Awareness flooded his senses; a millennia of sleep burst in a bubble around him. He slowly opened his eyes, pupils dilated to take in the diffused light of the cavern. His limbs moved stiffly as he stood. Tendrils of silver hair hung in his face and down his back. The man flexed fingers unused to movement and surveyed his surroundings. Milky white metal spiderwebbed across the walls to the distant ceiling. The path at his feet ran to a small opening on the far side of the cave, its distance obscured in the darkness. A discarded white object carelessly tossed into a corner seemed to glow in the contrasting darkness. The man bent over to pick it up and wrapped it around his muscular form. The coat draped nearly to his knees. He pulled his hair from beneath the collar and buttoned up the front. The man examined the blue pen in his pocket, strange and familiar at the same time.
Softly, he padded down the path and into the other corridor, musing to himself, I've been here before. Once, long ago. His fingers brushed the wall as he studied the shining metal veins. There had been people here, years ago, in this abandoned cavern. Thick gouges scared the walls, any evidence of virgin ore stripped away by men for the mountain's bounty and then they left for more fertile grounds. The man looked away from the rock and toward the distant sound of wind, moaning in the dark. He continued, reveling in the new sounds comfortable in his ears. As if in a dream, the man found his way through the labrynthine passage. At each fork he paused, mentally reciting the different paths and what dangers they contained. He had no fear, even with the certainty of the violent creatures residing here. There had never been any time that he had felt anything other than confidence, almost arrogance, of his abilities. Nothing could hurt him. But something did. Before. A vision of darkness, blood and a blinding blue rushed into his memory. He stumbled into the wall, collecting his frayed nerves. The man wiped sweat from his brow, feeling it between his fingers, examining it. What is this feeling? Is it ...fear? He thought a moment longer, storing this new sensation in his memory. Even in all this backwards knowledge in his memory, fear still remained an enigma.
He raised his head to the turn in the path, the sound of the wind rising in a crescendo. The last few meters passed swiftly as he turned the corner. Stepping out of the shadow, he raised his hand to shield himself from the blinding light. A shock of cold air caressed his bare ankles and unprotected face. Eyes narrowed and pupils slit in the unaccostomed daylight, he examined his new surroundings. Marshes stretched across to the horizon and mountains raised their dark sides to him. A bare trunk of a tree stood to his left, lengths of bleached bone surrounding the withered roots. The skull of the fabulous beast rested near him, green moss beginning to claim the exposed surface. And what are you? he thought. Bending over, he gently brushed a bit of the lichen away and rested his palm on the smooth surface.
Silver blade flashing furiously in the dawn, the silver-haired man struck the serpent, slicing at its remaining eye and blinding it. It hefted its bleeding body to the sky and screamed defiance to the man in black. Flashes of intense fire and wind swirled around him in a violent cyclone. He smirked at the beast's endevor and calmly raised his hand to the sky. The green gem he cupped in his gloved hand glowed brightly. His eyes, calm yet brilliant as the orb, centered on the spinning flames as he whispered, "Reflect." The whirling inferno fell away from the man and collapsed in upon the snake.
With the passing breeze through the marshes, the last of the flames died away. The man sheathed his sword and lashed it to his back. He folded his arms across broad chest and looked at the creature with disgust. The Zolom breathed shallowly, barely clinging to life. The man hefted it over his shoulder and dragged it across the marshes. The only tree stood near the cavern's mouth, branches already broken from fierce storms. He laughed, impaling the dieing animal on the spearpoint trunk. Its blood oozed down the smooth bark and pooled around the charred body.
He stepped away from the skull, panting and covered with sweat. He had been that man for a moment. The assurance in his abilities that he felt in the cavern carried into the battle, or maybe was the strength from then? Even an echo of contempt shadowed a corner of his mind. He shook his head and looked over the marshes, knowing that was the only way to go. Perhaps his sudden appearance in this place would be answered. The far horizon beckoned him to come and learn what was beyond her lines. He started off on the muddy path created by the long absent miners. Again he felt as though he had crossed these waters in a long distant memory, and the vision of the Zolom raised its hooded head in a ghostly challenge in his mind. He huddled against the cool wind blowing his shimmering hair into a banner announcing his return to unfamiliar lands.
