Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII is property of Square-Enix. I write this for my own enjoyment, and intend no infrigement or profit.
Hero of the Day
"Feed my brain with your so called standards
Who says that I ain't right
Break away from your common fashion
See through your blurry sight."
- Metallica, "Escape"
Part IX
Cid was ready for anything.
Except having a gun shoved in his face.
He ground his teeth together, his hands instantly flying palm first into the air. "Whoa," he yelped, hastily slapping on a bewildered look, "hold on, hold on! What's the problem? What'd I do?"
The lean man stared at him with one eyebrow arched. He appeared bored. That bothered him. "We have reason to believe members of AVALANCE are in Kalm, attempting a rescue on the traitor." He nodded in the direction of the Item Store; Barret's temporary prison. Cid resisted the urge to strangle him right then and there. "Do you see anybody suspicious?"
The pilot shrugged, his eyes wide with what he hoped looked like disbelief. He stayed out of drama class for a reason. "No, but I'll keep an eye out for ya."
The muscled brunette scrutinized him, his angular face washing over his form. He motioned to the down-turned spear in Cid's fingers. "What's with the weapon?"
He bit back an expletive. Damn. He never was that good of an actor. He motioned to his leg, contorting his face in confusion. "Hurt my leg," he answered incredulously, as if shocked that he would ask such a thing. "Besides, ya know how rough it can be out there. Needed the protection."
The younger man's full lip twitched upward, his thin face transforming from bored to sinister in an instant. He ignored the chill that ran up his spine. He didn't like that look. It was too…confident. "Oh?" he huffed, glancing down to his leg. "Then why weren't you limping?"
The pilot's stomach tightened. Shit, he'd been watching him. Scrambling for an answer, he shook his head indignantly, disheveled blond locks swaying in front of his face. "Look, pal," he started with a hiss, "I don't know what yer problem is, but I'm just here for the show."
The man cocked the double-barreled shotgun, hefting it in a show of force.
Darting his eyes around, he willed the others to stand out from the rest of the crowd. When they didn't, Cid scowled darkly, scrambling for options. He never liked covert situations. He was more apt to just go in and punch somebody instead of having to play cloak and dagger. He was like a fish out of water; this wasn't his style.
The crowd - which had seemingly packed in around him in seconds - began to boo and hiss loudly, objects of various sizes whizzing through the morning air sporadically. He stared past the ragged, huddled masses, coming to focus on Barret, who was led out of his makeshift prison at gunpoint. Chains of all sizes rattled against each other as they tightly bound his arms in front of him, Red slung limply over his broad shoulders.
His smoky eyes scanned the square in growing desperation, acutely aware of the twelve-gauge shotgun aimed in his direction. Intuitively, his grip tightened around the cool metal spear as the seconds ticked by, finding nothing but a sea of dirty, unrecognizable faces. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Barret being ordered to the center of the wooden platform, weapons pointed at him from all sides.
Time was up.
Cid sighed deeply, snorting. "Aw, fuck this," he muttered heatedly, his dark eyes flickering up to his aggressor's dangerously as he brought the lightweight spear to his side. With a skill borne of constant fighting, the pilot wheeled it upward unexpectedly, the glinting blade wrenching the shotgun from the younger man's fingers as it fired in a screaming explosion. Ignoring the scattering crowd, he launched forward, crushing his fist against the side of the man's face with all the force he could muster, knocking him to the ground in a motionless heap.
Gritting his teeth, he charged the plywood stage. He jutted out his shoulder and rammed the nearest lookout in the abdomen. The lanky man reeled into the cobblestone ground with a bounce. Without pause, he turned upon another guard, and jabbed the flat end of the spear into his jaw with a painful crack.
Turning his back to Barret, he grimly noted several men of varying sizes dashing madly towards him from all directions, chains and other weapons dangling from their fingers. He wasn't going to be able to fight everyone in the town off on his own; at least, not without killing a lot of them. While he would've enjoyed putting some of the morons in the crowd out of their misery, he doubted that would improve their reputation. Besides, they'd probably shoot him on sight, and he couldn't help Barret dead.
