A/N: Almost there! Two chapters left!
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THE STARS WE DREAMED OF
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25
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Bodies litter the 27th-floor corridor of Shinra Tower; blood and ash are everywhere, coating Cloud's hands and face and clothes. He rests against a wall, panting from exhaustion and pain, and takes precious seconds to pull himself together. The extensive use of his ability drained most of his energy, and he remembers Tifa explaining it could happen weeks ago. He reins in the bitterness at the memory of simpler times and pushes away from the wall. Further down the hall, footsteps and shouts echo, heralding the arrival of more soldiers. He winces as he takes off; the few soldiers who got hits in didn't hold back.
Going back to the office where he left Tifa isn't an option; if Vincent didn't keep his end of the deal, and Cloud leads the soldiers there… he'd rather not think of it. Instead, he finds the nearest stairwell and heads down a few levels until breathing becomes arduous and the pain in his chest too acute to bear. He must have bruised ribs at the very least; he leans against the railing to catch his breath.
A door opens a floor below, accompanied by voices. Cloud lunges away from the railing and plasters his body against the wall, hoping they won't notice him. Still, he takes out his knife in case. He can't rely on his power too much, not if he wants to have enough strength to find a way out. But the soldiers stay where they are on the landing. Their radio reverberates through the stairwell.
"—says you're to head to Command."
"We're still looking for the—"
"Captain said he wants to see you right now. Another unit will take over."
The soldier doesn't reply immediately. Then, "We're on our way."
"Fuck, what the hell does he want now?" Another soldier.
"Doesn't matter. Let's go."
As their footsteps ring, indicating their retreat, Cloud's heart beats faster and faster—before he can think this through, he treads after them, keeping a distance. He hasn't thought of the Captain these last days. For the last two weeks, even. His revenge had stopped being a goal, but now—Cloud senses his pulse drum in his throat like it will rip out of his skin. The Captain is in reach. There will never be another opportunity to avenge Aerith. To avenge all the victims of senseless violence and cruel regulations. Cloud tightens his grip on his knife, willing his body to calm down, to find that empty place in his mind where fighting and killing are second nature.
The soldiers halt three levels down. Cloud counts three of them and waits until they're about to open the door before striking. Mustering a slight amount of energy, he pads close and sends a burst of heat through the door's handle; the soldier holding it yells out, jumping back.
"Fuck!"
Another one whirls around, seeking Cloud—she spots him right as he slams into her and grabs the back of her head, banging it against the wall with all of his strength. She crumples to the floor with a groan. The man who touched the handle makes to grab his radio, so Cloud goes for him first. He slashes at the soldier's face; in such a confined space, he stands close enough to hit true. Blood gushes out from the uneven cut, and the soldier screams, dropping his hold on the radio.
From the corner of his eyes, Cloud sees the last soldier aiming her handgun and about to pull the trigger; he throws himself to the floor as she fires, narrowly avoiding the bullet that finds the bleeding soldier's neck instead. She freezes as her teammate gurgles blood and trips over his feet, falling down and not getting up. The distraction is enough for Cloud to catch her by surprise by stabbing the back of her left knee; he draws the knife out as she stumbles with a cry. Her position close to the edge of the stairs doesn't allow her to regain her balance, and she goes tumbling down, her helmet her only protection. When she crashes on the mid-level landing, she stays down, grasping her leg. Cloud comes close and before she can sit up, stabs down into the exposed section of her neck. He unlatches her helmet, letting her head hit the floor. On his way back to the door, Cloud grabs the shot soldier's keycard in case it's needed to get access to the Captain, as well as his gun. Though he's not used to the weapon, he knows it might come in handy. He stops next to the unconscious soldier, nudging her with his boot. She doesn't move, so he puts on the helmet, lowers the visor, and walks into the hall.
Cloud doesn't have to search long for the place the soldiers called Command; the floor's layout centers on it. Soldiers run past him—Cloud has to control the years of survival taking over not to jump out of the way. But he maintains a brisk pace, hoping they don't notice all the blood soiling his uniform. The black clothes serve their purposes well, and the soldiers don't spare him a glance. They round the corner, and Cloud lets out a sigh. He takes a few more steps, stopping in front of the door labeled Command.
As he goes to swipe the keycard, Cloud freezes. What is about to do sweeps over him, carrying him away from the shore of rationality and self-preservation. Images flash before his eyes, memories he'd rather lock away surfacing—the Fair's house burning down and Zack running inside; Aerith brought to her knees and shot point-blank; Tifa weak and sick from experiments trying to stifle who she is—who they both are. Any doubts he might have had evaporate as the rage, the ruthlessness, the grief all amalgamate. They blind him, and left to utter darkness, Cloud doesn't walk away. He swipes the keycard and waits for the light to turn green and the door to slide open.
