Author's Note: Well, here it is. You asked for it. You pleaded for it. You threatened various creatively painful procedures for it. Apologies for more talk and less karaoke, but as I noted in the first author's note, this entire story is simply an Unwind and Be Stupid project. As I write this, my best friend is recovering from a nasty collision with a minivan, and I feel in dire need of stupidity after spending five hours in the ER.
Apologies to anybody I may offend with this story, and there are quite a few of them out there to be leery of.
WARNING! This story contains blatant Yuffentine and Aeriseph romance, as well as the intimation that both pairs are sufficiently advanced in their relationships to periodically repair to the broom closet. Since this is set several years after the game, you "Christ! She's sixteen!" people don't have to worry anymore.
Announcement: If you want to meet me (and I can't imagine why), me and two of my friends are going to be at Anime Central 2005 in Rosemont, Illinois, for all three days. I'm dressing as Tifa, and my friends are Aeris and Cloud. We're a cheerful group, and quite eager to cosplay or horse around. You'll recognize us immediately; I'll be the Tifa crossing her arms and rolling her eyes as the Aeris snogs her long-haired boyfriend. You may see me attempting to preserve some shred of dignity by pretending I don't know them.
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII and all associated characters and concepts belong to Squaresoft Inc. I'm not sure who Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde belong to, but whoever it is, I want to buy 'em. Jesus Christ, if not in the public domain, ought to be. Ditto for angels and Mary Magdalene. (Note: I'm an observant Catholic, so if anybody out there takes issues with Yuffie's Halloween costume, please remember that I'm sure God has a sense of humor. He created Ralph Nader, didn't he? And don't even get me started on the duck-billed platypus.)
Party City: Midgar , Part II: HELLOWEEN
by Morrigan, the Nightmare Queen
"Altruism is the single most cursed facet of human existence. It goes against all logic or scientific conscience; nature has declared that the fittest must survive, to benefit the human race, but every day people reach out to rescue the unworthy dregs from their wretched existences. Poverty, cruelty, avarice, war, disease and darkness- none are misfortunes to all, for they serve only to wipe away the excess material which may not benefit the whole. To be merciful is to be weakened; to pity is to degrade oneself. "
"Sheesh, Vinnie, you're really getting into character, huh?"
Glaring, Vincent Valentine- ex-Turk extraordinaire, current resident of the newly remodeled Shinra Mansion and also currently wishing for one of those handy Shinra-issue suicide capsules- tugged at his frock coat with his golden claw. "If I am to attend this ridiculous function," he muttered sourly, "Then I must present a facade I feel comfortable with. And in my current mood, this was the most appropriate."
His girlfriend of six months, intrepid ninja and convicted felon (sorry, materia hunter) Yuffie Kisaragi, watched bemusedly as the demonic man struggled with- and lost to- his Halloween costume. "I may not be exactly ordinary-looking," he finally snapped, breaking character for a moment, "But do I really have to wear this getup? Whose bright idea was it to have an AVALANCHE party, anyway? We just had one half a year ago!"
"That's your big problem, Vinnie," Yuffie sighed, adjusting the coat. "Just because you turned sixty-one two weeks ago, you have to act like an old fart. Here's an instant message from REALITY: Cloud and Tifa got married, Aeris and Sephiroth were resurrected and are probably sleeping together, Shera is forcing Cid to give up smoking, and you and I are going to another AVALANCHE reunion bash. And Cloud said Halloween costumes, so we're wearing Halloween costumes. End of discussion. So-" she said, stepping back and patting down her homespun robes, "How do I look?"
"Sacrilegious." Vincent sighed.
Yuffie glowered. "Look, it's NOT sacrilege because I'M not into this three-gods-in-one stuff. Father, son, and holy spirit. Right. How the hell do they do family reunions if they're all in one body? And shouldn't there be, oh, a MOTHER involved?"
"Don't ask me. But if you're going to attend as Jesus Christ, could you at least try to make the illusion believeable?" Vincent asked, although without much hope. "You know, maybe a beard or something? Meeting the supposed Savior of Mankind and seeing that it's the same person that I- you know- 'ed last night . . . it kind of puts one off organized religion."
The young ninja grinned suddenly and wrapped both of her arms around one of his. "C'moooooon, mortal," she slurred, "If'n ah'm goin' ta'a Hallyween par-tay with ma man, ah ain't goin as no man!"
"What the hell kind of accent is that supposed to be?"
"Dunno. Just came to me. Anyway- use your prodigiously horned head, dark-n-sexy! We can't have a male Jesus turn up on the arm of Dr. H. Jekyll, can we?" She thought for a moment. "Certainly raises some interesting questions about the church, though. Anyway, if you'd dressed up like Mary Magdalene the way I'd asked-"
"NO." Firmly, Vincent shoved that mental image out of his head. "YOU may be willing to crossdress, but if you wanted to date a drag queen, you should have gone after Strife when you had the chance. I'll play Dr. Jekyll for the evening- either that or Count Dracula, and my dignity could hardly withstand that, God knows- but I draw the line at dressing up as a Biblical whore!"
Yuffie didn't respond immediately. In fact, she didn't even move, just stared intensely. Then she calmly tackled the surprised man to the floor- and pinned him down easily, too, even despite his enhanced strength and her encumbering robe. And unfortunately for Vincent, the base of his spine made contact with the Outsider revolver, which he had accidentally dropped earlier when Yuffie had begun forcing him into his costume.
"AaaaAH! Son of a-"
"You know," the shinobi purred, flexing her fingers experimentally, "I like it when you're angry. It makes me think of Chaos. A big, strong sexy . . . demon."
Suddenly, Vincent's breath was coming much faster.
"MY demon."
The claw tightened involuntarily. Its razor-sharp digits were scraping five long lines in the antique floorboards, but neither of them even noticed. Spots all over the house, including the porcelain bathtub, had similar scars.
"Vinnie . . . I really did like it just now."
