they die.”

“Is that the quiet explosion we heard last night?” the first voice, almost feminine in comparison to Karter’s, questioned softly.

She chuckled to herself for a moment. “Quiet,” she echoed. “That’s not the word I would’ve used for it. But, yeah, I guess so.”

For several seconds, the only sound that she could make out was the weak night winds that brought with it the stench of ash and death. Whether the smell was from the Highwind or Midgar, though, the raven-locked teenager couldn’t know for sure. “…Come with us,” the first voice stated. “My name is Castille, although everyone calls me Cas.”

She grinned. “Alright…Cas.”

“How many are with you?” Karter growled.

She cast a glare over her shoulder, minutely nodding her head to the ones behind her. “Including me, six.”

“Come on, then,” he commanded, “we don’t wait for those who lag behind.”

“Gotcha,” she answered, turning to her comrades as they jogged up to her position. Barret was the first to arrive, and as he passed her to join the crowd of stragglers, she could’ve sworn she saw a tiny smirk upon his leathery face. Seconds later, the other three of the Highwind crew caught up with him, and she brought up the rear, content to meld into the crowd and not to lead it.

For many minutes she was lost in thought. How many of these people had survived the meteor’s wrath? How many had lost family members? How many had lost everything they had owned? How many had lost limbs? The numbers, if anyone ever bothered to even count, would be staggering. Momentarily, she wondered if Reeve managed to survive in the slums. She also speculated if some areas were more protected than others, or if it was just blind luck that judged who lived and who died. Either way, the loss of the largest city in the planet would have amazing effects on the world she knew. Maybe it was for the better, but maybe—

“Hey, kid! Where da hell *are* ya?”

Her thin lip twitched upward. Barret. “I’m right here, Barret,” she answered blandly, pondering if he’d let such an unacceptable answer slide.

“That *don’t* help, brat!”

Like clockwork, she mused. The ninja started working her way through the crowd towards Barret, figuring where he was from the sound of his voice and angle at which she was facing. Of course, the fact that Barret was at least a head taller than everyone else helped, too. Coming next to him, she matched his pace, pivoting to face the mammoth man. “So, what’s up?”

He merely jutted his jaw out in a ‘look over there’ fashion. “Lights,” he stated, as if that were the answer to everything.

Scowling, she broke away from the group, trying to get a clear view of these “lights” that Barret mentioned. As she moved further away from them, her acute dark eyes quickly picked up several small dots of light on the horizon. Candles, perhaps? “Ya see ‘em now?” the rebel barked, annoyed.

“Yeah,” she replied. “Yeah, I see them.”

Kalm.

--There ya go!--

[SilverKnight]

--Erm...now that's weird. I updated, but...the forum thingy didn't show it. How rude. Well, a "double" update, because both parts were totally small and really it's not fair to show such a small little tidbit all by its lonesome. At least, not a second time around. :D--

Hero of the Day

***

“Still the window burns, time so slowly turns, someone there is sighing…
…keepers of the flame, can you hear your name, can’t you hear your baby’s crying?”

--Metallica, “Hero of the Day”

***

Part IV

***

Marlene gazed aimlessly out of the window, her small chin resting in the palm of her hand. She sighed, adjusting herself in her less-than comfortable chair, resting her thin legs under her sore and somewhat numb rump. Her lips curled downward into a frown. She watched another band of dirty and hurt people enter the small town, practically begging to be allowed into the Inn, only to be turned away.

It didn’t seem fair. She was sitting here in this nice home, with Ms. Elmyra, when there were all of those people having to scrap up some place to sleep.

It wasn’t fair.

They were probably just as nice as Ms. Elmyra. So *what* if they came from Midgar? They didn’t want to hurt anybody. They only wanted to find some place to sleep. Their homes were probably burned away when the Meteor nearly hit. They lost *everything*. Some may have lost their little doll they had since they were kids. Some lost *limbs*. Some even lost friends, and *family*. The young girl sniffled, wiping her tiny hand across her pug nose in a way a child could only do.

It just wasn’t *fair*.

The small child clutched her small teddy bear tighter. She was a big girl. She could handle it. She wasn’t going to cry. She was three; she was big. She saw in the distance another crowd nearing, and her frown only became bigger. This bunch looked like the worst one of all of them. The poor people…they all looked so sad and lost. They couldn’t go anywhere; all the shops were empty, and all the beds were full. Her eyes stung with tears, but she set her jaw, and blinked them away. She was a big girl. Big girls don’t cry.

Taking a deep breath, she scanned the crowd, looking closely for her father. She knew he left because he was trying to save the Planet, but she still missed him. Her lip twitched down, and she sniffled again. She was a big girl, she told herself. She *had* to be a big girl for Daddy. And big girls do *not* cry.

Her eyes locked upon a single fire-lit figure in the whole mass of people below. Her entire figure jerked forward, leaning her head against the thin pane.

She off-handedly wiped a tear away.

“Daddy,” she squeaked.

---

Reeve sighed, leaning heavily against the unforgiving wooden back of the hard chair. He ran his cut and swollen fingers through his ratty black locks, his piercing blue eyes standing out in stark contrast to the dark and dreary conditions of the tiny room; which would have been small enough if it wasn’t overflowing with refugees.

Wearily, he slowly pulled his aching hands down over his face, massaging his bloodshot eyes for the seventeenth time. Against his will, he gazed at some twenty people that were piled around him, curled up into various positions to keep warm in the barely-heated back room of the materia store. Each of them appeared haggard; far more so than he. His suit was marred with soot and blood, but it was still in relatively good condition.

He got away scot-free.

“Dammit,” he ex-spy whispered into the darkness. He was in good condition, and he had to watch hundreds of people be literally torn apart by the Meteor’s tornadoes. Not only did he live through *that*, he had to survive unscathed while he helped others dig out dismembered, scorched, or otherwise mutilated remains of loved ones. He couldn’t mourn for them as they wept; he couldn’t tell them that he felt their pain. He lost a robot, and a plush office in a corrupt building. He lost nothing of value.

He snarled, clenching his hand into his fist. No, that may not have been entirely true. The last images he saw of his friends were of them hurtling down into the lifeless dirt that surrounded Midgar. Perhaps they were alive, headed his way right at the moment. Or, as he suspected—and summarily feared—they all died in a fiery inferno, crushed to death under the folds of steel, just like those in Midgar.

And he got away scot-free.

“*Dammit*,” the swore heatedly, the fog of his breath catching a tiny bit of light, illuminating it for a moment before it vaporized into nothing. They didn’t deserve to die that way. They put their lives on the line to “fight the good fight”, as the saying went. And what happens to them? They die in the immediate aftermath, before anyone had a chance to know of their heroics. To him, at that moment, death at the hands of Sephiroth was a more pleasant fate than the ones his comrades were possibly sharing now. Death in obscurity. The irony of it all.

And he *still* got away scot-free.

“Dammit all to hell,” he huffed, his aqua eyes gleaming in the darkness. He lost nothing, while his friends and his fellow citizens lost everything. They bled, and he watched. They died, and he stood by. They looked to him for help, and he could only look back.

Rubbing his hand twice over his trimmed goatee, he stood as best as he could manage, and clumsily made his way over to the door, trying his best not to step on anyone. Balancing himself in an awkward position, he shoved the door open, hopping over the snoring child at his feet, softly pressing the door closed. He glimpsed at the store owner, dusting his strangely empty stock shelves, hurriedly heading out the front door.

His face darkened as he laid eyes upon the newest batch of refugees, half-heartedly wondering if Cloud or the others were in there. Haltingly, he took in his surroundings, his sapphire pools falling upon the tiny girl that sat in the windowsill, her posture slumped forward in fatigue. Poor Marlene. When he arrived, he didn’t have the heart to tell the small child what he had seen. After all, he didn’t really know what happened, and he didn’t want to cause the girl any undue worry.

He harrumphed. As if undue worry was the most of his problems at the moment.

Reeve noticed something different about this group than the last ones that entered. A small dot of light caught his eye, casting a red ambience about the various people around it. It wasn’t a torch, for it was moving too quickly and erratically to be connected to any solid object. It was almost as if the fire had a life of its own—

He blinked, his angular face falling in shock. “Red?” It couldn’t have been. He watched as the Highwind plummeted the ground, and as everyone was thrown back into the abyss. The flame flickered about, illuminating a large, hulking figure, who was literally head and shoulders taller than everyone else in the group. It had to be Barret. No one else would be that large, and be carrying Red—

Wait. “Why is Barret carrying Red?” he murmured to no one in particular.

A portly—not to mention drunken—refugee passing by him stopped, whirling around to face him. “Did ye say Barret, lad?” the old man hissed, his milky eyes focused intently on him. “As in, th’ terrorist bastard that called Meteor?”

His face fell. “Excuse me?”

The old man looked at him as if he had suddenly grown another head. “I thought ya said somethin’ ‘bout th’ bleedin’ scum, Barret! Did ye or not?”

“No,” he replied immediately.

The plump man nodded to himself. “Aye, thought so. Well, I can only say one thing ‘bout them bastards. God bless Shinra for stoppin’ ‘em”

God bless Shinra. Right. “I heard those were only rumors.” He had tried desperately to dissuade people from believing that it was, in fact, AVALANCHE who had called Meteor, and not Sephiroth. However, it was quite hard to argue with the President of Shinra Inc., sniveling little mama’s boy that he was; *especially* when Reeve had to lay low while the various lynch mobs searched for him. Added to the fact that AVALANCHE wasn’t exactly squeaky clean—they *did* blow up the Sector One reactor, killing dozens of innocent people in the process. And, who could forget the Sector Five reactor, either? Those who had lost loved ones in the two attacks, and the supposed ‘terrorist attack’ on Sector Seven, never questioned what Rufus—and later that fat bastard Palmer—fed them.

The rest were just too complacent to think for themselves.

God bless Shinra, that greedy son of a bitch.

“Rumors my eye!” the old man shouted, stamping his foot on the ground, reminding Reeve of a horse somewhat. “Th’ bastard blew th’ Sector One and Sector Five reactors sky high, an’ dropped th’ Sector Seven plate fer no other reason than t’ kill as many people as possible! Why should their callin’ the Meteor be a rumor, eh, laddie boy? With *their* track record? Ha! I doubt it!”

He wished that he could animate all his memories of his friends for everyone to see. He wished that he could tell everyone that his friends risked their lives to save the planet, for no reason than to help others.

He wished that he could take some of blame for himself.

“What’cha gotta say, laddie? Not so tough *now*, are ya?” the pudgy man prodded.

He wished he could bash this guy’s face in.

“You believe what you want,” the ex-Shinra employee spoke at length, “but sometimes jumping to conclusions can wind up coming back to haunt you.”

“Terrorist lover,” the fat man sneered.

Oh, how he wished he could bash this guy’s face in.

“Simply because I want to keep an *open mind*, I’m now a sympathizer to terrorists?” He winced. That didn’t come out the way he had planned it. “All I’m doing is trying to get to the truth, and trying *not* to lynch someone who may have done nothing wrong.”

“Why?” the drunkard snorted. “They ain’t human.”

The chattering of the crowd became louder as the haggard throng of broken people staggered into the town square. “If you say so,” he huffed, turning on his heel, “you drunken fool.”

“Terrorist lover!” the old man bellowed, pointing to his direction. Everyone within hearing range stopped, glaring hateful looks at him. Hiding his own disgust, he stalked back into the materia store.

Maybe he *didn’t* get off scot-free, after all.

--There ya go!--

[Chris-chris]

Can't read now... I have to log off because my bro wants the computer. Sorry:(
I'll read it later though.:kissy:

[Heaven's Soldier]

Still going strong, I always found that Part, moving! Keep it up!

[Weiila]

Looking great, Silver, as it did before as well :)

[Chris-chris]

Lovely. just lovely!:D

[Nebagram]

Awesome :) good to see Shinra's corruption extends from beyond the grave :o

[SilverKnight]

--Yay, more FFVII goodness! :D I really need to start writing on this again, like now. >ahem< Anyway...--

Hero of the Day

***

“Now deservingly this easy chair…
…But the rocking’s stopped by wheels of despair.”

--Metallica; “Hero of the Day”

***

Part V

***

Karter didn’t like it.

That girl and her little group of rejects that came in from the Badlands—as they were starting to be called by various survivors—were up to no good, and he knew it. She was somehow familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Unfortunately, to makes matters worse, he hadn’t even been able to see her band of friends, because it was so damned dark. He almost missed the constant red tinge that Meteor gave off even in the darkest of corners. Almost.

He was wary of anyone that wanted to join his group. He could never be too sure when one of those rotten scum AVALANCHE decided to come striding in and wreak havoc. His callused hand rubbed against the side of his revolver softly, caressing it like a lover. It had become his closest companion of late. That Shinra issue .22 was the only thing in the world that didn’t leave him when the Sector One explosion destroyed his brother’s home. It was the only thing that survived when his home on top of the Sector Seven plate was obliterated as it plummeted down below, killing everyone on both sides of it. That gun was the one thing he could count on using as he watched dozens of Mako-poisoned people scream to whatever God they believed in for simple death, which he begrudgingly obliged to them.

He stepped into Kalm town, his steel gray eyes washing over the desolate village that lay before him, a foul taste coating the back of his throat. To think that those murderous cowards could possibly be standing there, laughing gleefully at their turmoil. Black-hearted bastards.

He sniffed the air disdainfully. “We’re here,” he announced, somewhat unnecessarily.

No one in the broken mob seemed to acknowledge his presence, or his words. He didn’t blame them; if he weren’t forced to lead the rag-tag crowd, he would have been lost in a trance as well. Such was the fate of the leader.

“Good,” Cas sighed, running a hand through his thick mop of unruly brown hair. “The question is what do we do now?”

He blinked, a bit surprised at the simplicity of the question, when he again brought his dark gaze to the small town, each building’s side dotted with people from all walks of life. “I’m not sure,” he replied, slightly disillusioned. Sometimes, he had to force himself to remember that the movie’s end didn’t mean the story’s end. Damn life and her twists of fate. “We should try and look for some place to sleep, obviously.”

“No,” the waif of a man answered quickly. “That’s secondary.”

He blinked again, taken aback. “What?”

“What we need,” Cas began, “is supplies. Food, water, materia, potions, anything. Shelter alone won’t keep these people alive.”

He harrumphed to the smaller man, frowning, mocking him mentally. ‘Shelter alone won’t keep these people alive.’ Blah, blah, blah. The only reason he put up with him was because he seemed to be a more soothing presence to people than he. Then again, his first instinct when seeing a survivor was to shoot them square between the eyes, and put them out of their misery. But, that was just him. “If you want to try and hunt for supplies, go ahead,” he instead spoke aloud. “But, at the moment, I doubt anyone here cares about they *need*, only about what they *want*. And, right now, what these people probably want is a place to *sleep*.”

“He’s got a point,” someone in the throng muttered. Several grunts of approval spread through the crowd, and soon, everyone was shuffling off to the nearest available space, searching for a bed.

Smirking triumphantly, Karter turned his gaze to Cas, whom remained steadfastly silent. “Let’s go and find a place to rest, shall we?”

“I’m going to scrounge for supplies,” the shorter man stated defiantly, stalking off to any nearby shops.

He was weak; too concerned with others’ opinions and wishes. Not leader material at all. He wondered if any of the people in the rag-tag group thought the same thing. He wouldn’t have been surprised.

“What’s up?”

Casting a slight glance over his shoulder, he caught sight of the scrawny girl he picked up a few minutes prior. Resisting the urge to snort, he calmly strode away into the dimly lit town, bypassing the various sickly refugees huddled next to each other.

Still, the girl refused to give up. “How’s it going?” she asked, scampering up beside him.

He continued forward, refusing to speak.

Coming to a halt, the girl—Yuffie, he thought her name was—put her hand on her petite hip; a strange sight when her left arm was hanging limply by her side for some reason. “Don’t you know it’s *rude* to ignore someone when they’re talking to you?”

“Shut up, brat, and leave the man alone,” another voice interrupted sternly.

Karter froze in mid-step, his dark gray eyes wide. He recognized that voice, somehow. Slowly turning, he laid eyes upon a hulking figure, with a gun for an—no. It couldn’t be. As the man neared, the fire-lit tail of the creature he had on his shoulders flickered near his face, and his entire world was sent into a spin of horror, amazement, and hatred.

“Hey, it’s not *my* fault the guy wasn’t talking to me,” Yuffie countered smugly, unaware of his presence.

“Ya started yappin’ in his ear. He had every right to ignore ya,” the man shot back.

Finally able to move his mouth, Karter glared at the terrorist mastermind whom was responsible for the deaths of his entire family. “Barret,” he hissed menacingly, drawing his weapon.

Yuffie’s eyes widened, watching the action commence. “Aw, *shit*.”

