Chapter 1-
A Barfight and a Strange Encounter
"Time is never wasted when you're wasted all the time."
~Unknown (But doesn't it sound like Reno to you?)
Tifa Lockheart finished wiping the bar counters with a gusty sigh. Sundays were always busy…perhaps because everybody realized they'd be back to work on Monday and wanted to inhale as much liquor as possible before the first business day of the week.
Ever since the Premium Heart had opened after Meteor was destroyed, it had received the same level of popularity as her first bar, due to its good food and drink. Although for some, just drink.
"Hey, Tifa! Send another shot down this way!"
She darted a glance at the speaker. The red-haired man waved a hand at her, motioning for her to hurry up.
"In a second, Reno!" she called. How that man could down so much alcohol and still remain relatively sober was beyond her. Beside him sat Rude, another frequent visitor to her bar.
The two men looked fairly normal, to any other person's eyes. But Tifa knew they were actually Turks- former agents of Shinra, Inc, the once-powerful multi-department company. Shinra employees were hated…some of them feared, as well. The Turks were among these.
Tifa quickly mixed the drink and slid it down to him. Reno sipped it appraisingly and, finding it satisfactory, turned to Rude.
"Did you hear?" he asked his friend. "They found some stuff down at the junkyard. A destroyed military base, wrecked helicopters, everything. Some punks must've roughed the place up." He looked at Rude piercingly, just to get the message across. Apparently some of his old training still stuck with him, and he wasn't about to mention aloud that they, along with AVALANCHE, had been the "punks" at the junkyard. He leaned close and whispered. "Even Hojo's body."
Rude grunted. "Wonder what they'll do with all the lab equipment."
"Hell, I don't know. I'm busy wondering what they'll do with all the persecution options. I mean, it's pretty obvious there was a fight, and-"
He was interrupted by a glare from a drunk sitting by them. Reno stopped talking. "Yeah? You want something?"
The stranger studied him carefully. "Do I know you?"
Reno took a gulp of his drink. "Don't ask me."
"Wait a minute, wait a minute." The guy looked carefully at him, leaning so close Reno could smell the alcohol on his breath. "I swear I saw you before."
"Good for you," Reno sneered. He stood, grasping his fellow Turk's shoulder. "Let's go, Rude."
"Wait." The other man stood. "I know you."
"A lot of people do." He quickly turned and started for the door. The other man grabbed him by the arm, forcing him to stop.
"I know you," he repeated. "You used to work for Shinra. One of them punk-ass Turks."
"So what?" Reno's eyes narrowed and he slowly reached for his gun.
Other people nearby had stopped talking and were listening in. Tifa noticed with foreboding that the bar was gradually growing silent.
"You know what I heard," the man said slowly. "I heard it wasn't AVALANCHE that destroyed Sector 7."
"My, you learn fast," Reno said sarcastically. But the man went on.
"In fact, I heard it was the Turks." He paused. "I heard it was that drunken red-haired bastard of theirs."
Reno raised an eyebrow. "Apparently, variety isn't one of your qualities."
"Damn you, my wife and kids were in the that Sector!" the man shouted. With that, he took a wild swing at Reno.
Reno calmly blocked the punch with his forearm, while at the same time pinning the man's other arm to his side. Thus immobilizing his opponent's arms, he leaned very close and whispered.
"Yes, I may be a Turk. You think you're so smart, figuring that out. No, people know. They just have enough sense not to mess with me. Which makes you very stupid."
But the crazed man's only answer was to kick him in the kneecap. Reno dropped to the other knee in pain, dodging the other flying swing. In an instant he recovered and threw himself on top of the stranger, slamming him into the bar counter. There were gasps and a few screams from customers as they realized what was happening.
"Reno!" Tifa shouted above the noise. "No here! Take it outside!"
