Note: I'm unsure whether 'epiphany' can be used in a non-Christian sense. If not, please accept it as dramatic license!

Midgar Story, by JetNoir

2. THE BROOM TREE

If you were to see the sprawling metropolis of Midgar from a distance, then you might comment on its almost ethereal beauty. Starlight gleaming down from the heavens – if they still exist somewhere – draws the eye towards its gleaming spires and towers.

It is only when you get closer that you can see the disguised and discarded truth.

Pollution spews into the atmosphere, at an unprecedented rate; dirt and grime are awash in the streets, and all we can do is let it wash over us, corrupting and tainting the pure nature of our souls.

What must we do?

but

Do what we must.

And all I can do – at least for the moment, our fluidic present – is wait in silence.

Witness…

LILIA

"LATE!"

Lilia winced as her boss yelled at her, as she walked quickly through the door of Shinra's HQ.

"Sorry sir," she muttered, "the train was running late."

"Not acceptable," her boss said, shaking his head slightly, "be late again, and you're fired. You're a damn good worker…one of our best clerks. I'd hate to see you go…but get up earlier tomorrow, eh?"

Lilia nodded and scurried rapidly to her small cubicle, and switched the old computer in front of her on. Reaching into a drawer, she pulled out a large, battered file.

"What's with the yelling routine?" asked Peter – a friend and neighbouring worker – seemingly concerned, "Are you okay?" Lilia nodded.

"You were only five minutes out. Not much."

Lilia shrugged: "I'll be okay." Peter smiled and sat down.

The file in front of her immediately caught her eye, and she frowned. This was very odd – the file was marked TOP SECRET. There was no way it could have been placed her accidentally, unless it was the biggest screw-up in Shinra Inc. history. Was this some sort of test of allegiance? Report the mistake or read the file?

Mentally cursing her damned curious nature she picked up the file, flicked it open, glanced around to check no one was watching and began to read the first page.

MIN

He stood alone outside the door of the Squadron Commander's office, awaiting a response to the brief knocking he had performed a few moments previously.

He had failed to catch up to the Platoon – the courier had delayed him to no small extent – but Min was concerned regarding these orders. Surely it couldn't be right?

He was a foot soldier. A 'Grunt.' Sure, there was The Mission as everyone referred to the unfortunate incident a month ago, but this was something worthy of…Sephiroth! Surely not.

"Enter."

The order was simple, and Min obeyed it, striding briskly into the office, closing the door behind him.

"Speak."

Min did.

FUREW

Disappointed, and more than a little sad, she walked slowly along the dusty ground. She had made it safely to the Church, but she knew – somewhere in the back of her mind, possibly buried in her subconscious – that she must be vigilante in her travels; but safety is not the highest priority on a little girl's mind.

It was cold along the road, and Furew shivered. Not just cold, however.

Blocking the road was a house. Furew found this curious, as the road-blocking house was not there when she first came along.

It was extremely large, terracotta bricks, and a red roof. Yet, as she gazed, the house subtly changed before her eyes. Missies popped out of the roof, ready to fire. A mouth, and face yawned lazily into existence.

Furew screamed.

EDGE

"Freeze! Hands in the air!"

As soon as he heard the immortal words, Edge inwardly winced. He slowly turned around to see four security officers slowly approaching him, automatic weapons raised and pointed menacingly at him. Soldiers. At least not from SOLDIER, and Edge was grateful for whatever small miracles ever passed his way.

"Might I enquire as too the nature of the weapons pointed in front of me?" Edge asked.

"Shut it!" yelled one of the soldiers, gesturing menacingly with his rifle.

Edge winced again. Amateurs. Delusions of grandeur. This would get very messy if it wasn't defused soon. Dropping to the floor, Edge rolled sideways, drawing a pistol, raised it and fired.

The empty click reverberated in the almost-empty street, and Edge winced again as he realised that the clip was empty.

What was this? Multiple screw-ups? How did he get so careless?

Sliding the empty clip out, letting it fall to the floor, Edge leaped forward violently, as ravenous gunfire emitted from the smoking and flashing barrels behind him, and ran towards cover, in this case, the corner of the street. He slammed in a fresh clip, threw his arm around the corner, and fired blindly. Hearing two thuds, Edge knew that some of the bullets had hit. A dull clunk showed that the clip was empty again, so tucking the gun into his coat; he drew a concealed short sword, and rolled into the approaching soldiers. Hacking left, then right, the sword drew blood, and the men of Shinra simply died – painfully, but quickly.