--There ya go!--

[Chris-chris]

I smell a battle coming! Intresting!:D :cool: :wave:

[Heaven's Soldier]

Now that's the sorta thing we like to see!!:D :D Keep it coming!! ;)

[SilverKnight]

--Working our way up the ladder...--

Barret frowned, glancing about suspiciously. He had a bad feeling about this place. The vibe he was getting was of too many people, too close together, carrying *way* too much of a grudge for his liking. Self-consciously, he felt the cool metal of his right arm brushing against his thigh as he trudged along, searching for any place that could have any restorative items. From the looks of things, though, it didn’t seem that Kalm had many—or any—supplies left to offer them.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed someone glaring at him, their round eyes narrowing as he passed.

Yup. He had a bad feeling about this place. And it wasn’t going away any time soon.

“Barret.”

His eyes snapped up in the direction of his name being said, and instantly noticed he was staring down the barrel of a Shinra-issued .22 automatic pistol, the shiny metal glinting dangerously in the dim light.

Dammit. He should’ve known it was only a matter of time before someone noticed him.

And, not surprisingly, the first mouth he heard shooting off was the brat’s.

“Aw, *shit*.”

Half of him wanted to punch her. With the gun arm. She wasn’t much of a ninja if she couldn’t keep her damn mouth shut. The other half overruled the idea, though, as he noticed the muscled figure distractedly turning to face her. Seeing his chance, he raised his right arm, aiming directly at his tanned head.

“Barret, no!” Red exclaimed, sinking his fangs into the leathery skin of his shoulder.

The bullets missed their target, dust and debris pluming upwards as he growled in pain, teetering to the ground. “*Ow*! Goddammit, Red!” he boomed as he dropped to one knee. Pushing himself into a run before the psycho in front of him could get a clean shot, he cried, “What da hell’d ya do *that* for?!”

“To keep you from damning yourself,” he replied matter-of-factly.

Never one to run from a fight, he ignored Red’s psychobabble, pivoting on his foot to face his attacker. Refugees scattered the open areas, scampering into alleyways and doorways for some possible cover. The enraged man turned his attention back to him, roaring as he unsuccessfully tried to aim through the stampede of panicked people.

Yuffie snapped out of her stupor, barreling towards him with her numb and useless shoulder. In a blink of an eye, she slammed into him, sending him careening into the ground. Before Barret the chance to take another shot at him, a small man with wild brown hair raced into the square, his bright green eyes wide with shock. He recognized him as the leader of the pack, Cas. The guy had guts, that was for sure. It wasn’t everyday that someone ran *into* a firefight. “Stop!” he shrieked, holding his pale arms out wide.

Lethargically, the inhabitants of Kalm came to a halt, their dirt-covered faces cautiously poking out of their hiding spaces which they still cowered in. With a flourish, Yuffie pried herself off of the prone gunman, who was currently lying on the ground, ‘mistakenly’ kicking him once in the side. Growling hatefully, the large man rose to his feet, waving off the attempts of help from Cas.

“Karter,” he exclaimed, “I heard gunshots, what happened?”

Karter’s dark eyes hardened in rage, his chiseled lips curling down unnaturally into a scowl. “*He* fired on me,” he hissed, nodding his head in Barret’s direction.

Slowly, everyone’s eyes fell to rest upon him. Inwardly, their piercing gazes sent his skin into a crawling frenzy, and his stomach into a dance routine. Outwardly, though, he was just pissed. “That was ‘cuz *he* pointed a gun at *me*!”

Cas’ eyes flitted from him to Karter’s, unbelieving. “Is this true?” he questioned to no one in particular, his posture expectant.

The night air was silent, the only sound prevailing being a small, blustering wind. His stomach flipped upside-down, a tingling sensation shooting down his leathery skin. No one had even uttered his name, and everyone already hated him. Not much of a confidence booster.

Resolutely, Yuffie stepped forward, her elfin face raised upward in determination. “I can vouch for him.”

“You want us to believe *you*?” the muscled man snapped.

“And why not?” she demanded.

“You attacked me without provocation!” he shouted, his face reddening in anger.

“You pulled a gun on him, that’s all the provocation I need,” she retorted, putting her hand on her hip.

Cas frowned, running his hand through his thick chocolate mane. “Alright, just tell me this, Karter. Why?”

Karter blinked, his posture betraying his surprise. “You mean, you don’t recognize him?”

Cas glanced between the two of them, furrowing his brows. “Sure, he seems a bit familiar, but what does that have to do with anything?”

Barret suppressed a groan, bracing himself for what was to come.

The surprise dissolved into anger and hatred, and it clearly showed in his voice. “That’s *Barret*. The leader of AVALANCHE.”

Gasps of shock wafted from the crowd, and the gentle wind swiftly became twenty degrees cooler, chilling him to the bone. Putting up a front of strength, he set his jaw, staring straight ahead as Karter casually strolled forward. “Why so silent? Aren’t you going to deny your charges?” he demanded.

“Wait,” Yuffie interrupted, stalking forward. “Since when did this become a trial?”

“Since all the courts were destroyed when Meteor hit,” Karter replied, glimpsing to Barret meaningfully.

“You never exactly told us what we’re charged with,” Red said calmly, attempting to be the voice of reason.

Karter smirked coldly, his gaze never wavering. “You want to know what you’re charged with, do you?” Stepping away, he pivoted on his heel, clasping his hands behind his back. “How about we start with murder?” Casting a glare over his shoulder, he began pacing around him, like a tiger circling its prey. “The murder of all those innocent people in Sector One.”

He remained silent, grinding his jaw.

“You have no proof—”

“Shut up, Red,” Barret declared quietly. “Ya don’t gotta defend me.”

“Or, how about the bombing in Sector Five, hm?” he hummed, almost jovially. “But let’s not forget the depraved act of destroying the Sector Seven pillar, murdering everyone in their sleep?” Karter persisted.

He blinked. “What?! We ain’t responsible for that!” he stated defiantly. “It was them godda—”

“Or, how about your worst crime of all,” Karter continued, unabated. “The calling of Meteor, with the intent of destroying everyone to make yourself a God.”

“What da hell you talkin’ ‘bout?!” he bellowed, his eyes wide. “We didn’t summon Meteor, we *stopped* it!”

“It’s true,” Red spoke. “It was Sephiroth that called Meteor; not us.”

Karter scowled. “Oh, please. If you’re going to lie, try to come up with something a little better than *that*. Sephiroth’s been dead for years.”

“I got *proof*,” he said, nodding to Yuffie. “You were wit us, Yuffie. Didn’t we stop Meteor?”

Karter glanced over his shoulder, his gray eyes locked onto her ebony ones. “You were in league with AVALANCHE?”

She stood there for several moments, her mouth agape. Barret couldn’t understand what she had to contemplate. She helped save the *world*. She seemed pretty damn adamant about it on the Highwind, before it nose-dived into the ground. What was her problem now?

To his shock, and confusion, she mutely shook her head, melting back into the crowd.

“Yuffie!” he barked angrily. “Goddammit, brat! Tell ‘em da truth!”

Karter nodded sagely, coming to a halt in front of him. “So, then, it’s true.”

Barret snarled, struggling to hold himself in place. “You gonna regret this! I got *friends*, ya know!”

“Things like you have *friends*?” Karter snapped, disgusted.

Growling, Barret stalked forward, jabbing his one hand into Karter’s shoulder. “Jes you look right here, bitch. I dunno what da hell crawled up *your* ass, but I don’t gotta deal wit this shit! I *didn’t* destroy da Sector Seven pillar, and I sure as *hell* didn’t call Meteor!”

Karter frowned, his face suddenly impassive. “Fine then,” he stated coldly. “Prove it.”

“How da hell am I gonna prove it if ya ain’t gonna listen to me?!” Barret retorted. Shaking his head, he sighed. “Look, I don’t got time for this bullshit. I got friends—“ He gave Yuffie a glare. “—I need ta help.” Glancing around to the mob of angry faces, he added, “And I know I ain’t gettin’ it here.” He turned to leave.

“You’ll never leave this town alive,” Karter hissed threateningly.

Barret whirled around, his face explosive. “’Scuse me? What da hell you jes say ta me?”

At some point, a gun materialized in Karter’s strong hand, aiming directly at his head. “I’ll kill you before I allow you to hurt other innocent people.”

“Bitch, try it.”

As Karter opened his mouth to speak, Cas stepped in front of him, interjecting him with, “How about this. You stay here tonight, and tomorrow we’ll convene a hearing—”

He snorted. “A ‘hearing’. That a fancy word for ‘death sentence’?”

“It’s either that, or his way,” Cas stated flatly, nodding back towards the snarling gunman.

Barret paused, taking in his surroundings, and noticing for the first time a small tear-stained face peeking through the crowd.

Marlene.

Dear God, she’d heard everything. How could he explain it to her if he left again? Or shot someone right in front of her? Sighing, he nodded. “Aight. I’ll do it yer way.”

Karter huffed, shaking his head wearily. “I guess I’ll have to play by the rules, too, huh?” he quipped, putting his gun away. Nodding to two larger people in the crowd, he directed them to Barret. “Are you two from Kalm?”

They nodded silently.

“Good,” he answered. “Put him in the strongest cell here.”

Barret glared at him. “What?”

“You still stand accused, Wallace,” he sneered. “And, according to Shinra law, it’s guilty until proven innocent.”

“I don’t see no damn Shinra suits here!” Barret retorted, his dark eyes flaring in fury.

Cas sighed wearily, rubbing his eyes with his slender fingers. “Well, we’re still under Shinra jurisdiction. Unless, of course, you have any *better* ideas.”

“Yeah. How ‘bout innocent ‘til proven guilty, for once?” he declared.

“Not in this world,” Karter growled, turning away.

“Goddamn Shinra bastards…” Barret muttered, begrudgingly following the two hulking figures in front of him. As the led him through the town, he heard the various things screamed at him, the words pelting at him like a harsh winter rain.

“Murderer!”

“Terrorist!”

“Monster!”

He let the façade of bravado crumble, and his face fell in sadness and regret. Marlene must have been there the whole time, as they said the most horrible things about him, degrading his name and his honor in the worst ways. And, unfortunately, they were right. He didn’t regret fighting for the Planet’s sake. If he were faced with the same choices, he’d do it all over again.

Still, he wasn’t proud of the fact that he killed innocent people. Nor was he proud of the fact that he was forced to hide in the shadows like a coward in order to survive. Most of all, he wasn’t proud of the fact that his daughter would some day have to learn about what he did, and accept it. Or worse yet, hate him for it. It was frightening to think of what he’d done to those people out there, because of his cause.

It was frightening to think of what he’d done to his daughter, because of his cause.

He was snapped back to reality as he was lightly pushed into the dank cellar of the local item store, the only light source coming from a small—conveniently barred—window on the farthest wall. He was led down the stairwell, and listened disinterestedly as he heard the door above slam shut, the scratching sound of something heavy being pushed in front of it.

Tomorrow was his day of reckoning.

His day of reckoning coming in the form of the very people he saved.

He *knew* he had a bad feeling about this place.

--There ya go!--

[Chris-chris]

I had a bad feeling about that place too. ;P Very good, still has its touch!:D

[Heaven's Soldier]

That's it SilverKnight, just keep it coming, and you'll be back to where you were before the worm virus struck, in no time!

By the way, that was another brilliant section to your story!

[SilverKnight]

--Bwaha, I come bearing (old/stale-->smack<) gifts! It's three in the morning, cut me some slack. :D--

Hero of the Day

***

“Don’t want your hate, but the fist I make for you still no fear…
…No, not on me, so please excuse me while I tend to how I feel.”

--Metallica, “Hero of the Day”

***

Part VI

***

Okay, so she was young. Big whup. She’d been young her entire life; she’d learned to bypass it, and use it to her advantage. And, okay, so she was naïve. That left with age, right? After all, Cid was twice her age, and he seemed wise—or, about as wise as a stubborn goat like him could get. And, okay, so what if she was linked to a terrorist organization…

Holy shit. She was linked to a terrorist organization.

Her face fell. That was *so* not good for her rep. Not to mention her pride and honor. Among other things.

For a moment, as she watched Barret led away deeper into the center of the town, she was furious. How could they have left all that out? How could they have not told her that they’d killed innocent people before?

Yuffie rolled her eyes theatrically. Right, like walking up and saying, “Hey, I blew up a building, and a pillar, killing thousands for my own benefit,” would have been a real great icebreaker.

Still, she mused, frowning, she never even had a *clue*. For the first time, she noticed two or three of the straggling hecklers glaring accusatorily at her, their hate filled eyes scorching her inwardly. In response, she made a silly face at them, promptly scaring them off. “Weirdo town…” the shinobi muttered, trudging off into the shadows.

She used her years of knowledge in martial arts and diminutive stature to disappear into the throng of people, her mind whirling. She’d first heard about the attacks in the bar in Costa Del Sol—she couldn’t quite remember the name, given the fact that she wound up completely hammered during every trip to it—and in her drunken stupor believed they deserved everything they got. So, it meant nothing to her that they were killers. In fact, had she met them then, the thief would have most likely cheered them on, shaking their hands gleefully.

Times had changed, though, and so had she.

The waif of a girl forced her way through the crowd, repressing a convulsive shudder as she reminisced upon her cold-heartedness. By spending time with Cloud and the others, she quickly learned that such differences meant nothing. Especially when there was a giant meteor hurtling towards them. Ironic, that those who taught her such morals were ones that thoughtlessly took life for…what reason?

Impulsively, the teenager changed direction, plodding through a dirtied alley towards the direction of Barret, not noticing as the refugees who lined the walls scurried away from her like she carried the plague. She should have seen it coming a mile away. After all, the news reports said that they were AVALANCHE, and even Cloud himself told her who they were. The fact that she never put two and two together made her want to vomit. But then, so did the idea of her trusting her life with them. And *then*, so did the idea of turning on them so quickly. Not defending your friends in their time of need was dishonorable, and even though she rarely paid attention to the old man as he droned on, a few of his lessons stayed with her, despite her constant attempts to rid herself of his influence.

She snorted. How melodramatic of her.

Squeezing in between the town’s protective barricade and the massive foundation of the pavilion, she came to a halt. The buildings sprawled across a large upraised level of granite, the shadows of the shops that loomed several feet above her falling into the small crevice, swallowing everything in complete darkness. She loved the dark, but with the rough town wall on one side of her, and the granite slab on the other, Yuffie began to feel distinctly claustrophobic. The small thief fought down the urge to turn tail and run.

She crouched low to the ground, stealthily closing the small distance between her and the rough stone side, mindful of the fact that she was most likely being watched by Karter. Noticing the wall was dotted with small barred windows, she took another step forward, cobwebs blanketing her face as she neared. She heatedly swore to herself as she ripped them off with her one hand, the thin threads stubbornly stuck to her eyelids.

“*Told* ya you spent too much damn time wit Cid.”

“What the—” she started, whirling around. In doing so, her face became victim of another spider’s web, only this time, the spider decided to come along for the ride. Secretly terrified of the eight-legged monsters, the ninja shrieked, frantically batting at her face, all the while hopping around into rotted crates and broken potion bottles rowdily.

“Shh! Quiet, kid! Ya attractin’ attention!” the disembodied voice whispered harshly, as she ran about.

“GetitoffgetitoffGETITOFF!” Yuffie wailed, whipping her head around at a dizzying speed.

“Kid, shut da fu—“

Finally, after shamelessly proclaiming her helplessness, she smacked the spider free, and hastily backed away. “I *HATE* SPI—“

Before she could finish her tirade, a massive hand clamped down over her mouth, forcefully pushing her into the granite, the coarse stone biting into her exposed shoulder. “Kid,” he growled, “you musta made one *hell* of a crappy ninja, ‘cause ya can’t stay quiet worth *shit*.”

Her reply was muffled by Barret’s hand. Rolling her eyes, she smacked his hand lightly, indicating that he should let go. On cue, his muscled arm snaked its way back through the bars, the light tapping on the other side telling her she should ‘get to the point’. Quickly, the she repeated herself. “Didn’t you know? I’m the ass-kicking type of ninja, not the silent one.”

“Picked a helluva time ta start *bein’* one,” Barret snapped.

Her eyes went wide, and she shrugged. “Come on, what was I *supposed* to do?”

“How ‘bout not backstabbin’ me?” he retorted angrily.

Yuffie shook her head wearily, forcing down the scowl that wanted to rise on her face. “Look, I didn’t know what was going on, okay? One second, you’re the guy that helped me save the world—“ She ignored a disgusted snort from the makeshift cell, “—and the next, you’re some terrorist who blew up a reactor.”

“I ain’t gonna deny what I did,” the rebel stated solemnly. “Those reactors were suckin’ life da outta the planet. You *know* that, kid.”

