Chapter Six: A Journey Begins

Jagged black pinnacles towered above the narrow ravine, obscuring it from view. A lone, narrow, winding path climbed around precarious pitfalls to lead to the small plateau nestled between the lofty peaks. Though all the paths through the Nibel Mountains were harsh and inhospitable, even those daring enough to pass through the mountains on their way north avoided this sloping trail, and the precise location of the valley quickly faded from the collective memory of the town of Nibelheim.

The reactor had been built sixteen years before, when President Shinra had realized how rich in Mako the Nibel Mountains were. The valley had been the perfect location, even more abundant with densely concentrated Mako than the rest of the area, and in a position that discouraged the local populace from stealing. Even when it was first constructed, only a few of the townspeople of Nibelheim knew how to reach the reactor safely, which was exactly the way President Shinra had wanted it. For there was another reason he had built in such an isolated place. All evidence of the company's darkest secret, the Jenova Project, had been stored in the reactor's innermost room. But now, all the experiments were long dead and gone. Dust coated the walls, but a thin trail of footprints snaked through it, leading deep into the heart of the reactor. After seven long years of stillness, one man had finally entered the dark building. That man was gazing at a broken statue on the floor of the reactor's innermost room, and waiting.

Vincent stood, completely motionless, as he looked at the upper half of the huge angelic statue on the cold stone floor. One wing had been shattered by the impact of the fall, and yet the statue still seemed as majestic as before. Something about its face mystified Vincent, something familiar… He reached down and gently touched the unblemished face, and a stream of images rushed through his head. With a wave of Sephiroth's hand, the chamber burst into flames around him. He slowly strode across a narrow walkway above glowing pools of mako to where a beautifully carved statue of an angel stood, concealing the entrance to the heart of the reactor. But the reactor held no secrets from Sephiroth. With superhuman strength he wrenched the torso of the statue off and flung it into the flames. Ignoring the raging fires all around, he slowly raised his head and a smile appeared across his gaunt and harrowed face. His eyes gleamed with reflections of the flames, and his lips parted, whispering one word.

"Mother."

Startled, Vincent snatched his hand away and stepped back warily. It was here, in this room, that it all started, he realized. No wonder his sense of longing had led him to this place. But Vincent had arrived over three hours ago, and though he searched the entire reactor, he had found nothing. But he knew that what he had sought for so long was nearby.

Footsteps thudded in the halls above, and Vincent silently readied his gun. Somebody had entered the reactor, and chances were it was not a friend. Moving quickly out of the central room, he darted along passageways and hid himself behind a great red tank. In the passage above he heard muffled voices.

"We'll stay here for the night. We can't go outside with the weather the way it is. Let's just get away from the entrance– I don't want to attract any visitors." A few seconds of silence passed, broken only by the heavy footsteps above, drawing rapidly closer.

"He said 'somewhere in the Nibel Mountains', and you didn't ask where?" came another voice. "You've got to be kidding me. This mountain range is huge! We could spend all year here!"

Astonishment began to seep into Vincent as he recognized the first voice. No, it couldn't be, he told himself. That's impossible. Abandoning his cover, Vincent stood up to catch a glimpse of the doorway just as a party of three stepped through it, confirming his guesses. They were clearly just as surprised as he was.

"Hey, that's the freaky guy I was telling you guys about," the blonde Turk said. Elena, Vincent recalled. That was her name. But the other two intrigued him much more than she did. How the hell are they still alive? "He was with Cloud and Tifa at Icicle." She glared at Vincent furiously; the fact that he had witnessed Tifa shoving her down a long snowy hill apparently made him somehow responsible. Reno's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Avalanche scum. What the fuck are you doing here?" The Turk asked, his electromag rod pointed at Vincent. But Vincent's mind was elsewhere. The official records listed them as dead. And they'd be over sixty if they were still alive. "Well?" Receiving no response, Reno nodded to Elena, who drew her handgun, glaring angrily. Turning back to Vincent, Reno continued. "It seems Elena here bears you a personal grudge. I don't know who you are, but if you've been associating with Avalanche then you're a criminal and a terrorist. So unless you want to die, I'd advise getting the fuck out of here."

