About two weeks had passed since I walked away from Barret and his flunkies, and I had gotten nowhere.

I mean, where do ya start fighting the ShinRa? I sure as hell didn't know. So I was just hang'n in one of the many hole-in-the-wall bars that filled the slums of Midgar. I told myself I was look'n for info, but I was just look'n for trouble.

Barret had dragged me kick'n and scream'n down memory lane and I hadn't quite hobbled my way back to sanity street just yet. I was look'n for blood.

I'd hoped some tough guy would be shoot'n his mouth off, or some badass would be hassle'n someone. A good fight would usually clear my head, whether it was with guns or fists.

Well, as I usually do, I found trouble, or rather it found me...

Chapter 4: For My Own Reasons

(Midgar, One week before the destruction of Reactor No. 1)

Barret scanned 'The Rusty Hammer', his eyes narrowing as he peered through the thick fog of cigarette smoke that filled the small bar. A moldy jukebox assaulted his ears with stale music as he shoved his way through the questionable crowd.

There he is, Barret thought, spotting a man in ragged clothing relaxing in a booth in the corner.

The man's face carried the scars of past battles and his left eye socket held something that was definitely not a natural eye. He lounged absently in his bench seat, smoking a cigarette as if he hadn't another care in the world. As far as Barret could tell, the man hadn't spotted him yet, which made his approach easier. He wasn't looking to cause a fuss.

He's not gonna be happy to see me, Barret assured himself as he stepped closer to his old friend. He's lucky I aint here to kill him. I could…

"Hello Barret," Sam said, interrupting Barret's thought. "It's a small goddamn world, huh?"

With that comment, Sam lifted his coat, revealing the revolver in his other hand. The hammer on the weapon was pulled back and the barrel was lined perfectly with Barret's head. Sam had apparently known he was there the whole time.

Barret was somewhat impressed by Sam, having assumed he was just a reckless idiot. In response to Sam's greeting, Barret raised his gun arm and tapped it with his index finger, as if to remind Sam that he was armed as well.

Sam simply nodded, slowly releasing the hammer on his revolver sliding it into his holster. Seemingly calm, Sam raised his arm and motioned to the seat across from him. Barret, wary of his old friend, walked over and sat down in the dirty booth, his large body barely fitting between the seat and the table.

"You look'n to finish what ya started in Sector 7?" Sam asked, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

"Funny," Barret replied. "I was just about to ask ya the same thing."

"Funny?" Sam shot back at him in a serious voice. "I wasn't joking."

"You might wanna check your tone tough guy," Barret growled, slamming his gun arm down on the table. "Jus' cause I aint kill'n you right now, don't mean we are friends. And it don't mean I believe ya' didn't kill my old man."

"If that's where this little discussion is head'n," Sam snapped, his tone hadn't changed. "Maybe we should take it outside."

"Nothin I'd like more," Barret coldly replied. "But that aint why I came here."

Sam seemed to be losing his patience, "Well, why did ya…"

"Dammit Sam," Barret interrupted. "I came here to ask you what happened back in Corel."

Sam was immediately affected by Barret's mention of the hometown. His one-eyed gaze seemed to cut into Barret like a razor-blade, he could feel his old friend's anger. They were silent for a long moment and, just as Barret was sure they were going to draw weapons, Sam calmly turned his head and took a long drag from his cigarette.

"Your dad was killed," Sam said, his tone was ice cold. "My condolences."

"You asshole," Barret snapped. "I aint never doubted that you killed my old man..."

Barret paused for a moment, Sam only stared back at him.

"...'til a couple weeks ago, when we last talked." Barret said. "I s'pose I've got no reason to trust your word. All I'm say'n is that now I got doubt and I don't want it. I want to know, do I listen to your story, or do I drag your dead body outta here?"

Seemingly unthreatened, Sam crushed his cigarette between his rough fingers and dropped the crumpled butt on the table. He then reached up, removed his hat and laid it on the table in front of him. The dim lighting, which had been blocked by the brim of Sam's hat, illuminated his face, reminding Barret of the man he had become. The scars on his face cast small shadows on his features and his red eye seemed to glow as light reflected from its smooth surface.

"My father..." Sam said, pausing at the mention of Tex. "...My father sent me to your house to get a pick that morning. When I got there, Charlie was already dead. Good 'ol Jake came in and saw me hold'n a bloody pick axe. I believe you know the rest."