“So, what, you automatically expected me to just jump up and say, ‘Yeah, I helped blow up a bunch of people’?” she huffed, losing the battle on the scowl. Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and she stabbed her finger into empty air. “And since we’re on the subject of being *silent*,” the girl spat accusatorily, “what’s up with the whole ‘terrorist’ thing, anyway? Why the hell didn’t you guys tell me any of this?”

“We thought ya *knew*,” he replied defensively. “And, ‘sides, it don’t matter what we did anyway. S’all inna past.”

“Murder’s *never* all in the past,” the ninja snapped, her eyes ablaze.

“An’ who the hell are *you* ta be talkin’ ‘bout *my* shit in the closet, huh?” Barret snarled. “*You* were da one who decided ta ditch *us* for yer own bony ass. So, if you come lookin’ for answers, too goddamn bad, ‘cause I ain’t givin’ ya *shit*.”

“Look, Barret,” Yuffie sighed, changing tactics. She could always grill it out of him later. “I didn’t ditch you or Red, okay? I was only doing it so—“

“Go away, brat,” he snapped harshly. “I don’t talk ta traitors.” She heard heavy footsteps waft from the small barred window.

She thought about sticking around, anyway, and telling him off, just because she felt like it. After several moments, though, she decided against it, and stalked off. How could they have thought she’d known? The first time she’d met them was while they were wandering the forests outside of Junon for potions and food. She could still remember the first time she saw Barret, that big moron, cussing up a storm because he hated trees, and the bugs that came with them. And he tried to say *she* made a lot of noise. At least she didn’t swear as much as he did—

Yuffie froze, her back ramrod straight, her almond eyes focused straight ahead. She *knew* she just heard something. And it sounded too big to be a rat. Well, she corrected herself, it was too big to be a *rodent*, at least. Rats came in all sizes.

Cautiously, she relaxed her stance slightly, her thin lips curling into an annoyed frown. “Whoever you are, you can come out now,” she called flatly, tapping her tennis shoe on the floor impatiently.

Seconds passed before a shadow hesitantly detached from the mouth of the alley, taking the shape of a small, weary man. Not being able to pin his face at first, her ebony eyes traveled up and down his barely lit form. He was taller than her, perhaps Cloud’s height, with a long mane of thick brown hair that was tied back by some sort of string. What wasn’t held back fell out in small clumps, long brown streaks framing his pale, angular face. His clothes were in poor condition, his long padded jacket covered in dust and torn at the shoulder. The thick green shirt and mahogany colored slacks faired no better. The only thing about the ensemble that seemed relatively intact was his dirtied suede work boots. He noticed her scrutinizing gaze, and cleared his throat quietly, his eyes falling to the ground momentarily. “Hello,” he said, awkwardly.

While the raven-haired shinobi couldn’t pinpoint his appearance, she could definitely pinpoint his soft, melodic voice. “Cas,” she greeted coldly, glaring at him. If she were able to, she would have crossed her arms. For the fourteenth time, she cursed her failure to find any sort of curative materia to solve that problem. Some damn thief she was. Hm, maybe she *was* starting to act like Cid… “Why were you spying on me?”

“I wasn’t ‘spying’ on you,” he shot back, his voice defensive. “At least, not intentionally, at first. With the racket you made, you could have easily wakened the dead.”

The petite ninja simply frowned, not caring to reply to his comment.

Casting a shaky glance over his sloping shoulder, he strode forward until he was an arm’s length away from her. “So, I take it that you *are* a part of AVALANCHE,” Cas stated, his voice firm.

“No,” she instantly declared, pausing to gather her thoughts. “Well…at least…not the one that psycho Karter was babbling about.” She sighed, annoyed that she could never seem to ever give anyone a straight answer when it truly counted. “I mean…when I went with them originally, it was just so I could steal their materia later, but…”

“They forced you to stay,” he offered.

Her ebony eyes shot up to his, shocked. “No!” She shrugged half-heartedly. “In fact, there were a couple times that they tried to kick me out,” Yuffie answered honestly, a lopsided grin on her face. “What I was going to say was that they sort of…grew on me. They’re good people. Really.” The teenager fell silent, searching her companion’s face for any sympathy, and wasn’t surprised when she found none. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

His stoic mask fell seconds after the words left her lips, and his cold green eyes flared with the intensity of the sun. “I have no reason to. Barret himself said that he blew up the Sector One and Sector Five reactors. How many innocent people did he kill by doing that?”

“How many people did Shinra kill a day to keep those things going?” she retorted, stunned by the passion of her own voice.

“Well, if you have any evidence to refute it, I’m listening,” Cas spoke matter-of-factly, crossing his arms, the thick leather fabric of his coat hanging loosely from his wrists.

Yuffie held back the urge to just collapse in front of him. One minute, she was grilling Barret, and the next she was defending him. It was just too weird. “Look, I know how bad it seems. I’m pretty pissed about it, myself. But, I know him, and I know them. If he did something, he did it for a good reason. And destroying a pillar doesn’t sound like him.”

“And calling Meteor?” the spindly man prompted.

She harrumphed, shaking her head. “Are you *cracked*? No!”

Cas frowned, stress lines forming on his pale skin. “How do you know?”

“Because I was *there*,” Yuffie answered definitely, jabbing her thumb in her chest. “It wasn’t us. Plus, even if it *was*, how would we be able to? We were all in prison in Junon when Meteor was called.”

For the first time since he arrived, his hard glare softened, his taut face muscles falling in shock. “Are you…” Cas murmured, his eyes darting about wildly. “Wait, you’re *right*. I remember President Shinra stating that he was going to televise the public execution…!” His emerald eyes went wide, his posture shifting to compensate for the new knowledge that was obviously throwing him off kilter. “But how…? Why would Shinra lie to us?”

“Because,” Yuffie began, “they couldn’t have said that their prize General who had been dead for five years went off the deep end and called Meteor. Wouldn’t exactly be good for their rep.”

“You’re joking, right?” the taller man snorted, his face contorted in disbelief. She shook her head silently. “Are you trying to tell me that General Sephiroth was the one that called Meteor?” The ninja nodded gravely, her hair flopping into her face as she did so. “That sounds…insane. It’s too crazy to be true.”

“It’s too crazy to be a lie,” she countered flatly, her expression dull. “And deep down, you know that.”

“No, I don’t,” Cas huffed, his brows furrowed in annoyance. “Tell me, even if Sephiroth *did* somehow manage to survive, and remain hidden for five years, why would he call Meteor?”

“You’d have to ask *him*,” she retorted, non-plussed. “The guy was nuts; crazy, round the bend, three Prozacs short of a bottle, wacko! He thought he was an Ancient, and that some giant squid thing was his mother! I mean, come on!”

Cas’ eyes narrowed, glowering at her petite form skeptically. “…You’re serious, aren’t you?” he answered, slowly.

“Believe me,” she began, her brows raised in a strangely youthful expression, “I’d never tell this unless I had to. I’d be put in the happy shack for life. And I hate straight jackets.”

The spindly man continued to stare at her, more stray strands of brown hair cascading over his narrowed green eyes. She noted his posture was that of a coiled spring; he was ready to bolt off and give her away at any given moment, and the only thing he needed was an excuse. Silently, she begged him not to, because if he did, her plan would go down the tubes. She had to save Red and Barret, if for nothing else than to explain what exactly what happened at the Sector Seven pillar. Quietly, Cas spoke, “Are you willing to tell the others this?”

Blinking, she snapped back to reality. Pausing for a moment, Yuffie dropped her gaze to the ground, running the two choices through her mind. Yesterday, if she had been given these choices, she would have instantly proclaimed his innocence, the consequences be damned. Now, though, she found herself a bit more ambivalent if that action would be the smartest one. Her sharp ninja eyes slowly rose to meet his, hoping to find some clue of what to do from his facial expression. “What do you think?” she asked softly, careful to keep the trademark sardonic attitude out of her voice.

The weary man opened his mouth to speak, but remained silent, his posture thoughtful. After several seconds, he sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping in resignation. “I don’t know, to tell you the truth. Even if you *did* tell the others, I doubt they would listen to you. Given the fact that you lied to them, they wouldn’t believe a word you said.” He shrugged half-heartedly, his long ponytail swishing slightly with the effort. “And, besides, your story doesn’t sound exactly…”

“Sane?” she supplied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I was going to use truthful, actually,” he answered, blinking, “but I suppose sane would work, too.”

The petite shinobi gaped at him, her raven eyes wide with disbelief. “Why are you helping me?”

Again, Cas’ eyes hardened, a dark cloud settling over him. “I lost friends in the Sector Seven attack. I want the person who made such a hateful assault to be brought to justice. But, I don’t want anyone to be convicted wrongly of the crime. It would solve nothing in the end.”

She fell silent. His focus, like the others on the Highwind only a day or so prior, was focused inward, and Yuffie didn’t want to interrupt him.

Finally, at length, he pulled out of his cocoon of thought, and rejoined her in the alley. “I doubt this question will make any difference, but if you are a part of AVALANCHE, why did you lie?”

She pursed her lips, sucking in a deep breath. “At first, it was only a reaction to what was being told. Out of instinct, I lied, to protect myself.” He frowned in disapproval, slight worry lines forming where they shouldn’t have at his age. “But, since I’m in this position, I figured that I might as well make the best of it, and use this time free to contact the others and give them the heads up of the situation.” Yuffie shrugged, hoping she didn’t look like a moron in doing so. “Stupid, I know, but there’s no point in me beating myself up for it now. The only thing I can do is make the best of it.”

Cas slowly nodded in agreement, before he whipped his head around nervously, his green eyes darting about the nearby square. “I’d better go,” he murmured. Turning back around, he asked, “Are you going to tell the townspeople this?”

Resolutely, the ebon-haired teenager shook her head. “Why waste time telling them what we both know they won’t believe? Plus, it puts me in danger.” A cocky smile formed on her thin lips, a resilient glow shining in her dark eyes. “Believe me, by the time that ‘trial’ thing happens tomorrow morning, the only thing you’ll have to do is sit and watch the fireworks.” She waggled her eyebrows dramatically, emphasizing her point.

Silently, he acknowledged her comment, swiftly moving off into the seemingly deserted square. The grin still adorning her face, the thin shinobi made her way carefully out of the small alley, her hawk eyes searching for any place that she could sleep for the night. She pivoted on her heel, preparing to recheck what she had missed, when her eyes caught the retreating figure of someone who, moments ago, was only standing feet from her and Cas—

Her eyes widened, the insinuation dawning on her. The figure dared to take a glimpse over his broad shoulder, his cold gray eyes focusing on her for but a moment. Her face paled.

“Karter,” she gasped.

--There ya go!--

[Weiila]

Looking good as always, Silver! :D Though those cliffhangers are killing... even if I've already read more *laughs*

[SilverKnight]

--Yippie ki-yay, or something.--

Goddammit, he hated being selfless.

Cid swore at himself. Why the hell did he open his big mouth and volunteer to carry Spike? He halfheartedly wished that he had just ditched the ex-SOLDIER back at the crash site and let him fend for himself. But *no*, he had to appease Tifa, who had pulled out all the stops by getting all teary-eyed around him. He swore again; he hated to see people cry, and especially women. Damn her.

He scrounged in the remains of his jacket, praying to some higher being that one of his cigarettes could have happened to survive the crash. He swore yet again when his hand came up empty. He needed a damn cigarette, or else he was going to go insane. His withdrawal headache, coupled with the persistent throbbing of his wound, was putting a great deal of strain on his already short—and thinning—patience.

Feeling like he was about to pass out at any moment didn’t exactly help matters, either.

“Is Cloud awake yet?” Tifa asked quietly, casting a worried glance over her shoulder.

“Nah,” Cid huffed in return, stopping and shifting the unconscious mercenary on his shoulder before continuing. “Believe me, Teef, the sec he’s awake, you’ll know, ‘cause I’m droppin’ his scrawny ass. He’s really damn heavy.”

She slowed her pace, coming up beside him, her thin lips curling up into a wry grin. “Is that so?”

“Well, yeah,” he retorted, swallowing the thread of vulgar words that threatened to pour out as Cloud’s limp arm smacked into his tender and swollen side. “’Sides, all of his goddamn armor ain’t helpin’ much, either—“

As if on cue, the ex-SOLDIER started to rouse from his slumber, his previously limp muscles tensing and going taut. The first muscle that seemed to do so, much to the weary pilot’s chagrin, was his right arm, which slammed into his ribs with an impressive amount of force for a half-dead guy. On reflex, he swore like a sailor, quite literally grabbing the dazed and confused blond by the arms and hurling him headlong into the ground, seconds later collapsing, his energy spent.

Tifa blinked, her mind failing to exactly register what took place mere inches from her. She blinked again, her eyes going wide, and she exclaimed in shock, diving into the lush strands of grass to nurse Cloud back into consciousness.

The pilot frowned, and contemplated throwing his arms up in exasperation, realizing seconds later that he was too damn tired.

Lethargically, Cloud opened his bright blue eyes, his gaze resting on Tifa, whom had so kindly decided to place his head on her lap. Cid wanted to puke. “Mornin’, Spike,” he jibed, his rough voice dulled by fatigue. “Sleep well?” The lanky blond merely blinked, clearly still lost somewhere in La-La Land. The gruff pilot harrumphed, regretting it seconds later. “Ya damn well better have,” he muttered heatedly, “I carried ya the whole damn way.”

Cloud’s eyes lazily rolled from the left to the right, closing seconds later. “…Comfy pillow…”

Cid didn’t resist the disgusted snort that escaped his lips; opting to use what strength he had left to pull his bruised and exhausted legs out from underneath his equally sore rump. After shifting and swearing, he finally settled in a semi-lying position; propping himself up on his elbows, his legs crossed in front of him in faux non-chalance. Giving into his overwhelming tiredness, his body sagged into the ground, his smoky eyes closing as he sighed deeply.

Tifa finally looked up from the man currently residing on her thighs, her dark chocolate gaze washing over his beaten form. “You don’t look so good, Cid,” she stated, her feathery voice weighted down by concern.

“Gee, ya think so?” he snapped quickly, hoping his standoffish attitude would dissuade her, but his voice lacked the searing heat of a true Cid Highwind-worthy retort. He couldn’t really stay angry with Tifa for that long, anyway. She was as sweet as a button. When he first met her, after admiring her more physical qualities like all men before him, he thought that she couldn’t hurt a fly. Which is why it surprised the hell out of him that she was a martial artist, and moreover, one trained by Zangan. From that moment on, he made a point to not to get on her bad side; for fear that he’d end up as a pretzel.

Cloud lived a dangerous life, snuggling up to Tifa like he did. But, then, he always *did* think Spike was a few cans short of a six-pack.

He blinked, snapping back to reality. “Ya may be right, Teef,” he mumbled, furrowing his brows. The blond pilot gingerly brought his hand to his side, brushing away the remnants of his coat to get a clear view of just how bad the damage was. His eyes washed over the sopping wet scarf, noting with a frown that his entire left side was now smeared with sticky, warm blood.

And it was only going to get worse.

Tifa winced, her dark eyes narrowing in pain and sympathy for him. “That looks really bad,” she stated, unable to keep the revulsion out of her voice.

He harrumphed darkly, which quickly morphed into a drawn out hack. “It started out bad,” he replied matter-of-factly, his voice strained, scratching painfully at the back of his throat. For the lack of anything better to do, his smoky blue eyes zeroed in on the crimson-soaked cloth. He watched with a sort of morbid curiosity as the dark ruby continually overtook the pale off-white, strand by tiny strand. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he continued to gaze at his wound, transfixed. So this is what dying was like…

“Cid?”

The pilot jumped minutely, the sharp pain causing him to refocus on reality. While he seemed simply annoyed by her interruption, inside he was becoming increasingly apprehensive. What the hell just happened? He couldn’t start zoning out; he had too much to do. And the last thing he needed was more blood on his hands. “Yeah, what is it?” he snapped, his jaw muscles rolling in sync with the continually more frequent spasms of pain.

The brunette merely stared at the long streaks of wet crimson that marked the side of his shirt and his soiled skin, her face still holding that look of abject disgust about it. He couldn’t say he blamed her. “I think it just went to worse,” she declared, finally tearing her eyes away from his wound, staring down at the semi-coherent Cloud. “And, I don’t want to think of what comes after it,” she muttered quietly.

Cid snorted again, fighting back the grunt of pain that the slight movement brought with it. “Ain’t nothin’ good, that’s for damn sure.” Refusing to look at the bleeding gash on his side again, he brought his gaze to the blanket of darkness around him. Even with his Shinra training, it was impossible to actually tell where they were. Since they’d set out, the only distinguishing mark he’d managed to find was that the three of them was now trudging thigh-deep in grass.

