Denzel awoke with a hand pressed to his chest. A woman's hand. He bolted upright. Then he recognized her.
"Yuffie?"
Panic fled into relief. He looked around. He was lying on a cot in a plain concrete room. There were no windows or other furnishings.
"Are you okay?" Yuffie asked. "Did he hurt you?"
Fragments were returning. A dead body in an alleyway. Sitting at a bar. And that terrible nausea. The heat in his veins. And—
"Cloud!"
It all came back: the poison, the betrayal, that treacherous bartender.
"Yes. Did he hurt you?" Yuffie repeated.
"No. No, we were at this bar," he recounted, "and I think I was poisoned. Cloud may have been poisoned too. He was with me. Did you see him? We have to help him!"
But he stood up too fast and paused with one hand on the wall while his vision blotted out. When he looked back at Yuffie, she didn't seem concerned.
"He needs our help," Denzel reiterated. "Don't you understand? Someone poisoned us!"
Yuffie wasn't responding like he thought she should.
"I know…" she said at last. "And I'm sorry. I had no idea you were with him. That should never have happened to you."
Then it clicked. Godo. The masked men. Cloud said they were from Wutai. And now Yuffie standing here... He pulled away from her.
"You poisoned him!" he whispered in shock.
She let out a long breath.
"Yes, we did," she replied. "But I never meant for you to be harmed."
"Why?" He could not conceal his disgust. "Why would you hurt him?"
"What exactly do you know about Cloud?" she countered. "Why were you with him?"
Now Yuffie was the antagonist. He couldn't trust her if she was with those masked men who attacked him in the streets.
"What's going on?" he demanded, low and frightened. "Is Cloud okay?"
He thought at first she wouldn't tell him. Her hesitation was palpable. He decided to go first, offer information in exchange.
"I was in Junon because I was looking specifically for Cloud. I… I wanted to bring him back to Marlene. She misses him."
It sounded so childish in light of everything else. Yuffie narrowed her eyes.
"Don't you realize how much danger you've put yourself in?" she chided. "I'm putting you on the next airship to Kalm once it's safe enough. Promise me you won't go to Cloud again."
"Why? You need to tell me."
"Because he's… he's…" She paused and started again. "He runs a network of mercenaries that specializes in contract killings, and many of those mercs traffic mako from Wutai. His reputation is beyond scary. The intel we've received through countless months of espionage suggest that Cloud is the brutal head of this organization centered in Junon. The stories we've heard... He's responsible for inhuman levels of torture and—"
"No. No, he saved me. Those stories can't be true," Denzel interjected. The man who'd lifted him out of the drugs and pain and saved him from the assassin with the needle-grin could not possibly be this person Yuffie was describing.
Except it kinda made sense, a voice echoed in his head. At the cafe, he'd seen Cloud accept an envelope from a frightened woman. Was she paying for a hit? And in that basement, Cloud had killed that helpless man without hesitation. He'd been talking about mako and a contract...
"No," he said again, denying it even as his mind accepted the possibility. "No, you're wrong. Cloud rescued me. He protected me."
The argument was weak, and Denzel knew it. She would not be convinced.
"Tell yourself whatever you want," she exhaled. "I have to go. You're free to leave, if you want, but I strongly suggest you remain here until I can accompany you to the airship terminal and put you on a flight home."
And with that, he was alone.
He considered staying put, as Yuffie had requested, but he kept thinking about Cloud and worrying that Yuffie had done something terrible to him. It was his fault that Cloud had even been in that bar to begin with, and now he felt responsible for their adversity.
He tested the doorknob. Unlocked. So he truly was free to go.
He peeked out. A long corridor stretched in either direction. It looked like he was in a hospital, but one deserted and in grave disrepair. The tiled floors were dirty and cracked, and paint peeled off the walls. Everything was bare, stripped of equipment and signage.
He ventured down the hall, instinctively avoiding any masked guards, hiding into shadowed doorways until they passed. He didn't know where he was going, and the corridors were like a maze. He began to doubt whether he should just go back to his room, if he could find it again, and await Yuffie's help returning to Kalm.
