The people waited until the helicopter had started and roared to life. After that, they opened their eyes but held longer, waiting for the vehicle's sounds to die again. As the helicopter rose into the air and took off, and then slowly put distance between itself and Neo Junon, the sounds slowly died all together.
Once they did, they at last began to rise.
Reno rolled up from the ground and cracked his neck. "…I think I have a splinter in my ear canal." He griped.
"Ugh…" Elena groaned as she rolled herself up. "Those little things were putting their hooks into me…but that wasn't nearly as bad as the smell of the one that ate them… Ow!" She winced abruptly from one of the cuts. "I'm going to need a whole lot of disinfectant…"
"Later." Reno responded as he cracked his neck and got to his feet. On doing so, and beginning to dust himself off, he cast a glance over to the side. Rude was picking himself up and straightening out his clothing. The Turk cracked a grin at his larger friend.
"Heh…must have been fun for you to throw that fight to that guy."
Rude frowned. "Guy was tough…but he didn't know a damn thing about fighting. I was wondering how long he was going to have to hit me before I could look like I actually was knocked out."
"The amount of times he presented his manhood to you, clear and unprotected, must have been a real temptation." Reno answered with a grin. "At least you didn't have to do something really stupid like me. Make a fool out of myself so the moron can actually get in what could be considered a decent blow. Anyway…you got the tracker?"
Rude reached into his coat, and a moment later pulled out a calculator-sized device. "Ready to go."
Elena, now up, brushed her hair back, crossed her arms, and frowned. "I still think this was a bad idea. We should have taken them out now."
Reno turned to her in reply. "Hey…I always prefer to know the capabilities of my target before knocking it out. And I'm interested in finding out where Dr. Gene Splicer is making the People That Time Forgot."
"But we're putting Krystea in danger." Elena protested.
Reno shrugged. "She's a big girl. She can take care of herself. She sure did two months ago. Besides. We're going to be hot on their heels. The moment they lead us back to their den or lair or tree, whatever suits the critters, we'll take 'em. Add to the fact that they'll probably have their hands full of our surprise guest appearance when he wakes up, and this'll be a cinch." The man turned back to his taller companion at that.
"Helicopter ready?"
"I called it in right after we left." Rude responded. "The next adjacent helipad should have it fueled and prepped."
"Terrific." Reno answered with a grin. "Let's resupply, then head on out."
RULER
Man…talk about a tough case…
Zola thought this as he sighed, and then pressed his face against the ground once again. His long tail flicked out, and once more rolled over the ground, struggling to find some sort of scent. He met with the same result as before, flaring his nostrils and making him retch.
This area was covered with scents. Not only was it a place people frequently went, smudging it up with scents from Cloud, Tifa, General Ragnar, Aerith, and the three young charges under Tifa's care, but now it had the scents of the creatures too. And once again, they smelled like an odd amalgamation of scents that further frustrated the ability to differentiate between them. Then there was the fact that Tifa cooked frequently, filling the air with scents from food. Lastly, and worst of all…the scent of bile and vomit was still heavy on the air, nearly choking the basilisk every time he tried to get a scent.
At last, the man had enough. He rose, covered his nostrils, began to lick his huge tongue along his uniform sleeve in a desperate attempt to get rid of that taste, and walked further away. At this point, he was about a hundred feet from the Seventh Heaven. In his own private investigation, he had started inside the house, trying to find scents. However, his search proved mostly fruitless, because the stenches were far worse in there. Since moving away, it had gotten better, but it still all but smothered his ability to taste the air. He was progressively enlarging a circle he made around the Seventh Heaven, as he licked his tongue against the ground. He hoped he'd eventually be clear enough from the building to no longer notice the scents, and pick up on their trail. So far…no success.
After moving another ten feet, Zola sighed, and threw himself down on all fours again. He popped his bones out for a reptilian posture, making it easier on him. After that, he began the tedious task of walking around and licking the ground. The worst part of this all was that the taste of bile…not to mention the other filth that covered the ground in Midgar…was starting to stick to the roof of his mouth. It was a good thing he made a point of routinely eating like an animal. If he ate like the thin-skinned humans, he long ago would have lost his natural antibodies, and would be getting no less than thirty diseases from doing this…
Just as before, Zola's search was initially fruitless. As he slowly made his way around the building, moving at a painstakingly slow pace, his tongue tasted nothing new. But that stench from the Seventh Heaven was horrid… What in the world had happened in there? It looked enough like a war zone, and Zola's own encounters with the mutants had revealed some surprising abilities. Still, he couldn't fathom how such a creature could live with itself… Of course…he was one to talk. He was licking up the grime of this rotten, garbage/human infested city…
Zola continued to walk on a bit more, moving into the junction of one of the alleys near the building. That was a bad thing. Pretty soon, his radius would start to intersect buildings, making it harder to move. Sighing, and hoping he got lucky, he continued to lick the ground…
As it turned out, luck was on his side.
