His fingers tapped irritably on the steering wheel he gripped, their beat
matching that of the random speed metal his radio was blasting out. He kept
his eyes focused behind the dark sunglasses that covered them; the road in
front of him stretching on for what seemed like infinity to him,
inexplicably leading him to the quiet little seaside village of Kalm. Of
all the goddamned places on this planet, Rude had to send me here. he's
smarter than I gave him credit for. Where else could Reno of the Turks
cause less havoc? Where else would Reno of the Turks be forced to give up
drinking? There was only one bar in Kalm, and that was run by someone he
had no intentions of ever bumping into again. Sure, it'd take some serious
work on his behalf, but meeting her again. that was one hell of a bad idea.
She'd kill him, and to be honest, he wouldn't blame her for it. In her
place, he'd do exactly the same. Here was the very same bastard who'd
killed thousands of people in one swift blow.
Reno shook his head; thinking like that was only gonna drag him further down the spiral. It was a vicious cycle; thinking about things like that made him upset, and being upset made him think of things like that. It was something he'd never escape; the innocent souls of thousands lay upon his hands and he could never wash them clean, they were eternally stained with blood. But they'd all been done for a reason. it was his duty. It was his job. He had to do it; it was what he was paid for, the dirty jobs Shinra didn't dare do publicly. But that was over and he was glad of it. He couldn't have picked anyone better to take over Shinra; Reeve may well be a bit of a pussy when it comes to battle, but h was a good person at heart, and whatever his ideals told him, he'd do the right thing. that was what's important, doing the right thing. If Reno had known how to do that, he'd never have squeezed the detonator.
Blinking furiously, Reno swerved around the eighteen-wheeler in front of him, his thoughts had dragged him away from his all too simple purpose; drive to Kalm and settle in for a long stay. Leviathan knew when he was going to get out of the hellhole he was about three miles away from; for all he knew, Rude intended to keep him there for the rest of his life. But then again, it could have been worse. it could have been Mideel.
Finally it appeared on the horizon; the small village that held within the key to a dark past he no longer wanted to relive. No good could come of this.
.oOo.
"My name is."
She paused, her heart fluttering. As she looked at the sea of faces around her, only one thought kept on running through her head: What the hell am I doing here? They all sat in their uncomfortable wooden chairs, looking up at her, the looks on their faces all asking the same question: What's she doing here? They just couldn't believe that 'She' was before them, that 'She' was a lost soul just like one of them.
"My name is Tifa Lockheart and I'm an alcoholic."
"Hello Tifa," came the obligatory chorus of voices. They didn't reply because they wanted to; it was required. They had to make the newbie feel welcome about sharing their thoughts. When it came down to it, who they were before didn't matter; they were a drunk. They were one of them now, another soul fighting against the addiction that ruled their lives. They were alcoholics; they lived their lives by the liquid demon. Every second without it was a struggle, whether they admitted it to themselves or not. They needed it, craved it, and loved it, all the same time as they hated it.
.and so they ended up here, an AA meeting. Alcoholics Anonymous. 'My name is . and I'm an alcoholic," was their calling card, the mark of every single meeting that had ever been. The new introduced themselves, shared their problems while the others nodded knowingly; they'd all been there so many years ago. Most of these meetings were headed by long-term members themselves; they'd seen and done it all themselves, they knew what would happen and could prepare for it.
"My problem started after the death of Sephiroth. My home for so many years had been destroyed and I had no place to go to anymore. Cloud was my only reason for living anymore. we settled here, in Kalm, starting up the only business I knew how to run; the Eighth Wonder bar. As long as Cloud and me were together, that was all that would matter.
"How silly that was. he didn't love me. The whole time, he didn't even know who he was. He loved Aeris, not me. He didn't know it and neither did I, but as time went by, he never said those words to me. I guess they meant more to me than I ever thought they could. He never told me that he loved me; that told me all I needed to know. Still, I refused to admit it to myself. For some reason, alcohol helped me, so I occasionally sought refuge in it. More time passed and still the words weren't coming. every day. every hour. every second without him saying it was like a torture to me. The only place I could hide from it was the bottom of a glass, but a glass can always be refilled, so there's a new bottom to seek.
