There was a crowd of people waiting when Vincent set the attack transport down in New Corel. He had explained to Cloud on the way that New Corel was an especially large and prosperous city because it used as its energy source the coal that its inhabitants' ancestors had been digging for generations. As a result, the air above the city was thick and grey, and many of the buildings were coated in a thick layer of black dust, a dark spot on the sandy plain of the continent. Therefore, it was often called the 'Black City.'
Vincent popped the cockpit, and Cloud jumped down to the ground while his friend began securing and powering down the attack transport. "What's the situation here?" he asked.
A uniformed officer stepped forward and saluted. He seemed to be in his late twenties, with a keen look about him. "I take it you're Inquisitors from the Protectorate."
"Yes," Cloud replied. "This is Inquisitor Vincent Valentine, and I'm…" He paused for just a moment, working his mind around the new and unfamiliar title. "Inquisitor Cloud Strife."
"You got our message, then. Great." The policeman looked at Cloud more closely and asked, "Have I seen you before? You're familiar, somehow."
"You might have seen his picture somewhere before," Vincent said, also dropping to the ground. "He's been around. At any rate, officer, tell us what's going on."
"Sir!" The officer held his salute for a second longer and then relaxed. "We've got a major outbreak throughout an entire block. We've managed to seal off the area by restricting all access to the sections of Fifth and Sixth Streets and Wallace and Everett Avenues that touch it. It's in the center of a residential district, so we suspect that there are at least thirty Losts, if not more."
"Have your men hold their positions," Vincent said. "We'll handle this." The officer noticed the large duffel bag that Vincent carried slung across his back, and he nodded, pulled out a walkie-talkie, and began barking orders into it. "Let's go," Vincent said to Cloud.
They headed in the direction the officer indicated, moving as quickly as possible through the crowds of confused and scared people. Vincent took the opportunity to do a scan for potential Losts, but he didn't notice any. He looked over at Cloud and saw that the blonde was doing the same.
"Pick up any potentials?" he asked, just to make sure.
"No," Cloud replied. "Everyone here is fine, as far as I can tell."
The crowds got thicker as they drew closer. People were crowding at the barriers blocking off the streets in question, and the policemen manning the barricades looked nervous but resolute. Vincent scanned the policemen too, relieved when he saw none were infected.
"How long does it take before we can tell with kànderén if someone's infected?" Cloud asked.
"From the time of initial infection to the target beginning to lose its humanity is about an hour," Vincent said. "The block's been sealed off for about four. The fact that we're not seeing any potential Losts is a sign that the police moved swiftly and decisively, which is good." They stopped at the barriers. "I'm Inquisitor Vincent Valentine and this is my partner, Inquisitor Cloud Strife. We're here to contain the outbreak."
"Our message got through, eh?" the head policeman asked. "Thank heaven. Let them pass, boys."
"Losts function pretty much like any other monster you've ever fought," Vincent said to Cloud once they were past the police barrier and inside the infected block. "Cut its head off for a quick resolution. Failing that, cut it to enough ribbons and it'll stop moving. It doesn't really register blood loss in the way we do – it keeps going until it falls over dead, so don't think about crippling it. If you kill one and you're safe for the moment, take thirty seconds to charge up an incineration technique and blast it. If there are more than one, kill all of them, and then burn each of them individually. Never, ever touch a Lost if you can help it. It's just safer that way."
"Got it." Cloud pulled the First Tsurugi from its harness and held it ready. "What about you? Are you…"
"I'm immune, insofar as I have been able to determine," Vincent replied. "After all, the disease works on the human genome, and I don't really have that any longer. Still, I try to be careful." He pulled the duffel bag off of his back and unzipped it. "Go around the perimeter of the block, see if there are any Losts outside that you can take care of. They're probably going to be staying indoors because they hate the sun, but you never know."
"Roger." Cloud began a sweep of the block, walking down the road and looking at the buildings lining it. It was indeed a residential area, with some ten houses all facing out toward the streets. The buildings were constructed around a large, open area; each house had fenced off a piece for a backyard. The houses themselves were unremarkable, one- or two-story constructions of concrete or metal. Looking in through the windows, Cloud could see shadows of movement inside, but he couldn't pinpoint anything that looked like a Lost.
He rounded his third turn and saw Vincent at the far end of the street, back where he had started. Cloud began to walk back toward him, but the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly rose and he whirled to his right when he saw movement in his peripheral vision.
Something that Cloud could only assume was a Lost had clambered up onto the fence bordering one of the corner house's backyards and was staring at him with enormous, soulless eyes. Its body was twisted and mutated and it was bent sharply at the waist so it stood perched on its feet and hands, both of which had grown long black talons. Its large, unhinged jaw had rows of sharp teeth and an enormous tongue that lolled out of the side, dripping black spittle.
