Operation: Exploding Jellyfish
Chapter Two: Portuguese Man O' War
19:00, Edge
The bike rumbled to a stop about three blocks from the main WRO office building.
Yuffie kicked out the stand and swung a leg over, dismounting easily. A little over a year with the bike had acclimated her to mounting and dismounting. Starting and killing the engine was as natural as breathing, now.
She slipped a couple of Materia into the Conformer, her eyes fluttering closed as she checked her boots and the location of her Magic Materia.
"Let's get this party started," she murmured. And with that, she took off down the street. Her legs automatically shifted, her muscles tensing and relaxing, as she almost unconsciously slipped into the street's walking rhythm. Despite the short shorts, crazy boots, and general physical oddness, she blended in nicely with the rest of the street.
Two buildings away from the WRO headquarters, she stopped.
She very calmly, very much in a way that people would not notice, snuck around to the building's far side.
As she had known she would, she found a fire escape. Briefly, she inspected it, checking for rust or signs of obvious damage. She found none.
For an instant, she crouched, then backed up. Crouched again, then leapt into a sprint. At the perfect instant, she jumped. Her hands connected with the lowest rung on the fire escape ladder. Curling her body inwards and heaving, she flipped under the railing and onto the fire escape.
She slipped, quietly as she possibly could, up the fire escape. Her boots should have made much more noise against the metal than they actually did.
Thank Leviathan for shinobi training, she thought.
Once she'd reached the roof, she crouched. Her body lowered easily, leather and shoelaces creaking softly. She covered her vest's zipper track with one hand even as she yanked the pull.
From inside her wrist guards she withdrew a pair of gloves. They covered all the way up to her upper arms. She pulled the vest's hood up, sighing when she realized that she had no way to cover her shorts or legs.
Or boots.
Well, so far as she knew, Reeve hadn't invented a way to identify people by their leg stubble, so she was probably safe.
Probably.
She didn't like to trust "probably". Under most circumstances, if there was a "probably" involved, she got uninvolved. Right fucking quick.
Unless it looked fun.
She cracked her knuckles. Gotta stop that— too loud. Gauged distance, altitude, time, momentum. How she could land, how she should land, how she would land.
And then she turned on the rock 'n roll.
Her feet carried her back a few paces. Silently, the night air rushing around her, she started to run. One foot propped up onto the roof's ledge.
Quick push. Up. Shift weight, curling legs to chest.
She easily flipped over the gap between Building One and Building Two. Her hands swung out as she caught herself on the ledge, pulling into a tight handstand— oh Leviathan, I'm really REALLY not dressed for this— got to keep my legs low, Lord Leviathan, don't let them see me— and then legs over, gently down.
She was on Rooftop Two.
Yuffie crept to the far end of the roof, making sure to stay as low to the tile as possible.
Reeve had something like fifteen guards, and at least two of them would be on the roof.
She peered over the side of the building. Reeve's office was on the top floor of the WRO Headquarters (he'd wanted it in a bunker, just to be cool and different, but that would have seemed paranoid), but she wouldn't be able to jump directly to his window.
Instead, she backed herself up again. Gave herself a running start, then took a flying leap off the building.
She didn't scream. Because her clothing was so tight, it didn't rustle as she went down. The only sounds she made were the slight creaking of leather, the sound of the wind rushing alongside the Four Point shuriken, and the slight rush of air from her lungs when she made contact with a window ledge.
She went completely, perfectly still, listening, covering her mouth and nose with her hand to muffle the sounds of breathing.
Rooftop Security Guard Number One said, "Xu? Was that just me?"
A woman's voice replied, "I didn't hear a damn thing"
"Shut up the both of you. I'm playing Solitaire."
Xu hissed, "Nida! We have a job to do! If the Boss catches you—"
Ah, office politics.
Next thing you know, one of them's going to want his STAPLER or something. She paused, then swung herself onto the stone outcropping beside the ledge. She would climb up, using these junctures.
