CHAPTER ONE
"I understand that it was only a few hours after this incident that an additional two bodies were found – let's see," Heidegger opens his file, flipping to the highlighted areas, "that would be the morning of the eighth."
"Yes," Palmer starts quiet before clearing his throat and unbuttoning the front of his waistcoat. "Yes," he starts again, louder, "at two different locations. The first occurring at Latitude 33° 43' S, Longitude 15° 59' W-"
"That's just off their trading post, yes?"
Palmer swallows as he looks over his file at Rufus Shinra reclined at the head of the table, leather boots resting on his copy of the report. Palmer addresses him with a nod, "Indeed. About three miles off."
Scarlet, Head of Munitions, snorts before covering the sound with a forced laugh. "That's just off Junon Marina." She turns a blonde curl about her finger while glancing impassively through her file. She doesn't need to finish the collective thought.
"I actually think it was done-" Palmer attempts to take control again.
"And the other two bodies? Where were they found?" Rufus interrupts, removing a cigar from the front of his suit. The dark haired man behind his seat extends a cutter without request. "Thank you, Tseng."
"Emerald Reef. The bodies were found anchored to the coral with fishing nets," Palmer tugs at the pinching button of his collar, "scalped."
Heidegger quickly shuffles through his papers, turning over the entire report while glancing at Palmer. He holds up a thick finger and repeatedly wets his lips as if preparing to interject.
Palmer smiles wide enough to show his gold caps. "Oh, you won't find the autopsies in your versions, only the S.I.O. has them."
There's a quick exchange between Scarlet and Heidegger; his dark beard doing nothing to hide the contortion of anger. Scarlet cuts a red rimmed smile.
"Well," she prompts Palmer with a light tone, "is there evidence, in your professional opinion, to identify the fish?"
"Murderer," Palmer corrects.
"Hmmm?"
He stands from his chair with some effort, pinching close his brown waistcoat and beginning to walk the length of the table. "There's a sophistication to these murders, and by human standards, a repeating M.O. that would suggest one killer."
Rufus takes a puff of his cigar, righting himself in his seat while he looks through the smoke at Palmer. There's silence a moment as the President observes the elected official. He taps off on the corner of the mahogany. "You're suggesting that the population can't be held responsible."
It's not a question, but Palmer answers anyway, turning his back on the President to begin his pace down the table. It does nothing to hide the smile in his voice: "Precisely, Mr. President."
"There's simply not enough evidence to translate this to a terrorist attack-"
"What about the distance?" Heidegger leans forward over his stomach, sliding his highlighted map to the center of the table. Everyone else is too busy creeping forward to notice Palmer huff.
"The first body is found just off the trading post here," Heidegger makes a crude black circle. "The other two bodies are found…here." The second circle rests on the tip of the Dragon Peninsula. "Now, what does the autopsy suggest the time between the two crimes are?"
The room's eyes shift to Palmer still standing aside the table; he can feel the heat around his cheeks and forehead. "Approximately two hours between the two-"
"So," Heidegger begins again, "you're saying, that in less than two hours," he pushes every syllable through his teeth, "one person murdered a fully trained Junon Solider," Palmer opens his mouth to speak but Heidegger holds up another thick finger before licking his lips. "Scalps him, then swims twenty-some miles to magically run into two more fully trained Junon Soliders and murder them as well."
Silence. Heidegger leans back in his seat and strokes his beard, making no show to hide his grin. "Well?" he prompts.
Palmer stuffs his hands in his pockets and huffs for his words, pacing more frantically. "Well…" he begins, pinched red in the face. "It's not as if we've gotten one of them in the tank for a speed run. You have to understand, on land they average around six feet, in the water closer to seven. Are you suggesting a fish couldn't make the distance? A dragon?"
"Oh, I have no qualms about their speed in the water, but the fact that they would need to bee-line immediately after the first incident to the second to accomplish what you're suggesting was performed by one creature is a pretty fantastical turn of luck. Add that luck to the fact that the last transmission by that patrol was a note of investigation off their normal course – it sounds like they were lured."
Rufus takes another puff of his cigar. "Spell it out, Heidegger."
