Chapter 5

Really, the 'start a fire as a distraction' trick was pretty old hat.

Rosso was surprised that it had worked.

Huddled on the green tiled roof of a Wutaian house and panting in a desperate attempt to force air into her tortured lungs, though, she wasn't inclined to say it was due to her good luck. Even as short a battle as it was, it had worn her out. There was no doubt in her mind: those two had to have been Reno and Rude, two of the top agents in the Turks.

She was still angry at herself for running away, though, and quickly decided to focus on something else to banish those unwelcome thoughts. Her first priority was to get out of Wutai. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time: hide out as far away from Midgar as she could get, where the locals were likely to be hostile to any foreigners snooping around. Especially Shin-ra foreigners. But, someone had to have seen her get on the boat. This was inconvenient, because it meant they were probably going to scour the place before she could find a spot to hide out in. She would need to find some other place to lay low.

Rosso was dragged out of her thoughts by the sudden sound of fabric whipping in the wind. Turning to the source of the noise, she saw what appeared to be be a tattered crimson cloak floating through the air of its own volition...and it was coming right towards her.

Something about the cloak seemed familiar, and her thoughts clicked mere seconds before the first shot rang out: Valentine!

If Vincent had still possessed a mouth to do so with, he would have scowled. Rosso had picked up on him quicker than expected, spoiling his first shot as she dove for the cover of a nearby chimney. The roof tiles where she had been standing shattered into so much ceramic dust as one of the high-velocity rounds Cerberus struck home.

Vincent was proud of the gun. Cerberus was something he had made with his own two hands, customized to his specifications from plans he had acquired as a Turk. The gun was planned to be issued to all members of the organization, but production proved too difficult and the prototypes were melted down for scrap. Vincent's was, so far as he knew, the only one in existence. The revolver had a seperate six-round cylinder for each barrel, each one of which capable of being detached and replaced with a wide array of replacements for different situations; long barrels for distant foes, short barrels for close combat, and a whole host of others. It was a work of art, too, with a black finish and silver grips, as well as delicate silver etching along the barrels. It was probably the closest thing Vincent had to a constant companion, its eighteen rounds of .50 BMG slaying man, beast, and machine with equal efficicency.

And now the monstrous weapon was levelled at Rosso. Just one more in the legion of ghosts haunting his memory. The thought caused a brief wave of sadness to wash over him, but he squashed it quickly. There was no more time for hesitation.

Rosso came out from behind her hiding place with a shout, her twin blade seperated into two halves, one in each hand. Seeing her leap over the chimney with both blades held high overhead, he responded instantly with a snap shot aimed for her center of mass.

The ex-SOLDIER barely had time to bring a blade up to block the shot. There was a loud shriek of metal on metal, and as Rosso landed she stared in horror as she looked at what remained of the sword: the bullet had literally blown through it, leaving a mangled stick of metal in her hands. She tossed the useless weapon aside, glaring hatefully at her opponent. "You'll pay for that...Vincent Valentine."

The pain in Vincent's left arm, which had up 'til then died down to a dull throbbing, suddenly flared up again. It was getting worse, he noted mournfully. Stars danced in his vision as he felt his entire arm go limp, but through sheer force of will he managed to remain steady. "You can't win this time, Rosso. Surrender." The words spilled out of Vincent's mouth before he realized what he was saying; that was strange. Since when did he care whether his enemies lived or died?

Rosso responded predictably. She waved a claw-like gloved hand at the gunman in a disdainful manner. "Oh, spare me. You already know that one of us is going to die here." She grinned in a feral manner as she levelled her remaining sword at Vincent. The curved blade, dyed crimson as if by the blood of its many victims, glinted in the afternoon sun. "And it's going to be you!"

Rosso charged. Vincent's finger tightened on the trigger.

Then, a bolt of lightning flew out of the clear blue sky and smashed into the roof between the two combatants. Vincent was momentarily dazzled by the flash of light, but he could clearly hear Rosso snarling in irritation: "Oh, now who is it!"

A figure descended from the sky towards the spot the lightning had struck moments earlier. Vincent recognized him immediately. The man who attacked Shalua...the man who called him 'brother'. "...G."

Rosso's expression changed; Vincent could have sworn he saw a glimmer of fear pass through her eyes. "G? You mean...?"

G smiled cryptically. "So you've heard of me? Brother, have you been spilling my secrets to strange women?" He turned about on his heels to face Vincent, tilting his head down so that he was looking up at the gunman through his bangs. "I don't think the tin lady would approve of that." At Vincent's raised eyebrow, G just shook his head. "Nevermind. Anyway, dear brother, I have some business with your friend. Do you mind...?"

Vincent frowned beneath the collar of his cloak. "Yes, as a matter of fact I do." He was naturally suspicious, and G's sudden interest in Rosso didn't seem like it was going to end well.