Barret was unaffected by Sam's words, unsure whether or not he should believe them. His story seemed possible, but it was far from likely. The only reason Barret didn't shoot him on the spot was because he knew that ShinRa would have won in Sector 7 if Sam hadn't escaped and helped.

"Seems to me that the Sam Lennox I knew would'a been able to make up a better story than that," Barret stated, staring his old friend in the face.

"Maybe..." Sam replied, sliding out of the seat and standing up as he spoke. "He might have been able to. But he died that day too. I'm Hades now."

With that comment, picked up his hat, turned around, and began walking out of the small bar. Barret, not knowing how to respond, stood up and followed suit, stepping out of the smoke-filled room into the humid slum air. Sam stood a couple meters away in the dirt path staring absently at a small town in the Sector 3 slums. Barret walked over to stand beside him. They both watched the residents living their lives as they stood in complete silence. Standing next to the hired killer, Barret thought about his old friend Sam.

He's right, Barret realized, looking out the corner of his eye at the ex-prisoner. He aint the same person he was back then. Not even close.

After a short time, Sam cocked his head slightly toward Barret and spoke.

"Where's Dyne?" he asked. "He aint in your little gang. I figured you two was a duo for life, wha'd he join the ShinRa or somethin."

Sam chuckled lightly at his own comment, continuing to look over the poor town.

"...He's gone," Barret said, his voice deep with regret. "He was shot down in Corel...by the ShinRa. But, I think he may still be..."

"Too bad," Sam interrupted, unaffected by the revelation. "He probably would'a been talkin you outta this lifestyle, ya know. He was always the level-headed one."

"Yeah," Barret replied. "Dyne wasn't as crazy as us. I don't think he could handle some of the wrongs we've done. But, I'm try'n to pay it back every day with Marlene. Maybe, jus' maybe, if I can raise her right, I'll be able to forgive myself for what I done."

Sam only nodded in response, as if he understood what Barret meant.

"Yo Sam," Barret said suddenly, Sam turned to face him as he spoke. "Why'd you help us back there?"

"Didn't," Sam said seriously, his tone emotionless. "I did what I do. I killed some folks for my own reasons."

"You know what I meant," Barret shot back at him. "Why'd you help Marlene?"

"Price wasn't on her head," Sam stated, his voice still cold. "I jus' kill'd the group that I hated the most. Lucky for you, it was the ShinRa."

"How do you sleep at night?" Barret barked, becoming quickly angry at Sam.

"Same way yo' dad does," Sam said, squaring his shoulders with Barret's. "Very peacefully."

Barret, not being able to stand another word from the man, threw his huge left fist at his face. Apparently expecting such a response, Sam ducked under the colossal swing and then nailed Barret in the chin with a strong uppercut. Swiftly following up, Sam threw all his weight into a right hook that plowed into Barret's cheek. Barret stumbled backwards a few steps as Sam casually removed his hat and tossed it aside.

"I been want'n to do that for twenty years," Sam hissed, raising his hands into fighting position.

"Bring it, you one-eyed bastard," Barret replied angrily as he turned his head to the side and spat some blood.

Barret was a big guy, but Sam wasn't small. He stood about six feet, two hundred and fifty pounds of pure muscle, and a he was a professional killer.

This aint gonna be easy, Barret admitted.

As Barret finished his thought, his old friend lunged toward him, throwing punches with lightening speed. He didn't even have a chance to put up a defense before Sam was slamming his fists into his face. After three powerful punches violently jarred his skull, he raised his huge gun-arm in front of his face and threw his elbow into Sam's head.

SMACK

Sam staggered backwards, trying to maintain his balance. He had been hit hard. After a moment, he shook it off and met Barret's intense gaze.

Barret was just about to engage him again when he noticed the stream of red that slid down Sam's left cheek. His red eye was shedding tears of blood. Apparently Barret had hit him harder than he thought.

"You really are a freak," Barret gloated.

Sam reached up and wiped his hand over his rough cheek. He then looked down at the dark liquid on his hand. When he raised his head, his face was blazing with anger as blood rippled down his face and dripped to the dirt.

Oh damn, Barret thought, somewhat regretful of his comment. Now I'm gonna have to kill him.

