Author's Note:
Reeve: I'm free! Freedom!
Reno: Yeah, about that... you owe me, Elena, and Yuffie standard Turk pay in procuring you said freedom.
Reeve: Say what?
Reno: Don't worry, it's cool. It'll just come out of your paycheck.
Reeve: But the three of you combined make more than I do!
Reno: Well then, I guess you'll just have to work overtime.
Reeve: Son of a ... ! Tyramir doesn't own the rights to Final Fantasy or any of its characters. sigh I really hate that bastard.
Chapter Thirty Eight
First Offensive
Rude wasn't sure about his command of the Red Wings right from the beginning. He had never been a leader. Always more of a follower, a backup to Tseng's diplomacy, flexing his muscles and looking intimidating, always keeping quiet. That was the way it had worked. Tseng was the voice, Reno was the brains, as surprising as that was, Rude was the muscle, and Elena was the glue that held it all together.
It was with that in mind that Rude clasped his hands behind his back a lot like the way Tseng used to, and assumed what he hoped was a friendly smile, one that he'd see on Reno's face. His sunglasses were off. He didn't want to hide his eyes from the people. They had to see them, know that he wasn't hiding, wasn't afraid.
For some reason, his amber eyes and off smile seemed to make the teenagers that made up the Red Wings even more nervous. Tifa stood off to the side, an obvious smile on her face. She was suppressing the urge to laugh, that was certain. He nearly threw up his hands in disgust right there and walked away from the task assigned to him. Instead, he glanced at the meager supplies they had. Old swords, a few spears, some knives, and the most important thing to Rude, a length of rope, which was secorely tied to a large stalactite-like rock that reached from the ceiling and connected to the floor, giving it a natural pillar appearance.
But he knew he couldn't. Just moments before he and Tifa had escaped from the White Scourge and into the safety of Fort Condor. But now that safety was threatened, the army of albinos preparing for a charge against the walls of the fort. They had to stand and fight, and the only way to do that was to quickly train a pack of teenagers in the art of warfare.
"I don't have time to train you," he said. "You've seen battle before, you'll see it again. All I can do right now is tell you to hold the line, and kill any of the Scourge that you can. Keep your distance, and use the spears where you can to push them away. Swords are for the up close stuff."
The children seemed to understand, and all murmured their understanding and armed themselves. Tifa walked up to Rude and asked, "Do you think they're ready?"
"No," he said simply, and went to retrieve the largest rock he could find that was carriable. There was a large supply of rubble on hand from the caving in of the entrances that had been brought up to be used as primitive weaponry. Rude never pictured the day when he'd have to use big rocks as weaponry. He'd always been offered the latest and greatest toys Shinra could offer in the past, but in the end, he'd always relied on his own fists and a standard issue Turk pistol, which was neatly tucked away in a breast holster. Only sixteen shots in it, plus a spare clip. He'd have to make those count. At best, he'd kill thirty two enemies.
Picking up the biggest rock he could find, one the size of his torso that had probably taken two men to carry, Rude tensed himself and heaved the rock up and carried it to the hole in the cave wall that served as a window. He placed it down, and looked outside, to see hundreds - no, thousands - of albino soldiers milling about the base of the mountain that Fort Condor sat upon. He squinted, and took in the sight of the enemy, looking for a leader. And there, down below, he saw three figures, larger than the other albinos. The common soldiers gave them a wide berth, moving aside as they approached the base of the mountain.
Rude pointed at them, and gave a boy beside him, who looked roughly seventeen and appeared to be the leader of the Red Wings, a questioning look.
"Those are the Triad," the boy said. "Takkin figures they lead the White Scourge. They usually come to the other side of the mountain, the side the mercenaries and older people are guarding, because that one's easier to take. Not as steep."
Tifa, who had been listening, moved in close and looked out the window. "The Triad? Did you give them that name?"
He shook his head. "They introduce themselves every night, and ask for our surrender. They're all really good fighters. They always make it to the top of the mountain, all three of them, kill a few people, and then when their underlings die, they retreat. No one's even managed to wound them. Some people are starting to whisper that they're immortal."
Rude frowned, and looked down at the three, taking them in. Two men, one female. The lead male was average height, average build, apparently unremarkable save for his dead white skin and hair. The woman was short like the rest of the White Scourge, and thin, but the way she moved suggested a dancer, an amazing grace to her body that was pronounced with every step. The man that trailed behind them was massive, standing almost seven feet tall, and covered in muscle.
Tifa had moved away from him and was talking to some of the younger Red Wings. He absently listened as he planned. "It's okay to be afraid... I know you've never had to really fight, and-"
"The Triad are coming up this side tonight! They'll kill us all for sure!" one boy yelled, having seen the three at the bottom.
"No, they won't," Tifa said. "They might be good warriors, but I'm better."
"But you're just a girl! And you've got no weapons!"
Tifa laughed, and Rude smiled and turned from the sight of the enemy to look at the woman who had so captured his heart. The woman dropped into a crouched fighting stance, and made a few mock punches, followed by a couple low kicks.
"I can fight," she said. "Better than any man here. I've even gone against the legendary Sephiroth, and I'm still alive."
That earned a few gasps. Sephiroth would forever be remembered as both a hero and a villain, but always as a warrior incarnate. To say that you'd fought him and were still alive put you on a level just below him, sitting alongside legendary fighters like Lord Godo, or Dio.
A voice bellowed, echoing along the mountainside, and into the cavern that the Red Wings stood, breaking Tifa's little conference and inspiring terror in the children.
