The President's suite is located on the top floor of the Shinra Tower, surrounded by windows overlooking all Sectors. It's a large lavish space dressed for televised appearances, which is exactly what this execution is.
Once Cloud exits the elevator into the main laboratory, it's clear a celebratory buzz has seized the tower. Every conference room television is tuned to the same broadcast, and employees have abandoned their work to watch. On the screens, huge gold and red Shinra banners showcase a row of five chairs fitted with leather restraints. One chair already has an occupant, slumped over. Dead. The man in the fatigues and red bandana. The one who nearly shot Cloud in the head.
Lethal injection, by the looks of it.
"No…" Cloud says, but his words are lost in the jubilant atmosphere.
The news feed proclaims Shinra has captured and tried the war criminals from Wutai. The camera pans out to reveal the row of executives standing beside President Shinra himself, overseeing the proceedings with pomp. Hojo is, of course, missing.
Cloud rushes out of the lab. While he's been detained below ground for hours, ignorant to all this, the executions have gone underway. Cloud remembers Rude pushing past him. The Turks are known for unconventional interrogation methods, getting results. His stomach turns. He takes another elevator out of the labs up into the lobby.
"These war criminals are responsible for the destruction of Reactor One and the deaths of countless citizens in that Sector," a newscaster says from every television. "Shinra is keeping our city safe. These terrorists were also plotting a mass detonation of Reactor Five, thwarted by Shinra's brave police."
Cloud tries not to look frantic. There's a line of off-duty employees waiting for the elevators that go to the top floor, normally requiring special keycard access. But for this occasion the observation area in the suite is open to all. He overhears another employee saying that the viewing room is full but the staging area on the floor below still has space. That's where everyone is going. To look at the prisoners before they are executed.
There's so much commotion that nobody notices Cloud's panicked expression. Surely, he was re-assigned to the basement labs because Heidegger wanted to keep him out of this very event, so taking the elevator is out of the question. He eyes the cameras. No doubt they'll be scanning credentials on the ascent.
But what option did he have? The suite was only accessible via this private elevator and—
"The stairs!" He snaps his fingers. "I'm taking the stairs."
A man next to him snorts. "Good luck with that. It's like sixty flights." Then he takes a closer look at Cloud. "Oh, nevermind. A SOLDIER, huh. Thought you guys were extinct."
There are cameras in the fire stairwell but no scanners. Hopefully this method will mask his approach. He doesn't see Professor Hojo anywhere in the congestion, which means there is another c-suite elevator somewhere that Cloud is not privy to, but that doesn't matter. He's running out of time. On the television another terrorist is brought out in handcuffs, the overweight man in the white shirt. He can only pray that Tifa is last.
He yanks open the stairwell door and runs, taking the steps three at a time.
Each flight gets progressively worse. The concrete walls and angular metal railings spiral up into infinity. At floor twenty he starts to slow. At forty, his breathing becomes labored. At fifty, the muscles in his thighs burn. At fifty-five, he's pulling himself up mostly with his arms by the handrails. At fifty-eight, he pauses to catch his breath and wipe the sweat off his face. The floor below the suite is fifty-nine.
He pushes on the reinforced exit door. It doesn't budge.
"You've gotta be kidding me…"
A sign next to the door states that re-entry to the top five floors is currently restricted. He propels down to floor fifty-five and exits into a cubicle hell of administrative offices. The employees have vacated, and the floor is a wash of bluish lighting and the all-too-quiet hum of computers and air-conditioning.
He still doesn't have a plan as he finds the interior staircase, a modern glass structure connecting the open inner floors to the top. MPs stand guard. Above he can hear the clamour of excitement.
"Credentials, sir?" one MP asks with a hand blocking the way.
"Do I look like I need credentials?" Cloud practically yells.
The MPs exchange looks, and Cloud shoves past. They do not try to stop him.
The din of conversation gets louder as he climbs. At last he reaches floor fifty-nine. The sixtieth floor is sealed off with a wall of MPs, shoulder-to-shoulder. He scours the crowds. There are hundreds of employees packed into the main hall. This floor has been cleared of furniture and retrofitted with a temporary platform on which a woman stands bravely. She's flanked by MPs, hands bound.
It's the woman from Reactor One. He can't remember her name.