And if it weren't for the quick use of a Hi-Potion, Yuffie would have had a matching set on one shoulder.
Safe sex really did have a new meaning for some people.
"Yuffie . . . " Vincent hissed, "We don't have time . . . "
"The hell we don't, koibito." Out of unconscious habit, Yuffie shifted her weight to her left side, moving out of claw zone. "It's only five PM. We've got all the time in the world . . . and it's my turn to be on top."
"Let me guess. You drank a Hyper instead of coffee this morning?"
"Awww, you guessed."
The elongated canine teeth which had once frightened the ninja were now displayed in an ominous grin.
"Well, who am I to refuse a lady anything?"
Le Casa Strife, 6:57 PM
"HOLD STILL, DAMMIT!"
"Tiiiiiiifaaaaaaa . . . do I HAVE to? I really gotta-"
"YES, YOU DO! NOW HOLD STILL!"
flash
"All right, can I go to the bathroom now?"
"Didn't I say something about doing your business BEFORE you got dressed . . . ?"
"Yes, you did, and yes you were right and I'm sorry and I'll do all the dishes for the rest of the year but please please please help me out of this thing!"
Tifa- currently known for the day as Dona Corneo- raised one dyed blonde eyebrow. "Why are you panicking? It's just like what you normally wear."
"PLANET NO IT ISN'T AND I HAVE TO GO REALLY BAD TIFA HELP ME!"
"You know, it's a good thing Sephiroth and Aeris aren't here yet, because you look . . . I'm not gonna say." Stifling giggles, Tifa knelt down and carefully peeked under the satin skirt. "Damn, you weren't kidding. You must be another Grinch, because your bladder is three sizes too big."
"HELP!"
The martial artist straightened up, now businesslike. "OK. It's shoes first, then pantyhose, then the girdle, then the thong. When you're done, it's in reverse. Got it?"
"Shoes hose girdle thong THANKS!"
Tifa blinked.
When she opened her eyes again, Cloud had disappeared, and a sigh of relief accompanied by the sound of a waterfall was echoing from the first-floor bathroom.
"Honestly, why did I marry that dope?"
A minute later, the sheepish warrior emerged, wearing an expression of gratitude. "Thanks, Tif," he said, attempting to loosen the bright red sash around his waist. "When I suggested Don Corneo and his bride for a Halloween costume, I kinda thought . . . well . . . I guess I figured / would be the guy, and you would be the girl. Same as usual. I'm sorry I took you for granted, honey."
One mind-blowing kiss later, the natural blonde took off for the kitchen to check on the canapes, still managing to look handsome and manly in a violet satin dress, spangly stiletto heels, and more makeup than Scarlett with dry skin. Tifa, her red velvet bathrobe and violent Mohawk rather askew, sighed and collapsed against the wall.
"Oh, right. True love. If this keeps up, I'm going to have heartache failure."
App. 7:30 PM
Unsurprisingly, everybody chose to arrive at the party in their own unique manner. Only five minutes after the Highwind unceremoniously destroyed the backyard by landing right in Tifa's raspberry bushes, the Strifes' respectable neighbors were shocked- yes, shocked!- when a massive motorcycle roared up the street, bearing a first class Shinra SOLDIER and an angel with a partially see-through robe and real wings. Barret and Marlene (the former in a Blade costume, the latter dressed as a princess) appeared in an old turquoise pickup truck, with Red XIII and his new mate, Proginoskes, modeling very interesting feline editions of Ifrit and Shiva in the back.
As the pickup was being unloaded, a sleek black convertible purred up to the house, driven by a clean-shaven Oriental edition of Aragorn (The Lord of the Rings), who was accompanied by a suspiciously blonde Arwen and a rather drunken and untidy Legolas. The 'elf'- who evidently could not be persuaded to abandon his explosion of red hair and ever-present sunglasses- fell rather heavily to the sidewalk and had to be helped up by the other two, who were clearly used to this duty and performed it resignedly.
The first-class SOLDIER looked at Blade and raised one silver eyebrow questioningly. In reply, the other gave him a dirty look and pointedly turned away.
"Jackass," the SOLDIER murmured, then turned back to the motorcycle and lifted the angel off. She gave him a gentle shove as he set her down on the ground.
"You didn't have to do that, Seph. I'm not dead," she said.
"ANYMORE!" Blade shouted over his shoulder, before turning his back again and marching into the house, princess in tow.
"Fuck you!" Sephiroth retorted, rubbing his bare arms as the cold October wind whispered around them. "Damn, I'm freezing! How the hell did Strife manage the North Crater in this getup?"
Aeris shrugged and adjusted her halo. "Don't ask me. I wasn't with them by that time. And incidentally, this is what you get for just digging through a box of old clothes instead of getting an actual costume for the party."
The former general looked sideways at her. "You vetoed every costume idea I had."
"Yes. That. Well, 'Sephiroth: Triumphant Son of Jenova,' complete with a little Cloud doll impaled on the end of the Masamune, wouldn't really fly at an AVALANCHE reunion. And the Shinra lab coat and glasses just bring up too many bad memories for everyone, and that ought to include you."
"What about that other idea?"
Aeris choked. "Fine at home, NOT fine at a costume party. I think to qualify as a costume, it has to be more than a fig leaf. Honestly, Sephiroth, where's your sense of decency?"
Sephiroth snickered. "I lost it the day you decided to jump my bones."
"Me? Jump YOUR bones? YOU were the one backing me up against the wall!"
"Your fault."
"MY fault?"
"You know what that little black dress does to me-"
"What it does to you! You were the one who bought it for me!"
Sephiroth scratched his head. "Really?"
"Yes, really."
"I might be thinking about a different one. You've had so many damn dresses, I can't keep track of them any more."
The Cetra raised one eyebrow in a very Vincent-esque gesture. "No, it was that little black silk one. Remember, the cleaning lady found it in the chandelier after we-"
"Hey!" A very familiar voice yelled. "Outta the way, &#ers! #in' comin' through here!"
