Wutai looked like a place at war with itself. Clean organized streets in the new districts gave way to disjointed narrow paths. Glass structures sat next to intricate old stone and woodwork, magnificently painted yet fading. A result of the Lifestream destroying half the town, Denzel heard.
There were two main squares, and he was presently stationed in the old one amongst the thicket of merchant stands. His eyes were glued on the ancient palace, looming over the square, a stretching pagoda lucky to escape the destruction. He'd been watching the building all morning. The perimeter walls were tall, sleek stone, thick and impossible to scale without rope or a ladder, both of which was out of the question to remain inconspicuous.
He took note as two uniformed soldiers approached from the rear of the security wall and relieved the pair who stood at the front. Reconnaissance was a careful part of any plan. Observation meant information, and information was crucial for obtaining a complete picture before rushing into action. He imagined this was what Cloud would do.
The troopers walked around the exterior of the palace walls. Denzel strolled adjacent, keeping the guards in sight.
He had to get inside. That was the first step. Where Cloud excelled at pure strength, perhaps he could show his worth by slipping through enemy lines undetected and getting what he wanted without confrontation.
The rear of the palace had a second gate, secured with a mechanical lock. The guards didn't notice Denzel. One of them unlocked the gate with an old-fashioned key. Denzel crept forward, planning to catch the gate before it shut entirely, but just as he was about to lunge for it, a trooper turned and saw him.
"What are you doing, kid? This area is off limits."
Denzel tried to think fast. He made up a story about wanting to join the Leviathan soldiers, massaging their ego while he tried to think of a way to keep that gate from closing. The guards chatted him up, telling him about their strict training regiments and offering that Denzel looked a bit too scrawny to join their ranks. Godo only selected the finest, the fittest. Denzel nodded along, noticing the small rocks that had fallen from this side of the wall. If he could just wedge one of the bigger ones beneath the gate before it locked, he could throw the hinges off-balance.
The guards were winding down the conversation, suggesting Denzel attend an information session on the dangers of mako, and Denzel threw himself forward into exaggerated thankfulness, kicking dust and rocks forward surreptitiously as he shook the guard's hand and bowed deep.
"Thank you, sir, for your service to Wutai!" Denzel exclaimed, eyes locked on the ground.
The rocks hadn't quite made it under the gate, so he slid forward and grabbed the other guard's arm, too, in a firm handshake. The troopers waved politely and withdrew, shutting the gate behind them. The lock slid securely into place, but a small rock was forcing the frame off-center. Denzel gave no reaction.
After the guards had left, Denzel hopped up and checked the hinge.
Sure enough, it was off-balance. He used his sword as leverage to pop the bottom hinge off then slid beneath the gate, feeling the rusty bottom prongs tearing his jacket, scratching his skin. It was barely enough space. The iron creaked. The sword wavered, but it did not fail.
At last he was through. He pulled the sword out, and the gate creaked back into place. But he didn't plan to escape this way. He was going to walk right out through the front door with a tour group when he was done.
The palace was not heavily secured. It was an ancient fortification, but in modern times the grounds were a tourist attraction. Godo did live here so there were troops stationed, but it was easy to sneak by unnoticed. He scaled the rear exterior of the main pagoda and climbed through a window on the second floor.
His toes rested without noise on the wooden floor. The room he'd entered had a lavish seating area with plush red and golden cushions, artifacts lit within display cases, and an engraved table depicting a hunting scene. A gaudy chandelier was lit. Large satin drapes hung around the open window.
Now he just needed to find the perfect place to plant the mako. His brilliant plan was to leave it somewhere no tourists or nosey guards could get to, somewhere only Godo himself could have access, incriminating the troopers charged with protecting the palace. Godo would not be able to ignore such a threat close to his home.
Suddenly, footsteps creaked in the hallway. Denzel hid behind the long drapes just as the door opened. Two people entered with a clink of glasses on a tray.
"So we plate the service now. He is worried about eavesdropping."
Denzel peeked out. Two servants were putting down tea service around the table.
"And what's this bottle?" one asked.
"Local whiskey from the Commander's personal stash. The Commander requested it for this meeting. Perhaps he intends to give it as a gift to his Lordship. I do not know."
Denzel's ears perked up. The Commander was the original person he was trying to frame in Gongaga.
"Should we not be concerned with gifts? What if the Commander tries to…?"
"Not to worry. His Lordship doesn't eat or drink anything that doesn't come straight from our kitchen or labs without first testing it. He is terribly paranoid."
Denzel plotted. This could be the perfect opportunity to plant the mako and incriminate the Commander.