The multitude of screens, showcasing diverse areas of Midgard and the Tower, brighten the otherwise dim room. Desks fill the space, but soldiers occupy only four. In the middle stands a tall man, his back to Cloud, but there is no doubt who he is. Cloud inhales to clear the buzzing in his head, and once he feels steady, he unfastens the helmet's strap. Behind him, the door skids shut. The noise attracts a soldier's attention; he raises his head right as Cloud takes off the helmet and throws it to the floor. The soldier's eyes widen in recognition, and he jumps to his feet.
"Capt—"
His shout garbles into a scream, joining the chorus of the other soldiers' as they burn. The flare-up of energy spent on the attack drains Cloud at once, and he curbs in the little he has left, letting the fire die. The burns inflicted were enough to at least debilitate the soldiers, and they collapse. Only the Captain still stands, the flames having spared him; he twists around, just enough to glimpse Cloud—his hand drifts to his waist, close to his weapon.
For a split-second, Cloud considers allowing the flames to take over and burn the man before him. But there is something about the thought that doesn't settle with Cloud—he wants to make the Captain hurt and bleed, and he wants to do it with his bare hands. He whips out his knife and rushes at him.
Sephiroth reacts in time to draw his gun and move out of Cloud's way. To his surprise, Cloud realizes the Captain is fast—this is someone who knows how to fight.
Cloud smiles, teeth bared. Good. It'll only be more satisfying in the end.
Though he almost barrels into the desk Sephiroth had been standing in front of, Cloud rights himself at the last moment and swivels to lunge at him, arm outstretched for an upward slash. The Captain aims and fires as the knife finds its target—the cut is superficial, and the bullet only grazes Cloud's arm. Sephiroth moves back again to put distance between them but bumps into one of the many desks. Not missing the opening, Cloud grabs the Captain's gun arm, pulls him down towards the desk, and stabs into the crook of his elbow. The gun clatters on the table, and a cry escapes the Captain.
Before Cloud can take out his knife, Sephiroth grabs a fistful of his hair and slams his head unto the desk. Cloud's vision spots and nausea rises at the impact. Sephiroth shoves him away, sending Cloud tumbling, and takes out the knife, grunting as he does so. Dizziness hinders Cloud's movements, and he can't properly avoid the next strike—the knife cuts into his cheek towards his ear in a shallow line. He feels the burn of the wound and the blood dripping down his face.
The Captain doesn't slow and comes at Cloud again. Not having space to duck, Cloud reaches for the closest object—a computer screen—and smashes it into Sephiroth's face. The blow disorients him, giving Cloud an opportunity; he throws the screen away and jabs the Captain in the throat, the height difference allowing him to land the hit without difficulty. Sephiroth stumbles, grasping at his neck; as he tries to inhale, a terrible wheezing noise ensues. Cloud swipes the Captain's legs out from under him, and the man goes crashing to the floor.
Like with Rufus Shinra, Cloud senses delusory power flowing inside him as he looms over the gasping Captain. Sephiroth drags himself upright and unto his knees; the pose echoes deep inside Cloud, a reflection of Aerith's last moments, and he remembers the gun he picked up. This close, it'll be harder for him to miss. With a steady hand, he unholsters the weapon and treads close to the Captain.
"This is for Aerith," Cloud rasps as he brings the barrel of the gun up and level with Sephiroth's forehead.
There is no recognition in the Captain's eyes. While it's something Cloud had expected, it still enrages him.
His voice is soft when he asks, "Any last words?"
The Captain's constricted breathing and scorching glare is his sole answer.
Cloud smiles, allowing his hatred to shine through. "Didn't think so."
He pulls the trigger. Blood splatters over Cloud, but he doesn't wipe it away. Sephiroth's body thuds on the floor, the only sound besides Cloud's heavy panting. He lowers the gun and watches the life pool out of the Captain.
Cloud waits. He waits for the satisfaction, the triumph, the rightness of what he did to course through him. He stands over the lifeless body of the Captain, wishing for all his sorrow and trials to finally be justified—but he feels nothing but emptiness and regrets. Emotion grips him by the throat and squeezes; Cloud closes his eyes to regain his composure. The magnitude of his choice dawns on him—despite everything that happened these last months, he decided on pursuing his revenge. Fear envelops him; he still doesn't know what happened to Tifa, doesn't he? And he needs to get out of Shinra Tower and find her so they can meet up with Avalanche. He can't waste any more time.
