The Bounty-Hunter's Family
Chapter One: Bind One, Bind All
[Scene 01]
The hoodlum's corpse fell with the night rain through the windshield of the family's car in the congested city street, shattering glass everywhere and panicking Tifa, Naminé, and Roxas inside. Though the woman driving gasped in fright and the teenage girl beside her screamed, Roxas was silent in his terror, only jumping back against his seat in the back. As he looked on at the bullet-riddled corpse lying on its spine atop the rain-soaked dashboard of the car, the dead man's glassy eyes gawked into Roxas' own and the boy feared if this was what it meant to stare into the face of death.
When the family's nerves slightly cooled, Roxas recognized the body as Demyx, the two-bit gang member who made a name for himself after gunning down three cops the week before.
Tifa said something, but Roxas couldn't hear. So long as his horrified eyes were locked with Death's, he remained detached from his senses. Tifa then entered Roxas' direct line of sight and severed the trance, her façade of maternal strength heavy with concern. She said something, but he couldn't hear her.
"Hey, are you alright?" the woman seemed to plea in that repeated call, worried for the kids' states. She had already placed a comforting hand on Naminé's bobbing shoulders as the cold rain showered the two in their seats. The poor girl had broken into tears and tried to hide from the cadaver by turning away from it, glass scattered atop hers and Tifa's laps. Roxas, however, remained detached from his senses and it was his absent silence that worried Tifa most of all. But with the connection now broken, sense returned to Roxas and he regained himself in a cold shock. He didn't say anything, but only nodded to the woman's call.
Tifa sighed, relieved the boy could hear him. Then she gave her full attention to the grief-stricken girl in the navigator's seat, trying to soothe her with a calming voice and touch. "Hey. Hey. It's gonna be alright. No one can hurt us now. We're safe."
The woman caught movement in the corner of her eye and turned to see a peace officer haul Demyx's body from the car's hood with one hand. The policeman stood fully armored in the drizzling rain, reflecting an awe- and terror-inspiring form as he held a machinegun in the air with one fist and gripped the dead man by the neck of his hoodie with the other. His badge read "Aeleus."
"Move along, ma'am," Aeleus' exposed mouth said from under the visor of his helmet not a foot away from the car. He motioned straight ahead with his gun and Tifa saw that traffic was slowly moving again. They drove on at the collective snails' pace, the rain now beating mercilessly against the two girls in the front. Naminé couldn't yet look up, but Roxas' focus lay fixed on the stern-faced officer who glared back at him as if to say, "This is where you'll end up if you stray from the law: just another dead punk smeared under my boot."
The message was received.
Tifa used the sleeve of her hoodie to carefully wipe the glass off Naminé's lap when traffic again stopped. "Hey, Roxas," Tifa said, "scoot over. Clear some room for Naminé."
Roxas did so without a word and his adoptive sister joined him in the back row, away from the rainfall Tifa still endured. Not long after, Roxas had to avert his eyes because of the effect the soaking rain had on Namine's dress. He found also she was shivering and could only wonder what perpetual misery Tifa suffered.
At length, Roxas removed his hoodie, confusing the blonde-haired girl beside him. "Naminé," he said, "take off your dress; put this on." She flustered a moment, then Roxas continued, "I won't look. Just put on something dry."
She was hesitant, but undressed and accepted the hoodie anyway and Roxas kept his gaze to the window beside him. Miserable though Tifa was against the heavy rain, her heart was touched at seeing the considerate gesture among the non-siblings. Who said they weren't a real family?
[Scene 02]
They called Xion on the phone so she could run a hot bath for Tifa that would be ready by the time they returned to their one-story suburban home. As Tifa thanked her raven-haired adoptive daughter and went for the bath, Roxas offered to heat some soup to prevent Naminé from catching a cold. Xion, meanwhile, went to work on carefully cleaning out the broken glass from the car.
As usual, Cloud wasn't home.
Roxas extinguished the burner and tasted the chicken-noodle soup before serving it to the girl at the table. He poured a bowl and then placed it before sniffling Naminé, who was now changed into her nightgown.
"There you go," he said. "That should warm you up."
She sniffled, her memory still of the bullet-riddled hoodlum who died mere inches from her, but she returned to the present and accepted the bowl graciously. "Thanks, Roxas." She since stopped crying, but the redness in her eyes was still there.
Roxas nodded. "Don't sweat it." Then he sat in the chair adjacent to hers, contemplating what to say. He waited a few spoonfuls before venturing, "How—how're you taking it? You know, the…" He was never good at comforting others, less so at talking about these things.
"Horribly," Naminé replied, downcast eyes never leaving her soup. That was a more open response than Roxas expected. "A man died right in front of me. He spilled glass and blood all over my clothes and I never saw it coming. And you were there, Roxas. You know I'll probably have nightmares about this for the rest of my life."
Roxas hung his head. "Sorry. Stupid question."
"But what about you?" Roxas looked back up in surprise and Naminé continued, "Tifa sounded really worried about you, like you turned into a ghost or something. A person mourning openly is easy enough to understand, but you…you were so quiet, it's like you were scared to death. How do you comfort someone like that?"
