Disclaimer: I do not own any ff7 characters.

Summery: This is the stories of Biggs, Wedge and Jessie, the deceased members of Avalanche. Each character will have their own seperate account following their childhood up to their deaths. Please tell me what you think and if you like the concepts. Ideas and criticism is welcome.

'They got something to say 'no' to.'

- Gorillaz, Kids with Guns

Sparkler Part 1

Jessie McKenzie was a slum rat from the moment of her unplanned and unwanted birth. Her Ma had been a teenaged mother at the age of seventeen when she fell pregnant. Nine months and a hasty marriage later and Jessie was born in Sector Five in the middle of the night.

She couldn't blame her mother for slightly resenting her first child. It had pretty much sealed her fate to the slums forever, married to an out-of-work gambling electrician, struggling to raise her and the four boys who would later enter the world.

Her father, twenty-one years old when he married her mother, was already stuck with rearing his two-year old half brother, and did not particularly relish the thought of a daughter.

It wasn't that he was a bad man. He didn't drink much. Well, less then most slum men, and he never laid a hand on her mother or his children. After a while, he didn't mind being a father. Then again, he was only home for a limited amount of time at the beginning. He didn't gamble so much in the beginning either.

The small family house was a mismatch of different materials. As the family grew, her father, who was known as Macca, had to erect some additional rooms to fit them all in. The Shamble House, they called it. Jessie, Gren, her half uncle and Dan, the oldest brother, helped him. They scrounged the Sector for building materials. Adrift planks of wood and sheets of tin would be taken for the walls. They stole materials from Shinra building sites, careful not to get caught. Loose bits from existing buildings would be skillfully pilchard from unobservant tenants. The Shamble House got most of its furniture that way.

Jessie's childhood was one shared by most in Midgar. She, Gren and Dan, and the other boys when they were old enough, ran amok on the dirty metropolitan streets that were their home. They fought over marbles, started a gang, stole food and did chores for those who could pay them. The other kids knew them as the 'McKenzie lot', and Gren was their leader, with Jessie in second command. She cut no slack from any kid who gave her a hard time for being a gixie. She grew up tough, Jessie did.

They even had a gang hideout, made in one of the Sectors junkyards. They used tires for seats and lumps of wood and brick as a make shift table. They were proud of their hideout, something to be called as their own. They decorated it with glass and bits of smashed tile that they found. They had even managed to scrounge a couple of cracked mugs from the yard.

Gren and Jessie would often come home covered in sores and bruises from the latest gang scuffle. Her Ma would scowl at them both then, before roughly pulling them over to be patched up. Harried by the burdens of child rearing, she had little time for sympathy. The young boys would turn to Jessie instead. She didn't mind, being a kind of second mum at such a young age. Besides, one more kid was another pair of fists that could be counted on in a street fight.

Gren, Jessie, Dan, Pete, Arn and Ray. That was the pecking order. The older kids looked out for the youngers, at school (where they rarely attended), at home or the streets. It was dangerous to be caught alone.

Macca worked a lot in those days, coming home in the late hours and leaving early in the morning. Her Ma worked as well, as a seamstress, when she could get the work. They had quiet a brood to feed, ole' Macca and his Missus.

When Jessie was eight, Gren broke his arm. He had been trying to climb one of the Sector walls. They had done it before, but could never reach the plate. Gren wanted to, he fell. Jessie was scared then, she thought he had died. She had always thought that Gren was invincible, but he was only two years older then her.

Macca had laughed when they told him what they had been trying to do, before carrying the lad to the closest thing to a quack the Sector had. Ma had been steaming at them, it had cost them a fair amount, and gil was hard to come by. Gren had had his arm put in place, but it always hung on a funny angle after that. He had to wear it in a sling for months after. Despite being left handicapped, he wore the sling like a badge of honour.

With Gren out of action for a while, Jessie had taken control of the clan. Business as usual. Stealing food and little bits of junk when they could, breaking up fights between Pete and Arn.

Her Ma started making her work harder at school after that. Or, at least, she had tried. The poor mot saw that her slum gutter daughter was turning out just like her, and she wanted more for her offspring then that.

'You gixie, don' you slack off now, or ye'll wake up one morn an' find yourself with a brood of chillun'!'

Jessie felt bad, and tried as much as she could be bothered. She didn't know how much of a difference it would have made; Slum education didn't count for much. She could read and write fair enough, but she wasn't a letters person. She liked to use her hands, like Macca.

Being a sparky was hard work, said her Da. It was long hours and in much demand, but in the slums there was only so much you could expect to be paid. Life could have been better, though, if he didn't gamble.

On her tenth birthday, Macca took her by the shoulders and asked her if she wanted to help out the family some more.

'Macca, I always look after the chillun' you know that.'

'Yeah, but girlie, you wanna help us pull in some gil? We're goin' through a bad spell at the moment, you wouldn' mind giving yer ole' Da a hand, would you?'

She had raised her eyebrow at him to show him she was listening. He chuckled; it was an old habit of his.

'Whadda 'bout Gren?'

'Aw, Jes, you know he'll never be a sparky, he's a soldier, tha one. He's already got his sights on joining Shinra.'

It was true. Gren the leader, Gren the adventurous, Gren the fighter. Jessie knew he wanted out of the Slums. During the past year, he had slowly stopped coming to the hideout, not joining in the clan's escapades, trying harder then she to do better at school. You had to be smart to join SOLDIER, resourceful.