But Vincent had no time to reply, for at that moment one of the great red tanks at the back of the room burst open. Mist bellowed out from the broken capsule, and an inhuman shriek echoed from within. The first thing that struck Vincent about the creature that emerged from the mist was that it was human, or at least once had been. Though it stood hunched over, it was as tall as an upright man, and its arms were lean and muscular. Long years of imprisonment in the deserted facility had worn away at all excess body fat, and the creature's ribs stuck out visibly through its deathly pale flesh. But even in such a grossly distorted body, distinctly human eyes peered from sunken sockets, as if it was searching for a way out of its misery. And it was not the only one. Two more hisses of compressed air escaping sounded from other parts of the chamber, and two other mutants emerged from their long sleep. Lumps of red flesh stuck out, seemingly at random, from the body of an enormous headless brute. The other's relatively ordinary body was altered by ash-grey skin, great leathery wings beneath its arms, and unearthly glowing eyes.

Reno spun around, rod now aimed at the barely human creatures that had emerged from their holding cells. Rude's shotgun was pointed warily at the headless creature, which was groping blindly around the room, gargantuan arms flailing. Vincent's right hand gripped the Death Penalty firmly, ready to fire at the slightest move from the winged beast. Then from the back of the room Elena fired twice, and the bullets streaked towards the first of the monsters at speeds lethal to an ordinary human. With incredible reflexes the creature leapt to the side, landing lightly on both feet and pausing only momentarily before flinging itself at the Turks in a frenzied attempt to escape from the reactor.

Vincent had only instants before the creature reached the mercenaries, but he had been a trained marksman before Elena was born, and his shot hit its mark perfectly. The bullet tore through the mutant's protruding ribs and embedded itself in a steel wall beyond. And then the sensation hit him, overwhelmed him, and Vincent fell to his knees. He heard it calling to him, a part of him, pulling him deeper into the mountains to be complete once again.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the deformed creature collide with Reno, arms clawing wildly, scrambling towards the door as blood gushed freely from the wound in its side. They feel it too, Vincent realized. Whatever is calling me is calling those creatures as well. No! He thought as he rose to his feet, his body moving of his own accord. I must resist! The sounds of gunfire reached his ears as if he were hundreds of feet away. The creature grappling with Reno had pinned the Turk's arms to the floor, and was swiping at his face with its razor-sharp claws. With the last of his strength, Vincent fired one shot at the two figures, so close together that a slight error would kill the wrong one. His bullet buried itself in the creature's skull, he noticed with satisfaction, and fell to the floor, shaking violently.

Reno struggled to reach the electromag rod, just inches from his grip, but could not move his arm. Panicking, he attempted to fling the creature off him, but its powerful legs had pinned him to the floor. Its claws struck his face once, leaving a bloody gash on his cheek, and Reno realized that the next one would take his eye out. All he could do was cringe away as the creature raised its other claw– and it fell dead on top of him.

Shaking, Reno pushed the corpse over and saw blood oozing from a wound in the back of the mutant's head. Jesus Christ! Two inches to the left and I'd be the dead one, he realized in amazement. Rude? Elena? Both had good aim, but he doubted either would be daring enough to take such a risk. Besides, he realized, as he looked around the room, they have problems of their own. With growing disbelief, his eyes turned to the unidentified member of Avalanche, whose shaking hand still held a pistol aimed in his direction.

"Damn, that thing was fast," Elena complained, coming up behind him. "It got away, but it won't make it far with that wound I gave it," she added with a touch of pride. Rude stood over the corpse of the headless mutant, but was gazing in astonishment at the Avalanche member, who lay on the floor, deathly pale and sweating like crazy. He began to slowly walk over to Reno, and Reno could tell that the same thought was running through both of their minds. Ignoring Elena, Reno addressed his fellow veteran.

"You see that?"

"Yeah. And the shot he took when the thing was jumping hit it dead on. I've never seen such aim since…"

There was no need for him to finish his sentence. Nodding, Reno removed the strips of black and red cloth wound around the unconscious man's face.

