XVI

CHAPTER XVI

THE COREL INCIDENT

The flight of the Gold Saucer Ropeway Shuttle was as smooth as a sailboat on a gentle stream, soaring high above the desolate desert landscape, noiseless but for the muffled drone of the Mako engines' propellers. Deepening sunlight blazed through the long windows of the gondola's empty cabin, caressing the contemporary pinewood furnishings, and enhancing the sweeping panorama of the mountains to the north.

Though each of them could have enjoyed a compartment to themselves had they so wished, the group were crowded into a single booth, refreshed from the day's trek by the overhead air-conditioning. Approximately half of the Skytrain's thirty-minute journey to the amusement park had elapsed before anyone addressed the tense silence, the focus of which remained the brooding Barret; the aftermath of his exchange with North Corel's residents was consuming him.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Aerith finally broached the subject tentatively.

"I'm…sorry…" was all he could muster, his throat dry and his heavy eyes laden with torment.

"Barret, what's going on?" asked Tifa, softening her words as she reached out to touch her friend's leg caringly. The others waited patiently for an answer, investing their curiosity but not demanding haste.

"I s'pose it only makes sense that I tell y'all," he said after a while, biting his lip uneasily. "After what you heard from 'em folks in the village, it's best there ain't no misunderstandin'."

"You mean about what happened to Corel?" Aerith clarified, leaning forward with captivation. "They said you were to blame."

"Well, as y'all might've guessed by now," Barret began, his expression glazed, "my hometown used to be around 'ere."

"'Used to'?" queried Red XIII from the floor of the adjacent aisle, his snout resting upon his enormous forepaws.

"It don't exist no more," he exhaled wistfully. "Most o' it got buried in the sand or demolished to make way for the Gold Saucer. What you saw were the survivors who got driven out. North Corel ain't where I grew up, it's just what's left o' the people from Old Corel."

"But, why did those men say those terrible things?" pried Aerith. "There must be a reason."

"They all think it's my fault things turned out the way they did," Barret hung his head. "An' they're right. For generations, Corel was a famous coal minin' town. My father was a foreman, an' my grandfather, an' his father before him. When the first pioneers discovered coal under Mount Corel, they founded a small community not too far from the Hoplite Canal. After the mine opened, the settlers built a connectin' railroad, an' used it to transport ore to the refinery an' such. There was quite a boom, an' folks came from all 'round to make their fortune. They say there were more jobs 'ere than you could shake a loco weed at.

"The main problem was the location. Corel was on the edge o' the desert, so anyone who didn't strike it rich didn't last too long once the original rush had passed. Demand spiked again durin' the Wutai War, but it meant our reserves disappeared faster. Local families owned the mine, so everybody helped each other out when the money started to dry up. The whole village was dependant on coal, an' pretty much every able-bodied man worked hard hours on the mountain. As the years went by, most o' the resources got used, so the river an' the tree groves receded 'til things became a bit bleak. By the time the War ended, Corel was dusty an' poor, but it was home…"

Barret wiped the sweat from his forehead as he hopped down from the wagon of the steam train and shouldered his tool bag, leaving a blackened smear of soot on the back of his right arm. The aging wheels of the locomotive screeched loudly as they ground to a halt at the terminus, returning the weary labourers from the day's toil in the coalmine. Striding across the sizzling railway tracks, he joined his colleagues around the water-filled drums under the shade of the lofty wooden reservoir, splashing his face and sighing with relief as the cool liquid trickled down his cheeks.

"Get out the way, ya big oaf," came a familiar voice from behind. "Stop hoggin' the refreshment!"

Barret grinned as he stepped aside, playfully shoving Dyne, causing his best friend to snort with amusement as he bent to take a gulp from the drinking fountain, dabbing the spray on his chin. He was a slim man of average height, but strong and handsome; the heartthrob of the town since their youth. Much like his kin, Dyne was sharp-jawed and tanned, with hair so dark it bore a purple tint.

"Let's get outta here," said Barret, gesturing beyond the depot, "the girls're waitin' at my place."

"Then, lead the way," Dyne replied, removing his tattered waistcoat to expose his toned torso.

Wandering beneath the water tower, Barret headed for home, his skin baking in the evening heat as the sun sank towards the distant crests of the western ranges. The soil underfoot was scorched, the surface tarnished by cracks and thick tyre marks, and the occasional patch of stray weeds that had beaten the odds of extinction. As the duo rounded the corner in front of the redbrick chapel, the ancient religious insignia that topped the squat steeple casting a lengthy shadow over the thoroughfare, a young boy burst from its portico entrance, racing after a pair of scrawny mongrels and giggling excitedly.