And climb up she did. It left her thighs scraped, so she stopped to roll a Restore Materia along them. Blood would go a damn sight farther to identify her than leg hair would. And Reeve would have people smart enough to collect it.
She stared into the darkened window. According to the glowing Moogle Clock, this was Reeve's office.
Oh god, a glowing Moogle clock. Those were for, like, two year old girls.
And, apparently, thirty year old men.
I always knew Reeve was a weird-o.
Her hands slid to the slim, flat piece of metal she kept in her right boot, against the outside of her calf. The metal piece slid into the gap between the window's track and the grip.
Perfect fit.
Yuffie couldn't fight down a predatory grin. With one quick jerk and a brief burst of electricity, the Tall Tim disengaged the window locks and the window slid effortlessly up.
She rolled into the room, eyes casting in the darkness for the desk. Once she'd silently made her way to the desk, the dim glow of the Moogle clock allowed her to find the lock on the third drawer on the left.
Her lockpick set withdrawn from her other gauntlet, she went to work.
Two minutes and thirty-two seconds later, she held a tiny black box in her palm.
The ring, she noted, was made out of steel.
"He should have done unclassifiable Materia. It lasts longer," she murmured.
She went back to the window.
And then she realized that while she'd been stealing the engagement ring, a thick metal plate had slid down into the window frame.
Oh .
That wasn't supposed to have been silent. That was supposed to have made at least a little noise.
She stared at the door. She could already see the same sort of plating sliding down.
"No. Abso-#$ing-lutely NOT."
And then she was moving. Over the desk, across the room, desperately grabbing onto the doorknob, yanking the door open. Oh crap, oh crap, the door was sticking because it couldn't open near the top.
Holy shit, she was gonna die!
With one last, mindless yank, the door opened just enough for her to slip through.
Right into the path of two very surprised guards.
No time to think. The Four Point shuriken slid into her grasp. She pulled her arm back and released, flinging it at the guard to her right. It knocked him back several paces, but probably didn't strike skin— she heard one of the Four Point's blades collide with armour of some sort.
Plastic, too, from the sound of it.
Kevlar? He's got security guards in Kevlar? Just who the hell does he think is going to be busting in here?
She moved forwards, grabbing the Four Point from where it had lodged in his flak jacket. After a hard jerk, the Four Point came free.
The other security guard brought his pistol to bear, his left leg sliding along the floor as he slipped into the basic stance.
You've got to be kidding me.
Cross body draw. Basic stance. Impossible to say who'd taught him. But there was something very... Vincenty about the way the man glared at her from behind that pistol.
Oh #$, didn't we all contribute with the WRO? Even Vincent, before he off and disappeared on us?
Her eyes narrowed. Even if he'd been trained by Vincent— and she had no proof of that— she could take him down.
After all, he wasn't Vincent. More like... A mini-Vincent. And when you cast Mini on Vincent, you got...
Well, a pissed off Vincent. But he was also harmless, adorable, and armed with a tiny little pop gun that wouldn't hurt a fly if you beat the fly over the head with it. Same went for the claw.
Mini-Vincent was going down.
Yuffie swept out her arm, the flat of one of the Four Point's blades connecting with the side of his head.
Mini-Vincent went down.
But Security Guard Number One was still there. And Security Guard One was still conscious, barely. He'd been playing dead.
Well, son of a bitch. Ain't that just peachy.
"We've got a B&E, intruder on the fourth floor, armed and dangerous! Requesting—"
She kicked the walkie-talkie out of his hand. "Stupid mother-#$ing idiot! You're going to have Reeve trying to like chew on my backbone or some #$ing thing and oh my gawd I am so #$ing dead."
No time, she realized. No time to chew out the idiot security guard.
The walkie-talkie went crunch under her boot heel. And Leviathan above and below, but that was a satisfying sound.
No more time.
She took off down the hallway, no longer worried about keeping her steps silent.
—Oh, and Reeve?
—Yeah?
