PLEASE READ - Many, many thanks to Youtube user Grimoire Valentine who posted translated gameplay of the Japan-only mobile game FFVII: Before Crisis online. For those that don't know, I believe it's set at the same time as Crisis Core, but from the Turks' perspective of events. Thanks to the wonders of the internet rabbit hole I discovered this scene where Elfe, a BC character, and Sephiroth face off, and thought it could use a bit of expansion. I used a lot of dramatic license for the fight and fiddled with the dialogue (Sephiroth's lines in particular were about as subtle as a kick in the face) to turn it into this, so I hope you enjoy my first fanfiction! I did my best to make it as cinematic and OTT as any Final Fantasy FMV, any comments would be very much appreciated! I may update it to include Sephiroth's exchange with 'Shotgun' if I get a positive reaction! x
The maintenance access door to the cannon platform crashed open, a dark suited figure emerging into the blazing golden light of the evening sunset. Blinded for a few seconds by the contrast to the control room's gloomy interior, the young woman lowered her head and sprinted across the metal plates, her long blond hair flowing behind her as the sea wind caught it.
Her vision was becoming hazy, a combination of blood loss and oxygen deprivation from the chase dulling her senses. Her once pristine black suit was ruined, slashed in numerous places, soaked with the blood that seeped from her wounds. She was unsure of who or what she had just encountered, but the mysterious, deceptively slim and fragile-looking young fighter had been impossibly fast, agile enough to rival a SOLDIER. The strange girl she'd faced in the mako cannon's control room had darted out of range of her firearm every time she tried to adjust her aim; the shotgun's clumsy reload time only aided her attacker, who swam through her peripheral vision, closing only for the briefest of moments to draw blood before weaving away again. She fought like a Wutai ninja, but with an added streak of cruelty, aiming to weaken her adversary and draw out the confrontation, ensuring the Turk would be fully, painfully aware of her defeat before she drew her last breath. 'Shotgun', as her codename called her, knew there would be no shame in escaping from such an opponent. She had done the only thing she could in the circumstances: abandoned her gun and fled, knowing the heavy lump of metal would only weigh her down.
She struggled for breath, still running, the cuts all over her body stinging in the salty breeze; she couldn't continue much longer, not in this state. She needed to find somewhere to rest, somewhere to hide -
She raised her head, and skidded to a stop as the view confronted her. Oh, Shotgun, how could you be so stupid…?
She'd managed to run to the most inaccessible part of the whole damn cannon, the wide level platform at its base. On either side, the structure fell away, revealing a dramatic drop to the water below, and above her the colossal barrel of the dormant weapon stretched away across the shining sea. In any other circumstances the panorama facing her would have been stunning: the sky and wispy clouds above the glittering waves were stained a fiery patchwork of oranges and reds by the dying light, but in her exhausted state, she barely noticed.
Empty air on three sides and a psychotic terrorist swordswoman on her tail. Short of a miraculous air extraction, it didn't look as if she would make it out of here alive without considerable difficulty. The view leaned and swam dizzyingly in front of her, while blood dripped steadily to the plates beneath her feet. She dropped to one knee, hunched over, focusing only on catching her breath. You've made it this far - don't embarrass yourself by falling off the damn thing instead of putting up a fight. Breathe, you moron!
Footsteps behind her. 'Shotgun' forced herself to her feet, willpower alone holding her up, and turned to face her death.
The girl looked barely out of her teenage years; her age was difficult to pin down, but she had showed an astonishing amount of skill with a blade for one so young. She had a petite, almost boyish figure, clothed in a simple, plain dark green jacket, matching trousers cut off at the knee, and heavy-looking, almost oversized worn combat boots. How she could possibly move so fast in them was a mystery. The tattered gray cape that flapped behind her in the wind seemed an odd touch, but it looked well used - perhaps it had some sort of sentimental value to her. Jaw-length chestnut hair framed a face that should have been pretty, but was given a strangely lifeless quality by her emotionless, detached expression and empty eyes. The katana she held glowed as the sunlight caught it; the young warrior raised it in one hand, pointing it accusingly at the wounded Turk.
"Are you ready to meet your fate, Shinra lackey?" Her voice was disarmingly quiet and husky, not what she'd expected from such a soulless killing machine.
'Shotgun' was struggling to find a suitably defiant response when something moved behind her opponent, distracting her. She squinted, trying to get her eyes to focus… no, not something, someone… tall, wearing black, walking towards them across the plates without making a sound - perhaps a colleague, she thought hopefully. Then, appearing out of the hazy dark silhouette, the shine of a long, slim blade, glinting dangerously in the light, caught her attention. She knew exactly who this was.
The green-clad girl gripped her weapon in both hands, raising it for a swing as she adjusted her stance. "Very well. Die in silence then, coward."
The Turk's gaze drifted back over her shoulder, to where the silver-haired SOLDIER was approaching with a careful predator's stride. The attack happened so fast she could have missed it if she'd blinked: Sephiroth swung the masamune back and ran the last few steps, building momentum for a devastating downward slash at the girl's unguarded back.
