Soda

by Rin and Court

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Rin: And here's the second chapter.... where interesting stuff happens. D

Court: I'm glad everybody likes this so far...

Rin: And I'm glad everybody fell for my little... um... nevermind, don't listen to me. ¬_¬

Court: Er. Anyway. This is gonna get funny from now on but there's still gonna be some ANGGGSTTTT randomly and tons of ANNGGSTTT at the end.

Rin: Oh, oh, oh-----!!! And me and Court stayed up last night and racked our brains like HELL for a sequel, and we finally came up with some REAL good stuff, so we have a whole sequel lined up after this. D However.... You can read this fic without reading the sequel and it'll still be a good story---it's just that the sequel is more on a grander scale and whatnot. And PAY ATTENTION because now that me and Court have figured out most of the stuff we want in the sequel, we're gonna be injecting a buncha foreshadowing, and most of it extremely subtle.....

Court: Like.... yeah..... the sequel's good.... so keep reading.... and.... yeah..... o_o

Rin: XD

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Nothing but a killer, so cold that blood upon the face freezes with each smile...

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2: Camels

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Maybe she wasn't going to be back for a few days. Elmyra hadn't exactly specified, but it wasn't as if Zack had given her the chance. He'd just wait it out for a bit more -- and then if she didn't show up... well, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

After a while he grew tired of standing, so, with back pressed against the wall, he slid down until he was in a sitting position. And shortly after that did it being to rain.

Even if he was somewhat covered by the awning of her house, in a matter of moments he was thoroughly soaked. He had done this before, what felt like ages ago. Things had been much different back then. How, exactly, he couldn't bring himself to start exploring.

... she wasn't coming.

Bringing himself to his feet, he gave his head a good shake to try and rid some of the water from those black spikes. It didn't work too well, but that was as good as it was going to get.

Once again at a loss for what to do, he just wandered the wet, slick streets and pathways of the slums. After a bit of absent-minded venturing, he found he was near to a supermarket in one of the sectors.

I could do with a smoke... He headed inside, scouring the store for cigarettes. Once he found where they were located, he snatched a pack of his favorite brand and then headed for the checkout lane. There was a line. Not very long, just two people. One, a blonde man a bit shorter than him, and in front of him, a woman who was almost done with her purchase.

He practically froze in place upon better sight of the woman. She was... stunning. She was very elegant looking, with long brown hair that fell down her slender back. She had a half-smile on her face that lighted up her well-toned features. Her skin looked soft, almost innocent. And she was so composed... she seemed just like the type of person that could fix all of his problems for him, wash all the pain away... comfort him, help him. Just the sight of her was breathtaking, and he actually found himself at a loss for oxygen.

Zack was in no mood for patience as he absent-mindedly brushed right by the man as if he was drawn towards this woman, not saying a word, and in all truthness of the matter, cutting the person.He has more stuff than I do, anyhow. Maybe the woman could cheer him up or something.... He didn't give half a damn about anything else at that point.

The man did, though.

A soft voice, quietly dangerous, coming from directly behind him. "What are you doing?"

He gave a glance over his shoulder at the speaker, gaze holding just a strong indifference. "Eh?"

"I said..." Zack could see the man's face now -- hard eyes, set jaw, rather annoyed expression. "What the hell are you doing...?"

He really wasn't in the mood for this. Upon looking back in front of him, he saw that the woman had finished paying and had already left the store. Out of his life forever, it seemed. Eyebrow twitching ever so slightly, he snapped, "Are you blind? What does it look like I'm doing?"

"It looks like you're cutting in line, you fucktard," he man responded calmly enough, a bit of a forced grin on his face as he slammed some sort of package on the checkout counter without taking his eyes off of the SOLDIER. "So get out of my fucking way."

The woman at the checkout counter looked rather flustered, but Zack paid her no mind. Setting his pack of cigarettes on the counter as well, he pushed the package belonging to the man off the counter, onto the floor. "... you wanna start something?" he growled, unreal eyes glowing.