Roxas didn't know how to answer, instead remembering the silent, soul-shattering terror he felt a half-hour ago. He tried to forget. "You don't. You just shake it off and move on."
Naminé made a slight grimace. Traumatized though she was, her mind was clear enough to know Roxas was only pretending to be strong, that he aimed that advice more at himself than at her and that he didn't really believe it. She sighed. "See? This is what I mean."
"What?" he asked, incredulous.
"This," she replied, gesturing at him with her spoon. "It's not healthy pretending like it doesn't affect you. I saw you in the car, Roxas, and that's not something you can just brush under the rug. Healing takes time."
He was surprised, indignant to hear Naminé lecture him when he was only trying to help. The worst part was he heard the loving sincerity in her tone and knew she only meant the best for him. "Well, some people get over it faster than others," he shot back, not meaning to raise his voice but doing it all the same. "Cloud does."
"You're not Cloud," Naminé replied, a subdued intensity in her tired eyes. "You're not some hardened bounty-hunter who sees death every waking moment. You're my little step-brother and I know when you're lying."
Roxas said nothing, speechless, then leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "Don't lecture me," he said, his eyes shifting. "I'm only trying to help."
He was caught off-guard when Naminé slid a spoonful of soup into his mouth. She held him perfectly still with the spoon in her grasp until, flustered, he allowed himself to slurp the chicken-noodle. Naminé held a sad smile the whole time. "You are helping me, Roxas," she said in her soft voice and then slowly retracted the spoon. "The way you gave me your jacket and didn't look when I changed, how you made me this soup and are trying to comfort me…and believe me, I'll need a shoulder to cry on here and there, but don't forget to take your own medicine," she giggled before adding, "ya dumb twerp."
[Scene 03]
Xion crouched on her haunches outside the car to pick up the larger pieces of glass in the vehicle parked in the garage. She wore a thick pair of gardening gloves to keep from cutting her hands open and slippers to protect her feet in case any shards fell. A small garbage bin was at her side to hold the glass. The vacuum reposed behind her, waiting to clean up the smaller fragments.
Xion could only imagine how terrifying it must've been for a criminal's dead body to fall right through the windshield and almost land on top of someone, especially Naminé. Though the eldest of the three teenagers, Naminé also seemed the most fragile. Then she tried to consider the trauma her adoptive family experienced and how shaken they must still be. Noting the drenched interior, she could only marvel at what Tifa had to sit through the whole drive home. Good thing the seats aren't made of leather—she thought to herself.
She searched further for large pieces at the floor of the navigator's seat, where Naminé sat, and found a small, rectangular case—an ocean-blue flash drive, by the look of it—laying on the carpet amid the broken fractals. Hello, what's this?
She picked it up, swept off the glass particles, and took a closer look at it. The thought crossed her mind: This isn't Naminé's. I'd know hers anywhere. …Did this belong to the guy who fell through the windshield? Did it fall out of his jacket or something?
She marveled at it a short while longer, then heard Roxas in the doorway behind her.
"How's it goin'?" he asked.
She jumped slightly, then regained herself and called back to him, "I could use a hand here. Lots'a glass everywhere and I don't wanna be here all night."
Roxas nodded, "Right," and then searched for a second pair of gloves and a garbage bin to clean the driver's side of the car. His stomach wrenched at being so near the scene of the crime again. The sensation dazed him, but he fought to repress it.
Xion slipped the flash drive inside her pocket while Roxas searched for his materials. She'd bring it up later.
"Was it anyone we know?" Xion asked bluntly, motioning to where the body fell.
Her forwardness was shocking, but Roxas answered soon enough. "I think it was that guy Demyx. The one who shot those three cops last week."
Xion's face lit up. "Whoa! You got front-row seats to a famous cop-killer getting taken down?! That's awesome!"
He really didn't know how to answer her. "I…guess that's one way of looking at it."
Xion sucked through her teeth out of a sudden guilt. "Ooh…it was probably much scarier in-person, right?"
"Yeah," Roxas monotoned.
"Sorry," Xion smiled apologetically. "Naminé doing better? She was kinda crying when you came in."
"We talked. It might take a while, but she's a lot stronger than I gave her credit for."
Xion smirked. "Big sis is cool like that." Her smile faded. "Tifa'll probably catch a cold, though."
Roxas finally joined her at the other side of the car and picked up the glass there.
"No word from Cloud yet?" Roxas asked.
Xion sighed. "No. I don't think he's even been home the last few nights. And he hasn't texted or anything. I'd be worried if I didn't know any better."
Roxas reflected on her words. "He's really strong, isn't he?"
"Yeah," Xion said, a clear admiration in her voice. "He's doing a much better job cleaning the streets than the cops are. He's one of the best bounty-hunters out there—no way anyone can hurt 'im. I just wish we'd get to see him more."