"Damn kids," Barret muttered, watching the dogs suddenly change direction and begin chasing the boy.

"Yeah," chuckled his friend, "well, I got all this to look forward to."

Dyne and his wife, Eleanor, had recently celebrated the birth of their first child. However, it had been a complicated labour, and Eleanor had been ill in the weeks since their daughter was born. The two lived at the outskirts of town on a croft that had belonged to his ancestors for many decades, so daily support had been somewhat limited. Barret's own wife, Myrna, had helped as much as she could, and the women had grown close in that time.

Passing the mayor's house at the centre of the village, they spotted Spencer's pA-16 sedan parked in the yard behind the Mine Pub, and knew the courier had returned from his trip south. It was the same truck that trundled back and forth between the towns of the region, delivering coal and supplies every day, and bringing news from the outside world. Powered by Mako, the vehicle was a luxury in comparison to the hulking machines Barret remembered from his childhood, whose sluggish engines had run on steam heated in a boiler and required four men to operate.

On the other side of the two-storey timber saloon - notorious for its cask bourbon and drunken skirmishes in equal measure - was the road to Barret's neighbourhood, paved by broken slabs and flanked by a handful of artificial conifers. An abandoned carpentry shed and wheelbarrow nestled at the base of one such tree, untouched since the owner and his family were killed during the War. Trudging down the boulevard, they soon arrived at the cobbled path to the veranda of his humble wooden cottage.

Eleanor waited on the deckchairs out front, nursing the baby in her arms. She was a beautiful woman, but her once-immaculate complexion had become gaunt, and her brown hair dishevelled. One distinguishing feature did linger, however: the majestic silver pendant around her neck, a priceless heirloom that she was never without. As the miners approached, a warm smile formed on her lips, matched only by the proud beam on Dyne's and, as they climbed the steps to the porch, Myrna emerged from inside carrying a tray of iced tea.

"Welcome home," she chirped, standing on her tiptoes to greet her giant husband with a quick kiss, setting the platter on the table and patting down the creases on her pink pinafore. "We've got someone here who's missed you terribly."

"I missed you too, my darling," responded Dyne, carefully taking his tiny daughter from her mother and cradling her gently, wrapping the shawl around her as the rest observed in adoration. "My sweet Marlene…"

"…I assume you've already worked out by now that I'm not Marlene's biological father?" Barret peered slowly from Tifa to Aerith to Cloud, all of whom remained silent, listening to his recollection.

"Yeah, I kinda guessed…" Tifa admitted sheepishly. "But, it wasn't really any of my business."

The stark contrast in skin colour between he and the spirited young girl was something that had been an unspoken anomaly in the days Cloud had spent at Seventh Heaven, but not a subject he had given much consideration to. In fact, he had barely thought of Marlene at all since escaping Midgar, for he assumed that she was safe and well in Kalm under the protection of Aerith's adoptive mother just as Elmyra and Barret had agreed.

"So, if Marlene lived with you in the Slums," posed Aerith, "what happened to her real parents?"

"I'm gettin' to that," he said quietly, gulping as he glanced distractedly out the window and over the sprawling desert. "Back then, we all dreamt o' the good life, that someone would come along an' take our troubles away. One mornin', when Marlene was maybe six months old, we thought our wishes had come true. An envoy of Shinra visited Corel, an' called a meetin' for the local council. Everyone was excited; somethin' big was happenin'. I still remember it like it was yesterday…that was the first time I ever heard the term 'Mako Reactor'…"

Barret let his eyes wander as the assembly awaited Dyne's answer, his focus flitting about the lounge of Mayor Deenglow's home. The room in which the councilmen had gathered was spacious and traditionally decorated, centred around a valuable oriental rug of spiralling patterns. High mahogany shelves lined one wall, filled with a variety of books and ornaments, while coal crackled and glowed red in the brick fireplace. Dyne sat next to Barret at the end of one of the long sofas, his body hunched, staring wordlessly at his boots.

In the armchair opposite them was the beautiful blonde emissary of the Shinra Electric Power Company, her legs crossed and bearing skin in a seductive manner as the revealing crimson dress rode up her thighs. Director Scarlet had presented the corporation's proposals to the men, her enchanting voice capturing their imagination, and had then simply withdrawn to allow them time to debate the issue as a community. She had watched with great interest, saying nothing, as discreet as the suited personnel that escorted her and the infantrymen stationed outside.

