Untitled

CHAPTER 2

The doctors at Midgar Community Hospital were about to switch to the night shift at 8:19 when the first ambulance arrived. Nobody saw the figure shrouded in black jump off the top of the ambulance and hide in the shadows.

The first ambulance pulled up beside the door leading to the ER. Two paramedics emerged from the back, pulling a gurney carrying a man with an incredibly nasty burn.

"What the hell happened to him?" asked the head doctor on duty, Gary Ferguson. He ran up to the gurney to look at the patient.

"He was unconscious when we found him about 40 feet from a car accident, sir. Apparently a cop car collided with another car, which hit a truck. It all went up in flames… if this guy was still alive it'd be a miracle." The paramedic scratched the back of his neck. "I'll leave him in your care tonight."

"Thank you. My staff is more than competent enough to handle him." Said Ferguson, opening one of the patient's closed eyelids. "He looks pretty bad."

"I know. There's been a shitload of deaths tonight in Kalm."

Ferguson's eyes stared at the paramedic. "I heard about it in the news not 5 minutes ago. 6 cops died, right?"

"Yeah. Our PD is gonna reel from this fuck-up. Take care, doc." The paramedic walked out the double doors and met up with his partner. In a flash, they were both in their ambulance and out to Kalm again.

One of Ferguson's assistants, Dana Ross, ran up to the doctor. "Do we have to deal with another one?" she closed her eyes and shook her head sullenly. "One of these days I'm just gonna quit. All this overtime is making my husband worried about me…"

"Don't worry about it. The hospital's paying us extra for overtime." Said Ferguson. "Help me push this lug into the ER."

"Okay." Sighed Dana. "I'm gonna take tomorrow off, though."

"I guess it's for the better." The two doctors wheeled the stretcher into a large room with blue-tiled walls, an operating table in the middle, and steel tables loaded up with medical instruments.

They both lifted the body off the stretcher and placed it on the table. "Dana! Call over Moretti and Fox." Said Ferguson, donning an operating mask.

Ross ran over to the phone and punched in a 3-digit number. "I just paged them. They'll be here soon."

Ferguson nodded. "Good. While we wait, take a record of what our patient looks like. We can try to nail an identity for him…or her…" He looked at the partially- burned ponytail that extended from his head. "Do I need to check? Or do you want to?"

"That's gross. I'm not in the mood to look right now."

"Dana…that's what you always do with our patients, even if you know their gender! I thought you'd volunteer to do it." Ferguson was grinning ear-to-ear under his surgical mask. "Of course, you're going to go home to your loving husband soon…"

"That's not very professional, doctor." Dana laughed and put on rubber gloves. "Do you wanna do it now?"

"I dunno… We have to work on this schmuck first."

Dana crept closer, a seductive grin on her face. "He's already dead, doctor. I can see it in his eyes…they're cold, gray, and lifeless." She stood in front of Ferguson, her hand stroking his chest. "I'd understand if you weren't in the mood now… but that's why I'm having an affair with you. My husband never wants to do it when we're at home…"

Gary took Dana in his arms. "That's why I love you, Dana. You're so truthful about everything!" He took off his mask and shared a long, open-mouthed kiss with her.

"This just in, folks," said the TV news anchor. "A few minutes ago, we told you all of the police massacre in Kalm…we now have positive identities for the dead."

"Good," said Buford Moretti. "I wanna know who did this so I can personally find out where he lives and rip off his balls." He slammed his coffee on the table.

"Shut up, idiot." Said Grant Fox. "You need to listen to this shit."

"…The identities are as follows: Trevor Gardoli, age 43, husband to Grace Gardoli. Officer for the Kalm Police Department for 6 years. He took a bullet to the head." Said the anchor solemnly, reading off cue sheets. He ran his fingers through his oil-black hair. His brown eyes stared directly into the camera, creating the illusion that he was addressing the watcher personally. "His body was found in a police car, sitting in the driver's seat."

"Good lord…" said Fox, his hand clutching the table.

"Who cares who his wife is?" wondered Moretti, a medical student at the hospital who specialized in anesthesia. He chugged back the rest of his coffee like it was water.

Fox, the senior of the two of them by about 10 years, was tall and lanky, with blonde hair parted down the middle. He had taken a dislike towards Moretti, and as luck would have it, they were on the same operating team with Ferguson and Ross.

"Shut up!" he said, whirling towards the intern. "You make me want to puke sometimes! I can't stand it!"

"Easy…they're still naming the victims." Said Moretti, a short, plump college student with curly brown hair and a square jaw, true to his Italian heritage.

Fox fumed for a moment and sat down again.

The anchor straightened his hair again. "The second victim found was Joe Carbone. He was lying on the sidewalk, apparently holding cases of doughnuts…" He was interrupted by studio technicians laughing in the background. The anchor smiled a bit. "That's what cops do, people!" he chortled.

"Shit…" mumbled Fox, burying his head in his hands.

"Why are you so serious, man? Lighten up a little!" said Moretti.

