Disclaimer: Most of the characters and ideas in this story are products of Square-Enix/Squaresoft from the video game Final Fantasy 7 and I am in no way responsible for the creation of this fictional world or the characters within it.
Rating: M (violence, language)
The Life of a Hired Gun
Prologue:
My name is Sam. Some people call me Hades, because of what I do for a living. Some call me Revolver, because of what I use to do it. I've also been called mean, evil and heartless, but I don't think those where meant to be names.
I was born in Corel. I spent my youth there before I moved to Corel Prison, not by choice. Not the new Corel Prison with an amusement park above it. The older one. The one that, back in those days, was the only prison for violent murders, rapists, and other scum of the earth.
Yeah, I made quite a few mistakes back in those days. Thinking back, I probably would'a done a few things differently. Ah, who am I kidding, I'd probably screw up again and do all the same shit.
Anyway, I got out of Corel Prison and I had my life running pretty well for a while there. I was good at what I did and I got money for it. What's not to like?
But, it eventually all came crashing down and now I'm totally screwed. I'm not surprised that it ended up like this, I just don't know how I got here.
Oh, did I forget to mention, I'm buried alive. I don't remember who put me here or why. I guess I'll just have to start with what I do remember and work my way to now, since I have plenty of time to think. Let's see, oh, I remember the day it all got screwed up...
Chapter 1: Piece 'o Cake
(Three weeks before the destruction of Reactor No. 1)
Scarlet stepped into her large, well furnished office where Heidegger and Rufus already stood waiting for her. She carried three file folders with pictures paper-clipped to the front. As she glanced to Rufus, he silently nodded to her. With Rufus' approval, she laid the folders on the coffee table in front of their guest.
Where on earth did they find this guy?
Scarlet could not believe her eyes as she scanned the strange white man sitting on the large sofa in her office. He was roughly six feet tall, muscular but not overly bulky, and dressed like a broke cowboy. He wore a worn out, long black trench coat open over a tattered white T-shirt, scruffy Blue Jeans and old black work boots. On his head, he wore a black cowboy hat which was angled downward so that the brim partially covered his face.
"So you want 'em dead?"
"Well, yes," Scarlet replied with a pretentious tone.
"We'd like it done within the next twenty-four hours if you can manage." Heidegger added.
"Piece 'o cake," their guest responded arrogantly.
As he scanned through the files, Scarlet saw that 'COREL PRISON' was carved into his leathery knuckles with one word on each hand. Between his thick fingers he held a lit cigarette that was filling her office with disgusting smoke.
"Could you put out that cigarette," Scarlet asked demandingly. "I don't allow smoking in my office."
He ignored her entirely and continued flipping casually through the files.
"This last guy's says 'whereabouts unknown'," the man stated as he opened the last file folder.
"Is that a problem?" the young Vice President asked.
"Price is doubled," the strange man said. "That puts the total up to twenty-thousand."
"Alright," Rufus replied. "Five thousand apiece for the successful termination of Albert Clay and Russell Walters. And, ten thousand for the successful termination of Barret Wallace."
"Deal," the man said as he pulled the three pictures from the front their folders.
Folding the pictures, the man stood to slide them into his back pocket. As he stood up, his trench coat opened further, revealing his weapons, or at least some of them. On his right hip was a holster holding a black revolver. He also had a large combat knife strapped to the side of each thigh and a line of grenades on his belt.
He then extinguished his lit cigarette by crushing it between his fingers and proceeded to drop it on Scarlet's expensive coffee table.
"What is your name?" Scarlet asked with frustration in her voice. "For conversation purposes."
"Don't have a name," he replied.
"Well," Scarlet answered, obviously annoyed. "What can we call you?"
In response to Scarlet's question, the man looked up at her, displaying his strangest quality yet. His left eye, which before was hidden by the brim of his hat, was completely red...blood red. No pupil, no white, just a smooth red orb.
The creepy cyclops then raised his T-shirt, uncovering a large tattoo. On his abdomen was a picture of a demon, wearing a red cloak, with a skull instead of a face. Just beneath this demon was the large word 'HADES'.
As the man lowered his shirt, he winked at Scarlet with his red eye, sending a cold shiver down her spine.
"Alright...Hades," Rufus said, breaking the silence. "You have your mission. Return to us when it is complete to receive your pay."
"Wait," the man said suddenly. "I want some of those Mako bullets."
"I don't know what you..." Scarlet started.
"Don't give me that bullshit," the man interrupted. "I seen 'em used."
"It's ok, Scarlet." Rufus said calmly. "Mr. Hades, Mako weaponry is expensive and not just for standard use. We only use such technology in special cases."
"Don't care," the man snapped. "Spare me you're 'we don't waste the good stuff on the grunts' speech, alright. I'm not ask'n you to supply your damn army with 'em. I just want a few, 'case I needs 'em."
"Scarlet," Rufus said, appearing unaffected by the man's attitude. "Go down to Weapons Development and get our friend here ten forty five caliber Mark II Predator shells."
Rufus then turned back to the hitman and coldly asked, "Happy?"
"Very," he replied.
(Six hours later)
Sam's first kill was a freebie. The kind of hit where he was getting paid just to pull a trigger. The file contained information on where the target would be and when. All Sam had to do was get there and wait.
He stood in a piece of shit wooden shack in the Sector 3 slums. It was completely dark other than the small beams of light that spilled in through the cracks and holes in the door. It seemed to be a small storage shed but it was hard to be sure. As he waited, he watched the path outside through a small circular hole.
It was almost time. According to the file, Albert Clay would be walking down this street on his way to meet a contact at approximately 7:30 p.m. The file did not have many other details. Apparently ShinRa wanted him to know as little as possible.