The bile taste was still very strong…but it had diminished somewhat, and now he was able to taste a multitude of other flavors. Zola hesitated here, freezing as he finally had something. He paused a moment, wondering if he had hit it. He began to move around this area a bit more, spreading his tongue out in a wider circle to try and intercept more scents. As he did so…it began to come in. More distinctive scents…including some that he had experienced two months ago. There were quite a few new ones…but he tasted the same muddled flavor as before. It had to be them. This made him excited. Quickly, he spread out more. This had to be them. Now, he just had to find their path…
Unfortunately…this was where things turned bad. Zola began to go down the alleyway and to either side of it as well. Yet wherever he went…he tasted the same muddled flavor. He tried enlarging his sweep after this…but it didn't matter. He continued to taste the scents. He moved out a bit more, and finally found what he believed to be a cut off on the road, with the path on either side crossing in front of the building. But he also became aware of a fresh trail going down the alley, moving elsewhere. This continued to frustrate him…until, while sweeping around, he finally picked up a more familiar and normal scent. It was that of Ms. Aerith. It was only in the alley.
At this, Zola pulled his tongue back in, and with a frown leaned back and plopped down in a seat. Terrific. He knew what this meant. They had split up. One of them took the trail in the alley, while the others walked through the street elsewhere. This created a dilemma. Perhaps they had some other task ahead of them. They might be going out to do some other devilry. In particular, they probably wanted Aerith's astranged sister… But with two of them breaking off, he wasn't sure if both of them were going, or if one was going back to wherever their base was. If so, then which one was it? And even if they were headed back to base, what then? What would the other group do? They smashed up the Seventh Heaven pretty good…
Zola clenched a hand into a fist and looked from one way to another. Well…he couldn't follow both, so he had to commit himself to one. And he definitely smelled Aerith's signature scent on one trail. If those things had really once been human…then he knew that Aerith was in deep trouble. In the end, he decided that would be the best way to go.
The basilisk began to get off the ground again. He thought about trying to get Ragnar and Cloud here…only to realize he had no idea where they were. Calling them earlier had been no good, and there was no reason to believe it would make a difference now. In the end, he realized he'd have to do it himself.
With that in mind, he aimed his body toward the alley, and extended his tongue again. Like an astranged bloodhound, he began to taste his way forward.
RULER
Hoeng cast another look outside. Scion was at the controls of the helicopter. Malcolm was at the copilot seat. He was currently in the back, looking over their still-unconscious prisoners. She would be coming to sometime after the next hour, but it no longer mattered. He was beginning to recognize where they were.
It was late now, much later than it had been when they left the Northern Continent. It had taken some work to get off with the limited technology they had at hand. Luckily, Hoeng still had his knowledge of codes, and now he had the means to temporarily use the identity of the Turks. Radar didn't show you what type of craft was leaving. All they could see was a helicopter. And with his know-how, it was easy to give them the code that confirmed their identity as a Turk, and then make some story about how there had been a bomb on the helicopter that had touched down, and they were taking it to the ocean where it could detonate safely. It was a bit simplistic, but with the right codes who was the wiser? Since then it had been the long flight back to Midgar.
Now, at last, they were seeing it. Midgar was finally beginning to pass underneath them, in particular a ruined part of the city. They had a harder time getting in now. The PPA and NSA alike were in the area, scouring the skies for enemies. They ended up having to take a rather long way around to avoid potential radar sweeps, adding another half hour to their time frame. Hoeng had been right about one thing…time was definitely not on their side, or his. It had been at least four hours since he had given himself the drug. That left him two to try and finish his work while he still could. It was going to take a while… Thirty minutes just to work their way back to the lab… Fifteen minutes to secure the prisoners… Thirty minutes for prep… Fifteen to warm up the generator… And finally ten minutes to actually run the program. It was going to be close…
The slightest distraction at this point could be disastrous.
That was why Hoeng decided to take this next step.
The man had no idea if the Turks had thought of this, or if they were using it now. But it was going to stop at this point. While the man was unceremoniously dumped in the back, Krystea was fastened into a seat next to him. At this point, he turned to her and unbuckled it. Her body slumped forward and to the ground, back sticking upward.
Hoeng reached down and began to tear into rips already in her suitcoat, ripping it in such a way as to pull it back and off from her body. He ripped against her shirt next, pulling it off and down on her sides. Most of her skin was exposed as a result. Seeing this, Hoeng reached into his pocket again. A moment later, he emerged with a complex pocketknife. He pulled one of the tabs on the sides, and revealed a set of tweezers. After doing this, he pulled out one of the blades of the knife. The sedative would keep Krystea under as he performed this, so he didn't have to worry about her struggling.
Hoeng lowered himself over Krystea's back. He rested his hand on one side of it, and slowly moved it down. His fingers lightly touched the flesh, and felt very carefully until he reached her ribs. After that, he slowly began to trace in between them. He did so for a few moments, feeling in between each one. But in the end…his finger rested on one area in particular. He felt a small, barely detectible lump beneath it.
Immediately, the man dipped his blade down and cut into the area over it. It was only enough to go under the skin, and in an area of that little vascularization only bled a little. He put the knife aside soon after, and then reached into it with the tweezers. He felt around inside for only a moment, before he grabbed something unnaturally hard. He pulled it out at once, and held it up to get a good look at it.
