AN: Phew! Finally an update. It was finals/graduation this past week so I didn't have a whole lot of time to write. This chapter is also really action heavy, so it was kind of a pain to edit. Hope it's not too boring! Please review, follow, or favorite if you enjoyed. Hopefully I'll have another chapter by the end of the week!
Rhea dipped out of her apartment and glided down the fire escape at the end of the hall. It spit her out in an alley on ground level, slick with falling rain, and she surveyed her surroundings carefully before setting off. She was dressed in all black, hood thrown over her head and hair tucked up tightly so as not to show her most defining feature. She knew the Turks would be on high alert. She had seen the glare of their binoculars in the buildings across the street and sensed their prying eyes on her whenever she left her building.
She'd waited nearly a week for any word from Hydra, and had finally received a cryptic text message instructing her to make her way to the headquarters the next day. In that week, She'd had nothing but time to think, mostly about what Rufus had said to her at their last encounter. She was always astounded by how he could see right through her, past her flesh and bones and into the true intentions that lashed around in her mind. She had tried to hide her double life from him, justifying it by reminding herself that it wasn't ready to be revealed—not yet. But he knew. She was sure of it.
Rhea tried to imagine why he was holding back. Perhaps, beyond his better judgment, he trusted her—believed she would come forward when the time was right. For a while, she thought she might too, but things were getting complicated. Hydra's grand scheme remained closely guarded, and her role in it had yet to be revealed. She had a feeling tonight might be her last chance to escape Hydra's iron clutches before they closed around her for good.
With her head down, Rhea barely noticed the transition from Edge to its slums. In the bright light of the sun and viewed from her balcony, that line was as obvious as night and day. But now, as she found herself winding through the rain-drenched alleys and between rusted shanties, it all became a blur. She had lived here not two months earlier, but even in that time, things had changed. It was not so much different on the surface, but rather in its nuances—the way the wind whistled through empty buildings, a storefront riddled with bullet holes, the soft bumping of a broken shutter against a window frame: all things she wouldn't have noticed back then, but that now seemed to consume and unnerve her.
When she came upon Hydra's barred-up headquarters, she knocked on the steel door (two, one, three—the password had been changed). The peephole slid back and an eye peered down at her. "Were you followed?" said the voice from within. She shook her head.
The peephole slammed closed and in a moment, the door creaked open just wide enough for her to slip through. The guard bolted it back before turning around. "Leader is waiting for you one floor below," he said. Rhea nodded and set off for the stairs.
Her heels clacked on the cold cement of the stairwell, path lit only by a single flickering light on each floor. She descended two landings before coming on a door marked "BASEMENT." She pulled it open and stepped into the dark room beyond. A flashlight was turned on her almost immediately, blinding her. She held her hands to her eyes as its owner approached. When the light was finally lowered, Deimos came into view.
"Glad you could make it," he said in a low voice. "Didn't encounter any rats on way I hope?"
Again, Rhea shook her head, though she wasn't entirely sure if that was true. She'd followed the old runner protocols that Hydra had once taught her: take an unmarked route, double back twice, and enter a building at least once. If the Turks managed to follow her, perhaps they deserved their prize.
Deimos smiled with approval. The gesture filled her with a strange sense of pride. Despite nearly twelve years of separation, she still remembered the old Hydra customs. Suddenly, footsteps approached from the distance, another flashlight bobbing nearby. Cora emerged from the shadows, flanked by two lackeys. She recognized them as the men who had escorted her to the headquarters the first time. One had wild blonde hair that was shaved on one side, and the other wore blacked-out goggles, despite it being pitch-dark inside the basement. They were each carrying black bags slung across their shoulders, though Rhea could only wonder at their contents.
Deimos nodded to them before turning back to Rhea. "Are you ready for your next assignment?" he asked.
"That depends," she replied. "What do I have to do?"
Deimos turned back into the darkness behind him. He shined his flashlight toward the other end of the basement, the ray illuminating a caved-in wall that led into a red-tinted tunnel beyond. "That leads to the old railroad tracks," he began, "and the tracks lead straight into Reactor 3." He turned back and smiled. "We've figured out how to override the system. All we need to do is get inside."