If it weren’t for the fact that he was currently bleeding to death, he would have probably enjoyed the scenery.

Sighing tiredly, he closed his eyes for a second.

The next thing he knew he was lying on the ground, with Tifa’s face hovering above him, concern etched on her pale features. The pilot blinked blearily, his chiseled lip twitching. Her hair was also tickling his face. “Cid?” she asked quietly, her voice hopeful. “Cid, can you hear me?”

“I ain’t deaf,” he grunted, painfully rising to a sitting position. “How long was I out?”

She shrugged uncertainly, frowning. “Five, ten minutes, maybe.” Her bruised shoulders rose and fell in a resigned sigh. “Cid, you can’t keep going like this for much longer.”

The pilot scowled deeply, partly from the pain, and partly from her nagging. He was stubborn, and often refused help from others, but it had just become all too clear to him that he was going from worse to disastrous. If he didn’t get medical attention soon, he was wasn’t going to be able to make to Kalm at all. “I know that,” he hissed lowly, fighting back a wave of nausea. “I ain’t stupid, either.”

Her eyes dimmed momentarily, falling silent. “We shouldn’t worry, though,” she offered, her voice somewhat hopeful. “Yuffie said she’d backtrack and give us whatever supplies we need.”

The blond held back the swell of hatred for the petite ninja. He probably shouldn’t have trusted her, especially not with his life. But, what choice did he have? “Damn well better,” he grumbled, more to himself than to his companion feet away from him. “I ain’t got no other choice, now.”

Tifa blinked, furrowing her thin brows in determination. Sucking in a deep breath, she sat up straighter, crossing her sliced arms across her torn and dirtied tank top. “I could go to Kalm, you know. It’s not like I haven’t done it before.”

“Nah,” he huffed immediately, shaking his head. “Ain’t worth it. Plus, what if Spike suddenly decided to wake his scrawny ass up and follow ya? I’d probably have to listen to his crap about how he ‘couldn’t believe I let her go by herself,’ or whatever bullshit he usually spouts when he’s worried ‘bout ya.”

Tifa’s arms fell from her chest, startled. “He’d really say that?”

Cid nodded slowly, watching with some amount of amusement as her pale cheeks turned a healthy beet red from embarrassment. “Oh yeah,” he replied, smirking, “for all his crossed wires, Spike here can’t stand to watch ya do stuff on your own that could get ya killed.” He paused for a moment, his smoky eyes falling to semi-conscious leader of their troupe. “But, to defend the ol’ mother hen, I can’t blame him.”

Her thin eyebrow rose in curiosity, her dark eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh? And is that because you men think I’m not *capable* of doing anything on my own?”

He snorted at the thought, smacking his lips for a moment as if he had a cigarette in his mouth. Damn, he needed one. “If I’da thought that, I would’ve straight out *told* ya, and you know that.” She grudgingly nodded in agreement. For the first time in what felt like ages, he smirked deviously. “’Sides, ya could whoop my ass in no time flat. Ain’t no way I’d wanna get on yer bad side by sayin’ yes.”

Tifa chuckled heartily, the sound echoing in the silence of the plains. Cid had to admit, when watching her youthful face light up in excitement, or noticing her concern for everyone around her, Cloud had picked a damn good woman. God, he felt old. Now, if either of them could just *act* on that…

For the second time tonight, it seemed as if Cloud had read his thoughts. Sluggishly, the lanky mercenary rolled onto his side, his bright azure eyes half-closed and glazed over. He looked like hell. Cid wondered if he looked quite as bad. “Mornin’ Spike,” he echoed dryly. “Have a nice n—“

Almost too quick for his eyes to follow, the ex-SOLDIER snapped awake, his eyes wide and alert, and rolled to his knees. “…You hear that?” he ground out, his voice thick with fatigue.

He furrowed his brows, straining his ears to listen to the silent spring evening. “Hear wh—“

His mouth snapped shut, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. The soft sound of crunching grass wafted through the cool winds. And, from the sounds of it, whoever or whatever was responsible for it was a *lot* bigger than Yuffie.

A part of Cid was jealous of the spikey-haired soldier; he just woke up from a half-dead stupor, and he was *still* more alert than he was. He shoved the thought out of his head as he slowly made his way to his feet, his blood-caked glove clumsily grasping the metal shaft of his hand-made spear, having lost the Venus Gospel—and every other weapon he owned—in the mountain of metal debris.

Under normal circumstances, the monsters in this area posed no threat to him, or anyone else on their team, having grown too strong and fast for the dog-like creatures to even lay a scratch on them before they were beheaded. These circumstances, however, were far from normal. His dark blue eyes shot over to Tifa for an instant, gauging her health condition. She could probably hold her own—not to mention theirs—but he wasn’t about to let her go into the fight alone.

Forcing the exhaustion from his body by sheer will alone, the gruff pilot stood in a defensive stance, his smoky eyes darting from point to point, scanning the darkness intently for the cause of the quiet sound. Whatever it was must have become aware that others were around, because the only noise Cid heard was the rapid thumping of his heart in his chest.

He caught the remnants of a lithe shadow dashing to his left, before it melted back into the suffocating blackness that seemed to clutch to his very clothing. Suppressing the urge to swear, he desperately tried to zero in on its location again, using every bit of military and instinctual knowledge at his disposal.

And he was getting nowhere fast.

He glanced over to Cloud, his shoulder hunched forward slightly in weariness as he stood with his fists in the air. The blond took a moment to wonder if he was as good in hand-to-hand combat as he was with his sword. He doubted it.

Cid noted his posture and what he could see of his facial expression, figuring that Spike hadn’t caught sight of their stalker. He peeked at the buxom martial artist standing shoulder to shoulder with Cloud, noticing that her deep brown eyes were also scanning the area around them wildly, almost desperately.

“There!” Tifa stated, whirling around. “I just saw it!”

Cloud repeated the gesture, although he didn’t do it nearly as gracefully. “Where? I don’t see it.”

Cid grimaced, casting a quick look over his shoulder, seeing only oppressive darkness. He was starting to feel very claustrophobic for some reason. Barely a second had passed before he spotted something moving in the night, before it whispered back into the shadows. “Damn, this thing’s faster than hell,” he muttered, annoyed at his own sluggishness, and at the shadow’s persistence to remind him of it.

It was then that he came to a startling conclusion, blinking in surprise. “Ain’t no monster ‘round here’s this goddamn fast,” he declared flatly. “*Or* this quiet.”

He didn’t have to see the lanky blond to know he was frowning in confusion. “If it’s not a monster, then what is it?” he hissed quietly, his impatience evident.

The pilot’s jaw tightened in determination, ready for a fight, and his injuries be damned. “Ain’t nothin’ good,” he growled, a fire sparking in his smoky blue eyes, “and that’s for *damn* sure.”

--There ya go!--

[Heaven's Soldier]

Okay that group seriuosly look like they need some help, they had better get it soon, or their done for, before they've even gone anywhere!!

Anyway great story, and keep it coming SilverKnight!!:D

[Weiila]

Oooh, cliffhangers :) Mwahaha... looking good, Silver!

[Chris-chris]

Keep it coming!! I like it!:D

[wingnut]

*grabs a pillow and hides under it* Jeez, I've been doing a lot of hiding lately... Still, I agree, 'tis a wondrous story.

[SilverKnight]

--Sorry about the delay. I was battling a stinkin' head cold for the past few days, so I really wasn't in the state of mind to be making updates. Unless of course you wanted to be reading mindless jibberish. >thinks< Oh. Nevermind. :)--

Hero of the Day

***

“Crack of dawn, all is gone except the will to be…
…Now they will see what will be, blinded eyes to see.”

--Metallica, “For Whom the Bell Tolls”

***

Part VII

***

The Turks had been having a bad day.

Elena tripped over her feet for the seventh time in ten minutes. It was starting to become extremely annoying. Scowling, she came to a halt, hastily pulling off her sleek black high-heeled boots, chucking them off into the darkness with overdue glee.

And that was the *highlight* of her day.

The petite blonde shuddered as she thought back to where she stood a mere twenty-four hours prior. She and her comrades were standing in the middle of the slums of Midgar, as it was quite literally being ripped apart around their very feet. She was a Turk; she’d been used to being put in dangerous situations, but dodging jagged pieces of shrapnel the size of a car and trying to find some sort of cover, all while fighting not to be sucked up by the harsh tornados of fire was beyond anything she’d ever been trained for. If Reno and Rude hadn’t been there, she probably would’ve gone completely hysterical.

Then again, their attitude about the whole thing didn’t exactly help much, either.

“You guys wouldn’t have a drink, would you?” Reno shouted over the raging winds, hanging onto a bent lamppost, his blue jacket long since turned into ashes by the towering inferno that seemingly surrounded them.

Her jaw dropped, stray bits of dust and mortar flying into her open mouth. Spitting them out with a hack, she howled, “The city’s disintegrating around us, and you’re worried about your *liquor supply*?!”

He attempted to shrug, and nearly lost his grip on the buckling steel for his efforts. “Hey, if I’m gonna die,” he retorted, an almost psychotic lopsided grin on his face, “I at least wanna go down with a buzz!”

She shuddered again, shoving the thoughts out of her head. It was times like that that made her wonder why she ever trusted them at all.

The Turk twisted her head over her shoulder, past her torn white shirt, her bright blue eyes wandering aimlessly about the night that hovered around them. She’d always hated Midgar, for some reason. She couldn’t necessarily help it; she was used to more humane surroundings, spending most of her younger years living in the quiet country town of Kalm. Why her parents decided to move to a city with a reputation like *Midgar*, she’d never know. When she’d first arrived to the ‘big city’, it frightened her for a reason she couldn’t quite fathom.

The petite blonde soon found out she was right to fear it.

Her small family hadn’t even been there three weeks when they were robbed blind, beaten, and left to rot in their run down house. Luckily, though, a nearby police officer was nice enough to at least cordon their tiny little home off before any stray rapist from the slums could get a hold of her. That incident led the wiry teen to go to regular self-defense classes. Which led her to meeting Tseng, a sort of apprentice to the instructor. She never learned anything beyond that about their relationship, and after accompanying Tseng on one of his hits, the lithe woman never wanted to again.

The next few years passed as a blur of pain, despair, and frustration. She knew her parents died somehow, somewhere, but for the life of her, Elena couldn’t pinpoint the specifics. The next thing in her life she clearly remembered was begging Tseng to become a Turk; again, the true reason escaping her at the moment.

She blinked wearily, convincing herself that her sudden apathy for everything that should have mattered to her was due to exhaustion.

“Hey, Elena, stop dragging your feet and get up here,” Reno murmured huskily, his long red mane disheveled and matted down.

Frowning, she tiredly stomped up next to the tall Turk, earning a scowl in her direction. “What? What’d I do now?”

“Could you walk a little quieter?” he hissed, his azure eyes narrowed in barely-concealed contempt. “I thought heard something.”

“So?” she squawked, her frown degenerating into a scowl.

“Could be people,” he replied quickly, his bright blue eyes scanning the darkness. “We can get food easily enough; most of the monsters around here are easy enough to kill and cook. It’s water we have to worry about.”

She harrumphed in bitter amusement, her blonde brow quirking up slightly. “And here I thought you lived on liquor.”

He glowered down at her, his sculpted face strangely serious. “I’m not joking Elena. We can’t go on for much longer without some sort of water supply.” He paused, licking his dry lips. “And, besides, I need a drink,” he muttered, his eyes glazed over.

The Turk rolled her eyes at his far-off expression; no doubt he was imagining the joy of getting piss drunk in some dive off the coast of Junon. She wouldn’t have been surprised; the whole area was littered with them. Then again, when she actually looked at the city, she couldn’t blame them. Damn Reno for mentioning water; now all she could think about was how long it had been since she’d drank anything.

“Elena,” he huffed, “you’re zoning.”

Elena blinked, forcing herself back to reality. “Uh, sorry, Reno,” she answered hastily, covering her embarrassment by clearing her dry throat. “So, where to?”

Reno’s face twisted in thought for a moment, his fatigue becoming evident for barely a second. She quickly had to remind herself that he’d been up for over a day and a half, too. “Well,” he spoke; his tone hushed, “the marshlands have plenty of fresh water—“

She turned up her lips in disgust. “*Marsh* water? Ew!”

He stared at her, his expression blank. “Don’t knock marsh water; it’s a lot cleaner than you think. Marshes act as a sort of natural filter, so the water you’ll find there will probably be some of the purest water you can find.” The redhead shrugged impishly. “Outside of a water bottle, anyway.”

She actually found herself surprised at Reno; the only thing she thought he knew was how to get drunk.

He sighed heavily, digging his hands into his pockets. “Problem with that is, the marsh is a long walk from here, and we need some *now*.”

For the first time since they’d managed to escape the hell that was Midgar, Rude spoke up. “The sounds,” he whispered, nodding his bald head forward slightly, his unusually pale eyes focused on an unseen point in the blanket of darkness. “There’s someone nearby.”

Reno grinned happily, patting the slightly taller Turk on the head appreciatively, although the latter didn’t seem to think the same way. “Ah, Rude, my main man,” he chuckled happily, his eyes searching the darkness. “I always said you had ears like a bat.”

Rude sighed tiredly, his face suddenly appearing worn and haggard. “Great,” he replied unenthusiastically under his breath, lines forming around his frowning lips. Elena had never seen the man look so old before. She shook her head, telling herself he was just tired like she was.

Blinking out the sudden heaviness in her eyes, she pressed her lips into a thin line, eyeing her leader skeptically. “Okay, so what do you want us to do?”

He frowned in thought, his perfectly sculpted red brows furrowing in effort to get his energy-depleted brain to work in the fashion he wanted. From her point of view, it looked like he was so far unsuccessful. No surprise there.

She opened her mouth, hopefully to offer something of use, when she noted that both Reno and Rude’s body went rigid, their eyes focused directly over her shoulders. Her mouth snapped shut, gulping in anxiety. She knew that nothing good could possibly be behind her, judging from her partners’ wide-eyed, almost fearful look on their paled faces. Against her better judgment, she shifted her weight and began to turn around.

Then she felt the hot, steamy breath on the back of her neck, followed closely by a low, menacing growl.

Elena gulped again.

Nothing good. Nothing good at all.

Her eyes wide as saucers, she glared silently at Reno. His cerulean eyes darted between her and whatever was behind her wildly, his boyish features twisted in indecision. The moment passed quickly, though, and his face once again became impassive as he shrugged at her, smirking weakly.

Elena’s eyes, if possible, became wider, gaping at him incredulously. The thing behind her huffed in impatience, a plume of scorching air pelting her neck, her cropped blonde her swiping angrily at her chin. Despite herself, she began trembling at the foreboding presence behind her, closing her eyes from the fear and nausea it brought with it. Her breathing became shallow, quick, her heart racing in her chest.

She wasn’t sure if she imagined it, but she felt it loom closer to the nape of her neck, as if testing her resolve, to see if she were to suddenly dart off and run. Even though she wanted to run, dash as far away from this nightmare of an existence as possible, she was rooted in place, unable to even do the simplest—and the most prudent—of things; check her holster for any weapon.

Straining her senses, the blonde tried to will herself to see this creature that was behind her, just to know entirely what she was facing. (Or, not facing, as the case may have been.) Judging from the angle at which the breath hit her neck, the monster was definitely taller than her, and by a good foot, at least. Without her authorization, her imagination immediately took over, her mind’s eye making it to out to be a behemoth of a monster; complete with glowing red eyes, long, curling horns, and blood-stained fangs.

She heard a heavy sniffing, a gust of cold air brushing against the reddened skin of her neck, a chill running down the length of her spine. The situation was quickly becoming too intense to take; her finely honed senses were now on overload, her body visibly quaking with unbidden terror as she kept her eyes steadfastly closed. She wanted to scream, run around like a maniac, do anything but stand there and wait for some monster to decide whether it was going to make her dinner or not.

It exhaled one last time, shivering slightly in response, before its terrorizing presence disappeared altogether. The strangely distant echo of grass crunching beneath its large, heavy foot wafted through the silent night. Carefully, she strained her senses to their maximum, honing in on that single sound until all was quiet again.

“I think it’s gone,” Reno whispered, breaking the silence that seemingly reigned for so long in the darkness.

Slowly coming out of her self-induced state of shock, she opened her eyes to be greeted by a heavy blanket of darkness. Despite the fact that the blonde was aware of standing in the middle of a huge field, her heart continued to thump in her chest as the feeling of claustrophobia began to descend upon her. Shaking her head, her short hair swaying in her face, she took a deep breath, willing her body to stop shaking. “Well, that went well,” she muttered, her voice wavering from the fear that lingered in her veins.