It was a bead-sized, metal device.
Hoeng leaned away from Krystea, putting his hand down as he did to stop the bleeding, while he turned his attention over to the doorway. Without warning, and to the surprise of those flying, he opened the door. A roar of wind flooded the cockpit as the night air began to rush into the cabin. Hoeng winced as the gusts blasted him, but also took the moment to dip the device outside the helicopter. He immediately released it, letting it fall out over the city, and then pulled back and shut the door again.
RULER
"Uh-oh."
Reno raised an eyebrow from his position in the copilot chair. Elena perked up from the back as well, abandoning her wound doctoring for a moment. Both found themselves looking to Rude at the helm of their own stealth helicopter. He had the tracking device mounted at the side of controls, and was watching them as he led the helicopter onward.
"Uh-oh?" Reno echoed. "Uh-oh what?"
"Either Krystea just committed suicide…" Rude answered. "Or they found the tracking device and threw it out."
Elena looked up at this. "Found it? What do you mean 'found it'?" She asked incredulously. "We're the only ones who even know we have them. And it's surgically implanted. Was that freak actually carving her up in the helicopter…?"
Reno ignored this, and turned back to Rude. "You still have them on radar, right?"
The man gave a nod.
"Then that'll have to do." The Turk answered. "On landing, we'll just have to follow from a distance as best we can."
RULER
As Ragnar walked along, he felt himself craving not only caffeine but headache medicine. He definitely had one now, and he wasn't feeling that good in the rest of his body either. He really shouldn't have been out searching. He wasn't in good shape for it. Yet he couldn't just sit on the sidelines now. He forced himself to swallow it back, ignore how warm he was starting to feel, and kept himself going.
Ragnar and Cloud were finally reentering their lobby, after hours of a fruitless search that had yielded nothing but angry hotel staff. They had been everywhere in this hotel, first scouring the first floor and every single area that said "employees only" in it, and then eventually moving up into the upper floors as well. Every panel, every grating, and every other area that looked big enough for something to fit through was checked. Walls were knocked on, ceiling coverings were moved, and all of the restrooms were scoured, both female and male. Needless to say, their behavior had attracted the chagrin of the guests, and they in turn called the staff, which came and asked them to leave more than once. However, when Cloud acted like he didn't even hear them, they soon backed away. After all, the local staff wasn't going to actually put their hands on the bloody, torn duo, and they were unable to call the police in the din that followed the battle. In the end, they were forced to deal with them.
Now it was two past midnight, and Ragnar was getting exhausted. His thoughts were getting more muddled, and he felt a bit wobbly on his feet. Even if he did see something that stood out, he was beginning to wonder if he had the brain power to make any deductions or insight regarding it. It sure didn't appear that he had. He had wasted hours of his life searching this place and had nothing to show for it. Who knew what had happened to Aerith since then?
This pamphlet has to have some significance…
The two men passed by the first lounge area, and began to go to where the front desk was. There was a gathering of staff there now, talking to each other. No doubt, they were murmuring about the PPA types coming in and combing their hotel from top to bottom. It probably left them a little upset, or worried. Yet as they came out and noticed them, they immediately ceased their chatter and began to break up. The head at the desk turned to them with a somewhat tired look.
"…Finished?" He asked in a somewhat sardonic manner.
Cloud cast him a dark look, but then turned and kept walking. Ragnar gave a tired nod after a moment. "Yeah. We're done. Sorry about the trouble."
The man didn't answer that with the customary, "oh, it was no trouble at all" bit. After all, it had been quite a bit of trouble. Ragnar was pretty sure that they were never going to be allowed to stay here, and that they were probably memorizing their faces to make sure they didn't try. He did reach underneath his desk after this, and emerged with a small bin filled with objects. He put this on top.
"You'll be wanting your keys, I assume."
Ragnar and Cloud both stopped at that, and turned to the man in puzzlement.
"…I thought there was a valet out there who had them."
"There was…until one in the morning." The desk attendant answered. "After that, valet and doorman service is done for the night. Our times are clearly listed."
Cloud formed a somewhat sour look, but then walked forward to the bin. Once he was at the desk, he freely dipped his hand in and began to unceremoniously throw things out of it onto the desk, not seeming to care whether or not it scratched it. Ragnar rolled his eyes and groaned, and the attendant opened his mouth a moment, before realizing it was useless and shutting it again. Finally, Cloud had his keys again, and then turned away and back to Ragnar. The youth sighed, but then turned and walked with him out the rest of the way. The attendant muttered something behind them, but he never heard it. Both of them were soon passing through the doors, and back out into the night.
It was warm even now. Bugs were beginning to come out, attracted to the plants they kept outside the entrance, and buzzing around the lights of the carport. Fenrir was still there, although it now bore a few tickets. In the end, it appeared that was the only response that the staff had been able to give them. Cloud sighed as he saw them, and on arriving at the bike promptly yanked them off and tore them in half. Ragnar, on his part, slowly exhaled and came to a stop a bit farther away. He placed his hands on his hips and looked out ahead, toward all of the construction projects that faced this part of the hotel.
