Ch. 3 Shogun

Moe's bar still had its original occupants, the bums without jobs, and Vincent sat down feeling just like them. 'Hopefully for the last time though,' he thought as he waited for Moe to see him. He was washing a dirty mug and talking to a man in a suit that Vincent hadn't noticed before. Moe looked very intent as he subconsciously scrubbed the same spot on the mug over and over again. Finally the man stood up, put an envelope on the table and left out just as quietly as his presence was in the bar. Vincent glanced at him as he walked by and saw that his features were sharp and did not look like a bum without a job. In fact, he looked very wealthy, just like the type that was allowed to enter Shinra's building.

Vincent then glanced forward again as he noticed that Moe was approaching him.

"How did it go?"

"Lousy, wouldn't even let me in the front door."

"I ain't surprised, you's looks like a bum, only high class pricks get at work der."

"Well Moe, that's my solution, all I got to do is have a suit like that guy who just left and they automatically assume that I am a high class prick as you put it. Who was that guy anyway, and what's in that envelope that he gave you?"

Suddenly a dark shadow crossed Moe's face that Vincent had never seen before. He looked sternly in Vincent's eyes and said harshly, "He was nobody and he gave me nothing." Vincent just sat there, confused and stunned by the sudden change in his friend's appearance and tone. He had obviously asked a question he wasn't suppose to ask. Vincent looked down and stared at the bar for a second or two, nervously darting his eyes around not knowing what to do. Moe saw this and lightened up a little.

"He's a friend of a friend," Moe said plainly.

"Okay."

"So anyway, how ya gonna get dis suit, you couldn't get a job for a week, I'm telling ya, just go work at da factory."

"For the last time Moe, I wouldn't last two minutes in that hell hole."

"Listen kid, you's already in a hell hole, but at least in that hell hole you's be getting paid. You ain't gotta make a career outta it. Just go till you's got your money for da suit." Vincent absorbed this revelation slowly. Who am I trying to kid, I haven't got any experience in anything but farming, and no one will take me except Shogun. I have no choice.

"Yeah your right Moe, I guess I'll give it a shot."

"Smart choice kid."

The next day Vincent reported to work at 4:00 AM. He shuffled into the work room with 200 other men. He felt clogged in like an ant. Everyone shuffled in with the same grim look on their face, and they all did the same half hearted insert of their time card into the check in box. The horn sounded loudly like a fore bringer of doom, and everyone responded by shuffling instinctively to the large factory floor. The supervisor was dressed in a clean long sleeve shirt with a tie. He stood up at the top floor, like a king at his podium.

"Start the line!" he shouted from a loud speaker and a heavy sound came from all directions. Huge nuts and bolts started to rattle as this gray snake came to life. A never ceasing humming droned in the background that cut out all the background sounds and deafened Vincent. The men were sweaty and dirty as the machines began to disperse heat into the room. Smog was coming out of almost every crevice of the mechanical beast.

Vincent started coughing and sweating. So did several other new guys. Vincent had reported to training with them yesterday. All of them were put into a white classroom with motivational posters like "Work professionally, get professional results" and they signed a contract that was a mile long. Vincent didn't understand anything of it and he didn't care to ask, all he cared that he was finally getting paid. And if the classroom looked clean, maybe the factory floor might be as well. But his whole reality was shifted into perspective when he saw the entrance of the dingy, dilapidated building.

The night was dark and cold, Vincent walked up with a row of other misfits toward the lot. A security guard with a Shogun Corporate logo on his shoulder patch was asleep at his post. His stand had the only light in the whole lot. The lights from the city showed the outline of the building. It was massive and cold. As he walked up toward the entrance, following everyone else because he didn't know where to go, he began to see the Shogun logo, "The Company for Today." It was dirt worn and barely showed through its white back drop.

Then the doors were opened at the sound of a siren. The night shift occupants slowly walked out. Their details were obscured by the darkness but they had a tired aura. They were all slumped down and dragging their feet in a collective tired wave trying to go away from the building. Vincent imagined himself doing this at the end of his shift. He walked in and a sudden rush of hot air was a sudden relief from the cold morning air but then quickly became a heavy burden. He shuffled with the rest toward the factory floor. He passed the break room which was a dingy table and several seats surrounding it. The walls were bare except for a clock and a guard with the same company logo on his shoulder that the security guard had. But he was armed. I wonder why, Vincent thought.