The servants soon finished their task and departed. Steam rose from the teapot. Godo and his Commander would be here soon, so there wasn't much time.
He took the mako capsules from his pocket and stepped over to the table. He split open one of the capsules, spilling light green powder into his palm. It had a faint metallic odor. His eyes rested on the bottle of whiskey.
Yes, this was from the Commander's personal supply. If he gave it to Godo as a gift and Godo tested it and found mako within, he would have no choice but to believe that the Commander was trying to slip him the drugs. If nothing else, it will raise a myriad of questions and keep Godo's focus away from Junon, at least temporarily. That would give Cloud time to come up with a more permanent solution to Godo's meddling.
Denzel pried off the top of the bottle and emptied the powder in. The bitter scent of alcohol completely masked any odor from the pills. He repeated the process with all of the remaining mako pills, dissolving each into the whiskey, then he put the bottle back exactly as he'd found it, thanking whatever gods had bestowed such good luck.
He climbed through the window and descended onto the grounds outside. Now he just needed to remain in the shadows until the next tour group was allowed in. He finally relaxed. His nerves had been on edge since landing in Wutai, and now at last he had accomplished his mission.
Well, almost. It would take time for this plan to produce results, if it worked. Cloud would be proud, he hoped.
He just had to find Cloud now, somewhere in Wutai. This is exactly why Denzel wanted his own phone, a request Cloud denied at first. The reluctancy had unclear origins. Cloud seemed to think a PHS meant that Denzel would be less careful with his whereabouts, that enemies could co-opt the device if Denzel were ever targeted.
"Besides," Cloud had said, as if to settle the matter, "You shouldn't be going anywhere without me knowing about it first."
It was a weak argument, but Cloud often treated his own phone with strange paranoia, as if it were a liability to be reachable by others. So Denzel kept asking, begging, until Cloud relented. He promised to buy Denzel a phone for his birthday, which was still two weeks away.
Great help that was now, he thought sourly.
The next tour group entered the front gates, and he slipped in. When the tour was over Denzel was happily released into the city once more.
He headed back to the market. The gil from the dead man in Gongaga was running low. If he didn't find Cloud, he'd need to take an airship home to Junon tonight. But he wasn't sure exactly how to go about looking for Cloud. He had no idea what Cloud was doing in Wutai. It had to be something serious and dangerous. Perhaps it was best to just go home to Junon. Interrupting Cloud on business here suddenly didn't seem so wise.
So he decided to spend the rest of the afternoon in the market, enjoying the sun, the mountain breeze, and the fresh air, then return to Junon that night. It felt good to be independent in a foreign city, on a mission. He'd done so many new and interesting things since leaving Kalm. He missed Marlene, but his life was exciting now, and more importantly his mind was occupied in the present. He no longer felt the haunts of the past or the troubles of the future looming over his heart. It was...refreshing.
In the early evening a lone figure caught his eye in the market. A tall skinny man with twin daggers sheathed at his belt.
It was Dax. Cloud's violent subordinate.
Denzel's chest burned with jealousy and hatred. But if Dax was here, then surely he was with Cloud. Denzel scanned the surroundings. No sign of the blonde. But at the very least, Dax must know where Cloud is.
The assassin was buying roast thunderbird from a vendor, smiling as he received a kebab dripping with juices.
Denzel paused on the verge of calling out. This man was his best bet to finding Cloud yet something held his tongue. It wasn't fear, exactly. He watched Dax pay for the kebab then skulk through the market, lanky and distinctly foreign. He followed, keeping a wide distance. Perhaps Dax would simply lead him to Cloud and then he wouldn't even have to talk to the man.
Dax exited the square, taking a tangle of backroads through old Wutai. At each crossroads he paused, as if unsure of the route. He did this several times, until Denzel was sure Dax was lost.
They'd entered the less affluent part of the city, dotted with rundown shops, boarded-up windows, and abandoned husks of buildings. Gone were the intricate pagodas and brilliantly painted wood carvings from the tourist areas, and the streets were far less populated. Denzel began to feel a little exposed, and they were definitely going in circles.
Suddenly, he turned the corner and Dax was gone.
Denzel looked all around in confusion. The associate had vanished. Denzel doubled-back, thinking he'd made a wrong turn somewhere, but he couldn't pick up the trail again. He leaned against a shuttered storefront, disappointed.
Suddenly, a rough hand grabbed his collar, abrupt and violent.
"You!" Dax snarled, shoving him against the building. "Why are you following me?"