Aeris and Sephiroth turned simultaneously, staring at the incongruous pair who had disembarked from the Highwind and were now making their way up the driveway. Whatever reservations Cid and Shera might have had about each other, they had obviously made up for lost time; the pilot's arm was firmly fastened around Shera's waist. A good thing, as Shera was modelling a "Tavern Wench" costume, and that arm was the largest thing she was currently wearing. Cid, on the other hand, was rigged out as some sort of ninja- complete with purple hair, dark-blue mask and cloak, poofy pants, bare chest, pointy shoes, and two plastic swords slung over his back.
"Someone's been playing too much Final Fantasy IV," Sephiroth observed dryly. "Edge?"
"Her &$ing idea," Cid growled, cigarette planted firmly between his jaws. Shera tsked and plucked the white cylinder out of his mouth.
"Cid, what did we talk about?" she chided.
"No #&in' cigarettes," Cid ground out between clenched teeth.
"And if you want to smoke one, what do you do?"
The reply was almost inaudible. "Have some &#in' gum."
"Attaboy!" Shera cheered, jamming a large square of Nicorette between the pilot's tensed jaws. Groaning and muttering something unprintable under his breath, Cid obediently began to chew, obviously calming down as the gum began to work its chemical magic. Sephiroth snickered.
"Somebody's whipped, eh, Gainesborough?"
"SEPHIROTH!" the Cetra yelled from the front steps of the house. "Stop standing around out there! You're going to catch cold!"
"Yessir. Hojo. Aeris. Argh!" Sephiroth slapped himself out of the automatic response. "Coming, dear!"
The Strifes had obviously been busy with the preparations for the Halloween party. The living room of the two-story house was decorated in the best Haunted Mansion manner, with negative neon lights, elaborately draped cobwebs, and the occasional oversized spider lurking on the refreshment table. Cloud had somehow managed to acquire and hang a giant pinata shaped like a human skull, and Tifa had decorated it with a black ponytailed wig and little round glasses and hung a sign next to it: DESTROY HOJO, WIN 1 MASTERED KNIGHTS OF ROUND. The stereo was set across an open coffin, and a real live Yin-Yang was chained to the wall next to the bathroom door. Somebody had dropped a chunk of dry ice into the toilet, causing plumes of cold fog to drizzle over its edges and drift through the rooms; there was also a dummy made up like Rufus Shinra in the bathtub, creatively festooned with blood and shards of broken glass. Scrawled on its shirtfront were the words WEAPON 1, SHINRA 0.
Hauling a drunken Elf imposter across the threshhold, Tseng and Elena stopped and glanced around, momentarily impressed. Then the Oriental Turk dropped Reno's arm, strode over to the hanging skull pinata, and dealt it such a mighty whack that the bottles rattled on the refreshment table. Since Cloud had reinforced the pinata, it failed to break apart, but Tseng didn't seem to care about that. He ripped off the skull's glasses and efficiently stuffed them through one gaping eye socket. Smiling beatifically, he then returned to his fellow Turks and helped "Arwen" haul "Legolas" to the cobweb-festoooned couch.
"Nice to see you guys could make it," Tifa said, trying and failing to suppress a grin. "Since you guys helped with the reconstruction and all, we figured it was time for a peace party. Cool costumes!"
"Thanks- oof- a lot," Elena gasped, dropping Reno's lower half onto the sofa. "I like the Mohawk. Dare I ask what Cloud's wearing?"
Tifa shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh, he's just in something we dug out of the closet. You'll see him in a few minutes- he's just in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the food. How'd you bribe Reno into wearing the Legolas costume?"
The blonde woman snickered. "Well, we were gonna do "Lord of the Rings" from the beginning, and he and Tseng had a huge argument over who was going to be Aragorn. We finally convinced him that girls loved Legolas, and then of course he was all for it. But after we bought the costumes and tried them on, he started looking down the front of my gown, and then Tseng went after him with a shotgun-"
"Do I really want to hear the end to that story?"
"Probably not." Elena glanced around. "Wow, I love what you did with this place. Uh . . . what's with the Yin-Yang?"
Tifa rolled her eyes. "Cloud's idea. He's planning on getting everyone into a drinking game later, so that thing's there to make sure nobody sneaks into the bathroom."
"Cool!" Elena's eyes sparkled. "What game?"
"It's called 'I've Never.'"
"Uh oh . . . "
"Exactly."
Neither woman, occupied with their conversation, saw the widened pair of eyes staring out at them.
Mrs. Katherine O'Connelly had lived at Number 4, Evergreen Avenue, Kalm for her entire life. She had always done everything the exact same way, just as her mother and her grandmother had before her; feed the cat, feed the husband, stitch herself a few new furniture covers, and of course keep up on all the news of the neighborhood. Roger went to work every morning at seven o'clock exactly, and always would; a good man, Roger, they broke the mold when they made him. After making sure his tie was neat and his suit was brushed, Mrs. Katherine O'Connelly would send him off to the shop with a little packed lunch, have herself a nice cup of tea (she'd never taken to this newfangled habit of morning coffee; no sir, good old-fashioned tea was just right for her), and take a look at the neighbors across the way.
Being a formidable matron of considerable experience, Mrs. Katherine O'Connelly felt it her solemn duty to keep an eye on everyone and everything that might go on in the neighborhood. Some of these young folks simply didn't know how to behave; the things they got up to would make a less intelligent woman than Mrs. Katherine O'Connelly shudder, but the noble lady never turned away from her task. If somebody didn't watch over these people, make sure they behaved properly and let the rest of the street know if they weren't nice, there'd be no telling what might happen!