Then he proceeded to slide his card, which he received with his orientation package, to check in and then walked into the factory floor. It was as dirty as the building. A rat scurried past his feet and he smelled a heavy sulfur fume coming from the vents. He stared coughing. Then the roar started and he was bumped by a guard and he pointed with his shotgun at his station. Now I know why they are armed, to stop riots. He walked over toward the conveyer belt. Since he was young and strong, he was grouped together with the other young men who were assigned heavy labor. He was supposed to lift the heavy hoods of the cars from one conveyer belt to the other. They couldn't fit on the small curve section of the conveyer belt and it was cheaper to hire cheap labor then construct a new belt connecting the two. Vincent didn't think much of the task until he lifted one up. It weighed a ton and took several people to lift it. His shoulders and arms were already hurting more then he could remember in the first half hour. And that is how the next 12 hours passed. Halfway through he was allowed a ten minute break to eat his lunch until the guard told everyone to leave with his shotgun pointed at the exit. They all had different break shifts because the break room was so small and that was determined by position and seniority. Obviously all the supervisors had the longest break and had access to the executive break room. Guards the next longest and they had their own break room, and then the laborers. The working would start again as endless hoods and other extremely greasy and heavy objects came through the conveyer belt.

Finally, the work horn sounded signaling the end of his shift. Vincent was covered in sweat and grease as he left. He was exhausted and drained to the point of passing out. All he wanted to do was fall asleep. He walked out side; the air was bone chilling cold as gusts of wind froze his body that was under extreme heat all day. He dragged his feet as his shoulders slumped tiredly. He remembered this morning and let out a mental whimper as he thought about tomorrow.

Things would continue like this everyday of the week for a month. Vincent would go to work, then come back to his apartment and pass out. Then wake up barely rested and repeat the process. He made just enough to survive and that is what it felt like, just surviving. And nobody wants to just survive.

One morning, Vincent woke up in a coat of cold sweat. He looked at the time and saw that it was 2 in the morning. If I go back to sleep I can still get a decent 2 hours in. But Vincent kept turning in his sleep. The cold was penetrating his skin and hitting his nerves like a dagger. All night in the cold, and all day in the sweltering heat of that hellhole. Those extremes were beginning to wear Vincent down to a nub. Finally Vincent gave up trying to sleep after an hour of tossing and turning. Going to sleep would only make him feel a thousand times worse when he woke up. So he put on his dirty overalls that haven't been cleaned in a week or so. The stench of oil and dirt were a usual thing that he didn't even notice it anymore, in fact it blended him in more with the crowd more so then it isolated him. He looked out at the same drab, black sky he woke up to every morning. The streets were dimly lit by street lights and empty except for the darkness. He then went to the same place when he felt down in the dumps, Moe's.

He stumbled out tiredly and his eyes were barely open. His thin slits saw the same things that he saw for the past miserable weeks. He stepped outside and felt the cold air sting his skin. He walked steadily, not thinking, toward the bar. But something was different; there was a vacuum there that was usually filled with the clatter of urban noises. Usually there were plenty of homeless planted on the curb, solicitors, and vagrants populating the streets. But for the first time since Vincent was in Old Midgar, there was silence and emptiness. He walked, eerily calmed by this lack of noise and people, toward Moe's and saw that it was opened. He poked his head in to see if Moe was actually open or just closing shop. The lights of the bar were on but no one was inside. This worried Vincent some because he had never seen Moe leave his bar unattended before. The bar was empty except for an empty shot glass. He walked deeper into the bar. Everything was silent except for a muffled sound coming behind a door in the back corner. Funny, I don't remember a door being there. Then he heard foot steps coming out the door. Instinctively he hid behind the bar out of sight. I don't know what's going on, but I don't wanna get caught in the middle of something.

Vincent peered through a small creek in the wooden bar, it was small enough to see the bottom half of the bar. He saw two men walking. He recognized Moe's voice, but never heard the other man's.

"Don't worry, I'll clean up things here, next time, at least call ahead of time. This was done very sloppy and I'm sure da king ain't gonna be happy," Moe said.

The other man said nothing. He just stood there for a moment and then walked out silently. The other man and Moe's shoes were covered in blood.