Cloud woke up in phases. First he was aware that light hurt his eyes, then he was aware that his eyes hurt like a thousand Cactaur needles. Then, Ice Materia straight to his brain—his head pounded like an Adamantoise kicked him in the cranium.

Rolling over with a groan, the second thing he noticed was that he wasn't in his room, and then he saw Tifa naked next to him.

He freaked.

"Holy Sh—" he shot upright.

"Hey," she threw a drowsy smile up at him.

"Ohmygod, ohmygod, um, um."

"What's wrong?" she sat up now too. But he jumped out of bed wrapping a sheet around his waist.

"Oh god, we hooked up didn't we?"

"Hooked up? What the hell is wrong with you?"

She got up out of bed after him, but he averted his eyes. He threw his hands up harmless and stammering.

"Look, Tifa, we were drunk—"

"You had one shot!" She bore into him with shocked eyes. "Don't you remember what you said to me? Don't you remember anything? Don't you care?"

Cloud just stood there frozen, speechless like she'd shoved a wad of cotton in his mouth. He tried to speak, couldn't speak, couldn't even breathe. A flash of pain crossed her eyes, a sharp dagger into his heart. She grabbed her clothes in a bundle and ran out of the room crying.

Dazed. He still wasn't sure what had happened. His heartrate skyrocketed, he clutched at the side of his head. He didn't feel like himself, nothing was right, and if his brain didn't explode from the jabbing pain he was going to kill himself.

He grabbed his pants, patting the pockets. What did he need? He needed something in the worst way, something that would make his heart stop pounding. Then, he found his earrings, put them back on, and instantly he could breathe. Now, he felt like himself again. Now he could think about what had happened, how he ended up like this…but nothing came.

It was still the weekend. The bar would be rushed tonight almost as crazy as the previous night. This was bad.

Tifa avoided him all day, and when they jumped behind the bar together, she couldn't look at him. He pretended like nothing happened, talking to her in an emotionless monotone. Short sentences with no eye contact slit her like scorpion tails. Everyone who worked there glanced at them sidelong and then looked away. Everyone knew…something went down.

Happy hour, and the evening rush descended like slathering wild beasts. They were slammed worse than Saturday. Wedge played barback, busboy, runner and dishwasher while Tifa took point at the bar.

"This is a Jack and Coke. I asked for a Jack and Gin!"

"Sorry." Tifa took the guy's drink and mixed him another.

"Hey, you heard of this new thing called service?" someone heckled her.

"Yo! We've been waiting so long my niece became a grandmother!"

"Hey, forget that round of shots. We're leaving."

"Hel-loooo?"

Tifa dropped a Long Island Iced Tea all over the bar, then ran back into the kitchen sobbing. Cloud grabbed Wedge and threw him at the tap.

"Your time to shine, Wedge!" Then Cloud ran into the kitchen after Tifa.

He found her sobbing against the wall and threw his hands up.

"What's wrong?!"

"I can't do this. I can't. I can't."

"You have to!"

"I CAN'T!"

"What is your problem?"

"I can't just be next to you like this! I can't take it. I'm so hurt, I can't believe this!"

"Nothing happened! Forget about it!"

"No!"

"Tifa, they're going to kill us! Don't you understand? If we don't make quota, we're going to freaking die! I need you to suck it up!"

"I can't do it!"

"Please!"

She just cried in uncontrollable gasps. Now Cloud realized that she really was incapacitated, out for the count…the count!

"Tifa," he grabbed her by shoulders and shook her. "TIFA! Count backwards, slow, for me."

She tried, he could tell she was trying, but she just broke down in choking, shaking sobs. She was down and out, and now they were a man down during Happy Hour. He had to do something, anything, fast!

"…We'll close the bar tonight. You and me. Just us."

She stopped crying enough to look up at him. Was he serious? He bore into her with a stone gaze that could take a life. He wasn't taking it back. She got her bearing enough to stand up straight.

"Alright?" he asked, and she took a deep breath and nodded. "C'mon."

He cupped her shoulder and they rushed back out. She jumped into go-mode while he relieved Wedge at the tap.

"Let's go, kid. Faster, faster. Hustle up!"

