-Chapter 3-

Smoke & Mirrors


Pray for me cause I have lost my faith in holy war; is paradise denied to me? Cause I can take no more. Has darkness taken over me, consumed my mortal soul? All my virtues sacrificed, can Heaven be so cruel?

I believe it would justify the means, it had a hold over me. Blinded to see the cruelty of the beast, it is the darker side of me. The veil of my dreams deceived all I have seen, forgive me for all I have been,, forgive me my sins.

I'm hoping I'm praying I won't get caught between two worlds, for all I have seen, the truth lies in between. Give me the strength to face the wrong that I have done, now that I know the darkest side of me.


Tifa did her best to relax, as she lay flat upon the doctor's table and stared up at the beige colored ceiling. The white lights had long since given her a headache, and so she turned her head to the side, instead focusing on the floral wallpaper. She felt something akin to a pinch and a strange sensation, and jumped suddenly, gasping.

"So sorry, dear," Came the second female's voice, "a necessary evil I'm afraid!"

"It's okay," Tifa breathed, trying to control her heart beat.

Her legs had been pushed up and apart, a pale pink cover thrown over them in order to hide the procedure the doctor was performing. To her right sat a tiny metal tray, with small vials containing blood and other bodily fluids collected from her.

"Okay, all done," The female doctor said, and stood up straight, "You can relax now."

Tifa breathed a small sigh of relief and lowered her legs, slowly sitting up and putting her bare feet on the cold floor; she shivered.

The doctor was a kindly woman, mid forties with small box-framed glasses and chestnut hair pulled into a bun. She wore a simple burgundy colored button down shirt and matching blouse, the white doctors coat thrown over that and brushing just three inches from the floor. She picked up a nearby clipboard and slid into a stool, scooting closer to the bed, "Just a couple questions if you don't mind?"

The brunette nodded with a tiny smile, "Of course, Dr. Alison."

Alison nodded, "Sorry if it all seems too personal," Then cleared her throat, "Do you remember the exact time of your last sexual encounter?"

Tifa thought for a moment, "The day the Brotherhood attacked Junon, well... that exact day an... incident happened. But it was the night before that."

The doctor scribbled a few notes, "If I can ask, what sort of... incident?"

"It was nothing relating to this," Tifa answered immediately, the incident in question being her kidnapping by the Brotherhood agents, the Twin Blades.

Alison nodded, "Symptoms like yours don't normally appear so soon... anything else?"

"Well..." Now Tifa blushed, slightly, "The first time me and my..." She paused, and very briefly giggled, "Well, I don't know what you might call him, but..."

"Yes?" The doctor pressed.

"I can't remember the exact date, I just remember everything that happened around that time," Tifa admitted.

"Another rebel attack?"

"Kind of," Tifa went on, "Right around the time before they took Fort Condor. Me and Cloud... well, it just kind of happened suddenly. A heat of the moment situation, you know?"

The doctor chuckled, but not unkindly, "Ah yes, my dear... I have been there and done that. So there was no protection involved?"

Tifa shook her head, "No... as I said, all the feelings and emotions just kinda... burst." At the last word, she felt herself blush again.

"And when did you start feeling nauseous?"

"A few days ago, it just came out of nowhere."

Alison wrote a few more notes, then checked her watch, "Any mood swings?"

Tifa wondered first if what this diagnosis was for was the cause of her outbursts, or something more, "Yes, but... I'm not sure if it's because of that. Stressful times, and fighting in a war doesn't help I think."

"You're right, my dear," The other woman admitted, then tucked the clipboard under her arm and stood up. "Well, I'll get these sent to the lab right away, the results should be back before you know it." Then picked up the metal tray with the vials upon it, and set it aside.

"Thank you, Dr. Alison," Tifa said with a smile, and stood up.

"It's what I signed up for," The other said with a smile of her own. She then removed a small note pad and scribbled something onto it.

"I'm writing you a prescription for the nausea, afraid it's all the clinic can spare until we know for sure; lots of wounded soldiers, you understand."

Tifa nodded, and received the slip of paper, "You'll call me when the results are back, right?"

"Of course, dear! In the meantime, if you're not too sure, have you considered a home pregnancy test?"

"I'm... afraid I'll get caught," Tifa admitted shamefully, "There's just so much going on, and I don't want everyone jumping to conclusions..."

"Well, I'm no expert, but..." Dr. Alison said, and stepped closer to Tifa, "From one woman to another, this might just be the thing that changes everyone's perspective. A child will make a person fight that much harder, especially to stay alive. Whatever you decide to do, I'm sure it will be the right choice."

And then the doctor picked up the metal tray containing the vials, and was gone, Tifa left standing in the medical room in only the night robe provided to her. She stepped over to the small locker closet and retrieved her clothes, pausing to look out the large wall window for a perfect view of Edge. Like always, the sky was overcast with gray clouds, and once Tifa placed a palm on the glass, she discovered it was ice cold. She shivered and drew away, lamenting that she had not thought to bring a coat or jacket with her. She tossed the gown off of her and set about getting dressed, but always she watched the cityscape outside, and wondered. Should she tell Cloud, or any of the others?

What would the consequences or otherwise of that be? How would Cloud react? Would he be angry, sad, afraid, happy, blissful? Would he somehow resent her, keep her closer, change his ways once and for all? And what about Barret and Cid? They would be happy for her she knew... but it was Cloud that concerned her. Maybe he would appear overjoyed on the outside, but fearful on the inside, and he would run away again. He would run away to fight, while leaving her all alone, thinking that he had to fight himself to protect her and the child. Idly, Tifa placed a palm upon her stomach, but still gazed out the window.

"It's still too soon to know for sure," She said out loud.

And that aside, there was still the other matter to confront Cloud about. That being his nightmares, and his odd behavior lately.

He promised.

Once she zipped her vest up and ruffled out the rest of her clothing, Tifa pulled open the door and stepped out. She was instantly greeted by a burly WRO marine, who instantly stood at attention.

"Miss Lockhart!" The soldier said.

For some reason, Tifa giggled, "At ease!"

"Yes, ma'am!" And relaxed.

"Just Tifa, please. Can I help you?"

The soldier shook his head, "President Tuesti wanted me to stay close and make sure all was well."

Tifa raised an eyebrow, "Does Reeve think I need a babysitter now?"

The question stunned the soldier, who fumbled with his words, "N-No ma'am, er, Tifa! I mean Miss Lockhart! Um... damn..."

"It's okay, calm down," Tifa said, putting a hand on the man's shoulder.

The soldier took a steady breath, then nodded, "I think that the President met with Mr. Strife in his holding cell... he requested the President assign someone to watch over you. He, that is, Mr. Strife, wants to make sure you're okay."

Here, the brunette looked away, hiding a smile behind a raised palm. Could it be sincere, or maybe guilt from the blonde's outburst in the office? And if the latter, could she forgive him so quickly?

"Where is Cloud?"

"He and Mr. Wallace are still locked in solitary,"

"I want to see them, please," Tifa said with a wry smile.

"Um..." The soldier began, "I don't think I'm authorized to..."

"It's okay," Tifa calmed him quickly, "Reeve is a close friend, I'll personally make sure you won't get in trouble."

"I don't know if..."

Tifa fought off a sudden surge of frustration and anger, forcing the smile to stay on her lips, "I just really need to see Cloud, okay? Let him know myself I'm all right... it would help both of us more than you know."

Finally, the soldier sighed, though he smiled a small smile, "Yes ma'am. Right this way, I'll take you straight down."