The McKenzie lot was splitting up.

She rolled her eyes at him.

'Allrigh' Macca, I'll help you.'

'That's me girl.'

So, she started as an apprentice. That's what ole' Macca called her. He would smile roguishly and ruffle her hair, as if she were a lad, and joke to his friends.

'Jes is me apprentice, take over the family trade, eh?'

She didn't help out too much, at first. Ma was pregnant again and needed help round the house. The boys needed her too, to keep them in line. They would go feral if she weren't there to keep them in check. But slowly, she began spending more and more time helping her Da. Even if she simply fetched tools for him, Macca took her around. She didn't mind too much, really.

Ma liked her working too. Macca gambled less when she went with him.

A year passed. Jessie turned eleven. Gren turned thirteen.

It was April. They recruited lads for service in June.

She didn't want Gren to go. He was my best friend, as well as a brother. She never had seen him as an uncle, it just didn't work.

Jessie cornered him one day, in the junkyard. She had just found out he had signed up for the entrance exam. He was making slashing movements with a rusty iron rod as she approached. Jessie stood there watching him for a while.

'Hyah!'

'That's the poorest battle screech I ever heard.'

He jumped at the sound of her voice, dropping the rod.

'Ah-huh? Jessie?'

He scowled at her.

'What you want? Can't you see I'm practicing.'

'…Why've you signed up?'

'Wha-oh, Jes, ye know why, I told you 'ready.'

'Tell me again then, 'cause I still don' get why you wanna leave us!'

Gren sighed and stopped trying to resume training. He walked over to her.

'Jes, I've told ye enough times, I'm not gonna lose my life in this scut hole. I don't wanna rot down here.'

He turned away from her and gestured to the overlying plate.

'I wanna see the sky with me own eyes afore I die, as a free cove. SOLDIER will give me that.'

Jessie folded her arms and scowled at him. She still didn't see his way of thinking. After all, Shinra and their SOLDIER's were the ones who made them like this.

'Whadda 'bout us? You're gonna go and leave us down here, are ye?'

Gren made an exasperated face at her.

'I told yer, I'm gonna still visit, yer bugnob, and I'll be getting' paid too. I'll be able to contribute now.'

'You could contribute down here.' She said sullenly.

'What? As an apprentice to a cove who gambles all his money away afore looking out for his brood? I wanna do better in life then that Jessie, better!!'

'How dare you say that about Macca, you cuddy scut-face! Me an' him work damn hard, don't speak of him like that-'

Jessie threw herself onto Gren and started laying into him hard. She had got him by surprise, but it wasn't long before Gren responded. They scuffled on the ground, punching, kicking, and scratching at one another.

Jessie grabbed a chunk of his hair and shoved Gren's face into the ground. He let out a muffled yelp before throwing her off and getting her in the stomach with his knee. She keeled over, winded, before struggling as Gren sought to pin her down.

'You-'

He winced as she snaked a hand up to claw him in the face.

'-little-'

Knocking back her hand, he shoved his own forward into her face. She tried to bite him.

'-minx-'

Gren tussled with her, managing to elbow her in the ribs before Jessie wriggled out of his grip and scrambled away.

They circled each other wearily, both breathing hard. Jessie could see that Gren's nose was bleeding, and her claw marks stood out white on his flushed skin. Herself, she could feel that she had a split lip, and her stomach and ribs hurt bad. She also realized she was crying.

Gren saw too, he stood up straight and opened arms, reaching for her.

'Aw, Jes, lookit, I didn' mean what I said.'

'Stay away!' she screeched at him, but made no move to leave. Jessie was crying seriously now. She could even hear her own sobs. She tried to stop but couldn't control it.

'Gren, why'dya have ta go!!' she howled.

He looked uncomfortable, before stepping towards her and giving her a rough hug. The McKenzie lot were close, but they weren't really a 'huggy' family.

Gren waited until Jessie stopped crying. She pulled away from him to glare accusingly.

'I'm getting' out Jessie. You don' wanna stay here f'ever. Do ye?'

She shook her head fiercely.

'Well, I'm getting' out quick smart. Them smeg's on the plate ain't gonna help us, they don' even care, so I gotta get up there without their help. I'm gonna be a SOLDIER, Jessie, so no-man can tell me what ta do.'

She sniffled again and looked to the ground.

'Jessie?'

'Mnn.'

'Do ye get me?'

'…'

Jessie heard him sigh and step away. She looked up in time to see him wipe the blood away from his face. She felt tears coming to her eyes again.

'Gren?'

He looked at her. She stared at the ground again, grinding her right foot into the dirt.

'…you…ye will write an' visit us, won't you?'

'I said I would, didn' I?'

'…yeah but…'

'You're a duck-nob sometimes, Jes.'

She scowled at him behind his back, running up to follow him home.

That April, Gren applied as a rookie recruit. He passed on the spot. He left the slums to train with the Shinra Force on the Upper Plate, so that one day, he could get into SOLDIER.

Jessie didn't cry as he boarded the train. She was head of the clan now. Macca's right hand gixie.

Authors Note: Hope you liked it. Just a quick glossery on some of the Slum slang terms I used, pilfered from a veriaty of sources.

Gixie: girl, Cove: man, Mot: woman, common born, Scut: idiot, Bugnob: peron of little brain, Cud: slob, Chillun': children, smeg: derogatory term (go red dwarf!)

Please review.