The sensation of electricity faded from the ninja's body, but her muscles continued to twitch and spasm underneath her skin from the impact of the lightning spell, reminding her of the worms poking out from the enemy, making her nauseous.
The ninja sank to her knees, chancing a shallow breath as she folded in on herself to reach her weapon and calm her churning stomach. The smell of singed clothing filled her nostrils, overpowering the oxygen she needed with the remnants of smoke, compounding both her sickness and anxiety.
I can still fix this, she thought desperately. I can kill this bastard and live. Anger burned in her heart, moving her limbs forward on reflex despite agony and fear. Her body crawled forward, foregoing the lost ice materia in favor of Conformer, where the rest of her magical stash remained. I can at least escape, she modified her plan as the cramps in her arms and legs returned, aggravated by the strain. I just have to heal myself, then I can get away from here and NEVER come back, she resolved, willing herself to reach out for Conformer as her own contorting muscles begged her to let them rest.
…Except for the materia, she decided, firmly grasping Conformer's edge in her hand and pulling it towards her, unconcerned about the noise as it scraped across the floor. I'll come back for you, icy.
Yuffie felt a surge of hope as she gripped Conformer close to her chest, even as she struggled to operate the slot mechanism that held her cure materia. The smell of her burnt clothes faded into the background, as did the roar of the beast below, as all of her focus went into convincing her fingers to cooperate with the lock.
She was still methodically struggling when her senses were overwhelmed with danger. She felt the hair on the back of her neck rise again, felt heat radiating around her form. This time, though, she was ready enough to roll out of the way before she could be struck by the spell. She squealed in pain as her body protested the sudden action, but the relief she felt from watching the lighting strike and singe the empty floor made the effort feel worth it.
Finally, she was able to feel her fingertips enough to unlatch the magical sphere, and hope surged again as its smooth, cool surface fell against her open palm. She pulled herself into a crouching position as gently as she could with no free hands, trying her best to get her muscles to cooperate despite the stiffness within them. She used Conformer to steady herself, staying crouched behind it as if it were a shield as she readied the cure materia.
She tightly gripped the orb, hand shaking as it began to glow. She didn't see the monster, having sensed an absorb-able power source, peeking between the spaces of the staircase railing, targeting her with a blow from one of its mighty tentacle arms.
It came from above, and crashed into the top of her body with a force that seemed like it could crush her completely. Yuffie's head hit the floor hard, Conformer fell atop her crumpled body, and the cure materia could be heard knocking against the floorboards as it forcefully bounced some unknowable distance away. The edges of her vision were fading to black. Retreat was the only option she had now, and it wasn't assured.
She didn't look for the materia. She couldn't. Keeping her body in a tight curl, she inched toward the higher staircase behind her. She kept Conformer against her back as she moved, hoping it could guard her from any other strikes the beast was now free to make.
Blood poured from her nose, sticking hair and dust to her face as she wriggled up the stairs one at a time, eyes half-closed to distract from the pulse she felt simultaneously in her chest and head.
She reached the top of the second staircase and laid sprawled before the great windows, the light pouring through them just reaching her prone form. The beast roared below. Yuffie's muscles tensed at the sound, but she could no longer move. The world she could see was spinning, with darkness seeping in to envelop it from the corners.
The crack of splintering wood seemed far away as her consciousness began to fade.
Nanaki will miss me, at least, Yuffie thought just before it was gone.
—
Vincent watched from the windows of the vehicle as other WRO helicopters neared his own's location. They were converging on the mansion quickly, set to arrive mere minutes from each other—another testament to Reeve's planning capabilities, especially while under pressure.
The sound of the engines around him, even while inside the helicopter, overwhelmed all of the man's senses nearly to the point of annoyance. The ever-present noise was certainly a negative aspect of working with the WRO, one he rarely had to consider until circumstances thrust him into duty once more. The overhead blades slashing through the air with the intensity of a hundred pounding drums would drive a weaker man to insanity. It almost, almost made it difficult for him to think.
