Note: This story is partly inspired by The Tale of Genji by Murasaki Shikibu. I'm still reading it at the moment, but I wanted to make a start!
the following takes place some years before the fall of Shinra
Midgar Story, by JetNoir
1. THE PAULOWNIA COURT
LILIA
He was gone when she woke up.
The room was pitch black, but the noise was close to deafening as she thrust open the window. Midgar was known around the world as the city that never slept, so even though it was morning – as the Plate above Shinra HQ blocked the sunlight – the noise of traffic blocked all else.
She took a deep breath, and almost wept, as she smelt the smog and fumes, the pollution of a city consumed by darkness and misery. Lilia realised that she should consider herself lucky, having a well-paid job, a nice – albeit small – apartment in Sector 3, and a fiancé who loved her dearly. But still.
It just didn't seem right, worse, didn't seem enough. Again, she realised that these thoughts were stupid, or worse, futile, for in this dark world, all she could do was the best she could for herself, for her very survival.
Sighing heavily, she moved into the kitchen, and put a kettle on.
The first day of the rest of her life had begun.
MIN
"Ten-hut!" came the bellowing order from The Colonel, and with the rest of the Platoon, he came to attention, sliding his feet into position, sweating under the heavy blue armour. He had reported to the barracks three hours before dawn as stated. Thankfully, it was not the policy of Shinra to demand its soldiers were to bunk at HQ – only those currently on active duty, i.e. the graveyard shift – or Min knew that he would only see Lilia intermittently, and that he couldn't stand. Even as he marched out the room, three abreast, and collected his rifle and ammunition, his thoughts remained solely on the woman that he loved.
They were to get married soon, much to the general hilarity and affection shown by the platoon. They had finally decided to honeymoon at the Costa Del Sol, and they had both been granted leave.
"Lieutenant Min!"
He turned at that point, though continued marching as a courier ran up to him handing him an envelope.
"Good morning," said the courier, whom Min knew by sight, but couldn't place his name, "new orders sir!" The courier was breathless, so Min dropped out of the Platoon, and allowed the now gasping courier some time to compose himself.
"You're to report to Special Operations," said the Courier, "orders from up above. You must have impressed someone with that last mission!"
"Thankyou," replied Min simply. The courier nodded and left, as Min started to run to catch up with the Platoon, and to explain where he was disappearing too.
FUREW
Elsewhere in Midgar, a little girl lay crying.
She was crying softly, but she knew that it didn't matter, for no matter how loud she was, nothing would awaken her mother from her drunken stupor.
It was not that she was abused, or even neglected. She would get at least two square meals a day, but after about three in the afternoon, her widowed mother, would break out the liquor, and slowly but surely, she would be inebriated within hours.
Furew was lonely. That simple. She longed for contact with another human being, to talk, to laugh. Just to make friends.
Getting up off the bed, the little girl slipped downstairs, as the artificial lights of Midgar came on. She cut a determined little figure as she began to walk away from her house, and her mother, towards a small Church, to pray for a time when life would be better, not just for her, but for all Midgar, and to say Hello, to the beautiful Flower Girl, with the long brown hair.
EDGE
With a strangled gasp, the dishevelled figure leapt up from the ground, and glanced carefully around at his location. The darkened slums loomed above him, as he gazed through his long straggly hair. The disguise he wielded was a necessary deception, for although the face of the quasi-mythical mercenary was certainly not well known, Edge certainly didn't want it to become so. There were no more heroes in Midgar, just desperate people, driven to desperate measures, desperate to survive.
He had slept on the street this night, knowing that no thief would bother to rob a bum. Slinking into the shadows, Edge slid a hand to a concealed sheath and drew a dagger, which he concealed under the sleeve of his rags. He knew that he didn't have long till the target would awaken – for Edge had overslept, a stupid mistake he knew he would bitterly regret.
It did not take long for Edge to reach the house of the condemned, and it was a simple matter to scale the drainpipe unnoticed, break the simple lock of the window, and climb inside.
The corpulent man was snoring loudly, so Edge didn't waste any time, creeping straight to the bed, and gritting his teeth, slit the sleeping man's throat.
After waiting thirty seconds to make sure he was dead, and making sure he had none of the man's blood on him, Edge swiftly went back to the window and made his escape.