~ ` ` ` [VII] ` ` ` ~


~ ` ` ` [Edge City; WRO Tower] ` ` ` ~


Rufus used the butt end of his cane to push open one of the doors leading directly into his personal office with Elana in tow. Across the room, standing behind a large oak desk, stood Lysa, arms crossed behind her back, and a younger blonde female Turk recruit seated in a chair. Rufus hobbled past them without a word and sat himself behind the desk, gesturing the three females to seat themselves.

"I assume the three of you know why you're here," Rufus stated flatly.

The three women nodded somberly, the blonde recruit looking absolutely terrified.

"And why are you shaking?" Rufus asked, taking notice of this.

"I'm sorry, sir, it's just... Director Tseng? Who would want to do that to him?" She replied, voice just as shaky as her body.

"Someone who is an enemy, obviously," Lysa added, sarcastically.

"But how could they get inside?" Elana threw in.

Rufus drummed his fingertips together, "It's why all of you are here."

"What about the other recruits?" Lysa spoke next.

"A moment," Rufus held up a hand.

To Rufus' right sat two small video monitors, which showed two different angles of the spot right outside the door to the office.

"Sir?" Elana's voice chimed.

"I said, a moment. We're expecting two more visitors."

That piqued Lysa's interest, "Who, sir?"

"A surprise I suppose you could say," Rufus chuckled, "Ah, here they come now. Yes, get in here, both of you!" He suddenly called across the room.

All eyes turned towards the door when it was pushed open, and when the redheaded and bald Turks entered the room, a stunned silence filled it.

"It... it can't be!" Lysa gawked.

"Is it...?" Elana sat frozen in place.

The female recruit said nothing.

Reno smirked his trademark smirk, "Back from the dead, kiddies!"

Rude nodded, and added gruffly, "Gonna take more than miles of wilderness and rebels to kill us."

"Reno! Rude! You're alive!" Elana finally snapped, darting across the room and slinging an arm around the both of their necks. The impact nearly knocked the two men over.

"Damn... chick! Can't... breathe!" Reno gasped, but they both patted her on the back in acknowledgment.

Elana quickly drew away, wiping a stray tear that appeared on her cheek, "You guys just don't understand how happy I am! First I thought you both died in that helicopter explosion, then the Director is attacked... I thought I was the only original Turk left!"

Reno made a 'pfft' sound, "Should've known we'd come strolling through that door again! Get real!"

Rude added, "We had help, and without her we probably wouldn't have made it."

"Help?" Elana pondered, "Her? Who is it?"

"That doesn't matter right now," Rufus' voice pulled the three from their conversation. "Come, sit."

As the three Turks moved closer to the desk, Reno looked Lysa up and down and grinned, "What up, chick? Glad you're still alive!"

Lysa grinned right back, "Reno, right back at'cha." She then turned her eyes to Rude, and they seemed to sparkle, just slightly, "Rude, I'm definitely happy to see you. Welcome back."

Rude cleared his throat and merely looked away.

"Damn, buddy," Reno leaned over and whispered into the bald Turk's ear, once Lysa looked away, "I think she wants your wiggle stick, man!"

Rude pushed the redhead away.

"Reno... Rude," The female recruit said meekly.

"And who's this?" Reno asked.

"Oh! I'm Mariana, Mary for short," She nodded.

"The one who first found Tseng after his assault," Elana added.

"And now we're going to get to the bottom of this," Rufus said, "Reno, Rude, once again welcome back. Pull up a chair."

"What do we know?" Rude asked, once seated.

"Little to nothing," Rufus replied, reaching into a locked drawer and pulling out a brown business file, looking at the recruit Mariana, "We'll start with you."

Mariana adjusted nervously in her seat.

Rufus licked his thumb and began to flip through the pages of the docket, "Mariana Elizabeth Swars, daughter to one Gregory Swars, one of several acting commanders of the WRO ground forces," Rufus nodded, "Aged twenty-one, you aced all your tests in record time. You should know, given the circumstances, that the Director favored you the most, that you might have been his finest student."

Mariana perked slightly at that.

"For Reno and Rude," Rufus continued, "The attack happened a few days ago, estimated around four-thirty to five-thirty that morning. Mariana, continue."

"Um..." The second blonde female began, and seemed to shrink in her seat when every eye was upon her, "I don't understand?"

"Details, Mariana," Rufus replied, trying to keep his cool, "Tell your two friends there what you told me and the police."

"Yo, relax chick!" Reno said with a smile, putting a hand on the girl's shoulder, which drew a pseudo jealous look from Elana that no one noticed, "Just ease on through it!"

"Well," Mariana recounted the information, "It was just before six, I was leaving my dorm to take my final initiation test. Tseng, I mean the Director, was laying there; there was so much blood... I'd never seen anything like it!"

"What weapon was used?" Elana threw in.

"Ah, right," Rufus chuckled, reaching back into the locked drawer for a second file, "You're fairly naive to the situation as well."

"A knife, and not exactly a kitchen knife," Lysa put in grimly.

"What do you mean?" Rude said.

Rufus removed a few photographs from the second file and slid them across the table to the Turks. They were photos of Tseng's body, the dagger hilt still protruding from his back, photos of the body after the weapon was carefully removed, and still more pictures of the bloody weapon itself. When the pictures of Tseng still stabbed with the knife came around, there were different reactions. Reno and Rude looked to explode, while Mariana and Elana looked to vomit. Lysa's face remained mostly unchanged, having been an eyewitness to the scene.

"What kinda knife is this?" Reno asked, studying the picture closely, "Ain't seen one like this!"

"Exactly," Rufus said, "Although I know I've seen it's like, but only once before... where, I can't recall."

The dagger in question was relatively long, the razor edge having been cute in several places, so that the blade had rows of jagged 'teeth' along it. The hilt had been modified, with brass or steel knuckles serving as hand guards, the knuckles in question ending in deadly spikes.

"None of it makes any sense though!" Elana said.

"Smoke and mirror games rarely do," Lysa replied.

"So it had to be the Brotherhood fuckers!" Reno added.

Rufus nodded, "Who else?"

"But how would they even get inside the Tower?" Mariana suddenly put in.

"Isn't it obvious?" Rufus said, "We have a spy amongst us."

Again silence followed, each of the Turks in turn eyeballing one another.

Rufus chuckled, "Normally, I would threaten the lot of you with imprisonment, should that fact leave this room, but let us be realistic. By now the entire Tower, and likely most of Edge herself, knows of Tseng's assault. I don't doubt that a traitor among us will be the first theory people assume. But I'll say this; it wouldn't be a theory."

"But who?" Elana asked.

"And why?" Mariana added.

"Don't be stupid, chicks!" Reno scoffed, "Ya cut the head off the snake and the body dies!"

"Boss, do you think the assassin was trying to get to you or Reeve?" Rude wondered.

Rufus shrugged, "Who knows, maybe. Now Reeve wanders around with armed marines at all times. If neither of us were the original target, one can be sure we'll likely be next."

"Good thing we're back!" Reno laughed.

"No," Rufus quickly said, "I've other tasks for you and Rude."

Lysa nodded to the two male Turks, "I'm almost always close by, you two can rest easy."

Rufus chuckled, "Lysa has proven herself since you both have been gone. Should something happen to me, I have the proper... contengencies in place."

"What's that mean, sir?" Elana asked.

"Don't worry about it," Rufus said flatly.

"You never did answer my earlier question, sir," Lysa tried to say as politely as possible, "What do we do about the other recruits? As I understand it, the Director was questioning them about... something or the other. Could that be the reason?"

