Chapter 8: Destination Locked

Sephiroth grasped the wall, fingers digging into the flat surface searching for a possible handhold. He pulled himself up, sighting the edge several feet away. The sight of it gave him a rush of energy. He hoisted himself higher, boots scraping against the steep rock face.

Almost there… The stone below him almost gave way. As he looked down, he saw the gaping darkness below. It would be a long way down if he loses his grip…… He gritted his teeth and urged himself to move up. Finally his hands touched horizontal surface, and he heaved his exhausted body on it.

His injured shoulder was throbbing uncontrollably as he lay there, heart pounding. He knew this shoulder needed treatment, or soon it will be infected. He thought irritably that this wouldn't happen if Tybalt had Restore materia.

'Reapers aren't allowed to carry materia.'

Leave me to my own thoughts, please. Is there no privacy inside my mind anymore?

Frankly, no. Tybalt affirmed.

Sephiroth sighed. Putting his the unwounded arm behind his head. How old are you exactly, Tybalt?

'You need not to know.'

You seem older than fifteen.

'Why are pursuing such trivial matters?' Sephiroth imagined Tybalt looking annoyed.

Sephiroth mentally shrugged. Curiosity.

'Curiosity kills the cat, as you humans say.'

Curiosity is needed to learn. Besides, I was dead once already and now half dying from exhaustion and injury. Sephiroth winced slightly as he shifted position of the said shoulder. He and Tybalt became quiet.

After moments of silence, Tybalt spoke. 'I was made about 5 millennia ago.' Sephiroth raised an eyebrow. I see.

Sephiroth sat up. He ran his fingers through his hair. Okay, I have to get going. Any hints where I must be headed? He wondered where the Masamune was, too.

'I cannot tell.'

The silver-haired man sighed. I guess I was counting on you too much.

As Tybalt once again disappeared, Sephiroth climbed to his feet. He surveyed the terrain that led upwards. It will probably take half an hour to reach the top, and about three hours to the nearest town. He contemplated the consequences of getting attacked by passing monsters, without materia, weapon, nor armor. He shook his head. This was a headache. He marched towards the passageway to the exit. He decided his target: Nibelheim.

Midgar

It was late in the morning, and the sky was still stormy and heavy rain continued. Although it was lighter than yesterday's downpour, it was still bad. Vincent quietly watched the shower of water as his companions noisily (as opposed as he,) ate late-morning breakfast. With his trained hearing, he could hear snatches of the conversation.

"So where're we goin' next?" Cid asked.

"We need to find what's causing this." Cait Sith a.k.a. Reeve answered.

"And how, exactly, are we going to find out that? Pray to the Planet? Pfft." Cid blew a smoke ring.

Reeve ignored this.

Vincent spoke. "We need to delve deeper into the characteristics of Mako. Its reactions to different substances." He turned to face the party. "I believe there are reports and files about Mako together with the JENOVA files of Professor Gast."

Cloud straightened in his chair. "I guess that's the only lead we have for now."

Red XIII stood up on his feet. "To Nibelheim?"

Cloud nodded.

"'Tis fate that flings the dice, and as she flings; Of kings makes peasants, and of peasants kings." -John Dryen (1631-1700) Jupiter Cannot Alter the Decrees of Fate

AN: Weeeee! Cliffhanger! Don't worry, hopefully I'll update soon. If I don't then feel free to throttle me .