The man's blue eyes flashed a tinge of aqua in return as he lowered his chin intimidatingly and his dangerous, rather foolhardy grin grew in size. "... Do you...?"

Zack smirked deviously. He was almost always up for a good fight, especially with such a big jerk. "Let's take this outside, then, shall we?"

"Heh, heh..." The man jerked his foot to the side, kicking the package that had "fallen" on the ground to his opposite knee, and then hitting it with his knee up in midair, where he snatched it with a hand. He pocketed whatever it was in his cargo pants, outstretched his arms, locked his fingers together, and then cracked his knuckles. "What you really need to ask yourself is..." His eyes narrowed almost comically. "Do you feel lucky... punk?"

Zack blinked, canting his head to the side quizzically. Crap... look what I've gotten myself into... in a fight when I feel like this? No turning down now. He maintained that cocky front, and noticing the man's unruly hair, returned with, "Oh, I feel very lucky, Chocobutt."

The cashier suddenly interjected. "E-excuse me, you still need to pay fo--"

"SHUT UP, WOMAN!" the man suddenly yelled, slamming a closed fist down on the counter and causing and considerable number of eyes to turn towards that one checkout line as the cashier gave a quiet "eep" and became silent. The man turned back towards Zack with that calm, dangerous look replastered on his face.

"...Porcupine Head."

"Keh. Never heard that one before." He laughed softly, dropping his money on the counter and grabbing his pack of cigarettes which he slipped into his pocket. "Well...?"

"Well..." It seemed as if the man was going to give a swift retort, until his eyes went blank and he pointed at something over Zack's shoulder.

"Hey, look! It's a camel!"

It was a great method to use, simply because Zack had absolutely no idea what a camel was and turned to look in the pointed direction out of pure curiosity. "Hmm..?"

POW.

A fist suddenly slammed into the susceptible side of Zack's face, sending him flying into the shelf that he had grabbed his cigarettes from, and then causing both him and the cigarettes to tumble to the floor, the packets gathering in a heap around them.

"Hah-hah..." The man smirked, wiping his hands off on each other as he carelessly, cockily closed his eyes. "That oughta teach you--"

Too bad he'd assumed it was a one-punch fight.

The stranger would soon feel a nice foot being rammed upwards into his stomach, and Zack, hoping that would buy him some time, threw some stray packets of cigarettes off of himself and then jumped to his feet. "You thought it'd be that easy?" He figured he'd play dirty, too, and while his opponent was still on the ground, "Porcupine Head" administered a few kicks to his side.

But that only lasted until the man unexpectedly reached out with both of his hands, clasped one of Zack's ankles in midkick, and wrenched it with a loud grunt as he jerked his body up, sending Zack to the ground again as he rolled over, putting his fists to Zack's shoulders and pinning him down to the linoleum of the supermarket.

He leaned in close to Zack's face, his eyes as icy as the arctic and his tone of voice low and furious as he spoke through clenched teeth.

"DON'T mess with me, kid."

Then, assuming the fight was finished, he stood to his feet and shoved his hands into his pockets almost self-consciously. People were staring in his direction now in disbelief - all five people who had bothered to come to such a crummy store in the only sector whose plate hadn't been put up yet -- and thus, the only sector in which it was raining... and the only sector they had put up little apartments and temporary housing in...

He sighed as the sliding doors opened for him and he walked outside, the rain pouring on his blonde hair and plastering it down to his head, except for the annoying little tuft from which he had been dubbed "Chocobutt", which only drooped somewhat with the extra weight of the water.

"Damn..." he muttered to himself, rubbing at his tender side. "That's gonna leave a mark..."

"So is this." WHAM. A fist right to the jaw -- the spiked younger man had an arrogant grin plastered on his face, those weird-ass eyes lighted with the adrenaline of the fight as miniscule raindrops slid down his skin.