"BRAVO ECHO KILO FOUR SEVEN THREE PILOT, COME IN," the radio chattered, warring with the engines and the blades. One of the other pilots must be trying to make contact with the vehicle on scene. A crack of lighting rolled across the sky, bathing the treetops below in a momentary ghostly light. A startled voice responded:
"B-BRAVO ECHO KILO FOUR SEVEN THREE P-PILOT T-TREVOR HALL, REPORTING, SIR."
"PILOT, REQ—" the radio's volume was overpowered by another crash of thunder outside. "—OUR. INBOUND."
"FOUR INBOUND?!" The young man's voice stressed, as if awestruck.
The pilot of Vincent's helicopter quickly grabbed his hand-held. "COPY FOR CLEARANCE, TREV. FOUR INBOUND," the man said authoritatively. The chatter continued but Vincent tuned it out, focusing his attention out the large side window.
It was growing dark outside, darker yet from the unrelenting storm. The intensity of rain against the windowpane made it seem like a waterfall was rushing against the vehicle's sides, as if the machine were traversing a river instead of a sky.
The tiniest seed of dread had been planted within the man's body days ago, waiting until this moment—as he watched forests and towns far below him, teeming with the life he was missing, a life that could soon be stolen from them as well—to finally take root.
He must be quite sentimental—or, perhaps as Reeve implied, habitually insane. He had no reason to harbor this heavy secret from his allies save for a promise made to a ghost. A promise he'd made to the memory of a person that he had once considered...a friend.
As he felt his shoulders stiffen at the memory of his encounter he almost felt the need to laugh, to find humor in how indiscriminately cruel the world could be. He would live for centuries with no hope of release, while others found a way back from the end he longed to see.
"Please trust me," she'd said, taking his human hand in both of hers and searching his eyes, desperation clear in her expression. "I promise it will all make sense soon." He was too stunned respond. He had a million questions, a million possibilities now, but in that moment the gunman had none. The woman pleaded with him once more: "Please, Vincent, give me your word—-tell me you won't tell the others."
A strained 'okay' was all he was able to manage. The woman gathered him into a hug, a tight embrace that stirred both a whisper of a startle within him as well as a small appreciation for the comfort the woman provided. He attempted to return the hug, if a bit awkwardly, concerned that if he moved his claw it would slice her skin or catch in her long hair. "Thank you," she whispered into his ear. "And please go to the mansion," she said as she released him. "Yuffie will need you soon."
There had been no more time for questions—Aerith needed to depart. The manner of her departure, though, still bothered him. A helicopter had arrived, as if it had been waiting on a cue. It wasn't the make of any of those he'd seen Reeve use—it looked to be quite old and somewhat cobbled-together. Rather than land, a rope ladder was dropped for Aerith to grab, which she did without hesitation and climbed to the machine mid-air as it flew away. The interaction was suspicious; Vincent couldn't help but feel something sinister was in the works from that moment, but he had no proof, just another burden to add to his ever-increasing list. He wanted to trust that it would be worth the effort, for Aerith's sake, but the uncertainty was gnawing at the corners of his mind.
Vincent knew Yuffie was going to the mansion because of the voicemail she'd left him roughly two days ago, the voicemail he didn't receive until his cell service was restored upon exiting the cave. He assumed that he would miss her, but that they'd eventually cross paths with Reeve's intervention. He didn't know quite what to expect upon his arrival until Nanaki's frantic call. Aerith's words echoed in his mind as the gunman assured Nanaki he would go to help her.
Immediately afterward Vincent had attempted to call Yuffie, preparing himself for a boisterous outburst upon call connection, but the gunman felt disturbed when his call went swiftly to voicemail, just as Nanaki's had. It was then he called Reeve for clarification, only for the situation to become even more unclear.
"COPY, CLEAR FOR LANDING," the radio crackled, piercing the gunman's thoughts. The trees below were growing larger as the vehicle descended, preparing to land. Another flash of lightning bathed the outside world in an eerie, bright grey. The vehicle's radio maintained a long silence as all incoming copters focused on their target looming in the distance.
Vincent wouldn't have thought it possible, but the mansion held more secrets now than when he'd left it.
How could something like this have happened right under his nose?
Did he miss something crucial that allowed this threat to develop, putting not just Yuffie, but everyone in Nibelheim in danger?
Was this his fault for leaving his prison for so long?
Was Yuffie okay?