Take those Strifes next door, for instance. Mrs. Katherine O'Connelly had been suspicious of those two ever since they'd moved in two or three years back; that young man, Cloud (now what kind of name was that, she wondered? Certainly not the name of a properyoung fellow), went about with a great huge sword all day, "protecting the town" or so it was said. Well, Mrs. Katherine O'Connelly knew that she'd never wanted any protection, thank you very much, and certainly wasn't going to trust any sort of man that carried a weapon! There were rumors in town that he'd been involved in that horrid Meteor business a few years ago; something about some dreadful young man who had run amok and caused a great deal of damage. (Obviously not properly brought up, Mrs. Katherine O'Connelly knew instantly; her children would never be on the nine o'clock news!) There had been a photograph of the culprit in the morning papers- a hoodlum with long(!) dyed (!!) hair, dressed like a criminal and carrying a sword too! If Mr. Strife had been involved in any of that disturbing business, Mrs. Katherine O'Connelly would never invite him over for luncheon, no thank you!
But it was that Mrs. Strife that truly shocked and disappointed the worthy matron. Tifa Strife dressed like a harridan, wearing short skirts and armless shirts, and did her shopping on a great black motorbike with "Hardy Daytona" stencilled on the side. Played the piano beautifully; she'd obviously been brought up with some sort of proper education, but she'd thrown it all away to marry that Cloud and strut about like a harlot! Every day, watching Tifa Strife tear down the street on the motorbike, Mrs. Katherine O'Connelly would shake her head in disapproval, and telephone her friends to report on the latest offenses to taste and decency at the Strife house.
Since those Strifes were at least adults, Mrs. Katherine O'Connelly had assumed that there wouldn't be any goings-on around their house on All Hallows' Eve; after all, they might not be respectable, but they might at least have the common sense not to make themselves up and parade their shame in public. Unfortunately, she had been gravely mistaken, and now stationed herself behind the translucent chintz curtains to watch the goings-on. After all, she at least was a respectable woman, and ought to know exactly what they were doing so that she might upbraid them properly the next day.
The first blow badly rocked Mrs. Katherine O'Connelly, and she knew in her stomach that it was not the worst to come: that Cloud Strife was walking around the house in a dress! Made up like a lady of the evening, with painted face and high heels, no less! Mrs. Katherine O'Connelly tsked and shook her head disapprovingly, making a notation in her small fabric-covered book. The Housing Community Council would be hearing of this, oh yes! Shameful parading and unnatural practices behind closed doors! Did they have no respect for the reputation of the neighborhood?
Five minutes later, there was a roaring overhead like the voice of the Devil, and a horrible huge airship came catapulting out of the sky and landed in the Strifes' backyard. Mrs. Katherine O'Connelly wrinkled her nose disgustedly. Those raspberry bushes had made a wonderful contrast to her own begonia patch, and now the color scheme of every backyard on the street was put off! Another notation for the little book.
A man in a purple mask, oh my goodness! Smoking! A great huge man in black leather, leading a little princess- what was going on with that, Mrs. Katherine O'Connelly didn't want to know! Some half-naked young lady in white, riding another motorcycle with the long-haired man Mrs. Katherine O'Connelly had seen in the papers! The little book was rapidly filling up. Such shocking practices, such disgusting actions- the Housing Community Council must be rung up immediately. What had ever become of proper behavior?
Mrs. Strife was now talking to yet another young woman, this one in a decidedly indecent pale green gown and pointed ear tips. Where did young people get their ridiculous clothes these days, Mrs. Katherine O'Connelly wondered. Drinking! A horrid monster, chained to the wall! A skull on a wire! Oh dear, oh dear, what abominations were these horrible people committing?
There was a rush of air about the front of the house, and a rhythmic whooshing noise. Mrs. Katherine O'Connelly craned her neck, straining to see what was going on. There was another whoosh and a scream- if Mrs. Katherine O'Connelly had ever heard such a noise before, she would have recognized it as a yell of delight- and a gigantic winged figure came into view, clutching an Asian young woman in long robes. The woman was wriggling and shouting, and the winged thing had its teeth bared-
The little fabric-covered book twitched slightly as, shocked beyond her capacity for rational thought, Mrs. Katherine O'Connelly collapsed in a dead faint on the floor.
"Hey Vincent, did you hear something?" Yuffie asked as the Chaos beast gently set her down on the Strifes' front walk. Between the shinobi's new innovations in the area of recreational sex, and Vincent's years of experience in said occupation, it had taken the couple a long time to get their minds back to the present after Yuffie had jumped on her lover. By the time they had found all their clothes again, it was a quarter after six, and Vincent had been forced to morph into Chaos in order to get them to the party on time.
"Yeh." the monster responded. "Ieh heah thuthiiiin-"
"Demorph the six-inch teeth, then answer, okay?"
A few moments later, Vincent was relatively normal. The dark man readjusted his clothing as the last vestiges of horn sucked into his scalp. "Yes, I did hear something. A sharp gasp, following by an accelerated heartbeat and then a thud. Either we weren't the only ones catching a quickie before the party, or someone just fainted."
"Knowing Tifa and Cloud, what do you think?"
"I think we'd better knock a few times before we go in."
Yuffie lifted her hand to knock, but the door flew open before her hand met the wood. Cloud stood there in full female splendor, a lipstick-stained grin lighting up his face. "Hey, Yuff!" he exclaimed, sweeping the surprised ninja up in a giant hug. "Great to see you again! Hey, happy Halloween, Vincent! Where were you guys? We've been expecting you!"
"Hello, Cloud."
"Ow- Strife- your underwire's poking me- ow-!" Gasping for breath, Yuffie struggled out of the warrior's grasp. "Geez, Strife!" she said, adjusting her halo. "What's with the getup? Cid finally beat you in poker?"
"Nah, it's my Halloween costume," Cloud said. "Tifa's Don Corneo. That's right, you guys weren't with us then, were you?"
The edge of Vincent's mouth twitched. "No, and I thank the gods every day for that."
"Too bad. You would've made a great girl. C'mon in, guys! Everyone's here already!" Cloud exclaimed, ushering a red-faced Vincent and a snickering Yuffie into the house.