Sluggishly, the outlines of Reno and Rude began to take shape amid the veil of night, much to her relief. That relief soon melted into annoyance, and then anger. Seething at the tall redhead, she stalked through the cool grass, stopping inches from him. “And, when exactly were you planning on helping me out?” she hissed, her eyes flaring. “I could’ve been killed, you know!”

The lanky Turk pursed his thin lips thoughtfully, nodding. “Yeah,” he replied, deadpan. “But, then, it didn’t really seem to be doing anything. I decided to wait until I was sure it was going to eat you.”

“Nice to see you were worried about me,” she retorted angrily, her manicured finger jabbing into the soft cloth of his shirt. “I would’ve been *dead* by then.”

Reno shook his head, forming a slight grin. “Hey, it’s nothing personal, Elena,” he stated dully. “It’s just a matter of priorities. Attacking it wouldn’t have been worth it the risk.”

Her sapphire eyes widened, stepping back as if she’d been slapped. Even though half of her wanted to throw him to the beast, Elena still struggled not to take offense to his comment, hoping against hope that there was a rational reason for his rudeness. “Oh?” she questioned, feigning disinterest in his answer.

“Yeah,” he stated, sounding non-plussed. “I couldn’t have gone after you without provoking it, and then you would’ve been dead for sure.” He glared down at her, suddenly appearing much taller than normal. “So, don’t go flying off the handle for no reason.”

She bared her teeth in rage. “No reason?! Reno—“

Her comment died in her throat when a fearsome howl shattered the overwhelming silence, an all too familiar chill running up her spine. The control she was holding over her lithe body vanished, and her limbs once again shook in primal fear.

The lanky redhead noticed her reaction, and smirked halfheartedly. “Don’t worry, Elena,” he chided, “I don’t think it’s coming back for you.” His light eyes rose to a point somewhere in the darkness, his face disinterested as the strangled cries and startled orders echoed across the plains. “Looks like whatever it was just found a new meal.”

The lithe woman stared on as Reno turned his back on her, idly strolling away. For a split second, she was shocked at his blatant callousness, before reminding herself of his ‘I don’t give a shit’ mantra. The sounds of battle were carried through the slight wind, reaching her ears in a sickening cacophony of fear and determination. Despite the fact that was trained as an assassin, Elena was torn. She wanted to believe that there was a part of her that had managed to remain human, and that diminishing voice told her to help the others in danger, to hell with the risks.

“Don’t even think about it,” Reno chastised impassively, without breaking his pace. “The only thing you’ll do is get yourself killed.”

She pressed her rose lips into a thin line, sighing dejectedly as the voice was instantly squelched into silence. The redhead was right, as always. In the end, it all boiled down to what they could do to survive. And, risking life and limb with nothing to gain most definitely wasn’t worth it.

Another shriek split through the night, followed by a roar of anger. She shuddered again, glancing momentarily at Rude, whom hadn’t moved since the creature first appeared behind her.

Then, she watched with increasingly wide eyes as he darted off behind her, towards the raging battle. “Rude!” she exclaimed, more out of shock than to get his attention. Out of the corner of her eye, the Turk noticed as Reno whipped around in surprise, his lips curling down unnaturally into a frown.

Frowning herself, she decided to give chase, forcing her cold and half-numb legs to move her body into the impossibly thick darkness. Ignoring the fact that her lanky superior was ordering her to stop, she raced on after Rude, determined to see that he wasn’t going to get himself killed. After all, Turks looked out for each other. She closed in on his position, shadows and silhouettes forming with increasing clarity as she neared.

Elena stopped in her tracks, her eyes riveted on one mammoth form. “My God.”

Her imagination didn’t do a bad job, she reasoned as her assassin skills instantly took over. It was a huge, hulking beast, over six feet tall on all fours. Its legs were long and thick, but weren’t bulky enough to get in the way. It had tiny ridges over its spine, trailing down its back and diminishing to nothing at the end of its long, bulb-shaped tail. It almost reminded her of the mutt that AVALANCHE hung out with, but larger and way more deadly looking.

The monster’s face appeared slightly shrunken in comparison to the stature of the rest of its body, its large horn-like ears flattened against its head, but the lion-like snout and overhanging brow gave it the appearance of an ancient predator, long since vanished from the plant. There was no doubt in her mind; this thing was strong.

The predator shifted its weight, lowering its body closer to the ground, poised to strike. Suddenly, its eyes then darted in her direction, glinting dangerously in the minimal light. Almost wistfully, it sniffed in the biting night air, still glaring at her.

“Elena,” Reno growled lowly, his gaze shifting warily between her and the overgrown dog, “what the hell are you looking at?”

She shook her head absent-mindedly, rooted in place. “There’s something…strange about its eyes—” Suddenly, her back went ramrod straight, her bright blue eyes fixated on the glimmering eyes before her. “This thing’s more than strong,” she stated, not bothering to keep the shock from her voice, “it’s *intelligent*.”

It snarled at her, growling lowly.

“Uh, I don’t think it appreciated that, Elena,” Reno said, the sarcasm in his voice strangely muted.

Somehow, the blonde doubted that. It had every opportunity to rip her to shreds in the past ten minutes, and yet it didn’t move from its spot. It seemed more focused on trying to scare her rather than harming her. Her lips curled unnaturally for a moment. The beast even looked like it was *enjoying*—

Elena blinked, her entire body going rigid. It wasn’t snarling, she realized, a cold, aching horror slowly gnawing at her bones.

It was smiling.

--There ya go!--

[Weiila]

No stress Silver, don't press yourself if you're not feeling well. It's looking good, as always ^_^

[SilverKnight]

-->cuts to the chase<--

A thousand thoughts whirred through the pain-addled mind of Cloud Strife.

The first of which was, how the hell could something that big possibly be so quiet?

It came quite literally out of nowhere, charging towards him with eerily familiar eyes, wide with what he could only have assumed was animal fury. “Over here! Flank me!” he ordered quickly, sparing one precious second to glance behind him. Without thought, he struck out with his gloved fist, attempting to slow the beast down while Cid and Tifa closed in on his position. It slammed right into the beast’s wide nose, a slight crunching noise echoing through the otherwise still night.

It jumped back a few feet, howling in pain, a sort of shock on his furred face. It looked as if, for all its intent to cause harm, it was about to turn tail and run. He hid his satisfaction. However, the animal snorted quickly and met his eyes, whatever fury he thought he’d seen earlier replaced with something far worse.

He didn’t bother hiding his frown. The only thing he actually achieved in doing, it seemed, was pissing it off.

It huffed angrily, leaping forward with a cat-like grace that didn’t suit its large size. Under normal circumstances, he would’ve even been able to track its movement, maybe even dodge out of the way a dazzling display of his skills. But, in his current condition, the only thing the spiky-haired mercenary witnessed was a blur that materialized directly to his right, a fearsome snarl upon its face. In the split second that the monster stayed still, he caught a glance at its expression, his frown deepening. Yup, he definitely pissed it off.

Without so much as a grunt of effort, the creature batted its head in his direction, harmlessly swatting him away like a fly into the tall grass. He landed with a dull thud, his entire back on fire, moaning lowly in his throat. Dragging himself to his feet, the scrawny blond glowered at the blanketing darkness.

Cursing silently for losing their position, he strained his ears, hearing noises to his immediate right. Pivoting towards the sounds, he hid his surprise when his Mako-tinted eyes caught sight of a clearly fatigued Cid Highwind charging forward with his miraculously intact spear in hand mere yards from where he stood. Seconds later, he watched as the gruff pilot was tossed away like a rag doll, his spear being the ironic tool of choice the beast chose to use in doing so.

Concerned for the injured man, he took a step forward, but was halted when he’d heard Cid’s heated swearing. Cloud smirked faintly, projecting his enhanced vision back upon where the monster last stood, it—not surprisingly—being nowhere in sight.

And, upon closer inspection, neither was Tifa.

Sighing, he shook the sudden fear from his psyche in disgust. It was almost impossible to see, he told himself. Besides, she was the only out of the three that hadn’t been severely injured in the crash, so she could certainly take care of herself.

But against something like *that*? On her own?

He started off towards Cid, and was surprised for the second time in less than a minute—something he was not happy with at all, a part of him noted—Tifa melting from the shadows. “Down!” she ordered frantically, diving on top of him with what felt like all the weight she could muster. Slamming into the cold ground with much more force that he would have liked, he stifled the groan of pain as his childhood friend shifted to cover him with her own body.

If this had been almost any other moment in his adult life, he would’ve given anything for her—or any woman with a body like hers, for that matter, but he wouldn’t have dared said that to Tifa—to clamber on top of him the way she was doing. But, he noted with more than a bit of bitter amusement, she was doing it to save his life, all because some idiotic monster with a bad case of gingivitis wanted to bear a bunch of really nasty looking claws and slice her back into bite-size morsels—

He blinked in shock, and growled to himself. He couldn’t start zoning out now, not when so much was at stake—

The heavy paw slashed down.

Tifa shrieked in pain, and from the sudden clenching of every muscle that was touching his body, she was hiding more pain than she was showing.

He blinked, reality slapping him squarely in the jaw. Hard.

Then he saw red.

He didn’t notice the creature’s sudden movement backward, its tail curled inward in a look reminiscent of remorse. But, he *did* note the creature’s sudden lack of any defensive stance, and took his chance. Without wondering how or when Cid had gotten next to him, he wrenched the homemade weapon from his gloved fingers, roaring in fury as he barreled forward with all the strength his weakened legs could possibly give him.

Angrily, he swung the steel spear in a wide arc, hoping the sharp point would gouge out one of its eyes. The monster saw his wild attack and countered, catching the scarred metal shaft in its powerful jaws, tugging it mercilessly from his hand and hurling it off into the night. The movement caught Cloud off guard, and he tumbled to the ground painfully, skidding to a halt on his skewered back.

The mercenary clumsily rose to his feet, snarling audibly. The monster perched itself on its front legs, opening its giant maw and roared, the fur on its long neck sticking straight up. For a split second, he was frozen in place, a tendril of strange recognition curling its way through his mind. It had the cat-like grace of a lion, but the hackles and canines of a dog…

He shook the sensation off, preparing to charge when a blur detached itself from the velvety darkness, slamming into the beast with enough force to snap its head sideways. The shadow gracefully bounded away from its still open mouth, landing mere feet away from him. His Mako-enhanced eyes traveled over the silhouette, slowly recognizing its tall, lanky figure, and large, bald head. “Rude?” he asked, his brows furrowing in confusion. “How did you…?”

Shouts wafted through the night air, quick footsteps coming to a halt across from the monster, which was now facing away from him and his bald companion. He instantly recognized the features as belonging to Elena, the newest—and ditziest—member of the Turks. No doubt, the other pair of footsteps he heard tromping through the grass belonged to the leader, Reno. He snorted, shaking his head in amazement. The last he saw them, they were stuck in Midgar as Meteor began to enter the atmosphere. Yet, they were still alive, and looking in better shape than any of AVALANCHE.

What the hell did it take to *kill* those guys?

The blond huffed angrily, clenching his fists. He was zoning out again. And, apparently, he’d missed part of a conversation.

“…It’s *intelligent*,” Elena said, shocked.

The beast growled; its eyes focused keenly on her. Narrowing his eyes, he fruitlessly scanned the area for any sign of Cid’s spear.

“Uh, I don’t think it appreciated that, Elena,” he heard Reno reply, sounding slightly unnerved.

Cloud scowled darkly, deciding to just attack it now while its attention was drawn elsewhere. Luckily, Rude made no move to stop, instead focusing on the commotion in front of them.

“It’s *smiling*!” Elena exclaimed, her voice hovering between awe and horror.

He bent his knees slightly, poising his body to strike—

Faster than his eye could travel, the monstrous creature howled in delight as it launched itself away from them, landing and circling around gracefully. It hopped twice more, the strange grin still on its furred face. Cloud froze in place, watching the animal prance around happily as if it were a dog playing catch.

He blinked, his jaw slack.

“What the hell did *I* miss?” Cid snapped roughly, speaking for everyone.

“You got me,” Reno replied, dumbfounded.

The beast hopped again, raising and shaking its head in the air. Seeing that no one was moving, it scampered over to Elena, quickly clamping down on her white blouse, and tugged her forward.

Reno chuckled lightly, a smirk upon his face. “Looks like you made a friend, Elena.”

She didn’t share in his mirth. “Great,” she muttered darkly, begrudgingly snatching her arm back to her side, at the cost of her sleeve. Snarling loudly, the Turk began to follow the towering creature, which was already several feet ahead of her and still smiling. Belatedly, Rude and Reno followed, exchanging amused looks with each other.

Cloud blinked again, snapping out of his flabbergasted stupor. He noticed Cid rise to his feet shakily, frowning down into the tall grass which surrounded them.

Tifa was injured.

The lanky mercenary swore, hiking over next to her. Kneeling down next to her, he touched her shoulder lightly, noticing that Cid’s tattered flight jacket was now wrapped underneath her. Frowning, he glanced up to the crabby pilot, his pallid face easily betraying the man’s failing condition. They needed to get to Kalm, and the sooner, the better.

Rising to his feet, he met the blond’s gaze. “Stay with her,” he ordered, turning on his heel and starting off. He stopped several feet later and swore again, straining his sensitive ears to hear the telltale signs of movement before he wound up getting himself lost. Usually this wouldn’t have been an issue, but he’d only minutes ago awakened, and in the middle of nowhere, at that. The last thing he wanted to do was screw himself worse than he already was.

He frowned. He was spending too much time around Cid.

Belatedly, his ears pricked up at the sounds of a heated argument. Or, rather, a heated one-sided screaming session. Judging by the shrillness and intensity, it was most likely Elena. Either that, or Rude had a very feminine voice. Cloud shook his head, tearing himself away from his rambling thoughts as he trotted forward into the night to catch up with the Turks.

“C’mon Elena,” he heard Reno say, “it was funny.”

“It was *not*!” she retorted angrily, her voice a full octave above her normal voice. “I’ve never seen *you* dragged around by some overgrown dog!”

The beast growled dejectedly.

“No offense,” she muttered quickly.

Coming to a halt behind the blonde, he peeked over her shoulder, his enhanced eyes slicing through the night to the source of the creature’s excitement. Four people lie among the grass, their bodies huddled together and unmoving. From the stench that mingled with the sweet scent of nature, the mercenary guessed they’d been dead for around a day. “They were from uptown Midgar,” he stated blandly.

The others stopped, turning to face him. “What?” Elena squawked, furrowing her brows. “How can you tell that?”

He pushed past her, kneeling down to the carcasses, a sneer twisting his face. “Good quality tailoring,” he answered, tugging at the top body’s bloodied jacket. His eyes flitting downward, he caught sight of a large knapsack, and hastily pulled it free. “Leather knapsack,” he continued, inspecting it carefully. “Something like this would cost thousands of gil. No slummer could have possibly gotten this; legally, anyway.” Unhooking the intricate silver clasp, he looked inside to see its contents.

He pressed his lips into a thin line, digging his hand in. “I see why your friend brought us here, Elena,” Cloud said, clasping a large water bottle and handing it to the Turk next to him.

Elena frowned, snatching the bottle away. “It’s *not* my friend,” she hissed, unscrewing the cap. The furred creature growled again, its furred head bowing down. “No offense,” she mumbled, taking a long drink.

Handing the bag to Elena as well, he pulled the first body down, patting him down for any valuables. “Reno, Rude, check the others in case they have anything of use.”

“Wouldn’t have pegged you as a grave-robber,” Reno stated sourly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Do you see a grave here?” Cloud retorted, searching the man’s sleeves.

“Damn, Strife,” the redhead huffed, “you’re a callous bastard when you want to be.”

The blond snorted in response, plucking out a small flashlight from the dead man’s jacket pocket. “It’s a little late to become self-righteous, Reno,” he answered, inspecting the man’s pockets. “Besides, you’re acting like you’ve never done it before.” He glimpsed to his side, noting that Rude was already checking a young woman’s purse. At least someone was helping. He wasn’t sure whether or not to be happy.

“I *haven’t*,” Reno snapped, his light eyes flaring up like kindling. “At least…when I wasn’t ordered to.” He turned, calmly sauntering away. “And you can’t give me any incentive to, either.”

Out the corner of his eye, he noted Elena had discarded the leather sack, yelling for Cid and Tifa to come over. He saw the white box in her hand, and immediately knew why. He hid the grin; she was going to have fun treating Cid’s wounds. Sighing, he propped his arms on his knees, twisting to face Reno. “I’ll make you richer than God.”

He stopped, casting a quarter-glance over his narrow shoulder, his eyebrow arched in interest. “I’m listening.”

The spiky-haired soldier hid his smirk. “I thought you would.” Ignoring the pain of his back, he stood, casually pivoting on his boot and starting over towards the taller Turk. “I’m willing to pay,” he stated simply, his hand moving to the wallet full of money hidden in his belt, “if you’re willing to help me when I ask.”

