The Truth Behind Midgar
By Hatred's Legacy

Chapter Three

The lethargic man sat in his favorite chair, his bald head glinting in the soft, pink glow of the television as it played a game show that he enjoyed immensely. He never heard a noise as a shadowed figure eased the window up and silently slipped into the same room as him.

The fat Mayor of Marketville had always played the television a little too loudly. But, shit, he deserved this one small comfort. To be able to relax after a long days' work and just block the outside world out. Unfortunately, now he would pay the ultimate price for such a small and petty comfort.

And so it was to the shadow's advantage that the loud television masked his approach. The Mayor did not feel a thing as a muffled gun was fired at point blank range from the back of his head, blood and small fragments of bone and brain splattering across his so cherished television.

At that very moment, in every separate city of Midgar, the assassinations of the Mayors, Scientists, and their families were also being carried out.

~ ~ ~

Nibori woke up with a start, frantic pounding coming from his front door. He eased himself out of bed so as to not wake up his wife, who was the world's deepest sleeper after 'relations'.

Nibori quickly threw on some clothes and then ran downstairs, jerking the front door open.

"Sir! We have a situation. Almost all high-clearance personnel have been assassinated!"

Nibori blinked dumbly at the news. His mind still foggy with sleep. "... What?"

"We must get you back to Headquarters. It'll be safer there."

"My family?"

"I can leave some soldiers here to guard them personally. Sir, Midgar needs you."

Nibori nodded his head and allowed himself to be escorted away from his beloved family and home. He only hoped that whatever Gods that be would ensure their safety. The guard that had so rudely pounded on the door just moments before, hung back for a few moments, pulling out a small communicator.

"Sir, President Nibori is on his way to Headquarters," he said into the device.

"Excellent work, soldier," a voice replied from the other end.

"What do we do with the family, sir?"

There was nothing but static for a few short moments as the other end was silent. Finally a crackle, and then a chilling statement. "Kill the mother, but spare the boy."

"Yes, s--"

"And make sure the boy witnesses his mother's death," the voice interrupted thoughtfully.

"Excuse me, sir?!"

"You have your orders, soldier." The voice took on a more menacing tone. "And if these orders are not carried out to the last minute detail, I will have you shot. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

The soldier twisted a small knob and the communicator turned off with a small click. He turned his haunted eyes upwards, staring up into the darkened upstairs windows.

~ ~ ~

"Hojo, were you able to destroy all documents and research concerning solar power?"

"I was. And our bargain?"

"It is a done deal."

"And Gast?"

"He will be dealt with eventually. For the moment, he is far too valuable to dispose of."

"What of Nibori?"

A cruel laugh echoed around the room before replying. "Soon. Very soon."

~ ~ ~

The weary soldier stepped inside the quiet house and plodded upstairs. Every nerve in his body fought against him. His very being cried out against the task he was about to carry out. He had not joined the forces for this. This senseless murdering. He had never even intended to betray his beloved President.

How cruel the Gods were.

How cruel Fate was.

Who was he kidding? It was not his place to try to blame supreme beings or pagan beliefs for his misery. Indeed, it was his self-imposed ignorance that made him want to blame such things. He knew in his heart what was the cause of all this. A certain human's greed. That was, after all, mankind's downfall. Their depthless greed. They had the unique ability to take and take, but never give. And still, these creatures could crave more.

He paused halfway up the stairs, tilting his head back with eyes closed, a disgusted sigh escaping his lips. But if he did not carry out these orders, he knew all to well that he and his family would suffer. And still, this woman would die. Her life was going to come to an end tonight one way or another. With or without his cooperation.

Did that mean he should still be a willing participant of this event? No. He was not willing. He was but a puppet. Strings taut and drawn, forcing him to commit actions he would never do otherwise.

He once more willed himself to continue up the stairs, continue to his destination. One step at a time. Left foot, right foot. Left, right. Maybe if he concentrated on moving his feet, it would lighten this burden somewhat. Left, right. He prayed to the Heavens that one day there would be someway to seek redemption. To redeem himself. Left, right. The man who had commanded him to do this dirty deed would pay one day. He would make sure his empire did not last long. Left, right.

He had finally made it. He stood in the open doorway to the President's room, his wife still peacefully slumbering in the bed. He watched her sadly, silently whispering for her forgiveness. He prayed she would understand one day for what he was about to do.

The soldier woodenly moved over to the bed, a knife withdrawn, and nudged her in the side hard enough to draw blood, and elicit a pained squeak from her.

"Who are you?! What are you doing in here?!"

He sadly smiled at her, his eyes silently pleading with her. A part of him wanted her to jump up and escape him. The other part screamed out against this. This selfish side of him. It clung tenaciously to his own family. It was not ready to lose them.

"I am your murderer. Please forgive me."

With that said he bent down and roughly grabbed her by the wrist, wrenching her out of bed. She did not fight much. Either she was still too deeply in shock, inebriated by sleep, or simply to frightened. He did know one thing though. When she realized that he was pulling her towards her son's room, only then did she begin to violently fight back. A mother's instinct to protect her young was indeed formidable.

He mercilessly shoved her into her son's room until she was right next to his bed, standing in the pale glow of the small night light. He, himself, stood behind her in the shadows. He was not to be seen. His identity was to always remain a secret.

The mother began to shake violently and then wail for him to spare her son. He could take her life, if only he would spare her little Vincent. He did not tell her to be silent. He needed the child awake, and the mother's pleadings had efficiently accomplished this task.

He spun her back around so that she was facing her son, and leaned forward so that his lips were lightly brushing against her ear. "Do not worry," he whispered softly. "Your son will not die today. Not by my hand."

With a cold resolve and a child's innocent and frightened eyes to witness all, he lifted the cold blade up and quickly slit the mother's throat, warm blood spraying out, small specks alighting on the child's confused face.

The soldier released the already dead woman's body, and allowed it to crumple lifelessly to the floor. He was already out the door and down the stairs before the child could even see his face. As he exited the still dark house, his ears were bombarded by the terrified screams of a child who had just witnessed the brutal murdering of his mother.

The small communicator on his belt beeped and he turned a switch to accept the call. "Is it done, Reeve?"

"Yes, sir. It is."

"Good job. I will not forget this. A promotion is in your future."

"Thank you, sir." He had to choke those last words out. Never had he hated as he did now.

"Head back to Headquarters now," the voice ordered. The communicator beeped once more, and then fell into static. Reeve shut it off.

Surprisingly, it wasn't the screams of the child that would wake Reeve up in the middle of the night for the rest of his life. It was those small, brown, innocent eyes. The eyes that were filled with trust, devotion, and love for his mother. And he had taken that away. He had murdered that child in a form as well.

He had murdered Vincent's innocence and trust.