"Hoorah, boss."

They ran rampant like battle-bots, whizzing through chores in robot-like precision, until Last Call came like a factory whistle and they sat down to count the register. Gil stacked on the table, tips thrown back into the pile, personal money emptied from wallets, Tifa sat back with a forlorn expression on her face.

"…We didn't make quota."

A communal slump followed, like the whole world hung its head. Cloud just got up and stormed into the back. He didn't want anyone to see him rubbing his eyes.

With nothing left to be done, she cleaned up and sent everyone home. Wedge gave her $10 and said it was from Cloud, and Barrett put his good hand on her shoulder before heading downstairs.

"Wasn't yer fault, girl."

She thanked him with a deep breath. Alone, the bar seemed dead in the empty quiet, so distinct from the mad rush of post-labor lamentations. She stowed away into the back, where the lights had been flicked off.

She found him in the back corridor by the cooler, leaning listless against the wall. When he saw her, he stood and faced her with all that he was as a man, a look of despair in his eyes. She went to him, and took his hand, and he pulled her into a slow, soft embrace. The brush of his strong hand against her face, nuzzling against her butterfly cheeks, the scent of salt and spirits calmed the beasts inside him. A hesitant gasp that they both shared, and they let it happen, a slow kiss that wrapped them in a flowing, aural flame. Most girls don't understand how men can separate love and sex. It's easy. If there's nothing there, then there's nothing to separate. But if there is…

Into her arms he fell that night, wrapped in her harmonic embrace. The scent of lavender and wool sheets brought calm to his chaos, and the flush of pheromones on skin set him on fire. She cried as his hips pressured hers, laying into her with the weight of his entire being. All he was in life, flowing into her like soft light, slowly fading into blue null. They burned for each other like nothing in life was more hallowed. His trembling arms wrapped around her like ropes, tying her in a spiritual knot to his soul. He held her fast against the dying night.

But he didn't fall asleep next to her. He lay awake with her head nestled in the bend of his arm, gazing out into distant nowhere. She looked so beautiful now, illusive calm under flowing lashes wrapped in a frizz of ravenhair. Yet her rapture couldn't quell his storm, brining like a hurricane behind glowing cyan eyes. Like a ghost, he left her there to sleep alone, and stole out into the muggy dark of Midgar's silent night.

He strolled along the dark avenues in neutral territory, kicking bits of rock and refuse with his steel-toed lug sole. His body fought him, told him to turn back, to go to her. Yet his heart assailed him with guilt, like he'd somehow been…unfaithful. To whom? A chaotic swarm in the core of his being sent him spiraling in mind and body, and he leaned against the wall of the alley with eyes turned toward a non-existent sky. No longer could he deny himself, the terror that gripped him in stillness. He was falling for his best friend.

Distant, and sad, he whispered out into the null of hazy dark.

"You can't fall in love with me. Not because you're sad, or lonely, or because I'm the only man you're close to. You can't love me like a fire escape. I can't save anyone, I can't be your hero. Don't fall for me just because you can talk to me, even though I love talking to you. I don't even know what you see in me. I'm selfish and reckless and I hate small children. I'm a wreck and a wretch. I don't even know who I am anymore. Don't choose me, find someone who deserves you. If you go with me, there's a fifty percent chance that this won't work out. I piss you off so much already, and you know what, I want to. Sometimes I piss you off just to see you catch fire. I love your energy. It makes me feel alive. If you leave now, you'll be sad for a while, but if you stay, you'll be sad for a lifetime. We'll slow dance off the Plate and fall from the sky. We'll crash and burn until the world ends. We'll watch the sun explode and always wonder why. Don't leave me in the dark. Don't let me leave you in darkness. Run away from me while you're still filled with light. Until I can love myself, please, don't say you love me."

The quiet dark of an alleyway stoked his words, snuffing him out in muffled candlelight. He slammed his head back against the wall and yelled to the durasteel Plate above.

"Send me a sign!"

And silence.

Nothing stirred for a long time, until the trilling of shuffling feet echoed in the alley. Light footsteps like dancing shoes scampered in the gravel, and Cloud looked over to see a street crawler. A young girl with a side-ponytail of strawberry hair leered past him like she was mocking him.

