CHAPTER 10

"Biggs..." Zack said experimentally, pointing to the 18-year-old espionage agent. The young dark brown haired man nodded as way of an answer. "Wedge," Zack then said, pointing to the heavy-set, slightly older infantryman.

Wedge nodded as the trio walked amid piles of debris which served as homes to the residents of the Slums. Zack raised an eyebrow humorously.

"Shouldn't it be the other way around? I mean, your name would be easier to remember if it were 'Biggs'... cuz... y'know..." Zack asked Wedge pointedly, motioning to his stomach. Wedge gave Zack a cold stare, but didn't say anything.

Biggs nudged Zack somewhat roughly, though the tall, slightly older SOLDIER seemed not to notice. "Dude, lay off, he's been dealing with that crap his whole life, give it a rest," Biggs warned defensively.

"It's okay, I can take care of myself," Wedge said unconvincingly before Zack could respond.

Zack simply smiled and glared down at Wedge, who actually was actually not all that tall, about 5 and a half feet at the most was Zack's estimate. "So come on then," Zack proclaimed as a challenge, "Defend yourself."

The trio kept walking, though Biggs and Wedge's eyes went wide.

"What, you wanna fight me?" Wedge asked nervously. He noticed Zack made no move for his sword, and his hands were in his pockets. Even a SOLDIER could not defend themselves like that.

"Well, I meant like... insult me back," Zack explained.

'I... I'm not very good at insults..." Wedge replied, lowering his head.

Zack stopped suddenly, looking at Wedge with confused eyes.

"You mean to tell me that people have been calling you 'lunchbox' and 'tubba-wubba' your whole life, and you haven't picked up any good counter-jabs?"

Wedge just looked at the slightly older man, wearing a sad, lost expression that belayed his thoughts.

"Well cripes, man!" Zack said almost excitedly, throwing his hands up. He slapped Wedge hard on the shoulder, and brought him in close. Biggs watched in amusement while leaning against a large cement block. "Here's what I'm gonna do for ya..." Zack started, "I'm gonna teach you to be a lean, mean, dissin machine! Well, mean at least... 'lean' you'll have to work on on your own," he finished, poking Wedge in the gut.

"Stop that," Wedge mumbled softly, as if already conceding defeat.

Zack rolled his eyes. "C'mon man, you gotta do better than that! Try... Hmm, okay, momma jokes are cheap, but they're effective. Or if you can find some part of the disser that they may be just as self-conscious about, point it out."

Wedge scratched his head in response. "Well, what about a guy like you? You're perfect..."

"See, there's your problem. You assume that just because I'm good looking, I'm perfect. Well, what else have you noticed?"

Biggs decided to interject. "You're a jerk!"

"Exactly!" Zack admitted adamantly, pointing at the lean young man.

"How's that help me?" Wedge asked, noticing he was still in Zack's grasp.

"Well, call me a jerk or something."

"Okay... uh, you're a uhm, jerk."

Zack slipped his arm off of Wedge and looked at him disappointedly. He resorted to shaking his black, spiky head. "This is gonna take some work," he admitted, putting his hand to his head.

Elsewhere in the slums, Cloud found himself laying on a bed... a very basic, uncomfortable bed as far as beds went.. but still better than anything he'd slept on in the past few weeks. Still, sleep wasn't on his agenda right now. While he could barely comprehend the world around him, he could tell he was being looked over by some kind of doctor. It was hard to tell, as the room he was in was barely lit.

Dox was a taller man, lean with only a subtle hint of muscle. He had slicked back, short gray hair along with a neatly groomed beard which covered his chiseled chin. He wore average clothing: A button down shirt along with a fake animal skin vest and black trousers. The only thing identifying him as a doctor was a cloth patch with a red cross on his right arm and a stethoscope around his neck. He studied his patient for a few minutes, trying to ascertain his average heart and breathing rates. The doctor took Cloud's temperature, a blood sample for study later, and checked for head injuries.

The strange thing was, at face value, the young blonde haired SOLDIER was in perfect health. Dox then remembered Johnny telling him that Cloud had allegedly been shot a few years ago. Dox felt around Cloud's uniform for some kind of zipper or other release mechanism. He found one in the back and proceeded to peel the SOLDIER armor off the young man. What seemed like leather was way too heavy to be such, and seemed to have kelvar links sewn into several horizontal rows inside the top.