Moving incredibly fast for something that seemed so bent and ungainly, the Lost leaped off of the fence, landed ten feet away from Cloud, and rushed at him with a scream that made him want to drop his sword and cover his ears. He forced the pain out of his mind and twisted out of the way of its initial charge, its talons missing him by bare inches. It skidded to a halt and began to shuffle itself around to face him again, but Cloud sidestepped deftly through its guard and brought the First Tsurugi down in a clean blow that severed its head from its shoulders. The Lost collapsed, twitching but clearly dead.
Cloud took a brief look around, made sure there weren't any others that he could see, and took a deep breath to calm himself. The creature was probably the most horrifying thing he had ever seen, even in broad daylight. He didn't want to imagine fighting one or more of these at night.
After he had steadied his nerves, he pointed a finger at the Lost and began to charge up an incinerating blast. The flames grew around his arm, swirling faster and hotter, until Cloud heard another ear-piercing scream right behind him. He whirled, the incineration blast only half-done, and saw another Lost charging him far too fast for him to avoid, ready to take a chunk out of one of his legs.
There was a sound of thunder, and the Lost's head was suddenly gone, replaced with a burst of flame. The body tripped, hit the ground, and skidded to a halt next to the Lost that Cloud had killed. The head was nowhere to be seen until Cloud noticed a smoking hole in the street some dozen feet away. He finished charging the incinerating blast, managed to get both Losts' corpses in it, and moved over to the hole.
Specks of dark red covered the ground all around it, and Cloud knew better than to try to touch or even get near it. He looked toward Vincent and it suddenly became very clear what had made the hole.
The man was carrying an enormous rifle. The gun, if Vincent put its stock against the ground next to him and held the barrel up, would have been longer than his legs. It had a large rubber and metal stock that was as long as his forearm and an impressive barrel that made up the rest of the gun's length. As Vincent walked up to Cloud, he ejected the spent round from the rifle's chamber, pulled the clip out, stuck a new bullet in, and replaced the clip in the gun before pulling the action back again.
"What the hell is that?" Cloud asked.
"A bolt-action Shin-Ra Peacekeeper that fires fifty-caliber rounds," Vincent replied. "It usually comes with a scope, because it was originally a sniper rifle. It can kill at a mile and a half; the Lost I shot off of you was probably about a hundred feet away. Needless to say, I keep it around because it's overkill in a can."
"I noticed. Do I need to incinerate what's left of the Lost's head?"
"You might have had to if I wasn't using incendiary rounds. How's the rest of the block look?"
"Well, I thought that all of the Losts were indoors," Cloud replied. "Seems I was wrong."
Vincent gave him a thin smile. "Don't worry too much about it. Let's –"
He broke off when there was suddenly a massive explosion from what sounded like far off. Both of them snapped their heads around in the direction of the sound and saw a large plume of black smoke beginning to rise from a large, elevated outcropping of rock just outside of the town.
"That would be the coal mine, or at least one of them," Vincent said.
"You think there's been an outbreak there, too?"
"Unlikely, but we can't be too careful. Go and get some information from the police at one of the barricades. They'll know if it was an accident or a work-related mishap; if they have no idea what's going on, it's probably got something to do with our unwelcome guests. If that's true, you head there and take care of it yourself." Vincent hefted the Shin-Ra Peacekeeper meaningfully. "In broad daylight, armed with this and two hundred shots, if I can't handle thirty or so Losts I'm getting soft."
"Understood," Cloud said. "Still, be careful."
"Who just got his life saved?" Vincent asked. "I should be telling you that. Now go."
Cloud hustled back to the barricade through which they'd entered and asked the man in charge, "What's the situation over at that coal mine?"
The policeman, who was holding a walkie-talkie to his ear, held up a hand signaling for Cloud to wait a moment. After a few seconds he lowered the device and answered, "We're getting reports of some kind of incident over there. It's definitely not work-related, and it's definitely not an accident. We're thinking there might be a second outbreak." He looked almost like he was going to be physically ill.
"Keep the populace away from the mine, but don't send anyone in yourself," Cloud instructed the man. "I should be able to handle it on my own."
"If you're sure, then we're not going to argue. I'll relay your orders."
"Thanks. Anybody got a ride?"
One of the policemen tossed him a set of keys. "The silver ones are to my bike," the man said, pointing at a sleek, obviously custom-made motorcycle sitting on the side of the road. "Take good care of her, will you?"
Cloud looked at the bike and felt a sense of nostalgia wash over him. He wondered what might have happened to Fenrir.