The body of course, would not be discovered for another six hours, but Edge hurried along, determined no one would place him at the scene of the crime. He kept running, swift and sure, until he reached the next sector over, and having shed his rags, which had hid his dark black outfit, he strolled, slightly red in the face to a bar, and ordered a drink and a meal.
When sure he was alone in the grimy tavern, he pulled out a small phone from his clothes and dialled the seven numbers from memory.
"Yes?"
"It's done," said Edge, sipping from his drink.
SHINRA ADMINISTRATIVE DEPARTMENT IN RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT (THE TURKS)
Tseng, Vincent, Reno and Rude
"Thankyou," replied Tseng, talking into his own phone, "the Gil will be delivered to you shortly."
"What happened?" asked Vincent, fingering his pistol nervously.
"The target's dead," stated Tseng coldly.
"Go-od," smirked Reno, "so we have one less AVALANCHE politician to worry about." Rude just belched.
"Shut your mouth," snarled Vincent, "what…do you want to broadcast our plans to the whole blasted street?" Tseng shook his head:
"Turks," he sighed, "lets get some breakfast."
ERICA
"Good morning!" said Erica as the little girl walked hesitantly into the church.
It took a few moments for Furew to recognise the girl, but as soon as she did, she smiled:
"Hello Eri. Do you know where Aeris is?" Erica shook her head.
"I dunno. Look…the flowers are wilting. Strange."
"Do you want me to water them?"
"No need Furew, I'll do it. You run along and play."
"OK."
Furew ran off, and Erica settled back on her knees, alone in the dark church, picking up a bucket filled with water, and slowly, gently poured it over the flowers.
The water was soon greedily sucked into the soil, and before her eyes, the blooms swelled, and stood upright, the beautiful, rare petals shining bright, against the darkness of Midgar.
ANTHONY
"Do you believe?"
The man staggered down the street, calling to anyone who could here. To the unpractised eye, he might look insane, but if he was, then it was only with pain. A dark wound bled openly from his stomach, as he called his sermon to all around.
"Do you believe?"
Something must have caught the man's eye as he swerved violently, and grabbed a man's collar, who was just walking past.
"Do you believe?" the injured man cried in the other man's face. The other man was at first shocked, but soon regained his composure.
"Get your dirty hands off me!" the man said, "Miserable psycho!" He reached up, and grabbed the injured man's wrists, trying to pull them away from his collar, but the injured man was strong, and they wouldn't budge.
"Do you believe?"
"Help!" the man called, "Someone get this psycho off me! Help."
"DO I HEAR A PRAYER FROM YOU!" came the bellowing reply.
A small crowd had gathered, but none had moved to help the captured man – indeed, this level of entertainment occurred only rarely.
However, it did not last long. Perhaps it was hunger, perhaps exhaustion, or perhaps it was the injured man succumbed to the wound, but he released his grip, and fell to the floor.
"Do you believe?" he whispered softly, and gurgled, his eyes closing.
The now released man, straightened, and with a snarl, viciously kicked the comatose body, which didn't respond.
Dead to the world, and no longer of interest, the crowd swiftly dispersed. They had had there fun, but even then, within hours the strange and curious incident had been completely forgotten.
THE WITNESS
I am The Witness. Believe what I have just uttered.
The world is dark and cold. Loneliness is all what most feel.
I stand here, some distance from Midgar. I look slowly into the cold night, and I see the cold moon, covered with cloud, a 'halo' watching over the land. The stars are bright and beautiful, shining and radiant, crying out a message of hope to us, it's children.
Lovers, murderers, a mercenary, little girls, flowers, and one who has passed beyond shadow. It's funny when you realise the sense of humour fate has.
Can misery ever end? Truly. Perhaps I will never know…but I think that these might just find out.
So it begins.
Note: Hope you enjoyed it. This seems like it will be very different to what I've written before, so it's certainly going to be different. I'm publishing this story simultaneously with ) and on the fantastic site: The Final Fantasy VII Citadel ). If you have any ideas on what I can do to improve the next chapter, if you want to see something in particular, or if you have a challenge for me; then please feel free to pose it! I hope to see you next chapter.
Disclaimer: I do not (sadly) own Square Enix, or Final Fantasy VII. All characters are copyright to Square Enix, apart from the ones I have created. Those, the scenario and story are copyright to me. This story has been written on the understanding that you may read it and print it out; but you may not pass it off as your own, hire it out, or sell it for money. You also may not put it on your own or any other web page without my express written permission. Thankyou!
JetNoir