“Ten thousand per job,” Reno said, turning fully around and crossing his arms.

Cloud’s lip curled unnaturally, giving the lanky man a sour look. “I said I’m willing, Reno, not easy.” Pausing, he pursed his lips in thought. “I’ll pay you according to the difficulty of each assignment.”

“Fine. Eight thousand minimum,” Reno proposed, his face impassive.

The mercenary’s face became stern, his eyes narrowing. “*Two* thousand.”

The redhead harrumphed indignantly, his arms falling to his sides. “Oh please, that wouldn’t even pay some of my bar tabs.”

“Then whose fault is that?” he demanded, his face hardening in annoyance.

The lanky Turk slipped his calloused hands into his pockets, sighing deeply. “Alright, alright…six thousand.”

He shook his head curtly, standing his ground. “Four thousand.”

Reno raised his chin slightly, jutting it out defiantly. “*Five* thousand.”

“Deal.” Cloud’s lips tugged up into a tight grin, and quickly held out his hand. Reno accepted the handshake, a smile upon his own pale face.

“For each of us,” the Turk added.

He yanked his hand back, turning on his heel. “Too late.”

The taller Turk huffed, crossing his arms. “Fine; then we won’t help you.”

Cloud shrugged, kneeling back down towards the body. “Then you won’t get paid.” He paused, his Mako-blue eyes flitting over his bare shoulder. “Your choice.”

“Damn,” Reno muttered to himself. “Oh well, it was worth a shot.” Straightening, he stuffed his hands into his pockets, shivering slightly from the icy winds. “I’m still not helping you pick through those bodies like some vulture, though.”

He harrumphed, looking flatly at the corpse. Contrary to what Reno was insinuating he didn’t enjoy ‘picking through bodies like some vulture’. In fact, he was somewhat disgusted with himself for it. But, pragmatism won out over his conscience, and he forced back his revulsion to search for anything that could be of use while they were out there.

Peeking behind him, he saw Reno nodding to himself, his aquamarine eyes dancing with greed. “How do I get in touch with you guys?” the blond asked suddenly, moving towards the next body, a young man no older than he.

His head popped up, his daydream interrupted. “Huh? Oh,” he quickly pulled out a small rectangular object, “I have my cell.”

Cloud knitted his brows. “Cell phone’s still work? Midgar was destroyed, though.”

“Yeah,” Reno replied absent-mindedly, twirling the silver phone in his fingers, “but most of the satellite uplinks were run through Junon.”

“I assumed most of the satellites were destroyed, though,” he replied, turning his attention back to the body before him. “Meteor was pretty big.”

“Some were destroyed, but not all of them,” Reno answered, tapping the phone flat against his palm. “It would be near impossible to send a link from here to, say, Gold Saucer, but as long as we’re on the same continent, we should be able to get a signal.”

He blinked, his face etched in surprise. He didn’t know Reno was…well, smart. The Turk caught the look, and hurriedly shrugged, clearing his throat. “At least, that’s what I think Tseng was trying to explain to me.”

He paused for a split second, quickly patting his pants for the location of his PHS, disheartened to realize it was no longer inside his pocket. “I lost my PHS,” he voiced, his shoulders slumping. “It probably was destroyed in the crash.” Twisting his head over the blades of grass, he scanned the velvety blanket of night, his eyes coming to rest on Cid. “Cid, do you still have your PHS?”

“Nope,” he muttered groggily, snatching his arm away as Elena tried to grab it. “Got flattened.”

The lean ex-SOLDIER scowled, running his thickly gloved fingers through the stubbornly resistant locks of hair. “And Tifa didn’t have one. Great.”

Rude, for the first time since they’d met, spoke. “I’ll go,” he said impassively.

Everyone stopped, turning their gazes to him. “What?” Cloud asked, careful to keep the uncertainty out of his voice.

“I’ll go with you,” the Turk clarified, his strangely light eyes focused upon him. He squirmed slightly, Rude’s unwavering stare unnerving him.

“Why?” Reno demanded, sounding slightly betrayed. “Turks are supposed to stick together.”

“We’re not Turks anymore,” Rude retorted, his mask of ice breaking away to reveal the weariness of the man underneath it. “We have no reason to ‘stick together’.” His intense gaze fell upon Cloud again, and again, he felt his skin crawling at the attention. “I’m going with you.”

The redhead’s face darkened, his eyes narrowing as his lips twisted into a snarl. “*Fine*. Go with them.” His eyes flashed over to Elena, whom was just as certainly just as betrayed as Reno, but more silent in her reproach. “What about *you*, Elena? Are you going to ditch me too?”

Her eyes wildly darted about the scenery, going from Reno, to Rude, to Cloud, and back to Reno. Slowly, silently, she shook her head. “No,” she started, her voice wavering, “I’ll stay with you.”

With the closest thing to approval he’d ever seen on the Turk’s face, Reno nodded, his icy composure sliding back into place as he calmly strode over next to her. “Good.”

Shaking his head, Cloud went back to searching the poor dead soul in front of him. A gust of cold wind blew from the west, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine. His clothing wasn’t exactly practical for a cool April night. Yet, the people lying in front of him had ample clothing and gear. With what they had on them, they should’ve at least survived until Chocobo Billy’s ranch, if not farther. Why did they die?

His glove brushed against something wet, and he looked down to see the source. Bringing his hand out from under the young man’s body, he found it was covered with a watery substance, a strange sheen emanating from it even though there was little light to reflect upon it. He tensed his muscles, and swiftly moved his fingers to pry the corpse’s eyes open, savagely hiding his nausea at the permeating stench.

The man’s eyes were an unearthly shade of green.

“Mako-poisoning,” he whispered, cringing. Haltingly, he stood, stepping away from the body, his hands clenched into fists. “That’s enough, Rude,” he said simply.

Surprisingly, Rude obeyed, pushing himself away from the last corpse and standing. Elena, whom was still in the process of getting Cid to sit down, turned to him, her eyes wide with confusion. “Huh? How could they die of Mako-poisoning all the way out here?” she questioned as she all but dragged the somewhat dazed pilot to the ground.

“When Holy wasn’t enough to stop Meteor,” he began matter-of-factly, his eyes turning skyward, “the Lifrestream started coming up from the ground.”

Reno chuckled dryly as he picked up the clear plastic bottle, bringing it to his lips non-chalantly. “Sounds pretty cool.”

“Not really,” Cloud corrected blandly, sighing. “If you’d been out here when it happened, you most likely would’ve been caught by it.” His eyes slowly fell from the sky, staring blankly at the four people lying motionless in the tall grass. “Like they did.” His thin lips curled downward, a stab of pity welling from inside him. “They wouldn’t have died instantly…”

He shook his head to cover the shudder. He vividly remembered what it felt like to suffer from Mako-poisoning. Pain. Lots of it.

“*Ow*!” Cid growled angrily, his voice slicing through the lingering memories. “Goddammit, woman, what the hell’re ya doin’ to me?!”

“I’m cleaning your wounds, you idiot,” Elena berated heatedly, struggling to hold him still while she applied a wet cloth over the unsightly gash on his side. “And if you actually used your brain, you’d see that. Now stop moving so I can stitch this up.”

“Ain’t no way in hell I’m lettin’ you sew me up!” he bellowed, his eyes going wide as he futilely tried to scamper to his feet. “I’d rather chew off my own arm!”

“Reno,” she huffed. “A little help?”

The lanky Turk quickly closed the distance between himself and Cid, gracelessly shoving the man’s shoulders into the ground. “Do it,” he ordered, his face emotionless.

Despite the fact that Cid was obviously not going anywhere, he still fought the Turk’s iron grip. The petite woman gritted her teeth in frustration as she held out the curved needle threateningly. “Cid, you better hold still before I stick this thing in your eye!”

Begrudgingly, the gruff pilot stopped moving, his jaw working in anger. “This better not hurt,” he muttered angrily.

Without a word, she inserted the needle.

-->continues to cut to the chase<--

Cid growled, his body tensing up as a frenzied line of obscenities flowed from his mouth as she continued to sew the bleeding red wound together.

Cloud watched for a moment, morbidly fascinated, before his eyes belatedly caught another woman lying at his feet. Turning, he saw Rude stand, a similar white kit clutched in his fingers. “Here,” he huffed, shoving the kit into his grasp.

“Uh, thanks,” he said awkwardly, kneeling down to the unconscious woman, gingerly pulling the blue fabric off of her back, watching with disgust as blood began to freely roll down her soft skin, soaking the tattered white cloth a deep red. A frown still adorning his otherwise flawless face, he opened the case up, plucking out the gauze and the antiseptic. Softly, he patted at her wounds, ignoring her body as it writhed from the sudden stinging.

As he grabbed a clean cloth from the sterile kit, his sharp eyes caught the mammoth silhouette of the creature that had brought all of this on. Warily, he continued to clean her wounds, careful to keep an eye on the furred monstrosity that stood mere feet from him. Slowly, it began to near him, its eyes locked upon the buxom woman that lie at his feet.

His eyes narrowing, the mercenary placed the cleaning agents on top of the kit, holding his blood-soaked gloves defensively in front of him. It crept forward slowly, stopping within arms reach of him. Preparing for anything, Cloud clenched his hands into fists, waiting for the monster to strike.

It bowed its head down, licking Tifa’s exposed shoulder once, and whimpered sadly.

He stared at the beast, partly surprised, and completely confused. “What, is that supposed to mean ‘I’m sorry’?” he asked the furred creature, frowning. It looked up at him, its large golden-flecked eyes filled with remorse. His frown deepened, determined not to go soft on it. “Are you trying to say you apologize?” It rumbled in its throat, closing its eyes. “I guess you want me to forgive you.”

It lowered his head, displaying its thickly furred crown. He was tempted to smack the thing, just because he was having a bad day and felt like taking it out on someone, but refrained. Instead, much to his shock, he raised his hand, patting it gruffly on the head twice. “Yeah, well, you’re forgiven.” It looked at him, cocking its head to the side slightly. “Her wounds aren’t very deep, and…I guess I did hit you first.” He sighed wearily, noting the creature’s confused look, realizing for the first time that it looked strangely like Red. “Look, the next time you want to get a person’s attention, don’t act like you’re about to kill them, alright?”

It huffed, shaking its head as if nodding. Its bright eyes then shot up to a point over his shoulder. Curious, he turned, watching as Cid shot up from the grass, holding his side tightly and backing away from the kneeling Turks.

“I didn’t finish taping up the gauze!” Elena exclaimed, holding the roll of white surgical tape in the air. Softly, the sound of Reno’s voice moaning what sounded like magical curses wafted through the chilled night air.

“It’s close enough!” he snarled, scruffily tucking his shirt back in. “Ya got a really crappy beside manner, ya know that?”

“I’ll have you know I have a very *good* bedside manner,” she chastised him, waving the needle back and forth tauntingly as she replaced it in the kit. She stood, gaping at the caked bloodstain that marred his shirt. “I just don’t like you.” Her dainty hand shot out, lightly swatting his side as she passed him.

He howled in pain, his face contorted in a mixture of agony and hellish fury. “You did that on purpose!” he seethed through clenched teeth, his cool eyes wide with rage.

She glanced over her shoulder, her lips quirked up into a devilish smirk. “Well, duh. Where have you been?”

The pilot began assaulting them with every obscenity he’d ever heard, and a few Cloud wasn’t sure were actual words but sounded close enough to the real thing. Sighing, he shook his head and returned to cleaning Tifa’s back. “You think he’s angry?” he asked sarcastically, his eyes flitting up in the direction of the creature’s face.

It sniffed, growling low in its throat. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he stated flatly, pulling out the gauze. “I feel like I’m playing charades with an overgrown dog.”

It growled, sniffing the air disdainfully.

He looked up, shrugging impishly. “No offense.”

--There ya go!--

[Chris-chris]

Veryyyyy GoooooDDDD!!! I like it!

[Heaven's Soldier]

This is coming along very smoothly, SilverKnight keep it up. I just can't wait to see what actually hapens to them later on in the fic!!

[SilverKnight]

--Ack. It's been, what, four months? I haven't even touched this story. >hurriedly tries to scribble more of the story< Erm...this may take a while. Heh. Here's something to tide you over. :D >scribbles more<--

Hero of the Day

***

“And it feels right this time, on this crash course we're in the big time…
…Pay no mind to the distant thunder, beauty fills his head with wonder, boy.”

--Metallica, “No Leaf Clover”

***

Part VIII

***

Tifa’s mind swam back to consciousness slowly, the ocean current choppy and rough. The tumultuous storm that surrounded her sluggishly began to take form of a worn, faded blue shirt; the ominous rumbling of thunder in the distance quieting to the sound of a rhythmic heartbeat and ragged breathing. The first thing she truly was aware of was how warm she was, a strange warmth permeating through her cold, aching bones.

Without warning, her back burst into flames.

The second thing she was aware of was the pain.

She gasped, her well-toned muscles tensing from the unwanted sensation. She felt her carrier’s comforting grasp loosen suddenly from her movement, the warmth being replaced by a chilled wind as her body reeled downward, spiraling toward the ground…

Her chestnut eyes flew open, wide and bloodshot. Milliseconds passed, bright, fearsome light pounding into her unprotected eyes, and she quickly clenched them tightly shut, to no avail. Stray wisps of the morning sunlight seeped through her eyelids, causing her to burrow herself closer to the one carrying her.

The arms coiled firmly around her shoulders and legs tightened slightly, as if sensing her discomfort and trying to calm her. Belatedly, she noted that it was Cloud carrying her, and she twisted her head away from his curious blue eyes, letting the long strands of brown hair cover the blush that now burned her cheeks. She was being carried around like some helpless child, and to make matters worse, she just shifted closer and reinforced her weak visage. And to Cloud, of all people. How embarrassing.

The martial artist felt him lurch to a halt, shifting her tentatively in his arms. “Can you walk?” he asked simply, his soft tenor voice vibrating through his chest.

Cautiously, she flexed her muscles, wincing when a quick rush of pain shot down her back. Slowly, her stiff legs began to respond, and haltingly, she nodded. “Yeah, I can,” she answered, her eyes narrowed to slits as the harsh light showered her pallid face.

The blond’s face remained blank, staring at her impassively. “Good; you’re heavy.”

Her eyes shot up to his, shocked.

His thin lips stretched into a sly smirk, winking at her.

She punched him in the chest, her face contorting in exaggerated displeasure. Much to her dismay, his confident face crumpled in a split-second of pain, vanishing a second later. She bit her lip lightly, feeling like a complete heel as she purposefully lost herself in the warm oranges and yellows of the morning horizon. Despite her sudden aversion to his presence, he twisted her around in his grasp and suspended her in the air, patiently waiting for her to stand up.

Sheepishly, the brunette carefully placed her feet on the ground, balancing her weight to make sure that she wouldn’t fall flat on her face if she’d miscalculated her strength. Luckily, her legs held with only a minor groan of annoyance, and she hopped twice to make certain she was capable of movement.

Confidently, she turned, catching sight of Cloud watching her intently, his gaze centered upon her scratched and dirt-covered face. “It takes a lot to knock you down, doesn’t it,” he stated calmly, his eyes still resting on her frame.

She shrugged impishly, returning his gaze. “You know me; stubborn to the last, right?” He said nothing, only stared at her, a contemplative look on her face that somehow unnerved and endeared to her at the same time. His Mako-tinted eyes washed over her form, appreciating and simultaneously scrutinizing her. Awkwardly, she cleared her throat, her gaze darting towards the safety of the morning horizon again. “How long before we reach Kalm?”

“We’re already there.”

Surprised, she spun on the heel of her thick combat boots, coming face to face with none other than Rude. The tall man was impassive as always, his face completely devoid of emotion or conscience as he glared coldly at her. “What are you doing here?” the brunette breathed, slightly dizzy from her jarring movement.

Ignoring her question, the Turk continued unabated. “It’s just over the horizon. I’d gone and checked while you, Strife, and the pilot were resting.”

“I got a *name*, ya know,” Cid muttered indignantly, crossing his strangely bare arms.

Her brows knitting, she absent-mindedly glanced down at her form, realizing for the first time that his trademark blue coat was hanging limply off her shoulders. Smiling up at the grumpy pilot, she shrugged the coarse material off her bruised and tender skin, dangling it from her torn leather glove.

His hard look softened, a ghost of a smile curling on his dirt-smeared features. “Nah, you keep it,” he said softly, shaking his head.

She put her spare hand on her hip, cocking her head slightly at him. “Cid, it’s your coat. Besides, you have to be cold.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Teef, yer wearin’ a halter top and a goddamn miniskirt. And it’s *April*.” His smile widening slightly, he clapped a hand to her shoulder. “Trust me, I don’t need it that much.”