Sam was raising his hands to attack when...

BANG

...blood spewed from his chest. Barret swung his head around, spotting the shooter who stood a few meters behind him. He turned back to Sam, noticing that thick curls of blood now poured from Sam's chest, but he was still standing. The bullet must have missed his heart only by inches.

"DON'T MOVE!" a male voice screamed.

Hit men, Barret thought, raising his hands slowly in response. No reason I should resist. The price aint on my head.

Barret heard the footsteps of several men closing in on their position. Before the killers had reached him, their target crumpled to the ground. Barret just observed, not knowing how well armed they were or even how many of them lurked behind him.

A rugged man dressed in dirty brown clothing stepped into Barret's view, holding a silver semi-automatic pistol which he held ready to fire at any sign of motion from either of the two men. He carefully crept toward Sam's motionless body, keeping his eyes trained warily on Barret. As he approached his mark, he aimed his gun at the back of Sam's head.

Barret heard another man approach from behind him as he waited to hear the gunshot that would end Sam's miserable life. Barret regretted that his old friend was about to meet such a merciful end, he deserved much worse. Suddenly Sam lunged from the dirt, shoving his long combat knife through the bottom of the assassin's jaw and into his brain before he had a chance to squeeze the trigger.

A split second later, Barret had pivoted to his right and slammed his heavy gun-arm into the face of the man who stood behind him. The solid steel machine gun flattened the assassin's face as if it were made of dough.

Spinning to face Sam, Barret saw him draw and aim his revolver with insane speed. Barret stared down the barrel of the black gun when...

BANG

...the bullet zipped past his head, missing his left ear by centimeters. Barret turned to see a third hit man thud to the ground, killed instantly by the bullet that entered his forehead.

When Barret looked back at Sam, he looked like a walking corpse. Dried blood covered the left side of his face, branching out in erratic patterns from his monstrous left eye. The white shirt that covered his chest was painted red by a river of blood that still pumped from the hole in his chest.

Sam, on the verge of collapsing, fumbled his shaky hand into his pocket and removed a small green orb. As he grasped it as tightly as he could, a sparkling emerald light emerged, illuminating the air around him. The flow of blood was staunched, but the wound was not entirely mended. It would take time and rest to fully repair the damage he had suffered. Barret recognized his chance to end it.

He's killed a lot, Barret assured himself. And he'll kill more, maybe innocents next time. I should just...

Sam still held his revolver but didn't seem to have to strength to lift it. Slipping the materia back into his coat pocket, he turned and began to stagger down the path, his back turned to Barret.

Now's my chance, Barret thought. If not for the world's sake, then for his. To spare him the life that he is leading.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't bring himself to shoot an old friend in the back, no matter what he had become.

"Hey Sam," he yelled to the half dead man.

Sam cocked his head to the right and weakly replied, "...Yeah?"

"We been hurt'n for some help lately," Barret admitted, struggling with his attempt at sincerity. "And we're plan'n a big hit on the ShinRa. Really gonna set 'em back this time."

"Are you ask'n for my help," Sam mumbled.

"I'm offer'n you a job," Barret said. "You are good at what you do. I'm jus' ask'n you to do what you do for a good cause. Plus, you said somethin' bout hate'n the ShinRa."

"So what 'scuse do you put with kill'n these days," Sam asked. "It's ta' save the planet?"

"ShinRa is kill'n the planet," Barret barked. "But it aint jus' what they do'n...it's what they did."

At that comment, Sam turned around, again displaying his ghastly appearance. He had been screwed over by the ShinRa and was likely warming up to the idea of joining the cause. After a moment, Barret spoke again.

"They deserve the worst," Barret stated angrily. "They deserve the wrath of guys like us."

"I hope you got money," Sam said, allowing a grin to creep onto his face. "Cause I don't work cheap."

(Present)

So I joined up with AVALANCHE. I didn't do it for Barret, or for the shitty planet. I did it cause I hate the ShinRa. They had put that hit on my head.

Not only had those bastards double-crossed me, they weren't going to let me just walk away. Not by a long shot. What else could you expect when you're on the ShinRa corps bad side?

Well I sure as hell wasn't gonna go down without at least injuring them first. Barret had offer'd me a chance. A chance to hurt the ShinRa or die try'n.

And I took it.