"One of my cousins is a cop in Kalm." Replied Fox. "I'm gonna go outside and get some fresh air…by the way, you need to shut the hell up."

Suddenly, the phone rang in the lounge. "What the hell's so urgent?" growled Morretti. He stood up and retrieved the phone. "Hello?"

"Your presence is required in the emergency room," said the receptionist on the other end of the line. "Ross needs you now."

"Fine." Grumbled Moretti. He turned around to report this to Fox.

In front of Fox was a man with bright green eyes, long silver hair, and a black raincoat with a noticeable bulge in it. In his other hand was a briefcase with handcuffs attached to it. "Excuse me… can you tell me where my associate is? I'm in a hurry…"

Fox staggered back, fear welling in his heart. "Who are you!?"

The man slammed the door shut and locked the deadbolt. "My formal name is Mikhail Sephiroski… but some people simply call me by my last name."

Moretti's features hardened into a look of fright. This man chilled him down to the bone. "What are you gonna do? We're just doctors…"

"Shut up!" said Fox.

"Make me!" retorted Moretti.

Sephiroski unsheathed his sword in clear view of both the doctors. "Tell me where my associate is or your necks will shortly feel the coldness of this blade."

Fox cowered in the corner, behind the table with their microwave on it. He feebly held his hands up in the air. "I don't know who your associate is."

"Fine. You want to play that way?" Sephiroski shifted his glance over to Moretti. "How about you? I know that my associate just came in a little while ago on an ambulance, and he's been moved into your emergency room. I understand you're a little shorthanded, and that's how I snuck in so easily.

"So, care to explain?" he concluded, pointing the sword at the intern.

"Geez, sir, I don't know a thing, just that we were summoned to the ER not too long ago. I suppose that would be your associate…"

Fox glared at Moretti hatefully. What an idiot! He tells this man what he actually needs to know? Such ignorance! "He's lying. We don't know a thing!" Fox stood up to his full height. He was about the same size as Sephiroski was, but slightly less muscular.

"I'll be the judge of that." Said the Russian man, pivoting his sword to the side. He suddenly had an idea. "Turn around and face the wall. I'll kill you rather painlessly."

Fox spat in the face of his tormentor. "I'd like to see you try."

Moretti watched all this with interest. Maybe Fox might know how to stand up for himself! He thought.

Sephiroski wiped the saliva from his left cheek. "You just made the last mistake of your life, comrade."

Fox swung his fist at Sephiroski. The Russian caught it in his left hand. Fox had mere seconds to discover that he had a gaping wound in his left shoulder, and a deep cut in his left arm. Fox could make out the dull white bone under the matted flesh. It was then when Fox discovered that this man was not human…

"Let go!" he screamed. It was too late. Sephiroski smirked and started to squeeze Fox's left hand. Fox started to scream as the bones in his hand started to crack and crunch under the extreme pressure. "NOOOOOOOOO!!!"

Nurse Martha Hollingsworth walked up to the door of the nurses' lounge, hoping that there was coffee left in the machine, and tried to open the door, only to discover it was locked.

"Shoot. I guess they're doing maintenance…"

Suddenly a muffled scream came through the door, one of extreme pain. "NOOOOOOOOO!!!"

Martha drew her hands up to her mouth. "Oh, dear! I wish those doctors wouldn't watch their pornographic movies while they're on duty… I'll bring it up with their supervisor." She walked over to the second coffee machine on the other side of the building. "Such irresponsibility… raging hormones…"

Fox collapsed to the floor, holding his hand. "You…you…" he growled while he writhed in agony on the tile floor. "Why…?"

"Because you spit in my face, infidel!" roared the Russian. "I'll send you to a place that only infidels go to!"

"Heh, that's right!" laughed Moretti, hoping to stay on Sephiroski's good side.

"Shut up." Said Fox. "I wish you weren't so ignorant…"

"Ignorance is bliss." Said Sephiroski. "You know what they used to call me when I was with the Spetznaz guarding the Muslim prison camp in Siberia?"

"You were in the Spetznaz?" said Moretti, duly impressed.

"Shut up!" yelled Fox again, moaning when his shattered hand throbbed. He rolled over on the floor, back first.

"I was called `The Philosopher'… do you know why?" said the Russian, obviously enjoying his position of power.

"Hell if I know…" groaned Fox.

"One day, we corralled all the Muslim prisoners out of the camp and out into an open field. They were forced to remove their clothing in Siberia's weather. They told me that I was to execute as many of them as I could with two AK-47 clips. I accepted the challenge.

"I walked up to the ones that I had taken a disliking to and shot them once in the head, sometimes twice. I loved doing that; it made me feel alive… so alive… I started to tell them what would happen in their afterlife, what consequences they will take from their actions as mortals…

"'He who commits acts of infidelity in his mortal life shall be treated with equal disrespect in the afterlife.' Do you know what we call that, comrade?"

"Shit…what is it with you and word games?" said Fox. "You get so pissed that I spit in your face…Jesus…"

"That is called Karma, infidel. I've noticed your disrespect for your fellow man…it will echo in your afterlife, my friend… if you're lucky enough to have one."