She catches his eyes. She recognizes him, and her expression is a desperate plea for help, but he won't risk anything without first knowing where Tifa is. Everyone is watching her. Some are jeering, some are taunting. There are more employees up here than Cloud thought there'd be. Company rhetoric burrows deep.
Behind the captive is a door. That must be where the remaining prisoners are held.
There's a triumphant and perhaps startled uproar from the floor above. Television screens all around show the overweight man seizing in his chair next to his dead compatriot. Cloud looks away. He still hasn't caught his breath, and it feels impossible to breathe.
He darts for the door while everyone is distracted with another death. The woman from Reactor One is crying silently, head held high. The MPs push her forward.
Cloud gets through the door. On the other side is a row of MPs guarding another room in a corridor.
"Who're you? Are you authorized to be here?" the captain asks.
Cloud straightens and tries to slow his wild pulse.
"Yes, I'm here to escort the prisoners," Cloud replies, hoping the color of his uniform is enough to persuade them because there's about ten of them and one of him. He is wearing First-Class indigo, though.
"We weren't informed."
"The President doesn't want any screw-ups for these last two. Which is why they sent me," Cloud says.
There's a tense moment. The captain isn't quite sure. Cloud is a little too twitchy.
"I'll have to check with Mr. Heidegger," the captain replies, reaching for his radio. "What's your designation?"
Cloud sighs. He really wanted to avoid alarm, yet now there's no choice.
He charges at the captain, throwing the man off balance and wrenching his pistol off his belt. In one sharp smack with the butt of the handgun, the captain goes down. His team has their weapons trained on Cloud.
"W-w-what are you doing?" an MP asks. "You're Shinra!"
"I guess not that much," Cloud says. "Lower your weapons and walk away. Nobody has to—"
He dodges just as a bullet pops into the concrete next to his head. The MPs open fire. Cloud dashes into the nearest guard, grabbing his body as a shield while holding the captain's gun in his other hand. He pops three shots quick each into the nearest MPs, opting for their kneecaps and wrists to disable them rather than kill.
One MP hits him in the shoulder. A lucky shot. Right through the old shrapnel wound. Cloud yelps in pain and fires back, tearing the man's face off with the rest of the clip. The other MP shoots through the human shield, killing his companion, and Cloud throws the body at him in disgust. Their training is amateur, idiotic. Cloud wonders if he was once like this.
There are only two more MPs, but his clip is dry. He closes the distance fast, using the handgun as a melee weapon to strike one across the jaw, splintering it as the man spins to the floor unconscious. The last MP backs away, realizing he does not want to fight a SOLDIER or whatever the hell Cloud is. He's young, maybe sixteen.
Cloud lets him run off down the hall. The floor is littered with unconscious, dead, or moaning guards. He kicks open the door they were guarding.
Tifa and Barret are shackled to chairs within a storage room. Shelves and cleaning supplies have been crammed to one side.
"Cloud!" Tifa shouts, her face aglow. There's bruising along her eye socket.
"You the one causin' all that ruckus we hear?" Barret asks, incredulous.
Cloud stands in the doorway, smiling at Tifa. She's alive. He made it. He's catching his breath.
"Well, if you helpin' us, then you better help us!" Barret yells. "Get over here!"
Cloud goes right to Tifa. The restraints are metal, the padlock secure. He uses the handgun as a hammer to smash the lock. A sting pulses down his arm. He'll worry about that later.
She shakes off the chains and hugs Cloud tight. He forgets all about the gunshot wound in his shoulder.
"I knew you'd help us!"
"C'mon, we've gotta mosey," Cloud says. He takes Tifa's hand and pulls her towards the exit, but she isn't following. She's standing firm, and she's suddenly very difficult to move.
"Wait, what about Barret?" It's not a question but a reprimand.
She tugs her hand free of his and grabs the discarded pistol, using it against Barret's padlock as well.
Barret winces. "Don't you crush my fingers now!"
"Help me, Cloud!" Tifa entreats.
"There isn't time." Cloud beckons her. The door to the staging area is opening. He pokes his head out and sees the MPs who were with the condemned woman staring in wide-eyed disbelief at the massacre backstage. "Tifa!" Cloud hisses.
The padlock drops free, and Barret stands and stretches. He shakes his useless missing gun-arm.
"Gotta find our weapons!" he barks.