"He loved Aeris, not me. I honestly don't know why he's still with me, but every moment he is, I'll treasure it. That's all I can hope for really. Maybe one day, in the future, I'll love someone who loves me back. I know it won't be Cloud, but I don't really care. I'm alive now, and that's what I must live for. While he's by my side now, I will be happy. While I have him with me, I will be alright. While he's still in my life, I won't drink. I don't need alcohol; it's only an excuse to forget all that holds me to this world. I will fight it and I will win; I fought for the planet against Sephiroth and won, I will defeat this enemy as well. I have no choice; either I do, or I die. That's always been the price of failure and I'm still living now. I will not lose now!"
Slowly, applause rang out around her. For a moment she was touched. the cared. They clapped for her strength. but then she realised that this was the same applause they gave everyone at AA meetings. They didn't clap because they wanted to; they applauded her because they had to. They were obligated.
Tifa sank down into her chair and as another lost soul told the story of their spiral into alcoholicism, she thought about what she had done with her life. Her hometown had been destroyed by Sephiroth and she'd spent the rest of her life seeking revenge for that. She may have claimed she was protecting the planet, but it had always been about Sephiroth. She had indeed saved the world; people all over the planet knew her name. That didn't make the pain go away though; none of them actually knew her. They knew a generalisation, a gross one at that, of her personality, but that wasn't really her. In reality, she had done nothing with her life. She hadn't made a good life for herself; she wasn't in a loving relationship, she had no family, she didn't have an incredibly successful job. The superstar version of herself was a myth; it didn't really exist. That life was a lie, but so was her real life. She was in a loveless relationship, a dead-end job and no prospects to ever making it better. It was fake. it was all fake.
She found herself clapping along with the others. Apparently another sob story had ended and another was about to begin. So what? This was reality; you had to deal with it. There was no other option.
.oOo.
The red convertible flew around a corner, its wheels spinning wildly as it sought to gain a purchase upon the dusty road. The driver, spotting his target, pushed the accelerator pedal to the floor. As he grew over closer to the white building, he suddenly grabbed the handbrake and yanking hard on it while squeezing the clutch, performing a one hundred and thirty degree tailspin, bringing the car to a halt, half on and half off the set of steps leading inside. A door opened and two men in navy blue suits came out, both wearing shirts and ties as well.
"You can't park that car there sir. Now get it the hell outta here!" said the first one, his arms folded across his chest. As the cars owner got out of the car, the second man stiffened, but the first one never noticed this. As the driver walked straight up to him, he reached for the nightstick at his belt, but a fist clamped around his wrist.
"I wouldn't suggest doing that boy. You'll end up with that fucking thing up your arse quicker than you can say Jack Daniels."
"Who the hell do you think you are?" the Turk whispered sibilantly to the redhead before him, wearing a particularly loud Costan shirt.
Finally the second Turk spoke. "He would think he's Reno of the Turks, our new Commander, and I'd think that you're in for a whole world of shit right now Jan."
The colour drained straight from the first Turks face in realisation of what he had been about to do; attacking a senior officer wasn't actually a punishable offence in the Turks, but that was due to the fact that the senior officers always won the fights, and usually quite brutally. The Turks didn't do office politics; they held office death matches.
Releasing the younger Turk's wrist, Reno appraised the two men before him. They certainly looked the part as Turks, but a lot of people could look good in the uniform; it was their cool under pressure that made them a force to be reckoned with.
"What can we do for you sir?" asked the second Turk.
"First, you can tell me your name, and secondly, you can tell me how you knew I was your new commander. I know Rude didn't pass word down about that yet; I've got the official documentation in the car."
"My name's Raphael, and I know about your posting here via personal sources. I believe you know my sister."
".Naomi? You're Naomi Sutherlands brother?"
"Because of your deeds in Junon, I still have the pleasure of having a sister. For that you have my and my family's eternal gratitude. It will be an honour to serve under you."
"Stick your nose any further up his arse and it'll be stained for life," sniggered the one called Jan. His brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, showing the ugly purple scar that trailed itself across his forehead, inflicted two years earlier in the devastation of Midgar by Diamond Weapon.
Reno cracked a grin before shaking his head. "Just doing my job Raphael. Now, is one of you two fucktards gonna show me around the place or what?"
