Alright, the Evil Tifa cliché. And alright for going back to a joke from the second chapter (see if you can spot it). Stories that put a character in a bad light for no real reason really aren't my cup of tea, so it's basically all stock knowledge I'm going on, having only disgustedly skimmed through some of these types.
The disclaimer is the same as its always been.
(And away we go!)
"Um... okay, so what do we do now?" 'Jim-Jam' asked from where she was dog-piled on top of 'Greg', both of them trying to hold Tifa down, the other woman still shrieking and trying to throw them off.
'Greg' looked up, glanced back down at Tifa, and then up again, eyes squinched shut as he thought about it.
"Well, we could always try to wait until next chapter again, I guess; get a little more time to think this through... I really don't know what to do in these situations. I've just been following her lead for the most part."
"Let me up you idiots! I only want to kill Aerith, but if you get in my way-"
"Shut up! They'll hear you and you'll blow our cover!" 'Jim-Jam' hissed frantically, clapping her hands down over Tifa's mouth, glancing down at 'Greg' helplessly.
"Alright, see? We're going to have to figure something out."
'Jim-Jam' nodded, looking over to where the AVALANCHE members were, completely oblivious to the real peril afoot.
"We could uh... well, we could just sit on her until things run their course, or you could get us out of here or something."
"I don't think that would really work. She'd probably be able to overpower us eventually, and then she'd just start tearing everyone a new ass. I mean, she's really kind of been using this personal vendetta thing as a carte blanche to just beat the snot out of people. If it didn't turn me on so damn much, I wouldn't still be tagging along with her."
Um... ew.
"So, what should we do? I mean, if we just let her go off and do her thing, they'd all wonder why she was going totally batshit for no reason, and then they'd probably just gang up on her instead of trying to get her psychiatric help and – ow! She's biting me! She's biting me!"
'Jim-Jam' tried jerking her hand free from Tifa's mouth, but the other woman's teeth were clamped down on her like a steel trap. Panicking, 'Jim-Jam' brought her left hand down, punching Tifa in the back of the head in an attempt to get her to let go.
Tifa let out a slight squeal of surprise as 'Jim-Jam''s fist connected, knocking her head forward against the ground, and it was enough for 'Jim-Jam' to rip her hand free, blood streaming from the wound and running down her forearm, while Tifa, shaking off the hit, merely sneered, spitting out the piece of flesh she had torn off.
"I told you to let me up! I'll kill that bitch, and anyone else that tries to stop me!" She raged, redoubling her efforts to get free, while 'Jim-Jam' tried to stop the tears from coming, and 'Greg', half frantic, tried to figure out a way he could possibly...
Ah ha!
"'Jim-Jam', start punching her into squealing submission, and don't stop until I give the signal." He ordered, squirming free of his place between Tifa and 'Jim-Jam' in their unceremonious dog pile, making sure to totally keep his hands to himself, being the strangely platonic friend he was. 'Jim-Jam' shrugged, and brought her bleeding hand down against Tifa's throat, cutting off her enraged ranting.
She used her weight to keep Tifa pinned down, raining blow after bloody-handed blow on her exposed back, not sure why 'Greg' decided to resort to such a tactic, but not really caring, as long as Tifa couldn't bite her again.
'Greg' made his way over to his burlap sack, which he had dropped during all of the hub-bub.
And it gave me an excuse to use the word hub-bub again. Whoo! That line will never get played out! Yes, yes, I know. A fucking laugh riot I ain't, and that's the last time hub-bub will appear in my story.
For real.
He hastily opened it and up-ended it, letting all of the knick-knacks and miscellaneous items he had collected as swag fall to the ground; creating a pile of goods which, by all accounts would not have managed to fit into such a sack.
But no matter. Now he and 'Jim-Jam' were going to do what they had intended to do eleven chapters ago.
Making his way back over to the obligatory, one-sided ass-stompin', he came to a stop by 'Jim-Jam' motioning for her to stop, the sheer volume of Tifa's squealing a sure sign she had been punched thoroughly into submission.
'Jim-Jam' got up, pulling Tifa along with her, before turning and slinging her heavily into the kidnapping sack, 'Greg' tying it shut once Tifa was in there.
However, the crisis was not totally averted, as Tifa was still shrieking at them, renewing her struggles all over again, writhing and kicking within the confines of the burlap sack, trying to get free.
