Hunter: Chapter Two (Cid)
By: M.Riddle AKA Raven-Chan
...
It was past midnight when Cid Highwind woke up from his unconscious state. He had been experiencing unreal nightmares, visions of what he had seen earlier that day. Except in his dreams it was after him. It was hunting him, like helpless prey; it stalked him. When Cid awoke, he had sweat running down his face, covering his body. Blood and mucus were dried around his nose and mouth, the aftermath of the collision he had had with the run away moon he dimly remembered was his navigations console. And the console itself was screwed to hell. He had no idea what had happened to Yuffie, and in his state, he didn't care. He had no idea that in less then two hours, everything surrounding him would be gone. He heard something move, a rumbling in the corridor, and he felt it. He felt the beginning of the end coming.
...
It was past 1:00 AM now.
Cid was running from a nightmare, but not one of sleep, but one of the real world. In only a few moments, he would be killed by his nightmare.
Tifa and Cloud had already finished their meal, as well as what was left of the pie, and were now watching a movie, more or less, but mostly they sat on the couch, curled up together and making love.
Barret was tossing and turning in his bed. In his nightmare he was shooting everything he had into darkness, hitting nothing. It was the darkness hitting him, and Marlene was having much similar dreams of the darkness in her own cold bed.
Red XIII hadn't been able to sleep the whole night. Something was terribly wrong, and he didn't like it one bit. The Planet was in danger, as well as its people.
Vincent was still aimlessly roaming around the Shin-Ra Mansion, now totally absorbed in his longing to have someone with him, anyone. Perhaps one of his old AVALANCHE friends, their adventures retold over the strong black coffee he and Cloud often shared on cold mornings.
Reeve had moved from the Mall, which was now closed to the Bumble Bee Inn, checked into one of their most luxurious suites and bedding one of their finer girls.
As everyone was doing their own thing, whether it were sleeping or a conscious action, they would feel the cold chill go up their back, short, calm shivers running through their bodies. As Cid fell into the dreaded silence, they would all hear his scream, and they would never know it had happened, until it was for them the silence tolled.
...
When Cid heard the noise from the corridor he couldn't help but remember. Remember the dreams. Remember what he had seen. He thought maybe it had decided to come after him after all. Maybe he wasn't home free yet.
He began to get out of his seat, and realized two things. The first thing he realized when he began to stand up; he was still fastened into his chair. When he realized that, he hurried to get out of the restraint. He was becoming afraid of the noise. As he got the last restraint off, the other thing hit him; the Highwind was standing on its nose, and he was not known for defying gravity. He fell from his chair straight down. He screamed, and reached out, grabbing a jutting pipe from shear luck, which he grasped and held for his life. He was too old for this sort of thing, he thought. As he began to feel that he could pull him self up, he heard more noise. A rumble, then a crash of equipment. And it was much closer. It ran past him, and broke out the window in the front of the Highwind.
Something was up there.
He began to let himself down slowly, looking for something else to hold his weight. If only he could make it to that busted window.
As he thought this, the thing threw its head out over the edge. He could barely see its pitch black against the light, black and gray shades behind it. Its eyes were glowing a piercing green.
"I've found you," it seemed to say, speaking inside his mind, and he was sure it was the creature and not just his imagination. "Soon," It hissed, evil and low in his mind, and he knew at that moment it would jump on top of him and rip him limb from limb. He didn't quite like that picture, so he let go of the handle.
He fell, watching the eyes glow as he fell the rather short distance. But how far it did seemed to him. He was aiming for the edge of the window, were all of the glass shards would be at the bottom. From there he would climb down the side. Tonight was a good night for climbing, he thought ludicrously to himself.
He had no such luck as to land on balance. He hit the window's edge, and heard the cracking of his ankle. His ankle had shattered into five pieces, twisting, and when the edge of the pain hit him it was brutal and horrible. As he fell, he cared nothing for the ground that was rushing up to meet him. The only thing he cared about now was his ankle. The pain was all too much like death, and even though he didn't know that yet, he would soon.
The only thing that saved him was pure luck. His foot caught on a piece of metal sheet. It had peeled off in the crash, obviously. His foot caught for only a second. Of course, like all good things, there was some price. Of course his bad ankle had to get caught. It tugged for the second he was there, pulling it apart even more, and he screamed at the agony as the metal's edge cut through his ankle, severing his Achilles' tendon and causing a torrent of blood to come flowing from his ankle. Then the sheet metal peeled off with Cid, and they both fell to the ground. Cid landed, and it was to his surprise it was somewhat cushioned. The sheet metal landed near by, on end; it would have impaled him if it had landed on him.