Impossible! How did Dax manage to sneak up on him like this? A wave of fear crawled under his skin. He stammered an unintelligible reply.
Dax glared and slammed Denzel against the metal shutters, one bony fist pulling the fabric of Denzel's jacket tight around his throat.
"I'm gettin' real tired of you, kid," the assassin hissed.
"I-I-I'm here to see Cloud," Denzel choked.
Dax threw him hard into the dirt. Denzel coughed, and pain ricocheted along his ribs.
"Yeah? Well, the boss is busy."
"He… he would want to see me."
"I don't think so, kid. Not today. Now get lost."
Denzel struggled to his feet, feeling a bruise branch along his side. He had to be brave. He had to convey the urgency of this mission without revealing any details. He didn't know if Dax could be trusted nor if Cloud had let anyone else in on this particular scheme.
"Tell him I'm here," Denzel demanded. "He'll want to see me."
The assassin gave him a long cold look.
"No. He really wouldn't. So just run on home to Junon. Wait for him there like a good little puppy."
Dax began to walk away, but Denzel couldn't allow the conversation to end.
"It's urgent," Denzel insisted, keeping pace.
"Like I said, he's busy."
"Then tell me where he is, and I'll go see him without you."
"No."
"Then just tell him I'm—"
"Look, kid," Dax snapped, pointing viciously in Denzel's face, "I don't know what your deal is with him or why you got some sorta hero worship going on, but you don't wanna know what we're doin' here. So listen to me when I tell you to just go on home."
"He'll be angry when I tell him about this."
Dax laughed. "Oh yeah? I don't think so."
"Why's that?"
"Because I know the boss, and he doesn't want to be disturbed when he's busy. Not by you or anyone."
"You don't know him the way I do."
This was precisely the wrong thing to say, but Denzel didn't realize it until half a second too late. Dax stopped. His expression grew dark and serious. The malicious grin was gone. For a moment, Denzel thought he saw a flicker of fear.
Dax's voice was low and cutting. "I know exactly the type of person he is. It's you who is mistaken, living whatever fairytale existence you've concocted in your head. You may be under his protection, temporarily, but that doesn't mean you know shit about him."
Denzel fell silent, taken aback by the sudden shift in Dax's tone and posture.
"I was there, kid." Dax leaned in, practically whispering, "the night it all went down. I saw what he did to Jude, to the others. That woman's death fucked it all up bad, and I was the only one he spared that night. To leave a message, he'd said."
This was the night of Tifa's death. Had to be. Denzel listened close.
"And when he came back to Junon, after months of everyone thinking he was dead, he was changed. I was the sole survivor again that night, spared simply because I'd been the last one standing before, and he'd remembered that. He's not like the rest of us. Do you see what I'm getting at, kid?"
"You think Cloud is…?" A madman, was the connotation, but Denzel couldn't bring himself to say it.
"I've seen him work." Dax frowned. "All I'm saying is that you don't know anything about him. So if I were you, I'd cut the hero worship and get the hell out of Wutai. I'd get out of Junon. Go far away from him. People normally don't want to cross paths with the boss."
Dax stepped back and cleared his throat.
"Now get out of my way. I have work to do."
Dax pushed him aside. Denzel seethed. He knew Cloud better than anyone living, and he hated the way Dax had spoken to him. Cloud maintained a certain attitude around his subordinates, a false pretense to invoke fear and obedience, but he wasn't like that in real life.
"You're wrong," he shouted after Dax, a little too late.
No reply. The assassin disappeared around the corner.
Denzel wasn't about to give up. He followed after a beat and peeked onto the next block. Dax was ascending a stairwell into an abandoned building at the far end of a row of derelict offices.
Dax was just jealous. Ever since that fateful meeting in Junon, there'd been bad blood between the two. Dax couldn't hurt Denzel physically so he tried to tell stories to scare him away, make him abandon Cloud. Well, it wouldn't work. He'd come to terms with who Cloud was in the aftermath of Tifa's death. He had a connection to Cloud that no other associate could ever claim.
Dax vanished within the building, and Denzel decided to follow. He entered through a broken window on the first floor, convinced that eventually Dax would meet up with Cloud. He eased himself in and looked around. The place had at one point been an office. There were cubicles covered in mold and decay from exposure to the elements, and piles of trash and vermin droppings everywhere.
"Yuk." Denzel's foot sunk into muddy liquid. He wrenched it free and pulled out his flashlight, clipping it to his jacket. Motes of dust filtered the light. Insects skittered.