"Perhaps," Rufus considered, feigning ignorance. "The question is what it was Tseng was digging into, and more importantly, why the Brotherhood would want to keep that information secret."

"Oh ho, don't worry boss!" Reno said with a smirk, "We'll beat it out of 'em if we have to!"

"Did the Director approach you?" Rude asked Mariana, turning towards her.

She shook her head, "No, the last time I saw Director Tseng was after he returned from Junon."

"And did he say anything?" Rufus questioned.

Again, Mariana shook her head, "No, sir, we never even spoke. I just... saw him."

Now Rufus' eyes darkened, "Are you sure, Mariana?"

"Y-Yes sir, I swear!"

"No offense boss, but this one don't look the type!" Reno quickly threw in.

"Explain, Reno."

"She doesn't have the look, you know? You stick her worst enemy, bound and gagged in front of her and give her a loaded pistol, I don't think she could pull the trigger!"

"If that's the case," Lysa huffed, "then she won't make it very far as a Turk."

"Enough, Lysa," Rufus chided. Then glanced at Elana, "What's the report from the docks?"

Elana removed a small notepad from the insides of her jacket, pushing it across the table to Rufus, "Still ahead of schedule, sir! Nearly all of Edge is now vacant, save for the soldiers, volunteer first responders, and... the pig-headed."

Reno chuckled, "If you're gonna stick around in the kitchen, why not put on an apron and join the party?"

"Enough. I believe it's time to move on with the next steps," Rufus, using his cane, slowly rose to his feet, the five Turks quickly following suit. He pointed first to Mariana, "Return to your dorm and stay there; I also suggest you not breathe a word of this to any of your fellow recruits."

Without a word, Mariana saluted, then quickly left.

"And you," Rufus now nodded at Lysa, "Find Sergeant Biggs and send him here. After, I want a full report on the Northern Glacier operation faxed to me, ASAP. Shut the door on your way out."

"Sir," Lysa also saluted, and left.

"What's going on, bossman?" Reno asked.

Rufus' face turned serious then, "What I'm about to say, I only trust the three of you to hear. Including Tseng, you four have been with me the longest, and I know none of you three could have a part in his assault."

"Ya mean besides the fact me and Rude here have been absent from class for a while?" Reno chuckled.

Rude elbowed the redhead to silence him.

"Sir?" Elana asked.

Rufus turned away from the three, hobbling over to stand before the wall window, "Shortly after the Brotherhood began to besiege Junon, Tseng had called Reeve. Among other things, he had requested the Turk recruit teams be sent to help. As I recall, the order was passed onto Lysa, who should have been the one to lead the recruits to the city." Here he turned and looked at the others, "Tseng told me that not a single recruit had been present at the battle."

"You think Lysa's the traitor?" Elana gasped.

Rufus shook his head, "Faulty equipment, her not being present when the order was originally given... excuses, reasons, smoke and mirrors. Who knows? Anyway, Tseng was interviewing the recruits about the order to assist Junon, and the second night is when he was attacked."

"Sir, if you don't think Lysa's directly involved, then why did you dismiss her?" Rude asked.

"Because this is war, Rude, and war has always been based on deception." Rufus answered darkly, "As I told the unconscious Tseng, all possibilities have to be considered. Even the ones that are ridiculous. And I also know the three of you will keep this strictly to yourselves."

"What do you need us to do, boss?" Reno spoke next.

Now Rufus turned and, using his cane for support, moved to stand directly in front of the Turks, "To continue doing what Tseng had started, Find out what you can, see if any of them have any direct ties with one another. If they ever went to Junon in the first place, where they come from, why and when they decided to recruit themselves into the Turks, what they had for breakfast the day before..."

"When the dudes go to the bathroom, how many times do they shake it... got it! Everything we can!" Reno grinned.

"And Lysa, sir?" Elana offered.

"I'll look into her myself," Rufus responded, "And? Whatever digging you do, do so discreetly. You three should be able to strike fear and send the message that whatever conversations happen between you three and the recruits never happened."

Rude cracked his knuckles, chuckling briefly.

"If you find anything suspicious, anything at all, even if it seems mundane, you report directly and immediately to me. Not to Reeve, not to Lysa, me. Understand?"

"Yes, sir!" The three Turks said in unison.

"But," Rufus quickly put in, "Not so soon. Two or three days, a lot of loose lips in this Tower. In the meantime... Reno and Rude, I suspect you should instead take a few combat trials. All of those days, weeks... however long you spent in the wilderness, you're rather rusty."

"Hah!" Reno laughed, "Not exactly! I think at this point I'd rather hit the bar down at the lobby!"

Rude stretched his right arm out straight, flexing the muscle, "Maybe I'll be at the gym, after I have a doctor look at this."

"Gonna train with Lysa?" Reno teased.

Rude punched the redhead in the arm.

"You're all dismissed, by the way," Rufus scoffed, "Elana, take a day yourself. I'll call you if I need you."

As the three exited threw the door, Elana surprised Reno by hooking both of her arms around one of his, "You mentioned hitting the bar? Care if I join you?"

Reno raised an eyebrow, but after a second only laughed and flung an arm over the female's shoulder, "Why the hell not? I'll show ya a good time!"

Rufus in the meantime, resumed his position at the window, studying the same dull, gray cityscape that was Edge. In that moment he had to consider... after this was all said and done, what would he be? What would history remember him as? The tyrant, the savior, the shadow game, or the unknown? A sudden blast of cold air blew in from the nearby open window, ruffling his hair and sending his white coat billowing backwards. Rufus shivered, but did not move from his spot. Just as he was about to be lost into his own mind, the door opened; he didn't even have to look to know who would simply walk right inside.

"Reeve," Rufus said flatly.

"Rufus," The other responded, leaving his two guards outside the office and shutting the door.

Now Rufus turned and moved back to his desk, "And what do I owe the pleasure this time? That's twice in the same day, so I assume it's important."

Reeve examined the five chairs the Turks had left behind, as well the open file and photos upon the desk, "Looks like you've had a busy morning,"

Rufus shrugged, gathering the pictures and files and locking them back in his desk "Just taking care of some business."

"And does that business involve pulling my personal men for guard duty?"

Rufus chuckled, "My, word really does spread fast. That or Biggs has a bigger mouth than I thought."

"So you admit it, then," Reeve continued, sliding into an empty stool, "Why? What are you scheming now, Rufus?"

"Mother of all the gods," Rufus sighed, "why does it always have to be a conspiracy theory with you, Reeve? Last I checked, your special ops team aren't doing anything, and so I asked the good Master Sergeant for a small favor."

"And threatened to have him prosecuted for insubordination," Reeve pointed out.

Rufus sighed again, "Does anyone have a backbone anymore? You'd think the lot of us were still in grade school."

"That doesn't matter, Rufus. I want to know why you pulled two of my own entourage to guard Tseng. You have an entire floor full of Turks and recruits, and with Reno and Rude being back..."

Rufus held up a single finger, it pointing directly at the other man, "Clearly, there is someone in this Tower, this very city that isn't who they appear to be. I have Reno, Rude, and Elana on other tasks, and frankly, they're the only three that I trust right now."

"You think it was one of the other Turks, or the recruits?" Reeve asked.

"I wonder how many times I'm going to be asked that now," Rufus huffed, "I don't know, Reeve. For all we know, it could be one of your special soldiers. Someone has to be answering directly to the rebels, however."

"What makes you say that?"

"Think about it, Reeve," Rufus said with a hard edge, "Every time our forces and theirs have clashed, something else has happened, and something always seems to go wrong. It's like they somehow know what we're planning to do next."