He began to push himself upward with his hands, and the pain jolted through his ankle again. He looked under him, and saw the cushion clearly now. It was Peter Redman, on of his townsmen. Peter was dead, lying in a pool of blood. He had been impaled with some kind of spike, at least twenty times by the look, leaving a gory mess of barely recognizable flesh in a blood puddle on the ground. Cid thought of meatloaf in ketchup, mashed and mixed by a fork. He lost a brief battle with his stomach, and lost the supper Shera had fixed him earlier, splashing it on the face of the deceased townsman. Cid threw himself backward with his hands, not feeling the pain in his leg anymore, the shock of seeing the body of Peter washing it away momentarily. He leaned his head to his left, and lost the rest of his dinner. After a moment, it was reduced to dry heaves that racked his body, and then to a low but bearable gagging.
He stood up now, balanced only on his good leg, barely capable of coherent thought. The pain was sharper and more defined, but he was more concerned with the bodies.
Men ranging from their late teens to mid 70's littered the ground, dead by whatever means killed Peter. It looked as if though they had been searching the Highwind, for him perhaps. But, oddly, there were explosives attached to the hull of the ship. He saw his house, and began to hobble toward it, steering clear of the bodies of the people had had liked and governed and, in some cases, loved. He was going about the speed of his normal walk, his house at least fifty yards away. After ten yards, he heard a large thump, and that was all he needed to put it together.
The creature had killed them all. The people may have started by looking for him, but after finding the creature they quickly decided that losing Cid was a justified loss if they could rid themselves of this monster. And it was after him now. He looked back for just a second, and that was all the motivation he needed. It was behind him, walking, but fast enough to catch him if he didn't start moving faster.
He began walking faster, or at least attempting it, and that itself was a struggle. When he was only five yards from his house, he felt it behind him. It had caught him. He kept moving though, trying for more speed. Then heard a razor edge swing behind him, and his back opened.
Blood began to pour out of his back, and he felt his insides jostling toward the opening.
He had reached the door now. He opened it, slipped in quickly, and slammed it in the Hunter's face. He leaned against the door to rest for a moment before arming himself.
As soon as he leaned himself against the door, a spear of blackness shot through the door, and straight through Cid's left shoulder. Cid screamed in agony, and pushed himself away from the door, pulling himself of the spear and allowing a fresh wound to bleed. He held a tentative hand over his back, holding his own entrails inside. He stumbled to the kitchen, and saw Shera. He heard the tea brewing. She was sitting in her normal place at the table, as if she had heard nothing.
He hobbled quickly toward her, and when he got to her he turned her around to face him. Now he could see what was wrong with her. She was dead.
Her face had been mauled to shreds, and if she hadn't been in his house, he wouldn't have known who it was. He now noticed the blood splattered across the room, saw the blood that stained her shirt and apron, saw the rip that ran the length of her shirt and saw the bugle that was her intestines, squeezing their way from her body. At that thought, as if on cue, the Hunter burst through the door, knocking it down from its hinges. Cid grabbed his lance, ready to fight the Hunter. It barged into his kitchen, and Cid lunged. Ignoring his pain, the shattered ankle and ripped tendon, the flowing spear wound and the slash down his back and, his aching face and extremely shitty day, he lunged at full speed. The attack had no affect.
The Hunter grabbed the lance, tearing it from Cid's hand and braking his fingers and wrist in the process. The Hunter grabbed Cid by the throat, and carried him over to the range top stove, where the teapot boiled ever on. The Hunter ripped off the lid, and shoved Cid's head into the boiling tea.
Cid screamed as the boiling tea engulfed his faced. He screamed into the steaming liquid, the tea filling his mouth and throat and causing blisters, hot and painful, to arise immediately in his mouth. He would have died in a few seconds anyways, if the scream hadn't been cut short by the Hunter. As it held Cid in the air, it turned its other dark hand into a twisted spear, and began rapidly punching it through Cid's body, pulling it out and shoving it through again. He did this twenty times within a span five seconds, then threw Cid's dead, bleeding body across the room, where it lay in the corner, resembling mashed meatloaf and ketchup.
As Cid's soul was drawn toward the LifeStream, it changed direction, and was drawn to the Hunter, absorbed by it. Cid's soul let out a final painful scream, then fell into the silence.
The Hunter left Rocket Town, only looking back to shoot a ball of fire at the defunct Highwind. The fire hit the explosives, and all of Rocket Town was incinerated. The Hunter continued onward on his path of destruction. The night still folded its wings around Midgar, and Barret would soon wake to see that his nightmares were reality.
...
As the ashes of Rocket Town fell on the countryside, darkness spread across the land, as if the ashes were seeds of evil, and what had happened to the Wutai area now was happening to this countryside, The area Cid's soul had protected belonged to the Hunter now, another of his black towers rising like a perverse tree. The monsters rose, and went out in the dark. Now was the time for killing.