The sun began to sink behind the mountains a few hours later. His walk had been uneventful at best; nothing more than the wind stirred the reeds and grasses. The man turned the collar of his coat up against the breeze and began looking for a relatively dry place to rest for the night. Twilight darkened the skies before he found any such place, a campfire a becon in the dim light. Hesitantly, he approached the fire. A grisled old man sat smoking his pipe and watching his kettle gently bubble on the flame. A dark bird stood near a cart, contentedly munching on the grasses. The man looked up at the silver-haired one and smiled. "Hey, son! Why don't you join me? It's cold and lonely in the marshes at night. I know, I've been traversing them for decades."
He nodded gratefully and took a seat across the flames from the old man. Silence stretched over the few minutes he took warming his cold fingers and wet feet. When it was clear that the younger man had no interest in starting a conversation, the other cleared his throat and began one himself. "So, what are you doing out here?" His eyes passed over the white coat. "You a scientist, Mister --?"
"No, I am not," he replied. Of all the questions he had of himself, he knew that one. The very idea repulsed him. "I am trying to get to Junon, sir." Junon? Is that where I'm going? Where is that?
The old man laughed. "Name's Ward. Don't call me 'sir' like one of those boys fresh back from the army." He stuck his pipe back in his mouth around a smile. He reached over and stirred the pot before settling back. Still chuckling, he murmured above the crackling of the fire, "Junon's the other way, son." His jovial face turned back to his companion. "Am I going to call you 'son' all night, or do you have a name?"
He cleared his throat and looked away from the old man. "That is why I am going to Junon. Hopefully I can find some answers there."
"And some shoes, too." Ward looked at the other. "Junon's as good a place as any for one of ShinRa's boys. If there's anything I can tell you is that you were part of that creepy Soldier army. Your eyes tell that much. I'm not surprised you have no memory. Those experiments with Mako were weird." He grabbed the metal dish and spooned some of the food from the pot. "Meager helpings tonight, I'm afraid. I wasn't exactly expecting company out here." He handed over the plate and began eating from the pot.
The other man mused over that last bit of information, about the army. Would they know who I am? They must if I was there. Maybe they have some files tucked away. He stirred the last bit of rice and beans around the bottom of the plate. Is someone looking for me? He placed the empty dish to the side and looked up in time to see a rolled blanket inches in front of his face. He snatched it out of the air with barely a thought.
Ward looked at the other with a vaguely impressed. "You must've been fairly high ranking with them reflexes. I was afraid it would hit you. I should've told you it was coming, but still." He scratched his neck and unrolled his own blanket. "Sleep well, boy. We'll be up with the sun in the morning."
Dawn came on swift wings to the travelers,yet they were packed before the sun touched the peaks. The cart carried them across the marshes toward the western ridges. "The path we take is small, but ol' Blackie and I have taken it so many times we could walk it in our sleep. Isn't that right?" he said earlier, patting the chocobo's shoulder. Largely they rode in silence, speaking bits of nonsense here and there, but the young man had little to say and much to think about. He watched the changeless scenery pass by him, lured by the gentle warbling and rhythmic footsteps of the chocobo into a daydream.
The rough edge of the crate dug into the backs of his legs, but he ignored them just as he did the vibrations of the truck. Lightning flashed through the windshield up front and the wipers barely cleared the rain before another sheet covered it. His comrades reclined on similar boxes. One man paced around the truck, talking to everyone and stretching from time to time. His unruly dark hair spiked in all directions before trailing down his back. He adjusted his belt and tapped the emblem with his finger. A pothole in the old road nearly threw them across the back, and one of the soldiers curled further into himself. The dark haired Soldier looked out the back window for a moment, the longest time he had been still the whole trip.
"It sure is raining hard," he murmured to himself. His hands twitched in familiar motions of his fighting style, as though imagining fighting in this weather. He turned to the man sitting near him, arms wrapped around his knees. "Hey, how are you doing?"
The guard waved him off and curled a little tighter. "I'm all right."
"Hey, Cloud. If you're feeling sick, why don't you take that mask off," the dark Soldier said as he kneeled next to him.
Cloud unlatched the massive helmet and rested it on the floor. He mumbled something affirmitave and took a calming breath. His face looked pastey white and dark circles rested under blue eyes; his blonde hair unusually limp from sweat. He winced at every lurch of the truck and slouched lower to the floor.