Jan started laughing while a scowl took place upon Raphael's face. "I think we're gonna get along just fine Reno," said the pony-tailed Turk, as he turned to go inside.
Reno followed him, turning around to admire his parking one last time, thinking to himself. Maybe this place won't be so bad after all.
.oOo.
"Remember, take it one day at a time and we can all beat it together. Same time next week folks."
With that, the meeting was officially closed. The sound of chairs scraping across the wooden floor flooded the room as they all rose en masse, making their way listlessly to the exit. Tifa found herself caught in the throng and let it guide her out in the rapidly darkening world outside. Dusk had started nearly ten minutes ago and the sky was a heavy grey; thick clouds blocking out the starlight that she loved. She felt like she was drowning; the only way out was to drink it all away, but she couldn't give in that easily.
Silently she trudged through the gloomy streets until she came across the place that she called home. It lent itself to the rest of its surroundings; wood log outer layering giving it the appearance of being an old-fashioned log cabin. A simple sign was above the door; no neon lights, just an old- fashioned oil lamp that swayed to and fro each time the wind caught it, casting light upon the lettering that marked this place as the Eight Wonder - her home. She, Tifa Lockheart, saviour of the world, alcoholic and all- round good time gal worked in a bar. Oh, the irony of it all. her very livelihood depended on alcohol, yet it was also the curse she carried around with her. But what did that matter to her? She was out of that; she'd given up the drink. hadn't she? Its allure was still as verdant as ever, but she couldn't fail Cloud Marlene or the rest of her friends. No, she had to be strong. it was her duty. This was her purgatory; to stay strong for all the other people she cared for.
Tifa walked to the door and laid her palm against it, ready to push it open inwards, but she paused. No, she didn't want to make a grand entrance now, did she? She walked around the back and took the delivery entrance instead; the only witness to her entrance being Misty. She could have gone to the bar and helped out Yvonne and Cloud in serving the customers, but she didn't feel quite feel up to it. Instead, she headed up the stairs to the bathroom, setting the hot water tap running before going into the bedroom. Pulling off the blue tanktop, her fingers hesitated over the buttons of the white shirt underneath. She shook her head before continuing on with the small task of undressing herself. Naked, she headed back to the bathroom where steam was rising from the bathtub. She turned the hot tap half of the way back while turning the cold all the way to full power. She sat upon the toilet as the bathtub grew ever closer to being full enough.
As the water reached a level she deemed satisfactory, she turned both taps off, before slowly lowering herself in, the customary ripples lapping at her naked body. The water relieved her of her duties, her promises and her hassles; in this bath she was merely Tifa Lockheart, a young woman, born and bred in Nibelhiem. She hadn't saved the world, she wasn't in love with Cloud; she had nothing to tie her to reality. She was floating on the past. that was something that could always pacify her, Memories of Nibelhiem; her childhood, growing up to defy all that her father had said. Her mother had died years ago, disease taking her away. No, she had been brought up by her father; taught to do all of the things that he felt a girl of her age should know. She knew how to cook, how to be polite and how to play the piano, but none of these things really helped her in life. The only thing she'd learnt that helped her was the art of Sungei na Zangen; the martial art taught to her by her old master, Zangan. She had never known more of his name than that; he was always Master or Master Zangan. Yet still. when he died, it hurt her so much. She guessed it was because he was the first person to teach her something she had actually wanted to learn herself, not something that was expected of her. No, this was something that truly belonged to her.
Slowly, she let herself sink underneath the water, holding her breath as long as she could. The water and the past encased her as one; the three of them combining to form a single whole.
"Isn't the water cold by now Teef'?"
She awoke with a start, a voice summoning her from her requiem. She wrapped one arm around her breasts, the other covering her vagina in shock, before she came to realise it was Cloud who sat upon the rim of the bathtub. She shivered as the cold of the water suffused her; her nipples quickly becoming hard. She reached her arms out, Cloud quickly taking them and helping her out of the bath.