What was Dax doing in a place like this? Denzel moved slow to keep his footsteps silent. Thieves had ransacked the area, and the remaining furniture was broken beyond recognition. The walls and ceilings were coated with black streaks and splotches of mold or soot.
A creak strode past on the floor above. Footsteps.
He quickened his search for an interior staircase and found it behind three more rooms of deteriorating cubicles. He took the stairs up, tip-toeing and keeping one palm over the flashlight so only the space near his feet was illuminated. He didn't want his light to give him away and had his finger poised to shut it off at any second.
But there was nobody at the top of the stairs. The second floor was a long hallway with doors on either side, some twisted off their hinges or missing completely. It was very dark. A mess of footprints had disturbed the dust. Dax wasn't alone.
Faint light shone beneath the furthest doorway. Denzel touched the doorknob, then thought better of it when he heard the low rumble of a voice on the other side.
Instead, he hid in the adjacent room, narrowly missing a row of broken glass with his boots. Oddly enough, the walls in this room weren't connected at the ceiling, leaving a small space at the top. There were latches and tracks which indicated the walls could have, at one point, been moved to make the area smaller or larger as needed. Of course, the tracks were long rusted into a permanent position now.
But he could see flickering light stretch across the ceiling, spilling through the space at the top of the wall. A stack of broken furniture against the corner wall looked sturdy enough for Denzel to climb up to maybe get a peek at the other side.
A moan of pain suddenly carried over, long and distraught. Denzel clicked off his flashlight.
Then he heard Dax in a low voice.
"I don't know much about materia. You've been quite the test subject."
Denzel climbed the pile of rotting wood and fabric, compacted for so long that a sheen of fungus grew over it like a blanket, taking extra care to make as little noise as possible.
"Oh, I like this one," Dax continued. "Paralysis is a bonus. No more squirming. But I know you aren't numb."
Silence, and then a muffled scream trapped in a throat.
Dax laughed. "If you think this is bad, just wait 'til the boss gets here."
Denzel reached the top and leaned against the wall, peering through the wedge of space.
A lantern burned on a small table, casting shadows all around a cluttered room. An area had been cleared of debris and in the center was a woman tied to a chair, slumped over and breathing heavy. Her mouth was gagged with a red bandana.
Dim light threw dark circles under Dax's eyes as he grinned at her, holding a dagger slick with blood. Behind him was a stack of materia, green shimmering orbs, perhaps half a dozen. This was far more than Denzel had seen in a long time. After Meteor, materia usage had practically evaporated. No new materia was being excavated and there was no more manufactured materia either. Every materia shop was pretty much just second-hand goods. So what was Dax doing with a stash like this?
Dax wiped his blade across the woman's shoulder and picked up a materia.
"I admit I'm not that great at using these. Never officially learned much outside of basic training. But I like the way they feel. That rush of… what is that, exactly?"
The woman didn't acknowledge him. Blood dripped beneath her. She writhed.
"It doesn't matter," Dax went on, "I'm sure one of these will eventually convince you to talk."
Denzel realized what he was witnessing and why Dax had been trying to scare him off. This was a violent interrogation, plain and simple. He'd never actually considered what associates might do to obtain information, to coerce the unwilling.
The woman was trying to say something.
"What was that?" Dax mocked. He pulled the bandana down from her mouth.
"Y...You'll re...regret this. All….of...this…" she croaked through dry lips.
Denzel's blood froze. He recognized that voice. It was Yuffie!
"Ah, I see you aren't ready yet, princess," Dax chuckled, replacing the gag. "But you will be. I'm just the warm-up. And when the boss gets here, you will break. Everyone does. That's his… talent."
Denzel could scarcely breathe, could scarcely think. Darkness threatened the edges of his vision as blood plummeted to his feet. Adrenaline pumped furiously to no avail. Icy tendrils forked through his veins. He had to do something. He had to help her! But his tongue was numb, his mouth dry, his senses fading. No, get a hold of yourself, he chastised. A sickness churned in his belly, coiling up his throat. He wanted to yell out right then and there for Dax to stop, that she was a friend, but his body was paralyzed.
He knew yelling wouldn't help Yuffie. Dax was dangerous, a hair trigger away from simply killing Denzel despite Cloud's protections, he was sure of it. He had to think fast.
"Oh, don't lose consciousness yet," Dax cooed. "I thought the leader of the Leviathans, the proud daughter of Godo Kisaragi, would be stronger than this."
Dax let out a disappointed sigh.
"Turns out you're nothing special. Just a sad little girl. And at the end of today, if you don't tell me what I need to know, all you'll be is a sad little pile of meat and bones on the doorstep of the palace."