"What are we going to do?" the elderly mayor spoke eventually as he stood over Dyne, stroking his white beard before placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You're the only one who's against this."

"I definitely vote no on the matter," he blasted, his expression contorted in anxiety and betrayal, his brow glistening with sweat. His pleading gaze darted from Barret to Spencer and around the lounge, desperate for support. When he found none, he glared once more at Mayor Deenglow, causing the frail old man to shirk away.

"Would you like to talk about your position on this?" asked Scarlet, brushing the strands of her golden hair behind her ear as she leaned forward in the armchair.

"There ain't nothin' to talk about if y'all are thinkin' of throwin' away our coal!" he snarled, rising irately to his feet. Scarlet did not flinch. "Our coal's been fiercely defended for generations; our ancestors risked their lives for it. We have no right to dishonour their memory by givin' up that legacy so easily."

"C'mon, Dyne," appealed Barret, empathising, "we don't wanna turn our backs on what our fathers left us either, but no-one uses coal nowadays. It's a sign o' the times. We're livin' in the age of Mako an' we gotta go where the train's headed."

"The War's over and technology is advancing every year," Mayor Deenglow agreed. "There isn't a demand for coal anymore. How can we prosper? How can we feed our families if we can't make any money-?"

"That's right," interrupted Scarlet, clearing her throat as she initiated her talent for persuasion, "everything is powered by Mako energy now. It will be alright; your family's future is secure. Shinra, Inc. will guarantee your livelihood once the Reactor is completed."

"Listen, man," Barret sighed, "I can barely put bread on the table. I don't want Myrna to suffer no more."

"I know how you feel," Dyne slumped back onto the couch, holding his head in his hands. "I feel the same way too, godsdamn it! Marlene's growin' up so fast an' things ain't perfect. But, even so, I won't give away our coalmine."

"You've got to understand," said the mayor, glancing sideways towards Director Scarlet and her associates, "we don't have a choice…"

"…an' that was how the Mount Corel facility got built," Barret continued, his eyes vacant, the agony of the account unmistakable. "Construction work started right away. The village got pretty busy for a while with all the contractors an' Shinra guys passin' through. There's an old sayin' that goes 'a Mako Reactor outside Midgar means there's nothin' else 'round there'. I guess that was true for how Corel had wound up.

"I'd hate it now, but at the time it made things better. The troops posted in Corel brought in some fresh blood an' kept the thieves from the badlands away. Some o' us even got to go visit Midgar an' learn 'bout how the power plants worked. Durin' them months, there was definitely a renewed sense o' community spirit an' security, an' even optimism…

"We all wanted the Reactor to be completed quickly; we all thought it would bring us an easier life. Then, one day, everythin' changed in a heartbeat. It happened when Dyne an' I were outta town. There used to be cabins up on the mountains for the miners workin' overtime, an' the two of us had been up there for a few nights tryin' to earn some extra money. On the mornin' of my last shift, I went down to the mine alone. I remember the air was crisp, the sun was shinin', an' I was happy 'cause the Reactor was almost finished…"

Awright, no problems with this cart neither…

Barret ticked the applicable box and signed his initials on the health and safety inspection sheet, then hung the clipboard on the hook above the turntable. The flickering gas lamps sent his shadow reaching far along the narrow tracks, flirting with the ragged limestone walls of the darkened tunnel. The mine car itself was exactly as he had left it the previous evening, still as heavy and rusting as the first day he worked in these subterranean passages more than a decade before. A thick layer of charcoal lingered at the bottom of the trapezoid truck: remnants of an earlier haul.

Mopping sweat from his forehead, he cleaned it on his white vest-top, adding to the buildup of grime on the frayed cotton. He had been wearing the same shirt for three days now, and it was in dire need of a thorough wash. The thought cast his mind to Myrna, causing his heart to skip a beat as he longed to return home to his beautiful wife. Exhaling deeply, he snatched his pickaxe from beneath the turntable's control lever, and checked his watch.

8:32…time to hit the lower shafts. Gonna start diggin' when everyone gets here.

"Hey!"

Barret froze on the spot, surprised to hear anybody's voice in the tunnel at this hour, let alone one with such hostility. Glancing hurriedly around, his adjusting eyes searched the dimness for its source. From the northern corridor emerged a lone figure clad in a beige military uniform of sorts, the footsteps of his steel-plated boots echoing as he approached the turntable. It was a boy in his late teens that he did not recognise.

"Who are you?" Barret challenged the kid, as civilly as he could muster. "Never seen your face 'round here before."

"I'm shuttin' this area down," he answered sternly. "Get outta here."