"I closed and cleaned the place up already, so need to worry about any of that now, Teef'," he said as he wrapped a towel around her. The cottony fabric warmed her skin; it felt like she was surrounded by feathers as he guided her towards the bedroom. For some reason, her mind was confused; nothing seemed right to her whatsoever. She found herself slowly falling backwards, onto the bed. She felt him enter her, but none of it seemed real. She felt his body tense above her, yet it seemed so false. She was somewhere else, just as she knew he was. No; this was all a lie; a lie made to convince themselves that what they had was real. The walls of her heart caved in, reality plummeting through the depths, only to be smashed upon the rocks at the bottom of the waterfall.
.oOo.
"So, you know anywhere good to drink around here?" came the inevitable question.
"Well, there's two places, but I don't think you'll be going to one of them for sure."
"Let me guess; the Eighth Wonder and right here in my new office. And I'll bet the place you're referring to is the Eighth Wonder."
"Got it in one Reno," said Jan, leaning back in the chair, making it issue an agonising screech. "I doubt a certain Miss Tifa Lockheart will be wanting to see you any time soon. Not after Sector Seven."
"What happened in Sector Seven?" came a voice. Raphael watched both of their faces, but neither Jan or Reno were giving away anything.
After a long pause, Reno finally spoke: "I killed over a thousand people in one night, that's what happened."
"Th. that was you? It was a Turks operation?"
"Yeah, back in the days of President Shinra. AVALANCHE had been giving us a few problems so we were ordered to take out the plate. Back then, we always did what we were told, no questions asked. We weren't paid to have consciences."
"How do you live with yourself after that?"
"You don't. You become someone new. someone less than your old self." Reno swivelled in his seat to see Jan nodding in consent; he knew what it was like to have to do things any normal person would refuse to. "So, if we're gonna be drinking here, then where the fuck's the booze?"
Jan reached inside of his jacket, pulling out a large, four-litre bottle of Strechnaya Vodka. "The real shit, brewed by the archaeologists up in Fossil Canyon. When you turned up earlier and Raphael so kindly introduced us all, I thought it might be a good idea to nab this out of my locker."
"A man after my own heart, I see. Alright, lets get started!"
"But we don't have any glasses chipped in Raphael, but he was met by shakes of the head from both Reno and Jan.
"Who needs glasses?" said the latter, his ponytail bobbing about as he spoke. "Take it like a real man, straight from the bottle."
Unscrewing the cap with one firm twist, Jan took a big swig from the bottle, before handing it over to Reno who did likewise. Raphael found the bottle proffered to him; holding his breath, he took a pull into his mouth and swallowed, the alcohol burning his throat and warming his chest. It tasted so foul, yet it seemed so right. could this be what it means to be a Turk?
Reno shook his head; thinking like that was only gonna drag him further down the spiral. It was a vicious cycle; thinking about things like that made him upset, and being upset made him think of things like that. It was something he'd never escape; the innocent souls of thousands lay upon his hands and he could never wash them clean, they were eternally stained with blood. But they'd all been done for a reason. it was his duty. It was his job. He had to do it; it was what he was paid for, the dirty jobs Shinra didn't dare do publicly. But that was over and he was glad of it. He couldn't have picked anyone better to take over Shinra; Reeve may well be a bit of a pussy when it comes to battle, but h was a good person at heart, and whatever his ideals told him, he'd do the right thing. that was what's important, doing the right thing. If Reno had known how to do that, he'd never have squeezed the detonator.
Blinking furiously, Reno swerved around the eighteen-wheeler in front of him, his thoughts had dragged him away from his all too simple purpose; drive to Kalm and settle in for a long stay. Leviathan knew when he was going to get out of the hellhole he was about three miles away from; for all he knew, Rude intended to keep him there for the rest of his life. But then again, it could have been worse. it could have been Mideel.
Finally it appeared on the horizon; the small village that held within the key to a dark past he no longer wanted to relive. No good could come of this.
.oOo.
"My name is."
She paused, her heart fluttering. As she looked at the sea of faces around her, only one thought kept on running through her head: What the hell am I doing here? They all sat in their uncomfortable wooden chairs, looking up at her, the looks on their faces all asking the same question: What's she doing here? They just couldn't believe that 'She' was before them, that 'She' was a lost soul just like one of them.
"My name is Tifa Lockheart and I'm an alcoholic."