"Vincent! Yuffie!" Once again, Yuffie found herself engulfed in a massive hug. "It's great to see you guys!" Tifa exclaimed, releasing the gagging ninja. "Love the coat, Vincent. It's so Gothic. Let me guess: Dr. Jekyll?"
"Unfortunately. Yuffie's idea." Glancing around, the dark man stopped dead. "Is that what I think it is?"
"It sure as $# is!" yelled Cid from across the room. "We've been waitin' for you to start it off, demon-boy!"
Vincent eyeballed Cid. "The last time we did karaoke, everyone got drunk and started making up their own songs. If I recall correctly, you and Shera were found in a broom closet on the fourth floor of the hotel."
"Hey, at least I didn't play &$#in' tonsil hockey with the bratty kid!"
"It's a good thing you didn't, Cid. I would have felt obliged to kill you. And revive you. And kill you again. And revive you again. And stuff your remains up the left nostril of a Behemoth. And-"
"All right, honey, let's go," Yuffie interjected, steering Vincent away from the goggling pilot. "That was unneccessary. Should I call Dr. Pagoria again?"
"That man is a hack, Yuffie. 'Buried homicidal tendencies resulting from traumatizing post-relationship stress,' my foot. I don't know why we went there in the first place."
"Because you tried to murder the Amway representative?"
"It was one of Shinra's creations, Yuffie."
"A simple 'no thank you' would have sufficed. Anyway, I think all Amway people glow like that."
Vincent snorted. "Most of them are evil. That I can accept. But calling you an 'underpriveleged minor' was the last straw. Why do people assume that we're some sort of criminals on the lam?"
"The guns, Vincent. Most folks don't walk around with a high-powered rifle that has DEATH PENALTY carved on the stock."
"You haven't been to Midgar, have you?"
Before the conversation could go any farther, Cloud- who was standing by the refreshment table- yelled "HEY!" Everyone swivelled around to look at the braided blonde, who was smiling widely and holding a bottle of champagne.
"OK, everyone!" he said, flourishing the bottle. "This is a party, so Tifa and I have come up with some great party games for everyone to play. Stop rolling your eyes, Barret, these are actually interesting. Everyone grab a chair and get in a circle, and I'll pass out the glasses."
Tifa, Vincent, Yuffie, Cid, Shera, Red XIII and his mate, the three Turks (including Reno, who had done a Finnegan and jerked awake at the scent of alcohol), Aeris, Sephiroth, Cait Sith, Mog, and most of the others did as ordered. In order to make a complete party, Cloud had invited most of the people they had met and befriended during their adventures, and the rest of the company were either older people not interested in a drinking game (such as Bugenhagen) or kids too young to participate, such as Marlene. Barret whispered to his daughter, and Marlene promptly shanghaied Reeve, who was dressed as Ashram from Record of Lodoss War, and informed him that he was taking the younger contingent trick-or-treating.
Meanwhile, Cloud was passing around champagne glasses and bottles. "All right," he announced, taking a seat in the circle of chairs, "This game is called 'I've Never.' The rules are simple: one at a time, everyone says something they've never done, and everyone who has done that thing has to take a drink. I'll start. I've never attempted to kill my father." He looked pointedly at Sephiroth.
The silver-haired man, however, failed to touch his glass. Cloud raised an eyebrow. "Were you listening to the rules? You're supposed to take a drink!"
"Don't look at me," Sephiroth said smoothly. "I never laid a hand on my dad."
Cloud stared. "Didn't you rebel against Hojo?"
The other man rolled his eyes. "Yes, I did that. Big deal. He was about as much my father as Jenova was my mother, Strife."
"Then who-"
Vincent raised a hand. "DNA tests came back last month."
"They've been doing father-son bonding every Friday night," Yuffie commented, trying and failing to stifle a shit-eating grin. "You have not known funny until you've seen the Destroyer of the Cetra in bowling shoes."
Sephiroth growled and began to form a fireball in his hand. "You promised not to mention that!"
"MOVING ON." Aeris interjected, slapping Sephiroth's hand and extinguishing the spell. "My turn. Ummm . . . I've never eaten toast after it fell butter-side down."
Still glaring, Sephiroth took a drink. So did Cloud, Vincent, Tseng, Cid, Red XIII, Tifa, and Cait Sith. The Cetra sighed and shook her head"Men."
"I object!" Tifa said. "It was only down for about a second."
"Tifa, I'm an Ancient. I can detect all forms of life around me, in every shape and form. And there's about thirty-seven thousand types of bacteria on that champagne glass, and you just washed it. Want to make bets?"
Intent on avoiding an argument, Red XIII quickly took his turn. "I've never trained anyone to be a concubine." He looked over at Proginoskes, figuring that nobody would have drunk on that. "Your turn."
His mate shook her head. Red turned.
"Elena?" Tseng said in disbelief as the blonde took a quick swallow from her glass, face bright red.
"It was an unsuccessful experiment. And Hojo caught me in the lab."
Proginoskes scratched herself with one hind leg. "I've never let my mate clean my fur."
Yuffie perked up. "Does it count if-"
"NO." Vincent interrupted. The rest of AVALANCHE looked away, trying to suppress the unbidden, if rather interesting, images that were springing to mind.
Reno was next. He paused for a moment, obviously thinking hard. "Uh . . . hold on a second . . . wait, got i- nope . . . shit . . . nope, did that one . . . umm . . . "
"What's he doing?" Yuffie whispered to Elena.
"Trying to think of something he hasn't done. Talk about difficult."
"Got it!" Reno exclaimed triumphantly. "I have never, consciously or unconsciously, made life easier for anybody!"
"Can't argue with that," Tseng muttered, taking a sip from his glass. "I've never fallen asleep hugging a lethal weapon."
"Tifa?"
"I was seven!"
Elena was next. "I've never had bondage sex."
The game was adjourned due to panic.
8:29 PM
The children returned from trick-or-treating, triumphantly led by Marlene and Priscilla, and trailed behind by an obviously exhausted Reeve. Each and every child had a large smear of chocolate around their mouth, and the shellshocked Shinra City Planner's costume had many similar stains.