[Scene 04]
Cloud staggered from the back exit of a warehouse building and stepped onto the mud under heavy rainfall, bleeding and panting profusely with the blade of a ballistic knife lodged through his long brown coat and into his right shoulder. A gloved hand balancing him against the doorway and the other holding his blaster-pistol, he looked ahead in the darkness and saw his target—a scarred, one-eyed mobster named Braig—trying to crawl out from the large puddle he collapsed into after taking a laser blast to his ribs. Cloud's gun still smoked from the shot.
Taking a moment to jerk the knife blade out from his shoulder with a grunt, the injured bounty hunter trudged the distance to finish off his prey.
Braig's hands splashed through the water until he found what he lost. A smile of desperate relief marked his face and he turned over on his back in the deep puddle to take a shot with the reclaimed Uzi. But the gun shattered in a blast of plasma before the mobster could so much as aim—Cloud was close enough to have made that shot. Despair reclaimed Braig as Cloud—his executioner—stood ominously silent some few feet away.
"You—you just couldn't let little Demyx be, could ya?" Braig pled, a nervous grin overtaking him. "No, you just had to come after one of my own, mess up my operation, and look where we are now. You got me and a lot of my guys, but what about your partner, huh? And what about those people inside? I'll bet they're dead too—the rest of my men finished them off." He gestured to the expansive warehouse behind them, some of his confidence returning, despite the scorching pain in his side. "It's awful quiet in there."
Cloud's eyes were ice-cold, his stony features unwavering and unreadable.
"What'd your partner call you?" the mobster asked. "Was it 'Cloud?' Yeah, that was it. Now, let me tell you somethin' Cloud; you screwed with my family. Demyx, that nephew o'mine, he's a schumck, an idiot—but I could'a had 'im outta the country yesterday if you hadn't stepped in. Just like that, problem solved. The cop-killer would be gone and everybody wins. And if he survives tonight, he's gonna live through hell all because you greedy bounty-hunters can't say no to whatever chump change the cops wave in front a'ya."
Cloud's steely eyes narrowed. Braig caught that and grew bold.
"So lemme put it to you this way," he wheezed from the blaster-shot he took in his side, "forget bounty-huntin'. You sign on with me and you'll be set for life. What was the reward for Demyx? A thousand? Two-thousand? I'll pay you ten-thousand to keep 'im safe. Your regular salary'll be triple that."
Cloud leveled his gun, minding his wounded shoulder. His cold eyes never flinched or showed any sign of consideration in the downpour that drenched them.
Braig grimaced. "What, you gonna kill me? News flash, hunter: there's no price on my head! There ain't even an arrest warrant anymore! You pull that trigger…and you're just a cold-blooded murderer in the law's eyes." He flinched again from his scorched ribs, grateful they were cauterized enough not to bleed everywhere in the deep puddle he was partially submerged in. "So, face it, Cloud. You can't touch me. But work for me and I'll—"
Cloud slammed his boot against Braig's collarbone and effortlessly held him underwater as the mobster flailed his limbs and tried to force him off to the best of his injured ability, but the hunter kept the pressure on and the oxygen bubbles only persisted in their rapid escape from the suffocating villain. Cloud never flinched or showed any sign of his conscience dissuading him. Braig flailed, he clutched for his executioner's leg, but his efforts weakened.
A young woman with rose-colored hair and pale aqua eyes—Lightning Farron, Cloud's partner—emerged from the same back door of the warehouse whence her cohort and the mobster fled, and she paused in momentary shock at watching the blonde man drown the gangster in cold blood, but when she continued her approach, she made no effort to stop him. When she reached the pair, Braig was drowned and Cloud lifted his boot from the corpse.
"No matter how many times we have this discussion," Lightning began, her voice weary, "I still wonder if it was worth it. Risking our lives to take down criminals without a price on their heads…"
"We'd be dead otherwise," Cloud returned, only looking at her sidelong as Braig's body floated in the murky puddle. "Soon as he learned we were the ones after Demyx, he's been looking into who we are. We'd be dead by tomorrow if we let 'im live."
"Meanwhile, someone else gets the reward on Demyx," Lightning replied. "I'm not saying it wasn't smart taking out Braig when we still had the chance, but why even bother with Demyx in the first place? This could've been avoided."
Cloud finally turned to face her. "'Cause I don't want this filth living in the same city as my family."
Lightning grunted, unsatisfied with the answer. "Protecting your family. Yeah, I get that. But those workers in the middle of our firefight had families too, and so did every other civ we endangered on the way here. I don't know how many of them lived or died, but I'll bet we've hurt more families than we saved."
Cloud was silent in the rain, his expression cold with just the smallest hints of contemplation. "Maybe you're right," he said at last. "But I still don't care."
She was only slightly incredulous, having spent enough time with this partner to expect these aloof sentiments from him. Then she sighed and patted his uninjured shoulder, "C'mon. Let's get you patched up."
No other words were exchanged between the two bounty-hunters. They walked under heavy rain for the horizon, where the garish lights of civilization blared from an endless expanse of cloud-piercing skyscrapers and hover-vehicles of the elite swarmed the neon-lit sky.