"Those eyes," Rude muttered. "It is him."

"What the hell's going on here?" Elena demanded, but was ignored completely.

"Jesus Christ…" Reno whispered. "Vincent…"

Vincent's red eyes suddenly focused in on Reno and he leapt back in astonishment.

"What the hell are you doing so close to my face? Stay away from me!" Vincent breathed, barely audibly. Smiling, Reno obeyed.

"It's good to have you back with us, sir."

Slowly, Vincent pulled himself to his feet. Rude was the first to venture to ask a question.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Rude?"

"How the hell are you still alive?" Vincent paused momentarily.

"I could ask the same of you. You should both be over sixty by now. And I'm not your squad leader anymore. Just call me Vincent."

"Will somebody please explain–"

"Shut up, Elena," Reno said, eager to question Vincent more. The former Turk looked up with a wry smile, an expression that rarely crossed his face.

"You're picking up some of my traits. Now, there are many things I must ponder. We will talk in the morning." Without another word, he strode off into an adjacent room.

"Now will somebody tell me what's going on?" Elena asked. Reno grudgingly turned around and began to explain.

"I was born in Midgar in the year 1973, and–"

"Hold on," Elena cut in. "When?"

"1973." Reno repeated. "Sixty years ago."

"Yeah, sure, real funny. Now just shut up and tell me what really–"

"No, you shut up. You wanted to know what's going on, so just shut up and listen." Reno took a deep breath. "I'll spare you the details of my childhood; It's not my favorite subject of conversation. I was recruited for the Turks when I was nineteen, and spent three years in training– it was a lot different back then. There were over a hundred Turks, and separate training stations in every sector. Only the top ten percent of each class made the cut. That's where I met Rude. We were assigned to a squad led by Vincent. He was a crazy bastard, but he was the best sharpshooter I've ever seen, and I kinda liked him. After two years, Vincent was sent to Nibelheim to work for Hojo, that fucking madman, where he disappeared completely. Rude and I went to Nibelheim in search of him. We found him in the Shinra Mansion with a bullet wound in his chest, and before we could do anything about it, Hojo had his gun to my head. He led us into a room in the basement and locked us in a pair of strange-looking tanks. The next thing I remember was waking up thirty years later when Shinra finally realized where the hell we were. They never found Vincent's body, but we saw the bullet hole; I don't know how he could have survived. Anyways, they assigned us to Tseng's squad, and you know the rest."

A long silence followed these words, during which Elena looked over at Rude to confirm the verity of Reno's story. The bald Turk simply nodded gravely.

"And how come I never heard about any of this?" she asked finally.

"Tseng knew, and the President knew. To everybody else we were new recruits. Not surprising, otherwise the bastards would have had to fire Hojo."

"I can't believe the president didn't fire him. How could he let Hojo work for him knowing what he had done?"

"Get used to it, Elena. Shinra is like that. They kept Hojo around because they didn't give a shit about what he'd done. They just wanted the money they'd get off his twisted experiments. The only reason they revived us in the first place was cause they needed more Turks after losing so many in the Wutai War."

"Go get some sleep, Elena. The storm should be cleared up by tomorrow," Rude said suddenly. Elena nodded and retreated into a side chamber. Reno turned to his long-time squad member.

"What do you think of him?" he said, voicing the question that he knew Rude was also thinking.

"I don't know what happened to him in the past thirty-seven years, but it has only made him more frightening. But his aim is the same as ever. We could use a guy like him, Reno."

"I know. I'm not against asking him to rejoin the Turks. It's just I don't know if he wants to, that's all." A long pause followed.

"We can see in the morning, I guess," Rude said finally. "Go to sleep, Reno. I'll stay here and make sure nothing else comes out of these tanks." But as Reno sprawled out in the corner of an adjacent room minutes later, he found his mind was still haunted by memories, memories of the days when everything was simpler, when he had nothing to worry about except the possibility of getting shot on a mission. Now, it seemed there were so many more things to worry about, so many more things that could be fatal. A peal of thunder sounded in the distance, followed by the cry of an enraged beast, and Reno shivered and turned over. Sleep would be a long time coming.