—Do something about vents and elevator shafts. And trash chutes, laundry chutes, dumbwaiters. If it's an opening that goes from one room to another and a kid could fit through it, close it up, put in grates, do something about it.
—Oh, I've already got a plan for that, kiddo.
—And don't call me kiddo. Or I'll break into your office AND break all your bones!
Her heartbeat pounding in her ears, she careened through the halls. It figured Vincent would have showed them how a Turk held a gun.
The explanation was simple: Leviathan hated her. Leviathan hated her with a mad passion like whoah.
She stopped suddenly, forced to bend slightly to accommodate inertia.
Four guards. Four. In front of her. She was so screwed. How many of them were there?
No time. There were... Nine left, somewhere in the building.
She pulled herself into a forwards tumble, making sure to take out one security guard's knees. A quick stamp of her foot against his nose and he was effectively incapacitated.
Kinda hard to aim a gun when your eyes are watering and you're blacking out.
She took down another with a kick to the jaw and a forward thrust of the Four Point into the solar plexus. The Kevlar vest dulled the blow, but it was enough to wind him. Instinctively, he bent over, trying to force air into his lungs.
A crack to the centre of his back had him on the ground.
Two more. These two had been smart enough to move. One jumping backwards; the other trying to move forwards. They were going to try to trap her between them, apparently.
Forward-Moving Guard, she took out with a swift kick to the forward shin, followed by a slice to the same with her shuriken. Almost absently, she struck his right shoulder hard enough that the Four Point made a ringing sound against the plastic.
Now he was trapped on one knee, unable to lift a gun.
Backwards-Moving Guard didn't have time to blink as she flung the shuriken, taking out his right arm.
And then it was past them, onwards. She could hear footsteps in the stairwells, voices, echoing.
She looked around.
A vent. A window. A hallway. Several doors.
The vents were out, the window was out (four stories was too high, even for her). The hallway provided no cover.
She didn't have time to pick locks. She simply grabbed a doorknob and murmured, "Lightning1." The spell was weak enough that it didn't blast her backwards. The electricity jerked through the doorknob, temporarily disengaging the electric locks.
Gawd, I love Materia.
The door clicked closed and behind her. She dove behind a desk, listening.
The footsteps and voices grew louder, closer.
"Okay, sir, we've got four down, no, SIX down, all violently, all probably quickly. This person is armed, and dangerous enough to take out six Valentine-trained."
So she'd been right, and Vincent had trained these guards.
An army of Mini-Vincents. She was screwed.
"Alright, when we encounter him, don't bother trying to take him alive. Just shoot to kill. We'll figure out WHY he broke in later."
Shoot to kill.
Oh FUCK.
Almost without thinking, she dialled Vincent.
"Valentine."
"Oh god Vincent I HAVE A MAJOR PROBLEM."
In typical Vincent fashion, he said nothing.
"The security guards put out a STK on me!"
"What."
He sounded incredulous. Well, as close as he ever came to sounding incredulous, which featured the addition of a slightly surprised tone.
It still hadn't quite come out a question. But that was Vincent for you.
"No, Vin, they really did. Oh my gawd they're actually trying to actually kill me with guns and I hate guns because outrunning guns is really hard!"
"And what would you have me do?"
"No, no, wait. See. I know I can take the army of Mini-Vincents. I just need to calm down. And I'm not calming down!"
"So calm down."
"I CAN'T YOU HAVE TO HELP ME!"
Vincent was silent for a long while. While he was quiet, she tried to slow her breathing and listen.
"Jack? Check the roof. He may have already gone up. He couldn't have gone down. Dan? Check the security room. Tom, Lou, check the doors here."
Crap. Crap, crap, crap.
"What would you do if Tifa refused Cloud's proposal?"
Yuffie blinked. The image of Tifa giving back this stupid steel ring, throwing it right in Cloud's face, popped into her mind.
Tifa wouldn't. She wouldn't.
But Cloud had the baggage of six airports and twelve cruise liners, plus carry-on and confiscated items, plus the contents of the "lost and found" offices.