"Hello Tifa," came the obligatory chorus of voices. They didn't reply because they wanted to; it was required. They had to make the newbie feel welcome about sharing their thoughts. When it came down to it, who they were before didn't matter; they were a drunk. They were one of them now, another soul fighting against the addiction that ruled their lives. They were alcoholics; they lived their lives by the liquid demon. Every second without it was a struggle, whether they admitted it to themselves or not. They needed it, craved it, and loved it, all the same time as they hated it.
.and so they ended up here, an AA meeting. Alcoholics Anonymous. 'My name is . and I'm an alcoholic," was their calling card, the mark of every single meeting that had ever been. The new introduced themselves, shared their problems while the others nodded knowingly; they'd all been there so many years ago. Most of these meetings were headed by long-term members themselves; they'd seen and done it all themselves, they knew what would happen and could prepare for it.
"My problem started after the death of Sephiroth. My home for so many years had been destroyed and I had no place to go to anymore. Cloud was my only reason for living anymore. we settled here, in Kalm, starting up the only business I knew how to run; the Eighth Wonder bar. As long as Cloud and me were together, that was all that would matter.
"How silly that was. he didn't love me. The whole time, he didn't even know who he was. He loved Aeris, not me. He didn't know it and neither did I, but as time went by, he never said those words to me. I guess they meant more to me than I ever thought they could. He never told me that he loved me; that told me all I needed to know. Still, I refused to admit it to myself. For some reason, alcohol helped me, so I occasionally sought refuge in it. More time passed and still the words weren't coming. every day. every hour. every second without him saying it was like a torture to me. The only place I could hide from it was the bottom of a glass, but a glass can always be refilled, so there's a new bottom to seek.
"He loved Aeris, not me. I honestly don't know why he's still with me, but every moment he is, I'll treasure it. That's all I can hope for really. Maybe one day, in the future, I'll love someone who loves me back. I know it won't be Cloud, but I don't really care. I'm alive now, and that's what I must live for. While he's by my side now, I will be happy. While I have him with me, I will be alright. While he's still in my life, I won't drink. I don't need alcohol; it's only an excuse to forget all that holds me to this world. I will fight it and I will win; I fought for the planet against Sephiroth and won, I will defeat this enemy as well. I have no choice; either I do, or I die. That's always been the price of failure and I'm still living now. I will not lose now!"
Slowly, applause rang out around her. For a moment she was touched. the cared. They clapped for her strength. but then she realised that this was the same applause they gave everyone at AA meetings. They didn't clap because they wanted to; they applauded her because they had to. They were obligated.
Tifa sank down into her chair and as another lost soul told the story of their spiral into alcoholicism, she thought about what she had done with her life. Her hometown had been destroyed by Sephiroth and she'd spent the rest of her life seeking revenge for that. She may have claimed she was protecting the planet, but it had always been about Sephiroth. She had indeed saved the world; people all over the planet knew her name. That didn't make the pain go away though; none of them actually knew her. They knew a generalisation, a gross one at that, of her personality, but that wasn't really her. In reality, she had done nothing with her life. She hadn't made a good life for herself; she wasn't in a loving relationship, she had no family, she didn't have an incredibly successful job. The superstar version of herself was a myth; it didn't really exist. That life was a lie, but so was her real life. She was in a loveless relationship, a dead-end job and no prospects to ever making it better. It was fake. it was all fake.
She found herself clapping along with the others. Apparently another sob story had ended and another was about to begin. So what? This was reality; you had to deal with it. There was no other option.
.oOo.
The red convertible flew around a corner, its wheels spinning wildly as it sought to gain a purchase upon the dusty road. The driver, spotting his target, pushed the accelerator pedal to the floor. As he grew over closer to the white building, he suddenly grabbed the handbrake and yanking hard on it while squeezing the clutch, performing a one hundred and thirty degree tailspin, bringing the car to a halt, half on and half off the set of steps leading inside. A door opened and two men in navy blue suits came out, both wearing shirts and ties as well.
"You can't park that car there sir. Now get it the hell outta here!" said the first one, his arms folded across his chest. As the cars owner got out of the car, the second man stiffened, but the first one never noticed this. As the driver walked straight up to him, he reached for the nightstick at his belt, but a fist clamped around his wrist.