The night air cool against her skin, Tifa ran on through the silent streets of Neo-Midgar, oblivious to the soft snowflakes falling gently onto her back. Nearly everybody was now indoors, not wanting to be associated with the assassination of an important member of the Shinra administration, but Soldiers still combed the alleys, searching for any trace of the fugitives. Tifa was by now hopelessly lost in the tangle of Neo-Midgar's back alleys, for though the northern reaches of the city had been planned in a perfect grid, buildings and avenues had been placed more and more haphazardly as the designers had drawn farther away from the heart of Neo-Midgar. Tifa ran down alleys at random, and as she did, the shouts and footsteps of the Soldiers grew louder. But Tifa raced forward, for with each step she took grew the feeling that she was drawing closer to her goal.

Light flooded the narrow alley as two Soldiers stepped out of an adjacent street, flashlights pointed directly at her face.

"Stop, woman!" one of them yelled, but before he had a chance to say anything else, Tifa was upon him, knocking the wind out of him with one precise blow to his stomach. Her second assailant barely had a chance to draw his sword before her kick caught him in the face. He stumbled backward from the force of the blow, blood streaming from his broken nose. Wasting no more time, she ran onward, then stopped suddenly as she entered a larger street and took in the scene around her.

The corpses of more than twenty Soldiers littered the road, lying in a broken circle around an object in the middle of the intersection. As Tifa approached it, she saw that it was a blood-covered sword, a full five feet long and six inches wide. Only those training to become high-ranking Soldiers were instructed in the use of these blades, Tifa realized with growing horror. And a Soldier would have no reason to slaughter so many of his comrades, especially on a night like this. No, there could only be one explanation: Cloud had been here. Dimly aware of Soldiers flocking into the street from all sides, Tifa realized she had been completely surrounded.

"You've got no hope of survival if ya resist, girl. Just put yer hands over yer head and nobody gets hurt, 'kay?" the leader of the group said cautiously, aware of what Tifa had done to his companions. Numbly Tifa obeyed his orders. She could not survive against such odds, and she suddenly felt that it did not matter. Cloud promised that he would protect me that night at the well, she could not stop herself from thinking. And now I have failed to protect him when he needs me the most.

"There's three more of 'em still out there, Fred. This is one helluva busy night," she heard one Soldier comment to another as they led her to an armored vehicle parked several streets away. Three more, Tifa thought grimly. There's no way they could have found Schwartzberg, so that leaves only one of the others out there with Cloud. I failed to stop him. All I can do now is hope somebody else can. The door of the police van closed with a click, and the vehicle drove off silently into the inky blackness.

"Hey! Get up! Your trial's beginning."

As Tifa's eyes adjusted to the light streaming into the dark cell, she saw the silhouette of a bulky Soldier framed in the doorway. Fear and uncertainty had kept her awake for hours in the dark chamber, but fatigue had eventually won out. Tifa pushed herself to her feet without protest, squinting as she stepped out into the hallway. Soon another Soldier joined them, followed by Cid, whose right hand was covered in a bloody cloth. As they reached the elevator, Tifa looked through the window to find that the sun had risen and it had been a full day since she woke up, anticipating the events to come. And now, only a day later, her life had been turned upside down. Cloud was missing, Shera was dead, and she and Cid were prisoners of the same man who had invited them to a reunion only days earlier.

Tifa snapped out of her thoughts and realized that she had followed the guard out of the elevator and up the wide, red-carpeted stairs to Reeve's office. Tifa knew immediately that it was not going to be an ordinary trial. Reeve sat behind his large desk, flanked by several minor officials and Luke Dorgonin, the captain of the Shinra police force. Dorgonin was a huge brute of a man, and Cloud had often told her that he did not trust the captain. Now it seemed that he was one of the people whom Reeve trusted the most. But all thoughts of the police officer vanished when she saw the person sitting to Reeve's right. Adams? What was she doing there? Tifa expected her to be either on the run or a fellow prisoner, not one of Reeve's confidents. She must have found some way to convince Reeve that she's not responsible, Tifa thought. Well, that means that he's not entirely blind to reason. If she could do it, we might be able to. Reeve cleared his throat and spoke, his voice still as cold and heartless as it had been the day before.