The man reeled backwards, his arms clenched at his sides as he regained his balance and growled, feeling a trickle of blood coming out of the side of his mouth.

"You asked for it...!" he yelled, charging towards the kid with his hands balled together in a double-fist that he rammed into the guy's stomach. Zack's teeth were gritted as he endured the brunt of the blow. He dug his feet into the dirt path they were now brawling on, refusing to allow himself to crash to the ground from the onslaught. "Heh... not that bad," he grimaced. It was apparent he was weakening, though... had he been hurt from the start?

"So..." The man was also wincing somewhat from his sore parts. "You gonna quit?"

"I never quit." Taking a deep breath and trying to forget his injuries for a few moments, midnight-hair rushed at the complete stranger, totally ignoring the fact that a crowd was forming around them.

"...Heh." The man stood up straight with obvious pain. "Guess you're gonna have to learn to go down the Highwind way!"

Rush. Blur of flesh and clothing. A sharp pain in the chest.

"High...wind...?" he had a rueful smile on his face as his legs gave in and he fell to his knees. "God... damn... Mako..." His body went limp and he slumped forward, falling straight on his face into the dirt; yeah, he was out for the count.

Down...

Down...

.....Down...

*~*

Thump. Thump. Thump. The pounding of his head. Loud ­ splitting it in two ­ or it felt like it. He wrenched his eyes open ­ in a dimly-lit room with a distinct smell; something like a mix of herbs and sweets. People's houses always seemed to smell a different way. "God... where am I?" Still weakened, he wasn't even going to risk trying to sit up.

He heard some kind of muffled, high-pitched whine ­ from the next room, probably ­ and then a whistle too, and soft footsteps upon the ground, like whoever was walking around was wearing socks, and then a softly clinking chain from somewhere outside. There was a click and then the whistling stopped, causing the sound of low tenor humming to become more distinct. He listened for a few moments. The tune was somewhat familiar...

He decided to make an effort to get up, but a pain shooting from his abdomen up caused him to altogether loosen and fall back onto the fluffy, warm bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"Look what's happened to the 'big bad SOLDIER'. Roughed up by the local jerk." His headache seemed to worsen, and he closed his eyes with a false hope that it would help ­ that humming sound was getting closer.

Then there was a short knock at the door and the sound of a gruff, somewhat disgruntled voice. "You awake yet?"

Zack lifted his hand to his temples, massaging them as he responded. "If you can call this awake..."

"What the hell, talking's good enough," the voice responded and then the creaky hinge of a door was heard as a crack of light that was blinding compared to the darkness of the room became visible. Whoever it was on the other side of the door paused, a silhouette in the rays from the hallway. "Uh..." His voice was clearer now, as was the panting of some kind of animal behind him.

Zack was pretty sure it was the jerk, or "Highwind", as he had called himself, but he wasn't going to assume just yet. Either way, he was confused that the man was being so wary. "...what's wrong?"

"Nothing, just afraid you're gonna try to beat me up or something... after that..." The voice turned cocky again. "But I guess you got too hard a whippin', huh?" The "jerk" fully opened the door, revealing a grinning face.

A few moments ago Zack had confirmed that he would not be getting up for a while yet, but, forgetting any trace of that thought, he sat up, setting his feet on the floor and then pushing himself up. Ignoring how shaky and weak he felt, he paced over to "Highwind", standing face to face and then giving him a sober look.

Then he kicked him in the shin.

The man's face seemed to pale as Zack then walked past him, and the man also began to hop on one foot, muttering out low curses and obviously controlling his anger as he glared at Zack's backside. He was heading for the kitchen, it seemed. Making himself right at home, wasn't he...?

"You should at least be grateful I didn't leave you out there in the parking lot..." He grumbled. He hoped Bronco would bite the punk. Or at least scare him. Or something.