"I wouldn't suggest doing that boy. You'll end up with that fucking thing up your arse quicker than you can say Jack Daniels."
"Who the hell do you think you are?" the Turk whispered sibilantly to the redhead before him, wearing a particularly loud Costan shirt.
Finally the second Turk spoke. "He would think he's Reno of the Turks, our new Commander, and I'd think that you're in for a whole world of shit right now Jan."
The colour drained straight from the first Turks face in realisation of what he had been about to do; attacking a senior officer wasn't actually a punishable offence in the Turks, but that was due to the fact that the senior officers always won the fights, and usually quite brutally. The Turks didn't do office politics; they held office death matches.
Releasing the younger Turk's wrist, Reno appraised the two men before him. They certainly looked the part as Turks, but a lot of people could look good in the uniform; it was their cool under pressure that made them a force to be reckoned with.
"What can we do for you sir?" asked the second Turk.
"First, you can tell me your name, and secondly, you can tell me how you knew I was your new commander. I know Rude didn't pass word down about that yet; I've got the official documentation in the car."
"My name's Raphael, and I know about your posting here via personal sources. I believe you know my sister."
".Naomi? You're Naomi Sutherlands brother?"
"Because of your deeds in Junon, I still have the pleasure of having a sister. For that you have my and my family's eternal gratitude. It will be an honour to serve under you."
"Stick your nose any further up his arse and it'll be stained for life," sniggered the one called Jan. His brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, showing the ugly purple scar that trailed itself across his forehead, inflicted two years earlier in the devastation of Midgar by Diamond Weapon.
Reno cracked a grin before shaking his head. "Just doing my job Raphael. Now, is one of you two fucktards gonna show me around the place or what?"
Jan started laughing while a scowl took place upon Raphael's face. "I think we're gonna get along just fine Reno," said the pony-tailed Turk, as he turned to go inside.
Reno followed him, turning around to admire his parking one last time, thinking to himself. Maybe this place won't be so bad after all.
.oOo.
"Remember, take it one day at a time and we can all beat it together. Same time next week folks."
With that, the meeting was officially closed. The sound of chairs scraping across the wooden floor flooded the room as they all rose en masse, making their way listlessly to the exit. Tifa found herself caught in the throng and let it guide her out in the rapidly darkening world outside. Dusk had started nearly ten minutes ago and the sky was a heavy grey; thick clouds blocking out the starlight that she loved. She felt like she was drowning; the only way out was to drink it all away, but she couldn't give in that easily.
Silently she trudged through the gloomy streets until she came across the place that she called home. It lent itself to the rest of its surroundings; wood log outer layering giving it the appearance of being an old-fashioned log cabin. A simple sign was above the door; no neon lights, just an old- fashioned oil lamp that swayed to and fro each time the wind caught it, casting light upon the lettering that marked this place as the Eight Wonder - her home. She, Tifa Lockheart, saviour of the world, alcoholic and all- round good time gal worked in a bar. Oh, the irony of it all. her very livelihood depended on alcohol, yet it was also the curse she carried around with her. But what did that matter to her? She was out of that; she'd given up the drink. hadn't she? Its allure was still as verdant as ever, but she couldn't fail Cloud Marlene or the rest of her friends. No, she had to be strong. it was her duty. This was her purgatory; to stay strong for all the other people she cared for.
Tifa walked to the door and laid her palm against it, ready to push it open inwards, but she paused. No, she didn't want to make a grand entrance now, did she? She walked around the back and took the delivery entrance instead; the only witness to her entrance being Misty. She could have gone to the bar and helped out Yvonne and Cloud in serving the customers, but she didn't feel quite feel up to it. Instead, she headed up the stairs to the bathroom, setting the hot water tap running before going into the bedroom. Pulling off the blue tanktop, her fingers hesitated over the buttons of the white shirt underneath. She shook her head before continuing on with the small task of undressing herself. Naked, she headed back to the bathroom where steam was rising from the bathtub. She turned the hot tap half of the way back while turning the cold all the way to full power. She sat upon the toilet as the bathtub grew ever closer to being full enough.