"You have been brought here to make an appeal to me and my colleagues. You are both being charged with attempted assassination and the death of Alexander Preston. I have held doubts about your loyalty for some time now. Yesterday's conference was only a test. There I discovered that every one of you holds doubts about my ability to lead, and have often questioned my authority. Judy has already proven her innocence. You are being granted this opportunity to speak because you were once my friends and companions. Be grateful."

Tifa saw a flash of despair cross Reeve's face, but he regained his stony demeanor in an instant. But still, Tifa found her hope renewed. The old Reeve was not all gone. She would just have to get through to the man who hid behind his expressionless mask. But before she even had a chance to speak, Cid strode across the narrow distance that separated the two prisoners from the officials. He leaned over the desk and grabbed Reeve by the suit collar, hoisting him up to eye level. His voice echoed through the otherwise silent chamber.

"What the hell has gotten into you, John?"

The assembly was beginning to recover from its initial shock at Cid's action. The officials were murmuring among themselves in surprise. At the back of the room, the guards began to advance towards Cid. But Reeve was still motionless with astonishment. Adams seemed about to say something, but Cid continued, giving her no chance to speak.

"I don't know who or what is influencing you, but I know something is. You saved our lives in the Temple of the Ancients, and you helped save thousands of innocent lives in Midgar. You've successfully rebuilt Shinra, which most people thought was impossible. And this is not you, John. The John Reeve I knew would never have accused his companions, his friends, of trying to kill him. Which one–"

But Cid got no further, for the Soldiers were upon him, pulling him backwards and knocking him to the ground in an instant. Dorgonin covered the office in two strides, and his handgun was at Cid's temple before Tifa could react. The captain's voice boomed out across the room.

"Get up." Complete silence fell over the chamber, and no movement could be heard other than Reeve, who had fallen backwards out of Cid's grasp, slowly pulling himself to his feet. Cid stood up slowly. The captain motioned for his prisoner to begin walking. Tifa stood motionless, unable to help in any way, for what seemed like an eternity, as she watched Cid being led from the room.

"Stop."

Reeve's command took the entire room by surprise. Cid's bowed head snapped up, and everybody in the chamber was speechless. Tifa could hardly believe what she had just heard. Reeve continued bitterly.

"I've made some horrible mistakes. Where are they, Cid? Where are the others? Captain, call off your men before anybody is hurt. We need to find whoever's really responsible for all this."

Tifa thought she saw a flash of disdain cross the massive policeman's face as he strode out of the room, but it was gone so quickly, replaced with a blank expression, that she wondered whether she had only imagined it. She put it out of her mind, though. There were more important things at stake than a policeman's loyalty.

"I know where Schwartzberg is," she put in quickly. "I'll go get him."

"You four!" Reeve said instantly, gesturing to a group of Soldiers. "Escort this lady to wherever she tells you to go. And you," he said to Cid, "need to get that hand cleaned up. We can find the others when Tifa and Schwartzberg return."

Several minutes later, Tifa stepped out of a police van parked in front of her house. Shivering against the icy wind that still persisted although the snowfall had long since ceased, she told the Soldiers to wait in the van and darted inside. Shutting the door firmly behind her, she looked around and found the room completely ransacked. Oh well. She hadn't expected the Soldiers to ignore it.

"Anton?" she called out, looking around anxiously at the wrecked furniture. Complete silence greeted her. He might have fallen asleep down there, she reassured herself. It has been more than seven hours since he went down there. She walked over to the door and pulled it open, revealing a terrible sight.

Schwartzberg lay against the far wall, his mouth and eyes frozen in an expression of sheer terror. A bloody gash ran across his chest, and Tifa knew of only one weapon that could leave such a huge mark. She shut her eyes tight, unable to accept such a gruesome spectacle, but nothing changed when she opened them again, confirming the reality of the situation.