"That story was disgusting…" said Fox. "You're a fucking monster…"

"Well, I suppose every man has his faults." Said Sephiroski. "Now it's time to see if my prediction comes true…" he raised the blade over his head like a golfer would raise his 9-iron before a swing.

Moretti stared at the spectacle before him. During his time at the hospital, he had dreamed of seeing Fox die, but not like this… "Don't kill him!"

Fox groaned one last time. "Shut…..up……." He saw the reddened blade gleam for a split second. Deep inside, he was glad that his dead-end life was going to come to an abrupt end, but he also wondered if Sephiroski's predictions would come true.

Oh well, he thought. I guess I'll find out soon enough. The blade hit its mark.

Ferguson and Ross held each other in their arms. "I don't want to do this operation," said Dana. "Honestly, why don't we leave right now?"

"Honey…" said Gary with a kiss. "I can't abandon my co-workers like that."

"Well, I'm a co-worker, aren't I?" she grinned, drawing a smile from Ferguson's lips. She lived for that smile… "Are you reconsidering?"

"Look, I can't do this whenever…"

"I get these urges sometimes…" she crooned. "I just want to be with you…"

"I'm glad your husband hasn't caught on yet." Said Ferguson, taking off his surgical robe, revealing a Hooters T-Shirt underneath.

Dana viewed it with some form of disgust. At least he's better than my husband… she thought. In more than one way. Ross hopped onto the stretcher that the patient was brought in on. "We can do it here." She said lasciviously, removing her puke-green robe.

Gary licked his lips and took his shirt off, displaying a hairy chest of Sean Connery proportions. I look just like James Bond! He noticed.

"C'mere, sweetie." Said Dana, pulling her boss over herself. They shared another sloppy French kiss.

Man, she gives great tongue. Thank God I'm still single, so I can't be caught cheating… "Dana…" he moaned.

Ross grinned. "You want more?"

"I'm afraid that wouldn't be legal in Midgar… at least in public. I think we should call off the operation… that guy's a stiff, anyway." He gestured towards Hojovko's still body. "We should call in the coroner after we're done."

"Good idea." Dana's hands moved to the buckle of Gary's pants with anticipation. "Are you sure we can't go somewhere else? I have the feeling that someone's watching me do this to you…."

"You're so paranoid, sweetie." Another long kiss warmed up the cold operating room. Ferguson's hands discreetly moved to Dana's trim waist, to begin lifting up that old, sad white cotton shirt…

RIIING!! The phone on the wall emitted a loud noise.

"Shit! Who could it be?" Gary ran up to retrieve the phone.

"It's probably Fox and Moretti," said Dana. "Maybe we should operate after all."

"Whoever it is, I'm gonna rip their fuckin' face off with my own bare hands and shove it up their ass!" He picked up the phone and cooed into it. "Hello?"

"Yeah, this is Moretti," said the voice on the other end. "Sorry it took so long, I went with Fox to get a Coke. We'll be there soon."

"Oh, that's no problem. I think this guy's a stiff… take as long as you want." Said Ferguson. "As a matter of fact, you might want to call the coroner."

"Okay, then. See ya."

"Alright. Take care, pal." Moretti hung up.

Ferguson hung up. "Asshole." He breathed.

Moretti walked away from the phone, Sephiroski's blade still at his throat. "Feel free to take that away now. I didn't tip anyone off… just as I promised."

"You did very well, then." Said the Russian, sheathing his sword under his doctor's uniform. He straightened up some folds in it. "Is my disguise convincing enough?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'd say so."

Moretti walked over to Fox's headless body. "I still don't understand why you needed to chop his head off…"

"So I could use his uniform without bloodying it unnecessarily." The corpse was stuffed in a corner with the black raincoat draped over it. Sephiroski turned to the young intern again. "Remember what to do?"

"Yeah, pretend you're Fox, and I'll say you have a sore throat…you grab your buddy and get out of there…."

"Yes," agreed the Russian.

"But…don't kill anyone…" said Moretti, looking away. "I've got a feeling that you're numbed to it, and…nobody here's got a way to defend themselves, other than Kyle the security guard…and he's asleep half the time.

"So…just don't do it." Moretti looked up. The Russian was gone. The door was open. "Ah, shit!" he said under his breath, running out into the hall.

Sephiroski looked at the sign on the wall outside the lounge. That idiot intern wants me to spare life…evidently, he needs to walk a mile in my moccasins, Sephiroski thought, using the trite American term.

The sign pointed him to the left. Striding down the corridor, he got confused looks from some hospital orderlies, but was not stopped by anyone.

Another sign appeared on a crudely made stand. "ER-RIGHT" it said.

Sephiroski went down the right corridor. His right hand was under the doctor's scrubs and his left was dangling at his side. Sephiroski had used part of his old raincoat to dress the wounds on his left arm. It had stopped hurting a while ago, partially due to the blood clotting up. His torture-resistance training was proving its effectiveness yet again.