But 'Greg' wasted no time in gawking, making his way back over to his pile of swag, and picking up the heaviest thing he could get his hands on, before turning and hurling it down onto the twisting, shrieking figure within the sack.
With a muted 'ow' and a slight thud, Tifa went still and silent, leaving 'Greg' and 'Jim-Jam' standing over the sack, staring down at it, slightly winded and at a total loss for words.
After a few minutes though, 'Greg' broke the silence and knelt to pick up the small metal bucket he had thrown at Tifa, shooting Jim-Jam a smug look.
"And you said we didn't need the Citronella candle. 'Oh, why should we worry about Mosquitos!'" He mocked, pulling a face when he saw the dent in the side of it; the wax cracked from the impact with Tifa's head.
"Well, I didn't think you were going to use it for something like that." She paused, frowning a little, scrubbing a hand over her currently bald scalp. "She's probably going to be real mad when she wakes up, you know."
'Greg' just shrugged, tossing the now wrecked candle aside, before shoving his hands into the pockets of his duster, rolling his shoulders distractedly.
"Yeah, maybe. But hey, if we get hospitalized again, at least we'll get to stay up all night watching Sabado Domingo." He paused, glancing over his shoulder to where the AVALANCHE members were still lauding Aerith's miraculous return, his lips pulling into a grim line. "But we're going to have to figure out what to do first."
"Well, like what? Unless we could find a way to string her up like a puppet or something, or... no, that wouldn't work. We need to keep her in the bag, in case she wakes up in the middle of this. So..."
She trailed off hopelessly, left hand still on her scalp, right hand held out in front of her as the blood continued dripping from the wound, thinking hard about what to do, while simultaneously looking for something she could bandage her hand with.
Of course, she was at a super-deficiency here, having just gotten back into the action. But perhaps 'Greg', who was busy picking through the pile of swag that had been liberated from the kidnapping sack, would have an idea.
Well, he damn well needed to come up with something, or else this chapter would go fucking nowhere.
Luckily, his pile of swag held the answer to all their problems. Be it the Citronella candle he had busted Tifa in the head with, or one of 'Jim-Jam''s brand new wigs they 'Greg' had tossed in the sack for when she got tired of the new, somewhat classy skinhead look she was currently sporting.
Pausing as he picked up the mass of synthetic brown hair, he held it up to check the length of it, paused, looked over at 'Jim-Jam', paused, glanced over at the burlap sack, paused, started to put the wig on his own head, but then he stopped dead, nose scrunching up as he shook his head before looking back at 'Jim-Jam', holding the wig up as realization slowly dawned on him.
"Hey, Jan, come here." He nodded, causing 'Jim-Jam' to make her way over, glancing dubiously at him and the wig.
"You can just call me 'Jim-Jam', yanno. It just gets too weird if Tifa's calling me 'Jim-Jam', and you're calling me 'Jan', and then Krauser or Januaria will probably show up and be calling me 'Janichyka'. And then some numb-nuts will probably come along, and be like, 'Hey! Wasn't your name something Asian sounding? Like Fa-L-"
'Greg' quickly threw his hands up, to stop her from fully revealing their terrible secret, before tossing the wig to her, which she just stared at in confusion for a long moment.
"Okay, 'Jim-Jam' it is then. Now listen up. I think I have a plan. You're going to have to put on that wig, go over there, and you're going to have to act like Tifa." He explained, gesturing with his hands as he spoke, as if attempting to outline a complicated football play or something of the sort.
"What makes you think I can do that?" 'Jim-Jam' asked staring at him like she couldn't believe his master plan entailed nothing more than that. "All I know about Tifa is that I hate her 'just because'. I don't know how to be her. You do it."
"See, I would, but then they'd probably start to wonder why Tifa had a Soul Patch, and such rippling washboard abs. And, uh, you know, it would help if the person acting as Tifa was actually female. And your brand new eyes are a close enough match, and this wig is close to what her hair is. And your... endowments are close to what hers were before she pulled out those horrible implant things. And she did lend you those clothes, so, that counts for something." He shrugged helplessly, his 'glow-in-the-freakin'-dark' eyes widening as he brought his hands up, ready to beg and plead with her to help him out.