Reeve considered this, a pang of fear shooting down his spine, "If that's even true, it could be anyone." He then paused, and his eyes slowly grew more dark as he stared hard at the other man.

Rufus made a face, "If you say it out loud, I swear on the Lifestream this cane and your teeth are going to be well acquainted. I am well and truly offended that you would even assume such a thing!"

"You said it yourself, Rufus," Reeve glowered, "We have to consider every possibility, even the ones that might seem ridiculous."

Rufus looked stunned, "You bugged my office Why?"

Reeve shot to his feet then, "If you're not the traitor, then why are you suddenly bristling?"

Rufus opened his mouth to speak, reconsidered, then thought something that Reno might say, "And what if I were... having some 'me-time' with a lady friend?"

Reeve had to force his face to remain serious, "Then I would say it's a good thing I skipped breakfast,"

Rufus turned serious again, "I'm angered of you apparently not trusting me, not because I have anything to hide, but for the simple fact of not trusting me."

"I'm sorry, Rufus," Reeve said, "but it comes with the security risk. I promise you, you're not the only one that has been bugged."

"And what of Cloud and all his friends? Shall they be as well?"

Reeve shook his head, "There's no reason for that."

"Oh! So you'll trust them but not me, your partner?"

"Cloud and the others have done more for this Planet than anyone else. And unlike you, they haven't given me a reason to not trust them!"

Rufus snorted angrily, "Suit yourself, Reeve, if this is the game we're going to play. And what about everything else? Are you going to tell Cloud any of that?"

"They'll know when the time is right,"

"Oh-ho, perhaps you've just given them a reason not to trust you. That pendulum swings both ways you know."

"What's going on with the Northern Glacier operation?" Reeve changed the subject.

"Why are you asking? You already know I have Lysa looking into it, as well what Reno, Rude, and Elana are going to be doing."

Reeve nodded, "Sharper than most, I'll give you that."

"Wouldn't still be alive if I weren't," Rufus agreed.


~ ` ` ` [VII] ` ` ` ~


~ ` ` ` [S.S Garland, western seas] ` ` ` ~


Tara pulled the fur lined coat tighter around herself, breathing in a deep intake of the salty air. She stood out on the prow of the ship, watching the waves splash against the hull as it cut through the water. While the sky was mostly clear, the chilly December winds led many to take shelter against the elements, while those sailors and workers forced to do their duties on deck were simply miserable. Tara found that she enjoyed that moment, the blue of the ocean almost perfectly matching the blue of the sky, and on the far horizon it was sometimes difficult to tell where one started and the other ended. To her right, leaning against the rails was a female sailor, not much younger than herself, and the two quickly struck up a conversation.

"Beautiful day, isn't it?" Tara commented.

The other woman nodded, "Very, almost makes ya forget what's really going on in the world."

"Almost," Tara agreed, "I've always found it's best to enjoy something while it lasts,"

"Unless that something is a bad boyfriend or girlfriend," The woman giggled, then held out a hand, "Petty Officer Sara Crimin."

Tara accepted the offered hand, "Tara Norfolk," She nodded, thinking that her name as an army medic would mean nothing to a member of the navy. But she was wrong.

"Sergeant Norfolk, the one who went missing, then turned back up in Junon?"

Tara's mind instantly went to Ed, the first one to recognize her when she did indeed return. She forced a modest smile, making a mental note that, if she ever saw the private again, to shoot him for ratting her out, "I'm flattered, but no, must be two Tara Norfolk's."

The female sailor narrowed her eyes, "You sure? 'Cause you got the look, like you've seen things."

Tara shrugged, "Haven't we all seen things? Just a boring civilian is all I am, meeting up with my family in Costa del Sol."

The other woman looked suspicious, but shrugged and didn't pursue the matter, "Well, whatever. None of my business anyway."

Tara inwardly sighed in relief, "What about you?"

Sara shrugged again, "Nothing special here. Joined the navy soon as I hit the appropriate age, started out peeling potatoes like most of the seamen and women you see here, now petty officer third class."

"Have you always been on the Garland?" Tara asked.

"Nah, only been on her a few months now. Started out on one of the smaller ships, Pink Chocobo, more a fishing trolley than anything," Sara snorted, "Volunteered for submarine duty, found out quick like I was claustrophobic. Ten megatons of paperwork later, and here I am. I'd like to serve on the Odin though."

Tara nodded, "Captain Deidra is the fiercest sea captain in the fleet, I've heard."

"Oh, she's fantastic!" The other female beamed, "Met her once a couple years ago. No one told me she was a hottie either!" She giggled.

Tara, not expecting that, forced a giggle, "Well... I suppose."

"Ah, don't worry," Sara said, patting the other woman on the shoulder, "You're not my type. Anyway, nice talking to ya, back to doing the duties." Then turned and trotted away.

Tara watched her go, shaking her head and glad to be out of what certainly would have been a forever awkward situation. She had no problems with such things, believing any form of discrimination was childish and silly, yet at the same time that particular comment she did not expect. The prow of the ship cut through a thick wave, the resulting sea foam spraying well above her head, a few thick drops splashing her in the face and shoulders. Her breath left her for a moment, and she began to shiver even harder than before.

"Most would choose to hide below deck,"

A voice caught her attention, and when she turned to face the one behind it, began to glare, "Like a kitchen mouse?"

Vincent nodded, "Like someone with common sense,"

"Where's the sense in not enjoying a beautiful day?" Tara shot back.

The gunman walked past her, to stand as far up the point of the ship as possible, "Because it's a lie."

Tara remained silent for a moment, and studied the man in front of her. The wind whipped past him, throwing the tattered red cloak this way and that behind him. His thick black hair likewise blown backwards, and to Tara, he looked almost at peace, but always prepared for the worst situations.

"What do you mean it's a lie?" She finally asked.

Vincent didn't take his eyes off the horizon, "Fleeting moments that come and go, none of it changes the truth of the world."

"And that truth would be?"

Finally, red eyes turned to stare at her, seeming to look directly into her soul, "That it's a cold, uncaring place that will let you die and not care."

"Sheesh, way to spoil the mood," Tara huffed, "How do you get by with that sunny disposition of yours?"

"I'm still alive, aren't I?" Then he turned away again, "I accept the truth."

Tara stepped closer now, to stand directly next to him, "But if that's the real truth of it, what's the point in living? Don't you have any family?"

Vincent shook his head.

"Loved ones?"

He did not move, nor blink.

"What about Yuffie, then?" Tara spat, "This seems like an awful lot of trouble for one person."

"You're here, aren't you?" He suddenly reminded her.

But Tara didn't back down, "It's different for me. I was with her at Fort Condor, and I couldn't save her. I thought I watched her die, right in front of me. I wake up in the woods with Reno and Rude, practically right outside Fort Condor, then I find out that's where she was the whole time."

"So your guilt is what drives you," Vincent scoffed, "Guilt can kill as easily as a blade or bullet,"

"You don't believe in retribution? Redemption? Making up for your mistakes?" Tara looked up at him.

He scoffed again, "As I told Cloud once... I've never tried."

"Still doesn't explain why you're going on a suicide mission just for Yuffie," Tara argued.

He surprised her by suddenly whipping around, standing with their bodies an inch apart, and his right hand tightly gripping the jacket she wore.

"One shouldn't dig into what is not their concerns. I left the only people that I cared for back on the mainland, in Edge, and now one of those people are in chains. My personal feelings do not concern you, nor are my reasons for my actions, and as such, if you desire honesty? I don't trust you."