Zack really didn't seem to hear him or even pay attention to his curses and grumbling after that kick. "So, you got any grub..?" he asked as he pulled his hand forward to grasp the refrigerator's handle and wrench the door open. He heard the clink of bottles as he opened it, leaning in to scan the contents of the fridge. "Hmm..." He heard a whining coming from his right side, and with a blink, looked over to see a black Labrador standing there, looking rather upset for being ignored. "Aww.. you're a cute little doggy, aren't ya?" He gave the dog a goofy grin. ".. hey, Coke!" Yanking the soda from its place in the fridge, he then shut the door of it and then opened the can, raising it to his mouth and taking a few gulps. "Ahh, that's the good stuff..."

"........." The man eyed Zack warily, settling himself down at the small rectangular table in the center of the small room, gingerly trying to not put any weight on his injured leg. He managed in doing so well enough, and stared at the punk while resting his arms on the table.

"That stuff tastes like shit," he said rather boldly. "The only reason I have it is to clean the crapper. And it works, too." Seeing how the lab seemed disgruntled about the lack of attention, he managed to put on a small smile, patting one of his knees and causing the dog to come trotting to its owner, whereupon it melted to the ground belly-up. The man scratched its neck and then its stomach somewhat and then turned back towards the punk with a frown. "Anyway----hey, did you hear me?"

Glug glug glug. He seemed to be in another world as he gulped down the soda, seeming to zone everything out as he basked in the blissful taste of the beverage he hadn't had for so long.

Yeah, I couldn't have soda when... He pushed that thought away fast enough, then turned to look at the stranger. "Hmm...? What now?" He walked over to the table and sat down across for him, letting out a sigh."Geez, still tired..."

Zack looked down at the can, which was sweating with condensation. "So, lemme guess..." He leaned back in the chair, pulling his feet up and resting them on the table while he pulled his arms behind his head. ".. everyone thought you were a cold-hearted prick when you tried to just leave me there, so you were forced to bring me back to your place?" He winked at the other man devilishly.

".........Yes........actually......." The man blinked a moment before he caught himself and put the scowl back on his face. Zack was rather amused that he had hit it right on the dot; the man's expression had been priceless for that split second. ".....Anyway. The store owner said we both had to pay him back for the cigarettes you decided to go and ruin----"

Zack put on a frown as he interjected. "Wait... I'm not the only one that screwed up the cigarettes! You're the one that punched me!" He huffed, bringing his arms forward to cross them over his chest.

"----so," Highwind closed his eyes, ignoring the punk pointedly. "I figured I'd offer some of my kind hospitality before you woke up." He crossed his arms and gave out a sigh. "So you can go home now."

It was more of a command than a suggestion, and his dog whined pitifully until he began to pet it again, which caused an eerie silence to pervade the room.

The man opened an eye after five seconds had passed with no response. "Well?"

Zack stared down at the can of soda, entirely quiet, not knowing what to say.

Home..? But... ".. I don't have a home," he explained, tone stone hard and apathetic.

"......Ah." More uncomfortable silence. The man's eyes narrowed. "....Wait. That's what you people always say---'I don't have a home,' 'my family's dead,' or some shit like that. Now, let me tell you I have no pity for you lazy asses, so get out and stop drinking my toilet cleaner." No doubt the man was still mad about the fight that had ensued earlier, as he stood from his seat and walked calmly to a small room directly opposite the kitchen, opening it with a forced jiggle of the lock and then walking inside. It was the kind of door that probably would have had a "TRESPASS AT YOUR OWN RISK" sign tacked to the front had someone else been living there, but somehow, Zack had a feeling this jerk most likely would never have a significant other.

Right now he let out a sigh. The thing about not having a home... that wasn't true, either. He had parents all right, but where were they? Back in Gongaga. There was no way he was in a good enough physical state to travel all the way there, on Chocobo, foot, or otherwise. He stood up, leaving the empty soda can on the table and muttering to himself, "That's not it," before taking a look at the door that the stranger had gone through and then heaving his shoulders with another sigh.