Then he spotted a glimmer of something shiny through a cracked door. He slid through into a small storage room, and resting on the table was a massive sheathed sword.
It was unmistakably Cloud's weapon.
His pulse sped up. That meant Cloud was here, at the hospital. Or, it was a strong indicator, at least.
Fueled with new resolve, Denzel went back into the hallway, determined to find Cloud. He had to confirm that Cloud was okay. But this was no easy task. He went deeper into the hospital, getting very lost, finding nothing but empty rooms and locked doors.
Then, he heard a shout from a stairwell, from the flight below. An angry voice, and it sounded like Yuffie.
He inched down the stairs, listening.
"I told you not to hurt him," she was saying. "He's under my protection until my father arrives. Then we will determine how to deal with him. Not one second earlier!"
Denzel shrank against the wall, waiting until the footsteps disappeared. When he glimpsed out, he saw Yuffie walking away at the far end of the hall accompanied by two masked guards. There was a solid metal door near where he thought they'd been arguing. His adrenaline quickened.
She disappeared, and he approached the door. It was a simple deadbolt, easy to turn from the outside. No key. He found this strange, but the mechanism appeared freshly installed, as if in a hurry. He released it and creaked the door open.
Within was a room with high ceilings, barred windows near the top of one wall cast dim white light through a thousand dust particles. The floor was dark and filthy. The walls were bare and mottled with scrapes.
Denzel almost didn't see him at first, he lay so still, collapsed on the ground.
"Cloud!" Denzel rushed in, shutting the door behind him.
Cloud didn't move. His body was facing away from the door, head limp, arms restrained by a metal chain locked to the floor. It was intense. Denzel began to panic.
He knelt in front of Cloud, taken aback by the damage he was not expecting to see. Cloud's face was bruised. Blood trailed from a split lip, and a puncture wound in his shoulder leaked openly. Denzel touched his arm, to wake him, and his fingers came away red and wet. The fabric of Cloud's sleeve was doused.
It shocked Denzel. All this time he'd been wanting to see Cloud hurt, been fantasizing about it through his anger and resentment, but now that he was faced with the reality of it, he didn't feel good at all. He felt sick and frightened. He panicked at the thought of Cloud never waking up.
"Cloud…?" Denzel shook him slightly. "Cloud, wake up!"
Cloud groaned and opened an eye. Then he saw Denzel and tried to sit up. The chains kept his hands pinned to the ground. He coughed and grimaced.
"I thought you were Yuffie…" Cloud said in a feeble voice. Then he cleared his throat, blood trickling down his chin, and he became more stern. "What are you doing here? I thought I told you to go home."
The sudden reprimand took Denzel aback.
"You need to leave," Cloud continued, a little woozy. "Right now. Get out of here. Ask Yuffie to take you home. I mean it."
"But you need help!"
It seemed obvious to Denzel, but Cloud was far more concerned with Denzel's welfare than his own.
"I don't need help," Cloud replied. "I'm fine."
But even as he said this blood oozed from the shoulder wound, and he rested back onto the floor, exhausted. He was not fine.
Denzel fiddled with the restraints, but the metal was bolted tight and the coil was thick. It was impossible to untie or break without a very sharp weapon.
"Your sword!" he exclaimed, getting a great idea. "I-I-I saw it! I can go get it and cut you free."
Cloud didn't respond, and for a moment Denzel thought he'd fallen back asleep because his eyes were closed.
"Where did you see the sword?" Cloud asked at length, his tone no longer frustrated.
Denzel struggled to remember. Which exact corridor had that been? He'd spent so long wandering that he didn't really know.
"Upstairs," he responded, masking his uncertainty. "I'll be right back."
Cloud's injuries weren't superficial, Denzel knew that much. The puncture wasn't coagulating and Cloud was ashy pale. He had to hurry.
"Wait," Cloud said just as he reached the door. "The sword. You can't carry the whole thing."
Denzel considered this. It was likely true. If anything, he'd need to drag it and that would attract attention.
"Do you remember how to release the blades? If you just remove one, that would be enough."