"Sir," the large man in the green suit stands level with Palmer and waddles to the office windows overlooking the harbor. "This was a coordinated attack on Junon Officials. The routes these boats took were scheduled and common. The killers planned, tracked, and struck in unison and left behind a blatant calling card of sacrificial-"
"Bullshit," Palmer throws his report to the floor. "There is no evidence to suggest multiple assailants. We don't know the properties or power of these things, nor do we know their motivations," he punctuates his words with spit, but makes no show to wipe away his aggression. "We don't have enough to take the kind of action you're throwing your money at. I'm sorry, Mr. President, but I can't go to public for taxes to help fund a war so you can build another off-shore economic stronghold in Junon's goddamn front yard."
Distantly the horn of a Destroyer sounds as it begins to disembark towards the Dragon Sea; probably scheduled for the Red Ocean around Wutai.
Palmer smooths back the little white hair he has left and wipes his mouth. Bending to retrieve his report, Rufus Shinra stands from his seat and pushes the tip of his cigar into the table.
"When is reelection?" he twists twice and leaves a dark mark in the wood.
Palmer glares. "Three months, Sir."
"Then you have three months."
"The phrase: 'here be dragons' was popularized in 1504 with the exploration of the Gold Coasts. Maps would be printed with images of dragons or sea serpents to indicate unexplored or dangerous territories, and became permanent frames around maps for decades during the colonization of the islands in the Red Ocean."
Professor Aeris Gainsborough stands center podium in the Candle Auditorium. The rotunda design throwing her voice about the stadium seating between the scratch of pen and low murmurs. She gestures to the modern map behind her.
"It's thought that these sea monsters were picked due to the mythology surrounding Leviathan." She steps from the podium, small in stature, and begins to pace the marble in clicks. "So, you have massive expansion and exploration of the Eastern culture into areas already populated by decedents of the Leviathan Tribes – no surprise that their area of the map would appear with these cultural images, no?"
She motions to the closest row of students. Someone nods.
"Yes, what?" She prompts the row with both hands, touching her eyes to theirs and smiling.
"Yes, it makes sense that the expansion into Wutai territories would result in some Eastern influence in map making," someone agrees from the crowd.
"Thank you," she chimes, beginning to pace back the other way. "But what if the appearance of Leviathan on the map wasn't just two cultures coming together to help fill in the corners of navigation, but an actual sighting of Leviathan as late as the 1500s?"
Aeris pauses in her stride to square off with her students. There's a slight shift in volume; stray whispers.
"What if, like the Condor for the Phoenix Tribe, the Leviathan has decedents as late as the 1500s?"
A hand shoots up from the crowd. Aeris smiles and nods. The gentleman who stands is tall with long dark hair and a square jaw. "Zack Fair, Professor," he introduces himself with a flamboyant bow and the voice of the previous answerer: "What about the mermaids off the coast of Junon, wouldn't they be classified as direct decedents of Leviathan?"
"Cetra," she corrects. "They don't take too kindly to being confused with fairytales."
"So, you've spoken with these Cetra? Know them pretty well?"
Aeris turns on her heels to hide her smile and clicks towards the podium. "No. But a colleague of mine, Cloud Strife, is currently doing dives in that area. I believe he has the most on-hand experience with the Cetra."
"I hear he also has a dashingly handsome partner." Zack winks before seating himself again.
The professor motions for the lights. "I'd have to disagree, Mr. Fair – but, to answer your question: No. The Cetra are not direct decedents of the Leviathan." A hazy wash of white light fills the projection screen, silhouetting Aeris' figure before the class.
There's a cat call followed by laughter. She ignores both and instead searches through her slides, continuing to explain:
"It's well supported in the scientific community that the Cetra lived thousands of years ago and we are direct descendants of them. Looking through their timeline culturally, like us, they divided civilizations by beliefs and worships of their gods like Phoenix and Leviathan."
She picks out a single slide, holding it up to the cast of the projector to study it herself for a moment, lost in thought with an intense expression.
"And, like us, they had different races. The Cetra of the Leviathan Tribe are merely a different race from the more consistently humanoid Cetra image from the North."