The Soldier looked at Cloud pityingly and shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I've never had motion sickness." He walked to the other guard and checked up on him, too. He smiled incouragingly to him and wandered around a bit.
The man in black glanced at the restless Soldier with a half smile. "Hey, Zack, settle down."
Zack turned to his friend and began stretching again. "They gave me new Materia, man! I can't wait to use it."
He chuckled a bit. "...just like a kid."
Mock insult masked Zack's face for a moment before his seemingly ever present grin resurfaced. "You going to brief us about this mission before we all get our asses whooped out there?"
"This isn't a typical mission," he said after a pause.
The Soldier's grin turned crooked. "Good."
"Why do you say that?"
Zack walked back to the window, watching the path receed behind them. "It's almost insulting what ShinRa sends us out to do, anymore. Rebels waving pitchforks around aren't exactly what I call a job, you know? I mean since the war, we've been the damned clean up team for the President. Not that Wutai was ideal. I never want to see that again." He watched the rain for a moment. "Those poor kids. How many families did we tear apart, man? Sometimes I wonder about it, whether what we did was right." He turned to the silver haired man. "Say, how do you feel about it, General?"
He looked away from the other, watching the two guards. "I thought you wanted a briefing?"
Abashed at himself, Zack scratched his head and leaned on the side of the truck. He grimaced at his loose tounge around the minor soldiers.
Taking a deep breath, the General began, "Our mission is to investigate an old Mako reactor. There have been reports of it malfunctioning, and producing brutal creatures. First, we will dispose of those creatures. Then, we'll locate the problem and neutralize it." The Soldier tapped his foot idly in thought.
The blonde guard looked up. "Brutal creatures? Where?" he asked hesitantly, as though dreading the answer.
"The Mako Reactor at Nibelheim," the dark coated man replied.
Cloud turned away and inspected his booted feet. "Nibelheim...." He released the breath he had been holding. "That's where I'm from."
The General nodded. He closed his eyes and mused for a moment. "Hmm... hometown...."
There was a great crash of the cart, knocking the old man and traveler into the saturated muck. The chocobo screeched as it flew through the air, still fastened to the vehicle. Leaping to his feet, the silver haired man looked around for the attacker. Emerging from the marshes came a large serpent, eyes a fierce red and locked onto the man. A murderous hiss escaped its throat as it raised itself from the water.
I know you, Zolom. You're not as tough as you look. The man instinctively reached above his shoulder to find it vacant. He blinked and shook his head. Letting your imagination take control? You're not him. The sobering thought brought him from the euphoric feeling of invincibility that had taken control of his features. He wiped the cruel smile from his face, wondering where it came from and why it felt so comfortable in place, and circled the creature warily. Its first strike came suddenly and it was all he could do to leap out of the way. He focused all his thoughts on the snake's movements, the gentle ripple of muscle as it turned its head to the sun glinting off of metal-hard scales. With the next lightning fast strike, he wrapped his arms around the base of the creature's head. They tumbled around in the muck, the man held on as it shook its head to rid itself of the unwanted passenger. His feet dangled in the air when the Zolom reared up with a scream. He shifted his weight at the serpent's next movement, bringing himself back to the ground.
One mighty lurch of its head brought it out of the man's iron grasp. He panted and thought wildly about how to stop this monster. A flurry of attacks pounded the man even as he countered each with his bare fists. However awkward it felt to him, he still was able to keep most of the fatal moves from himself. Still, it was impossible to prevent all attacks from landing. Soon his own blood was smeared across his face and stained on the white coat. Rolling from his last bare escape, he realized that the cart lay nearby. He tried to ignore the panicked screams from the bird as he reached inside the bed. His fingers closed on an object and he threw it at the creature's head. The pot from the previous night landed squarely between its eyes, leaving it dazed for a few moments. The man rooted around a bit more, brushing away blankets and other such useless items. Suddenly, a familiar shape found its way into his palm. He withdrew the knife from the cart and balanced it confidently in his hand. With renewed vigor, he charged the creature. Every stroke he made against the serpent drew dark blood on its scales.