"We should start checking the perimeter." Cloud stated at last. "See if any of the sewer lines near the hotel connect to it."
Ragnar groaned, feeling sick again. "…That could take hours."
"We have no choice."
"We may never find anything…"
Cloud sighed himself at this, rolling his eyes. He turned around and faced the youth again at this. "Look…are you sure this is the right hotel?"
Ragnar frowned. "Come on, Cloud…" He grumbled as he began to reach into his pocket. "You think I would have spent all this time pushing up ceiling panels and trying to rip off grates if I didn't know this was the right one?" A moment later, he yanked out the wrinkled pamphlet, and waved it in the man's face. "Right here. Clear as crystal." He said in a somewhat annoyed voice. He pulled it back a moment later, and looked down at it as he opened it and began to flip through. "Look. It even has the valet times, just like the man said. Over at 0100. Doorman up again at 0600. Valet starts at 1000, and all the various breaks and times in between."
Cloud clenched his teeth and balled his hands into fists again. He turned around and began to pace, starting to get irritable once more. Ragnar continued to tiredly flip through the pamphlet. At last, the ex-mercenary hissed.
"Damnit…I hate this! We're looking for a needle in a damn haystack! This has probably been the biggest waste of time I've ever done! I'd probably be better off trying to find the entrance just like Vincent was…"
Ragnar frowned again, but didn't answer. He sighed, blinked back a stab of pain from his headache, and flipped again through the pamphlet. Groaning, he looked up from it again and over to the construction area. His eyes darted over it, seeing one part where the road had been freshly tarred. He looked back down after that…
And suddenly froze. His eyes began to widen as a moment of insight hit him. He suddenly looked back up to the area of the road being worked on, and then looked back down to the pamphlet. He flipped back a page, back to the valet and doorman times. As he did, he began to read off again.
"…No valet or doorman from 1200 to 1500… Doorman at 1500… Gap at 1700 to 1900… Valet and doorman from 1900 until 0100…"
Cloud turned around and looked to Ragnar at this, his face still annoyed. "What are you talking about?"
Ragnar looked up again, and then looked back down to the pamphlet. He read it again…and then finally spoke.
"…That's it."
Cloud formed a puzzled look. "What's it?"
Ragnar looked up again for a moment…and then suddenly began to walk forward. He shoved the pamphlet back into his pocket as he did so. Cloud stared at him doing this, before snapping out of it and quickly moving in next to him. His face was still confused, and he called out more loudly.
"Kid? What's it?"
"I found out why that pamphlet is significant." Ragnar answered, still walking forward, moving out from under the carport and headed down the driveway.
"Why?"
"These people…whoever they are, they dress in rags and old clothing. They're trying to hide themselves, but they also want to look like bums…homeless…transients… You know, inconspicuous. People will look right over them. Think they're just some other person on the street."
"Yeah. So?"
"Think about it. People who just come to a hotel are from out of town or just visiting. They see a homeless guy hanging around somewhere or poking around in some area, and they'll think he's just looking for something to sell or something to eat. But if you see the same guy there day after day, and it's always the same thing, then you may start suspecting something. At the very least, you'd say he was trying to make residence somewhere he didn't belong. And in front of a ritzy place like this, they already have enough of an image problem with the front of the building. They don't need other people fouling the place up."
"Alright, so our perpetraitors don't want to be seen going in and out from their entrance." Cloud answered. "So what? What does it have to do with the pamphlet?"
"First of all, they probably have more than one entrance. They just use this one more frequently." Ragnar answered. "Second of all, it doesn't have anything to do with the pamphlet. It has to do with the schedules inside the pamphlet. The guests wouldn't suspect anything out of the ordinary. The only people who would be left would be the construction companies and the hotel staff. But the only hotel staff people who are outside regularly are the doorman and the valet. If they were within visual range of the hotel, but couldn't necessarily see who was in front of it, they would have to know when the doorman and valet were outside. That's why they needed this schedule. To tell when they could move."
Cloud walked on a bit farther, thinking of this. By now, they were beginning to move out of the driveway and into the street. They were approaching the construction area, in particular the road work. In the end, Cloud shook his head. "But this doesn't make sense to me. If they wanted so bad to avoid detection, then why come out here at all?"
"This might be their closest entrance to the Seventh Heaven." Ragnar answered. "But more importantly, I think they didn't do this on purpose. They started with this and were constrained by the pathway somehow. This hotel wasn't erected that long ago. Once it was built, they found themselves faced with a new opportunity to be spotted right in front of them. They had to adjust to keep using it, but for some reason or another they had to keep using it. Maybe it makes them avoid a major metropolitan area. Maybe it gets them around us. Whatever it was…it was something that forced them to keep coming out of here no matter what happened…even if the area around it was freshly tarred."
Cloud looked up a bit at this, still confused. "Freshly tarred…?" He asked aloud. A moment later, however, his eyes widened slightly as insight struck him as well.