Gingerly, she sets the slide to the projector, silencing the last few strands of conversation at once.
Cast before her audience is the image of a single man. His face is framed with long dark hair held weightless by water, an unnaturally pale complexion in stark comparison. The features are gaunt, with high-angled cheek bones and deep sunken eyes that do little to hide the sickly glow of scarlet irises. Thin blue tinted lips are pulled back over rows of pointed teeth much more shark than human.
The skin around his nose and brow are marred by anger, snarling in a sense. But that's not the strangest thing.
At the hip, his pale flesh trades for dark scales tapering to a thick tail that fans out in two transparent fins. The photograph barely picks up the circular emblem carved into his chest.
"Mermaids are what the locals call them, but that sells them short. They average about seven feet in the water. Eyes are able to see lower spectrums of light to help in depths. Teeth mimic that of most predatory fish to help with their diet."
Aeris glances out into the faces of her students. "These are Ancients. Part of a civilization that is thousands of years old – thought extinct within this decade, resting in the middle of two of the Planet's largest technological powers. So now, the question is: what else is down there with them?"
She steps again from the center podium and motions towards her students.
"Technology raced for the skies. Compared to the Air Fleets, nautical transportation and exploration is decades behind. Ninety percent of the Planet's oceans unexplored." Aeris motions to them again, underlining her point with her hands.
Another student stands. "Professor," he recognizes her with a bowed head, "are you suggesting that you think the Leviathan is still alive?"
Aeris grins. "That's exactly, what I'm suggesting." She claps her hands together to signal the lights. "But I'll leave a cliffhanger to ensure you come back after break. Enjoy."
The auditorium bursts with voices as the students pick up their things and file down the aisles for the doors; most still echoing the lecture and all seeing their professor out with a smile or wave. Zack Fair is the only person left seated when the crowd clears out.
Aeris is wiping down the chalkboard.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" She finally asks, rubbing her hands in a billow of dust. She doesn't need to turn around to see his grin.
"Like to admit that I came for pleasure, but, alas, I'm here on business."
Zack stands from his seat with a briefcase, making a point to tuck it under his arm, and files down to the main floor. It's only three strides across the room before she meets him halfway into a bear hug. She laughs as he lifts her.
"It's been too long, Aeris. Looking good for a stuffy professor."
"How the hell are you?" she shoves him playfully. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming? I could have met you for lunch. Where's Cloud?"
"Up to his balls in chum," Zack winks, "you know how he loves his work."
Aeris nods, tugging them towards the far mahogany desk. "How is your work going? Certainly timed well with the lesson." She pulls the chair for him before hopping onto the desktop.
Zack picks some papers aside before seating himself. "All the same bullshit. Big grants pushing bigger agendas and not a dime paid to look at what we have to show." He sighs. "But that's actually why I'm here."
"You never could come just to visit."
There's silence a moment as Zack takes a minute to observe the briefcase he'd fastened under his arm. He opens the case to a single item – an envelope, neatly sealed in red wax with the Junon Gold Nation mark. With anther flamboyant flourish, he presents the document to Aeris and waits.
She reads it twice.
"This is a contract," she says.
"Mmhm." He taps the single page. "Three months to accurately map the Cetra population."
"To what end?" She turns the contract over to observe the catch 22; alas, blank on the back.
Zack shrugs and leans into his seat. "Probably want a bigger target for their missile; no secret that ShinRa wants to send their reactors out to sea."
Aeris pulls her hand through her curls. "Cloud's thoughts?"
"Money is money. He wants to map their population anyway, in the end, it doesn't really matter why we're supposed to be there if we get the same thing."
"Idealistic as always."
Aeris sighs and leans back on her hands, gazing into the dome ceiling of the grand auditorium. Leave the center stage of Cosmo University for a three month vacation under the heel of Gold Nation? Zack examines her profile.
She had always been a pretty girl; fair skin lightly tanned on the cheeks by the Cosmo Summer, large green eyes framed in thick lashes. Zack knew the turn of the fine brow and pink lips well, the tell-tale furrow of lines on her forehead concerning the morality of his proposal.