"I will," he said before he leaped the barrier, moved to the bike, swung himself onto it, and started her up. The engine roared, and he took off at top speed in the direction of the mine.
Vincent saw a hint of movement through one of the windows of the house to his left and snapped the Peacekeeper around to sight in on it. He could just barely see a Lost far back from the window, staring out through the glass at him.
It started to dodge out of the way, but Vincent pulled the trigger, and the Peacekeeper bucked in his arms, sending a round roughly the size of a pen rocketing straight through the glass and into the Lost's skull, where it exploded into a fiery blaze.
That was the fifth one he'd killed in as many minutes, and that was just by circling the block over and over again, waiting for them to get stupid enough to pop their heads out. Eventually he would have to go in there, hunt down any that remained, and inspect the houses to see if they needed to be burned down to avoid further infection. However, this seemed to be working fine for the time being. He didn't stand to gain anything by taking unnecessary risks.
Then he heard the sounds coming from behind the houses.
They were gruesome sounds – ripping, shrieking, spattering sounds that made even Vincent stop and shudder. There couldn't be anyone left alive for the Losts to kill, not after four hours – and they would be trying to infect anyone they ran into, not kill them. He had to know what was going on.
Vincent gathered himself, took three quick steps and then leaped, managing to get most of the way onto one of the roofs. He pulled himself completely up, repeated the process of replacing the spent round in the clip with a new one – he never knew when he might need all five shots – and then slowly climbed up until he could see the backyards.
He sincerely regretted it the moment he saw what was going on. Some twenty Losts were all gathered in the largest backyard, and they were murdering one another. They were slashing, biting, wrestling, doing everything in their power to slaughter each other. Two of them had already fallen over dead, and more of them were about to give up the ghost. It was an extremely unpleasant sight, but it looked as though they were going to just finish the hard part of his job for him.
Vincent stayed low and watched them until only one was left standing. It was covered in wounds and it was bleeding from most of them, but it howled triumphantly and stomped once or twice on a nearby corpse. He couldn't fathom what was making them do this, considering that Losts generally tended to work together, but it didn't really matter. He sighted in on the survivor's head with the Peacekeeper and began to pull the trigger.
Then a Lost that hadn't been taking part in what he was privately referring to as the bloodsport leaped up on the roof and screamed at him. He rolled away, surprised, swinging the Peacekeeper around to bear on the Lost, and fired. The bullet ripped through its chest and exploded halfway out its back, sending bits and pieces of the creature flying everywhere, much to Vincent's disgust and anger. He managed to avoid most of them, but one wet chunk landed on his cloak and he had to burn yet another hole in it to get the fluids out.
With a growl, he swung the rifle back around to aim at the Lost in the backyard, but he stopped dead in complete horror when he saw what the thing was doing.
It was eating the other Losts.
It was tearing the flesh off of their bones with reckless abandon and lapping up their blood, and it was doing so with astonishing alacrity. In the time it had taken Vincent to shoot the Lost on the roof with him, burn a hole in his cloak, and reacquire the one in the backyard, it had eaten, bones and all, two of its fellows already.
Vincent clamped a hand over his mouth and struggled to keep from vomiting. He had seen some awful things, but this was the worst in a very, very long time. The wet smacking and crunching noises filtering up from the yard were even worse than the sight of the Lost eating, and he fought the bile surging up in his throat. He managed to gather the presence of mind to take careful aim at the Lost's head and fire. It exploded in a burst of flame and the creature dropped dead. Vincent promptly rolled down the roof, leaped down to the ground, and proceeded to throw up water and bile because he hadn't actually eaten anything today.
After a good minute's worth of wretching and trying to keep from getting any of it on his cloak, Vincent wiped at his mouth, took up the Peacekeeper again, and clambered up the eight-foot fence into the adjacent backyard. He walked up to the fence separating him from a mountain of corpses, took a deep breath, and quickly scaled it.
When he was halfway over and ready to jump down into the backyard, he froze as he realized that the Lost he'd shot straight through the head had grown another one.
In fact, it had grown three more of them. All of them were busily eating the corpses of its fellows.
Its torso had bloated until it was several times larger than Vincent's, and where its arms and legs used to be, it had grown large protrusions of bone that served as both claws and legs.
"So that's where you come from," Vincent growled. The Lost he'd fought in Deepground rose to the forefront of his mind; there was no doubt this was how they came to be.
The huge Lost twitched one of its heads around and hissed at Vincent. It grew three more heads before his eyes, all of them focusing on him and making sick, bestial sounds. Without even orienting itself toward him, it charged, claw-legs ripping into the ground and kicking up dust.
"This," Vincent said, leveling the Peacemaker at the monster, "is going to go differently than last time."