"…The black gunk on the bottom of the shoe…"
"I can still smell this stuff." Ragnar continued as he walked on, still nearing the road work area. A lot of it was zoned off, but he passed right through the barricades and kept walking. There was a lot of heavy equipment and piles of gravel in the area, as well as numerous holes and rifts. All of it was under the shadow of a building being constructed nearby. But what Ragnar was looking for was something more specific, as he led Cloud on, weaving his way around gravel bits and tools. "This was fresh this morning. That's why the owl one got it on her boot. My guess is, we'll find an imprint to match that boot…right about…here."
Ragnar came to a halt abruptly. Cloud walked up to his side, and stopped as well. Now, the two men were right on the tarred area. Both of them could distinctly smell the chemicals at this point. Most importantly, however, was what Ragnar was pointing to, just on the edge of the tarred area. There were various footprints dotting the tar. Some of them were probably from workmen. However, there was one that stuck out like a sore thumb…one that had grooves on the bottom from various shoes melded into one oddly-shaped shoe. There was little doubt as to who owned that.
Ragnar continued to move his finger up, pointing back from the direction the foot had come. Cloud followed it…and soon they saw something else. The new tar was spread around on the existing street, enclosing a manhole cover. If someone had come out of it, they would have been forced to take one step on the tar in order to get to cleaner ground…
Immediately, they understood.
Cloud and Ragnar looked to each other a moment, but then turned back to the lid. Cloud reached behind him and removed Horizon from the larger sword, and then brought it forward and pried it into the hole where a crowbar would normally fit. He pried only long enough for it to come off, and then Ragnar moved down and grabbed it. While Cloud replaced the sword, Ragnar pushed the lid off the rest of the way. After doing so, he dipped his legs into the manhole and began to climb down.
"Shouldn't we get a light first?" Cloud asked.
"I don't think so. If they've really been using this, they've probably kept it illuminated."
Cloud didn't argue with that. And so, he waited until Ragnar was making some headway into the ground, and then turned himself over the edge and began to descend with him.
Ragnar's suspicions turned out to be correct. As he lowered himself down the hole, he began to detect a faint glow from underneath him. It was steady and pale, seeming to be from a light bulb of sorts. He continued to descend, until he finally emerged from the manhole tunnel. His feet touched down on cement, and he immediately released and stepped away. Cloud was right behind him, and soon he landed as well. He turned, and the two men looked at their new area.
On one side was a cement wall, obviously blocking off any further access. It looked as if the manhole they had just come down was the only general access area to this point, confirming Ragnar's deduction. Now, they were in some long subterranean corridor. It spread out fairly wide, easily allowing people of considerable size to move through, or even a crowd of individuals. You could almost fit a large truck in here. Most of it was dark, but as Ragnar had deduced a few pale lights were on that were normally used for service. In addition, there were breaks in the ceiling of this area that extended up about ten more feet periodically. Ragnar could only see one from where he was, but he could make out a silhouette of grating. It appeared that corridors like this in Midgar were the storm sewers. When walking down the street, one crossed them all the time, and could look down and see this area far below when they did so.
Ragnar frowned at the thought. Of course…it was so simple. This was how they were able to spy on them. Dressed like derelects and hanging out in underground levels like this…they'd know everything they did and hear everything they said. Ragnar wondered why he hadn't thought of it earlier…
"So now what?" Cloud asked at last.
"Now, I guess we follow this and try to see which way they went." Ragnar answered.
"That may be a bit hard." The ex-mercenary darkly answered. "Look over there."
Cloud pointed to the wall. Ragnar turned as well, and soon shared Cloud's dark sentiments. There were access tunnels out of this area, probably used for drainage during a storm. Each one was a grating along the wall to their side, arranged periodically down the corridor and big enough for a large person to crawl through if they were open. However…what was bad was that there were a lot of them. Ragnar soon realized that there was one every five feet. As he looked from where he was down the corridor, his gaze only continued to see more and more as the line went into oblivion. There had to be at least fifty from where he could see.
If that wasn't enough, each one of these had one of the newer locks on them. Rufus had ordered these put in during his time in office. The lock itself was mounted into the new grates, which controlled a series of pistons that put out various bolts into the rim around the grate. The grates were made of magnetically aligned steel, with the ions arranged to be in their most attractive position. In this way, even an atom edge would have a hard time cutting through without the proper application of a large amount of strength. It would take ten minutes to cut through one. And now, they had hundreds to check…
"It would take us forever to figure out which one is the right one." Cloud sighed. "We've already lost too much time."
Ragnar frowned, and looked over this latest dilemma. Cloud was right. They couldn't waste much time here. They needed to get moving and find Aerith before it was too late. But which one was it? The creatures probably had memorized which one, but where did that leave them? They wouldn't recognize any special sign or gesture that the things would to know which one was correct…
However…as Ragnar thought a bit harder about that, he realized that may not be entirely true. Suddenly, he took off down the tunnel.
Cloud snapped his head to this. "Wh…What now?"
"I think I know where to find the right grate. Follow me!"
Cloud only paused a moment, but then took off after the youth. As for Ragnar, he soon was running down the length of the corridor, but also keeping his eyes on the ground. He scanned both it and the grates on the sides, looking for something in particular. In this initial area there was nothing, and judging by the top level there wouldn't be for a while. And so, he ran further down the length of this tunnel.