Ignoring the sudden jolt down her spine, her ruby lip twisted in thought for a moment, appraising his current condition. Though smeared with dirt and soot, the color had returned to his skin, his once pallid face radiating with its usual golden-tinged fire. The bounce was back in his step, and most importantly, his fierce temper was—while not quite up to usual Highwind standards—making a healthy comeback. As her eyes traveled down his form, she noted the gaping slash in his side had been covered with a strip of sterile white gauze, and wondered when they’d managed to find a med-kit anywhere.

“You’re starting to look better,” she commented, nodding her head in approval.

His smoky blue eyes danced with mischief. “Thanks, doc.”

The martial artist grinned broadly, bowing slightly. “My pleasure.” Seconds later, she shoved the jacket in his face, her expression expectant. “Now, will you take the coat? It’s heavy, and my arm’s getting tired.”

The smile fell away, his face serious. But, his eyes still held a good-natured glow about them, luckily enough for her. She’d seen Cid Highwind angry; she didn’t want it directed towards her. “I ain’t takin’ the goddamn coat, Teef. That’s final.”

Tifa sighed wearily, hating to resort to her final trick. With a silent groan of resignation, she stuck out her lower lip in an exaggerated fashion, giving him her best impression of puppy-dog eyes she could manage.

He snarled deeply, clenching his blood-caked fist in frustration. She *knew* he could never resist her puppy-dog eyes routine. Damn that woman. “Fine,” he growled, swiping the fabric from her fingers in a brusque motion. “Just stop givin’ me that look—I hate that damn look.”

Instantly, she obeyed, her lips stretching in to a perky smile. “I know,” she chuckled, waggling her eyebrows as she turned away, standing resolutely next to Cloud. Seeing the pilot’s scowl, she quickly continued, “But if it makes you feel any better, I hate using it. I feel like such a tool.”

He harrumphed, slipping his arms through the torn cloth, adjusting the collar around his neck. “*You* feel like a tool?”

Cloud exhaled deeply, gaining the brunette’s attention. With mounting concern, her chestnut eyes danced over his slumped form, his expression looking haggard beyond his years. Not acknowledging her, he spared a moment to bring his thickly gloved fingers to the back of his neck, massaging the tense muscles gingerly. “We’d better start heading over there. We’ve all had plenty of rest.”

His gaze met hers, and she immediately looked away, feeling as if she’d done something wrong. Silently nodding her assent, she fell into stride on his left as he set the pace, reminiscing upon the recent events. What was Rude doing here? And why weren’t Reno and Elena there, either?

Her eyes flickering over her shoulder, the fighter swiftly took stock of the Turk’s appearance. He looked tired. No, he looked *old*. Her lips pursed in thought. She never knew exactly how old he was, but he was definitely older than she suspected. The curiosity in her begged to find out, but she quelled the rogue voice instantly. It was rude to ask.

Her finely sculpted eyebrows dove downward, her face twisting imperceptibly. Speaking of questions, what exactly happened to that giant dog—?

“Cloud!”

Her head snapped up sharply, her reverie cut off. Eyes wide as saucers, she gaped about the scenery, trying to place the location of the voice among the tall grass. Why had someone whispered Cloud’s name? Somewhere, she noted that Kalm was well within-site; the cobble-stoned entrance only a few hundred yards away.

Cid stopped by her side, frowning in confusion. “Teef? You okay?”

She waited for several seconds, and when no sounds other than that of the chirping grasshoppers, she convinced herself that she was only hearing things. Haltingly, she nodded. “Yeah…yeah, I’m fine. I just thought I heard—“

“Psst! Cloud!” the voice whispered again.

Her body on full alert, her eyes shot about the sea of green, straining her ears for the source of the voice, unaware that everyone else was doing the same. Carefully, the brunette recounted the disembodied voice, ticking off its qualities. It sounded very feminine, having a high and squeaky quality to it that she doubted almost any man could ever imitate. Her large eyes narrowed. It almost sounded like—

“Hey, *Spike*!”

She distinctly heard the mercenary snort disdainfully at the nickname, turning his head slowly to the right, his lips pressed into a thin line. Following his gaze, she noted a small huddled form hardly an arm’s length away from her, barely noticeable among the endless meadow. “…Yuffie?” he asked, his voice betraying only the slightest hint of surprise.

Suddenly, a waif of a girl leapt from the grassland, her right arm snapping outward and seizing his hand, forcibly dragging him down into the tall green blades that surrounded them. “Get down!” she hissed quietly, a bare hand emerging from the prairie that had swallowed the rest of her form, motioning hurriedly for everyone to drop.

Tifa, in other circumstances, would have laughed hysterically at the ninja’s antics. For the time being, though, she settled for staring at her as if she’d gone insane, lithely dropping to a feline crouch among the field. Rude silently appeared next to her, having done the same.

Cid, however, had no intention of doing anything of the sort.

“I ain’t movin’,” he huffed defiantly, crossing his arms.

“You’re being watched, Cid,” Yuffie stated evenly, her voice surprisingly mature for her usually bouncy nature. “I don’t want anyone to see you guys here. It could ruin…well, a lot.”

The pilot blinked, his brows knitting together in confusion. “Like what?”

“Yuffie,” Cloud began, his voice strained vaguely with pain, “get off of me. You’re leaning all your weight on my back.”

“Tell Cid to get down, and I will,” she retorted shrewdly.

“That’s extortion,” he said, non-plussed.

“Hey, it’s your back, not mine,” she answered blandly.

The leader of AVALANCHE growled darkly. Yuffie was going to be in a lot of trouble once all of this was over. “Cid, will you just sit down for a minute?”

He paused, as if trying to word his response. Fearing the gruff blond wouldn’t agree, Tifa shifted her weight to face him, her eyes as hard as steel. “Cid,” she ordered, her jaw jutting out, “sit down.”

He glared back at her for an instant.

Then, silently, he begrudgingly dropped to the ground. “There,” he muttered miserably. “Happy now, brat?”

“Much,” she replied happily, chuckling slightly. Her quiet laughter was quickly replaced with a shocked yelp when Cloud unceremoniously tossed her off his throbbing back, her thin and pale limbs flailing a few inches above the curtain of grass that enshrouded them. Seconds later, she harrumphed dejectedly. “You could’ve at least warned me,” she pouted sadly.

“You could’ve gotten off me when I asked,” he barked in reply, swiftly crawling through the forest of grass and kneeling next to Tifa.

“Hey, you *never* asked, thank you,” Yuffie said, snorting quietly. “Geez, somebody’s not a morning person.”

Everyone frowned in unison. “Get on with it,” the chorus of voices snapped angrily.

A hand flew up over the line of emerald blades in resignation. “Alright, alright…sheesh,” she muttered in exasperation. “To get to the point, there’s some psycho in town who just put Barret on trial for blowing up a bunch of stuff in Midgar.”

Tifa’s eyes widened, her thin red lips parting in absolute shock. “No…” she whispered, aghast. Not after all they’d done, not after all the sacrifices…

“Are you serious?” Cloud questioned, his face twisted in disbelief and some other indiscernible emotion.

“There’s more,” the ninja replied enigmatically. “Apparently, the psycho’s got this sort of natural charisma thing, and he can basically charm everybody into following his lead—whether it’s right or not.” She paused, her strangely heavy voice echoing in the air solemnly. “…That stupid, loud-mouthed jerk…”

“Go on,” Tifa interjected, her dark eyes darting about the grass, which shielded her from view of the town.

“Anyway,” she backpedaled, her voice flat and devoid of its usual spark, “if Barret’s proven guilty—which, knowing Barret and that big mouth of his probably will be…” The teen trailed off, her voice dying into a tiny squeak of resignation.

The brunette’s stomach clenched suddenly, her face betraying her dread.

“What is it, kid?” Cid prodded gently, his voice gruff but curious.

The only sound that prevailed through the morning skies was that of a gentle breeze, faintly caressing the dew-covered tips of the meadow. A quick surge of panic flowed through her veins, making her want to leap over the protection of the grass and shake the information out of the injured girl. But, by a scant margin, she held the urge in.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the shinobi spoke. “If he’s proven guilty…” she repeated, sounding suddenly ill. “…He’ll be put to death.”

--There ya go!--

[Chris-chris]

That was good! I hope you keep it going!

SilverKnight! *hugs him too*

[Heaven's Soldier]

Alright I now think we are closin in on some big amount of action, am I right?

Anyway keep it coming you are one hell of an awesome writer!!

[SilverKnight]

--Well, this is it. After this post, I'll be up to date, and it'll fall on me to write and post more. That being said, don't expect to see this thread again for a while. :D--

“This is stupid.”

Yuffie fought the frown that tugged at her thin lips, shooting a glare towards Cid over her sloped shoulder, now covered in a worn blue coat that had seen many better days. He was struggling with an oversized hooded jacket, grumbling under his breath heatedly, most likely cursing its very existence. “Hey, it’s the best I could swipe on short notice,” she rebuffed, the frown breaking the surface and curling her lips down in agitation. “Do you know how hard it is to steal with one arm?”

“I wasn’t talkin’ about the damn jacket,” he snapped, giving the hood a short tug, the heavy cloth falling into his face. “I meant, why the hell are we gettin’ dressed up? We’re not Robin Hood, goddammit—“ Growling, he gripped the green hood in his fist and yanked it out of his face, the defenseless cloth tearing away from the seams with a loud rip. Slightly dazed, he stared at the remnants of the hood hanging from his fingers, blinking once. Finally, he tossed it into the grass with a slight harrumph, readjusting the neckline of the long coat. “Anyway, why the act? Do these guys even know what we look like?”

The ninja picked up the discarded green hood, wrapping it around her head like a bandanna. “Better safe than sorry,” she retorted, struggling with the knot.

The blond snorted, rolling up the baggy sleeves to his elbow. “This comin’ from you.”

Her gaze darkened, her jaw muscles going taut. “The first thing a ninja learns is stealth. And, besides, it’s not like this is the first time I’ve played dress up to save one of you guys,” she added with a smirk, glancing back to Tifa, who was fighting with her sweatshirt and torn jeans. “So, nya,” she said, sticking her tongue out at the grimacing pilot.

He shook his head, grunting disdainfully as the green collar once again sprung up from its hiding place, scraping at the rough skin his neck. “Grow up, brat.”

Knowing full well that she was egging him on, she grinned innocently, shoving her unmoving left hand into its residing pocket. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Frowning, his eyes flitted up to the makeshift bandanna splayed listlessly on her head, noticing her lack of two useable hands. Without any outward hesitation, he stepped toward her, slapping his hand down on her swollen, numb shoulder, and roughly turning her around. “Hold still,” he muttered as his thick fingers spidered over the back of her head, tying the tattered ends into a knot in quick, jarring motions.

As quickly as he’d come to her aid, the Captain swiftly distanced himself from her, crossing his arms and shifting his stare to Cloud. “Nice get up, Spike. Ya supposed to be some sort of gangster?”

The mercenary harrumphed, adjusting his brown leather fedora to fit atop his spiked hair.

Yuffie blinked, her ebony eyes focused upon the gruff pilot for a moment, before deciding to ignore his good deed of the year. Shaking her head once, she looked at Cloud, suppressing the urge to giggle. He hardly looked like a gangster. In fact, the dirt-stained gray business suit (that was about four sizes too large, she noted with some amusement) looked almost clown-like on him, but she’d never tell him that. “Hey, I wasn’t concerned about making a fashion statement or anything; I just wanted something for you guys to blend in with.”

“If these people already know what we look like,” Tifa began, pulling her long thick hair into a haphazard bun, “then what will putting on different clothes do?”

Rude’s eyebrow rose, his bright green eyes boring into her. “You of all people should understand the importance of putting up a good front.”

The brunette glared warily at him, sighing irritably as she strode next to Cloud. “I’m ready to go.”

He nodded, flexing his shoulders experimentally once. “So am I.” He pivoted, casting a quarter-glance over his shoulder to Cid. “How about you?”

The pilot chewed on his lip, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” he huffed with a shrug.

Cloud nodded curtly, facing forward. “Alright then. Let’s mosey.”

The ninja smiled wistfully, her eye straying momentarily to Cid as he shook his head in thinly veiled disgust. Briefly, she checked the older man’s condition. He would have no problem getting in town; he certainly looked the part of a refugee. His hair was flattened with grime, several locks poking out through the oily substance. His clothes (albeit borrowed) were ragged, barely holding any warmth. Three days worth of stubble was showing through the dirt and blood caked on his bruised and burned skin.

And, she discerned, that the gaping wound in his side had been sewed shut and covered in clean white gauze. She wondered exactly what happened last night while she was in Kalm.

Belatedly, she also wondered how why Rude had decided to come with them. Tifa’s short explanation of his arrival hadn’t explained all that much. Maybe he just got sick of the company he’d dealt with. If that turned out to be true, she wouldn’t blame him. “Hey,” she started, walking up next to the silent Turk, “do you need anything to disguise yourself in? I can tell Cid to give you his—“

Rude waved her request away, his face eternally impassive. “Quiet, Kisaragi,” he commanded harshly.

She faltered in her step, tripping over her feet in slack-jawed shock. No one had ever quite talked to her that way before. “What?”

Without acknowledging her stop in movement, he answered, “Don’t talk to me.”

Pressing her lips into a thin line, she narrowed her eyes at him dangerously as he strode away from her. “Hmph, *fine*! See if I ever try to help *you* again, you rude, miserable, *bald* little…” she cursed heatedly under her breath, tromping off towards Cloud.

Her eyes washed over the lush green field that surrounded them, and lost herself in the calmness and serene beauty of the landscape. Suddenly, as she fought off a wave of fatigue that threatened to send her into oblivion, she realized that she needed to get sleep. Her mind was going a million miles an hour in a hundred different directions with the gas tank on empty. Combined, it all meant nothing but trouble.

“So, what’s the plan, Spike?” Cid asked abruptly, silencing Yuffie’s quiet tirade.

Much to her surprise, Cloud’s shoulders suddenly rolled up in a half-hearted shrug. Without breaking step, he twisted his head to peer at her, his cool blue eyes strangely unsettling. Through will alone, she kept her skin from crawling, averting her eyes to the town looming closer as she shook her head clear of the cobwebs that had formed. Yeah, she definitely needed sleep. “Don’t know,” he stated bluntly. “I was assuming Yuffie had one.”

Her eyes quickly found their way back to Cloud’s, as everyone paused to stare at her. Her face fell in a mixture of exhaustion and exasperation. “Actually,” she began, a wisp of a smile on her pale face, “I was hoping you guys could think of something.” She grated her teeth together, waiting for the inevitable uproar.

Cid snorted loudly, chuckling bitterly to himself. Her eyes fluttered closed. Here it came. “You’ve *gotta* be kiddin’ me…” Of its own volition, his hand traveled to the side of his head, as if he were trying to remove something from his hair. “Yer tellin’ me that ya want us to go into a town that’s ready to lynch us on sight, and we don’t even got a *plan*?”

Shaking his head, he dove his hand into his hidden jacket, searching frantically for something inside. With a growl, he finally yanked his hand out and shoved it back into the folds of coarse fabric. “Goddammit, I need a cigarette.”

Frighteningly swift, Rude pulled a Shinra-brand cigarette from his back pocket, a lighter quickly following suit, and handed both to the frazzled pilot. With a look of overdue relief, he plucked the object from his slender fingers, lighting up gratefully. “Thanks,” he muttered between heavy puffs, eyeing the shinobi critically.

Her face twisting slightly in annoyance, she took a defensive posture, glaring back at the haggard blond. “How was I supposed to know there would be some nutcase waiting there to kill all of us?”

He gave her a sour look, expelling two plumes of smoke from his dirt-encrusted nose. “When yer in charge, ya gotta make contingency plans for when shit starts happenin’.”

Yuffie growled, savagely stifling a yawn that tugged at her throat. She was *so* not in the mood for all this. “Look, I know all about switching gears in mid-stride. I did what I was told, and I adjusted as well as I could. Cut me some slack, already.”

As if disinterested, Cloud turned to the both of them, his angular face betraying nothing. “We should get going. We’ll figure out what to do when we get there.” Without another word, he curtly marched forward through the grass, the blades snapping back and forth as if angered by his presence.

Her lips twisted in a half-hearted sneer, wondering exactly what was bothering him. She knew the guy was a bit of a head-case, and had a serious problem in the approachability department, but this was ridiculous. Shaking her head, the teen gaped at Cid, whom was leisurely puffing on his quickly shrinking cigarette. “You get the feeling this is going to be a bad day?”

He harrumphed, eliciting a thick hack. “Since I’ve met up with you nutjobs, it’s been nothin’ *but* bad days.” Stamping the smoldering object in the ground, he started off with his trusty spear in hand, holding it as if it were a walking stick. “Story of my goddamn life.”