His eyes narrowed, hunching down in a defensive posture as the smallest two reached him. They wildly swung their thin bike chains. Cid twisted out of the way of their feeble attack, ramming the base into one man's stomach. Flicking his wrist expertly, he slammed the shaft into the side of the other's head. Panting, the pilot instinctively ducked down, a meaty fist hurtling past his ear. That was a lucky miss, he thought, as he deflected the large man's arm, countering with a fist of his own.
The goliath stumbled away, but was replaced by five others, snarling in rage.
"Shit," he hissed, his nostrils flaring as they closed the distance. Moments passed in a blur of motion, lost in a battle-trance. He was snapped back to reality when a fist glanced off of his face, reopening the gash on his forehead with a small spurt of blood. Grimacing, he rolled with the punch, catching himself as the head wound spilled the tiny rivulets of crimson into his eyes. Blinded by the stinging sensation, he struck out wildly with his spear. Miraculously, he managed to block blow after blow as he was slowly pulled from the platform.
His stomach churned in grim dismay, realizing that the only thing keeping him alive was pure luck. Through bleary eyes, he rose his arms to knock away a light aluminum pole. He noticed a moment too late someone coming from behind. Their fist connected with his side, producing a meaty crack.
Time stopped for an instant as fire erupted from his ribcage, swiftly engulfing his entire body.
His luck just ran out.
The pilot's deep blue eyes widened, and he cried out hoarsely, doubling over in pain. Before he could recover, a heavy object slammed painfully against his back, sending him to his knees with a dull thud. Gasping audibly, he glowered up to the men that surrounded him - counting ten in all - as they grinned darkly, each of their faces swollen and bleeding in some way.
One stepped forward, hefting a dented crowbar in his scraped hands, a lopsided smirk on his gaunt face. "One good shot deserves another," he spat snidely, his eyes flashing in malevolence. A jolt of electricity ran its way up his spine, recognizing him as the man who originally threatened him with the shotgun.
Cid's face darkened, summoning up every ounce of hatred he had, and spat up blood-laced phlegm on the man's boots. "Go to hell," he growled heatedly.
His eyes shot down to the murky goo that was oozing off his shoe, his lips twisting in revulsion. Shaking with fury, he returned his gaze to the pilot, snarling, "You first." Without another word, the crowbar made a swift arc toward his head. The last thing Cid saw was a bright flash of white, hearing a distant crack before all went black.
Yuffie's eyes widened, her rounded face paling in fear. Unbeknownst to her, Tifa's hand flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp. She balanced herself on her tiptoes, fighting to see through the crowd in front of her. She craned her neck painfully, watching with no small amount of disgust as two of the men non-chalantly bent over, dragging Cid's limp body to the platform as if he were a net full of dead fish.
One of her captors hissed, whistling lowly. "Damn…that had to hurt," he commented lightly.
Fiercely, she wheeled around, her ivory teeth bared in fury. "Yeah? Let's see how much it'll hurt when I shove my foot up your -"
His eyes flitted over to his partner, and on cue, his weapon rose to the back of Tifa's head, the buxom brunette instantly going stiff.
Seething, the shinobi shut her mouth, turning to face forward. "You know," she started, "when we free Barret, I'm going to kick your ass first. You should consider that an honor."
He snorted humorously. "Yeah. Right after Hell freezes over." The business end of the rifle bit into her back, nudging her forward. "Now, start walking; and don't try anything."
A scowl contorting her face, she slowly made her way through the thick crowd, shutting out the looks and words that they spewed at her. She really wasn't sure what they were trying to do; she was used to degradation. She was Wutainese in Shinra territory, and was stuck on the low rung of the social ladder, forced to endure everyone else walking on her. That didn't mean she had to like it, though.
An old, pot-bellied man shoved her as she passed by him, drunkenly howling, "Wutainese whore!"
Snarling, she kicked her leg out as hard as she could, catching him in the crotch. "Get a breath mint, jerk," she spat angrily, smirking as he crumpled to the ground, whimpering pitifully. Silently, she continued her march, the throng of people hastily shuffling out of her way. Nearing the plywood stage, her ebon eyes fell upon another group being forced to the square, her sore and exhausted body going numb.