"No," she whispered to herself, shaking her head. This is impossible, she thought. Only one man knows of this room, and that is…Cloud. Spinning around, Tifa scanned the room. It was here that she and Cloud had stored all their equipment from their adventures seven years ago. She frantically looked over at the closet in which Cloud's Ultima Weapon had rested over the years, and all she saw was an open door and an empty space where the sword should have been. Desperately, she turned to the materia chest, only to find that it too was empty. Nobody could use Cloud's sword without his years of diligent training. Nobody but Cloud could have found the room in the first place. She had arrived too late. Cloud was gone. And judging from the equipment he had taken, he intended it to stay that way.

Tifa had staggered into the office, tears flowing down her face and bawling incomprehensibly. Reeve had straightaway realized how exhausted she was, and sent her to get some rest and change into clean clothes. Cid had already guessed that the news she bore was not going to be good. And when she had finally related it, Cid's worst fears and more had been confirmed.

"Are you sure it was Cloud?" Reeve asked for the third time, unable to believe what he was hearing.

"Nobody else could have known where the room was. But it's not his fault. Somebody or something is controlling him."

Cid and Reeve nodded gravely; they had both seen Cloud lose control of his body in the Temple of the Ancients and the Crater. Cid thought that kind of behavior should have stopped with the death of Sephiroth, but apparently it still persisted. He broke the heavy silence that had descended on the group.

"And what exactly did he take with him?"

"His sword, and all the materia. And enough food to last him a week."

Cid sighed and shook his head slowly. There's no denying it, he thought. Cloud's gone, and whoever's controlling him intends it to be a long trip. His thoughts were interrupted by Adams's entrance into the room.

"Excuse me, sir," she said to Reeve. "We have no leads on Mr. Strife, but we do have some clues regarding Warrington's location. Apparently, some camera-crazy tourist recognized him from the unveiling and took some pictures." She handed a thin envelope to Reeve, who quickly opened it and scanned its contents.

"He's getting into a helicopter," he said after a moment's pause. "And flying south. Junon."

"There can be no clearer sign, sir. Avoiding the patrols is one thing, but fleeing the city is another altogether." Reeve nodded.

"Send two shuttles of Soldiers to Junon to arrest him, Judy. Then report back to me."

As Adams left the room, Cid glanced at the clock and pulled himself to his feet.

"We can't stay around much longer, John. With each hour we wait, Cloud gets farther and farther away from us. Tifa and I have to be getting on our way."

Reeve nodded and hurried down the stairs, but Tifa stayed next to Cid, her expression an anxious frown.

"Cid," she asked, "What about Shera?"

"She wouldn't have wanted some big party attended by people she didn't even know. I'll see to her myself."

Half an hour later, having been driven to the edge of Neo-Midgar, away from the noise and bustle of the city, Cid stepped out of the Shinra taxi with Shera's body in his arms and a heavy sack over his shoulder. The driver gave him a strange look as he drove away, and Cid did not blame him. A silent man carrying a body wrapped in a white shroud and a bundle of sticks was hardly his average customer. Cid slowly began to set up all the materials he had brought. When Shera's body finally lay on the pile of dried sticks and logs, Cid gazed up into the clear, open sky, oblivious to the wind.

Flight, Cid recalled. It was flight that brought us together; our common passion. But I was always busy, or there wasn't enough room in the plane; You were always stuck making tea for guests while I was out in the sky, experiencing the ultimate thrill. But now I will make it up to you, Shera. Bowing his head, he lit the pyre. The flames consumed the wood along with her lifeless body in moments. Cid looked up again to see threads of white smoke drifting up into the sky aimlessly, slowly weaving their way higher and higher until they disappeared from view. He stood watching the spot where the smoke had vanished for a minute, then turned and slowly strode back to the city, where smoke from the factories would soon blot out the existence of his tiny funeral pyre forever.

While Cid was gone, Tifa had seen to everything. She had packed more than enough food for Cid and herself, and Reeve had supplied materia in case of danger. By the time Cid had returned, they were set to go.