But Tifa would say yes, it was all but certain.
But.
Oh god.
"!" Yuffie forced out. "Just !"
Vincent said nothing.
After she vented the pure wrath and terror that thought provoked in her, words came easier. Of course, that could have been because there was only one punishment worthy of such a crime, really.
"Oh my Gawd! I'd have to eat her spleen!"
She could hear him blinking through the phone. His silence was also audible.
"Vincent, I have to get out of here! I have to get out so I can eat her spleen!"
She didn't close the connection. She might need Vincent later. Somehow. Instead, she very carefully tied the PHS to her head with her headband.
A rather primitive sort of hands-free calling, but it would do. Note to self: she really needed to get one of those headset things.
"Okay, let's get this party started."
She cracked her knuckles (Need to stop that! Too much noise!) and glared at the door.
Within an instant, she had the Four Point out and was over the desk.
"Lightning2!" She cried.
The door flew open, slamming into a surprised guard. It caught him just above his ear.
"Fuck," he said mildly as he went to one knee.
He struggled to stand.
She slipped the Status Materia from her left wrist guard, replacing it with a Command Materia— Triple.
"Lightning3," she cried as she burst through the door, "Lightning3, Lightning3!"
The for-all-intents-and-purposes-Lightning9 took him out. She turned to see three guards emerge from the stairs, as well as four others burst towards her.
Seven.
Seven guards. She used another Triple-Cast, this time of Fire3. It seared one of them, burning his right arm something awful. Third degree burns, she knew, and possibly fatal.
One down, six to go.
A quick roll, pulling the Four Point close to her chest, got her out of Guard Number Two's range. The Four Point swung out, zipping through the air, striking Guard Number Two and another. It didn't do major damage to either of them, so she settled for catching the shuriken on rebound and striking again. Three more hits per guard. They both went down.
Four.
Guard Number Four aimed a rifle at her. He relaxed; his arms and the gun seeming to meld together.
He would be an excellent shot, she realized.
She flipped backwards, began to zigzag. Anything to make her movements harder to track and predict.
Guards Number Five and Six brought their pistols up while Guard Number Seven tried to cover Guard Four.
Yeah, like Guard Four was going to get the chance to fire at her!
She raced towards them, the Four Point sliding from her hands. The barrel of Guard Seven's gun clattered to the floor.
Crap. She'd meant to take out the rifle, but whatever. She'd eliminate what she could.
Guards Five and Six were trying to circle around her, she realized. Well, that wasn't happening.
Wait a second. She was wasting time. The police were going to arrive soon, and so would Reeve.
Her gaze turned to the wall. She made for it, stepping on Guard Number Six to reach it. Her foot made contact. She didn't bother trying to plant it— she just kept moving, changing direction about ninety degrees.
She ran sideways along the wall, hauling ass to the stairwell. She yanked the door open, jumped onto the railing and skidded down. The three guards followed.
Three flights of stairs. No elevator. Oh, thank Leviathan for that lack of an elevator. At least they wouldn't be able to get in front of her.
She jumped onto the next rail, sliding down it, too. She jumped rail after rail.
This was really one of the stupidest things she'd ever done. She could have easily called Reeve and asked him to alert the watch dogs that she'd be stopping by.
So why hadn't she?
No time to wonder about that.
One of them was above her and to the side. He was relaxing again, his posture confident.
She didn't hear it. She didn't see it. She didn't know it was coming. It was like running into a brick wall, except this time, the brick wall was running into her.
Just... SLAM. And then... PAIN LIKE FIRE.
And falling.
Her body impacted with the steps. She knew how to fall, and twisted and turned and banged both sides of her rib cage against the stairs. More pain. Now her entire torso hurt. Breathing hurt.
She rolled, picked herself up from the stairs. Oh Leviathan, it hurt to move.
But she had to keep going. Had to.
Yuffie slipped down the stairs, out the door to the hallway, and through the halls. Each step, each breath, was like a Fire3 spell cast on her spine. She managed to get to the back door.