Cloud and Rude stumbled forward, several lumbering men following them closely, an array of deadly weapons aimed towards them. She scowled, insulted. "Hmph, I guess they don't think we're a threat," she muttered darkly under her breath. If the muzzle of a rifle hadn't been perched at her head, she would have been sorely tempted to pull a Cid and show them just how wrong they were.
The last remnants of the crowd shuffled out of their way as they steadfastly strode through the loose ring of armed militia, and stopped short of the ramshackle platform. As the remainder of AVALANCE was assembled in a line in front of Barret, she found herself standing a few scant inches from the bloody, beaten form of Cid Highwind. Up close, his wounds appeared less severe than she first thought, but he still looked like he'd been run over by a truck. Several times.
"Ew," she groaned, observing disgustedly that his nose was bent at three separate impossible angles. Her thin lips curled back into a pained sneer, her stomach twisting in revulsion. He was going to be one cranky pilot when he woke up.
If he ever woke up.
The man who had struck the final blow - an average built brunette - smiled at her reaction, his dark eyes dancing with delight. She managed to keep from gagging on her nausea. She decided then that he would be the second person she would come after. And she wasn't going to be nearly as merciful as Cid had originally been. "What are you smiling at, jerk-wad?" she huffed, her onyx eyes burning with a mixture of shock, exhaustion, and annoyance.
He turned to her, a lop-sided smirk on his face. "What; don't like my handiwork?"
She gaped at him, bile rising in her throat. "Your handiwork? You ganged an injured man ten to one and beat him half to death!"
Slowly, a moan wafted from behind her, morphing into a string of slurred expletives. Her eyes widening in growing amazement, her ebon eyes fell upon Cid's as they opened lethargically, a gloved hand quickly flying up to shield them. She shook her head, harrumphing once in wonder. She should've known better than to underestimate his stubbornness.
His fingers made contact with his broken nose, and he hissed, growling, "Goddammit, that hurts!"
The brunette mirrored her expression, adding in a trace of visible disgust. "You're awake already?" he snorted, giving the bloodstained crowbar in his hand a fleeting glance. "What the hell does it take to knock you out?"
"More than a crowbar, apparently," the pilot groaned quietly, his face twisted in a pained sneer. The man's face darkened, and he strode over to Cid's prone form, brutally jamming his foot into his tender side.
Yuffie stood rooted in place as he curled into a ball, his arms wrapped protectively around his midsection as he hacked. "Goddammit, don't ya know that yer not supposed to kick a man when he's down!?"
The brunette kicked him again. This time, in the head.
"Hey, leave him alone!" she shouted, kneeling down next to the writhing blond. "Are you alright?" she asked, her hand lightly falling on his tensed shoulder. He snarled something unintelligible. Knowing him, it was most likely an obscenity. "I'll take that as a 'yes'."
Her raven eyes flickered over him in another cursory check of his condition before they challenged the glare of the guard, who towered over her with a crooked leer. "What the hell is your problem!?"
He snorted in reply, hatred etched plainly on his face. "My 'problem' is that he's still alive. You're lucky I didn't kill him, like I should have. Animals like him don't deserve to live."
Her temper flared at his insults, her wiry body going rigid. "That's funny," she hissed angrily, standing, "because he looks human enough to me. I don't know what the hell is wrong you, but just because he happens to hang around with a group that may or may not have done the crap your psycho friend is claiming, doesn't give you the right to go beat the shit out of him."
He snorted in reply, dismissing her statement. "What do you know about life, brat?"
She bristled, her eye ticking once. "I know enough to not kill someone because I'm too stupid to use my brain and thi -"
Her head suddenly snapped to the side, tasting copper on her tongue. Stunned, her hand gingerly wiped at her split and rapidly swelling lip, gazing at the red smeared over her fingertips. She blinked once, working her jaw momentarily. She then growled audibly, poising her body to attack. "You're gonna pay for that," she hissed threateningly, glowering at him.
He snickered, relishing in his authority. "I doubt a little bitch like you could do anything. You people couldn't do anything to us five years ago."