"Right," said Reeve. "I'll get a man to drive you to the edge of the city." He turned as if to leave, but Tifa could tell that he wanted to say something else. "Can I come with you guys?" he asked finally.

"You still have Cait Sith hidden in a closet somewhere, then?" Cid asked, smiling. "Sure, if you can get him powered up quick enough, we'd be happy to–"

"No, I mean me. The real me," Reeve interrupted him. Cid and Tifa looked at him in surprise. "It's my fault he left; you would have been able to stop him if you weren't on the run from my Soldiers," Reeve continued bitterly. "I just want to help set things right. Judy and Dorgonin can run the company and watch Midgar while I'm gone."

Cid nodded slowly, and Tifa could tell why he had hesitated. There was no telling where Cloud could lead them, and if worst came to worst, Reeve would be helpless. But then again, thought Tifa, if this turns into a dangerous mission, judging by the other times somebody took control of Cloud's body, Reeve won't be the only one with a low chance of survival. She quickly cleared her throat and broke the awkward silence that had settled over the group.

"Let's go then." The two men nodded grimly, and they set off. The journey has begun, thought Tifa, And nobody knows how or where it will end. We can only hope. It was not a comforting thought.

Maxwell appeared with a flash in the cold steel room, and slowly drew himself to his feet. Grimacing, he contemplated the results of his excursion. Most of it had been successful, but his exit had hardly been graceful, and it would complicate his plans. Cosmo Canyon would soon be taken, and with the huge materia in his hands, the rest of the continent would fall quickly. The seeds of rebellion had been sown in Wutai, and his success in the east continent would depend on how much of his plan that damn Cid Highwind would manage to mess up. He scowled as he looked down at his tattered, bloody coat sleeve. The next time I encounter that bastard, Maxwell vowed, he's going to die.

Shoving the door open, Maxwell strode down the silent corridors, thinking about his day. His morning visit to the ruins of Midgar had reminded him of his own childhood in the city, over twenty-five years ago. The sole heir to the wealthy businessman Thomas Maxwell's fortunes, he had attended all the best and most competitive schools in Midgar, and excelled in all of them without even trying, no matter how hard his teachers worked him. Some of them had even retired out of sheer frustration. Bored with his effortless success, Maxwell had enrolled in combat training, sure that he would finally meet his match in the rigorous fighting lessons. But even there he quickly mastered everything he was taught, soon surpassing his teachers. By the age of eighteen, Maxwell had come to the conclusion that he was simply superior to all the others, the poor fools who sweated over tasks that came naturally to him. Maxwell's mother had died when he was ten, leaving him with a distant father who hardly noticed his son's considerable achievements. The young Warren Maxwell could see right through the man, could see his many faults and flaws, and knew that he deserved power much more than his "father" did. For Maxwell knew something even his prestigious father did not: he was not truly Thomas Maxwell's son. He had heard his mother's whispered phone conversation with her secret lover long after she thought he was asleep, when her husband was still at work, a year before her death. Ever since that day, he had searched in vain for his true father, whom his adolescent mind told him would be a genius like himself, but abandoned the search at the age of twenty, when a freak "accident" killed Thomas Maxwell, leaving him wealth only matched by that of the president and some of the more prominent members of his cabinet. Maxwell's newfound fortune soon put all thoughts about his father out of his mind. But it still made him proud to think that, though it had happened twenty-nine years after he first made the promise, he had finally fulfilled his childhood vow.

Maxwell was pulled out of his memories as he heard a noise outside the heavy metal door. Perhaps it's the mercenaries, he thought as he crossed over to the door to open it. But he was immediately proven wrong by the woman who stood in front of him, not shivering against the frozen winds that howled around her. Short in stature, her skin seemed to emit a pale glow, and though her face was unwrinkled and her raven-black hair contained no grey strands, she seemed somehow older than her youthful features revealed. And suddenly Maxwell recognized her. It should have been obvious that she would be the first to arrive. So, the Great Sephiroth's at work again, he thought with a smile. It's started now, Maxwell realized, and could not hide a shiver. She is the first, and soon there will be others. There's no reconsidering, no going back. For better or worse, the plan is in motion.