"I tried," he moaned, collapsing onto the couch. "I really tried! I was nice! I kept them together! I helped them with their costumes! I carried the ones that got tired! What have I done to deserve . . . this?" He whimpered, lifting up the chocolate-stained hands, and burying his face in Tifa's clean couch. "I tried . . ." he whimpered. "But the sugar . . . the sugar . . . "
"It's all right," Tifa soothed, wiping his forehead with a cool cloth. "Do you want some punch?"
"No! The SUGAR!"
"Ssshh, ssshh, it's okay. Do you want to solve some complex-compound multivariable equations?"
Reeve's face cleared immediately. "Yes. Calmness. Sanity. Equations don't eat sugar. Equations don't climb on your back and pull your hair. Equations don't insist on grabbing onto your legs like hyperactive leeches." He looked at Tifa. "They don't, do they?"
"No, the equations aren't going to get you. Cloud and I keep our receipts in the box in the kitchen. Would you like do to some taxes?"
"Taxes. Nice taxes. Nice, sane taxes . . . "
"Poor guy," Elena said, watching Reeve crawl towards the kitchen. "Before you know it, he'll be clutching the calculator and going 'My Preciousss . . . '"
Tseng shook his head. "He worked in City Planning for years, running figures and designs. He was never prepared for children on a sugar rush."
"Tseng?"
"Yes?"
"If I ever want to have children, shoot me, OK?"
"Promise. But don't you need a partner first?"
"Could be. Are you available?
"Elena, office romances never work out."
"No problem. Our office is a smoking heap of rubble."
Tseng considered that for a moment.
"How fast can you get out of that dress?"
"Maybe we should, you know, find some place that isn't public . . . ?"
"There's a hall closet on the second floor. Meet you there in ten minutes?"
"I think Aeris and Sephiroth are already in there."
Upstairs . . .
"Oh. Oh yeah. Hold on . . . "
"It's not going to fit . . . "
"Don't worry, Ancient. We did this before, didn't we?"
"Not there!"
"Straighten up and . . . how's that?"
"Oooh . . . perfect. Just hold it right there and . . . god damn . . . "
One of the cardinal rules of an AVALANCHE gathering. Never leave the rest of the party looking suspicious, as a certain cat robot is liable to follow you and make life as miserable for you as he can. And there he was, tape recorder in paw, crouched outside of the upstairs hall closet and grinning to himself. Aeris and Sephiroth would pay through the nose in Kitty Chow to keep this tape off the Internet.
Another rule, however, is that no matter what's going on, SOLDIER generals have very good hearing. And when one merely left the party to help his girlfriend fix a problem with her dress, they don't appreciate dirty-minded robots lurking around the hallway looking for blackmail material.
Cid Highwind, looking for the bathroom, stopped and listened. He thought he had heard a mechanical squeal and a couple of crunching noises- but then, he'd already drunk five Midgar Meteor Blasters, and his hand was starting to leave trails in the air when he waved it, so he couldn't be quite sure.
8:41 PM
"Right foot let's stomp- left foot let's stomp- cha-cha real smooth, yeah!"
"What the hell is a 'cha-cha?'" the hunched, black-robed figure muttered. Actually, what he said was "Seee-ffii-roooff!", but after five or six drinks it had become easier to understand him. Cloud hadn't actually invited clones one through fifteen to the party, but they'd turned up anyone. #7, being a bizarre mixture of human and fish, had taken over the job of answering the door for the trick-or-treaters; he (it?) got a kick out of scaring the local munchkins. (Tifa had wound up asking Tseng how the half-man-half-tuna had been created, and had only received the cryptic answer that Hojo shouldn't have been doing lab work during his lunch hour anyway.)
"No, no, like this," Aeris said, rearranging the clone's limbs. "See, it's like a shimmy, only with style. Roll the shoulders, work the hips- no, I don't think this dance was created for people with tentacles, but just go with it. Keep your knees bent- you want to be loose and flexible. That's it!"
"Seee-fi-roff!"
"Why, thank you! See, all you need is a little practice- you could be a real social butterfly if you tried."
"Se-ef?"
"Don't be silly. There's plenty of women that don't care about that!"
"E-ee-fir-off!"
"Well, maybe you'd better get to know them before showing that off . . . just follow your heart."
"See-efi?"
"No, I don't know which. You can follow one of them, anyway."
"You're wasting your time, Aeris," Sephiroth said casually, twisting the top off of a Green Mako beer. "Pokemon-boy over there isn't going anywhere out of the circus anytime soon. If you've got the urge to help someone, try number fourteen."
Aeris frowned. "I thought he hasn't got his bones back yet?"
"Yeah, but on the other hand, he's got a classy barrel. Maybe we can sell him as dishwashing liquid."
Vincent,
who was in the corner recovering from his Yuffie-enforced stint with
the Macarena, found himself wincing in sympathetic pain as the Cetra
seized her lover by the ear and gave him a punitive yank. Hell
and damnation, those two, he
mused. They've gotten beyond the
stabbing-each-other-through-the-back point, but just barely. As
Lucrecia would have said, Field for study there. The psychological
ramifications of the Stockholm syndrome writ large-
"Psst!"
-in the form of formal mortal enemies bound in a circle of mutual destruction-
"Psst! Hey!"
-manifesting itself as a relationship based on argumentive behavior and- "Huh?"
"Hey! Monster man! Can you hear me?"
"Yes," Vincent said cautiously, eyes scanning the room cautiously. As far as he could tell, nobody had spoken. Yuffie, for whom maturity had never been very much of an issue, was busily teaching one of the other Sephiroth clones the hokey-pokey, and everyone else was eating, drinking, laughing, and generally having a good time. Nobody seemed to have said anything-
"Finally," the odd rasping voice said. "I've been shouting myself hoarse all evening, and nobody's paid any attention to me. If I'd known being dead was such a blasted bore, I wouldn't have ordered all those summary executions. I suppose I could have just put them to manual labor in Corel instead . . . "
"Terribly sorry to interrupt your monologue, as enlightening as it is," Vincent broke in, acid dripping from every word. "But would you mind telling me who you are?"