Ignoring her, the Turk yanked out his gun. He intended to use it only to scare the man, but the it just caused more of a commotion in the crowd. Tifa was trying to calm the crowd, but nothing was working. The confusion distracted Reno slightly, enough so his hold on he man loosened. Taking advantage of this, the man shoved him away enough to stand up straight. Eyes on Reno, one of his hands groped along the bar counter before coming up with a bottle. Liquid splashed on the counter and dripped onto the floor as the man smashed part of the bottle on the edge of the counter.
Brandishing the broken bottle like a weapon, he rushed at Reno. The Turk feigned to the side before shoving his shoulder into his opponent, knocking him over a table and several chairs.
The man was struggling up when Rude appeared and brought his fist smashing down on his skull. He slumped and stayed down.
Reno looked at his partner in surprise. "What'd you do that for, Rude? I was just starting to enjoy-"
Tifa's raging voice interrupted him. "Would you look at this place! What have you done?!"
Reno looked. There were overturned tables and chairs, a few smashed bottles, and alcohol on the floor. The bar was empty except for a few interested spectators.
"Lot of damage, for such a short fight," he observed. Tifa fixed him with a dark scowl.
"It's going to take me days to clean this up. Why'd you have to do that, Reno? Can't you stay out of fights for a while? At least in my bar?"
"Hey, I wasn't the one who started it!" he protested. "The guy recognized me!'
She stopped straightening the table and looked at him. "Recognized you?"
"As a Turk. In case you don't remember, we weren't exactly adored by the public."
"I'll bet," she murmured. She continued dragging the table to its rightful position. "Well, can't the two of you…disguise yourselves, or something?"
Reno looked indignant. "Never! What would you want us to do, dye our hair?" He glanced sidelong at Rude's bald head. "Or wear wigs?"
Tifa sighed. "Forget it. Just help me clean this up."
* * * * * * Aeris bit her lip, frowning down at the flower she was watering. They lay on the ground, limp and unresponsive.
She didn't understand it. They were growing just fine yesterday, full and beautiful. But now they were dying. Aeris had thought it was odd, but had been sure she could make them grow again. Now she had failed. Strange, though. It was as though there was some kind of outside force that was killing them.
She bent and packed the earth more tightly around the plants. She was concentrating, focusing on the flowers, when she felt a presence. She stood, brushing the dirt off her clothes, ready to greet the newcomer.
"May I help-"
Aeris broke off as she stared. A woman was there, a tall woman with long silky, black hair tat seemed almost unnaturally straight. Her cold, impassive face was so perfect it looked to be sculpted of marble. Her eyes were large and foreboding, but the strangest thing about them was their color. They were a dark purple, almost a murky black. One felt that these eyes could stare right through you, could know all your secrets with a glance. She wore a dark gown that matched her eyes exactly.
The sheer authority of this woman alone almost made Aeris stumble backward, but she caught herself. As it was, she couldn't even speak.
"I wish to know," the woman began. Like her appearance, her voice had a quality to it that instantly made you want to obey. Anything else would be unthinkable.
"I wish to know,' she continued, "where I can find the Cetra/human, Aeris Gainsborough."
It was not a question, not even a demand. It was an order. Aeris could feel those strange eyes boring into her, and she felt sure the woman knew exactly who and what she was, but wanted to hear it from her. Aeris felt like running far away, away from this stranger and her strange eyes. But she couldn't. She was locked in place, and the words popped out before she was even aware she was speaking.
"I am Aeris."
The woman gave a cold parody of a smile. "Ah, good." She held up a hand. The sunlight gleamed off the long fingernails, curved inward like a cat's claws. "Come with me, my dear."
Aeris stared at the hand, then up at the woman's face. Very slowly she began to back away. She wanted to turn and run, but she couldn't break her gaze from those eyes.
"Now." More than an order, more than a command. This word held a threat.
"N-no…" Shaking with an unearthly terror, Aeris continued to back away. She had to escape, to hide from this horrible apparition, but she couldn't tear herself from those eyes.
The woman's blood-red lips curled and she drew her hand back, whether to strike her or cast some sort of spell Aeris didn't know, because it was then she tripped over a rock, falling to the ground. The link broken, Aeris got to her feet and ran.