Both Cloud and Ragnar were proven correct as they ran on. Not only were there no ladders to any more manholes, but there were hundreds of grates. So the enemy was indeed constrained to that one entrance, but at the same time found hundreds of opportunities to go into the sublevels. Ragnar had to run for a few blocks. He didn't enjoy it. It made his head pound, and his body was already getting tired from having spent all day battling. He kept feeling sick, either from growing hunger or nausea. He wasn't exactly sure how much good he would be when they finally found Aerith…but he had to try. He couldn't stop here.
The two ran on for a considerable distance, and Ragnar was beginning to fear that they wouldn't find it at all. They must have left the construction area far behind, and based on what was overhead they had to have gone well into the older parts of Midgar. However, at long last…something caught Ragnar's eye. Seeing this, he continued to run until he reached it, but then came to a halt. Cloud, not yet seeing it, came in to a stop behind him.
The two men looked at the area in front of them. They were just before one of the grates. But more importantly, they were just before one of the overhead gratings that formed the streets of Midgar. This was definitely in the ruined portion of town, in particular the old industries. Even now, some sort of chemical residue was dripping into the storm sewer through the bars, leaving a pale sedmentation in its wake.
"I think this is the one." Ragnar announced.
"How can you tell?" Cloud answered.
"Remember the hood of the owl creature?" Ragnar answered. "I thought it would be dumb to just stand around and let birds do their business on you. But what if it wasn't birds at all? What if it was something like this…a chemical runoff? And every time you came out you happened to get some on you by accident, because you had to come out in the same spot?"
Cloud looked at the runoff after hearing that. He looked down to the ground where it was landing. Sure enough, it formed a pale residue on the ground, remarkably similar to what you would expect around a statue. He supposed it might be right…but…
"It's a possibility, but there's tons of chemical runoff areas in this city." Cloud answered doubtfully. "How can we tell it's the right one?"
Ragnar reached into his pocket at that, and a moment later emerged with the packet of gum.
"With this."
This further confused the ex-mercenary. However, Ragnar turned around and looked to him, holding the open pack out. As he did, he began to reach into the packet and pull out sticks, and started to unwrap them.
"The biggest thing that confused me about the gum pack was why, if this was an owl, it would have it at all." Ragnar explained. "Owls don't have jaws or teeth for chewing like humans do. I thought maybe it could have some other significance. Now…I think I may have found it."
Ragnar revealed a piece of gum with his first unwrap, and threw it to the ground. The same with the second piece. But on the third piece…he revealed something else. It was a sliver of metal, lobed in many unusual ways. Cloud saw this as well, and both of them realized it. This was one of the new keys for these grates. They operated like barcode scanners as well as tumbler unlockers. It was just about gum stick shaped, and if you dropped the pack somewhere, likely it would be dismissed as some other piece of trash without ever unwrapping it.
Ragnar pulled the key out and threw the rest of the wrapper aside. Next, he turned to the grate. After making his way forward, minding to not get the chemical runoff on himself as he approached, he bent down next to it and lowered the key to the lock. It went in smoothly, and he gave it a turn.
The grate clicked as all of its pistons rotated back, and it was unlocked.
Ragnar turned back to Cloud with a smile. The ex-mercenary couldn't help but crack a grin as well.
"Remind me to call you next time Marlene loses a hair braid."
RULER
Having finally touched down, Rude quickly turned off the engine. As he powered down the rest of the helicopter, Reno and Elena sprung into action. Armed again with their weapons of choice, they opened the door on either side of the helicopter and leapt out. Rude, after finishing up with his task, paused only to reach over to grab a black "tote bag" of equipment before coming out as well. The three remaining Turks soon emerged into the night of Midgar.
Just as Reno suspected, this was in the abandoned part of the city. Typical, after all. Rude's radar had led them straight and true to the proper area. Their own high-tech helicopter was parked right next to the old one. It had been stopped right in a rubble-filled neighborhood, just outside the foundation of a small, ceilingless building in front of them. They had been forced to hang back until the enemy had abandoned the area, unfortunately. After all, they didn't want to alert them to have their friends escape before they could trap them in their own lair. But once they were gone, they moved in and landed.
It was strange. They didn't seem to be nearly as careful as they were last time. They removed all the signs of themselves that they could in their previous encounter. Now they didn't seem to care whether or not people saw this helicopter sticking out like a sore thumb. Reno didn't know why they had this change of heart, but he didn't really care either. His main concern was busting up their place. It was their loss. He just hoped his hangover would hold off a bit longer…
As the three neared, they saw that the building was wide open ahead, busted down from the destruction of four years ago. You couldn't see much inside of it. However, that soon changed. While they approached, Rude reached into his tote bag and emerged with a black flashlight. He turned it on and shone it ahead. Again, they didn't see much. The building was gutted for the most part. Nothing was left but cement bricks and metal girders. However…there was one thing in particular that immediately caught their eye.