Rhea watched him as he spoke, the sharp edges of his face illuminated by the dim glow of the flashlights. She could tell by the way his lips twitched that he was hiding something. It was dawning on her now that Deimos likely had much more planned for her than just entertaining Rufus and stealing obsolete Shinra files. He had lured her with the promise of something greater, but instead, she'd simply fallen into his trap.
Cora took a step forward, her eyes narrowed at Rhea in the dark. "Are you ready?"
The words sent a shiver down her spine. She concealed it with a deep breath and another curt nod.
"Good," Deimos said. He jerked his head at Cora, who turned and led the two lackeys toward the back of the basement. He then turned to Rhea and smiled again. No pride surged through her this time. He motioned for her to fall in behind the henchmen and, with anxious steps, she obliged.
Rhea followed the pair as they vaulted the rubble of the caved-in wall, dropping down onto the gravel and haggard metal of the train tracks on the other side. Cora was already heading toward the red glow further down the tunnel. Wires hung from the ceiling and some of the support columns were crumbling pitifully. Rhea hurried to follow the henchmen, Deimos close behind. She felt his eyes on her, searching for any sign of unwillingness. She wore her best brave façade, though she knew she was moving closer to a noxious fate with each careful step. Once again, she had backed herself into a corner, and this time she might be forced to claw her way out.
As they walked, Rhea counted the number of red emergency lights they passed. She was in between number fourteen and fifteen when Cora suddenly stopped and walked toward the outer wall of the tunnel. She knelt down beside it and shined her light into a crawlspace that was no wider than the length of her arm. It led downward at a sharp 45-degree angle. She turned to Deimos, who had come to a stop beside Rhea. He nodded his head once. At this, Cora took her flashlight into her mouth and grabbed the top of the crawlspace, guiding herself feet-first into its dark depths. When her head disappeared, the lackeys followed.
Deimos nudged Rhea forward after they had descended. She grasped the pipe that ran along the top of the crawlspace before slipping her legs down into it. She guided herself into the darkness, sounds of bodies shuffling enveloping her ears. The quivering glow of Deimos's flashlight illuminated the half-shaven head of the lackey in front of her, allowing her to see where she was going. Soon, a light appeared at the end of the duct, but Rhea could not see the path of the crawlspace beyond it. She stopped to get her bearings, peering down carefully. The head of the henchman suddenly fell out of sight. She gasped, but heard no sign of panic from below. Deimos's foot landed on her shoulder.
"Go on," he called down. "It's safe."
Rhea took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and released the pipe overhead. She slid down the rest of the crawlspace, the duct over her head disappearing completely. A pipe remained beneath her, acting as a slide to carry her down to ground level. Cora and the henchmen waited for her at the bottom, and she bent her knees to bear the impact that came soon after. With a few running steps, she slowed herself and leveled out, straightening her clothes just as Deimos landed behind her.
As Rhea looked around the huge room they'd landed in, it was not her eyes that were occupied, but rather her nose: it tingled with the familiar scent of Mako, sweet like rotten fruit and misting the air with its green-blue glow. It clung to the pipes, scaffolds, and wires that stretched up out of sight, all rusted and creaking in the darkness. It had only been five years since Midgar was abandoned, but that time had taken its toll. The entire structure looked as though it were ready to cave in on itself, despite its enormous size.
Deimos came to stand beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "We're almost there," he said.
Rhea didn't have the heart to ask what would happen when they arrived at their destination.
Cora and the henchmen led the way across the dark, misty floor. Their lights reflected off the vaporized Mako and made it look thicker than it was. It stung Rhea's eyes as she walked, tears welling up in an attempt to keep out the intrusion. When they reached a small doorway, it opened onto more ducting leading to a series of ladders and pipes. Deimos shined his flashlight into the depths, and Rhea could barely make out the dark silhouette of a catwalk below, suspended over an empty chasm that seemed to have no end. Carefully, the group of them scaled down the pipes and ladders until they reached the catwalk. A single door stood bolted shut beside them, and at the other end lay a huge, vertically-oriented pipe that ran down to into the chasm and up through the darkness above them. Cora led the way to it, and Rhea obediently followed.