"Too late, let's run!" Cloud reaches for Tifa, but she's already sprinting past.
The MPs are reacting slow to Cloud because his uniform confuses them, but once they spot Tifa and Barret they pull their guns.
"Stop or we shoot!" someone yells.
Cloud lets Barret run ahead with Tifa. He wants to remain between them and the Shinra guards.
"So you bitin' the hand that feeds, huh?" Barret sneers as he steps by.
Cloud doesn't care what Barret thinks. These MPs are hesitant to shoot at a fellow Shinra employee without provocation. One of them gets on his radio, though.
Cloud takes off after Tifa and Barret. He's not familiar with this floor, and the hallway terminates in a set of conference rooms, lavish and drenched in blood-red Shinra colors. Then he spots the ventilation system.
Barret notices Cloud's gaze.
"Oh no. I ain't climbin' in there! That won't support our weight."
Tifa is already standing on the table with Cloud. He's boosting her up to dislodge the vent grating.
"They will send more," Cloud informs Barret. "And they will send the Turks soon. We don't have much time seeing as how we are escaping right next to—"
The lights go off. There's a dying whir as the air conditioning units shutdown.
"I ain't afraid of the Turks," Barret says in the dark.
Emergency lighting clicks on, yellow and dim. Tifa throws the grate down with a clang. It dents the glossy wood table.
"That's the security systems," Cloud says. "The Tower is going into lockdown." He motions to Barret. "Get into the vent with Tifa. I'm right behind you."
"And leave you alone to trap us? Huh, I don't think so."
Cloud groans. There are guards outside the door now, but the security systems have locked this conference room tight. No doubt someone is working on an override right now. Or they are waiting for one of the Turks to arrive and clean this mess up.
"What about Wedge, Jessie, Biggs?" Tifa asks, eyes shimmering with dread. "We have to find them."
Cloud thinks of the woman on the staging platform, head held high, being escorted to her death. He hesitates, and that's all Tifa needs to know. She nods and closes her eyes. Barret's shoulders slump, then he slams his boot down on the table, shooting a crack through the rich mahogany.
"Goddamn it! To hell with Shinra! I'm takin' down this whole damn building!" Barret yells.
Voices shout through the door for them to surrender. Cloud hears the clicks of automatic rifles being loaded.
"Climb up," he says to Tifa, holding out his fingers interlaced to give her a lift.
"No," Barret interrupts. "You first, Shinra dog. We ain't trustin' you."
"All this bickering is wasting our time!" Tifa huffs and pulls herself into the vent without any help.
Cloud hauls himself up next. Barret bellows a curse before following.
The vents are dusty and cramped. With the air systems off, the quiet is unnerving. Every crawl sends creaks and groans through the metal tubing. As they leave the conference room behind, the vents become very dark. Soon it's impossible to see, so all he does is follow the sound of Tifa's movement ahead.
She halts, and Cloud nearly bumps into her.
"There's a drop here," she whispers frantically. "I can't tell how far."
Cloud wishes he had gone first now. Somewhere behind them voices echo, shouts.
He touches her ankle. "I'll hold onto you and lower you down."
Barret scorns, "You even know where we goin', spike?"
Cloud doesn't, but admitting that won't change anything.
"Okay," Tifa agrees. "Don't let me go."
He holds onto her as she explores the descent. His wounded shoulder sparks hot protest. Blood soaks down his sleeve. But he holds tight and braces his knees against the sides of the vent, allowing her as much slack as possible.
At last, she reaches the bottom. It thankfully isn't that far, but the darkness makes every step tenuous. All three make it onto the next level. Then the next in similar fashion. Then two more. The vents are growing hot with the air systems off. It's stifling.
"Damn, when we gettin' outta here?" Barret wheezes.
They scramble around corners. They squeeze past motionless fans. The network feels endless, and just when Cloud begins to regret this plan, a faint light creeps in.
"There!" Tifa whispers, victorious.
There's an opening ahead. She shoves off the grate. Cloud remains in awe of her. The strength, the confidence. He wants to know everything about her. Later, of course.
The ducts terminate at another conference room in Shinra colors bathed in emergency lighting. Empty. Cloud checks the exit. The coast is clear, quiet. But they still have a ways to go.
"We've gotta get to the stairs," Cloud says. "The elevators are inoperable."