"I don't know she acts either. I mean, we had 'spineless lovelorn Tifa' at first, and once we got out of that situation, she beat me nearly to death and stabbed me in the eyes with chopsticks. How is she supposed to interact with people normally?"
"Well, she's pretty cool. But she's had a rough eight years in fanfic limbo, so, I mean, you have to forgive her if she goes a little over the top and out of character at times. And to be fair, you were really annoying. But, anyhow, just be nice for the most part, get all their names right, and I'm sure they won't even notice."
'Jim-Jam' eventually nodded, taking the wig and putting it on, adjusting it until it sat right on her head, before glancing back at 'Greg', frowning.
"Do I look like her?" She asked, twirling once, expectant.
"Y... okay, no. You don't." He admitted, getting to his feet, and grabbing her by the shoulders, slowly turning her until they were facing the still happening Aerith resurrection moment. "Okay, look. Right now, this is all about those two. Nobody will be paying attention to Tifa, because they're all going to be fucking shocked at seeing Aerith alive again."
"Wasn't something like this supposed to happen in our story line? Like after I got blown up in the fifth-to-last chapter of course." She cut in, glancing back over her shoulder at him, seeing him nodding emphatically.
"Yes! Exactly. And it's a happy fun-time occasion. Except for you, because you're probably supposed to be bummed out and super-duper jealous. So now, go over there and do the best you can. You may not have black and pink hair, you may not have neon pink cat eyes, and you may not have that fucked up accent anymore, but dammit, you're still Janichkya Ivanka Robinasayakanovich-Schweizer; crazy wilderness freakshow animal girl, and super-spy assassin extraordinaire."
'Jim-Jam' just blinked at him, frowning.
"Wow... that was really, really inspiring." She breathed, left hand going up to her heart, a slight flush on her cheeks. "Right now, I want nothing more than to go over there and do a great job at this."
And there goes another one of 'Greg''s ill-defined abilities. Power to give impassioned, inspiring speeches to rouse the morale of his fellow deathcult assassins when the situation calls for some dramatic catalyst to get the ball rolling.
He nodded to her, pushing her lightly towards the plot in progress.
"Alright, go on. Now just remember, what are you going to do?"
"I'm gonna-"
"-Kill that whore!"
'Jim-Jam' and 'Greg' paused, their impassioned speeches and all plans forgotten as they turned towards the sack, seeing Tifa writhing around inside of it again, having regained consciousness.
'Greg' let out a disbelieving sigh, glancing at 'Jim-Jam', throwing his hands up in exasperation.
"What. The. Crap." He sighed, reaching down and picking up the Citronella candle again, making his way over to the bag and bringing it up over his head, trying to judge where Tifa's head was. He glanced over his shoulder, casting 'Jim-Jam' a hopeful grin "Good luck. If you get stuck, just give me a shout and I'll see if I can help you out."
"What about you?"
"Oh, I'm just going to hang out here, and try to make sure Tifa stays in the bag."
"Alright. Good luck with that." She nodded, before turning and making her way towards the pond that, up until recently had been Aerith's grave.
As she made her way over, she kept replaying 'Greg''s impassioned, off the cuff speech. She could do this. Heck, she would do it! She had to do it, and in a charming fashion in order to give the readers something to like about her.
'Jim-Jam', baby, this is your time to shine!
Her stomach was clenching on itself a little, but she was determined not to let her nervousness ruin this for them, as, basically, she had to do it to gain some measure of acceptance, among her peers and anyone reading this.
Stumbling her way into the clearing, she made her way over to them, mustering up the most carefree grin she manage, shouldering her way into their midst, before clapping her hand down one Aerith's shoulder, causing the Ancient to turn slightly, looking mildly confused.
"Hi guys!" She chirped happily, waving with her still bleeding hand, realizing a little too late that she had forgotten to take care of it in all the sudden brainstorming.
All of the excited chatter died off immediately and all eyes were suddenly on her. Even the sappy, romantic music that had cued up when Aerith was revived suddenly cut off in a squeal; like a needle scraping across a record.
'Jim-Jam' looked around, all pleasantries forgotten for the moment, wonder what the Hell a moving musical score was doing in a piece of writing.
I mean, come on, have some standards here.
"Way to ruin the songfic moment! ...Yeesh." Yuffie sighed, glaring at her, before putting the needle back down on the Phonograph set up next to her, the sappy music starting up again.