"What d'you say?" hissed the giant.

"It's for the Reactor," the youth affirmed without emotion.

"So, you're one o' the engineers, huh?" Barret snorted, his wide nostrils flaring irritably; discourtesy and unpredictable commands had been a common theme since construction had got underway on Shinra's power plant.

"I…yeah," he stammered, scratching his head hesitantly.

"Then, just say so next time," grumbled Barret, shouldering his tool and muttering to himself as he marched down the western passage, making no secret of his contempt. "Guess I ain't got no choice…"

Following the railroad as it descended in the direction of the Hoplite Canal wharf, the disrespectful attitude of the Shinra employee began to fester in his thoughts. Down and down the tracks sloped, the minutes dragging and his blood boiling. As he neared the cavernous loading bay from which he could access other parts of the network, he was unable to suppress his frustration any longer.

Lashing out at an empty oil drum, Barret's boot collided hard with the hollow container, triggering a sharp din that resonated around the buttressed walls, deafening him. As the ringing in his ears gradually subsided, he detected the scurrying of feet farther along the tunnel. Edging slowly towards the corner, he listened closely, emitting a muffled gasp as someone came crashing into his midriff.

"Whoa there," he spluttered, stumbling backwards, "hold yer horses."

Composing himself and looking down at the perpetrator, Barret's bleary gaze fell upon another young man, baffled by his unusual presence. He was short and slim in stature, with sleek black hair and a spiked fringe that hung wildly across one eye. The generic formal suit he was wearing had the buttons between his collar and chest undone in a somewhat casual manner, and holsters for his twin silver handguns on a belt around his waist.

"Sorry 'bout that," the man mumbled in a crude Midgar accent, recognising the uncertainty in the giant's expression as he noticed the pistols. "I'm in a rush."

"Don't worry 'bout it," waved Barret amicably.

"You wouldn't happen to be one of the miners, would ya?" he asked, peering beyond the bend in the corridor. "I need to get to the Reactor. I just keep goin' straight, right?"

"Yeah, but you ain't gonna get near that place today," Barret grunted sardonically. "Seems like they're doin' some final construction work."

"That doesn't sound right," frowned the man. "Who told you that?"

"Some little punk back there."

"Beige outfit?"

"Yeah."

"Shit!" he swore, hastily pulling his cellphone from his jacket pocket. "Godsdammit, there's no signal down here."

"What's the problem?"

"You've been fooled, my friend," said the young man, his features laden with apprehension. "Those guys aren't here to support the construction; they're here to disrupt it."

"What?" Barret erupted, slamming his fist against the rock. "They ain't gettin' away with this!"

"I've come to deal with the problem," he nodded. "The name's Rafe. I'm with the Turks."

"Barret Wallace," the giant offered a hand. "Let me know if there's anythin' I can do to help stop these assholes."

"I want to get into the facility without being noticed," explained Rafe. "Can I do that from here?"

"Sure," Barret grinned with vengeance, "I'll show you the way…"

"…me an' the Turk ran into some resistance after that. Those rebels had occupied the tunnels an' were pretty well organised, but nothin' we couldn't handle. I got Rafe as far as the north exit to Simurgh's Pass an' let him take care o' things from there, then went to find Dyne so we could get outta the mine an' back to our families. We figured the Shinra had it under control, but…"

Barret watched the dense plumes of black smoke surge into the late morning sky, and immediately knew that something had gone seriously wrong. He and Dyne had felt a distant rumble almost two hours before as they navigated the ant-farm-like maze of the coalmine. To inexperienced foremen, it might have sounded like a measured dynamite blast or a collapsing ceiling, but they each boasted more than ten years' practice in this trade, though they hoped they were mistaken about the disturbing reverberation's origin.

The duo had managed to locate an unofficial and lesser used trail which brought them out at a steeply inclined cliffside overlooking an immense chasm whose depths lay far below Mount Corel. Careful as they went, the friends had made their way down the elevated path as it snaked perilously atop the great ravine, grasping at the serrated rock to negotiate the potholes.

Beneath the sizzling rays of an unrelenting sun, they had eventually arrived at the redbrick fortifications of the new railroad bridge that spanned the canyon. Purpose-built as an extension to the coalmine system so that employees could be transported back and forth by locomotive between Corel and the Mako Reactor, the viaduct granted a route to the southern ranges. The air was deathly silent here: no screeching of needlekiss birds; no holler of nearby workers; no murmur of the waters that cascaded the bed of the gorge. Scampering up the concrete steps to the raised walkway, they had been greeted by a sight that made their stomachs knot.