He guesses that's what Masters Degrees bought: morals.
"You could meet them," he says off-handedly, knowing the flash of her eyes already seal the answer. She meets his smirk with her own.
"Help me pack?"
The Junon Marina is the industrial seat of the Gold Nation. A title observed by the government because it sounded a lot nicer than "slum". Midgar had slums, Gold Nation was more refined, an engineering miracle that it hadn't slid off the rock-face and into the sea.
The streets are crowded, tailored by side stalls of fish, jewelry, and other marine goods. Zack had never been a patient driver, and Aeris can see him biting his tongue as he inches the car through the main plaza.
It hadn't helped that it had been a very long drive.
"I swear to Gaia, the freakin' mermaids know how to walk faster than these people." He touches the horn, earning a few nasty looks and some shouts, but the government plates clear the cobblestone street. "Thank you, assholes," he hisses.
Junon actually reminded Aeris of home – well, not the city – but this seated village didn't get the same construction standards as the gold mechanical wonder above. She wasn't an engineer by any standards, but it was common enough debate that the way the Gold Capital anchored itself into the mountain had displaced a lot of the surrounding landscape.
Heavy rainfall and sea salt left a deadly game of chance to builders. Most property was built upwards on tested security, rather than expanded out. A lot of exposed structural beams and stilts called for a particular style that was popular back North. Icicle Inn had used the same mentality of skywards stacking due to the heavy snowfall.
It comforted her to see the wrapped porches and extended roofs. Many houses having their own system of skybridges above the road, crisscrossing shadows over the hood of the car. Aeris smiled to the nearest shop owner.
"Miss Cosmo yet?" Zack asks, pulling the car off the main road to a less crowded side street. The cobble streets suddenly trade for dirt, winding a little uphill as the car skirts the city.
"Eh, I think I needed a break."
Cloud Strife's office is three doors down from the actual Marina. A dilapidated shed by standards, but boarded to the best drink at Junon's feet: The Lucky Dolphin. It had no front yard, but – like most properties – backed onto a dock that fed directly into the Dragon Ocean.
Zack pulls onto a dirt drive-way. It's a (mostly) flattened stretch that drops off ten feet into the rocky end of the bay. A small staircase at the front of the drive leads down to the worn dock, but Aeris notes it'll be a good ten minute walk to the docked ships down the line.
Hard to be secluded in the second largest city, but Cloud had managed.
"Actually," Aeris pushes open her door to the burst of sea salt and mud. "I think I'm going to like it here."
Zack snorts and kills the engine.
Distantly, Aeris can still make out the hum of the main plaza, but the slap of waves and crying gulls are much more refreshing. She takes a deep breath, shaking out her muscles from the drive and letting her curls down.
"Lo and behold, is that a Siren?" Asks a familiar voice.
Aeris turns from the view to meet Cloud Strife's open arms. They embrace warmly, Aeris leaning into the blonde hair to find his ear over the roar of the wind. "Good to see you, Cloud."
He steps from her, intently tracing her features with those blue eyes she remembered so well. "Haven't changed a bit – still beautiful," he gives that small smile.
Zack slams the trunk closed, swinging the bags over his shoulder with ease. He tilts his head towards the shack, "hate to interrupt," he winks at Aeris, "but can we get something to eat. It got real Donner Party in that car for a while."
The living quarters are cramped, to put it nicely. The front door opens to a living/kitchen combo; the walls are tacked with maps while the floor is piled with gear: diving equipment, toolboxes, oxygen tanks, and what smelled like game buckets in the corner.
Zack sets Aeris' bag on the only furniture in the room: a single table and chairs.
"Home sweet home," he chuckles. "Two bedrooms. This is the main living space/lab – don't eat anything in the fridge, most are samples." Cloud makes a face. "That door leads to the bedroom, everyone gets a cot. Bathroom and utilities are behind that door down the steps, and the last door in the corner there leads to the work room. Questions?"
Aeris picks a path to the bedroom door before pulling it ajar. It's entirely empty save for the three single cots and some spare linens. A tiny window exposes a lit plaza.