He forcefully let go of her coat, and took a step back, "I did not force you to come." And again whipped around, and vanished around the corner. A group of sailors who had seen the entire thing quickly parted to let the gunman through.

Tara bristled then, pulling her coat back into place and throwing back her cut hair, "Surprised anyone likes that asshole," She muttered to herself.

For the next hour Tara remained on the prow, looking for any signs of land, but always there was more ocean. The entire time she replayed her encounter with Vincent over and over again, trying to piece together everything he said. Perhaps that was his way of shutting her out, talking in circles and having a dark and gloomy outlook on life. He said it himself that he did not trust her, and she considered the feeling mutual. It was understandable, she decided, because the two did not know each other, and so far only had one common bond: Yuffie. Maybe things would change as they continued to travel together, maybe not.

"If not, this is gonna be one swell adventure," The woman sighed out loud.

But then again, she had the same opinions on Reno and Rude, the first few days wanting nothing more than to strangle the redhead. As it turned out, she gained two new allies, perhaps even two new friends as well. She more closely considered that situation, looking down into the ocean with a smile. Trials and tribulations had a funny way of drawing people closer together. Just then, six dark shadows raced ahead of the ship, and for a moment she became concerned, even drew back and reaching for her pistol. A moment later, the shadows leaped up out of the water, just as quickly vanishing beneath the surface of the water. They were a breed of dolphins, but with a single large horn protruding from the front of their snouts, and smaller ones running down their spines. Tara laughed at her jumpy nature, and watched the creatures for a few minutes, they racing alongside the ship and always leaping upward out of the water.

"If only you guys could see this," She said, thinking of her family, sister Trinity, husband Marcus and their daughter Rose, and even Yuffie.

She would see them all again, just as she would see the Turks again. Nodding, she finally turned and left the upper deck, pushing open a steel door and descending the stairs in front of her.

Three more doors and two more flights of stairs later, Tara deduced that she was indeed, very much lost. She hadn't seen another sailor, or anyone for that matter in some time. Down here, the hallway was dark, with dim lights hanging overhead, swaying slowly one way and then the other as the ship rocked. On either side of her were large crates, tightly bundled with straps and nets, large black stamps reading 'WRO' and 'PROPERTY OF...' with strange letters she had never seen before.

"Shit, I take it this isn't the chow hut," She said out loud, her voice echoing off against the steel.

She took five more steps, then another voice called out to her, "Not quite!"

Tara froze then and whirled around to see a large man standing in front of her. He was completely bald and clean shaven, with a nasty thick scar across the right side of his scalp.

"Who the hell are you, sailor?" Tara stood her ground, hand shooting to her pistol.

The man laughed loudly, "Ain't no sailor, bitch! Oh, but don't tell the boys upstairs that!"

"What are you..."

Before she could finish, a body slammed into her side, knocking her hard against one of the thick wooden crates. Her hand instead fell on her knife, and she quickly sliced it outward, the man who shoved her aside receiving a shallow cut across the inside of his elbow. However, just as quick a third man came around the corner, wrapping his meaty fist around her wrist, and twisting it so she dropped her weapon. Tara in answer swung her left fist around, clocking the third man straight in the nose, forcing him backward.

"C'mon ya pansies!" The original, largest man continued to laugh.

By now Tara had found her senses, reaching for her fallen knife with her left hand and the right snatching her pistol out. Just as she threw her pistol out, the second man snuck up to her left, reaching for her; a moment later he fell backward dead, a bullet in his brain. However, when she did that, her back had been turned to the third man, who quickly ran up and wrapped his arms around her smaller frame, lifting her up and thus binding her arms as well. Air left her lungs as the man began to squeeze as hard as he could, her legs and feet thrashing to strike any weak spot or vital organ of some sort.

Now the first man stepped closer, bending down to pick up Tara's dropped survival knife, "Now here's a pretty thing!" He chuckled, then just as quick began to slice and tear at Tara's shirt.

Tara thrashed and screamed, sinking her teeth into her captor's finger when he tried to silence her; she paid for it with a backhand across the mouth from the knife-wielding man. Her mind flashed back to her and the Turks' journey, remembering the battle with the Brotherhood soldiers in the forest, and knew at once who these men were.

"How did you rebel shits get onto a WRO battleship?" Tara yelled, hoping the noise could catch someone's attention. She paid for it with yet another backhand across the mouth; she spat out a wad of blood.

"Scream all ya want, bitch! Ain't nobody gonna hear ya down here!" The first man laughed, "You WRO fucks ain't as clever as ya might think! We got eyes and ears everywhere!"

"But how?" Tara pleaded, trying to buy some more time, and hoped.

"I think ya better be more concerned with what me an' my boy here are about to do to that pretty little body!" The second man chuckled into her ear, as the first used her own knife to slice away the fabric of her bra, yanking it free and leaving her completely exposed.

"No! No! I'll fucking kill you!" Tara screamed.

"Not before we kill you!" The first man laughed even louder, and reached for her pants.

KA-POW!

Tara was suddenly sprayed with blood, as the bullet entered the back of the man's head and blew his brains out of his temple.

"Wh-what the fuck!" The man holding Tara yelled in a panic, and released her. Tara, more concerned with covering herself then getting revenge, picked up the largest piece of her coat and held it around her chest.

"Fuck this noise, I'm outta here!" The remaining man said, and turned to flee.

Tara quickly looked around, seeing her pistol laying a foot away. She snatched it up, pointing it at the retreating man's back. Before she pulled the trigger, a shadow fell from the darkness of the ceiling to land directly on the militant. She heard him scream, the shadow hoisting him into the air and then throwing him behind a row of crates.

"N-No! Please! Somebody, heeeeelp!" The sound of the doomed man's frantic pleas made Tara shiver.

"HEEEEL..."

Tara then heard a sickening sound of flesh being sliced open, followed by gagging, choking, and finally, a final KA-POW of a gunshot, which startled her so badly she dropped her own pistol.

Vincent emerged from the shadows a moment later, "Are you hurt?"

Tara shook her head, collecting her weapons and trying feebly to hold the tattered cloth around herself.

Vincent made no sound, but removed his cloak and wrapped it around her; Tara noted the golden, clawed gauntlet he wore was stained with fresh blood. She shuddered again.

"What happened to not trusting me?" Tara asked.

"Doesn't mean I wish any harm to befall an innocent," He responded simply.

Tara decided to accept that reply, and looked down at the two dead men nearby, "Those guys were..."

"...Brotherhood rebels," Vincent finished for her. "Which means that Reeve and the WRO are in greater peril than we first thought."

"How, though? How could they get onboard in the first place?"

"Look at them," Vincent told her, and when she gave him a puzzled look, he bent over one body, "What would they look like, had they not assaulted you?"

Tara pulled the red cloak tighter around her, squatting down to examine the bodies, looking for any obvious marks or tattoos. "They look like normal people,"

"Exactly," He said quickly, standing up and helping her do likewise, "There are more refugees than soldiers in times of war. And with so many wanting to flee the chaos, it's easy to sneak soldiers onto a ship, or onto a train."

"Crap..." Tara breathed, "They could have sleeper cells all over the world and we wouldn't even know it!"

"Come," Vincent bade, and turned to exit through a nearby door.

"Where are we going?" Tara followed behind.

"You're going to your room, and I'm going to have a word with the captain. Reeve has to know so that he can take the appropriate steps."

Tara, not feeling like arguing just then, agreed. She certainly didn't want to wander around a ship half-naked, instead wanting to hide in her room and let Vincent handle the hard decisions right then. The realization hit her just how dangerous the world really was, and that maybe there was some truth to what Vincent had said to her earlier that day. Maybe the world really was a cold and uncaring place. Underneath the red cloak, she touched the small locket she kept with her, and pushed the dark thoughts away. She would see them all again.


