THE FATALITY OF DEATH
Chapter One: Rising
The sun was rising in the Eastern clouds, piercing through the clouds and casting its warm light across the countryside of Midgar. I yawned heavily as I slowly pulled my gaze away from the typewriter in front of me and stared blankly out of the window. I didn't know how long I'd been stuck at this desk, finishing a report for 'sheriff'; considering the stubble on my face and the smell that had enveloped the room, I would estimate longer than I would have hoped. Pouring a gin and tonic into a spotless glass from a flask I kept nearby, I swigged at it eagerly, wishing its calming effects upon me. Just as I set the glass down, I heard a beeping sound from close by; trying to ascertain the source of the noise, I realised the PHS Emergency Line had been set off. Thinking it was probably just one of the office babes trying to contact me desperately, I took out the PHS device and turned it on to send communication.
"This is Cloud," I began, as smooth a voice as I could muster. "requesting orders. Over." I chuckled lightly to myself, expecting any second the soothing, beautiful voice of one of my many female fans.
"Cloud!" Came a booming voice from transmission; I jumped with fright in my chair, not expecting to hear the voice of the 'sheriff' at all! "Cut the crap and tell me where you are, immediately!" the voice struck again.
"Sir, I'm in one of the outpost houses situated in the seventh quadrant grasslands exterior to Midgar. Over." I replied, with accurate profession. I couldn't imagine what the sheriff would be doing contacting me on the emergency line, though.
"Well, grab a suitcase and make your way into Central Midgar, boy!" the voice snapped; I could hear the sound of a cigar being smoked from the other side; it must have been a Cuban; the sheriff had a liking for those.
"R—right away. Over and out." I said, many thoughts rushing around in my head. Holstering my PHS, I took another swig from my gin and tonic and lit up a cigarette. What the hell has the sheriff gotten us into now?
I didn't have many things to take with me on the journey to Midgar; all I needed was a pack of Lucky's and a bottle of gin. My Colt .45 automatic stayed by my side, I didn't need to suffocate it into some dark suitcase. Grabbing the dull, metallic grey suitcase from my bed, I stuffed the train tickets into my overcoat and placed a hat upon my head. I didn't need any recognition on my way home, so decided to lay low as best as I could when aboard the overnight train to Midgar. The train station was situated quite far from where I lived, so I took my old trusty motorbike with me. Usually I would have driven straight into the city, but under new orders from the government, Midgar was closed to all vehicles except police cars and officials. The sheriff, Barret Wallace, an aging man with an itchy trigger finger, somehow managed to find a loophole in the system which enabled him to drive around his armour-plated Bentley in the city. I knew the real reason was the many backhanders that Barret participated in.
As I arrived at the train station, I cut the engine quiet and stepped off the bike, swaying slightly due to the effects of the gin I had drank earlier. Pulling the keys out of the ignition, I wasted no time as I ran to the platform, realising my train was to take off at any second. As the train departed from the platform, I ran as fast as my legs could take me. My fingers were just around the door handle, and I quickly pulled myself up onto the train. Many of the passengers looked at me in surprise, at how foolishly I had risked my life to board a train. It wasn't a good start; I needed total anonymity. Pulling my hat further down to obscure part of my face, I took a seat that was situated at the end of the carriage, far from the other passengers. I set my briefcase on top of the table in front of me and opened it, switching on the radio transceiver. Using the morse code I had learned beforehand, I signalled a message to HQ to notify them of me boarding the train. It was a pointless formality, but I thought it best to play things by the book this time; you didn't just get an emergency call for nothing, and the sheriff sounded serious.
I looked around the carriage, which was to be my home for the next 10 hours as it head towards Inner Midgar. I had prayed to the Gods themselves that I would never return to that cesspit of sin, crime and death, yet they must not have heard. Pulling out a flask from my overcoat, I unscrewed and helped myself freely to the cool liquid within; its soothing effects washed over me immediately as I slipped off into a quiet calm, where me and only my thoughts resided.