As the water reached a level she deemed satisfactory, she turned both taps off, before slowly lowering herself in, the customary ripples lapping at her naked body. The water relieved her of her duties, her promises and her hassles; in this bath she was merely Tifa Lockheart, a young woman, born and bred in Nibelhiem. She hadn't saved the world, she wasn't in love with Cloud; she had nothing to tie her to reality. She was floating on the past. that was something that could always pacify her, Memories of Nibelhiem; her childhood, growing up to defy all that her father had said. Her mother had died years ago, disease taking her away. No, she had been brought up by her father; taught to do all of the things that he felt a girl of her age should know. She knew how to cook, how to be polite and how to play the piano, but none of these things really helped her in life. The only thing she'd learnt that helped her was the art of Sungei na Zangen; the martial art taught to her by her old master, Zangan. She had never known more of his name than that; he was always Master or Master Zangan. Yet still. when he died, it hurt her so much. She guessed it was because he was the first person to teach her something she had actually wanted to learn herself, not something that was expected of her. No, this was something that truly belonged to her.
Slowly, she let herself sink underneath the water, holding her breath as long as she could. The water and the past encased her as one; the three of them combining to form a single whole.
"Isn't the water cold by now Teef'?"
She awoke with a start, a voice summoning her from her requiem. She wrapped one arm around her breasts, the other covering her vagina in shock, before she came to realise it was Cloud who sat upon the rim of the bathtub. She shivered as the cold of the water suffused her; her nipples quickly becoming hard. She reached her arms out, Cloud quickly taking them and helping her out of the bath.
"I closed and cleaned the place up already, so need to worry about any of that now, Teef'," he said as he wrapped a towel around her. The cottony fabric warmed her skin; it felt like she was surrounded by feathers as he guided her towards the bedroom. For some reason, her mind was confused; nothing seemed right to her whatsoever. She found herself slowly falling backwards, onto the bed. She felt him enter her, but none of it seemed real. She felt his body tense above her, yet it seemed so false. She was somewhere else, just as she knew he was. No; this was all a lie; a lie made to convince themselves that what they had was real. The walls of her heart caved in, reality plummeting through the depths, only to be smashed upon the rocks at the bottom of the waterfall.
.oOo.
"So, you know anywhere good to drink around here?" came the inevitable question.
"Well, there's two places, but I don't think you'll be going to one of them for sure."
"Let me guess; the Eighth Wonder and right here in my new office. And I'll bet the place you're referring to is the Eighth Wonder."
"Got it in one Reno," said Jan, leaning back in the chair, making it issue an agonising screech. "I doubt a certain Miss Tifa Lockheart will be wanting to see you any time soon. Not after Sector Seven."
"What happened in Sector Seven?" came a voice. Raphael watched both of their faces, but neither Jan or Reno were giving away anything.
After a long pause, Reno finally spoke: "I killed over a thousand people in one night, that's what happened."
"Th. that was you? It was a Turks operation?"
"Yeah, back in the days of President Shinra. AVALANCHE had been giving us a few problems so we were ordered to take out the plate. Back then, we always did what we were told, no questions asked. We weren't paid to have consciences."
"How do you live with yourself after that?"
"You don't. You become someone new. someone less than your old self." Reno swivelled in his seat to see Jan nodding in consent; he knew what it was like to have to do things any normal person would refuse to. "So, if we're gonna be drinking here, then where the fuck's the booze?"
Jan reached inside of his jacket, pulling out a large, four-litre bottle of Strechnaya Vodka. "The real shit, brewed by the archaeologists up in Fossil Canyon. When you turned up earlier and Raphael so kindly introduced us all, I thought it might be a good idea to nab this out of my locker."
"A man after my own heart, I see. Alright, lets get started!"
"But we don't have any glasses chipped in Raphael, but he was met by shakes of the head from both Reno and Jan.
"Who needs glasses?" said the latter, his ponytail bobbing about as he spoke. "Take it like a real man, straight from the bottle."
Unscrewing the cap with one firm twist, Jan took a big swig from the bottle, before handing it over to Reno who did likewise. Raphael found the bottle proffered to him; holding his breath, he took a pull into his mouth and swallowed, the alcohol burning his throat and warming his chest. It tasted so foul, yet it seemed so right. could this be what it means to be a Turk?