Epilogue One
Tifa
Tifa drove her motorcycle forward through the remaining ranks of the Tali Hishna, Graehan behind her. He no longer clutched desperately to her, but wielded his two swords in unison, slashing out at all opponents as they rode by them. The man was in a perfect battle calm, no longer terrified of the machine or Tifa's driving.
The Battle of Fort Condor was short, barely lasting an hour. It was a massacre. While the people of Kalm and the refugees of Midgar offered little in the way of military expertise or weaponry or training, they more than made up for it with the ability to simply run down opponents using their trucks and cars. There was little fighting at all. Infantry armed with swords were simply crushed under the tires of vehicles. Conventional warfare was no longer an issue. The Tali Hishna were simply outmatched.
As the last of the Tali Hishna fell, Graehan sheathed his swords and resumed his panic at Tifa's driving, clutching frantically at her and demanding she stop at once. She gave a laugh and did so, letting the motorcycle squeal to a halt in front of the small bulk that was the Red Wings.
Hopping from the motorcycle, Tifa looked to Rude, who stood shirtless and without his sunglasses. The man was bloodied and bruised, but seemed all right. She smiled, and he stood impassively, no expression marring his face at all. She laughed again and rushed to him, flinging her arms about him. He wrapped his around her and swung her about once, lifting her off the ground, then settled her down.
"You could at least smile," she accused.
"I am smiling. Can't you tell?" he said with a perfectly straight face.
She rolled her eyes. She couldn't quite read him as well as he thought she could, and she wasn't sure if he was being honest or if he was making fun of her. Rude gave a glance to Graehan, than back to her, and Tifa knew what that meant. What is he doing here?
"His name's Graehan. He's with me," she answered. "He decided to help. More for the fight if not outright loyalty to humanity or our cause."
Rude nodded once, then extended a hand to Graehan. The Tali Hishna looked at it, frowned, shrugged, then clasped onto it, and the two briefly shook hands.
"I'd like to fight you one day, bald one," Graehan said.
Rude snorted. Tifa knew that one, too. Well, if you want to die that badly…
She hoped it was sarcastic. She said to Rude, "So, what happened while I was gone?"
"We won," Rude said.
Tifa answered, "I can see that. Anything else?"
"No."
She rolled her eyes again, hugged him once more, then said to Graehan. "Well, since he's being uncooperative, like always, what will you be doing?"
He shrugged. "I killed my own people. I betrayed the Tali Hishna for the sake of a good fight. In theory, I can't go home ever again."
"In theory?" Tifa asked.
"Well, all the fanatics here who saw me fight them are all dead. So there's no one to tell anyone else what I did. I figure I'm safe. I'll return home. My people need a leader, and I believe I'm as good a candidate as any. Unless my other fellow Triad member, Crya, is still alive."
Rude said, "She's dead."
Graehan nodded. "I had figured as much. She wanted to face you on the battlefield almost as much as I did. And since you're still here…"
Tifa interrupted, "What if someone escaped this battle? What if someone makes it back to your people and tells them that you killed your own?"
"Then I'll kill him."
"And if everyone turns against you? How will you become leader of your own people then?"
Graehan smirked and turned away. As he walked into the sunrise, he answered, "Then I guess I'll just have to take leadership by force."