Reno huddled up next to some large wooden crates in the cargo hold of the small merchant vessel he'd snuck onto, far too edgy to even think about settling down for the night. Under any other circumstances he would never have chosen a night crossing, but after what he'd just done hanging around in Junon until daybreak would be tantamount to suicide. They would almost certainly be looking for him by now. Why had he messed things up, tonight of all nights, and tripped an alarm? Probably beacuse he was still in shock from what he'd found. Reno started to drum his fingers on the small, battered satchel beside him. It contained everything he had to his name after his hasty departure from Junon, except the clothes he was wearing and the gun he held half ready in his right hand. He hadn't had time to stop by at his apartment and pick up everything he'd prepared, and anyway it would have been far too risky. So all he had were a few essentials and barely enough gil to last him a week, but that didn't bother him too much. This wasn't the first time he'd had to survive on practically nothing, and he knew plenty of ways to make money, though a third of them were dangerous, a further third were illegal and all the rest were both. Anyway, there was one other thing in there, and that was priceless.
Heavy footsteps on the deck above him caused Reno to tense again and hold his breath until they passed. When they finally died down he shook himself and ran a frustrated hand through his unkempt red hair. His usual cool, professional composure had really gone out of the window tonight. Why the hell am I still sober? was his first thought on the subject. I need a drink. He rooted around hopefully in his bag, but drew a blank. Instead he leant back against the boat's curved hull and listened to the sounds around him. The hum of the engine, the waves against the hull, an occasional creak from one of the crates. Reno frowned. There was something else niggling at him on the edge of his hearing, something that shouldn't be there. As he listened the noise gradually got louder, until he realised with growing unease what it was. Another boat. Smaller, faster, gaining on this one. The noise kept getting louder until Reno could only assume the two boats were right beside each other. Then both engine sounds changed, and the floor lurched slightly. Reno pulled himself up into a crouch and stayed there for what seemed like forever, until there were more footsteps and voices on the deck.
"...dangerous, you say?" Deep, gruff, slightly concerned. The captain.
"Don't worry. If he's here, we can handle him." Cooler, professional, confident. Reno smiled slightly. He doubted they could 'handle him'. He hadn't been a Turk for nothing. But that still didn't mean he wanted to be found.
"Damn glad somebody cares about ordinary peoples' security nowadays. Things've been terrible around here since Shinra went under."
"Kielestis will take care of things." A pause. "You check out the cargo hold. I'll search the rest of the ship."
"But..." A new voice, quickly cut short.
"Just do it."
Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit! Reno scurried deeper into the maze of crates as the trapdoor above and to his right creaked open, shedding a rectange of pale light on the contents of the small hold. As footsteps cautiously decended the steep stairs from above he hastily cast his eyes around for somewhere to hide. Right above him most of the top row of crates was incomplete, leaving an alcove well above eye level. As he climbed up, as quickly and quietly as he could, he saw flash of light out of the corner of his eye and heard the footsteps come steadily closer, though not directly to his hiding place. Once firmly positioned on top of the crates he pressed his back firmly against the crate behind him and silently readied his gun. He didn't want to have to fight his way out of this, but if the worst came to the worst it was his only realistic option. He closed his green eyes and held his breath as he heard his would-be persuer right under him. Great gods, don't look up he thought as he fought the tempation to creep over and get a glimpse of the man under him. He hadn't recognised either of the voices, and wanted to know what he might be up against. There hadn't been any footsteps for a while, but niether had he felt the torch beam fall across him. What the hell are you doing? Get back up on deck and tell your boss there's no one down here.
"Any luck?" someone shouted from on deck.
"Yeah. He's not here."
"Coward." More footsteps on the stairs, but decending. "This is the last one. Perhaps the son of a bitch isn't as smart as we thought. They've probably already got him back in Junon. Bet he never even skipped town. Come on."
Reno allowed himself to breathe as he heard the sound of footfalls from below get steadily further away. He listened to the fading voices.
"I knew we never should've trusted that one. Gutter scum through and through. Looked like the type who'd sell his own grandmother if the price was right..."
If I had ten gil for every time someone said that about me I could buy your damn company.