He strides for a side door right as a voice resounds, making him startle.
"Captain, there is no sign of the intruder. The girl from Research was last spotted with Agent Valentine."
Relief has Cloud sag and sigh at the words; his fear eases a little. White noise comes from the radio as the soldier waits for a reply.
"Captain?"
The wariness in the soldier's voice is all the encouragement Cloud needs to bolt—they will come investigating the lack of answer. There is no one in sight in the hall, though the noise further down reveals he isn't alone. Cloud swears when he glimpses himself in a window; he's covered in blood from all the fights and will be recognizable immediately. Something seizes his attention as he looks past his mirror image and down into the city. People have taken to the streets in sizeable crowds, gathering in front of what appears to be the Sector 3 Tower entrance. Military trucks and soldiers form a barrier between the people and the building. Cloud leans forward to see better but then springs back into action as an alarm blares off inside the Tower. A voice over the intercom supplies instructions—Cloud doesn't take the time to register them. He has to find an exit now.
The thunder of footsteps blends in with the siren, making it hard to know which way they come from. Cloud runs as fast as he can; the unsteadiness from the blow he sustained to his head still hasn't fully cleared, and he collides with a wall as he turns a corner. He can't take the time to recuperate and goes on. Panic swells, heightened by the cacophony of danger that follows him everywhere. Colors blur together from the exhaustion and dizziness, but Cloud still spots the red EMERGENCY EXIT sign hanging above a door with a crash bar. Though it's difficult to distinguish through all the noise, another alarm shrieks as Cloud bangs the door open. He races down the stairs, noting he is on the 20th floor. He reaches the halfway point when he hears a door crash open behind him; the gunshots follow before he can register what is happening.
The shock of the bullet bursting through his back paralyzes Cloud; he yells out as another one lodges into his right shoulder. He trips and smashes into the wall, groaning, and wills himself to turn around to face the shooter. He manages to as a bullet embeds itself into the wall, right where his head was a second ago. Cloud throws his arm forward, sending out every ounce of energy he has left; a quick glance at his attacker has Cloud's heart constrict. The shooter cries out as the flames scorch the right half of his upper body. Cloud moves away from his line of sight and down the stairs—he turns into an alcove barely big enough to conceal him and leans against the wall to catch his breath. This can't be happening, he thinks, it can't.
"Buddy!" The emptiness of the stairwell amplifies Reno's shout. Pain seeps from his voice. "That's one fucking way to greet me!"
Cloud bites his lip to keep in a roar of anger. Of all the fucking people—
"Come on, you don't want to chat with your old friend? I missed you, you know."
Fury intensifies within Cloud at Reno's provocation. Part of him did miss the man he knew as James, and that's what makes this so awful. More than the Captain's indifference and Rufus Shinra's savage practicality, it's Reno's betrayal—James's betrayal—that mangles the strings of Cloud's heart, twisting them with a cruel hand before tearing them out. Cloud steels himself. He can't allow anything—neither nostalgia nor emotions—to keep him from getting out of here. As silently as possible, he grabs his knife and pulls the blade out. This won't be easy—he's not used to fighting with his left arm, but the right one dangles as his side, the bullet wound having disabling it. The ache from his injuries is a burning throb, lessened by adrenaline, and Cloud prays it'll be enough to push through this fight.
"Cloud, buddy, you know you can't hide forever."
Cloud listens, trying to discern whether Reno is close enough, but the alarm makes this impossible. He holds his breath and crouches, waiting for Reno to appear.
"Heard you got Sephiroth—good job. I hated that—"
Reno whirls around the corner, ready to fire, at the same time that Cloud rams into him, sending them both to the floor in a heap. A gunshot echoes in the space. Cloud rolls unto his knees and up, flinching at the fresh outburst of pain that snakes through his abdomen. Reno snatches his gun off the floor and makes to stand—but loses his balance, having one foot on the verge of the stairs. With enough force to send him tumbling down the stairs, Cloud kicks him in the stomach. A sickening noise resounds as Reno lands on the mid-level landing. One of his legs lies at an unnatural angle; it drags behind him as he crawls away from the stairs.
Cloud hisses as he applies pressure unto his abdomen; blood flows through his fingers. He approaches a moaning Reno who sits against the way; he recoils as Cloud gets closer.
"Buddy—hey, hey, Cloud—don't, please—" Reno tries to back away, but has nowhere to go.