There was a sigh from the unseen person. "You jerks killed me, and you don't even remember me? That's thanks for you. I was your archenemy! All of you owe your fame and fortune to me, and you don't even have the courtesy to grant me a classy epitaph. 'Twisted but Brilliant, perhaps? Just a little politeness for the dead man, you know!"
Vincent started. "Rufus?"
"Bingo! Goddamn it, did Hojo remove your brain as well as your guts? No wonder you spent 30 years in the bloody basement."
One red eye twitched ever so slightly. "Thin ice, Rufus. What do you want?"
"Oh, right, what are you gonna do? Break my legs? If you can find 'em, Vampire Hunter V! Up yours! I'm DEAD! You can't touch me anymore! I can sit here and laugh my spectral ass off and you CAN'T GET ME! AAAAHAHAHAHA- ahem. Sorry. It's been a while.
"Anyway, since it's Halloween tonight, the immortal beings beyond the Lifestream have granted me the right to return for a single evening. Unless I use this night to fulfill my last, unfinished wishes in the mortal plane, I will never be allowed to cross over." The rasping voice took on a sad, haunted tone. "I must complete my task, Valentine, or I shall never know eternal rest. The burden of the dead, trapped between life and the final vale, you will never understand."
Vincent cleared his throat meaningfully.
"Not the same thing, buddy. YOU have a body."
"A body inhabited by four psychotic demons who drink milk straight from the carton."
"We all have our burdens to bear. And I'm afraid I'm gonna have to make it four psychotic demons and a dashingly handsome undead millionaire, Valentine, because I need a body to complete my task and you're the only convenient vessel. Prepare to be boarded."
The dark man started backwards, hands half-raised in instinctive defense. "What?"
"You heard me, Gothika. To gain eternal rest, I have to destroy AVALANCHE. And I'm going to use your body to do it. Have a nice day."
There might have been more words, but Vincent Valentine never heard them. A whooshing sound filled the room, and a bright blue light exploded from somewhere in the vicinity of the drinks table as Rufus J. Shinra IV swept like a hurricane into the undead man's body. There was a strangled scream, and Vincent collapsed to the floor.
"Oh great Da-Chao- Vinnie!" Yuffie exclaimed, dropping #14's tentacles and rushing over to the couch. Vincent was writhing and twisting on the floor, wide red eyes staring sightlessly, fingers clawing at nothing. Aeris, alarmed by the commotion, came running almost as fast as the ninja. When she saw what it was, though, her face cleared considerably, and she smiled and placed a comforting hand on Yuffie's shoulder.
"Don't worry, Yuff. It'll be all right in a couple of minutes. Nobody panic!" she called to the others, who were beginning to gather around as well. Vincent was still twitching, and beginning to foam at the mouth as well. "It's nothing to worry about, guys. Just a bit of a spiritual invasion, I expect."
"A what?" Yuffie demanded, tears in her eyes. She was kneeling by Vincent, peering into the widened eyes and trying to calm him down. To her surprise, Aeris's grin widened, and she began to chuckle softly.
"Oh, just you wait. I suspect this is going to be very interesting . . . "
8:44 PM
"Damn, it's dark."
Rufus Shinra, after momentarily rejoicing in the fact that he had what felt like a solid body again, was rather less happy to find himself in a long, gloomy hallway, lit only by a sputtering candle in a tarnished brass bracket. Evidently, the inside of Vincent's head was as dolorous as the outside.
"Great." Rufus observed to nobody. "I suppose I'd better look for the . . . control center? Whatever is going to help me take over this body, anyway. It's kind of shadowy in here. Crap, when did I start talking to myself?"
Taking the candle out of the bracket, he started down the hall, gingerly picking his way over the creaking boards and dodging the occasional spiderweb. The place was not as empty and featureless as it first appeared; the corridor was lined with doors, of many different shapes and sizes. Most were locked tightly, and seemed unwilling to budge, and as unacquainted with manual labor as Rufus was, he wasn't about to try. But a few of the doors had labels, and the deceased stopped a few times to raise the candle and squint at the letters printed there.
"This way to the Right Brain. This way to the Left Brain. Id. Conscious. Subconscious. Emotional Development, Subdivision Sexua- never mind. Synapses. Traumas. Aha! Motor Control!"
The door labelled Motor Control was not only unlocked, it was halfway open. Warm, buttery firelight spilled out from under the cracked veneer of the portal, along with the sound of guttural laughter and the tinkling of glass. Summoning a generous portion of courage, Rufus pushed the door open.
There were four large creatures sitting around a table in the center of the room, apparently playing poker with an extraordinarily tattered deck of cards. The smaller purple creature was taking generous swigs from a bottle of Jack Daniels (which, being composed of the spirit of consumed liquors, refilled after every gulp) and occasionally belching fireballs. Another one, a lightning-laced Frankenstein, was staring with great intensity at five cards that were, relative to him, the size of his toenail clippings. Two more were swapping filthy jokes, laughing raucously and occasionally slapping down cards or flicking chips across the table.
"So then the one-legged jockey says-" the larger purple demon paused to consider his hand, rearranged two cards, and added two more chips to the pot "-Don't worry about me, sister, I ride sidesaddle!"
"That's rrrg bad," the hockey-masked creature retorted, clicking his stained brown teeth appreciatively. "I see your rrrg fifty, and raise you another twenty."
"I call."
"Hey, Gigas! Whaddaya rrrrr got?"
The Frankenstein scratched one bolt contemplatively. "Nuttin'."
"Hey, moron, you've got a royal-" The smaller demon was immediately shut up by a venemous glare from Chaos and Hellmasker. "-royally fucked-up hand, man," he concluded, eyeing the King and Queen of Diamonds ruefully. "I show two pairs."