An industrial elevator was toward the back. It was a totally enclosed one, but it was big enough to have been used for moving heavy equipment in the past to some sub level. Based on the structure of the building and the type of elevator, it was reasonable to assume that this had once been an overhead access area to the sub-sewers. If so, that made it a perfect candidate for your standard "secret lair", in Reno's opinion.
The Turks passed the threshold and began to close on the elevator. As they did, Rude's flashlight beam shrank, and zeroed in on a particular item near the closed elevator doors. It was some sort of more modern and higher-tech keypad. Evidently, Hoeng had the foresight to install it, to keep intruders from using his elevator.
On that thought, however, Reno felt himself unnerved again. Something about that man looked familiar…but he couldn't think of what. And why had he reacted so strongly to the idea of killing them? Was this some sort of curse for anyone who went to the Northern Continent? They couldn't bring themselves to kill their enemies?
At any rate, Rude was soon across from the keypad. Once there, he turned and passed the flashlight to Elena. She took it, leaving him to go back to the device. He once again reached into his tote bag, and moments later pulled out a graphing calculator-sized machine. While holding it in one hand, he opened the top, and pulled out two arrays of some sort that looked like small magnets or sensors of some kind. They were attached to wires. Rude took one and plugged it on the machine. The other one he took beneath it, and began to plug into another area…
However, to his surprise as well as the others, an electrical burning sound immediately went off. A sizzling was heard, and a second later the calculator device gave a pop. Rude shrank back as the screen on his device cracked, and smoke began to come from it. The three Turks, confused, stared at it a moment. But then, Rude gave a frown and began to pull the wires off of the keypad.
"Run into a snag?" Reno asked.
"This Hoeng guy is pretty clever." Rude answered. "He used a high current in the keypad. It burned out the resistors in the decoder. He was obviously expecting us to try this."
Elena frowned. "Well now what?"
Rude put the decoder back into the back, and emerged with a small box instead. When he stood up and opened it, he revealed a small set of tools within.
"I'll have to pry this open…try to find a way to reroute a transformer in there so I can decode it." Rude answered.
"How long will that take?" Reno asked.
Rude shrugged. "…No way to know."
Reno frowned, but knew there was nothing he could do about it. He sighed.
"Well, just do the best you can. I think I'll head back to the helicopter for another headache pill so long as we're waiting…"
RULER
It's about time…
Zola thought this as he finally stood up from his search. He was a bit sore now, and he had half a mind to cut off his tongue and replace it with a new one via regeneration. It felt like a week old hot dog by now. His tracking had taken him rather far away from the Seventh Heaven. The trail had become clearer the farther away he went from the horrible taste, but it was still quite a ways away. And the enemy had moved into every trash-laden, scummy alleyway and abandoned building they could find to hide themselves, and through every disgusting thing Zola knew could exist in a city.
But at last, Zola believed he had made it. Here he was, in some underground storm sewer. He had followed the trail all the way to one of the grates on the sides. It was a good thing he had his sense of taste. Otherwise, he never would have been able to find the right one. He only wished that it hadn't gone through some strange white chemical in the process…which he had run his tongue through. Still, he believed this was the right one. Out of all the grates in here, it was the only one that was open. Furthermore, while coming along, he had picked up the tastes of Cloud and Ragnar. This has to be where they were.
However, now that he was here, the basilisk paused a moment. The part of the trail that was Cloud and Ragnar was only about ten minutes old. That meant they couldn't have gone in too long ago. He knew that both of those humans were very durable and powerful. It was likely that they wouldn't need his assistance at all.
But then again…this was an opportunity to prove himself anew. And besides…he knew these things. The Generals didn't necessarily. He did have a grudge to end with some of them. Besides…they could always use another sword arm. And he had gone to all this trouble of tracking them down in the first place…
At last, the basilisk decided. He was going to go in after them. But first…there was one thing he had to make sure of.
The man reached for his radio and brought it up to his mouth. After adjusting it to find the proper channel for the group he needed to call, he turned it on and spoke into it.
"This is Corporal Zola. I'm reporting an enemy infiltration."
RULER
The metal door slowly swung open. On doing so, Nimrod, Clive, Serena, and Gelon all snapped their heads up. They had been waiting in here for some time, but now at last they were back.
Sure enough, as the door swung to one side, in walked Dr. Hoeng. Following him close behind were Malcolm and Scion. Scion had the dark suited woman in his arms, and appeared to be struggling a little. However…Malcolm had some strange, dark-haired, one-armed man in his grip. These five entered. After they did, the four already in there formed puzzled looks. They began to look back and out into the pipe and conduit lined corridor behind them, but saw nothing. Once both were in, Hoeng turned and pushed the door shut again.
"Where are Mortimer, Slim, and Martel?" Clive asked after a moment.
Scion pulled back his hood, revealing his own bizarre face to this gathering. It was downcast and sad, and he bowed his head solemnly.
"…They didn't make it. We eight in this facility are the only ones left."
Serena, normally furious and fierce, gasped and held one of her velvety arms to her face. Gelon quivered. Nimrod bowed his head and began to moan. The sadness soon spread to the rest of them, and all of them stood still and silently for a moment. However…Hoeng didn't tolerate this very well. Once he saw them all stopping, he turned and gave them a look over. He frowned in the end.