In a desperate attempt to finish the battle, the Zolom rushed the man. Sparks of fire and wind errupted around the two, but the spell could not be completed as the man embedded the knife deep into its skull. It crashed to the water, its blood mixing into the wet mud. The man bent to the creature and yanked the knife free. All in all, it was a terrible visage: his silver hair stained crimson, drifting in the wind like a stained wing and his formerly white coat splattered with blood and earth. He looked at the man who had been tossed so effortlessly to the side. "Ward, how much do you think I could get for this?" He vaguely remembered a bounty on the head of any Zolom, but whether from his mind or the man from the vision.
The old man's eyes flickered between the creature and the traveler, wondering which he should fear more. "I-I'd say a couple hundred, for one that size."
Sure enough, upon inspection, this serpent was smaller than the fabled Midgar Zolom, the one he was sure was from his vision. But just as fierce.
"The way you handled that, you could've rivaled the General."
The traveler stood from retrieving the knife's sheath, eeys widened in shock, reconizing the title. "What can you tell me of this General?"
You must really not remember much if you don't know who ShinRa's General is. Was, I should say. He was last heard of six years ago, not counting the rumors of the man wandering the Planet last year. Fantastic warrior, I heard. He gained the rank of General sometime in his twenties, or so the reports said, during the War. He went to Nibelheim on his last expidition. ShinRa never really explained what happened, but the rumor was that he went mad, killed everybody, and razed the town to the ground. Impossible, of course. Nibelheim still stands as it always has. Anyway, in this supposed madness he fell into the Mako pit and died. I say he was killed by one of their dragons, but that's just me."
The General was going to Nibelheim, the man thought, so Zack said. He grimaced at himself. Not that those visions mean anything, whatever they are. He walked over to the ruined cart. The frightened chocobo continued to whimper from the past experience. Gently, the man stroked the bird's head, calming it. Ward muttered angrily at the broken wheels and splintered sides. "Well, that's it, I guess. I'm going home." He reached into the cart and took out the blankets and his pipe. "Take this and the bird. Blackie can find his way home, but you can keep the blanket. I've got an old friend near here that I can stay with."
"Will you be all right?"
"Yeah. Zoloms aren't that common, kid. My friend's just a few miles away. I'll reach it by sundown." He raised his pipe in a salute. "Take care, young General." Ward chuckled at his joke as he turned away and made his way through the half-formed paths in the water.
The silver haired man watched the other until he was hidden by the tall grasses and reeds. He sighed and began dismantling the cart. Once he had a relatively flat surface, he began skinning the serpent. The sun sank twice its heighth in the sky before a length of skin and the head rested securely on the makeshift sled. He mounted the chocobo easily, even though he could not recall riding the animals any time before. With the western mountains ahead of him, he heeled the bird into an easy run toward the port city of Junon.
***
Softly, he padded down the path and into the other corridor, musing to himself, I've been here before. Once, long ago. His fingers brushed the wall as he studied the shining metal veins. There had been people here, years ago, in this abandoned cavern. Thick gouges scared the walls, any evidence of virgin ore stripped away by men for the mountain's bounty and then they left for more fertile grounds. The man looked away from the rock and toward the distant sound of wind, moaning in the dark. He continued, reveling in the new sounds comfortable in his ears. As if in a dream, the man found his way through the labrynthine passage. At each fork he paused, mentally reciting the different paths and what dangers they contained. He had no fear, even with the certainty of the violent creatures residing here. There had never been any time that he had felt anything other than confidence, almost arrogance, of his abilities. Nothing could hurt him. But something did. Before. A vision of darkness, blood and a blinding blue rushed into his memory. He stumbled into the wall, collecting his frayed nerves. The man wiped sweat from his brow, feeling it between his fingers, examining it. What is this feeling? Is it ...fear? He thought a moment longer, storing this new sensation in his memory. Even in all this backwards knowledge in his memory, fear still remained an enigma.
He raised his head to the turn in the path, the sound of the wind rising in a crescendo. The last few meters passed swiftly as he turned the corner. Stepping out of the shadow, he raised his hand to shield himself from the blinding light. A shock of cold air caressed his bare ankles and unprotected face. Eyes narrowed and pupils slit in the unaccostomed daylight, he examined his new surroundings. Marshes stretched across to the horizon and mountains raised their dark sides to him. A bare trunk of a tree stood to his left, lengths of bleached bone surrounding the withered roots. The skull of the fabulous beast rested near him, green moss beginning to claim the exposed surface. And what are you? he thought. Bending over, he gently brushed a bit of the lichen away and rested his palm on the smooth surface.