"... thanks for the Coke," he mumbled, then beginning to head for the door. Damn headache was still there, too. He suddenly felt a devious streak stir within him, and with a truly evil grin also added, "Oh yeah. And don't expect me to help pay any of that off, either. I'm outta here." He opened the door, and though he really, deep inside, didn't know what the hell he was gonna do, stepped outside, possibly out of this person's life forever. Not that he cared or anything.

There was a sudden silence; the sound of cranking and tapping had been audible just a moment before. The door slammed open, its occupant nearly tumbling outside in his hurry. He glared murder at the punk, his teeth grit. "You can't do that!"

Just what Zack had been hoping for. Smirking to himself, he spun around and faced the man with a nonchalant expression. "I have nowhere to stay here in Midgar. What do you want me to do?" he asked coldly. He really shouldn't have even been on his feet, but... he wasn't going to let Highwind know that. Ahh, so stubborn in some ways.

But not as stubborn as the other.

"You fucking idiot," One of Highwind's upswept eyebrows twitched dangerously. "You could mail checks or some shit like that..." He regained his balance, pointing a finger accusatorily at the punk. "Don't try to make excuses!!!!"

God, the damn prick was making this so difficult. Zack didn't really know what he wanted from the man, but.. this definitely wasn't it. He suddenly started to feel light-headed, seeing dots of colors swimming in front of him, blurring his vision. "Ugh.. you expect me.." He was trying to supply a witty retort, but the headache combined with his fuzzy-edged vision was making it hard. He swayed to the side slightly, looking like he was about to fall over.

The scowl suddenly dropped off of Highwind's face as his arm dropped to his side. He blinked once, twice, as the younger man looked on in a daze.

"Uh... you... okay, there?" He voiced rather awkwardly, taking a hesitant step forward. He knew he should have just gone over and helped carry the guy to the room, but for all he knew, it could have been a ruse.

Zack blearily looked at him through half-glazed eyes, shaking his head to say that no, he most certainly was not all right. However, that made his head start to swim even more. He took a few staggering steps towards the stranger before falling over.

"Hey, kid---!" The man fairly ran to Zack's side, staring down at him as he saw his chest falling quickly and pain written all over his face.

"Shit," he stated matter-of-factly. He knelt down, took the kid by the shoulders and tried to prop him up against the opposite side of the narrow hallway, but he only succeeded in causing a groan to come from the young man's lips as his abdomen contracted in pain. Highwind blinked. He didn't remember hitting the kid that hard....

He was almost concerned, he told himself.

Almost.

Zack opened one eye slowly as his vision was still blurry around the edges.. yeah, he had literally passed out for a few seconds, and he still wasn't much better. He lifted a hand to his head, trying to push out the pounding headache as if by touch.

"Urgh.. I need an aspirin." He finally noticed the presence of the other, who seemed to be blinking in confusion as he tried to figure out what had happened. Well now, he knew that Highwind was definitely suspecting that there was more going on than just being hurt after a little fight. He just hoped he didn't ask any questions... For some reason, he didn't feel as if he should divulge any information about him, Cloud, the clones, Nibelheim... Shin-Ra....... Sephiroth..... Besides, it was just.... too damn painful.

"Uh.... don't think we have any aspirin." Cid frowned slightly, looking away for a moment as he thought. "But.... we do have some tea.... y'know, the stuff you pushed onto the supermarket floor.... funnily.... enough...." He wasn't sure if funnily was a word, but hell with it.

He gave him a skeptical look at the suggestion of tea. "Tea..? Ugh... I hate the stuff." He made a grimace just thinking about it. "I'd rather have nothing." He pushed against the wall he had been leaned up against, trying to slowly raise himself to his feet. Once he had done so, he put his hand over his eyes, massaging them slowly for a moment before asking himself, "God, what am I gonna do now...?"