Elfe was not sure what alerted her; perhaps the telltale sound of light footsteps or the faint whoosh of a blade slicing air. Reflex more than anything drove her to turn and raise her sword in half a second, a panicked gasp escaping her, only to find herself eye to glowing green reptilian eye with a living legend. The impact was awesome, jarring her entire body as the clash of metal reverberated across the cannon and out over the sea, sparks flying. Surprising herself, never mind the general, who appeared visibly startled for the briefest of moments before regaining composure, she held the block in spite of the increasing pressure against her own blade, a snarl of frustration at her inability to push him back ripping from between clenched teeth. The metal buckled under her feet, her muscles aching from the strain.
"Interesting," Sephiroth noted with a hint of a smirk. He relented unexpectedly, stepping back and lowering the masamune in one quick movement. "Who are you?"
She met his intense, wary stare with a defiant gaze, lifting her chin proudly. "My name is Elfe. I'm the leader of AVALANCHE."
Sephiroth scanned her with a critical eye, gauging whether she was telling the truth. She didn't exactly look the part, but she'd said it with enough conviction and, unusually, showed no sign of fear… now for the acid test. "Well…" he raised the sword in a double handed grip and met her eye down the flat of the blade in an open threat. "I'm sure you know how it is - duty calls."
"Indeed." Elfe adopted a defensive stance, slightly crouched, shifting her weight to her tiptoes. She'd need to be exceptionally quick on her feet for this. "Disappointing, really. The great Sephiroth… you're no different than any other Shinra lapdog."
Far from riling him up as she'd hoped, the attempted insult just seemed to amuse him. She watched him take a couple of steps to the left, beginning to circle with an almost catlike grace, perfectly balanced, and made a move likewise. Sephiroth used the opportunity to take a swing at her, presumably hoping to catch her off balance. Her quick reactions saved her, but only by inches. The blade whipped past her face, so close she felt the slipstream brush against her skin. She'd barely recovered from her surprise at hearing the metal singing, actually reverberating from the force of the swipe, when the next blow came. Elfe deflected it with milliseconds to spare, but there was no breathing room to follow; he was inhumanly fast, pressing the advantage with another three smooth successive attacks at her in a blur of black and silver. Somehow, moving on instinct without even time to think, she was able to parry them all, but as she caught the final upward sweep she could feel herself tiring faster than usual. She could only assume it was a result of Sephiroth's famous speed and ferocity - but whatever the reason, she needed space, fast. You can't beat him in a straight fight - so cheat. Use your environment.
On her right was a circular air vent, raised slightly from the uniformity of the structure. Not far to her left, a thick tubular mass of pipes emerged vertically from the plates, before turning at right angles, about five feet above the platform's surface, to track back towards the control room, encased in a cage of crisscrossed steel bars. It wasn't much, but it might give her the advantage of height, at least. She could improvise.
Sephiroth seemed to sense that she'd backed herself into something of a tight corner; his next attack was a one-handed downward slash, an attempt to finish her off, but rather than blocking it Elfe darted right. With the masamune's song ringing in her ears, she ran up the 'wall' provided by the air vent and launched herself off it in the opposite direction, dimly aware of the screech of metal and shimmer of sparks as a vicious sideswipe sent the narrow blade slicing right through the spot she'd been in milliseconds ago. There was an explosion of steam as the upper section of the air vent toppled away, but it didn't impede SOLDIER's finest significantly as he spun and whipped the sword at her even as she landed on one hand atop the steelwork before pushing off again, using all the momentum she had left. She landed back on the platform, seamlessly rolling to evade another swing, before finishing up on one knee, weapon raised in a double handed block. She was breathless but, incredibly, still alive. She thought she'd made it through unharmed, but only now she became aware of a stinging pain and the warmth of blood dripping along her arm from a cut on the outside of her wrist. The tip of the sword must have nicked her when she had landed on the pipes - it was a mere scratch, but nevertheless meant he'd judged her position with an impressive degree of accuracy, despite the steam and her own unpredictable movements. If this kept up she wouldn't last much longer.
To her surprise, the attack she'd set the block for didn't come. Sephiroth had lowered the masamune and was eyeing her with a small but genuine smile on his face, his light green eyes with their slitted, catlike pupils studying her with something close to fascination. That was fun, his expression said. Let's do it again. "Who taught you to fight?"
"I wish I could tell you," Elfe said, maintaining her defensive position - and she meant it too. Her amnesia was her greatest curse, but it left her with nothing to lose. That was why she'd joined AVALANCHE.
Sephiroth seemed caught off guard by her unexpected answer, but then shrugged it off, reverting to his usual cool composure. "So do I. It seems a sad waste of talent, having to kill you…"
Elfe glared at him. "But you'll do it anyway. You'll follow orders, won't you - regardless of the cost. Sure, you can fight like nobody else on the planet, but do you even know what you're fighting for?"
She was startled by the effect her words seemed to have on him: Sephiroth averted his gave, left hand flexing on the hilt of the sword, seemingly rattled by the question. So she decided to take the slim opportunity she had, however suicidal it might appear. "We know what we're fighting for, and why. That's why we know that sometimes you have to retreat for the sake of a later victory."
And with that, she turned and sprinted faster than she ever had in her life, without looking back. Spurred on by the sound of footsteps behind her, she put on a burst of speed, and as the song of the blade sounded at her back, she swan-dived off the platform into the void.