However, a greater surprise awaited Dox as he examined Cloud's chest. Most gunshot wounds leave a circular mark. Granted, extra damaged tissue and whatnot could have been damaged, or perhaps healed wrong resulting in odd-shaped scars... but no gunshot wound could of created what Dox saw on Cloud's chest.

"A SWORD wound?" Dyne cried out in surprise.

Dyne and Tifa were standing behind Dox, who was sitting in a chair overlooking Cloud. The older man simply nodded.

"Allow me to explain," he started, "This wound is over five inches long, going up and down. However, it's less than an inch across. There's a slightly smaller, yet similar wound on his back, as though the weapon had gone almost all the way through him. No gun in the world could produce such a phenomenon. If anything, the exit would would have been bigger, never mind that the bullet would have to be... well, the size of a sword."

Tifa thought this over for a moment. "So... there's no chance of it being a bullet wound? What if that professor guy... I forget his name... opened Cloud up, removed the bullet and closed him back up? That would make an incision like that, right?"

"Perhaps..." Dox admitted, "But there's no evidence of stitches, and no evidence of a bullet ever entering his body. Granted, I haven't preformed any... invasive procedures to see if a bullet was actually in there, but otherwise, I'm pretty sure it was a sword."

"That doesn't make any sense!" Tifa tried, "That reactor was full of SOLDIERs, and I'm sure that scientist guy couldn't use a sword... I mean, have you seen a SOLDIER's sword? They're bigger than my waist!"

"Tifa, calm yourself..." Dyne requested. "It's not like he's implicating Zack.." Dyne thought about that for a moment, "Are you?"

"You both realize that you're not making any sense?" Dox interjected. "Anyway, no, no average SOLDIER sword could make a wound this, ah, small. Relatively speaking, of course." He paused to let that sink in for a moment. "Save one. Sephiroth supposedly possessed a thin, long sword."

Tifa blinked. "Ye... yeah, yes! So then... uhm... Wait, no."

"What?" Dyne asked.

"The SOLDIERS arrived after Sephiroth was gone," Tifa explained.

Dyne put his good hand to his chin, then ran it through his short, dark blue hair. "Well, Dox, all I can say is try and get him better... maybe he can give us his little piece of this... well, what's turning into a puzzle." He then turned to Tifa. "Anyway, where's Zack now?"

"Uhm," Tifa had to think about it for a second, "Still walking around with Biggs and Wedge I think. You wanna try and get he truth outta him?"

"No... no. He might of been mistaken, or if he IS lying, he might have his reasons, and they may not be all that malicious. No, I think we should just tell him about tomorrow's plan... get his input, see if he wants to help out."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Tifa asked.

"Of course. When have I ever been wrong?" was Dyne's coy reply.

"Well, there was the time you wanted us to use trains as mobile bombs..."

"er, yeah..."

"Oh..." Dox piped in, "And what about your infamous 'balloon bomb' plan? Too bad the plate was in the way..."

"Well, you see, that.. "

Tifa put on a smile and interrupted her leader once more, "Or the time we marched right up to the Shinra building to demand an audience with the President and what happened... Oh yeah, that's right, they were CLOSED for a holiday!"

Tifa and Dox broke out into a fit of giggles as Dyne maintained his composure. "Well, I'm never wrong about people," he stated flatly, shoving his good hand into his pocket. Tifa and Dox finally managed to settle down, prompting Dox to stand.

"Listen, I've gotta go get some books and do some research," Dox started, while stretching, "Maybe help me to better understand what's wrong with this boy."

"Is it okay if I stay with him, Dox?" Tifa asked.

"It shouldn't hurt," Dox said with a smile. "In fact, if you could be a dear and write down if something significant happens, I'd appreciate it!"

"Will do." Tifa replied, returning the smile. Dyne and Dox then turned to leave, heading out the door and down the ladder of the large, red building. They entered the second floor training facility...

It wasn't a very large place, but it was efficient. It looked like some sort of psuedo gymnasium, with punching bags, rubber floor mats, and exercise equipment. It was referred to as "Beginners hall", as this was where new recruits were trained. The place was empty, devoid of any activity. AVALANCHE had not made many new members in recent months, and also, more advanced facilities could be found elsewhere.