Oh, hell no. Her jaw muscles rolled underneath her pale skin, her almond eyes churning with pent-up rage. Her mind's eye conjured up several different ways in which she could injure him, and suddenly, she stood erect, smirking. Yuffie could've sworn she saw a trace of fear flicker through his eyes. Her smirk widened at the thought. "I changed her mind," she stated casually. "I'm coming after you first, and by the time I'm done with you, you're gonna nothing be a slimy wad of -"
"Excuse me!"
Startled, both Yuffie and the brunette turned their gazes curiously, watching as the throng's ravenous surging and roaring slowly tapered to silence, looking upon the speaker. "Karter," she spat. Her eyes darkened, the focus of her anger shifting immediately to him. Silently, she vowed that she was going to bring him unbelievable pain before she died, whenever that may have been.
The horde of refugees quieted, all the eyes focused on him as he held his arms out wide in a sweeping gesture, proudly flaunting his current dominance over the team of AVALANCHE. "They're the cause of countless deaths! They've shattered homes, slaughtered families, and even tried to destroy our precious world!" he boomed, his hard-lined features set in determination.
She snorted. "Geez, you could tone down the melodrama a bit, you know," she muttered to herself.
Menacingly, he pointed at Barret, his chiseled lips twisting in a hateful snarl. "Now, it's time for these animals to get what they deserve!"
The crowd burst into riotous applause, clapping and cheering in affirmation.
A low growl erupted from the base of her throat. Yes, he would hurt for this. Immensely.
Karter reached beneath his jacket, pulling out his Shinra-issue .22, gazing at it almost lovingly. She wanted to puke at the hopelessness of the situation. Sure, she supposed that she could tell Cloud and the others to attack at the same time. After all, Tifa once said that only the three of them were able to infiltrate Shinra headquarters (that was swarming with SOLDIERs, no less) and rescue Aeris. These guards, no matter how well armed, were rank amateurs to AVALANCHE.
So, why the hell weren't they doing anything?
"Stop!"
The ninja's gaze focused on a smaller man fighting his way through the dense gathering, forcibly shoving past the wall of guards to stand in front of their impending executioner. "Ah, Cas," Karter cooed, "nice to see you here. I didn't think you'd have the stomach to watch something like this." He loaded a clip into the weapon roughly, checking it over briefly. "Looks like you have some backbone, after all."
Cas shook his head, throwing his hands in the air. "What are you doing, Karter?" he demanded. "You agreed that we would hold a trial!"
He smirked darkly, his loathing for AVALANCE bubbling to the surface. "I lied," he replied, readying the weapon with a metallic chk-chak. The crowd began chanting in Karter's favor, throwing their fists in the air rhythmically.
He steadied his arm, aiming at the hulking figure on the platform. "The first one I'll execute is the rebel leader; Barret."
The color drained from Yuffie's face. This was it. Someone in the crowd cried out, but the words were lost in the morning air.
Snake-fast, Cas shot forward, grabbing Karter's arm and holding it towards the ground in a grip of iron. Yuffie recognized the move, blinking in surprise. She didn't fancy him the type to know martial arts. "You can't just kill him; you don't even know if he did anything!"
Just as quickly, Karter broke out of his grip, shoving him away and pointing the pistol at his head. "Traitor!" He paused, glancing to the silent crowd. She could see the wheels turning in his head, and stiffened in dread. This was going to end up very bad. "Do you know where I saw him last night?" His steel-gray eyes fell on her. She swore. "Conspiring with her!"
The townspeople began whispering amongst themselves, shock rippling through the crowd in waves. Silently, she pleaded for him to stay quiet. "Deny it," she whispered quietly. "Don't say anything."
Defiant, Cas jutted his jaw out, absent-mindedly tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "I spoke with her, yes," he admitted, nodding solemnly. She swore again. "She told me that AVALANCHE was set up."
Karter snorted, his eyes flitting to her, full of hatred. "You believed her?" he hissed. "You're an idiot."
"It's true," Rude stated, his face impassive as he took a confident step forward. "AVALANCE was responsible for neither the attack on Sector Seven or the summoning of Meteor."
