Junon sits at the edge of the ocean. Bronze tiers rise at an angle against the cliffs to support the Mako-powered cannon at its heart. The gigantic weapon, jutting over the water, is an ominous display of Shinra's strength. The city sprawls from this prominent point, rivaling Midgar in population if not size. Much of Shinra's military force is here. Sequestered along the upper tier are weapons, vehicles, and aircraft awaiting deployment. This much Cloud remembers from the Shinra archives. The Reactor powering the city is underwater, the first of its kind.

Junon's unique layout creates a bottleneck into the area that Shinra controls. That's where Cloud wants to go. HQ would send information about the General's whereabouts there. If he can slip inside the upper tier, he can find out exactly what Shinra knows.

But as Cloud and Barret approach, they see barricades at the entries and checkpoints with MPs. A long line of cars and trucks snakes along the roadways, moving slow.

"Shit," Barret says. "Ain't no way we gettin' past those security checks."

Cloud agrees. ID scans, for sure.

The sun glares off the tiers. The shadow of the Mako cannon falls across several levels of the city, and the ocean is a peerless blue. White waves crash nonstop, tapering off against the beaches stretching to either side.

"What an ugly place," Barret says. "Never liked Junon. Used to have nice beaches, before Shinra."

Cloud ignores him, formulating a plan. Junon will be crawling with MPs and the Turks. And somewhere in all that chaos is Sephiroth. Something touches the back of his neck. He brushes it away, then jumps when he spots an actual person standing far behind them in the grasses.

"Hiya," the mysterious ninja says, brandishing her weapon.

"You again," Cloud mutters. The skittering on his neck traces into his hair. He shakes his head.

The woman twirls the shuriken between her hands.

"Lookin' for a way into Junon?" she asks.

"No," Cloud says.

"Yes," Barret says.

The two look at each other. Cloud concedes. "Well, maybe."

"You think you can help us, shortie?" Barret asks, crossing his arms.

The ninja brushes dark hair into her bandana and smiles. "Sure. I get past those Shinra idiots all the time."

"Yeah, to mug people," Cloud replies, turning away as if the conversation were over.

Barret is not so keen to dismiss her this time. "We tryin' to get into the upper tier. Shina territory. