Disclaimer: you know the drill…the trademarked stuff isn't mine but the storyline is…yada yada…please R&R!
chap 3
The Lionheart clattered to the stony ground as Squall, almost in shock, stared blankly down at the pale purple beast that held his right side in its jagged-toothed vice of a mouth. Dead, his numb mind whispered. Dead...I'm dead.
No! His rebellious side screamed back. Spitting a mouthful of fresh blood into the dog's eyes he grabbed both sides of the thing's massive jaws and tried to pry them apart. The shield responded by clamping down harder. White-hot sheets of pain shot through his body, paralyzing all they struck; what was left of Squall's strength fled.
Aerith fought on, struggling forward. She was tired from her magic, exhausted from trying to bash her way through the endless troop of shadows between her and Squall. As hard as she fought, she was making no headway. When she got to him--if she got to him--it might already be too late...
Like divine retribution a hail of fiery rocks came raining down from the sky, smashing several shadows and knocking the Defender into a dazed sprawl. The massive, fiery projectiles decimated the Heartless on contact, though the ground and humans within range remained untouched. A large scraping noise drew Aerith's attention upward as well. One of the floating platforms, its blue electrical current vibrantly active, was lowering rapidly directly to her right. "Meteorain?" she whispered, watching the falling missiles that harmed nothing but the evil around her, and suddenly it all made sense.
Cloud--the fourth and last of their group of survivors-- entered the battle with all the subtlety of a charging lion. He resembled one as well, violently blonde hair and set scowl lending him the air of an animal. His enormous sword sent a dozen Heartless toppling over the side of the precipice with one wide-arced swing. Electric blue eyes blazing, he looked at the girls even as he cleared Aerith's path to the floating platform.
"Go," was all he said. A distant droning noise became apparent as Yuffie, suddenly freed from her paralysis, leapt up onto the platform and out of harm's immediate path.
"Squall," Aerith muttered stubbornly, but she needn't have bothered. Across the battlefield where the Defender lay sprawled still, the youth had retaken a hold of the dog-shield's jaws. With a yell of effort, he tore the thing's teeth out of his side. It was less than a breath, though, before he collapsed, accompanied by a deluge of crimson against the sheer white of his shirt. Pocketing her staff as it snapped back to palm-sized, Aerith made to break for his side. Cloud's strong hand caught her shoulder and pulled her back.
"I'll get him. Get on the platform." Hesitating for another second, she finally nodded and followed Yuffie up onto the automated lift. Cloud didn't falter in the least, guillotining a shadow that was making to tail her as he launched back into the fray.
Across the battlefield, Squall tried to get to his feet only to fall, swaying, back down to one knee. The shadows weren't aware he was still alive, being too concerned with a certain blonde's blade to have noticed. Despite Cloud's advantage in technique over the monsters, Squall knew that he too had to be finding that shear style and power held no candle to shear advantage of number.
"Damn it." Squall searched for his gunblade but was failing: his hand shook violently as he felt around him, and his vision kept blurring. Trying diligently, though, he found the blade lying only a few feet away. The Lionheart was glowing a steady blue, its entire length of crafted steel humming with contained power. The youth drug it towards him, immediately taking a little comfort in having it back, clasping the smooth leather hilt in his left hand. His right was serving as the feeble barrier between consciousness and letting more of his essence pour out onto the pavement.
Lifting the gunblade, Squall felt the sword tingling. Truthfully its movement was more like a pulsation, a driving rhythm skipping to end in sync with his rapid heartbeat. Watching Cloud fight through the undulating lines in his sight, he began to wonder... It hadn't worked before, but perhaps then he hadn't been trying hard enough…Perhaps he hadn't been hurt enough to push himself--and his weapon--over that final brink...
To Hell with it, Squall mused. If blood pouring from his side wasn't enough to pull it off, nothing was. Arm wavering as he raised the glittering Lionheart to a level position, he released the safety on the pistol mechanism.
Cloud sent the Buster sword through three more shadow Heartless, recovering the energy of the blade's downswing to spin into a reverse uppercut that took two more. He had ceased to savor that telltale 'pop' and shockwave that came as he eradicated more of the twisted creatures many months before. Similarly the sweat gleaning on his forehead, arms, and inside his gloves was all the messenger he needed: he was tiring. Too many, his mind told him, for the thousandth time. Too damn many. He was good, true, but he had to get to Squall and back to the platform quickly and it did not seem that the shadows were willing to permit that.
It was the snarl that alerted him to another threat, the same way that it had alerted Squall.
Okay, I fixed the age thing. Not sure how you guys know that, but okay!