G simply smiled again. "Well, that's fine." Then he abruptly turned his back to Vincent, addressing Rosso. "Crimson Rosso...last of the Zvets. Come, my child." He held a gloved hand out to her, beckoning.

Rosso didn't trust this stranger either. She had heard rumors of a man named G who predated all other SOLDIERs, but... "No." She shook her head, raising her sword. "There's something off about you. I don't trust you."

The man laughed, catching Rosso off guard. She instinctively took a step back, closer to the edge of the roof. "That's fine too. You don't have a choice in the matter." He paused as he heard a faint click behind him; he knew instantly that Vincent had raised his gun, and turned his head just far enough to glare at him. "Now now, brother. Don't interfere."

Vincent bit back a cry as it felt like his arm was about to explode. Like the flesh had been peeled off in strips. Try as he might, it was so excruciating that he couldn't move. His strength faltered, and Cerberus clattered to the tile below. A moment later he followed, dropping to his knees with a muffled thud. A soft 'plap!' caused Vincent to look down at his stricken arm. There was no mistaking it this time: black goop was welling up between the joints of his gauntlet and dripping onto the tiles below. He could only stare at his hand, transfixed by the sight. What...is this?

Satisfied that Vincent was occupied, G turned his attention to Rosso, who was glaring at him. "So you took care of that guy for me. Am I supposed to trust you now?" she asked, suspicion heavy in her tone. She folded her arms over her chest as if to complete the image.

G laughed. Again, Rosso found herself taking a step back; this man didn't have a pleasant laugh. It reminded her uncomfortably of Weiss, for whom laughter was a tool to register his disdain for the unfortunate soul for whom the sound was intended. "Why, my dear sweet child...you misunderstand me." He then held a hand out towards her, palm-first this time. She felt a brief tugging sensation, glancing down at herself. An expression of abject terror spread over her face as she saw tendrils of black ichor leeching out of her bare stomach. Then everything went black, and she felt nothing more.

From Vincent's perspective, it looked like G was drawing something out of Rosso. Black goo seemed to ooze out of her stomach, to her horror...then it began to come out of her nose, then her eyes and ears. By the time the last of it had snaked through the air in tendrils that leeched into G's body, nothing remained of Rosso but an ashen statue. She was frozen in place, eyes wide with terror and clutching her stomach as if vainly trying to keep the foreign substance inside her body. Moments later, the remains collapsed into a swirl of dust that dissipated into the breeze. Her sword tumbled off the roof to clatter noisily to the ground below. Looking at his hand, Vincent couldn't help but wonder if he was going to share her fate.

"So, brother, it appears that we're alone at last." G turned to face Vincent now, placing his hands in the pockets of his coat. He looked rather casual considering that he had just murdered someone. "Too bad about the witch, though, isn't it? She had to go and run away instead of dying in Midgar like the rest of her wretched kind..."

At this point, every instinct Vincent had was screaming at him that he was going to die here unless he did something. Forcing himself unsteadily to his feet, Vincent's eternally unruffled gaze locked onto G. "I won't..."

"Won't what?" G asked, tilting his head to one side in a gesture of kitten-like curiousity.

"I won't...let you do as you please," Vincent intoned darkly, his blood-toned eyes suddenly flashing like twin rubies. Dark energy began to swirl around his body, forming into a sphere of murky blue and black plasma. G simply watched curiously, vaguely perceiving an object moving around inside. He assumed it was Vincent.

When the sphere suddenly exploded into particles that scattered to the four winds, however, the creature that was left behind was definitely not Vincent.

Standing in his place was a hulking brute, a creature that looked like seven feet of solid muscle covered in grey-blue fur. The creature's arms were black and leathery, ending in wicked-looking claws that gleamed in the sun's light. Its face was canine-like, with a mouth full of razor sharp teeth and glowing yellow eyes. It had two horns sprouting from amidst a head of spiky white hair, and a strange carapace on its chest. The only clothes it wore were Vincent's pants, torn off at its knees, and his cloak wrapped around its waist like a loincloth.

G didn't know the creature's name, and indeed it had none. Professor Hojo of the Shin-ra company once referred to it as the Galian Beast, and that was the only identifier that stuck with it.

The creature let out a blood-curdling screech as it regarded G with an expression normally reserved for predators regarding prey. He seemed completely undisturbed by his opponent, however, reaching back and drawing Weiss' katana-rifles in the blink of an eye. "My my, brother...letting out such a beast in a public place. Shame on you." Unfortunately, Vincent was no longer there to hear him.

The Galian Beast, however, knew that it hated the puny creature of flesh and bone standing before it. Even if an unnatural power was radiating from him. The beast leapt into the air, its mighty legs propelling it nearly a dozen feet up as it brought one hand up, then came crashing down towards G to crush him beneath its claws.