~ ` ` ` [VII] ` ` ` ~


~ ` ` ` [Edge City, solitary confinement] ~ ` ` ` ~


Cloud sat himself on the cot, letting his feet rest on the floor, he leaning forward and placing his arms onto his knees, his upper body bent forward. He stared at his boots, tracing the length of the laces and the buckles, letting his mind roam. Outside the cell it was mostly quiet, but ever so faintly soft jazz music could be heard. Earlier that day, the guard had returned to check on the both of them, and Barret somehow talked the man into procuring a small radio for his cell. The soldier agreed, and had been the one to deliver their meals and such things; Cloud had not seen the one called Wedge since the first time.

"If I was forced to listen to nothin' but my own breathing for this long I'd probably wanna be a terrorist too!" Barret had said.

It did somewhat surprise Cloud that Reeve had agreed to such a thing, but then again he wasn't a stranger, and likely felt horrible about having to lock the two of them away. His and Barret's time in solitary hadn't been entirely terrible; they both got three meals, a place to sleep, Barret had his tiny radio, while Cloud himself only requested one item, the photograph of himself and all seven of his closest friends. He looked up at the picture now, sitting upon the nearby sink, then reached over and brought it closer. First his eyes fell on Tifa, tracing his index finger around her face, managing a small smile. Next his eyes went to Vincent, he wondering where exactly the enigma was at that moment? Then to Yuffie, likewise wondering where she was, and when he and the others would see her again. Vincent seemed adamant that the Brotherhood would not harm the woman, Reeve and Rufus likewise agreeing that, in order to barter Wutai's loyalty, she would need to be whole.

"Will we all ever be together again like in this picture?" Cloud wondered out loud.

Out in the hall, Cloud heard the thumping of boots, and when he turned towards the door, A soldier was there, masked, peering in.

"All good here, Strife?" He asked.

Cloud nodded, "I'm fine,"

The masked soldier nodded, and was gone from sight. Cloud now recalled a conversation he had had with Barret earlier that day, or had it been yesterday?

"You remember when I first joined AVALANCHE back in the day? Biggs, Wedge, and Jessie?"

"Of course, foo'! Why?"

"I need to talk to you about them, seeing as we're not going anywhere."

Barret snorted through the small window of his cell door, "Why'n the hell you bringin' up the past for?"

"Because our guard, the one who's watching over us, or used to anyway, his name is Wedge." Cloud pointed out.

That got Barret's attention, "What! You sure? Is it the same guy?"

Cloud shook his head, "Unless it's a wrong memory, I thought Wedge was... well, fat. This guy is tall, muscular, even bigger than you!"

"Mother of..." Barret thought for a moment, "An' lemme guess! There's a Biggs and Jessie too?"

Cloud nodded.

"It's gotta be a coincidence! All three of 'em were crushed when..."

"Sector Seven was destroyed, yeah I remember," Cloud interrupted. "But... maybe there's a chance, you know?"

Barret disappeared from sight, "Fat chance, foo'. Damn man, why'd you even bring this shit up!"

"Better I tell you now then find out when we're released, and then probably end up right back in here,"

"What about Biggs an' Jessie? You seen them yet?" Barret asked.

Cloud snorted, "No, but here's the best part, I overheard 'Staff Sergeant' Wedge talking on the phone, and whoever this Jessie is, is a girl."

Barret said nothing, stunned.

"But," Cloud quickly added, "you might be right. When I asked this Wedge about you, he only called you 'the big black dude' and 'Mr. Wallace.' So it's gotta be a coincidence."

"Man, shut up foo'! You're making my head hurt worse!"

Cloud shook off the memory, but still considered the possibility that maybe, just maybe it was the same trio he fought alongside with during his false SOLDIER days.

Clang!

At the sound of the door opening, Cloud placed the photo onto his cot and moved to look out the cell door window. Across the hall, Barret had since fallen asleep, and no sounds came from his cell to indicate he had been disturbed. And when the visitor entered his sights, he felt his heart race just a little bit.

"Tifa?" He breathed, "How did you..."

Tifa smiled at him, stepping as close as the cell door would allow, "Called in a favor, I guess you could say. How are you?"

Cloud shrugged, "Can't complain, but I still want to."

She giggled, "I bet. Barret?"

"Barret himself is fine, snoring away as you can hear."

"And... you and him?"

"We're fine too; Cid came down and gave us a tongue lashing; you'd have loved it."

Tifa giggled again, "I may or may not have had something to do with that."

Cloud smiled, "I figured you might have," Here he placed his palm against the mesh screen, trying to be as close to her as possible, "I'm glad you came down here, though,"

Tifa followed suit, her hand just a little smaller than his own; in that moment they were so close and yet so far away, "Me too."

Here, Cloud dropped his voice to a whisper, "I haven't forgotten my promise, Tifa. Just as soon as Reeve lets me out of here, we're going to have that talk. I don't wanna do it here, because..." And here, Cloud's eyes trailed off of hers.

Tifa followed his gaze to the security camera directly above Barret's own cell, and aimed directly at the pair of them, the red light above signaling it was active.

"Audio too?" Tifa whispered.

Cloud nodded, "I wouldn't doubt it."

She sighed, "I tried to leave, you know. Go back to the bar, Reeve apparently isn't having it."

"Yeah," Cloud replied, "Cid said the whole tower is on strict lockdown."

"Doesn't give him the right to hold us prisoner," Tifa added, then blushed, "I mean... you know."

"No, I know," Cloud said with a small smirk, "But it's different for me. We shouldn't be kept here."

"I guess Cid also told you about Tseng?"

Cloud nodded, "Yeah, so I guess I can see Reeve's concerns."

Tifa pushed her face against the window, "Well, the guards told me that they might release you and Barret in a couple hours." Here, she reached into her shirt and removed a thin rolled piece of paper, which she discreetly pushed through the window to him, "This is the room Reeve gave you and me. So when you get out, that's where I'll be."

Cloud accepted the paper, tucking it into his pocket, "My first stop, promise."

She smiled again, "Gotta run, love you."

"Love ya back,"

She walked away as slowly as possible, never breaking eye contact until she was out of his sight. The door was pushed open, her escort standing there waiting for her.

"Everything all right, Miss Lockhart?" He asked.

She nodded, "Take good care of my boys, especially Cloud. If he thought Cid's tongue lashing was bad, he's in for a surprise when he gets out of there."


~ ` ` ` [VII] ` ` ` ~


~ ` ` ` [Somewhere between Fort Condor & Junction Town] ` ` ` ~


Tormuj had withdrawn inside of himself during much of the journey, the only sounds being the constant radio chatter, which he learned to ignore, and the humming of the engine. They were close now, he knew; close to yet another mysterious stop on their journey. This would be the fourth, and each time it was insisted (during the first stop, even forced) that he remain in the truck. This time, however, it would be different. The bronze-skinned man turned his green eyes to the man sitting directly across from him, and studied him more carefully. Baron Devlynn sat there, his gaze looking out the small window of the vehicle, both of his bony hands resting on the walking cane in front of him. There were not many things in the world that made his skin crawl, but Devlynn, with his skeletal face, brushed back platinum blonde hair and just the way he spoke, truly unnerved Tormuj.

"Sir Baron," The foreigner said at length, "how many more of these stops shall there be?"

Slowly, Devlynn turned his gaze to the other man, "Why, foreigner? Eager to return to that cesspool, the Junction?"