And there he was...all alone...
SLAM
Sam kicked the wooden door open and it slammed against the wall of the shack.
"DON'T MOVE!" Sam shouted as he burst out of the shed, drawing his revolver from his holster.
The mark was scared, but not surprised, as if he expected this to happen. What else could you expect when you were on The ShinRa Corporation's bad side?
Sam moved in front of him, aiming his revolver at the man's forehead.
"Albert Clay?" he asked.
The man didn't answer, so Sam quickly reached into his back pocket and pulled a picture out. He looked at the picture and then back at the trembling man. It was him.
Sam looked at the sight of his revolver with his good eye, squaring the barrel with the center of Albert's forehead. Albert, seeing him aim, raised his hands into a praying position and slowly bowed his head.
Maybe he was accepting his inevitable death. Maybe he was asking for help. Maybe he was trying to evoke a little pity from his assassin.
BANG
The gunshot echoed through the Slums, a sound that was sadly not uncommon in these parts. It would not be investigated and it would not be reported. It was likely that it might not be noticed. People would just turn their heads, close their doors, try to find cover or maybe just close their eyes and wish they were somewhere else.
(Three hours later)
Russell S. Walters was walking down a dusty path in the Sector 2 Slums with two of his friends. He was on his way to meet a ShinRa Soldier about underground work he had done for The ShinRa Corporation.
"Hey Rusty," Tom said, who walked behind him. "You really think people are after you?"
"Don't know," Russell replied. "But be careful just incase, ya know."
Henry, the most paranoid of the three, spoke up. "Rusty's right," he said with a shaky voice, "Sh...ShinRa is involved in some sh...shady stuff. K...Keep your guns ready boys."
What a nut, Russell thought. But, he wasn't taking any chances. They were all well armed and ready for anything.
Up ahead in the path, a man dressed in black slowly walked toward them. As he got closer, Russell noticed that the man was wearing a closed black trench coat that extended all the way to his feet. He also wore a black cowboy hat pulled down in front so that Russell couldn't see his face.
Suddenly, the man reached into his coat and pulled out what looked like a small, oddly-shaped knife. Without any warning whatsoever, the man looked up and whipped the knife at Russell.
"AAhhh!" Russell screamed as the knife sliced into his abdomen.
Tom and Henry both drew their pistols, but the strange black-clad man had disappeared into a nearby junkyard.
Russell quickly reached down and pulled the strange knife out of his stomach. He then raised it up to get a better look at it. It seemed to be a short blade welded to the bottom of some sort of hand grenade.
BOOOM
Sam waited a few seconds after the blast and walked back out into the path. He saw Russell's two companions were still alive, but not well.
It seemed they had been somewhat shaken by having Russell splattered all over their clothes and faces. Also, the one on the left had caught some shrapnel in one of his legs. He wasn't going anywhere.
Sam walked toward the man on the right, when suddenly the terrified man jumped to his feet and started sprinting toward the closest structure. He had abandoned his friend in favor of running for cover.
Sam quickly drew his revolver and pulled the hammer back. He then sighted the back of the running man's head and...
BANG
As the running man crumpled to the dirt, his incapacitated friend crawled for his gun which had been thrown from his hands when Russell had exploded. He was reaching out for it...
BANG
...when a bullet sliced cleanly through the palm of his hand. The bullet created a small hole that was quickly filled by blood.
"DAMN," the man screamed as he clutched his bleeding hand. He continued to groan in pain as Sam walked up and pointed the jet-black revolver at his head.
"Barret Wallace," Sam asked in a deep, threatening voice. "Where can I find him?"
"Don't...Cough..Cough...Don't know him," he said weakly.
"Did I ask that!" Sam yelled angrily. "What have you heard?"
"He's a...Cough...He's a big black guy," the bleeding man answered. "He's got a gun...Cough...Cough...a gun for an...arm. He leads...AVALANCHE."
The files had covered everything except the part about AVALANCHE. Sam had heard of them, but he didn't know this Barret guy was their leader. He could probably squeeze some more money out of the ShinRa execs when he went back to collect.
"Anything else?" Sam asked as he raised his gun.
"pl...please don't..."
BANG
(Twelve hours later)
He had spent the better part of the last twelve hours gathering information. Finding a thug here or there and putting a beat on him for some info was a timeless amusement to Sam. The slums were full of tiny Turks and pseudo SOLDIER's, all just two bit wannabes who had something to prove.
When guys like Sam came around however, it was a different story. Only the toughest tough guy in the town would stand up to someone like him. Coincidentally, it was always those confident fools who had a useful tip, address or name.
Sam couldn't believe his eyes when his trail lead him to a crummy bar in the Sector 7 Slums.
What kind of badass AVALANCHE leader hangs his hat in that shit hole? Sam thought. I just hope he's in when I come knock'n.
As if on cue, a large black man stepped out of the door of the small bar. He had short black hair, bulging muscular arms and a large machine gun where his right hand should be.
"Easiest twenty grand I ever made," Sam said to himself. "All I have to do is take out Mr. Wallace and I'll have a nice chunk of spend'n cash."
What could go wrong, Sam asked himself.
Relaxed, Sam calmly said to himself, "Piece 'o cake."
(Present)
Yeah, it was the hit on Barret, that's when everything went wrong. If I had just walked out on the deal when I found out that he was the leader of AVALANCHE, I might not be in this creaky old box.
I knew those ShinRa execs were assholes and I knew they weren't telling me everything. I mean, why would they deal with scum like me when they had their own army and private assassins.
But, I never suspected things would go so badly. I figured they'd just pay up, see'n as how twenty grand wasn't much to them, and I'd be on my way.
I was wrong.