Tired, he fled at the sound of approaching boots. He was in no shape to fight more men. No shape to kill anyone else. What was the matter? What had gone wrong?

SHINRA ADMINISTRATIVE DEPARTMENT IN RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT (THE TURKS)

Tseng, Vincent, Reno and Rude

An epiphany.

The simple word rung clear in Vincent Valentine's brain, as he was transported by the simple power the imagination holds over each of us.

It was night, and he was sitting, sipping liquid from a china cup, underneath a tree. A broom tree. Starlight and moonlight flooded down onto him, like a quasi-invisible sea.

Words were written onto the bark, in a red that seemed thicker than blood.

'HOME'

But the caressing moonlight was not to stay for long. Dark clouds covered the sky with a rapidity that Vincent would have thought to have been impossible. A thin and violent streak of golden lightning shot down from the heavens, striking the tree with perfect accuracy, setting it ablaze.

Vincent leapt forward, the cup falling out of his hand, smashing into a million pieces as it fell onto hard ground that had once been soft grass only a moment ago. He lay – sprawled out as flames licked the air behind him.

The message was being wiped out. Slowly and systematically destroyed.

"Pass the goddamned sugar!" yelled Rude – living up to his namesake – causing Vincent to snap out of his vision, Tseng to hiss viciously to Rude to not draw attention, and for every other inhabitant of the café to stare at The Turks…although Rude didn't care. It was the third time he'd asked after all.

"What is it?" asked Tseng.

"Nothing," replied Vincent.

But deep in his heart, Vincent Valentine knew that this was not so.

ERICA

Her errands at the church complete for the day Erica walked swiftly away, not wanting another confrontation with…her. Aeris was an extremely good friend, but her somewhat meddling nature – often helpful in times of trial – was not needed. Not today. Not now.

Leaving Sector 5, and heading to Sector 6, she slid down a narrow path – a shortcut to her destination.

Erica didn't hear the terrified scream Furew made – nor did she see her. If only she had bothered to walk down the normal route then what will follow might have been completely different.

Does anyone really care?

The bright sordid lights of the Honeybee Inn – a surreal mix of massage parlour and…den of darker vices – called out to her, yet it would have been impossible to simply walk through the front door. Using her deceptively strong strength, she leapt upwards at the side of the building, landing squarely on the roof, a floor above the ground. No one had seen her, no one could see her…simply because no one gave a damn.

These were petty people, interested only in their own petty lives. It made Eri feel sick.

Opening the skylight, she dropped down into a light and airy room.

"Po-" began a scantily clad bee, before gazing at Eri and freezing, her every muscle locking rigidly in place, and falling over backwards, luckily (for her) onto a soft bed.

"Sorry," whispered Erica. Throughout the entire exchange she had not moved from the position she had come in from. There was no one here. Thankfully. Avoiding touching the young girl, Eri set about searching frantically in the room. In a dusty corner, she saw it, a book – dropped by her employer – although his reason for being here wasn't as sordid as some might make out. The Honeybee Inn also was incredibly discreet – enabling clandestine meetings between parties who did not want to be discovered together.

She picked up the book, tracing a delicate finger around the gold embossed lettering of the bound cover…letters that read PRAYER.

And then she was gone.

ANTHONY

Six feet under the desolate earth lay rotting flesh. Multiple bodies piled up with no respect, only a desire to be rid of the needless dead, what Shinra Inc believed was an unnecessary drain on valuable resources.

And so he was dead.

And that was all there was to that.

THE WITNESS

I stand here, beneath the Broom Tree, sheltering from the vicious storm that rages around me. Is this who I have been given to work with? It had begun, and already I am impatient. An imperfect being, sent to help imperfect beings. I walk out from under the tree, the second it bursts into flame. The fire does not touch me, but I feel it, and relish its heat, but it is soon put out by the torrential rainfall.

I continue to walk – forwards and onwards to Midgar, with a singular though burning in my skull.

Perhaps I should force contact?

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