Tormuj smiled a small smile, "Eager to be out of this truck, sir!"

Devlynn scoffed, "This should be the last one."

Each time the man had returned from his 'trips', he always returned wiping the last bits of blood from his hands and face. That alone made Tormuj more eager to discover exactly what was being done.

"Shall this one accompany you this time, sir Baron?"

The other man scoffed again, "I was told by boss himself that none but my own team are to enter the labs."

Tormuj leaned forward, widening his smile, "Please, sir Baron! I'm extremely curious, and I won't tell if you won't!"

"You're a very persistent savage, aren't you?"

"Savage? How do you mean, sir?"

Now it was Devlynn's turn to lean forward on his cane, "Any person who struts about as you do wearing dead animal furs is clearly a brainless barbarian."

Tormuj leaned even closer, "You wound this one, sir. But this one has heard more than enough stories and rumors to know that the good Baron is just as much a barbarian as this one!"

Now Devlynn leaned back, smiling a small smile of his own, "And you wish to know if there are any truth to those rumors and stories."

"This one is a good secret keeper, sir Baron."

At that moment, the truck and the rest of the ten trucks of the convoy screeched to a sudden halt. Devlynn peered out the window to confirm their location, considered the situation, then chuckled, "Very well... Tormuj is it? Come with me." Then exited the vehicle.

For the most part, the band was in the middle of nowhere, with rolling brown hills of dead grass all around them, a stretch of trees far in the distance. The closest thing nearby was what appeared to be a run-down, long abandoned house, with rotten wood, missing shingles, and the door itself barely hanging onto rusted hinges. The black-clothed militants fanned out around this building, and a small team of six kicked over the door and rushed inside. A moment later, gunfire rang out, with five more men rushing in and leaping through the open windows. Devlynn and Tormuj stepped close to the commanding officer of that troop.

"Warg," A crackled voice came over the speaker on that man's belt, "just a wild warg."

Devlynn sighed, "Has it truly been that long since I came to this location?"

The commanding officer held the radio closer to his mouth, "What's the sitch?"

"All clear," Came the reply.

"You're good to go, Baron," The officer nodded.

Tormuj followed the man into the run-down building, which looked just as bad on the inside as it did the out. Much of the floor had long since rotted away, with several large holes here and there. And aside from an overturned (now bullet ridden) table in the corner, the room was empty.

"Sir Baron, this one doesn't understand why we're here!" Tormuj said.

"Shut your disgusting mouth and you'll soon see." Came to reply.

On instinct, Tormuj began to reach for a dagger, but remembered there were eleven militants around them, and instead pretended to adjust his belt.

Devlynn then stepped into a corner, raising his cane into a horizontal position; Tormuj thought the man was going to throw it, like a spear. With a soft grunt, Devlynn instead thrust the butt-end into a tiny hole in the wall, only to then turn the cane as though it were a key. All around him, Tormuj heard faint clicks, and suddenly, a large section of floor just to his left lowered an inch, then began to slide backwards. Tormuj watched all of this with a false awe, the rotted wood sliding back to reveal a metal staircase that led down into darkness.

Devlynn then stepped over, cane leading the way, "Forget everything about this world, foreigner, and prepare to enter my own." Then turned away and started down the stairs.

Tormuj, ignoring the pit in his stomach, slowly followed after; none of the militants followed.

The entire corridor was dark and dim, with only a single overhead light hanging every twenty feet or so; the areas in between were completely pitch black. Steel lined the walls, ceiling and roof, and Tormuj felt like all of it was slowly closing in on him.

"How could anyone live here, sir Baron?" The shaman asked at length.

"Not claustrophobic are we?" The Baron snickered.

"This one prefers the openness of the world outside is all!" Tormuj offered.

Devlynn scoffed, and did not pursue the matter further.

Clang, cu-clang, cu-clang, cu-clang, went the patter of boots on the steel floor, and it was soon the only sound in this enclosed space. After a few minutes, the room opened up into a larger space, though it was still considerably cramped, with the small team of six, including the Baron and the shaman. What the latter soon realized, was the faint sounds of crying and screaming, still far out in the distance. In the room were two closed doors to the left and right, each one guarded by a single sentry; water slowly dripped from the overhead pipes, creating a musty, even salty smell within. The door to the left opened suddenly, and out walked a tall, lanky man with balding hair and a lab coat over his military attire.

"What is the situation, minion?" Devlynn asked the newcomer, who placed a clipboard into his hands.

The newcomer nodded, "Ahead of schedule, Baron, we've just shipped out another truck load just before you arrived."

Devlynn made a satisfied sound, "Good, good. What of the formula?"

Now the newcomer hung his head, avoiding the other's gaze.

"Should have expected as such," Devlynn spoke, "no matter, now that I'm here perhaps I can get to the bottom of it this time. You," And pointed to one of the sentries nearby, "lead the way to the lower chambers."

"And you," This Devlynn said to Tormuj, "last chance to turn away."

But the shaman stood his ground, even smirked, "I'm with you to the end, sir Baron!"

"For your sake, you'd best hope not," Baron chuckled, then followed the guard through the open door, the others following close behind.

Cu-clang cu-clang cu-clang cu-clang again the sound of walking boots pattered down the hallway and, Tormuj noted, the sounds of painful screaming and crying slowly grew louder and louder. The group marched on, often passing by holding cells, and the dirty arms and hands of prisoners reaching past the steel bars, begging and pleading. Many of the spaces were cramped, with ten people in a cell meant for perhaps five or six, and each voice begging for food or water. Tormuj could only watch with a sick feeling as the prisoners were forcefully shoved back into the filthy, cramped cells, and neither male nor female were spared the occasional butt-end of a rifle or pistol. The Baron, ever stoic and indifferent, only marched on, eyes always looking straight ahead.

"Monstrous..." Tormuj muttered to himself, green eyes looking left and right to the poor souls trapped here, beneath the cold earth.

"Did you say something, foreigner?" Devlynn asked coldly, but never broke stride.

"Nothing, sir Baron," Tormuj replied, a dark undertone in his voice.

The Baron chuckled his usual fashion, "I take it you're not impressed?"

Tormuj fumed then, "War is one thing, sir Baron, but this? This is atrocious! Cruel, even for the Brotherhood!"

Only then did the Baron halt, wheeling around on the heel of his boot; behind the two, a pair of militants raised their rifles at the back of the shaman's head. Devlynn spoke then, calm, collected, and heartlessly,

"Now you listen well, savage. I do not know, nor do I care to know how warfare is conducted where you're from. Nor do I know, nor care how the silver-haired man went about his ways, but there is a new world order on the way, and like it or not, this is the reality of it. And if you cannot stomach that, I'm sure these fine gentlemen here have no problems putting a bullet or ten into you."

At his sides, Tormuj's fists clenched tightly, looking first over his right shoulder, and then his left at the two guards. He was sure he could kill them easily enough, but what would the consequences be? Would he be able to escape this place in one piece, or alive?

"Well, savage," Devlynn spoke, tapping his cane once on the hard floor to produce a loud clack! "What shall it be?"

Tormuj quickly weighed his chances, and slowly relaxed his stance. He knew that, were he to escape, he could never explain to Reij why his right-hand man, the Baron, suddenly went missing.

"The good Baron has much to teach this one, I fear!" Tormuj finally said, forcing a smile and a neutral tone to his voice, "This one is still quite unaccustomed to other's ways of war!"

"Yes, well," The Baron huffed, turning and continuing down the hall as the two guards lowered their rifles, "remember your place, savage."