"We are the Triad! We are the three clawed talons of the Tali Hishna! We are the strength of its mighty hand! Ever have we seen battle, and never have we lost! Behold us, and tremble!" the male voice yelled. "We come for your fortress once more, as we have the past five nights! We will take it tonight, and make it ours! Surrender or perish!"
Rude looked to the teenagers, who were obviously terrified, and then out the window, to see the lead male, two swords drawn and held above his head, staring defiantly up into the face of Fort Condor.
Rude decided then and there that he had to set an example, an act of defiance and bravery to bolster his troops. He had no time to train them today, but tomorrow was another day. For now, he just needed to fire them up. Taking up a rock the size of his fist, the Turk looked out the window and calmly yelled out, "Can you die?"
The leader looked up at him, obviously confused by the question. The large male pushed him aside and yelled in response, "We are the Triad! Nothing can kill us! Not the magics of Cetra or the steel of men!"
That was all Rude needed. A simple response to his question. Squinting against the darkness, he took careful aim and threw his fist-sized rock as hard as he could. The projectile sped through the air and connected solidly with its target, the giant's throat, crushing his larynx. The albino clutched at its neck, gasping for air, but found it could not breathe. With a thunderous crash, the giant fell face forward and into the ground.
Silence.
Nothing moved, nothing made a sound, save the choking and gasping member of the Triad.
And then a voice issued, as Tifa mockingly yelled, "What do you know? Immortals can die!"
A vast groan swept through the army of the White Scourge as their spirits collectively broke, seeing one of their three champions fall under nothing greater than a fist-sized rock. And the sound that issued from Fort Condor disheartened them even more.
From the mouths of every single member of the Red Wings came the sound of laughter and cheers.
The resulting attack that came forth in retaliation of their fallen was half-hearted at best, the fanatical edge of the White Scourge lost as they attempted to scale the mountainside. The albinos scaled the cliff side easily, climbing up it as if they were part spider, moving almost as quickly moving straight up as they would walking forward. Rude stared for a moment, not entirely believing the swift climb we was seeing. Shaking himself out of it, the Turk leaned over and picked up the large rock he had put aside earlier. He picked it up, and then with all his strength, extended both his arms fully above his head. Sweat beaded down his forehead from the effort, but he clamped his jaw and waited. All about, members of the Red Wings glanced from the incoming enemy and looked to their new leader, awe covering their faces.
"Pay attention!" he snapped, and they all stopped looking and readied their spears against the incoming enemy.
When the first of the White Scourge nearly made it to the top, Rude threw his small boulder down as hard as he could, crushing the soldier. The man fell with the boulder, and the two projectiles separated, knocking several of the White Scourge from the cliff face as they fell.
The fight didn't last long. The enemy's will wasn't behind the attack. They were afraid. The unkillable had been killed, and the remaining two members of the Triad hadn't followed. Their morale was an utter ruin. Falling before spears and rocks and swords, the White Scourge were beaten back.
Dozens of their number were slain before an order for retreat sounded in the form of a horn blow. Those still on the cliff side climbed down, while those at the top fought on - or tried to - and were merely pushed off the edge with long spears.
"Good job, Red Wings!" Tifa said. "We won a great victory today!"
"We're not done yet," Rude responded.
"What-?" she started to ask, but she saw Rude grabbing the rope he had tied to the salagmite earlier, uncoiling it. "Are you...? Rude, don't you dare!"
He ignored her, realizing what he had to do. The enemy's spirit was wounded, but not broken. Running for the window, Rude leaped out, rope tied about his hands.
For a moment, all there was between him and the ground was open air. The Turk swung through the night air, and jolted as the rope's length played out, coming to a sudden stop little more than twenty feet from the ground.
Spears were cast at him from albinos on the ground, and Rude dropped from the rope, landing solidly on the ground. Instantly four albinos were on him, swinging weapons, trying to kill the murderer of one of their leaders.
Ducking and weaving, Rude danced about their weapons, avoiding hits. But he couldn't find an opening to counter attack, not without taking a hit. So he kept dodging, content to stay on the defensive until he could find a way to hit an opponent.
Abruptly, one of his attackers fell, struck down by someone. Rude cast a glance over and saw Tifa, who had probably slid down the rope after him. He frowned, but realized he did need the help. Between the two of them, the White Scourge fell quickly.
"What's this about?" Tifa asked.
"Winning the day," he answered. "We have to break them as much as possible. Kill who we can."
She looked a little shocked at that, and seemed to think about it for a moment, and then nodded. "Whoever we kill now won't be able to come after us later."
He nodded, and then motioning for her to follow, sprinted after the fleeing Scourge.
The work they did was brutal and efficient. They brought down whoever they could, any way they could. A rock thrown from behind, Rude's Grand Spark, small Materia attacks by Tifa. Lightning, Fire and Ice seemed not to be working, but Earth and Summon spells still did. Between the two of them, they killed just as many albinos as did the Red Wings had during the small battle. When there were no more fleeing enemies left, they began to turn back towards Fort Condor, when they heard a horn blow. Rude turned back to see the two remaining members of the Triad roughly fifty feet away. The woman stood unarmed, and the man had his two swords drawn, his arms crossed in front of him.
The woman bowed, and the man raised his swords in salute, a gesture of respect.
Rude thought about his response, and the thought that came to him was an odd one, but one he fully embraced.
What would Reno do in my situation?
And with that, Rude flipped both of them the bird and walked back to Fort Condor.
Author's Note:
I hated writing the beginning of that chapter. I was stuck on it for so long. I didn't get motivation to go on until I introduced the Triad, in which case, I just blazed ahead. And no, the Triad are not the Yenta Pree. The Tali Hishna just like the number three.