But Cloud had never shown him how to do this when they used to train together in Edge. Cloud would remove the swords himself and hand one over, not allowing Denzel to touch the assembly. Too dangerous, he'd been told.
"No, I don't think—" But Denzel paused mid-sentence because there were footsteps approaching in the hall. Boots clicking on tile. "Shit, I have to go. I'll be back. Don't worry, Cloud. I'll get you out of here!"
He slipped outside quick and ran on his toes to the stairwell just as the boots turned the corner into view. Had he been a microsecond earlier, he'd been spotted. Without delay, he ascended.
Below he overheard the voices of guards. Godo was arriving soon. There were preparations to make.
This meant he was running out of time. Think, think, think, he ordered himself. Retrace steps back to that storage room. He visualized the door and crept down the halls, searching for it.
It took far too long, but at last he was there.
Inside the storage room, he stood in front of the enormous weapon. He grasped the hilt and pulled. The steel slid out, bluish and deadly.
Cloud takes this thing apart all the time, he reasoned, even during battle. It couldn't be that difficult. He examined the base. Nothing. No switches or releases. It looked seamless, yet he knew there had to be some trick.
Commotion broke out in the hallway. Boots rushed past. Then silence again.
Fuck it, he'd drag the whole thing back to Cloud and then Cloud could just tell him how to do it. That would take less time at this point. He grabbed the hilt, intending to re-sheath the blade, but it was heavy and his hands slipped, twisting the handle.
And the entire sword popped open like a claw. The nestled blades were suddenly accessible. He had no idea how he'd done it, but he didn't care. He grabbed a smaller sword, flipped forward the hilt like he'd seen Cloud do, and he was armed.
He scurried downstairs, hiding twice more to avoid guards. The sword gave him power, like he'd solved a great mystery and now had the badge to prove it. But when he finally got back to Cloud's cell, the door was already open. He rushed to it.
Cloud was gone. Droplets of blood trailed into the hall then vanished with no indication of where he'd been taken.
"No…" His heart sank then buoyed his determination.
No, he couldn't give up. He had the sword and he had to help Cloud. He picked a direction. His nerves were fire, and his stomach was jelly, but he didn't care. He had to keep going.
As he rounded the next corner, a lone masked guard coming the other direction spotted him.
"Hey, kid! You can't be down here."
Denzel held the sword tighter. Fear crept over him. Almost unbearable.
"I have orders to clear this floor," the guard continued, resting a hand on his katana. "Get back upstairs. Don't be stupid."
Denzel didn't move. All his energy was focused on keeping the blade steady in his hands.
"Get out of here, kid. Are you deaf?"
The guard drew his weapon.
"Drop it," he warned, stepping closer to Denzel.
Cloud's sword gleamed under the harsh lights. The guard was very close, reaching out with one hand, to take the sword away from Denzel as calmly as possible.
Denzel's muscles tensed. His hands stopped shaking. The sword cut forward, slicing through the outstretched arm of the guard. The guard screamed, and a dismembered hand fell with a wet thud. Blood gushed out. Violence darkened the guard's face as he lunged forward, katana poised to kill.
Cloud's sword went up at the last millisecond to deflect the attack. The weapons clashed. The smell of fresh blood made Denzel feel sick. It had been so easy, the way Cloud's sword had cut through flesh and bone like nothing.
His opponent was damaged but not down. It was a miracle Denzel hadn't been cut open yet, but the loss of a hand put the guard at a distinct disadvantage.
Run, a voice told him. Just run.
And he obeyed, running as fast as he could past the guard. Boots echoed in pursuit. He didn't stop. He couldn't. Cloud needed him.
A gunshot popped far away, echoing in the corridors. He wasn't sure which direction it had come from. He paused at an intersection of halls, hopelessly turned around. Was he going in circles?
Three more uniformed men appeared, weapons out. Denzel didn't stick around to see how they would treat him. He ran again, feet pounding, lungs burning. The footsteps followed.
He burst through a set of double doors, and then despair swallowed him.
It was a dead end. No windows. No doors. And the pursuers were closing in. He'd somehow managed to get himself completely cornered.