Silver blade flashing furiously in the dawn, the silver-haired man struck the serpent, slicing at its remaining eye and blinding it. It hefted its bleeding body to the sky and screamed defiance to the man in black. Flashes of intense fire and wind swirled around him in a violent cyclone. He smirked at the beast's endevor and calmly raised his hand to the sky. The green gem he cupped in his gloved hand glowed brightly. His eyes, calm yet brilliant as the orb, centered on the spinning flames as he whispered, "Reflect." The whirling inferno fell away from the man and collapsed in upon the snake.
With the passing breeze through the marshes, the last of the flames died away. The man sheathed his sword and lashed it to his back. He folded his arms across broad chest and looked at the creature with disgust. The Zolom breathed shallowly, barely clinging to life. The man hefted it over his shoulder and dragged it across the marshes. The only tree stood near the cavern's mouth, branches already broken from fierce storms. He laughed, impaling the dieing animal on the spearpoint trunk. Its blood oozed down the smooth bark and pooled around the charred body.
He stepped away from the skull, panting and covered with sweat. He had been that man for a moment. The assurance in his abilities that he felt in the cavern carried into the battle, or maybe was the strength from then? Even an echo of contempt shadowed a corner of his mind. He shook his head and looked over the marshes, knowing that was the only way to go. Perhaps his sudden appearance in this place would be answered. The far horizon beckoned him to come and learn what was beyond her lines. He started off on the muddy path created by the long absent miners. Again he felt as though he had crossed these waters in a long distant memory, and the vision of the Zolom raised its hooded head in a ghostly challenge in his mind. He huddled against the cool wind blowing his shimmering hair into a banner announcing his return to unfamiliar lands.
The sun began to sink behind the mountains a few hours later. His walk had been uneventful at best; nothing more than the wind stirred the reeds and grasses. The man turned the collar of his coat up against the breeze and began looking for a relatively dry place to rest for the night. Twilight darkened the skies before he found any such place, a campfire a becon in the dim light. Hesitantly, he approached the fire. A grisled old man sat smoking his pipe and watching his kettle gently bubble on the flame. A dark bird stood near a cart, contentedly munching on the grasses. The man looked up at the silver-haired one and smiled. "Hey, son! Why don't you join me? It's cold and lonely in the marshes at night. I know, I've been traversing them for decades."
He nodded gratefully and took a seat across the flames from the old man. Silence stretched over the few minutes he took warming his cold fingers and wet feet. When it was clear that the younger man had no interest in starting a conversation, the other cleared his throat and began one himself. "So, what are you doing out here?" His eyes passed over the white coat. "You a scientist, Mister --?"
"No, I am not," he replied. Of all the questions he had of himself, he knew that one. The very idea repulsed him. "I am trying to get to Junon, sir." Junon? Is that where I'm going? Where is that?
The old man laughed. "Name's Ward. Don't call me 'sir' like one of those boys fresh back from the army." He stuck his pipe back in his mouth around a smile. He reached over and stirred the pot before settling back. Still chuckling, he murmured above the crackling of the fire, "Junon's the other way, son." His jovial face turned back to his companion. "Am I going to call you 'son' all night, or do you have a name?"
He cleared his throat and looked away from the old man. "That is why I am going to Junon. Hopefully I can find some answers there."
"And some shoes, too." Ward looked at the other. "Junon's as good a place as any for one of ShinRa's boys. If there's anything I can tell you is that you were part of that creepy Soldier army. Your eyes tell that much. I'm not surprised you have no memory. Those experiments with Mako were weird." He grabbed the metal dish and spooned some of the food from the pot. "Meager helpings tonight, I'm afraid. I wasn't exactly expecting company out here." He handed over the plate and began eating from the pot.
The other man mused over that last bit of information, about the army. Would they know who I am? They must if I was there. Maybe they have some files tucked away. He stirred the last bit of rice and beans around the bottom of the plate. Is someone looking for me? He placed the empty dish to the side and looked up in time to see a rolled blanket inches in front of his face. He snatched it out of the air with barely a thought.
Ward looked at the other with a vaguely impressed. "You must've been fairly high ranking with them reflexes. I was afraid it would hit you. I should've told you it was coming, but still." He scratched his neck and unrolled his own blanket. "Sleep well, boy. We'll be up with the sun in the morning."