Now, despite only the scaling chimney and temporary scaffolding at the crown of the power plant being visible beyond the spur of the mountainside, the severity of the explosion was unquestionable. The central tower and office block remained intact, but the fumes seemed to be soaring from the industrial furnace at the core of the sunken complex; there, such damage would be far from superficial and indeed impact significantly on the Reactor's operations.

"You think we should help?" Dyne asked, his brows furrowing with concern.

"Dunno," Barret responded tentatively, a cold shiver running down his spine as he observed the ominous dancing smog. "If the Shinra people ain't got it sorted out, what chance do we got?"

Hopping down from his vantage point on the outcrop, Dyne joined him on the railway tracks. He snatched his rucksack from the ground and tossed the straps over his shoulder, brushing matted strands of limp hair from his face. The highland breeze was quickening, sweeping the cooling gusts around the two men as it channelled air up the bluffs from the canal. From somewhere above the looming peaks, the sound of an approaching helicopter infiltrated the eerie quietness.

"That's strange…" said Dyne, wrinkling his nose, glancing anxiously about the backdrop.

"What is?"

"That burnin' smell is gettin' stronger."

"Of course," scoffed Barret, "the godsdamn Reactor's on fire, man."

"The wind's blowin' north," Dyne retorted in panic.

"So?"

"We're goin' south. Something's wrong; we shouldn't be able to smell anythin'-"

"Corel…"

As Barret mouthed that last word, a thunderous wave of noise flooded over the pair, the roar of the aircraft's rotary blades dominating the landscape as it arced across the sky. Slowing when he spotted the two men, the pilot rapidly changed direction and made a swift descent towards the relatively smooth plateau a short way along the hills of the southern range. Hearts pounding in their chests, Barret and Dyne shared a hesitant nod, then broke into a sprint, hurtling across the bridge to rendezvous with the helicopter.

"Hey!" called a sudden desperate voice from the opposite embankment. An elderly bearded man staggered out from between two hulking boulders, stumbling badly, his clothes charred with blood and ash. "Help us!"

"It's Deenglow!" gasped Dyne, his legs pumping hard with adrenaline as he dashed along the railroad.

"Boys, you've got to help," cried the mayor, energy sapping from his weary features. "The town's under attack! Everything's ablaze!"

"What?" Barret bawled, the shock of the statement bringing an overpowering numbness to his body, forcing him to his knees. "The hell happened? Who could've done this?"

"It's the Shinra," whimpered Mayor Deenglow. "Their troops turned on us after the bombing at the Reactor."

"My wife?"

"I'm sorry, I…I don't know…"

"Shinra…" Barret growled through gritted teeth, pounding his fists on the gravel in anguish. "They'll pay for this!"

"Get up!" ordered Dyne, yanking at his arm. "It ain't over yet! We need to get down there. Eleanor, Myrna…everyone's waitin' for us!"

Time seemed to stand still as the initial rifle shot rang out, the bullet wailing like a banshee as it sped through the crisp mountain air, embedding itself in the back of the old man. Blood burst from his ribs, and in the same motion as he slumped to the ground, the light in his eyes diminished. Rising to his feet, a ferocious bellow escaped Barret's throat as the squad of Shinra infantrymen moved into view from their position amid the rock formations at the end of the viaduct, their weapons trained on the remaining miners.

"There they are!" he heard one of the soldiers shout, advancing onto the overpass. "Don't let them get away."

"C'mon," insisted Dyne, "we gotta get outta here."

"Halt!" demanded the first of the royal blue uniforms as the duo began to retreat. "Stay right where you are!"

Ignoring the command, Barret and Dyne turned on their heels and careered back across the bridge, ducking their heads as a volley of gunfire erupted against the iron girders around them. Weaving this way and that to evade the spray of bullets, they soon reached the northern ridge once more, pursued by a cacophony of stomping military boots. Panting heavily, Dyne grabbed the barrier at the edge of the walkway and leapt onto the cliff trail below, promptly joined by his cursing companion.

"You can shoot all day and hit nothing with an aim like that," cackled a ruthless and familiar voice from behind. Looking up at the centre of the structure, his veins throbbing with anger, Barret caught a fleeting glimpse of the unforgettable blonde woman from the Company's Department of Weapons Development.

Scarlet? What the fuck…?

"Hurry," hissed Dyne, darting into the channel that passed under the foundations to the foot of Simurgh's Pass.

"Stop messing around," Scarlet yelled in frustration as each wayward shot sparked harmlessly against the hillside or vanished into the great yonder of the canyon. Pushing a grunt aside, she snatched his Quicksilver rifle and unleashed an onslaught at the scrambling Barret. "Get over here, you fools, and cover me!"