Tormuj glanced a final time at the last cell, and the dirty and sad faces of those kept within, and walked on.

Soon enough, the group rounded a corner that opened up into yet another square shaped room, though this one sported three doors, as well a large rectangular window that was pitch black within that adjacent room. Unlike the previous room, there were no guards or sentries here, and the painful cries were now a muffled roar, and coming from all around them.

"Welcome to my world, Tormuj," Devlynn said with a cold glee, "it is here you will find the truth you seek of the stories about me. Stand there," and pointed with his cane to the large window.

Tormuj did as such, as Devlynn began to peel off his duster overcoat, next removing the black vest and tie, hanging them on a nearby rack built into the wall, leaning his cane against the wall. The other item upon this rack the Baron removed, a butcher's smock, and quickly threw it over himself and tied it in place. As he began to roll up his sleeves, a shrieking buzz broke the silence, starling Tormuj, and one of the nearby doors flew open. In walked two more flunkies of the Baron, with matching lab coats, as well the skulking creature Ramsey that Tormuj remembered seeing just before they departed from Fort Condor.

Devlynn pulled on white latex gloves, nodding to the newcomers, "I trust the specimens are ready?"

One of the two scientists nodded towards the window, "Fresh from the rack; a couple of them we already took the liberty of preparing for you."

"Ramsey?" Devlynn looked to the hunched over creature,

Ramsey began to twitch and snicker, saliva oozing from his mouth, "Ramsey always ready to help! Ramsey brought master his tools!" And awkwardly removed a leather bag from his neck, which Devlynn accepted.

"Very good, let us see what we can find out," The Baron chuckled, and moved to the door beside the window. He turned to Tormuj, "Watch, and be amazed, savage. If you find you cannot stomach what you're about to see, there's an open vent in the floor over there," And pointed.

Tormuj said nothing, instead watching as the Baron and the creature Ramsey entered through the door and slammed it shut behind them. A moment later, florescent lights flickered to life in that room, and what the shaman saw forced the air from his lungs.

The room was small, but still somewhat spacious, with two operating tables bolted into the floor. Upon each of which was strapped a man, one with pale milky skin, the other swarthy and leathery dark skin. Both of each of their knees had been cleanly sliced from ankle to kneecap, with white towels tucked underneath the legs, and incissors and hemostats clamped to the flesh, which was peeled back to reveal the sinew and muscle beneath. The pale man's side had likewise been sliced to reveal his ribcage, but was quickly stuffed with towels by Ramsey, to prevent the man from bleeding out. Both had been tightly strapped by the arms, legs, chest and waist, and a thick leather belt had been stuffed into their mouths to gag them. When the lights lit up, they seemed to struggle all the more; Tormuj could hear their muffled pleas from an overhead speaker.

"Now now," Tormuj head Devlynn say as he stood over the dark skinned man, "the more you struggle, the faster you'll bleed out." And chuckled darkly.

Tormuj's stomach twisted into a hard knot, looking upon the poor souls, but knew he could do nothing about it. Only then did he notice a third victim, and looked to vomit. Strung up on the ceiling was a woman, her hands tightly bound above her head and hanging by them from a thick hook and chain. She appeared to be of the same origin was Tormuj, with bronze skin and jet black hair; she was completely nude, but otherwise appeared untouched.

"Let us start with you, then," Devlynn said, looking upon the dark-skinned male, removing a long and thick object, resembling an ice pick as well a hammer. "Ramsey, attach the line."

The hunchbacked creature quickly scurried over to a nearby cabinet, wherein he removed a long, thin white hose and a bag. One end of the hose was jammed into this bag, while Ramsey then hopped onto a rolling stool and handed the other end to Devlynn. Devlynn popped the end of the hose with his teeth, and screwed this end into the long pick. The Baron aligned the pick so that it would pierce between the first and second rib.

"This should only hurt until... well, I do something more painful to you." Devlynn smiled.

"Mmffmfmmff!" Tormuj heard the man's muffled voice.

Then Devlynn hammered the end of the pick with the mallet, driving the pointed tool into flesh and bone. The gagged screams happened then, a horrible and awful sound. The inquisitor then tilted the pick, and a flow of blood surged from the thing, down the hose, to quickly fill up the bag.

"Oh dear, that felt like bone," Devlynn sighed, "No matter." Then clicked his tongue. "Ramsey, the sample."

A small vial with a dark green substance was then placed into his already bloodied gloved hand. He drew the liquid out with a small syringe, flicking it with his finger a few times. "Ramsey, remove the pick."

"Good Ramsey always helps!" He snickered, then forcefully ripped the pick free, to invoke still more muffled screams. A moment later, Devlynn jammed the syringe into the open wound, depressing the stopper.

The man then began to convulse and twitch, Devlynn quickly unfastening the gag around his mouth. The cries of pain and choking rang even louder now, Tormuj having to force himself to not cover his ears.

"Quickly, the second sample!" Devlynn said hastily, repeating the motion of drawing out the liquid and jamming it into the same spot.

The dark-skinned man continued to thrash against his table, then suddenly remained silent. A nearby EKG machine began to buzz, showing that the man had flat-lined. Just as quick it began to beep rapidly, and the victim pushed himself upward, his muscles bulging, veins surging throughout his body. He growled an angry, awful sound, with Ramsey and Devlynn stepping back towards the exit door. With a final grunt and a snarl, the straps broke free and the man shot up from the table, with his muscles continuing to grow, and he himself seeming to become larger and larger. Ramsey panicked, and tried desperately to escape the room, but Devlynn could only laugh, and clapped his hands twice to draw attention to himself.

"Whom do you serve, creature?" The Baron asked the still twitching and growing man.

The victim in question turned to the other two; by now he was so large that he was forced to bend forward just to fit in the room, "B...Broth...er...h..."

Then something changed. The man's right arm began to twitch, and began to swell larger and larger, with no other parts of his body doing the same. Instantly he panicked, spinning around and shattering the nearby EKG machine and even the table he had previously been strapped to. The other man could do nothing but watch in horror, until the gargantuan arm slammed down onto him, shattering the table and forcing it (and thus the victim) down into the steel pipe, which gored him through the stomach and killed him instantly. The female chained to the ceiling had long since woken up, and added her own screams to the noise. By now, the monster's arm was much larger than the rest of it's body.

"Calm down, you damn beast!" Devlynn shrieked, and reached for his belt.

But it was too late. A moment later, the arm suddenly, violently burst in a shower of blood, gore, and fragments of bone, which scattered in all directions but somehow narrowly missing both Devlynn and his assistant. On the outside, nearly half of the window had been spattered with gore, and it was difficult to see just what was going on inside. But he heard the Baron heave a sigh, above the even more frantic screams of the sole remaining victim.

"Such a pity," Devlynn sighed, removing his rounded spectacles and wiping blood from them using a nearby rag, "I thought for sure I had found the proper formula this time. All is well, now it is time for fun!"

Tormuj ducked down, trying to see past the blood staining the window, and watched as Devlynn now stood in front of the chained, naked female. She thrashed and tried desperately to move, with her feet dangling a mere inch from the floor, making any form of movement impossible. The bronze-skinned man then watched as the Baron's creature wrapped itself around the woman's legs, clutching them tight together so that she was well and truly helpless.

"Ssshhh," Devlynn cooed, reaching for his belt and removing a small handsaw, "It's okay, my dear. It'll all be over soon. I promise."

Tormuj jerked himself away a moment later, unable to watch anymore, the shrieking cries of the woman following him all the way down the exit corridor, and back to the surface. Things were much worse than he thought.