"Gotta find our weapons…" Barret iterates. "Gotta make Shinra pay. For Wedge, Jessie, and Biggs. "
"Make them pay later. For now we just have to get out of here," Cloud replies. "Let's keep moving."
They scurry past cubicles and offices, emerging into the expansive foyer near the central elevator shaft on this floor. The elevators are dark, and the emergency halogen bulbs casts everything in exaggerated shadow. The stairwell is just ahead.
A figure intercepts their path. Tall, lean. A dark suit with a wicked smile.
"Well, well, well," Reno says, tapping the edge of his baton against one shoulder. "Two escaped convicts. And one loose end. What my luck."
Cloud stops short. Dismay hits him. The Turk has cut them off.
Reno tsks. "No wonder the SOLDIER program was discontinued. You'll be the nail in Hojo's coffin for sure."
His baton buzzes with electricity at the flip of a switch. Blue sparks sputter at the end, throwing white flashes in the dark and illuminating the teeth in Reno's grin. Tifa readies her fists.
"They aren't from Wutai," Cloud tries to reason with him. "Shinra is lying about the whole terrorist thing!"
Reno lets out a hoot. "You think that matters? It's not what I think or the company thinks. It's what the public thinks."
He's circling Cloud, slow and methodical, predatory.
Tifa jolts into action. She races towards the stairwell doors with Barret hot on her heels. Reno snaps his attention to her, and Cloud attacks, desperate to give her time.
With fists coiled, he charges at the Turk. The baton whips around, smacking hard against his forearm. Instant bruising blossoms. He gets one solid punch in before an electrical discharge rivets down his spine. Reno kicks him away.
Tifa made it through the stairwell door, as did Barret. Cloud smiles. All he has to do is keep Reno occupied long enough for…
Then a shadow stalks into the stairs. A tall muscular suit, cracking his knuckles.
Rude, Reno's ever-present silent partner. Cloud's spirits sink. He should have known Rude would be here, too.
"Can't you see there's no escape?" Reno chuckles. "Just give it up."
Cloud can't. He won't. He has to incapacitate Reno somehow.
Reno lunges, baton swinging. Cloud dodges and grabs Reno's wrist. The weapon halts between them, each straining to overpower the other. Cloud wins out, but Reno is quick. He twists away as Cloud knocks the baton out his grasp. It spins across the tile.
Cloud pummels Reno, once, twice. He grabs Reno's shirt. There's blood on his knuckles. The Turk trips him with a quick movement of his legs, then spins to pin Cloud to the ground. Hands are at Cloud's throat. He knees Reno in the ribs, then throws him off with a mighty heave.
Both men stand, face each other, catching their breath. The baton sizzles at its fallen location. Dark red trickles down Reno's nose into his mouth. Cloud squeezes his fists.
"You...should've been a Turk," Reno says with a hint of admiration.
Cloud dives for the baton. Reno slides across the tile first, snatching it up and stabbing the taser end right into Cloud. Shockwaves cascade under his skin. His eyesight explodes into stars. His arms go up defensively just in time to block a flurry of blows. The baton strikes hard and fast, pulverizing his flesh. Pain shoots up his arms. He tenses his leg and kicks Reno in the knees. His vision returns to see the Turk reeling.
Neither relents. The fight carries on at a frenzied pace. Reno launches into a complex series of attacks, and Cloud evades. Cloud lands a punch then a kick, Reno retreats. Cloud's face is numb from electric shocks, and Reno's cheek and lip are swelling up.
In one lucky moment, Cloud gets the upper hand. He tackles Reno, pins his arms, holding the lethal baton at bay, and presses one hand down on that thin white throat. The angle is perfect. Reno struggles. Cloud doesn't want to kill him. He just wants the Turk to pass out, but the Mako-laced eyes staring up at him suggests it won't be that easy.
Reno tries to speak. Cloud squeezes harder.
Then something happens.
An intense dizziness strikes Cloud like a jackhammer, pulling him backwards. Down. Into the floor. He's falling further than the floor could allow. His stomach surges with weightlessness. He's plummeting, pulled by hands grasping at his neck. There's darkness all around. He can't tell which direction is up anymore. There's only sludge, enveloping him, pooling into his mouth, reaching into his lungs. It burns like the hot liquid in his veins.