"Slow night, huh? Fancy bartending this side of the Slums."

Cloud shot up.

"You know me?" he asked with urgency.

"Sugar. I know everyone in lowcity."

And she danced a pirouette like a whimsical faerie. He stood stone and stoic.

"Are you a sign?"

"Maybe. Depends on what you're looking for."

"I'm looking for answers."

"Then I can help. Come with me."

Cloud hesitated as she started away.

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"You don't. Silly. That's half the fun."

She skipped down the alley, and some dark warning in his heart told him to run away. Yet, his feet moved on their own, and he followed.

She lead him down a labyrinthine row of sidestreets, to the lee side of the Wall Market that technically bordered Sector 6. There was nothing here, for anyone who didn't know what they were looking for, just a bunch of storage units with pull-down gates and the backs of Slum storefronts.

"They won't let me in," some passerby complained to a companion. "I don't got no membership."

Cloud swallowed a lump in his throat and followed her toward a closed storefront, where a huge man hung outside with crossed arms. Loiterers lingered smoking and talking, something was off about this place. She trotted up to the big man and flashed him a wink, then waved to Cloud to follow her. But two steps away from the man, he shot Cloud a glare.

"No swords."

"Um…"

"Leave it outside."

Cloud couldn't think. Then again, it's not like anyone could really steal his sword anyway, and if they somehow managed to, he figured they deserved it. He took a nervous breath, unclipped his sword and leaned it against the side wall. Alarm sirens went off in his whole body. He strode through the entryway.

Inside was a raging party. Rocktronic embolisms blared through backwalls of speakers, and all around people danced in swaying symphonic revue dressed in trashy, striped lingerie like bees. He caught up with her and called into her ear.

"Where are we?"

"Honey, we're at the Bee."

She took him by the hand, and pulled him back toward lounge tables with donut-shaped red-leather seating. Shoving him into one before he had a chance to protest, she climbed over into his lap while taking something out of her miniskirt pocket. Cloud couldn't see it well, though something told him it was a derm, but before he could get a word out, it was on her tongue which was simultaneously shoved down his throat.

Instantaneously, his vision was monochrome.

Dancer.

Her luscious tongue swept over his like candy canes. She tasted like music would taste. Cloud felt his body become weightless, his erection was rock and electrified. She ran her tongue across his teeth and pulled away from his dreamy smile. A wink, a giggle, and she darted away. He leapt up after her.

Weaving through the throng of partiers, he caught up with her against the back wall. Pressing himself against her, he groped a palm over a silken breast as she slipped a hand into his back pocket. He could tell she was fumbling for his wallet—wrong pocket, girl—so she massaged him as he ground his hips into her. Another kiss, but she bit his lip with a giggle. Then she slipped away like a spirit, and Cloud saw a sea of neon foxtails flood his vision from the dance floor.

But then the world went sideways, and nauseating vertigo hit. He stumbled back into a corner, then saw the facilities to his right. He ducked into the Men's room figuring to splash water on his face.

Inside was a graffiti nightmare. The black bold tagging moved on its own in his eyes like ants crawling on the walls. Stalls with broken doors lay on his left. At least he was alone. He took a leak at the urinal and almost flipped when he saw he was pissing blood. Side effect, he told himself. Temporary.

Staggering to the scummy sink, he tried the faucet to find that the pipes were turned off. Looking up into the scratch-marred mirror, he saw someone who looked just like him standing behind him.

"Oh Sh—!" Cloud whipped around. "Scared me."

A boy of about sixteen with blonde spikes for hair and piercing blue eyes stood before him, training a hard gaze on Cloud like he knew better than him. Cloud took a few deep breaths and ran a hand down his face. He noted the olive-drab uniform with the military emblem patch on his shoulder.

"Shinra Guard. Haven't seen your kind in a while. You with the Infantry?"

The kid gave a slow nod and spoke to cloud in a low monotone.

"I was…like you."

Cloud leaned back against the counter, trying to get a handle on the high. Sweat pooled on his brow, while a reminiscing look crossed his face.

"You got the wrong guy. I was never Infantry. I was SOLDIER."

