Chapter 1
The world was in an ever shifting state of flux, it shifted and changed in a heartbeat. For thirty years societal changes had led people to see the world as a dark place, full of malice and misery. For these disillusioned souls there had to be a pinnacle, a place that mirrored their perception, a place that hammered home that their planet was nothing more than a ball of congealing corruption.
The western continent housed that very location, it was a city of the future, a civilisation that surpassed every achievement mankind had placed under its belt. Midgar was the crowning glory of the new order, governed by the secular corporation named Shinra. Unlike every other settlement, this metal monstrosity had two levels. It was the ultimate oppression against those who had nothing and the ultimate worship of those who had everything.
Many angry young singers crooned bitter songs of how heaven and hell was not an afterlife, but an eternity of suffering or bliss within the boundaries of Midgar. The belief was not far wide of the truth. Ultimately, the city was a world that thrived on chaos and domination. On the upper plate everything a person could want laid in wait. With nothing other than the corporation's headquarters dwarfing their horizons, the people of the upper tier gorged themselves on cleaner air and basked in the glory of the sunrise and sunset. Their homes were made from bricks and slates, functioning drains carried the rainwater away. More than this, their streets were not clouded with fighting members of public.
In the lower levels, life was much more of a challenge. Life in the lower city was where razor sharp wit and brutal savagery were needed to survive. Few kind hearts were offered to strangers here, indeed, many of the gangs saw the word stranger as a euphemism for enemy. The Shinra Security Forces didn't care. For the corporation, it was more economical for gangs to burn each other to ashes than arrest them.
As a result, the slums saw fearful citizens cower together, all huddled in their shanty houses. Pitiful dwellings forged from road signs, rusted drain pipes and other clutter that the people found within the streets. In the movies, whenever a disaster occurred, people always scuttled from the rubble to fight amongst themselves for survival. Midgar was different, the people needed no disaster, they needed no excuses. With nothing else of worth left in the city, the dwellers fought hard and played harder.
This bitter reality had forced the group to embark on their ambitious subversion of the corporation's iron grip on the populace. Most people had fought amongst themselves, or tried futile attacks on the ruling government and been subsequently executed. None of the groups before them had been so unified, so driven to pull off the daring and calculating ploys. Avalanche, the name the corporation uttered with hateful disdain. They were a small subversive eco-warrior group that had made their name in the aftermath of the Wutai war. If Shinra had believed that defeating the eastern warriors had earned them dominance. The Genesis crisis had forced them to be wary of danger at their own doors.
Avalanche had seized upon it, launching attacks on the Shinra's biggest events. Corporate dinners, parades, big openings. Each time they had left their mark, drawing minimal bloodshed but leaving in their wake a legacy of anarchy that undermined the faceless corporation.
Tonight would be no different, at least that was the hope. Though this time they had one extraneous variable to control. As the group lay quietly on the roof of the train, all their eyes fell upon him. The new recruit. Newcomer was what they had called him. They might have felt unified before the mission was briefed out, but since the moment he had been introduced, the group's eyes kept darting askance, drinking in the image of the warrior.
He had been told that he was striking, his head sported a blonde mane that had been drawn into unruly spikes. From a distance he apparently looked like some biker pin-up that teenage girls would drool all over. The wind swept his hair about in a random manner, which annoyed him. His hair may have stole the limelight to most, but it was his eyes that truly garnered a response. When serving in the forces he had been told that his eyes would drink souls. They were a very deep blue, but at the edge was a twinge of green. People must think I have a streak of supernatural energy coursing through my body. He intoned silently.
He was completely out of place on this mission, Avalanche were the sworn enemy of Shinra, but he wore a classic uniform reserved for the first rankers in the deadly Soldier army. It comprised a mesh jumpsuit that was a fusion of black and purple, despite the infusion of the lighter shade, it was actually rendered more difficult to see with the naked eye in dark areas. The multi-tone nature of the colours meant it could easily fade into the background. Meanwhile, a pair of heavy shoulder pads were strapped in place either side of his neck, thick spikes jutting from them.
On his back was a weapon that really struck a chord. The sword was styled in a similar way to an ancient broadsword. Its blade easily forty-two inches long, and at least three inches thick. Most would ponder if he chopped through his opponents or merely clubbed them to death like he were swinging a nail studded baseball bat.
"Station approaching!" One of the activists yelled suddenly. "About one mile left before we slow for station one!"
"Awright, everyone be ready!" The leader called as he ducked swiftly into a recess on top of the train.