Martha Hollingsworth strolled by the Russian with a large, steaming mug of coffee. Something about this doctor in the hallway didn't look right to her…and she wanted to talk with him about the pornography that he was watching in the lounge.

"Excuse me, sir…" she said, tapping him on the shoulder. "May I please ask…"

Sephiroski spun around at the noise. An old hag wanted to ask him something… It's probably about my ID card. He thought. I don't look a thing like Grant Fox. I don't know if I should resort to subterfuge to carve my way through a shorthanded hospital…or perhaps I should honor that intern's request. He decided to fake an American accent to the best of his abilities.

"What is it, madam?" he said quite convincingly.

"What were you doing in the nurses' lounge? I heard all kinds of…unpleasant noises coming from there… and I was wondering-"

Sephiroski had taken this as a sign that he was under suspicion. Under his uniform, he drew his sword and plunged it into the old woman's chest, cutting her off in mid-sentence.

Martha felt great pain and collapsed on the floor, dead without knowing how or why. Her cup of coffee fell from her hand and shattered.

"What the hell?" uttered the receptionist, looking towards the source of the noise.

I guess I've blown my cover…he thought. I guess I'll slay all the infidel pigs here.

He had his sword in hand, clearly out in view. Sephiroski calmly strode up to the receptionist's desk. "Excuse me, but your elderly nurse has unexpectedly passed away."

"What?" said the receptionist, standing up. A nimble slash from the Masamune Blade cut her down like a weed, showering fresh gore over the desk. This will be easy… I don't even see signs of a security station or checkpoint…what a low-tech operation.

A third sign was behind the desk, pointing Sephiroski towards the end of the hallway. Holding his sword out, he strode towards the Emergency Room. An orderly ran out to stop the armed man, only to meet the same fate as the other people who had crossed paths with him tonight.

Hojovko blinked. Once, twice, then a third time. He ached all over. It was as if his skin was on fire. All at once, memories of the crash came to his mind. Stepping out of his sedan, narrowly missing getting hit by a speeding police cruiser…

Yes, it was all coming back. The feel of flames on his back, not knowing what was happening, suddenly being propelled into the street…yes, he remembered.

One face stuck out in his mind. Cloud Strife. That little punk who ruined his plans… if it wasn't for the rookie, he'd be in the sedan with his employer, counting their money. Where is Sephiroski? I need him again…I need Fate to intervene and take me from this place.

"Dana…" said a voice to his right. "Let's get married."

"What? You can't be serious, Gary! I'm already married!" said a female voice.

"I know that…I've got an idea."

"What would that be?"

"Kill your husband. I've got to have you…I want to be with you, forever and ever, Dana…can't you see? We were meant for each other!"

Hojovko felt nauseous. The dialog being played out beside him sounded like it was ripped directly out of an American "Soap Opera". He had seen an episode on television the other day, and it was about as believable as the concept of Democracy.

"You sick, sick man! Come here!" sounds of suppressed breathing and flesh rubbing on cloth were heard.

The patient sat on the steel operating table listening to the squalid conversation.

What sick, unwholesome, adulterous minds these Americans have, he thought. So filthy…what twisted infidels. There will be divine intervention tonight… only in the afterlife will these infidels know their punishment for mortal sins.

After a round of more kisses, the man spoke up again. "Honestly… I think we should kill your husband. He's just getting in the way."

"But I don't know if I'm in the will yet." Said the female nurse.

"We can change that…" chuckled the conspirator. "After the coroner comes in to drag off this stiff, we can go to your house and force your hubby to change the will, then we can kill him, get your money and go to Wutai for the weekend!"

"How are we going to go about killing Fred? He's big, tall, and strong…unlike you. That's the sad truth, Gary."

"Oh, so you're comparing me to your husband?"

"No, no, no! Not at all! You're a far better boyfriend than my husband ever was when we were in high school. You two are incomparable."

"Yeah, sure."

Hojovko looked to his right to notice a male doctor putting a shirt on. "You're such a bitch sometimes, it's hard not to ignore that," he said. "I might just go kill your husband for the fun of it."

"You monster! I should have known you were driven by your narcissism!"

I hate to tell you this, but you aren't any better off, Hojovko thought to himself with an inaudible chuckle. Directly to his right was a tray of medical instruments. Scanning over them, he saw something that grabbed his attention- a morphine needle. It was all he needed…

"Shut your trap, Dana! Your mood swings will be the death of me yet."

Stealthily, Hojovko's hand moved to the morphine needle and clamped it. Yes, this will be my ticket out of here.

"Gary! You bastard! I thought you loved me!"

"I guess I was lying."

"GARY!!!" Dana stood up and grabbed Ferguson tightly in a giant bear hug. "Don't leave me like this…please, Gary…. please…"

Ross' back was turned to Sephiroski's associate. It's now or never. He suddenly stood and ran up to the nurse, plunging the syringe into the back of her neck, pushing the plunger down all the way. 20ccs of morphine went into her system, causing her to go limp in Ferguson's arms.