Karter's gaze shifted to Rude, sneering. "Oh? Then who was?"
"Shinra was," the Turk stated flatly. Hushed whispers continued to permeate through the thickly packed crowd, mingling with the gentle whistling of the morning wind. "The plan for the destruction of Sector Seven was two-fold. After the pillar fell, they could blame the bombing on AVALANCHE, discrediting them, while the widespread fear and panic would serve to strengthen people's reliance upon Shinra. Furthermore, they chose Sector Seven because they knew that AVALANCHE had ties there, and aimed to destroy all of AVALANCHE in one fell swoop."
If Karter had been at all troubled by Rude's explanation, he didn't show it. "And just how the hell do you know all of this?"
He stared at the burly man coldly. "I know, because I was the one that set the bomb."
Cas' eyes went wide, his face paling. "…Who are you?"
To her surprise, he bent forward slightly in a formal bow. "My name is Masa Aogiri. Formerly known as Rude, of the Turks."
The township fell silent in seconds, the eyes of hundreds focused squarely on the infamous Turk that stood before them. Yuffie hadn't paid attention to the crowd's reaction, though, her mind focusing on his inadvertent admission. "You're Wutainese?" she exclaimed, her rounded face etched in shock.
He ignored her question, continuing to stare down their accuser. "They also weren't responsible for Meteor. They were imprisoned in Junon at the time."
The shinobi's ebon gaze flickered around the spectacle warily. There was far too much tension in the air. Karter glared at the Turk, his strong jaw rolling in aggravation. "I've heard enough of your crazy conspiracy theories. Only a few of the AVALANCHE members were captured in Junon. It's more reasonable to assume that they called Meteor before they arrived." His tanned face twisted into a disbelieving sneer. "And, do you honestly expect me to believe that President Shinra ordered the bombing of his own capital? Mayor Domino would have never allowed it to happen."
Yuffie gaped at the muscular blonde in disbelief. Was he kidding? She wasn't even native to Midgar and knew that Mayor What's-His-Name was a joke. Anyone who had seen them at work knew that. Shinra didn't delegate power. They took it.
Barret glared at Karter, his shoulders tensing. "Say what? You gotta be kiddin' me! Domino was a stupid ass -"
Cloud frowned, sighing wearily. "Believe what you want, but it's true. Besides myself, Tifa, and Barret, the rest of AVALANCHE were killed trying to stop them."
Karter's fingers tightened around the trigger, scowling. "Good."
Yuffie heard the slow ticking of the trigger; the metallic clicks of the gun parts working. Her heart hammered in her chest, blood thumping in her ears as she stood stock still. She couldn't move. She didn't know what to do.
Click. Click.
Her raven eyes darted to Barret and the others, pleading for them to do something. They were the leaders; they were the smart ones, the strong ones, the people that befriended her despite all her stupid pranks and childish antics. They were good people; she wasn't. They had to do something. They had to.
Click.
Why wasn't Barret fighting? Why weren't they doing anything? Briefly, her mind flew into a panic, her insides churning. Barret shouldn't have been there; she should've stood up and defended him while she had the chance. Maybe if she had, they would've listened to her. Maybe if she hadn't gone with the refugee group, all of this could've been avoided. This was her fault. This was all her fault.
Click-click.
She closed her eyes, clenching her fist. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
The sound of a gunshot echoed through the chilled morning air. A child screamed, and was shortly followed by the collective frightened shrieks of others.
"What the HELL!?"
Her eyes flew open. Karter lay on the cobblestone, clutching his freely bleeding arm with a grimace of pain. The crowd was scattering into the houses and corners; they hid in whatever could be used as a shield. The guards held their weapons at the ready with quaking hands, and scanned the area wildly.
"Up there!" The brunette shouted, pointing skyward. "The son of a bitch is up there!"
The teen blinked, turning and peering over her shoulder as the rest followed suit. High on the rooftop stood a man wearing a tattered suit, the sun framing him in a yellow halo. A silver gun gleamed in the morning light, a much larger rifle strapped across his back. Her jaw dropped, utterly speechless.
Barret smiled, chortling quietly. "Well, I'll be damned. Vincent."
To be continued...