The cruelty in his voice was punctuated by a muffled scream and then a stream of cries shook Denzel to the core. He had to get Dax away from her, create a distraction.
"Gotta keep you awake for the boss. You're my special surprise for him."
Denzel frantically looked around for something to help him. He could make noise to disrupt the brutal scene, but he didn't want Dax to come over to him specifically. He needed to do something to get Dax out of the building so that he could free Yuffie.
"So. Do we try materia again?"
Sudden heavy boots echoed along the floorboards, coming up the stairs in the hall. Denzel shrunk in the darkness of his hiding place.
Dax heard the footsteps, too. He withdrew from Yuffie and placed the materia on the floor. Her head rolled to her chest, muscles limp and her breathing short and pained.
"Ah, he's early. Lucky you."
Dax opened the door and lamplight spilled into the hallway, scarcely breaching the darkness.
The footsteps approached in a casual, almost tired, pace.
Denzel felt certain this was Cloud, had to be—there was no other person that could be Dax's boss. He should have felt relieved, for there was no way Cloud would allow Yuffie to be treated this way, but instead the tension in his chest got worse. He craned his neck to glimpse the doorway. No light accompanied the newcomer. Dax waited, arms crossed.
Two eyes, dimly luminescent, appeared first, a cold Mako blue like pale ghosts. Then a figure emerged, pausing in the doorway. It was Cloud, but Denzel had never seen him like this before. He wore a mask concealing the lower half of his face, and his clothing was a thick type of black flexible armor. In the low lighting, the hilt on Cloud's back looked like an unnatural bone protruding from one shoulder, broken.
"Boss." Dax bowed.
Cloud entered but said nothing. Yuffie hadn't noticed his presence, her head still hanging, a mess of dark hair matted over her face.
Denzel's throat felt tight, his entire body prickled with heat. This was it. Cloud would recognize her and be furious with Dax. This was unforgivable. Dax would be cast out for a transgression like this.
"A gift for you," Dax continued, gesturing towards the bound woman, "There is vital information here. The companion didn't fare so well."
Dax motioned to the corner where Denzel noticed for the first time a body lying half-concealed beyond the reach of the light. A Leviathan trooper. Dead.
Cloud removed his mask and rubbed his cheek, massaging the muscles of his jaw. He looked exhausted. He scarcely glanced at the captive.
Dax went on, voice wavering a tad.
"I… I'm sure you will get the information. I figured you would want me to save this part for you."
Cloud nodded, and Dax stepped closer to him, body language submissive as a servant. Denzel wasn't sure if Cloud had actually said anything, but Dax reacted as if an order had been given. The assassin bowed and left the room, switching on his personal flashlight. His footsteps disappeared down the hall.
Yuffie struggled weakly, forcing shallow breaths through the gag, her chest fluttering like a terrified bird. She didn't seem aware that Dax had left or that a newcomer had arrived. She looked barely cognizant.
Cloud hadn't given the bound woman any attention whatsoever. He put his hands on his hips and rolled tension from one shoulder. He took off the massive weapon, letting it rest on the table, and placed the lantern on the floor, spilling a whole host of new shadows across the room. Denzel could clearly see the body of Yuffie's companion now, dismembered and slick with gore, the severed spinal column glistening. His stomach squirmed. No, please don't puke now, he begged himself.
But it would all be over soon. Dax was gone. Yuffie would momentarily be safe.
Yet still Denzel didn't call out to Cloud or reveal his position. Something made him pause. A strange dread overcame his logic and denied his body any movement.
Cloud unsheathed the weapon and began removing the swords one by one, shifting the hilts between his fingers with the tip resting on the ground, unhinging and then clicking each back into place in a slow steady rhythm. Back and forth. The sound of the steel blades sliding against one another was grating in the silence. Terrifying even. Yuffie moaned on the edge of consciousness. Blood pooled from the gashes along her exposed ribs, gleaming. The skin of her left arm was flayed, rivulets of blood beaded along red muscle, the shredded fabric of her uniform dark and wet. The horror of what Dax had done to her drove Denzel into a silent frenzy, full of hatred. He wanted desperately to act, to condemn Dax outright, to scream out for Cloud's help, but his paralysis was absolute.
Then the clicking blades stopped. Cloud had paused. He stared over at the pile of materia. He reached down and picked one up, holding it with an odd sort of reverence.
At last, he looked over at the prisoner.
Denzel held his breath, heart pounding in his head.
Yes, this was it. It would all be over soon. Denzel repeated it in his head like a mantra.
This would all be over soon, and Denzel would be freed.