"What the hell!?" he stared at the now-alive Hojovko. "I thought you were dead! You sure as hell looked it."

"Appearances can be deceiving, comrade." He looked back at the tray for another weapon to use against the narcissistic doctor. Hojovko saw another syringe. However, it was empty… beside it was a bottle of an unnamed liquid. What the hell… The Russian picked them both up and stuck the needle into the paper-thin lid of the bottle and filled up the syringe with a glowing green liquid.

"You don't know what you're doing! That's-"

Hojovko approached the doctor. "Are you scared of the syringe's contents, dishrag?" he chuckled.

The door suddenly opened. A doctor stepped in with green eyes and radiant silver hair. "How many times do I have to tell you? It's DIRTBAG!"

"I knew that." Said Hojovko, smiling.

Ferguson turned around. "What's happening here!?" he shrieked. Dana's prone form began to move around and mumble incoherently.

"You should know, you despicable swine. This is Fate playing out."

Ferguson looked at the unknown doctor. "Are you Fred?!" he gasped.

"No, I'm called Mikhail, or Mishka depending on your tastes. I believe you were planning on calling the Coroner to dispose of my comrade here. I don't appreciate that at all. In fact, I believe that if you were to remain alive, we could sue you for malpractice."

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry…"

"Apologies won't save you in the afterlife, infidel." Sephiroski unsheathed his sword from under his uniform again. Ferguson stared at the wet crimson blade in dumbfounded awe. This was Karma, all right…

Dana started to stand up and flutter her eyelashes. "Wuzzis?" she uttered.

"Not now." Said Ferguson. "Everything's okay."

"Ha, ha, ha… that's fuzzy." Said Ross, opening her mouth to its apex and letting her tongue hang out. "You're like a pea…soft and squishy." Her hands clasped Ferguson's right calf and squeezed it.

"Let GO of me!" he said, kicking out.

"Should I consider this to be your final moment of love?" said Sephiroski, preparing to swing his blade.

"No fair! This doesn't count!"

"Fine… since I'm such a nice person, I'll let you bid goodbye to your snookums."

"What doesn't count? My hand on a wet lizard across an hourglass?" she moved up to his stomach and began to tickle it.

"Stop it, Ross…my life is in danger, can't you see?" Ferguson grabbed her hands and moved them away from him.

"Danger? Ha, ha, ha! You're my special guy person." Said Dana, squealing like a newborn baby. "Just like my dog's anthill's wife's friend." She started to drool.

"I think you gave her too much morphine." He said to Hojovko. "She's high right now… I mean, high as a fuckin' balloon."

"I had no reason to kill her." He said. "I just wanted to get her out of the way."

"…Like I'll need to get you out of the way. You've had more than enough time, doctor. It's time for you to die for your mistakes." Said Sephiroski, swinging his blade at Ferguson's exposed back.

"Dana! I-" he was cut short when the point of the Masamune Blade came out his chest, spouting blood over Dana's face. Ferguson attempted to talk again, but all that came out of his mouth was more blood. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and clouded over as he fell to the floor.

Ross smeared the blood all over her face and laughed. "So warm and sticky! It feels like glue in a blender!" She stood up and looked at a mirror. "Ha! I'm all red! I look like an Indian!" Dana broke into an uncontrollable peal of laughter.

Ignoring this, Sephiroski looked over his associate. "I'm glad they weren't operating, Hojovko." He said.

"Yes, indeed. I've got a syringe full of this shit. Do you know what it is?" asked Hojovko, placing the syringe full of the green liquid in Sephiroski's hand.

"I've no idea."

"Idea…starts with an I and ends with an A! Like Ibarra!" said Dana, skipping across the room.

"Well, let's not bother ourselves with it. Put it in your pocket and let's get out of here… I left our money in the lounge-"

Sephiroski was cut short by Moretti, who appeared at the door. "You killed Martha, Grace and Leo! How could you?" he bellowed in rage. "I told you not to kill anyone, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did. I didn't say I'd honor your request, though…" said Sephiroski, very coolly yet confidently. "Get out of the way or you'll see Martha, Grace, and Leo real soon…"

"You…" stammered Moretti. Clenching his fists, he ran at the Russian.

Sephiroski had seen him coming. Laughing, he kicked Moretti in the face and followed through with a punch to the gut with his left hand. "Doctor Ferguson put up a better fight than you did."

"Fight, fight, in the night, see my tiger burning bright!" said Dana, smearing Gary's blood over the floor with her hands.

Moretti doubled over with the first punch. "You self-righteous pig…" said Sephiroski, raising the blade up in the air and bringing it down on Moretti's back. The intern writhed for a moment and collapsed on the floor.

"Is he an Indian, too?" said Dana with interest.

"Now he is. Come on, Hojovko. We're going to grab our money and get out of here."

"Fine with me…what should we do with the woman?" his associate responded.

"Take her with us. She'll be a hostage."

Hojovko picked her up by the shoulders. "We're going to leave now."