For three minutes the bumpy ride continued before a hideous screeching sound excreted from the rails beneath. A final puff of energy twinged steam was spewed from the front locomotive before all activity ceased. Silently the group prepared their assault, their eyes monitored the two guards who patrolled the platform. The leader threw his left arm up and instantly his two point-men began the assault.
The first warrior that he saw attack the guards sported a dark green outfit that ended just below the figure's knees, carefully tucked into a pair of brown boots. The red bandana that held the rough mane of black hair in place; fluttered in the light breeze. Silently he watched his ally slide up to the edge of the platform, hidden in the space between the rails and the under tray of the carriage. The activist waited patiently for the first guard to walk on by before leaping up from the blind spot.
The thick baton in his right hand smashed against the centre of the guard's skull, a sickening sound filled the air as it began to dislodge from the tip of his spine. Dazed and confused the guard staggered around, only for the fighter to thrash the club into his windpipe. Desperately the sentry attempted to breathe, his mouth sucking frantically at the air, hoping to draw oxygen into his lungs. The terrorist turned his back as the man's face turned purple around the visible jawline, before his quarry collapsed into a heap, the suffocation complete.
Behind the man came the sound of a clicking. He watched the activist as the barrel of the gun was pointed at his back from a distance. What a fool! He contemptuously thought, the fighter should have hauled the guard down to the rails, rather than leave himself open for a capture at the other end. Slowly his ally sank to his knees, placed his hands on his head and interlocked the fingers.
As the guard slithered along the platform the second fighter silently appeared from the crawl space between each car. Unlike her comrade, the armour she wore was a dull grey, designed to slip into the surroundings of machinery and industrious workmanship. Her long brown hair was also held back by a thick red bandana, despite this a long set of strands fluttered uncontrollably at the sides of her head.
The woman's eyes were trained on the enemy, the thick metal armlets that guarded her wrists shone as the light of a nearby street-lamp kissed them delicately. The girl's palms clutched tightly at a pair of knives, the silvered blades held with a reverse grip so that they pointed towards her own body. Stealthily she followed her target, her movements silently mirroring that of her quarry. As the careless guard reached for his belt to retrieve a pair of handcuffs, she pounced. Quickly turning her knives the other way around, the blades stopping barely an inch from the guard's throat. The figure gave a yelp of terror before the edges ripped through his jugular, spraying blood across her ally's back. Much more like it, maybe they are not so stupid after all? He contemplated from atop the train car.
"You could have made him mess up the platform instead of me!" The idiot protested as he clambered back to his feet.
"And you better look out when in a fight!" Their leader called, "these lot ain't jus' some raw cadets."
"You don't have to worry about Soldier." He called before he vaulted from the train in a flamboyant somersault. "It's not likely that Shinra will have them patrolling the reactors."
"That's cuz all the others are distractin' them suckers! The big fight in Sector Two is all that they's be caring about!"
He shook his softly. "It's only a good ploy if we are quick enough to exploit it."
The leader's eyes narrowed. "Jus' becuz you were once a Soldier don't make you leader. But you's right, we's better move out!" Ahead of him the group darted for the edge of the platform, leaving him alone.
As they departed he realised that he didn't even know their names, it summed up all his feelings for the mission ahead. This was not some battle that he would gleefully die for, not like anything he had been involved with for the conglomerate. There was an irony in that; one of their former elite had turned traitor. He doubted that his former comrades in arms would ever be driven by anything other than a wish for his death.
Silently he walked up to the first corpse and roughly searched through the pockets of the uniform, swiftly pocketing a couple of tiny curative items. Disappointingly they had possessed no money to pilfer or weapons that were of any use. Giving up the search of the body he made for the exit when a light that hung from the platform roof flashed. He cursed and realised that the general alarm had gone off.
Angrily he darted free of the platform and turned back to face the archway that led directly on to the platform of Sector One. A pair of guards ran along it with assertion and speed, the signal box that had housed them stood on the horizon and he grinned, Shinra had been more intelligent than he anticipated. Carefully he slid against the wall, out of sight of the entrance door. Quickly he drew in a deep breath and held it. His heart beat slowed, and the silence grew.
The guards fell for the ruse and rushed free and onto the street. Comically they looked on ahead, confused, when the sound of metal cutting the air caught their attention. It proved too late, the huge blade completed a semi-circular arc, both heads fell to the cobbled road outside the station a mere heartbeat afterwards. Coolly their killer glanced back and saw that the station had fallen into silence, with no other guards in sight. Smoothly he threw the sword over his shoulder, the two holes in the blade slotted obediently over the magnetic orbs that had been fashioned into the back of his suit, securing the weapon and freeing his arms.