The duo continued down the freshly installed wooden stairs to a small shop which was really a cover for a weapons depository. The shopkeepers nodded a fond hello to Dyne, which he returned in kind.

"You know..." Dyne started, "This is the happiest I've seen Tifa in recent memory..."

There was a silence as the two made their way slowly to the 7th Heaven Bar.

"Do you think that's because she's been reunited with a few old friends?" Dox asked, almost rhetorically.

"Maybe... I don't know. She certainly seems happier around... uhm, the kid with the blonde hair up there... than she does around Zack. And near as I can tell, there WAS something between those two, whether they want to admit it or not... So I'm not sure why she's not so thrilled to see Zack."

"Well, you did say she had blurted out an accusation of some sort..." Dox responded.

"Yes. She claims he had left her to die." Dyne said slowly.

"But her memories of the time are no more accurate than Zack's. Besides, what was he able to do? She had been stabbed by the worlds greatest warrior, the fact that she's alive is almost paradoxal." Dox pointed out.

Dyne raised an eyebrow. "How do you know so much about this?"

"I was listening in. I'm more than just a doctor, remember?"

"Ah," was Dyne's simple reply.

Once inside the bar, Dox proceeded into the back, and pressed an otherwise nonchalant brick in the wall. A large refrigerator slid to the side, revealing a passageway into AVALANCHE's computer library, Dox's destination. The girl Jessie was in there, typing away at a station in the corner. She noticed Dox enter and waved to him.

"Hello, Jessie!" Dox said over-adamantly. He took a seat at the closest terminal and started his search...

Dyne meanwhile sat at the semi-circular table, and went deep into thought. He was not the kind of man who let minor details or otherwise useless bits of information escape him. He always tried to see every possible eventuality, analyze every bit of data as his disposal, try to see what others could not. It was part of what made him a good leader, the fact that he seemed almost psychic. Dyne dismissed that possibility due to lack of evidence, and humbly maintained that he was just a genius and good with people. And yes, he did see the humor in that.

He didn't know how long he was in his trance, and information raced through his mind, trying to determine Zack allegiance, Tifa's feelings, Shinra's latest plans and counter-plans, a perfect pie recipe... but soon he found himself interrupted by laughter that increased in volume as three bodies wandered into the bar...

It was Zack, Biggs, and Wedge.

"Heh heh.. S-Say it again, Zack!" Wedge pleaded.

Zack groaned and rolled his eyes, but did so playfully. "Okay..." Zack cleared his throat, and when he spoke, his voice sounded quite a bit like Tifa's, "I'm not a tease, really! Bouncy bouncy bouncy!"

Wedge cracked up again. Biggs on the other hand felt the joke lost something the fifth time around, though he still let out a chuckle.

"AHEM."

The three men's heads snapped in the direction of the disturbance. It was Dyne, who they hadn't noticed was present. "I don't appreciate you poking fun at my top lieutenant..."

"Why, afraid we might pop those balloons tapped to her chest?" Zack quipped

"Huh?" Dyne replied.

"You know, when you poke a balloon, it can pop... and Tifa has big... ah, forget it," Zack tried, though finally realizing the futility of explaining the joke.

"Yes... anyways," Dyne started to say, standing up, "Biggs. Wedge. Occupy yourselves elsewhere, I need to talk to Zack."

The two young men nodded their heads and left the bar. Zack looked back at them, then to Dyne.

"Whassup?"

"Sit," Dyne offered, leveling his gun arm at the chair adjacent to his, as if pointing at it. Zack shrugged and plopped himself down.

Dyne lowered himself onto his own chair, making sure he was comfortable. He gave Zack a long, hard stare, devoid of emotion or thought. Zack just looked back, confused. After about a minute, Dyne conceded that Zack was either a very hard person to read, or that there was no mind to read behind those glowing, dark blue eyes.

"I'm going to be frank..." Dyne started...

"Hi, Frank!" Zack interrupted.

"..." Dyne repressed the urge to laugh, and attempted to recompose himself. "That's not what I meant."

"I know, I'm just playin'."

"This isn't a game."

"And that's not a comeback," Zack pointed out,

Dyne paused, then shook his head. "Can't you be serious for five seconds?"