Highwind opened his mouth to say something along the lines of "Get your damn self to a hospital", but he had a feeling that this punk kid would run off as soon as he dropped him off in the emergency wing (if he didn't just force the kid to go find a clinic himself). He just seemed like that kinda guy. Kinda like himself. Just so god damned stubborn...

"You could maybe stay here," he trailed off, realizing the whole conversation from before had gone circular until it ended up where it had started. To convince himself he wasn't being too sympathetic, he gave out a grunt, turning away with his shoulders hunched over and his hands deep in his pant pockets as he walked back into the small apartment.

"Only until you're able to haul your ass outta here, though," he grumbled. He didn't even think of offering to carry the guy back to the room ­ that would have definitely been a breach of ego, something of which this "Highwind" man seemed to have an abundant supply of. Instead, the owner of the place beckoned gruffly with one hand over his shoulder for Zack to follow him, walking past the room in which the guest had been sleeping (the nice dark room with the nice comfy bed...) and instead leading him down the narrow corridor that linked all the rooms of the apartment to the end farthest from the entrance. Zack noticed that the black lab had settled itself on a tattered pad in a corner of the kitchen, from where it eyed the stranger in its home with a wary gaze. Zack noticed something else too as he looked about the home, even with his somewhat blurry vision.

The place was a freaking mess.

From the tan carpet splotched with old stains to the dark brown ceiling cobwebbed in the corners, it looked like a junkyard or something ­ books and magazines strewn everywhere, and on top of those: screws, bolts, wrenches, and all other manner of mechanical equipment. Looked like this guy was some kind of hot rod buff or something. A very hypocritically lazy hot rod buff too, telling from the pants and oversized, oil-stained shirts strewn everywhere. It looked as if the man hadn't gone downstairs to do laundry for ages...

He was too focused on trying to size up the man from the appearance of his living quarters, in fact, that he was only half-paying attention when he followed the blonde into a dim room. Upon stepping in, he had squinted forcefully to try and see where exactly he was putting his feet. However, before he could let his eyes adjust, he had taken a few steps too early to hear the warning given too late.

"Don't touch-"

He brushed by something with his shoulder, causing whatever it was to fall over with a loud crashing sound, and since that had given the porcupine head such a shock he ended up tripping over something else, causing him to tumble across the floor where he landed in a heap at Highwind's feet.

"---anything. ........SHIT." The lights flickered on, revealing a furious look on Highwind's face. Instead of helping the already-injured Zack, he snatched the object that had fallen off the ground. It appeared to be in two pieces.

"God DAMN it." He whirled around. "You broke my TOASTER... You know, you're gonna have to pay for this...!"

Grumbling in pain as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, hair in more of a disarray than usual, some strands stopping his field of vision by falling in front of his azure eyes, Zack gave a pouty look. "All right, all right," he muttered, standing up and brushing himself off. There was a cot in the corner of the room pushed up against the wall, and although it was dirty and most likely infested with bugs, it seemed extremely welcoming to him at that point. He stumbled over and collapsed onto it, heaving a relieved sigh at finally being off of his feet. He squirmed a bit on the cot, trying to find a comfortable position, but he wasn't able to. Plus, with even the slightest movement the cot would give a screeching squeak that sent the hairs on the back of his neck on end.

He looked over at the stranger, who was now fiddling with the injured toaster and seemed to be rather distressed for it, like it was a living thing that had been wounded rather than a busted appliance. "Err... so, what's your name? I guess I should know since I'll be staying here now." He had no qualms that he had made himself right at home, even though Highwind seemed to be a bit perturbed at the moment....

The man didn't answer at first. He seemed to be engaged in staring at the broken pieces of toaster and moping about how long it would take to fix the damn thing until seconds later, when the inquiry registered in his head and he turned towards Zack, irritable and disgruntled.

"Cid," he answered hotly. "Cid Highwind ­ and you'd better remember it, too!" He ranted as he walked out the door, the toaster clutched tightly in his hands. "It's the name you're gonna be making checks out to for a year and a half, the way you destroy shit... Dammit..."