With no threat of attack, he drank in the image of Sector One. Like all other parts of Midgar, it was an imposing vision, colossal girders sprang up from deep beneath the cobbled roads with concrete pathways that ran parallel at their side. A deep ringing sound tolled in the distance, a soundtrack of constant banging, as if ten thousand iron mongers smelted simultaneously. The sky, normally so vibrant and light, was hazy and muzzled, the Mako driven smog suffocated the northern part of the metropolis.
"Huh?" The green clothed terrorist called as he turned to face him, the sound of his thick boots had roused the ally from the daydream he had fallen into. "So you're the new guy eh?" The joker announced, offering out his hand. He ignored it. "Heh... You're really serious about things aren't you? Don't say too much. We don't even know your name."
"Cloud." He replied cuttingly, with no hint of comradeship.
"Cloud eh? Well my name's Biggs, that there is..."
"Do me a favour." He began, "save your breath. I don't care what your names are, I am here for this mission, after that I am done."
"Hey man! What kind of attitude is that? Want some quick cash before you go back to Soldier?" The ally protested at him.
He felt his eyes narrow as he stared back at the man. "If I were going to go back to Soldier, you'd either be dead, or shackled to the back of a truck being dragged to the Shinra tower. Now, if you want to keep your tongue, stop it wagging."
Ahead, the woman fighter turned her head to him. "Let's save the brawling for the inside of that reactor right? Getting the mission done is what matters isn't it?"
"Save your breath Jessie, guy isn't worth it."
The woman threw her gaze back at the small computer screen that she had been transfixed on, the ambivalence clearly threw her nerves all over the place. With the issue of comradeship buried, he kept his eyes focused on the huge iron gate that stood between the high concrete walls of the reactor. It reminded him of a prison, he pictured the vast entrance opening up and truckloads of shackled inmates being flung into their cramped cells.
Despite the gate, the reactor lacked the fearful image that an ancient prison had, though it certainly matched it for size. The main cooling tower rose way above his head, as his neck craned further backwards in a vain attempt to view the tip, he gave up once at full stretch and guessed the height to be at least two hundred feet.
"Where's Wedge?" Jessie asked suddenly.
Biggs chuckled. "How could you misplace a fat git like him?" Jessie rolled her eyes, while he simply ignored the whole conversation. He was beginning to feel like the mission would be a disaster, having been the only one to cut off a rear assault, he now found two of the main techs joking in the street about one of their own. "Heh... Well anyway, you know what he does best right?" Biggs continued. "He's up on the roof of the train station, scanning the distance."
Before he could ponder the success of that ploy, the leader stormed into view from the right hand road. As the figure was surrounded by the light of the lamps, he found himself taking a long look at the man. Unlike many of the populace, the figure was dark skinned, with a stubbly beard formed along the line of his chin. While his hair had been cut razor sharp in the style of a marine. The figure's biceps bulged with the veins visible to the naked eye. It was as if the fighter had eaten steroids for breakfast.
As unusual a look that was, it was not what made the man so eye catching. Not even the rough clothes, a sleeveless brown bomber jacket and thick green khaki trousers combo with thick platform boots; was what dragged his eyes to the man. No. It was the right arm, where normally a fist hung, was instead a large eight barrelled mini-gun. He also took in the image of a long bullet-belt coiled repeatedly around his body, no doubt it would feed the slugs into his arm. It was an awesome and terrifying sight.
"What the hell did I tell you lot?" The leader screamed suddenly. "Stupid idiots are gonna get us busted! Don' move in a large group!"
Jessie blushed. "I am still trying to figure out the way in, the gate lock is easy with my ice breakers, but that floor is the problem." She announced, pointing at an illuminated square that covered almost the entire pavement directly in front of the gate.
"Wha's that all abou'?"
"That's a security hot plate Barret, Soldier boy Cloud would know more about it." Biggs sniped suddenly.
"How abou' it?" Barret asked swiftly, "why's it so important?"
"You enjoy fighting an army?" He asked in retaliation. "Like the idea of battling the Shinra guards, Turks and Soldier in one fell swoop? Well if you do, step right up. That plate is connected to a security line that is priority 1-A. I remember when some drunk clot staggered on one at four in the morning. You've never seen so many pissed off members of the militia."
Barret snarled. "Then how we gonna ge' 'round it?"
He smiled. "Find a way to get the breaker into the slot without touching the pad. While you sort that, I am going to check on your wide boy." Quickly he slipped away from the street.