There's a fragment of Cloud's mind that regrets this; that wants to speak with Reno one last time, an occasion to pull out the truth from him. But he doesn't—he only removes his blood-drenched hand away from his wound and grips his knife firmly.
"Buddy, no, no—Cloud, don't—buddy—"
Cloud drags his knife across Reno's throat; his words end in a gurgle. Blood sprays into Cloud's face, coating the last parts of him that had stayed unmarked. The jagged cut is only deep enough for Reno's life to slowly, cruelly trickle out of him; he chokes as blood fills his mouth, and it drips over his chin. With one last glance at him, Cloud carries on down the stairs.
The adrenaline that had been fueling him dissipates the closer he gets to the exit—six flights left, four, three—and the pain from the bullet wounds makes itself known at last. Cloud holds on as best as he can—make it out, he just has to make it out, and then—
He smacks into the emergency door leading outside; the icy air is a shock, but not enough to bring him out of his daze. The door clangs shut behind him. Cloud walks away, not wanting to be found again. The farther he goes, the colder it gets, and soon he shivers. This exit out of Shinra Tower leads into what appears to be the streets of Sector 3. From the noise emanating from Cloud's left, he can tell something is happening, and he recalls the crowd he'd spotted through the window. Crowds mean soldiers, right? He shouldn't head that way. Distant gunfire alarms him; he tries to go faster, reaching a bigger street. What he sees has him stop in his tracks.
This can't—Cloud blinks, thinking the blood loss might be making him delusional, but no, this is real. Dozens of bodies lay on the street, all of them wearing civilian clothes; some rest on top of others as if soldiers opened fire on the crowd. At the end of the street, nearer to the Tower, people wrestle with soldiers, and Cloud winces as one shoots into the thick of the riot, inciting others to do the same. The air gets frostier; snow drifts down, softly covering the dead. Not overthinking this, Cloud walks to a man lying over two bodies and takes his coat. It's too big, swallowing him, but all that matters is that it'll keep him warm. Cloud releases a shaky breath, his heartbeat speeding up as he takes off into a side street, away from the fighting—after tonight, he's had enough of that to last him a lifetime.
His sense of direction gets confounded as he twists and turns through streets and alleys, trying to get to the Avalanche safe house they designed as their meet-up spot. But soon his vision blurs, his gunshot wounds burn from the inside out, and bursts of nausea have him stop walking to regain his composure. Blood continues seeping from his injuries, mostly the one in his abdomen; he wonders if burning his flesh to seal the wound might work. His grasp on his ability is frail, and it escapes him at every turn. Cloud walks on when it becomes obvious he won't be able to muster his flames.
It's chilly despite the stolen coat—and it occurs to Cloud that it might be him that's cold. He doesn't know where he's going anymore; all streets and alleys look the same. The dizziness he was experiencing before soars to new heights, and Cloud collapses against a wall once it becomes too much to bear. Harsh groans of pain get away from him as he sits down. He dares a glance at his abdomen; the black clothes hide most of the blood, but the wetness of the shirt and the constant flow of blood give away the direness of his situation.
A feeling akin to anxiety builds deep within Cloud, expanding until his body trembles from the realization that he might be dying. From far away, screams and gunfire quieten to a lullaby. His eyelids drift half-closed as his vision fogs up and everything appears surreal. Spectral soldiers dance in the shadows, teasing him with the promise of pain; colors brighten to an overpowering extent. Shutting his eyes becomes tempting, but Cloud forces them open.
He is dying, isn't he? It feels like he's dying, and the realization chokes Cloud in a vicious grip. It obstructs his airway until his breathing evolves into gasping pants. His thoughts spiral out of control, disorganizing until they're indistinguishable and the only thing left is a burning mass of regrets. Names and memories blur together—the faint impression that he didn't fulfill a promise shines before fizzling out into nothingness.
Cloud sees one of the rippling shadows move forward, detaching itself from the rest. The figure stays where it stopped, its face obscured; Cloud's spotty vision only catches on the flash of blue in the shadow's eyes.
Zack? Is that...? Cloud tries to say the words, but his strength fails him even now, and instead, blood fills his mouth, choking him. Everything becomes too much—too bright, too dark, too harsh—and Cloud hisses through the pain. Enough, enough, enough.
The shadow drifts, coming forward—a child extending his hand, the gesture achingly familiar.
Hey Zack, Cloud thinks. You've come to take me home, haven't you?
His head falls back, his eyes close—and Cloud finally allows himself to rest.
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