"Uh, sorry." She said, coughing slightly to try and cover for her discomfort and embarrassment. "I was ah... running a little late, you know, and I was just so excited at seeing Aerith alive again that I just couldn't help myself."
"Running a little late?" Yuffie scoffed, folding her arms across her chest, glowering at the other woman. "Huh! Well, that's funny, because we didn't even invite you to this momentous occasion."
'Jim-Jam' blinked, tucking some hair behind her left ear, pouting.
"What do you mean I wasn't invited?" She asked, looking at all the other AVALANCHE members in turn, a petulant frown tugging at her pouty features. "I thought we were all friends. I'm just as happy to see Aerith alive as the rest of you are."
"Tch. Yeah, I'll bet. You didn't love Aerith the way we do." Cait Sith sniffed, sticking his tongue out from his perch on the mog robot, who was also giving her a disapproving glare.
"Those are some pretty haughty words coming from somebody that doesn't wear pants." She shot back hotly, noticing the way everybody tensed, Cloud pulling Aerith behind him protectively. "And secondly, you're a robot! You're incapable of human emotions! And thirdly, couldn't Reeve just show up! I mean if the gang's all here, why'd he send his robot instead of coming in person! Huh! You wanna explain that to me, Puss in Boots!"
"I ah... look, Tifa, we don't want any trouble here..." Cait replied slowly, hands up as if to try and ward her off. Well, that and turn the subject away from the whole 'still going around as Cait Sith despite the need for the robot being long past' thing.
Oh yeah, great segue there, jackass.
"Yeah, don't go biting our heads off just because you're upset that Aerith is back, and she's with Cloud now." Yuffie put in, still huffy, hands on her hips.
"What are you talking about!" 'Jim-Jam' cried indignantly, brown eyes looking around frantically, trying to figure out what was going on, though all she got in return was guarded, wary stares, a few of them holding their weapons down by their sides, as if ready to attack should the need arise. "I'm not upset about that. I mean, come on, you didn't invite me along because you thought I'd be jealous because she didn't want to be with me? That's awfully silly. I mean, I like Aerith and all, but, yanno..."
"We were talking about Cloud choosing her over you." Cid gritted out from behind her, hissing through clenched teeth, hand cupped to her ear so that only she could hear him. "God, I knew you were just some kind of dumb slut, but this is unbelievable."
"Oh. Ha ha, Cid. Real original." 'Jim-Jam' sniped flatly, rolling her eyes. "'Oh, oh, oh! She has a voluptuous figure and wears a miniskirt. She's obviously a whore.' Come back when you get some original material you dumb piece of shit. My God, you thought I was after Cloud! I thought he was gay! Gay with that guy!" She cried, pointing towards Vincent, whose reaction was rather unreadable, given the three square inches of his face that could actually be seen.
Alas, that bit of it was true. Back in the story that she had been created solely for, she had often made rather snide allusions berating Cloud's (and subsequently Vincent's) sexuality.
Because, y'know. Any guys that spend that much time doing there hair just have to be a bit 'Ting-a-ling-a-ling'.
Of course, such a gross misconception was exactly what would lead to her violent death in an explosion in the fifth to last chapter of the story she stemmed from. Seriously, she was going to be doused with Super-Extra-Hold Aquanet, lit on fire, and then, while her flesh was bubbling and peeling back, they were going to throw her in the munitions storage room at the bad guys' lair, and kill her in a manly, super macho explosion.
"Oh sure Tifa, that'll win him over to your side. Gay rumors, that's one you haven't tried already. It isn't going to work, because Cloud's got Aerith; he's not interested in a two-cent hussy like you." Yuffie started, throwing herself back into the verbal attacks on our beloved, incognito 'Jim-Jam'.
"Hey, I already said it to that asshole over there, and I'll say it to you too. New material. Get it. For fuck's sake, I'm wearing a stylish tracksuit! With a hilarious logo tee under it! And if you keep up with these stock insults, I'll break your fucking-"
She stopped short, index finger raised high in the air like some great orator, as she realized exactly what was happening; clapping her bleeding hand over her mouth to cover up her squeal of suppressed anger. First, she had made the faux-pas of calling attention to my current lack of descriptiveness in this story by flat out describing her outfit. Secondly, she had gone back into that whole "Bitchy Female" persona in her interaction with all of the unwitting AVALANCHE members.