"And now you're at a brothel on drugs. Is this what honor means to SOLDIER now?"

A scoff, and he leaned back on his arms.

"Someday you're gonna learn that honor is something made up by people in power to get you to do what they want without paying you."

"That's not what you were taught."

"Really? Alright then, smart guy, what do you know about honor?"

"I know it's the one thing you have that no one can ever take away."

"HAHAHAHA!" Cloud laughed so hard he spun around! Ended up halfway across the restroom clutching his sides.

"Why are you laughing?" asked the boy with the same stern look on his face. Cloud got a grip and faced him with a stern look of his own, one that could put any Shinra Guard down.

"Kid, they can take everything away from you! Your life, your friends, your family, even your own name! Go ask a hobo about honor, see where it got him. Look at where we're living, the slum kids selling themselves for slag, the urchins spreading filth, the gangs, the cronies, the garbage overflowing onto the people who make houses out of it, and the dead bodies in the dumpsters instead of in graves. This isn't just some videogame. You can't just reset/reload. Time to grow up. Welcome to the Slums!"

But the boy rushed up to Cloud.

"This isn't you! You're better than this! The people who taught you wanted more for you and they're ashamed of you now!"

"Hey! Angeal was a great man, and he's dead now! They're all dead!"

"You're still alive! You still have a chance!"

"Fuck off!"

"Wake up!"

He shoved Cloud back against the wall. Cloud stumbled in a rage, got his bearing, and swung a hard fist straight at the kid's face. He slammed into a bathroom stall door.

"Wait…whuh?"

No one was there. The bathroom was…empty.

"The hell?...Where the hell did he go?"

Cloud stumbled out of the bathroom in a rage. Monochrome vision turned into blurred red. The high cusp of the high was passing, and the come-down was in full vicious swing.

"Little Bastard…I'll show him. I'll show you all! I'm still alive! I'm still alive!"

He staggered out onto the floor to grab some girls, but they all saw his eyes, telltale blood-shot red rings around his irises. They laughed and shrugged him off, which only intensified his fury. Then, Cloud thought he saw him, the boy from the bathroom. He charged across the floor and turned him about.

A smallish, rake thin boy with white hair gazed up at him.

"Preference, mate?"

Cloud shoved him forward, bidding him onward, pushing him toward some steps in the back. The boy got the hint, and let Cloud grab his shoulder—pretending to be controlled. Cloud pushed him upstairs and into a side-room, then shoved him back against the door. The boy looked all of about twelve, close enough to eighteen. Cloud knew he would have to go to way scummier places to get real twelve year olds anyway.

The boy pulled a condom out of a pocket, but Cloud shoved it away and grabbed for his thin shirt instead.

"Wow, you're really gone," the boy remarked, letting Cloud tear his clothes off in a tumult. He threw him belly-down on the bed and fell on top of him, then hauled him to his knees, driving his erection against him as he undid his belt. Before the boy could even grab for lube, Cloud shoved his hips into him to make him scream, entering him with teeth bared in rage. Cloud didn't let up, this guy was a professional, so he raw-dogged him in rhythmic slamming, dominating his small frame with his muscled physique. He gave all of two damns about the fake moaning the boy screamed in agony.

"SHUTUP!" Cloud yelled, and the moaning stopped. Now Cloud bore down on him, driving him flat to the bed, drilling him in powerful thrusts that pulled the sheets from under them. He tried to relax, though his mind was gone. He didn't feel anything at all, running completely on autopilot as he pounded another guy's pubescent backside into oblivion.

Then, the door slammed open, and a gang of barrel-chested shirtless men burst in like a riot. Cloud was balls-deep when he looked up to meet a hard fist slamming into his face. He realized horrified that his limbs were like jelly, and he flopped like a rubber fish onto the ground. The big brawlers punched and kicked him until he spit blood. Someone grabbed his collar and yanked him up.

"Get his wallet!" one of them yelled.

"Get his pants!" called another, and that's when Cloud fought for his life. He flailed like a child as his legs were grabbed. Weak and nauseated he found himself defenseless. They threw him face-down over a table, and then his world went black.

.

[Received Impaler]