The creature found itself stymied, however, when G crossed both of the katana-rifles in an 'X' shape above his head. Rather than bending from the awesome force of the blow, his arms remained perfectly rigid, keeping the Galian Beast at bay. He grinned. It, of course, couldn't understand his amusement. All it knew was that it hated the human before it, and wanted to devour his innards after it had broken him into pieces. Pushing off from the barrier of blades, the beast nimbly flipped about in mid-air to land on its clawed feet.

The beast considered its options. It didn't plan like a man did, it simply went for the instinct that felt right at the time. Its first instinct, smashing him, had failed. So it went to Plan B. The creature held its arms out to the side, wisps of smoke appearing in its palms before they suddenly burst into demonic-looking flame. G began to charge as he saw the creature preparing to attack, but was too late: an instant before he got within his sword's reach, the creature clapped both hands together and launched a massive ball of fire right into his face. The explosion sent a column of smoke into the air that was visible for blocks.

The creature was amused. It was sure that it had just turned its prey into so much burnt meat, and practically salivated at the thought. It was so certain of its next meal, in fact, that it became enraged when the smoke from the explosion cleared to reveal G standing before it with a shimmering barrier of energy protecting him.

"What's the matter, brother? Losing your touch?"

Shalua was just about ready to deck Reno. While the rest of the Turks had busied themselves with searching for Rosso or helping the authorities clean up the mess that had been made of the marketplace, the man in the red hair seemed to have made it his mission to pester her; she was positive he was 'checking her out' whenever he thought she wasn't looking.

She was almost grateful when a loud explosion shook the area. She instinctively ducked her head and threw her robotic arm up to shield herself, but when no shrapnel was forthcoming, she began to look around for the source of the disturbance. Even with one eye it was hard for her to miss the column of smoke rising up into the air. It took her only a moment longer to remember who had been heading that way. "Vincent!"

Reno was impressed. In all his years as a Turk he had never seen someone leap into a chocobo's saddle, turn the bird around, and kick it into action as quickly as Shalua. She was gone before he could say a word.

As Shalua drove Vincent's chocobo towards the source of the explosion, a million thoughts raced through her mind. She was quickly struck dumb by the sight that awaited her as she rounded the final corner, the chocobo's claws scratching on the concrete as she pulled it to a stop.

Up on the roof of a nearby house, the man who called himself G was standing opposite a massive wolf-like beast that she had never seen before. There was no sign of Rosso. Or Vincent.

The creature seemed to be fighting with G, as it lunged forward with claws extended to rake into the man's flesh. G leapt aside with an almost contemptuous expression on his face, bringing one of his stolen rifle-katanas around in an overhead arc that came down just short of the creature's wrist. It yowled in pain, clutching its wounded forearm and taking a step back from its enemy.

Something about the creature seemed almost familiar to her. "Is that...a summon?"

The beast seemed to have heard her, its ears pricking up at the sound. It turned to look at her, and its expression changed. It almost looked ashamed. "Sha...lu...a?" it growled, clearly unused to human speech.

G paused, swords raised as if about to strike. He followed the creature's gaze to Shalua, grinning in an unsavory fashion. "Well well, the tin lady shows. What a happy coincidence this is!" Then he levelled one of the blades at her, his expression turning deadly-serious in the blink of an eye. "Give it back." And with that cryptic comment he flew forward in a blur of motion, aiming to drive the blade straight through her.

Finding his progress halted, however, G blinked in confusion. The creature had dashed in to block his attack, and as a result the rifle-katana had skewered clear through its midsection. He laughed as the realization hit him. "You poor, pathetic fool. Throwing your life away for others?"

It only took a moment for the creature to lose its energy, as dark blood pooled at its feet. It slumped forward bonelessly, then to Shalua's horror began to transform: the creature was Vincent, still impaled on G's blade. The two men glared at each other.

"Who are you?" Vincent asked after a moment's pause. "Really?"

G smiled, pulling his blade back with a wet slicing sound. The weapon was covered in blood, but he seemed not to care as he slid it back into its sheath. Then he took a step back from Vincent, noticing the other man's unsteadiness. His lone black wing sprung out from his shoulder blade before he spoke, rising up into the air. "I'm the one who will set this sinful world straight. If you must call me something, call me Genesis." And then he turned around and simply disappeared, his wing carrying him off at impossible speed.

"Genesis..." Vincent mumbled the word, letting it roll off his tongue, before he finally lost his strength. He stumbled backwards, his foot hitting naught but air...he fell, and right before he hit the ground he heard a voice shout.

"Vincent!"

Author's Notes: Edited to reflect recent news about Crisis Core. I warned you that I'd be spoiling the rest of the Compilation, didn't I?