Dear God, she was in 'Jim-Jam' mode, not 'Convincing fake Tifa' mode.
She pried her hand away from her mouth, took a deep breath, and fixed them all with the most disappointed, disgusted look she could manage.
"Hey, you're deliberately baiting me so that I come off as violent and unstable!" She cried, lips pressing together in a thin line, eyes narrowing. "That's cheating!"
Of course, despite calling them on it, her phrasing and emphasis on it didn't seem to dissuade any of them, as now all of them were looking ready to gang up on her at any moment.
However, Aerith was staring at the streak of blood on 'Jim-Jam''s face, left by her still bloody hand. She frowned a little, eyes flooded with concern.
"Oh, Tifa, what happened to your hand?" She asked worriedly, reaching out towards her, though Cloud grabbed his recently-returned sweetheart, holding her back. Despite all of the others being distrustful of Tifa and her obsessive desire to have Cloud all to herself, Aerith was still all-loving, and concerned for Tifa, no matter what murderous vendetta the martial artist might have against her.
'Jim-Jam' paused, looking at the Ancient, sighing. This was going to have to be one totally awesome lie to win back AVALANCHE.
"I fought a fucking bear on my way here, because it was headed this way too! I... was so worried that it could make its way over here and possibly hurt you, that I was just overcome with a loving, concerned bloodlust, because I couldn't bear the thought that you could have been eaten by that ferocious animal and taken away from us yet again!"
"Oh, bullshit." Barret sighed, only half-attempting to cover it up by pretending he was coughing.
'Jim-Jam' paused, glancing over her shoulder at him, sighing, her emotional words, with the rousing background music provided by that Phonograph that Yuffie had with her, were quickly forgotten about, leaving her glowering at him without any sort of background accompaniment.
"Dude, what's your excuse? You and T- I mean, you and me are like best friends. How come you're siding against me? And don't even give me a reason to get started on you." She continued, turning her attention to Nanaki, who had yet to say anything, or react to any sort of rant.
"Eh. Everybody else is against ya right now, so I figure I'll just throw my lot in with them. Mob mentality and all that, yo." Barret replied, offering no further explanation.
She opened her mouth to retort, when a high-pitched, fearful cry of horror pierced through the air, coupled with a woman's shout of rage and pure, unadulterated fury.
"'Jim-Jam'! 'Jim-Jam', help! Oh Jesus, she's gotten out of the bag! God, quit pretending to be Tifa and help me out here, please! Agh! Ow, ow!"
'Greg''s pleading wail caused everyone to stop dead, and 'Jim-Jam' winced, her head whipping around instinctively towards the sound of the struggle, almost causing the wig to fly off her head. She clamped her hand down on the now askew hairpiece, realizing that everybody was now looking towards the source of the noise as well, though they luckily couldn't see 'Greg' yet. However, Aerith was still staring at her, eyebrow piqued questioningly.
"A... uh, see! See! That's what I was talking about! Why, right now, that poor park ranger may very well be mauled to death by another vicious bear!" 'Jim-Jam' exclaimed, voice far too over-loud and frantic for her liking.
This whole operation was quickly falling to shambles.
Oh why did I think bringing 'Jim-Jam' back into this story would be a good idea!
"'Jim-Jam', for the love of... Good Christ, this is Chapter Nine all over again!"
Cloud, his arm still protectively around Aerith's waist, looked towards the others, not seeming very thrilled with the shrieking victim not too far away.
"Uh... you think we should go help that guy or something?" He asked blankly, his voice inflecting that he wasn't thinking very highly of his own suggestion. The others all seemed to echo his sentiment; not concerned in the least with poor 'Greg''s predicament.
"Nah. Aerith is back, so let's all go party!" Yuffie suggested, before shooting 'Jim-Jam' a dark look. "Tifa can come only if Aerith says its okay."
"Of course it is!" Aerith chirped, nodding emphatically. "Didn't you hear her impassioned speech? She fought a fucking bear just to make sure nothing bad would happen to me. Now let's all go get drunk."
And just like that, they all turned and headed for one of the long-empty Shell structures dotting the rather barren landscape, with full intent to get liquored up and just hang out in the background of the story, while Cloud and Aerith got 'reacquainted', and Tifa, her hatred fueled further by copious amounts of alcohol, would simply fume and rant and plot Aerith's demise.