A targeted line of gunfire chased him into the tunnel where he sought shelter for a few seconds, catching his breath. When he was ready to make a run for it, he gave his best friend a thumbs-up, and they sprang simultaneously from the tunnel, taking off up the exposed pathway. With the sharpest of reactions as the fugitives once again flashed within her sights, Scarlet composed her aim, and squeezed the trigger on the automatic weapon. Dyne howled in agony as the slug ripped through his right shoulder, crashing against the wall of limestone with the force of it before losing his balance and tumbling from the ledge.

"Dyne!" screamed Barret, hurling himself forward and clasping a hand around his wrist as he disappeared into the ravine. He clutched as tightly and resolutely as he could, swinging Dyne back against the craggy bluff. His friend grasped for something to hold onto with his spare arm, wincing as his bloodying wound widened.

"Barret, I-"

"Hang on!" Barret snapped, his muscles straining and burning as he fought to lift him. "Listen to me…you're comin' back to Corel, y'hear?"

"I ain't lettin' go!"

"We're gonna go see Eleanor an' Marlene."

"I know…"

Dyne's gaze suddenly met Barret's, his expression drained of colour and hope, but he offered a weak smile nonetheless; his tender grip was fading and they both knew it. Barret heaved with all his might, ignoring the imminent bombardment as the next barrage of bullets crept along the precipice towards them. The climax of their frantic bid brought about a surreal awareness where a meagre second lasted an eon, and the realisation that the fine details of this moment would haunt him forever.

He was helpless as the Quicksilver round tore through his hand, shredding both it and Dyne's, splattering flesh and bone across the grainy rock. In the instant it took the searing pain to race up his limb, Barret caught one final glance of his kinsman's dark and frightened eyes, then watched him plunge silently into the blackened void of the canyon.

"…that was how I lost the use o' my forearm," he sighed, staring absently at the menacing gatling-gun that now resided in its place. "But, that day, they took away so much more than just a damn hand."

"I'm so sorry…" Aerith wiped a tear away. "I had no idea."

"How did you manage to escape?" asked Tifa.

"The mine," Barret replied quietly. "I made it into the passages before the soldiers could capture me. They weren't stupid enough to follow. From there, I got down to the canal an' sailed back to Corel. What I found…no man should ever have to see…"

The only sensation that lingered in his mutilated hand was a dull throb as his body's endorphins battled to numb the excruciating injury. He had wrapped his grimy vest around the oozing hole where his palm had been, the material now soaked in crimson blood, heavy and dripping. Staggering down the boulevard towards his cottage, clasping clumsily at anything that was not charred or still smouldering, he felt light-headed, as if he would wake from this nightmare at any minute.

Corel was no more; an entire community decimated in mere hours. The brickwork foundations of homes were shrouded by ghostly slivers of black smoke, their contents disfigured and unrecognisable, savagely consumed by the blaze. The upper-storey of the iconic Mine Pub had collapsed inwardly, leaving only an empty space where its timber roof had been, and its signage hung limp and unsafe. A thin veil of grey ash swathed the soil like a blanket of snow, swirling nonchalantly underfoot as he dragged himself homeward. Barret's brain had barely registered the scattered corpses of men, women and children that had perished in the massacre, slain by gunfire and left callously to be claimed by the flames. Amid the noiseless aftermath, he was drunk with desperation, his thought process as clunky as jamming cogs.

Arriving at the cobbled path to his now-crumbling property, the devastation too much to bear, he let out a terrible and tormented whine. His eyes burned; his throat was a desert; his muscles were on the brink of yielding; his soul was shattered into a thousand fragments. The bodies of Myrna and Eleanor were slumped on the scorched remnants of the veranda, motionless and stained in deep red. Barret held a quivering hand to his mouth as he stumbled across the yard, kneeling by his wife's side and cradling her head on his lap.

"Myrna…" he croaked, no more a word than a mournful whimper, "I'm sorry…"

His blurred gaze fell upon her perfect face, now smeared with dirt and horror, and he broke down in sobs as he begged the Gods to return her smile. Images of their shared experiences reeled through his mind in a bittersweet torture: their wedding day; lying naked in the dark; watching the spectacular sunsets over the western promontories. The idea that these were now simply a memory, that he would never again share with her the beauties of the Planet, was an inexorable kick to the gut. Tears of despair cascaded down his bristly cheeks, but he cared not; he no longer cared about anything. Delicately brushing the loose strands of fringe from Myrna's forehead, Barret held his wife close, and closed her eyes for the last time.