Through the back door, scurrying in the alleys like some sort of rat. Not even a block to the Black Shadow, but it felt like five thousand miles. Fire burned in her back, in both sides. Her shoulders heaved, irritating her body further, and she gasped for breath. The fire in her lungs intensified.
She didn't bother to whimper. Instead, she slipped onto the bike, kicked up the kickstand, and started the Black Shadow.
She almost seemed to go limp as soon as she sat, but she revved the engine and peeled off the street.
The main highways weren't particularly clogged. Then again, this was a Tuesday. But still... Something was wrong...
No, she wasn't going to look a gift Chocobo in the beak. She focused on driving and moving as little as possible.
Gawd, she was never ever driving injured again.
She made a hard left turn, gasping at the pain the turn caused, her eyes flooding with tears at the pain the gasp caused.
She flicked her wrist, fingers tightening. The bike sped up. She had to get to Seventh Heaven as soon as possible, before she passed out from blood loss and crashed and died.
Minutes later, she pulled over beside Seventh Heaven.
"Praise... be to Leviathan..." she murmured as she stumbled up the sidewalk. She nearly tripped as she went up the steps.
The hand that grasped the doorknob, she perceived dimly, was covered in blood.
She stepped into the kitchen, where Cloud was waiting anxiously.
"Yuffie!" He said. "Holy shit, kid, what happened?"
She took as deep a breath as she could. "Don't look (breath) a gift Cho— (breath) —cobo in (breath) the beak."
Yuffie had never felt so proud handing over her loot as she did when she saw the look on his face as he saw the little black box.
"Milkshakes," Cloud said, taking the box from her outstretched hand.
She smiled at him, ignoring the black spots that danced in front of her eyes.
"Do it," she told him as she headed for the infirmary.
She didn't reach it. The blood loss was too much, she was too tired. She collapsed against the stairwell, within view of the medical room Tifa kept fully stocked for situations much like the current one. Her torso ached, and she moved a hand to her back. It came away covered in slippery dark wetness.
Don't worry about it, she told herself. So sleepy... I'll wake up and everything will feel way better and there will be jasmine tea and—
"Yuffie!" The voice was familiar. Deep, sexy. Even if it sounded distinctly worried at the moment. "Yuffie, stay awake."
Familiar. Sexy. Stern. Gorgeous.
Who the hell was taking to her?
"'m 'wake. Wan' go—" she paused, taking in a painful breath, "back 'a sleep."
"Yuffie, sleep is not in your best interests. Can you stand?"
"Did for 'while. Too tired."
"How did you know?"
"She's bleeding heavily. I could smell it," said the stern voice.
"This is my fault... If I hadn't stayed..."
"You leave them alone frequently."
"...she's not a ninja."
WHAT! HOW DARE HE!
Her eyes snapped open. She sucked in a deep, rattling breath and growled, "—am too ninja, fucking Isutanaa!"
Blue worried eyes stared down at her. "No. Yuffie, I was talking about Marlene and Denzel. He says she's not one."
She nodded, even if she wasn't entirely sure what she was nodding about.
"Yuffie. Stand up."
Her head rolled over to face the speaker. Dark hair, red eyes.
Creepy eyes, sorta, but pretty, too.
"Can't," she whimpered.
He scooted over to the other side of her. One hand slid between her back and the wall, clutching at her skin. The other hand, this one cold, so cold, swept underneath her knees. And then she was being lifted into the air, carried through the hallways.
She heard a door slam open. "Cloud! Where the hell is Yuffie!"
"'m here," she mumbled.
"Cloud, do you know where Yuffie is?"
The voice was familiar, but she was so tired...
"Yuffie, stay awake. Don't go to sleep."
"'m tired," she whimpered. "Can' breathe."
It was true. She wasn't breathing halfway normal anymore, and she knew it.
It was worse than the corset she'd worn at that Deathnight party the year before.
The stern voice demanding that she stay awake went silent.
In fact, everything went silent. And dark.