"Alright…enough wasting time." He finally stated. "You still have your jobs to do."
However, as Hoeng went about ordering them as he always did…some of them kept their heads down. They continued to look sad and disheartened. They had made it this far…but so many of their comrades had fallen. So many had died…all for this goal of reaching today. All for this…despicable man. And as he went about regarding them as so little…some of them began to react to this. Nimrod, in particular, slowly began to raise his head. His eyes, still shrouded under his hood, were focused on Hoeng as he did so.
"Lock him up." Hoeng went on, gesturing to the dark haired man. "Take her and prep her the same as Aerith. We will start right away."
"…No."
The others looked up at this, and over to who had spoken. They found themselves staring at Nimrod. He had stood up straight again, letting his massive size fill the entire corridor. He was glaring down at the much smaller Hoeng. The scientist slowly turned at that, and looked up to him. His own face turned dark when he heard Nimrod say that, and he didn't look happy.
"…No?"
"We already did what you wanted." Nimrod spat. "We lost all our friends trying to get these women for your damn experiment. You said you'd change us back once we brought them here. So do it."
"After the experiment is over." Hoeng simply answered. "Not before."
Pound.
The others recoiled sharply. Abruptly, Nimrod's huge fist had swung forward, and had impacted the wall an inch from Hoeng's head. The result was a massive indentation in the pipes, and steam began to leak from them, some brushing over Hoeng's face. The scientist, in response, looked rather dark. He didn't shift at all when the punch fell. He merely glared back at Nimrod.
"To hell with your experiment!"
Everyone went deathly silent. The others stared wide eyed at Nimrod as he heaved and fumed, frozen in that threatening position. Gelon moved in to Nimrod's side. He was about to put his hands on him…but then quickly stopped, knowing what would result. Instead, he talked pleadingly.
"Nimrod…don't. You kill him, we're stuck like this…"
"I want him to fix us now!" Nimrod snapped, half to Gelon and half to Hoeng. "We've bent over backward for him! We've killed and bled! My body is filled with bullets from being shot so many times! We've done everything he's asked and more! I want to be changed back right now! And if you don't…" Nimrod paused a moment at this…but then finally spat out.
"I'll smash your machine!"
To this, the others immediately paled and came in.
"No, Nimrod!"
"You idiot! You'll ruin us!"
"I'll ruin his experiment too!" Nimrod retorted. "And I know he cares about that! Maybe he'd like to lose something he cares about for once!"
Hoeng didn't react to any of this. He stayed perfectly dark and calm throughout. Nimrod quivered in rage, leaving his fist by the side of Hoeng's head, looking like he would snap around and kill him at any moment. The silence became more unnerving, waiting for some act of violence or rage to break it and spell some fate for those gathered. Nimrod's friends desperately hung on, wanting him to back off. Nimrod stood poised to crush Hoeng. The doctor stayed perfectly firm and controlled.
As they stood here, however…bathed in the normally orange light of the industrial fixtures that hung from the ceiling, something suddenly happened. A bulb that had been dark for months suddenly lit up and began to flash. This one was red. Some of the things turned and looked to it…and immediately tensed. Hoeng himself saw it. The glow began to travel around the room as well, signifying its presence even to those who weren't looking at it…like Nimrod, who had his gaze focused only on Hoeng. They all knew what that meant…
"The silent alarm…" Gelon uttered.
"Well, well…" Hoeng stated calmly. "It seems as if we already have intruders. My guess is that Horus' slip up has finally cost us all. Now the ones that killed your friends will be coming in soon for you as well. And rest assured…they will destroy my machine the moment they know of its true intentions, just as any of you would if you could. After that, the decision will be made for you. Actually…the decision will be made in less than two hours, for that is how long I have left before I revert.
"I don't know if my experiment shrank your brain, Nimrod…but you should realize that you have far more enemies out there than in here. I have the power to help you. The ones who are coming do not. They will kill you…and kill the rest of you as well…once they see what you are. And even if they didn't, they could not help you. If I were you, I'd be doing everything in my power possible to protect the machine and to proceed in the course that would benefit me in the end…not waste time here arguing while what time I had left was running out.
"Threaten me and kill me if you wish, but in the end you'll gain nothing other than some foolish, brief sensation of satisfaction before you realize for the rest of your miserable life, hiding in these tunnels like a rat, that you destroyed whatever hope you have left. What will it be?"
Nimrod hesitated. He was a tempermental man, and one governed by emotions far more than rationality. Despite Hoeng's threats, he would have wanted to destroy him and his precious machine if only to cause the man some measure of pain in exchange for all that he caused him. And yet…he couldn't bring himself to do it. It wasn't for his sake. It was for the sake of the few friends he had left. He hated Hoeng more than anyone…but his friends were the only family he had.
In the end…Nimrod's fist slowly pulled out of the wall and returned to his side.
"Wise choice." Hoeng answered. "Now…Scion, Malcolm, Gelon…assist me in preparing. Nimrod, Clive, Serena…kill the intruders."
RULER
To be continued...