It was then that he heard the child's cough: a faint golden beacon piercing such a world of sorrow. As he paused, the muted sound came again. Lowering Myrna to the wooden floor, he turned towards Eleanor who lay near what had been the doorway. Her bloodied figure was curled in the foetal position, arms wrapped firmly around Dyne's two-year-old daughter, Marlene. In his own grief, Barret had failed to notice the girl, sheltered by her mother in one final act before she died. Two large eyes looked guardedly out at him from behind a mop of wispy brown hair, wide and afraid.

Wincing as a sharp pain shot from his wound, he reached out his free hand amiably, beckoning her, his breathing still laden with sadness. She hesitated, but gradually crawled from her mother's grasp, pushing aside the silver pendant that hung around Eleanor's neck. Barret welcomed her with a warm embrace, rubbing the child's back as she coughed once more from smoke inhalation. She clung to him with relief and terror and confusion, her head buried against his shoulder, and stayed that way for a long time.

"Hey!"

Barret spun suddenly as a man's voice resounded from the thoroughfare. Beyond the cremated rows of conifers, a small crowd of survivors had assembled. With an arm around the cowering Marlene, he rose to his feet and strode down the garden path to meet them. At the head of the party was Spencer, his mane singed and burly torso patched with makeshift bandages, limping badly.

"You guys made it?" called Barret, slowing his pace as he realised each of the group bore fierce expressions. "I'm glad that-"

"You're gonna die for this!" roared Spencer.

"What…?" Barret stammered, glancing between them as they approached.

"It's your fault!" Spencer spat viciously, the others gathering around him. "All your fault!"

"The hell you talkin' about?"

"Look at our town! Look at our home! Our families! You did this!"

"Spencer…I…" pleaded Barret, "it was the Shinra!"

"But, you brought them here!" he retorted with untamed ferocity. "You promised us a better life! Now, we have nothin'!"

"I was fooled just the same as you!"

"So, where were you?" Spencer challenged. "When we needed you most, where were you? Where was Dyne? You were s'posed to protect us!"

"I…Dyne's gone…"

"It don't matter," growled a second man, seizing a hunting knife from his belt, "you're gonna suffer just the same."

"Please…" Barret wheezed fearfully. "My wife…Dyne…I ain't got no part in this…"

"You can tell 'em that when ya see 'em."

As the man stepped forward, Marlene screamed, halting him in his tracks. She peered timidly at the townspeople from within Barret's shuddering grip, recognising the threat but not understanding why. With a deliberating scowl, Spencer put a hand on his cohort's shoulder, grudgingly gesturing for him to retreat.

"Please," Barret said again, his tone soft, "please don't hurt the girl."

"Go!" ordered Spencer after a tense silence, snarling in abhorrence as he pointed towards the darkening horizon. "Take her an' get outta here. Don't ever come back. You will never be welcome in Corel again…"

"…findin' Marlene was probably the only thing that kept me alive that day," he concluded, biting his trembling lip. "I'd never been a father before so lookin' after the kid was like a crash course in parentin'. I was lost without Myrna; didn't know what to do or where to go. I didn't even have a photograph of her. Only thing I knew for sure was that I wasn't gonna let that little girl outta my sight. I couldn't let Dyne down so I adopted her as my own.

"I figured we had to get far away from Corel so I made for the coast an' took a ship to Junon. We stayed a while in a small farmin' village where I could work on the land in exchange for some safe keepin'. But, my wounds just got worse. My arm started to rot an' the doc had to amputate. After the operation, he sent me to see an old craftsman that lived on the edge o' town. Old Man Sakaki was his name; he specialised in prosthetics.

"The first arm he made for me was pretty simple. It had a hook at the end but was no use for diggin' in the fields. So he made me one with a shovel, then a hammer. But, none o' them was right. I got depressed for a while. Sakaki knew it. One day, he got pissed at me an' said he wasn't gonna make anythin' else. As I was leavin', he gave me an adaptor so that I could choose for myself. So I threw away my artificial hand an' got this gun grafted to it. That's when I started to feel better.

"As usual, everythin' that'd happened was kept a secret from the public," Barret continued as the others listened intently, "but I'd managed to gather some info 'bout it. The Shinra secretly reported a bunch o' men who was opposed to the Reactor had planted the bombs. They said the rebels destroyed the evidence by burnin' Corel to the ground. All lies to cover their own asses. But, for me, the final straw was when the Company forced the survivors outta town an' used the remains as a prison, then built a money-grabbin' amusement park on top of it."