However, poor, rattled 'Jim-Jam' stayed behind, peering towards the source of 'Greg''s pleas for help, worried sick, and possessing half a mind to go make sure that nothing... non-consensual happened to her fellow deathcult assassin.
And just how the Hell had Tifa gotten out of the bag? Since they hadn't been graced with a scene shift to explain it, perhaps…..
"Perhaps it'll be explained in the next chapter!" She exclaimed hopefully, trying to steady herself and end the chapter as soon as possible. Once they were thrown into that sort of existential limbo that existed between chapters, she'd have time to think this through, and maybe come up with a stellar plan and pull herself back together.
However, the chapter didn't end at her command, leaving her standing there, looking up at the sky, wondering why it wasn't working.
"I said, perhaps we'll find out the extent of 'Greg''s predicament in the next chapter." She tried again, still to no avail. She was going to try a third time, but stopped herself just in time as she heard footsteps approaching. She just hoped it was one of the others coming to make an ominous threat about her leaving Cloud and Aerith alone, or else. Something like that would stop the action cold.
"Tifa? Are you okay? You're acting a lot different from how you were last chapter. I know this is that whole 'Tifa's evil and jealous and vindictive so let's all bash on her' but you just don't really seem on top of your game today. Is everything alright?"
'Jim-Jam' turned, seeing Aerith standing not too far away, staring at her with true, 'honest to God, not mandated by the plotline' concern.
She opened her mouth to reply, her left hand still gripping at her wig, but even as she did, she couldn't find the words. She needed help; bad. So far she hadn't been found out, but she couldn't go on like this. Besides, the tears were already starting to flow, and, as we all know, once that starts, begging for help won't be far off.
As the tears started rolling hot and fast down her cheeks, she took in a choking breath and pulled the wig away from her head, revealing her bald, still stapled scalp.
"I'm not Tifa. My name's 'Jim-Jam', and I'm one of her reformed uber-villain tag-alongs." She admitted, wringing the mass of hair between her hands, unable to contain the sobs that wracked her body. Aerith just stood silently, listening as she went on, unable to stop herself; needing to talk to somebody. "Tifa went all crazy-nutso on us, so 'Greg' made me put my wig on and come here to act like Tifa so it wouldn't end up cliché, but I don't know what I'm doing, and I don't think anybody believes my awesome lies, and now Tifa's doing unmentionable things to 'Greg', and I'm screwing up terribly, and I just want to go back to my own story, and I'm so useless and- and why can't I end the goddamn chapter!" She shrieked, falling to her knees in anguish, throwing her wig down in defeat.
She was a little surprised when Aerith placed an arm around her shoulders, trying to coddle her and stop her tears, shushing her.
"Okay, okay, just calm down sweetie. Look, it'll be okay. You're doing a great job as 'bitchy, indignant, and insanely jealous Tifa'. Since I wholeheartedly support Tifa's current, crazy vendetta, I'll help you out so she can stop being all evil, and you can move on to something a little less….. harrowing."
'Jim-Jam' glanced up hopefully, swiping the back of her hand across her face, though she totally missed the thick ropes of mucus dangling from her nostrils, snorting in an undignified manner to try and get rid of them.
"Y-you really mean it?"
Aerith, in a very motherly, loving fashion, wiped 'Jim-Jam''s nose for her, nodding lightly.
"Of course. I'll tell you everything you need to know….. at the beginning of the next chapter."
END TWELVE
"Oh hey!" 'Jim-Jam' exclaimed, brightening up a little, seeing those two glorious little words marking the end of the chapter. "How'd you manage to do that? I mean, Tifa and 'Greg' can do it, but when I tried-"
"'Jim-Jam', sweetie, when it says 'END TWELVE', that means 'END TWELVE'."
"Right, right. My bad."
END TWELVE (for real this time).
Well, what have we here? 'Jim-Jam' having a panic-stricken breakdown? 'Greg' victim to the murderous machinations of Evil Tifa? Aerith on the assist again? How will things turn out for our protagonists? Well, it'll obviously turn out okay in the end, you know, because otherwise, they'd fail at their mission, and probably just give up out of spite or something. But, anyhow, next chapter we'll find out just how good of a Tifa coach Aerith can be.