For a split second, she thought about asking what he meant, but bit her tongue in the end. It was hardly the time to start prying into his past. She could always bug him about it later.

Yawning loudly, she stretched a miniscule amount of the fatigue from her working limbs, and plodded along with the others. Despite the fact that she was heading into mortal danger in a little over three hours, the ninja felt strangely detached. In all honestly, she hadn’t even had the time to deal with the battle stress that Sephiroth had given her, much less the stress that Meteor, the crash, her sudden leadership, and Barret’s very likely execution added, forcing even more weight down upon her slim shoulders. God, life sucked.

Sluggishly, she glanced up, realizing that she was lagging behind, the others marching a few yards ahead of her. Forcing her legs to do her bidding, she jogged next to Cid, somehow finding slight comfort in his presence. She imagined that was it felt like to have an older brother or father figure that actually cared; not that she *considered* the old goat a role model of any type.

As if he’d read her mind, his head pivoted to look down at her petite form, his face twisted in something that looked vaguely similar to concern. “You okay, brat?” he questioned brusquely.

Keeping her eyes focused forward, she nodded, ignoring the painful crack in her neck. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she answered non-chalantly. “Why?”

He continued to stare at her, skeptical. “Well, yer not tryin’ to pick a fight with me. Ain’t like ya.”

She attempted to scowl, but realized she was using every ounce of strength to continue walking. “I don’t ‘pick fights’, thank you. I push buttons; it’s totally different.”

His eyebrow arched slightly in thought, returning his gaze to the town ahead. “Yeah, right,” he muttered under his breath.

Her sculpted brows knitted together in challenge, clenching her teeth. “You don’t believe me?”

His lips pressed into a thin line, the muscles in his neck going taut. “No, I *don’t*.” Quickly, he glowered down upon her with stormy blue eyes, radiating the commanding presence that had earned him the rank of Captain. “Looks to me like yer about three steps away from droppin’ dead. Now, I’m *guessin’* that’s ‘cause ya didn’t get any sleep last night.”

He continued to glare silently as she silently berated herself for leaving herself open for a lecture from Ye Mighty Captain. Breaking the silence, he huffed, “Ya can’t do a damn thing if ya can’t stay awake long enough to get it *done*.”

“I’m doing the best I can, okay?” she retorted lamely, groaning inwardly.

He paused for a moment, his eyes wandering around pensively. “Look, when we hit town limits, you should try to find a little corner somewhere and get some rest. The trial ain’t startin’ for a while.”

Ignoring the fact that he was right in every single respect, she lifted her head up and glared at him defiantly. “I said I’m *fine*, old man. Drop it, already.”

The pilot scoffed humorlessly, small wrinkles forming where they shouldn’t have been as he scowled. “Oh, cut the goddamn hero crap. It ain’t gonna get ya anywhere. Bottom line, kid, you need the rest.”

Of its own volition, she sucked in a deep breath of air, her eyes watering. Mentally, the ninja winced. Yawning was not the way to prove her point. Quickly, she closed her mouth, keeping her gaze averted from Cid. “Well, how am I supposed to know what to do when I wake up?”

“I’ll fill ya in, alright?” he answered impatiently, fighting back a yawn of his own.

Yuffie’s ebony eyes fell upon the quaint entrance of Kalm town, the old-fashioned rocks painting a deceptive picture of security and wholesomeness. The hundreds of blood-caked, dirt-smeared refugees surrounding the makeshift gallows built in the center of the town square told otherwise. Wearily, she sighed. “You’re not going to let me say no, are you?”

He shook his head curtly, running his fingers through his unruly blond locks. “This ain’t a matter of choice. It’s do or die time,” he stated dutifully, the edge in his voice sharp enough to kill. “Ya got three hours.” Without another word, he passed by her, striding into the crowded entrance and disappearing.

She rolled her eyes at his theatrics, shaking her head. He certainly wasn’t one for optimism, she mused. Holding her breath, the rubber sole of her sneakers thudded upon the dull gray cobblestones, awaiting the certain death she was expecting. When nothing came, she sighed in relief, reveling in the ability to breathe.

Before she’d regained full control of her senses, a hand shot out from behind and clutched her right arm in a grip of iron. “Remember. Three hours,” a deep voice growled quietly. “Make good use of it.”

Eyes wide, she whirled around, finding herself standing amidst a loud, chaotic mob. Hastily darting down into a nearby alley, she settled into the farthest, darkest corner she could find, her mind on full alert. Whoever that person was, it definitely wasn’t Cid, which only made matters worse.

“So much for sneaking in,” she muttered miserably, resting her head against the cool stone wall, forcing her energy-depleted body to relax. Giving in to the fatigue, her eyes fluttered shut, melting into the crevice she found herself in. Just a few minutes, and she would be good as new…

“Yuffie, wake up.”

She groaned in her throat, shifting her weight. This was an awfully uncomfortable bed.

“Hey, Yuffie!”

She shot up into a semi-defensive kneeling position, her ebony eyes snapping open in shock as she fought to focus her vision. “What the hell?” she mumbled quietly, wracking her brain as to why her left arm wasn’t working. “Who’s there?”

The blob of color in front of chuckled faintly. “It’s me, Yuffie.”

Recognizing the honey-laced giggle of Tifa Lockheart, she collapsed back into her corner, the adrenaline drying up in her veins. “What is it?” she whined, slowly banging the back of her head against the chipped plaster wall as her face began to take shape inches from her.

“It’s time to go,” she answered quickly, her gloved hand clamping down on her arm. Without the slightest hint of effort, she hauled the shinobi to her feet, allowing her a few seconds to force feeling back into her tingling, weighted down legs. “We need to get ready.” Before she’d quite understood what the brunette meant, she began walking, pulling Yuffie along.

Blearily, she made sense of her surroundings. “But, I thought Cid was—“

“Cid’s busy,” Tifa replied hurriedly as they neared the mouth of the dingy alley. “He told me to get you.”

As she was half-led, half-dragged down the main square of the overcrowded township, the teen’s eyes fell upon the quaint entrance of Kalm, her eyes going wide with sudden anxiety. For an instant, she withdrew into herself, her face paling to a deathly white.

Snapping her head to the side, she opened her mouth to speak; unaware that Tifa had been talking to her already. “…You get in position around those guards over there,” she stated, nodding in the direction of the burly men guarding Barret’s cell. “And when Barret goes on trial, we’ll sneak in to rescue Red while Cloud and the rest rush the other guards.”

“Wait, Tifa,” she stated, as her iron legs finally began to move as she commanded them to. “That won’t work.”

She released her arm, which now felt bruised, and turned to face her with concern etched upon her flawless tanned skin. “What do you mean?” she asked, glancing around. “It was your idea to wear disguises, right? Nobody knows who we are—“

She shook her head eagerly, her onyx eyes staring pleadingly at hers. “No, it’s not going to work. Somebody knows.”

Tifa’s sculpted brows knitted together in confusion. “Knows? Knows about what?”

“Us!” she exclaimed in reply, throwing her right hand in the air. Sighing, she paused for an instant, recalling the half-forgotten memory. “After Cid left, I walked into the town limits, and some guy stopped me, saying I should make good use of the three hours I have left.” She nodded meaningfully, her thin lips twisting into a sour expression. “How could that happen at random? I’m telling you, Teef, we’re getting set up.”

The martial artist paused, bringing a glove to her lips. “It could’ve been Cid—“

Yuffie dismissed the thought instantly with a wave of her hand. “No way. I’ve never heard the old man speak that well.” She attempted to shrug, her shoulder protesting the movement. “Besides, it’s not his style to be so…covert.”

“He was in the military, you know,” the brunette retorted, her voice neutral. “He was probably taught how to sneak around.”

The teen shook her head vehemently, clenching her jaw muscles to bite back a mixture of fear, annoyance, and fatigue. “Look, just trust me, Teef. Somebody knows that AVALANCHE is here.” Her eyes fell to the dusty stones at her feet, hoping against hope her suspicions were false. “And, I think I know who it may have been.”

Tifa stared at her curiously, ducking back further into the shadows as a group of people passed by the alley, chattering to each other. “Who?” she asked quietly, flickering her velvet brown eyes over Yuffie’s shoulders every few seconds.

Before she’d been able to form any words, a bell chimed loudly, bouncing off the stone walls of the small town and through the chilled morning air. Pivoting, the shinobi faced the bustling town square, people from all walks of forming a loose circle around the rickety wooden platform. “And, these are the people we all saved,” she muttered to herself bitterly.

Tifa elegantly sidestepped her, marching forward to the mouth of the small alley, stopping only to turn and look at her. “Come on, Yuffie,” she stated. “We need to get ready.”

Her ebony eyes darted to hers, frowning. “But, it’s going to backfire.”

“You don’t know that,” she replied tersely, striding next to her and gripping her arm once again. “The others are counting on us to be there.”

Yuffie’s eyes went wide. “We need to warn them—“

“No time,” Tifa said flatly, leading the way discreetly to the wine cellar-turned-cell. “We all have a plan, and we need to stick to it.”

“Even if it won’t work?” the ninja demanded, her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Cid was right; this *is* stupid.”

“It’s the only choice we have, Yuffie,” the brunette said tiredly as she let go of Yuffie’s arm, ducking around the corner as weapon-clad citizens unlocked the shop’s heavy wooden door. “Okay, as soon as everybody’s attention is turned to Barret, we’ll—“

“Excuse me.”

Startled, Yuffie and Tifa whirled around on their leather boots, instantly finding themselves staring down the barrels of two high-powered rifles. The person who aimed at Yuffie, a handsome man in his mid-thirties, flashed her a wide, toothy grin. “Now, ladies, if you’ll be kind enough to walk over that platform. You’re under arrest for treason.”

--There ya go!--

[Weiila]

Oooh! *stares at thread and wills it to update dangit!*

[SilverKnight]

--Well, for the first time in four months, I'm actually going to post something new to this story. I know, I know, it's really, really short. But, there's a larger part coming that will finally wrap this Kalm business up. And, to be honest, I'm really not sure if I should end it there or continue. Oh well, I guess I'll find out when I get there. :D (Edit: Screw it. This is Part IX.)--

Hero of the Day

***

“Feed my brain with your so called standards, who says that I ain't right…
…Break away from your common fashion, see through your blurry sight.”

--Metallica, “Escape”

***

Part IX

***

Cid was ready for anything.

Except having a gun shoved in his face.

He ground his teeth together, his hands instantly flying palm first into the air. “Whoa,” he yelped, hastily slapping on a bewildered look, “hold on, hold on! What’s the problem? What’d I do?”

The lean man stared at him with one eyebrow arched, appearing bored. “We have reason to believe members of AVALANCE are in Kalm, attempting a rescue on the traitor.” He nodded in the direction of the Item Store, Barret’s temporary prison. Cid resisted the urge to strangle him right then and there. “Do you see anybody suspicious?”

The pilot shrugged, his eyes wide with what he hoped look like shock. He stayed out of drama class for a reason. “No, but I’ll keep an eye out for ya.”

The muscled brunette scrutinized him, his angular face washing over his form. He motioned to the down-turned spear in Cid’s fingers. “What’s with the weapon?”

He bit back an expletive. He never *was* that good of an actor. He motioned to his leg, contorting his face in confusion. “Hurt my leg,” he answered incredulously, as if shocked that he would ask such a thing. “Besides, ya know how rough it can be out there. Needed the protection.”

The younger man’s full lip twitched upward, his thin face transforming from bored to sinister in an instant. He ignored the chill that ran up his spine. He didn’t like that look. It was too…confident. “Oh?” he huffed, glancing down to his leg. “Then why weren’t you limping?”

The pilot’s stomach tightened. Shit, he’d been watching him. Scrambling for an answer, he shook his head indignantly, disheveled blond locks swaying in front of his face. “Look, pal,” he started with a hiss, “I don’t know what yer problem is, but I’m just here for the show.”

The man cocked the double-barreled shotgun, hefting it in a show of force.

Darting his eyes around, he willed the others to stand out from the rest of the crowd. When they didn’t, Cid scowled darkly, scrambling for options. He never liked covert situations. He was more apt to just go in and punch somebody instead of having to play cloak and dagger. He was like a fish out of water; this wasn’t his style.

The crowd—which had seemingly packed in around him in seconds—began to boo and hiss loudly, objects of various sizes whizzing through the morning air sporadically. He stared past the ragged, huddled masses, coming to focus on Barret, who was led out of his makeshift prison at gunpoint. Chains of all sizes rattled against each other as they tightly bound his arms in front of him, Red slung limply over his broad shoulders.

His smoky eyes scanned the square in growing desperation, acutely aware of the twelve-gauge shotgun aimed in his direction. Intuitively, his grip tightened around the cool metal spear as the seconds ticked by, finding nothing but a sea of dirty, unrecognizable faces. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Barret being ordered to the center of the wooden platform, weapons pointed at him from all sides.

Time was up.

Cid sighed deeply, snorting. “Aw, fuck this,” he muttered heatedly, his dark eyes flickering up to his aggressor’s dangerously as he brought the lightweight spear to his side. With a skill borne of constant fighting, the pilot wheeled it upward unexpectedly, the glinting blade wrenching the shotgun from the younger man’s fingers as it fired in a screaming explosion. Ignoring the scattering crowd, he launched forward, crushing his fist against the side of the man’s face with all the force he could muster, knocking him to the ground in a motionless heap.

Gritting his teeth, he charged the plywood stage, jutting out his shoulder and ramming the nearest lookout in the abdomen, sending the lanky man reeling into the cobblestone ground. Without pause, he turned upon another guard, jabbing the flat end of the spear into his jaw with a painful crack.

Turning his back to Barret, he grimly noted several men of varying sizes dashing madly towards him from all directions, chains and other weapons dangling from their fingers. He wasn’t going to be able to fight everyone in the town off on his own; at least, not without killing a lot of them. While he would’ve enjoyed putting some of the morons in the crowd out of their misery, he doubted that would improve their reputation. Besides, they’d probably shoot him on sight, and he couldn’t help Barret dead.

His eyes narrowed, hunching down in a defensive posture as the smallest two reached him, wildly swinging their thin bike chains. He twisted out of the way of their feeble attack, ramming the base into one man’s stomach, flicking his wrist expertly and slamming the shaft into the side of the other’s head. Panting, the pilot instinctively ducked down, a meaty fist hurtling past his ear. That was a lucky miss, he thought, as he deflected the large man’s arm, countering with a fist of his own.

The goliath stumbled away, but was replaced by five others, snarling in rage.

“Shit,” he hissed, his nostrils flaring as they closed the distance. Moments passed in a blur of motion, lost in a battle-trance. He was snapped back to reality when a fist glanced off of his face, reopening the gash on his forehead with a small spurt of blood. Grimacing, he rolled with the punch, catching himself as the head wound spilled the tiny rivulets of crimson into his eyes. Blinded by the sting, he tried to blink out the blood, striking out wildly with the spear. Miraculously, he managed to block blow after blow as he was slowly pulled from the platform.

His stomach churned in grim dismay, realizing that the only thing keeping him alive was pure luck. Through bleary eyes, he rose his arms to knock away a light aluminum pole, noticing a moment too late someone come from behind, slamming their fist into his side.

Time stopped for an instant, fire erupting from his ribcage and swiftly engulfing his entire body.

His luck just ran out.

The pilot's deep blue eyes widened, and he cried out hoarsely, doubling over in pain. Before he could recover, a heavy object slammed painfully against his back, sending him to his knees with a dull thud. Gasping audibly, he glowered up to the men that surrounded him—counting ten in all—as they grinned darkly, each of their faces swollen and bleeding in some way.

One stepped forward, hefting a dented crowbar in his scraped hands, a lopsided smirk on his gaunt face. “One good shot deserves another,” he spat snidely, his eyes flashing in malevolence. A jolt of electricity ran its way up his spine, recognizing him as the man who originally threatened him with the shotgun.

Cid's face darkened, summoning up every ounce of hatred he had, and spat up blood-laced phlegm on the man’s boots. “Go to hell,” he growled heatedly.

His eyes shot down to the murky goo that was oozing off his shoe, his lips twisting in revulsion. Shaking with fury, he returned his gaze to the pilot, snarling, “You first.” Without another word, the crowbar made a swift arc toward his head, and he saw a bright flash of white, hearing a distant crack before all went black.

--There ya go!--

[Heaven's Soldier]

You seriously are the master of the cliffhangers, aren't you!!

How could you leave it there, of all places, I want to know what happens to Cid!! But anyway, this is one great fic, and you are one talented author!!

[LunarCry]

I've been waiting avidly for the new stuff ^^ and it's as good as I expected it to be! Great job, SK!