"Aww, man! I wanna paint some more!" said Dana, pouting. She wiped the excess blood on her shirt.

"Let's go. Follow the nice doctor there." He said, gesturing to Sephiroski, who grinned in a friendly manner.

"Okey-dokey." Said Ross, wobbling after the two men.

Kyle Maddox walked into the hospital lobby to have a nice chat with Grace, the receptionist, who he had been trying to set up a date with. "Hello, Grace!" he said, walking up to the desk.

How odd, he thought. I don't see her anywhere. It was then that he looked to his left to see Martha Hollingsworth in a pool of her own blood.

"Holy shit! How did this happen?" howled Kyle, reaching down to Martha's prone body. He turned her over to see a deep gouge in her chest, pink lungs visible through the open wound.

"Jesus Christ…" he whimpered, cowering against the wall. A wave of nausea swept over him like a tsunami. Crouching the opposite direction from Martha's dead body, he began to heave on the floor. She had been his friend from the moment he was transferred to the hospital for security duty following a tragic event in which he accidentally killed a teenager in a shootout.

"Kyle…is that you?" wheezed a voice from behind the receptionist's desk.

It's Grace. Running behind the desk, he was petrified to see his friend laid out on the floor, a slash running diagonally across her torso. Her blood was all over the desk and the wall, she was in a spreading pond of it herself. The outlook looked bleak for her to survive. "What the hell happened here?" cried Kyle, taking her head in his arms.

Grace looked up, her brown eyes starting to cloud over. "Man….with….doctor's outift….raincoat…sword….killed Martha…green eyes….silver hair very…..handsome……" Her head suddenly dropped back, mouth hanging open. She went limp in Kyle's arms.

"No…" mumbled Kyle, dropping his friend on the floor. "NO!" God damn it, this is a hospital! People aren't supposed to die in a hospital! He looked down the hall. Nobody was there, apparently the staff was still between shifts. Thinking quickly, he got out his walkie-talkie to radio in to HQ.

Cid Highwind leaned back in his chair, puffing on an unfiltered cigarette. From the moment Strife told him that the mission was blown, he had smoked at least 10 other cigarettes and was working on an eleventh.

"Can I get you anything, chief?" asked one of his assistants, patting him on the shoulder.

"No. Go the hell away!" screamed Highwind. "I ain't in the mood for chitchat! Our operation in Kalm is entirely down the toilet, and our suspect ran off." He slammed his fist on the table, causing the other heads in the room to turn.

"Are you alright?" asked the aide. "I think-"

"You're fired!! Get the hell out of my sight!" announced Cid, flailing his arm at the aide. "Take all your stuff with you! If you aren't out of the building by-"

"This is Maddox, is anyone there?" squawked the CB radio.

"Shit!" proclaimed Cid. "All this has to happen when I'm talking!"

"Anyone?" repeated the radio.

"God damn son of a bitch…" Cid stomped over to his desk and picked up his radio. "Yeah, this is Highwind. What the hell do you want?"

"This is Maddox-"

"I fuckin' know that! What's wrong?"

"There's been a report of a man wearing a doctor's uniform coming in here and slaying two hospital personnel…"

Maddox looked down the hall beside the desk to see another crumpled figure lying on the floor.

"Err…make that three."

"Do you have any descriptions of this man?" asked Cid, becoming very serious all of a sudden. "If there are, I'd like to know them…"

"Yeah, I do. But since you were so rude to me, I'd like an apology."

"Jesus Christ, kid! You could single-handedly-"

Maddox stared to laugh. "I'm just joshin', man. Don't get so uptight."

"Fucking moron!!" blasted Cid. "TELL ME THE DAMN DESCRIPTION!" He stood up in his chair and screamed directly into the microphone, getting shushed by a few police officers, who monitored their own radio circuits.

Maddox spoke into the receiver again. "Okay, my recently deceased friend tells me that he has silver hair, green eyes, and a sword… odd if you ask me." He sat down next to Grace's lifeless body.

"Holy Christ… Where are you again?" said the voice from the other end.

"I'm at Midgar Community Hospital, we're near Kalm."

"I've got a couple fresh police cruisers on their way. If this fuck's still in the hospital, I want you to apprehend him using any means possible."

"Can I kill him out of personal revenge?" said Maddox, taking out his .357 magnum from its shoulder flask. He wasn't supposed to be carrying a gun, but he liked having a piece with him wherever he went. It made him feel powerful.

"If you're a cop on security duty, I don't think you even have a sidearm…and this guy's as dangerous as a chocobo without its momma, alright? Don't try to beat the hell outta him with your nightstick…"

"I have ways," said the security guard, pulling the hammer back.

"Whatever the hell that means…Anyhow, I'm sending out a patrol. Hang tight, and don't let the fucker gut you like a fish."

Sephiroski could hear muffled voices coming from the lobby down the hall. He could see the orderly's body there on the floor, it hadn't moved from its previous spot.

"I think the coast's clear from here. Be careful once you round the corner. I think there are survivors." He reported to his accomplice, who gave a nod.

