Tifa was ready to give up again. There was absolutely no use in getting anyone to listen to her unless she initiated her ever-trustworthy security system, real name Barret. One moment he'd be sitting down, peaceful as ever - the next, he was up and roaring like a disturbed bear, almost foaming at the mouth like any crazed beast. She merely leaned back, swiping back her long dark hair with a grumble before all was peaceful. The whole operation took less than a minute. A few bullets thrown, but nobody was hurt.

"I think," she sighed, "we're done. Go home. I've had enough tonight."

Barret shrugged. "You show you gonna be awright?"

"I'm positive. Just get going. I'll clean up here."

Barret was a nice guy. A big marshmallow, really, deep down. But tonight she was not fond of his company, and only needed just a little time to think. After a long time of cleaning, methodically rinsing and disinfecting shot glasses and mugs alike, she finally flicked the switch for the quirky sign outside and finally the lights inside. She pulled on a leather jacket hanging behind the counter, buttoning it up before stuffing her hands in her pockets and moving toward the door, fingering the keys inside the pockets.

Outside the air was warm. It carried the hint of garbage that lay everywhere. Maybe she was just used to it, but some people would say you could vomit from lingering down here under the remnants of filth. Great politicians built this world; now it was all mostly in ruin. The only thing buzzing around here was the fabled Seventh Heaven - where it all began.

She turned her back to lock the door. The moment she pushed the keys into her pocket again, she felt a whisper of warm air against her ear and there were already arms wrapped around her. Her mind called up the haunting image of the silver-haired man, whom she had seen just a few days ago. She shuddered, tensing, but before she could even raise a fist, the arm squeezed around her chest, just under her breasts, squeezing the air from her.

The voice pooled into her ears like soft mako liquid, glowing and beautiful but full of poison. "You have something to tell me," the voice purred.

"Let go and I'll tell you," she coughed.

"Tell me, and I'll let you go."

"I can't breathe!" she argued, squirming and lifting her leg. Before she could strike a blow he pushed her against the door and stumbled back off the steps. She turned around, reaching into her coat and rubbing her ribs.

"Pity," he growled, his eyes hooded and dangerous. "Alright. Forgive me. You want to go home. I want to know where 'this' man is." He reached into his long jacket pocket and produced a photo. He stepped up to give it to her. His closeness nearly scared the shit out of her. She snatched it away, earning her a winning smile from the taller man.

It was Cloud, although the photo was a little shoddy and wrinkled, and taped together. One corner was almost completely burned away. She looked up at him, narrowing her eyes. "Why do you want to know? Are you another Clone?"

"It doesn't matter!" he snapped. "Just tell me. Then you can go home. Right?"

"I don't know where he is," she answered truthfully. "He left awhile ago, said he needed to go exploring by himself. I kept trying to go with him, but...yeah. Anyway, he's not here."

She hoped he believed her. Whoever this Clone thought he was, he wouldn't find Cloud even if she did know where he was. Chances are, by the time the Clone got there he'd already moved on. Tifa's heart was still pounding. He'd killed so heartlessly before. Would he believe her? Pleaseplease believe me. I really don't know where he is.

"You might look in Gongaga. He could be visiting Zack's parents," she blurted suddenly. Yes, that's right. Could be. Good thinking, girl.

"And where is that?"

"I can give you a map... it's near Cosmo Canyon. Are you familiar with that place?"

"Somewhat. You'd better not be lying to me, girl... or you will find me on your doorstep, and I won't be begging for milk." He punctuated by licking his lips slowly, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he stepped close... holding out his hand. She quickly placed the picture in his possession, and dug around in her jacket's inside pockets for the map. She smacked that down into his palm as well.

"Goodnight," the Clone said, several steps away. He seemed apologetic, but it could have all been a clever facade to mask his true malice.