"Mmm, let's find out. One. Two. Three. F... BLAAHH!!" And with that, Zack stuck out his tongue and crossed his eyes. "Shit. Guess not, sorry!"

Dyne fought a losing battle against the smile forming on his face. He slowly shook his head again until he could regain control, and then looked back to Zack. "Okay, listen. We've got an operation going down tomorrow. Most of it is planned out, but I think I'll need your help filling in the gaps."

"Oh?" Zack said with growing interest. "What're y... WE doing?"

"We're going up top to protest the use of Mako reactors. We've got evidence that the radiation produces monsters. Your story of five years ago confirms and elaborates things Tifa heard about... incriminating things..."

"Oh, I get it!" Zack replied ecstatically, "If you have a Shinra SOLDIER backing up your claims, the people will have to believe you!"

"Mmm, no," Dyne replied, "Not exactly. You see, what better time than during a protest of Mako reactors, than for one to blow up?"

"Hmm. You're right. But how do you know when a reactor's gonna blow up? That's not even supposed to happen..." Zack pointed out.

"Please tell me you're joking?"

"uhm... No, I... Oh, wait I get... Oooooohhhhhhhhhh. Just one question."

"Shoot."

"What about civilians? Won't they be hurt?"

"No, we're triple checking the reactor plans and bombs now. It'll seem like an interior explosion... some live Mako may escape into the streets, but it's not like the whole thing will explode and send debris everywhere."

"Oh, okay.. but, won't people like, KNOW it's you guys?"

"Hm?"

"Well, thin about it. You'd be going around saying 'Mako reactors are unstable, blah blah blah' then BOOM the reactor explodes and you're all like 'see, see?' and people aren't going to think you had something to do with it?"

Dyne's eyes widened at these words. He remained silent for a minute as his mind began to calculate that very possibility. "Zack... you're right... heaven help me, you're right! You've got a great head on your shoulders, you know that?"

"Aww, shucks!" Zack responded, pretending to blush and giving a wave of his hand. "So, now what? I mean, you're not still going to go through with it..."

"No, we have to. Too much has been invested in this plan... but we'll skip part 'A". We'll simply head in and assist with the relief effort, THEN verbally bash the reactors. That'll work much better."

"Huh... if you say so. So what's my part?"

"You're going into Reactor 1 with Biggs, Wedge, Jessie and myself. You'll use your knowledge of the reactor's layout and fighting skills to assist in the operation... you DO know the inside of a Mako reactor, right?"

"Hells yeah!" Zack responded, almost insulted. "Me and my buddies would sneak in there after hours in SOLDIER training to goof off and shit!"

"Well, great!" Dyne replied, standing up. "We'll be doing this early in the morning, so you should get your rest now..."

"I could use it," Zack said with a groan, picking himself up. He went to walk to the door when something caught his foot. Without thinking, he yanked his foot back towards himself. His boot had gotten caught by a nail that stuck out of the middle leg of the table. The force of him yanking his leg ripped the table leg from its hinges. As Zack stumbled, the table fell forward, the other two legs no longer able to support it. The table crashed into the ground and broke into a few pieces with an unusually loud CRASH. Dyne stumbled back away from the table as it had fallen, and looked at its ruins with dismay.

"That was my favorite table..." Dyne lamented.

"Uh, um, sorry..." Zack managed to spit out.

"It's no big. Let me show you to your new home..." Dyne replied as the two men walked out the door.

The stars above Midgar could not be seen with the naked eye. Ambient lights of both buildings and the Mako reactors made it impossible to see the sky at night...

Unless you happen to be in the Shinra building, anywhere above the 30th floor, at least. It was on one such floor, the 57th, where the sound had come from. A sound not at all uncommon during business hours, but very rare late at night. The sound of a Fax machine's ink cartridge sliding back and forth, its mechanical whirl echoing through the halls. The fax machine spat out its yield, a piece of paper, with the following message:

"5:00 AM. Reactor 1."

The paper was retrieved by a shadowy hand. Grunting in disproval at its contents, the entity tore the paper up with its bare hands, and discarded the remains into its pocket, making sure no other eyes would ever see the message.

The figure quickly exited the building, frantic, but not uncareful. It would do his real boss no good if any ill became of him, and especially if he could not deliver his message.

AVALANCHE had a spy in its midst...