"I can't believe all this went on and nobody had any idea," Aerith shook her head, aghast. Cloud and Tifa shared a glance, acknowledging the correlation between Barret's tale and the fate of Nibelheim.

"Despicable," agreed Red XIII, contemplatively. "Truly despicable. Is that what brought you to Midgar?"

"Yeah," he exhaled remorsefully. "Folks told me I could make a fresh start in the city. Gotta admit, I was tempted, but somethin' else kept me goin'. I was readin' all sorts o' books on the Study o' Planet Life. That's when I began to respect our world as somethin' that needed protectin'. Realisin' the damage the Shinra was doin' to the Planet, I wanted to fight back just like the old AVALANCHE. I'd lost my wife; my best friend. I was an outcast, but I'd got me a new right arm an' some heavy firepower.

"But, the old AVALANCHE was gone. If I was gonna save the Planet, I'd have to go it alone…or so I thought. I bought Seventh Heaven off a carpenter from the Sector5 Slums, an' used my skills to run the bar. Biggs an' Wedge were locals an' already good buddies, so when they became regulars, we all hit it off. Biggs' mum had recently died an' he was takin' it pretty hard. He was angry. I told him 'bout my plans for stoppin' the Mako Reactors an' he signed up without a second thought. Wedge, o' course, followed.

"Jessie didn't join us 'til a bit later. That girl was a genius. She could do anythin' with a computer an' had been taught how to make explosives by an old mercenary dude she'd dated in Costa del Sol. Last to arrive was Tifa, wanderin' into the bar one day an' demandin' a job. She'd just been let outta hospital an' I guess had her own reasons for hatin' the Shinra. She never told me why she wanted revenge, but I guess she blamed them for what Sephiroth did.

"Those four were so young an' full of life, desperate to actively support my so-called revolution, but years passed without any real progress. Then, one night in November, 'round 'bout the time Cloud showed up, Jessie used the Worldwide Network to hack an encrypted laptop an' discovered Fuhito's old plans for creatin' a bomb. By this time, that madman's extremists had been defeated by the Shinra, an' we wanted to take matters into our own hands. We thought we could use it to cause a Reactor malfunction; y'know, leave an impression. I'd grown tired of waitin'; grown sick of seein' Myrna's face only in my dreams. I told those kids our mission was to be 'Protectors of the Planet'. But, that ain't why I was doin' it…"

"Barret…?" stammered Tifa, gaping at him in a mixture of doubt and accusation.

"Shit, Tifa, you of all people oughtta know by now," he hung his head. "I might act like I'm out to save the world, but I only wanna get my revenge. I was doin' it for myself; I ain't the man I claim to be. I couldn't save my family…how could I save the Planet?"

"It's alright," she offered a comforting smile, "I'm not so different from you. Everyone's been through a lot of hardship."

"But, those three kids," he snivelled, hiding his face, "they were my friends. They died 'cause o' my hatred."

"They died fighting for something they believed in," Tifa contended, her voice stern. "Even if you didn't believe in it. Don't dishonour their memory by trivialising AVALANCHE's purpose."

"That ain't what I mean," he responded ashamedly. "Comin' back here was the first time since AVALANCHE got together that I've thought much 'bout Corel. I was so wrapped up in my own vengeance that I almost forgot why I was doin' it. Maybe Spencer an' his cronies were right: maybe I am just a walkin' death sentence…"

"I still don't get it," frowned Aerith. "None of this explains why the people are still mad at you. Can't they see you were misled the same as they were?"

"I think in their hearts," Barret shrugged, "they all know this wasn't any of our faults."

"Perhaps they'll never be satisfied unless they can make someone a scapegoat?" suggested Tifa.

"Even so," he accepted, "more than Shinra, I still can't forgive myself. I shouldn't have gone along with the construction. They took advantage of us."

"You can't shoulder the responsibility for that," said Cloud, his only input since his comrade's recollection began. The words were distant but profound. "We were all fooled by the promises Shinra made back then."

"That's…" Tifa faltered, her wide eyes studying her childhood friend with surprise, "that's exactly right."

"Everything the Shinra do seems to make people miserable," breathed Aerith as if a fragment of happiness had been lost forever, blankly watching the first of the Gold Saucer's greeting spotlights wash over the ropeway.

"One day, I'll repay the folks o' Corel," vowed Barret, his jaw set with determination as the magnificent swathe of white illuminated his beaten and scarred features. "I'll atone for my mistakes. I swear it! Maybe then I can go home…"

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