At least it's clean.
"Not exactly a vacation, is it?" she hides her laugh with a drawn hand.
Cloud shrugs. "We spend more time on the boat anyway."
"Ah, what a fine vessel, I'm sure." She shuts the bedroom door and turns to face her colleagues. "And which of you is the captain?"
The two exchange a look that skirts the edge of a smirk. Zack is the first to speak: "His name's Barret Wallace. And he's a real Wet Dream."
Cloud shakes his head before beginning to clear a path around the door. "You'll meet him in the morning. For now, we drink and dine like our college days."
"Whoa," Zack starts, motioning towards the door for Aeris, "I'd prefer it if the lady kept her shirt on this time."
Aeris rolls her eyes. "Zack. That was you. And it wasn't just your shirt."
"I see I left a big impression."
"So what do you think?" Cloud asks, pulling his thumb around the neck of his beer.
"Of her?" Aeris turns over her shoulder to watch the waitress saunter away. "I think she's your type," she teases.
Cloud throws a peanut at her, catching her square in the jaw. "Of here," he emphasis the surrounding area with his hands.
The Lucky Dolphin is a crab shack at best and a tetanus shot at worst. Most of the seating is along the driftwood bar top, or around one of the four pool tables on the floor. There's an unplugged jukebox in the corner, and decorative fishnets weaving across the ceiling. The walls are tacked with newspaper articles, the closest reading:
Local Fisherman Claims his Boat was Eaten by a Seamonster.
Aeris cracks a peanut on the counter. "It's nice. A good change of pace, I think." She taps the article with a polished nail.
"I haven't found them," Cloud says, pausing to take a drink. He points to the article before setting the bottle back down. "I haven't found your Leviathans."
Aeris laughs. "What have you found?"
"Well," he tosses a peanut shell to the pile on the floor, "they aren't migrating. This is a localized population, and if this is the only population, then they're dying."
Aeris already knew that. They both go silent a moment and study their drinks, toasting to the demise of a culture.
"Why now?" she finally asks. "Why did we find them now? You don't think it's strange that we process nautical expeditions for decades, and suddenly they choose to make their presence known?"
Cloud shakes his head. "They're moving inland."
"But you said they don't show patterns of migration."
"It's resource based. They need something inland that they can no longer get where they came from. I don't know why, and unless I get one of them to talk to me, their history will die with them."
He takes another, long, pull on his beer.
"So what are we looking for? Are they like the Northern Cetra?"
"Exactly," Cloud begins again. "In observation, they seem to value the community over the individual. I'm guessing they've populated some large reef for protection, maybe caverns, but it's got to be big enough for all them or chained together somehow."
"Any guess at the depth?" Aeris steeples her fingers under her chin and stares at Cloud through the mirror behind the bar. His hair is matted to one side as he scratches his head, his expression wary.
"No more than a thousand feet. Structurally, they're similar to us, the pressure past that point would cause problems. And they eat smaller fish that need the sunlight to feed."
Aeris turns on the stool to face his profile. "It's simple then – we separate the sea into sections, start with the most likely, and use sonar to map the area. Any large structures we hit, we dive and investigate – move to the next section."
Cloud gives a genuine smile to Aeris' reflection in the mirror. "Which is why we've already started doing exactly that – and why I'm so happy you're here."
He motions for another round. The bartender winks.
At the hour, the noise of the bar had died down to rough mumbles, and the click of pool balls. Distantly, Zack Fair can be heard hustling some of the local dock hands. Aeris takes the bottle graciously, tipping her smile to the waitress.
"I think you're wrong," she says through her teeth as the waitress – Ester, the nametag reads – gives a flirtatious wink to Cloud.
"Hmm?"
"About the Leviathans," she says.
Cloud laughs. It's a full sound that starts in his diaphragm and causes his shoulders to shake. "Are you still peddling that ridiculous theory? Aeris, they found the skeletons – they're in Wutai."
"You're as bad as my students. Mermaids come to shore asking for sugar and you don't think dragons exist."
Aeris laughs this time.
Feedback always welcome and appreciated. Update Scheduled: December 30th, 2013