He begins to suffocate. Pure panic kicks in, but he can't move. He can't scream. This thing is inside him, curling and exploring. Tendrils flicker. His eyes water. He sees nothing. He hears only the whispering. It's saying his name.
Over and over. And suddenly he's not alone.
Another presence is here.
"Cloud?"
It smells like Mako. Something thin is wrapping around his wrists.
It's hair. Long strands of it, writhing like snakes.
"Cloud!"
He gasps. Everything comes into focus. His heart pounds. The sludge is gone. His lungs are clear. And the whispering is no more. He can't tell who said his name because he's alone. And it's very dark.
A monsterous headache roars as he attempts to sit up. He's lying on cold concrete in a holding cell in the Shinra Tower. He's shivering. The sensation of that strange episode holds him rapt. Whatever it was, it terrifies him.
"Cloud, are you there?" It's Tifa's voice.
"...Yeah," he says, though it's barely a whisper. He clears his throat and tries again. "Yeah, I'm here."
He can still feel the phantom hands touching him.
"Are you okay?"
Tifa is in the next cell over. She's talking to him through the wall.
"Yes," Cloud lies. "I'm fine. Are you okay? What happened?"
Barret's voice comes through the other adjacent cell.
"Your rescue plan failed, that's what happened!" Barret spouts.
"At least we aren't dead," Tifa replies.
"Not yet," Barret grumbles.
Cloud sits up, cradling his splitting head, trying to make sense of what he just experienced. He'd almost had Reno, that much was certain, until this… thing interfered. This thing, yes, the one in the basement. He felt it.
A door clicks in the holding chamber. Four MPs march in, guns held at attention. They stop in front of Cloud's cell.
A burly older man saunters in. He has an air of unmistakable power, and the stern cold look of decades of hard decisions. His suit is worth more than Cloud can imagine.
"Cloud Strife…" He speaks in a low gravelly tone. "The betrayer."
This man looks very familiar. Cloud's seen him before in promotional materials for Shinra. Then he realizes who it is, and the gravity of this visit almost makes him collapse. Almost. Maybe two years ago he would've been excited to meet the president. Now it makes him sick.
"President Shinra," Cloud acknowledges.
The president grimaces like a disapproving father.
"I'm ashamed to see one of our finest assets like this, held in a cage with the rest of this garbage," President Shinra says in disdain.
"I'm not an asset."
"Not anymore, I suppose," Shinra agrees. "And I want to know why."
"What will happen to them?" Cloud asks between defiance and exhaustion.
The president regards him coolly.
"Oh, the executions will commence tomorrow. As planned. The media is in quite a stir thanks to your disturbance, and the terrorists' blood will quiet the eddy." Shinra smiles cruelly. "You see, nothing you did mattered today. Which is why I want to know why you did it."
"You'll execute me anyways, so why should I talk?"
Shinra leans backs. "Rest assured we will execute you, but not in the media's eye. You won't get that honor."
Because Cloud's a dirty secret now.
"Some think you should've been executed years ago when your body was pulled from that Reactor, split in half with your insides all over your outsides," the president sneers. "But I allowed you to live. And yet now you make me regret that."
Cloud remains silent.
President Shinra scoffs. "So you have nothing to say. No begging for mercy? No pleading insanity?"
Cloud holds his gaze. He's not intimidated. He can hear Barret pacing in the cell next door.
"Then you'll die with the scum you protect."
The president turns abruptly, angered by Cloud's lack of deference or explanation. It infuriates Shinra to have something he can't control, to be near anything he can't understand. Cloud is both. A chaotic kink in the system. A rabid dog that must be put down.
Cloud watches Shinra leave. The MPs follow. That was his only chance out, he realizes. The president wanted him to beg. He sighs and leans against the wall.
"Some rescue…" Barret mutters.
Cloud ignores him. His head is spinning. He lays down on the cold metal cot and curls into a ball, trying to make sense of what happened. Tifa and Barret talk, plotting ways to break free, mourning the loss of their friends, keeping each other's moods afloat. Cloud listens but doesn't participate. He feels far away, far underground.
Eventually hours pass, and Tifa and Barret fall quiet. Cloud doesn't think he'll be able to sleep, but the stubborn hours march on, and at some point exhaustion overtakes him. He spirals down, through a maze of vertigo, down into oblivion.