Though she couldn't see the source of it, the scent of Mako was strong in this room. It turned her stomach. She was forced to cover her nose and mouth as they walked. None of the others seemed as sensitive to the smell as her. She was failing, and it frightened her.
When they reached the enormous pipe, Rhea saw that it had a large wheel attached to it. Both lackeys moved to stand on either side of it, each pulling in the opposite direction until the wheel began to move, slowly retracting two iron bars from a section of the pipe. When the wheel cranked as far as it would go, an ear-splitting sound echoed through the reactor, and the pipe separated a few feet, slamming into place with a loud thunk.
Rhea turned to look at Deimos, a wild expression growing across his worn features. He looked like a demon in the soft red glow of the emergency beams and harshness of the flashlights. Rhea fell away as he moved passed her, walking to the edge of the pipe that now sat level with the catwalk. He stood for many moments peering down into it, and Rhea barely noticed the lackeys removing their bags and digging through them, too focused on the way Deimos was quivering with zeal.
He turned to her, where she stood with her hand still covering her mouth, eyes watering.
"This is it, Rhea," he said, voice carrying through the stagnant air surrounding them. "Are you ready?"
She froze. The words seemed to fall from his mouth, slithering down his body, across the ground, wrapping around her legs and torso, boring into her ears like a disease. They were the words he so loved to utter to her in the dark those twelve years ago, fingers twitching around a fresh syringe, the sweet, sickly smell clinging to the walls like cancer. They were the words that told her it was time to submit—time to become a slave.
Shame and fear and terror took her, and she lowered her hand. "What do I have to do?"
Deimos approached as the lackeys began pulling on elaborate harnesses and threading them with thick cords. "The reactor has been dormant for a long time," Deimos began. "The Mako has drained into a storage tank that is completely isolated to keep the entire facility from melting down. The only way into that tank is through this pipe, and a system of ducts that feed into it from below."
Rhea averted her eyes only for a moment, watching as a third harness was removed from one of the lackey's bags.
"Your job is to get into that tank and overload the grid keeping the Mako trapped in there," Deimos continued.
"How?"
Deimos chuckled. "Nothing too elaborate." He turned around and held out his hand, into which a lackey placed a small orb no bigger than a low-level piece of Materia. It glowed a faint-blue green, but Rhea noticed it had a pin and handle similar to a grenade. "One of our newest creations," Deimos explained. "All you have to do is pull this pin and toss it into the Mako, and the explosion should force it back into the main tank. It'll flow into the pipes throughout the city and we'll be ready to start harvesting again."
Rhea shivered with doubt. "Why me?" she asked softly, her voice muted by fear.
"Consider it your last initiation," Deimos replied, his lips curled into a cruel smile. "After this, you'll be fully integrated into our ranks. I might even make you third in command."
Rhea bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, pushing away the dread that had crept into her limbs, causing them to quake. She swallowed a thin stream of blood before offering a small, timid nod. Deimos bared his teeth. Behind him, Cora smiled as well.
"Prax, Oster," Deimos barked. The two henchmen stood up straight. "Get her ready." The pair moved toward her swiftly, holding out the harness for her to step in. She did so, and they tightened the straps till she could barely breathe. They hooked carabineers to metal loops on her shoulders and waist, tying knots in the Kevlar cord to attach themselves to her. The one with the goggles strapped the Mako grenade to her shoulder before turning her around and pushing her to the edge of the pipe. She stared down into its dark depths for what seemed like hours before turning back to the group of them. Cora was grinning wildly, rejoicing in Rhea's panic. One of the lackeys threw the excess cord down into the pipe, both of them wrapping their own ends around the railings on either side of the catwalk. After they had secured them to their harnesses, they nodded at Rhea.