Dawn came on swift wings to the travelers,yet they were packed before the sun touched the peaks. The cart carried them across the marshes toward the western ridges. "The path we take is small, but ol' Blackie and I have taken it so many times we could walk it in our sleep. Isn't that right?" he said earlier, patting the chocobo's shoulder. Largely they rode in silence, speaking bits of nonsense here and there, but the young man had little to say and much to think about. He watched the changeless scenery pass by him, lured by the gentle warbling and rhythmic footsteps of the chocobo into a daydream.
The rough edge of the crate dug into the backs of his legs, but he ignored them just as he did the vibrations of the truck. Lightning flashed through the windshield up front and the wipers barely cleared the rain before another sheet covered it. His comrades reclined on similar boxes. One man paced around the truck, talking to everyone and stretching from time to time. His unruly dark hair spiked in all directions before trailing down his back. He adjusted his belt and tapped the emblem with his finger. A pothole in the old road nearly threw them across the back, and one of the soldiers curled further into himself. The dark haired Soldier looked out the back window for a moment, the longest time he had been still the whole trip.
"It sure is raining hard," he murmured to himself. His hands twitched in familiar motions of his fighting style, as though imagining fighting in this weather. He turned to the man sitting near him, arms wrapped around his knees. "Hey, how are you doing?"
The guard waved him off and curled a little tighter. "I'm all right."
"Hey, Cloud. If you're feeling sick, why don't you take that mask off," the dark Soldier said as he kneeled next to him.
Cloud unlatched the massive helmet and rested it on the floor. He mumbled something affirmitave and took a calming breath. His face looked pastey white and dark circles rested under blue eyes; his blonde hair unusually limp from sweat. He winced at every lurch of the truck and slouched lower to the floor.
The Soldier looked at Cloud pityingly and shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I've never had motion sickness." He walked to the other guard and checked up on him, too. He smiled incouragingly to him and wandered around a bit.
The man in black glanced at the restless Soldier with a half smile. "Hey, Zack, settle down."
Zack turned to his friend and began stretching again. "They gave me new Materia, man! I can't wait to use it."
He chuckled a bit. "...just like a kid."
Mock insult masked Zack's face for a moment before his seemingly ever present grin resurfaced. "You going to brief us about this mission before we all get our asses whooped out there?"
"This isn't a typical mission," he said after a pause.
The Soldier's grin turned crooked. "Good."
"Why do you say that?"
Zack walked back to the window, watching the path receed behind them. "It's almost insulting what ShinRa sends us out to do, anymore. Rebels waving pitchforks around aren't exactly what I call a job, you know? I mean since the war, we've been the damned clean up team for the President. Not that Wutai was ideal. I never want to see that again." He watched the rain for a moment. "Those poor kids. How many families did we tear apart, man? Sometimes I wonder about it, whether what we did was right." He turned to the silver haired man. "Say, how do you feel about it, General?"
He looked away from the other, watching the two guards. "I thought you wanted a briefing?"
Abashed at himself, Zack scratched his head and leaned on the side of the truck. He grimaced at his loose tounge around the minor soldiers.
Taking a deep breath, the General began, "Our mission is to investigate an old Mako reactor. There have been reports of it malfunctioning, and producing brutal creatures. First, we will dispose of those creatures. Then, we'll locate the problem and neutralize it." The Soldier tapped his foot idly in thought.
The blonde guard looked up. "Brutal creatures? Where?" he asked hesitantly, as though dreading the answer.
"The Mako Reactor at Nibelheim," the dark coated man replied.
Cloud turned away and inspected his booted feet. "Nibelheim...." He released the breath he had been holding. "That's where I'm from."
The General nodded. He closed his eyes and mused for a moment. "Hmm... hometown...."
There was a great crash of the cart, knocking the old man and traveler into the saturated muck. The chocobo screeched as it flew through the air, still fastened to the vehicle. Leaping to his feet, the silver haired man looked around for the attacker. Emerging from the marshes came a large serpent, eyes a fierce red and locked onto the man. A murderous hiss escaped its throat as it raised itself from the water.