Soon the boat lurched into motion again and Reno allowed himself to relax, sitting down and lazily stretching his legs out in front of him. He felt more secure now that he knew he was safe, at least for tonight. Now was probably the time to get some sleep before arriving at Costa del Sol. He considered going back down to where he had been before, but decided against it. It was no less uncomfortable down there, and here there was less chance of him being spotted. He yawned and lay down, using his satchel as a makeshift pillow, and tried in vain to make himself more comfortable. He ended up on his back, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling and wondering how and why he'd ever gotten into this mess. He'd just put himself right back to where he had been a little less than a year ago. No job, no home, no money. In fact it was worse; he was sober enough to be able to think about his situation and given a few days there would probably be a price on his head. All for a few pieces of paper. The outline of one of Kielestis Inc.'s upcoming projects.
Akurei Inc. would almost certainly give him a small fortune for it. But he wasn't going to them.
JV/101/2 stood in the doorway to the scientific records section of the library, her arms folded and a deep frown across her face. She had known something had been wrong the moment she got to this floor, but she hadn't been able to put her finger on it until now. Someone had been here. Not just someone, but a group of people. And recently. So recently she could still smell them, faintly but clearly. That put it within a few days ago. Records had been searched through and stacked and ordered neatly, unlike in the other sections were they were strewn around the place part covered in rubble. And the most classified sections had been broken into, obviously with care, and the contents were missing, though there was a possiblilty they were somewhere in the the many piles of documents. Without really knowing what to look for or whether she was looking in the right place JV/101/2 started to search through the documents. She didn't expect to find exactly what she wanted, or even anything close, but there had to be something, some clue...
A word in the title of one of the documents on top of a pile. "Cetra". She knew that word. Most of all, she knew it in connection to her, not just as something to do with one on the many projects Hojo talked about seemingly regardless of whether she was listening or not. JV/101/2 quickly flicked through the pile, glancing at each title in turn. They were all to do with the Ancients, the Cetra. Noticing the mix of classified and unclassified reports she felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps there was more here than she had dared to imagine. Perhaps nothing had actually been taken...no, that was ridiculous. Whoever had been here had a very definite purpose, and probably knew what they wanted and had taken only that. She began to search again, this time with more purpose, leaving the Cetra documents by the door. She had suddenly realised exactly what it was that she needed to find.
After searching each pile, first quickly, then more throughly, and finally by skimming each document with supernatural speed, she realised with cold rage that someone had gotten there first. Everything on the Jenova project and everything on the biological alterations made to members of SOLDIER was missing. Why? Why did it have to be one thing she knew would help her find out more? JV/101/2 took a deep breath. There was nothing she could do about it right now. Instead she turned and left the small room, pausing to pick up the collection of documents she had picked out during her search. Quickly scaling the stairs up the four stories to the blown out floor she had found the day before, she sat down by the gently rippling pool of water and started to read.
The sun was setting by the time JV/101/2 finished reading the last report. As she had suspected, nothing that she could pin down as definately involved in her own creation, but now she had a lot more information on which to consider any theories. Dropping the document in her hands down onto the rough pile beside her she got up and paced over to the edge of the floor, looking across at the city as she had the previous day, rather than down at the nearly seventy story drop. In the red light from the setting sun Midgar looked like something from a nightmare - empty, blasted shells of buildings, black forms picked out in deep, dull red where the light fell on them, the water in the streets and roads reflecting the crimson sky making it look as if they were flowing with lava or blood, and the whole scene was covered in a red haze as the sunset streamed through the fog. JV/101/2 gazed unemotionally over the city. What now? She was quite sure there was nothing left here that she needed, and nothing out there in the city. But where did she go now? What did she have to do?
Closing her eyes JV/101/2 reached out through the silent, black expanse...
...Jenova...?
...and reeled backwards, bringing her hands up to her head as a scream ripped through her mind, accompanied by an intense pain that shot through her whole body, driving her to her knees. The screaming continued, rising as if more voices were constantly being added to it, producing a choral cachophany of pain, fear, sorrow and rage. The pain also escalated, until all she could do was kneel dangerously close the massive drop, her palms clamped protectively over her ears though the world around her was still as silent as death, and her fingertips digging firmly into her scalp. The agony continued for long seconds, until she screamed out loud in desperation.