With a deep, quivering breath, Rhea pulled the cord taut and stepped off the back of the catwalk, pressing both of her feet into the side of the pipe. She looked over her shoulder, her heart beating wildly up into her throat as she lay suspended over the utter darkness below. She took too more careful steps, the cord slipping through the loops on her harness. She moved her hands down it as she walked, watching as the room above disappeared behind the wall of the pipe. Deimos came to the edge and looked down on her.
"Good," he hissed to her. "The entrance to the overflow tank should be about twenty meters down. Tug on the cord when you've reached it. Tug twice when you've detonated the bomb, and three times when you need to come back up."
Rhea nodded one more time before continuing to rappel down the side of the pipe. With each step, the air grew thicker and sweeter. As the light at the opening grew smaller, her breaths became shallower. She felt as though she were shrinking down to the size of an ant, ready to be squashed by the menacing foot of her own mistakes.
Every few feet, Rhea glanced behind her to see if the entrance to the tank was in sight. A flashlight flickered overhead, blinding her view of the surface but illuminating the walls of the pipe for her. She craned her neck to look downward and spotted a dark opening a few feet below. She dropped down quickly until she was level with it, then tugged once on the cord. With another deep breath, Rhea crouched down against the wall of the pipe and immediately pushed off hard, sending her straight across the pipe, airborne. She flipped in the air and reached for the edge of the duct, just barely grabbing onto it with one hand. She cried out as her body slammed against the side of the pipe, the sound echoing down into the dark depths and high above. Gritting her teeth, she pulled herself into the opening, big enough only for her to crawl.
Rhea looked down at her knees, scraped from the impact of the landing. She ignored the throbbing pain and started down the duct, a soft green glow coming from the end of it. Hurriedly, she crawled toward it, heart still pounding away in her chest. Rust and Mako stung at her knees, but she pressed on until she came to the very edge of it. It stopped abruptly, a sheer drop over the stirring, swirling tank of Mako below. She reached behind her and tugged the cord twice, then pulled off the grenade that had been strapped to her shoulder.
Rhea sat back on her heels and reached to pull the pin. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, knowing she would have to act fast to crawl out of the duct before the Mako surged up and swallowed her. She exhaled sharply before yanking the pin out, and had just coiled her hand back to throw the object when the rusting edge of the duct gave way beneath her. The air shot out of her lungs and she plummeted several feet before the cord snapped taut, stopping her. The live grenade fell out of her hand and tumbled down the side of the tank, landing with a light splash in the Mako that was now no more than thirty feet below her. Frantically, Rhea tried to orient herself, grasping wildly at the cord and pulling it with no regard to timing or frequency. Below her, the sound of a muted explosion rocked the tank, the surface of the Mako splashing around in its wake. With worn hands and aching legs, Rhea pulled herself up against the now trembling walls of the tank, reaching for the collapsed edge of the duct. A siren sounded through the room and the emergency lights flickered wildly, the sound of moving Mako growing ever more prominent.
"Help!" she cried up through the duct, hanging pitifully a few feet below it. "Hurry!" There was too much slack in the cord—she couldn't properly pull herself into the duct no matter how hard she tried. The smell of Mako engulfed her senses and with a cry of fear, Rhea looked down to see waves of it surging up the sides of the tank like hungry animals. Her eyes grew wide, and her fingernails scraped into the rusted metal, desperately trying to save her own skin. The cord suddenly pulled taut, but it was too late. Screaming, Rhea felt the first cold wave of Mako slip around her legs and up to her chin, swallowing her cries. The gush and flow of it ragdolled her up to the ceiling of the tank, scraping her legs and arms and shoulders against the rusted edges of it. Rhea's eyes grew black at the edges as the Mako consumed her, lungs shriveling without oxygen. The cord suddenly pulled her at the waist, sucking her toward the duct which rushed with swelling Mako—much too late. Her head grew heavy and lolled down, eyes slowly falling closed.
In the darkness, the spirits whispered to her, sounding like dripping water amidst a rushing ocean.