"I will survive! As long as I know how to love, I'm gonna stay alive…" screeched Dana, waving her arms about. "I've got all my life to live, I've got all my love to give-"

"Hojovko, shut her up." Said Sephiroski.

"Right…" he replied, stomping on her foot.

"OW! You meanie! You hurt me!" Dana gave the Russian a slap across the face.

"Damn it! Can I kill her?" growled Hojovko.

"She's our hostage, remember. Let's go." Sephiroski walked down the hall with the briefcase in his left hand, sword out in his right.

Maddox heard some talking in the hallway behind him. If it's a member of the hospital's personnel, I'll get them to treat Grace…I bet she's still alive. Foolishly, he exposed his whole body as he stepped out in the corridor. "Who's there?" he cried out.

He saw a man in a doctor's uniform tread down the hall, a huge curved sword in his right hand, briefcase in the other. He could see the long silver hair and green eyes clear as day. This is our man. Maddox raised his Colt Python and aimed it at him.

Sephiroski's pace never dawdled until he saw the gun raise. He's going to go hostile on me without even talking? Pity. He threw the briefcase behind him. "Take it, Hojovko." he ordered. Raising his sword in a defensive stance, he rushed at the potential assailant.

Maddox was in a world all his own. He was the best sharpshooter at the Midgar Police Academy, besting the record set by Zack. The people on duty didn't know this, and he preferred to keep it a secret. He also excelled in close-range combat and infiltration techniques. The only reason why he wasn't on the full-time police force anymore was because of that…unfortunate incident a while ago…

Returning to the issue at hand, he saw that the man was defending his head and torso area with the sword. In a split-second, he aimed down at the man's legs. This is for Gracie! He proclaimed to himself as he pulled the trigger back.

The tremendous recoil of the Colt Python propelled the bullet towards Sephiroski's hyper extended leg at 2,000 feet a minute.

This will be another easy kill, thought Sephiroski milliseconds before the .357 bullet blasted into his kneecap, completely shattering it. The bullet didn't fragment, but it exited out the back of his leg after tearing through the bone like a locust in a wheat field.

This took him totally by surprise, as he began to tumble and fall across the floor, his sword flying from his grasp, his knee exploding in fire.

Have another one for the road, shitbag, said Maddox in his mind. He squeezed the trigger a second time.

Sephiroski was already in incredible pain when the follow-up bullet exploded into his chest, barely missing the aorta and shooting out his back. He hit the cold tile floor face first, his nose crunching against the hard surface.

In the corner of his eye, he could see his Masamune Blade clatter against the floor, coming to a rest against the wall. He was in incredible pain, more pain than he could hope to resist. Maybe it's my turn to have my fate decided by Karma. He could feel his lifeblood rapidly drain from the multiple wounds inflicted on him…he couldn't move his limbs; he couldn't try to stop the bleeding. All he could do was sit…and wait.

"No! Sephiroski!" screamed Hojovko, in Russian. "I'm taking the money and meeting you at our safehouse! Be sure to get out safely!"

Sephiroski moved his head incrementally. That was all that Hojovko needed to know in order to carry out their contingency plan.

"A safehouse… a safe…. house!" proclaimed Dana. "I want to go there!"

"I'm afraid you'll stay here for tonight."

"I wanna go, uncle Hojovko!"

"Too bad." Hojovko pushed her off of him and started to run down the corridor to his left. The exit was in sight, about 100 feet away…

I'll bag his associate while I'm at it! Maddox fired the Colt Python again. The bullet screamed past Hojovko's head and imbedded itself in the wall. Maddox looked at the fleeing Russian, awestruck. He had never missed a stationary target in his life.

"I like truffles!" declared Ross, sprawled out on the floor.

"Highwind calling all units, please respond, over." Screeched the CB radio in Midgar Police Cruiser #59-Q.

Officer Michael Riley picked up the receiver. "Ten-four, HQ. What's up?"

"We've traced the suspect to a hospital in the outskirts of Midgar…where are you?"

"We just got out of Kalm, and we're heading for Midgar now."

In the passenger's seat, Cloud Strife looked at Riley with anxiety. He didn't want to face down Sephiroski again. He wanted to forget about what happened that night…

"I need you to head for Midgar Community Hospital ASAP. We've got another officer there, he could be killed at any moment, comprende?"

"I hear you," said Riley. The police car passed a sign on the Inter-Continental Freeway: "MIDGAR CITY LIMITS". The dull lights of Midgar could be seen already. "We just got into Midgar, HQ. We're close to the hospital."

"No…" said Strife. "I don't want to go…"

"Great. I need you to support Officer Maddox until we can get the SWAT team from our PD over there to exterminate the Russkies."

Strife snatched the receiver from Riley's hand. "Sergeant! Do you know what that bastard did tonight?"

Cid was caught by surprise. "Strife? You're with Riley on this? It'd be good for you to sharpen your teeth on this one. That's why you signed up for this mission, no?"

"You're a real asshole, Highwind." Spat Cloud. "He killed Zack. I saw it with my own two eyes."