"Stop! I'll do what I can! Just stop!"
The pain and the screaming slowly faded, leaving JV/101/2 still kneeling, trembling slightly, sweating and breathing deeply, her head down and her black hair covering her face. The sun had set and stars were beginning to come out as she rose, then turned, took a few paces, and stared down at her moonlit reflection in the still pool. The woman looking back at her was just a shade under six feet tall, slenderly built, with delicate yet sharply defined features on pale skin that gave a deep contast to her jet black hair. That was pulled back, aside from a few stray strands dangling over her face, into an elaborate knot at the back of her head held in place with two hairpins, then flowed down her back in a thick mass of dark tresses. She was dressed entirely in black, with a heavy belt fastened loosely around her thin waist. Her katana, Yamisakki, hung from the belt but was carefully consealed under a long trenchcoat, as were the few orbs of materia she had found. Despite this she kept the trenchcoat unbuttoned, as if she had nothing to hide. JV/101/2 studied herself critically. At a glance she would probably pass for normal, if it wasn't for her eyes. They were a deep, clear, emerald green, and they glowed strongly in the dark night. Still, she could probably do something to hide them. She was almost ready for the outside world. Just one more thing. She needed a name.
JV/101/2, Specimen 2. That was what she had always been, and she had always hated it. She was more than just a project and a number. As that thought ran through her mind she subconsciously flexed the fingers of her left hand, gloved to hide the physical mark from the world though it could do nothing for the scar in her mind. No, that stopped here. She was in control now. A new being, born from the ashes of Midgar. Having a name was important, to who she was now if not to what she had been. But what? Did it matter? Probably. Her name would be what defined her. But would a name she had given herself carry any meaning, especially when she had little idea of who and what she was?
JV/101/2 found herself looking down at her reflection again, and the starry sky also caught in the still pool. She looked quite sinister, with her pale skin, black hair and clothes, and glowing eyes. Perhaps her name should reflect that. Perhaps she should just wait until something that seemed right came to her mind. That seemed like a good idea. She could probably gain deeper insight into herself from gut feeling than conscious thought.
Aside from that, a plan was forming in JV/101/2's mind. She knew what her next step would be, and the type of place she needed to get to, if not its geographical location. Another search of the library would probably tell her that. This would probably be the last night she spent in Midgar, so she had better prepare herself. There was all ready a good supply of useful items in her room; the building have obviously been abandoned so quickly that no one had bothered to collect their belongings. She also had materia and her weapon, so she could defend herself if necessary. Drawing Yamisakki in a single smooth movement, JV/101/2 held it up in front of her, looking at it properly for the first time in many years. It had become so familiar that she had barely noted its appearance for some time. Now she did her best to take in everything. The blade was of a dark, dull metal, a good size but fortunately not so long or bulky that it couldn't be concealed. The only mark on it was the inscription in ancient Wutain just above the hilt. JV/101/2 weighed the sword in her hand, then took an experimental swipe which quickly turned into the first few moves of one of her katas. She performed the moves quickly and gracefully, and with absolute precision. That, after all, was one of the few activities she had ever been able to do during the long stretches of time she had been forced to spend alone. It was study, or sleep, or do nothing at all, or practise her moves to ultimate perfection. But despite her speed and skill it was a sterile perfection - she had never actually faced a real opponent. Still, she thought with a slight smile, there was a first time for everything.
After smoothly steeping through another, higher kata and assuring herself that her skills had not faded with however long a time she had spent asleep, JV/101/2 sheathed Yamisakki and headed back down to her room. She wanted to be ready to leave as soon as she woke up, as she had an uneasy feeling that any delay would bring on a repeat of the hot flashes of pain that had wracked her body only a short time ago. Anyway, she had neither need nor desire to stay.
Chapter 2 done. Not much has happened yet, but be patient... the next chapter will start bringing things together. Consider what I have to do - give you a bit of an idea of my vision of the post-Shinra world, bring the original team back together, with convincing reason, work on new charaters as well as the ones we already have background on from the game, get the story going in the right direction, etc., etc.... I'd like to see you do better, especially without... no, that would give far too much away. I've already said too much, so I shall take my own advice. Sayonara - Anguipes Seraph