"I show rrgh four of a kind."
"I show an inside straight and a snivelling blonde wuss watching us."
At Chaos' comment, the other three monsters swung around. "Hey, I recognize you," the Galian Beast said after a moment, belching a cloud of fire and fixing the quaking Rufus with one glowing red eye. "You're the little putz with the dog, right? ChocoMog says you ran like a Mad Oscar in mating season when they were gonna kick your ass."
"I-" Rufus steeled himself and matched Galian Beast, glare for glare. "My name is Rufus Shinra, president of Shinra Electric Co. Is this Vincent Valentine's brain?"
"Yeh," Death Gigas grunted. "We're th' demons in th' head. Whut'ya want?"
The blonde man let his tone frost over as he addressed the monsters. "I will be temporarily taking control of this mortal body for the duration of the evening. All prior residents of this particular subconscious will not be disturbed; I merely need to borrow this weird bastard's limbs for a bit. Are there any objections?"
Chaos narrowed his eyes. "Who the hell do you think you are, monkey-boy? Think you can just waltz in here and tell the Lord of the Chaotic Abyss what you're gonna do? Valentine's our flesh puppet, Shinra. Go find your own."
"Yeah, we've got a rrrg schedule and everything," Hellmasker commented. "We might be rrrrg able to squeeze you in a rrrrg week from Thursday-"
"No." Rufus retorted. "Sorry, it has to be tonight."
"What, are the mortals going to do something you don't like?" the Galian Beast asked, now picking his fangs with one recurved claw.
"No. It's merely a scheduling conflict. Now if you'd step aside-"
"Wait a minute." Chaos interrupted. Light was dawning on the flat demonic face. "I get it, I get it! You're a poltergeist! You're only here for twenty-four hours or some shit, so you're going to hijack Valentine and complete your unfinished task. Well, not on our watch, pal. If you've got a problem, if you've got something to do before you've earned your eternal rest, fine. Not here. I'm up 3000 gil."
Rufus curled his lip. "What makes you think you can use that tone with me, creature? Do you honestly believe that you can intimidate me? Stop me? Death makes us all equal. You can no more hurt me than you can that wall there."
Chaos rolled his eyes. Then he shot out one clawed hand and carved a massive chunk out of the wall as easily as if he had been kneading dough.
There was an audible gulp.
8:47 PM
Just as Cloud was socketing the Heal materia into his sword, the twitching Vincent calmed down. The dark man stopped squirming, opened his eyes, and looked up confusedly at the large group of worried faces around him.
"Did I kill anybody?"
"Not today, Vinnie," Yuffie said, before proceeding to nearly throttle the undead man with a passionate embrace. Vincent, still marginally confused, submitted willingly enough, and was sprinting for second base before Aeris ahemed loud enough to bring the pair back to reality. The Cetra's eyes were sparkling wickedly.
"Well, Vincent, how did Rufus handle it?"
Vincent quirked one eyebrow at her as he clambered to his feet, giving Yuffie a hand up as well. "You knew?"
"You think you're the only one who can hear the dead? I've been listening to him yowling all evening. I think he tried to possess me earlier today, but I was . . . um . . . taking a shower. And I had . . . " Aeris blushed bright red, fiddling with the end of her braid. "Company . . . "
Yuffie whistled. "Boy, love really does conquer all, huh?"
"That's not the half of it. He walked into my head, took one look around, and spent the next forty-five minutes wishing for a spiritual toilet to retch in."
Cloud, looking obviously relieved that nobody had been murdered (this time), broke in. "Well, it's a good thing that' settled. Anyone want another Midgar Meteor Blaster?"
"Cloud, what's in those things, anyway?"
"Trust me. You don't want to know."
9:17
Thanks to large amounts of Mako and Jenova cells permeating every inch of his body, a certain silver-haired villain was genetically incapable of getting stinking drunk. But there are many degrees of drunk other than stinking, and thanks to Tifa's rum-soaked canapes and a significant helping of Halloween candy, Sephiroth was jazzed and ready to party.
"Oh god," Tseng groaned. The Oriental man and his buxom blonde coworker had been enjoying some quality time on the couch (they were discussing hollow-tipped ammunition, you sick minds. Not all of this fic is gutter-centric!), and given that he was the only one of the group that hadn't consumed any alcohol, he'd been hoping to sneak away before the rest of them got this bad. No such luck.
The rest of the party looked up as a flourish of Latin beats swirled through the room, ceasing all conversations and drawing instant attention. Levitating several feet into the air, Sephiroth had grabbed the microphone of a certain tool of Evil and was proceeding to induce mass deja vu.
Yuffie, seizing the moment, decided to jump in. "The terror of the Cetra, y'all." She announced in a low voice, snitching Marlene's plastic pumpkin-headed flashlight and focusing it like a spotlight on the villain. Sephiroth responded with a sharklike grin, raised the microphone with a flourish, and began:
He's into pointless flashbacks
Big swords and lots of angst
Tifa groaned, visibly sweatdropping. "You've gotta be kidding . . . "
Rides 'round in bright red hatchbacks
Finds scratches in clone tanks
He'll make you pound your head into the wall in such a rage
He'll walk right into pitfalls and get trapped in Yuffie's cage
Or on Gold Saucer's stage!
"That wasn't my idea!"
"Cloud, put the lamp down . . . "
Spike-haired, rather dim, he's livin' la vida Mako
Says his past is grim, livin' la vida Mako!
Shiva, Bahamut, got a magic stock-o
At North Crater's rim, livin' la vida Mako!
"Cloud? CLOUD! I said put the lamp down, remember? That does not mean 'put the lamp down and socket the mastered Bahamut-ZERO.'"
Even over the music, the grinding of Cloud's teeth could be heard. "I'll get him, Tifa. This calls for retaliation."
"Is this going to be another night where the house gets destroyed?"
"With our mortgage? Nah. Fight fire with fire, Tif. Fire with fire."
The Holy Wars have begun again. Take cover.