"He wasn't identified on the news as one of the dead." Said Highwind. "For all I knew, you could've been busting out your marijuana again."

Disgusted, Cloud tugged on the receiver as hard as he could. It came out of CB radio transmitter in a short shower of sparks. Strife threw the receiver out the window.

"What the hell did you do that for?!" stammered Riley.

"I hate that man…" mumbled Cloud.

"We're going to the hospital. Orders are orders. Sorry, man, but I don't wanna get fired, you know."

"Whatever…" Cloud sank back into the seat and shut his eyes.

Hojovko ran outside the hospital into the parking lot. Immediately to his left was a parked ambulance; its driver's-side door was open. Excellent, he thought, leaping into the cab.

He threw the briefcase on the passenger's-side seat and opened the fuse box slightly above the gas and brake pedals. Quickly connecting the two vital fuses, the ambulance roared to life.

Shutting the door, he reflected on how beneficial his skills as a KGB spook were becoming today. As an undercover KGB agent, he had been assigned to penetrate Russian Mafia warehouses in Moscow. Most missions involved the stealing or theft of company cars containing various contraband, and that was how Hojovko remembered how to hotwire cars.

In one mission, an attack on an illegal arms cache, he was paired with a crack team of Spetznaz troops, and their leader was Mikhail Sephiroski. Unfortunately, the mission was compromised, which resulted in the deaths of all the team members, save for Sephiroski and Hojovko.

The two were taken prisoner by the Mob and were pressed into becoming moles from the KGB and Spetznaz… in other words, Mafia informers. Clever as they were, Hojovko and Sephiroski relayed the Mafia's efforts to the government, and the government's actions to the Mafia.

One night, the two friends coordinated a fake "arms deal" which would inevitably be a showdown between the police and the Mob… and it did.

The two took over the Crachovko's business of running arms and dealing cocaine and did it well…after resigning from their respective government posts. Since then, they were the unstoppable team of the underworld…

Until that night, that was. Now his partner and friend was lying in a hospital in a puddle of his own lifeblood with an angry cop on his trail.

Such times are gone for the time being…although I trust that he'll get out alive. Sephiroski's a crafty fellow. He'll find some way to escape. I know he will. Hojovko backed out of the parking lot and sped down the Intercontinental Freeway.

Maddox ran out of the hospital just in time to see an ambulance drive off. "Damn." He uttered. "That bastard was so close to getting a bullet through the brainpan."

"This is your brain! This is your brain on heroin!" Exclaimed Dana

Ross, stumbling out the door. "Any questions?" she fell on the ground, giggling uncontrollably.

Kyle looked at Dana and shook his head sadly.

Just then, Squad Car #59-Q sped into the parking lot, an officer getting out of the driver's side and approaching Maddox.

"Are you an officer for Midgar, sir?" questioned Riley.

"Yeah. The Russian's in there bleeding like a slaughtered lamb. I doubt he'll be getting up anytime soon." Maddox pointed at the building with his pistol.

"Has he had any medical assistance?"

"Nope. He killed Gracie…he deserves to die like the scum he is."

Sephiroski tried to drag himself across the floor, over to his trusty Masamune Blade, which was almost within reach. In his mind, suicide by sword was a much more favorable experience than bleeding to death. Almost…got it…

A nurse came in, presumably from the second shift, to find a grim spectacle before her. Bodies laid every which-way throughout the halls.

Walking by the receptionist's desk, she looked down the hall to see a man dragging himself across the floor. "Are you alright, sir?"

The man slumped over, exhausted.

My lord, he's bleeding everywhere! Thought the nurse. Thinking quickly, she ran into the lobby and grabbed a stretcher, wheeling it over to where the man was heaped on the floor like a pile of bricks.

"Here, let me help you up!"

She's strong, thought Sephiroski as he was lifted against his will onto the hospital stretcher. He was laid out on the mobile bed as it was pushed to an empty operating room.

The nurse was met by some of her friends. "He's already lost a lot of blood. Andrew, get some blood packs."

"Shouldn't we do a blood test on him?" answered a male voice.

"He'll probably die before we get the results! Sophie, shoot him with morphine!"

"Got it." Replied a gruff female voice.

Sephiroski felt the IV go into his arm as the fluid was pumped at a steady rate into his bloodstream. His pain was swiftly numbed down until his whole body just felt like it was tingling...

An oxygen mask was fitted across Sephiroski's face. "Just breathe in and relax." Said the gruff female voice.

Just before he passed out, he heard a policeman come in. "Good job, guys. He's in our custody now." With that encouraging thought, Sephiroski drifted into dreamland.

Cloud Strife watched the nurses work with precision as they stitched up Sephiroski's wounds. At last, we've caught him. No more Zacks will be slain...no more martyrs for no cause... no more massacres like in this hospital. I didn't have to avenge Zack after all.

Despite the evidence in front of him, a voice in the back of Cloud's head told him that those were just mere speculations. Sephiroski would walk the streets again...

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