I know you, Zolom. You're not as tough as you look. The man instinctively reached above his shoulder to find it vacant. He blinked and shook his head. Letting your imagination take control? You're not him. The sobering thought brought him from the euphoric feeling of invincibility that had taken control of his features. He wiped the cruel smile from his face, wondering where it came from and why it felt so comfortable in place, and circled the creature warily. Its first strike came suddenly and it was all he could do to leap out of the way. He focused all his thoughts on the snake's movements, the gentle ripple of muscle as it turned its head to the sun glinting off of metal-hard scales. With the next lightning fast strike, he wrapped his arms around the base of the creature's head. They tumbled around in the muck, the man held on as it shook its head to rid itself of the unwanted passenger. His feet dangled in the air when the Zolom reared up with a scream. He shifted his weight at the serpent's next movement, bringing himself back to the ground.
One mighty lurch of its head brought it out of the man's iron grasp. He panted and thought wildly about how to stop this monster. A flurry of attacks pounded the man even as he countered each with his bare fists. However awkward it felt to him, he still was able to keep most of the fatal moves from himself. Still, it was impossible to prevent all attacks from landing. Soon his own blood was smeared across his face and stained on the white coat. Rolling from his last bare escape, he realized that the cart lay nearby. He tried to ignore the panicked screams from the bird as he reached inside the bed. His fingers closed on an object and he threw it at the creature's head. The pot from the previous night landed squarely between its eyes, leaving it dazed for a few moments. The man rooted around a bit more, brushing away blankets and other such useless items. Suddenly, a familiar shape found its way into his palm. He withdrew the knife from the cart and balanced it confidently in his hand. With renewed vigor, he charged the creature. Every stroke he made against the serpent drew dark blood on its scales.
In a desperate attempt to finish the battle, the Zolom rushed the man. Sparks of fire and wind errupted around the two, but the spell could not be completed as the man embedded the knife deep into its skull. It crashed to the water, its blood mixing into the wet mud. The man bent to the creature and yanked the knife free. All in all, it was a terrible visage: his silver hair stained crimson, drifting in the wind like a stained wing and his formerly white coat splattered with blood and earth. He looked at the man who had been tossed so effortlessly to the side. "Ward, how much do you think I could get for this?" He vaguely remembered a bounty on the head of any Zolom, but whether from his mind or the man from the vision.
The old man's eyes flickered between the creature and the traveler, wondering which he should fear more. "I-I'd say a couple hundred, for one that size."
Sure enough, upon inspection, this serpent was smaller than the fabled Midgar Zolom, the one he was sure was from his vision. But just as fierce.
"The way you handled that, you could've rivaled the General."
The traveler stood from retrieving the knife's sheath, eeys widened in shock, reconizing the title. "What can you tell me of this General?"
You must really not remember much if you don't know who ShinRa's General is. Was, I should say. He was last heard of six years ago, not counting the rumors of the man wandering the Planet last year. Fantastic warrior, I heard. He gained the rank of General sometime in his twenties, or so the reports said, during the War. He went to Nibelheim on his last expidition. ShinRa never really explained what happened, but the rumor was that he went mad, killed everybody, and razed the town to the ground. Impossible, of course. Nibelheim still stands as it always has. Anyway, in this supposed madness he fell into the Mako pit and died. I say he was killed by one of their dragons, but that's just me."
The General was going to Nibelheim, the man thought, so Zack said. He grimaced at himself. Not that those visions mean anything, whatever they are. He walked over to the ruined cart. The frightened chocobo continued to whimper from the past experience. Gently, the man stroked the bird's head, calming it. Ward muttered angrily at the broken wheels and splintered sides. "Well, that's it, I guess. I'm going home." He reached into the cart and took out the blankets and his pipe. "Take this and the bird. Blackie can find his way home, but you can keep the blanket. I've got an old friend near here that I can stay with."
"Will you be all right?"
"Yeah. Zoloms aren't that common, kid. My friend's just a few miles away. I'll reach it by sundown." He raised his pipe in a salute. "Take care, young General." Ward chuckled at his joke as he turned away and made his way through the half-formed paths in the water.
The silver haired man watched the other until he was hidden by the tall grasses and reeds. He sighed and began dismantling the cart. Once he had a relatively flat surface, he began skinning the serpent. The sun sank twice its heighth in the sky before a length of skin and the head rested securely on the makeshift sled. He mounted the chocobo easily, even though he could not recall riding the animals any time before. With the western mountains ahead of him, he heeled the bird into an easy run toward the port city of Junon.
***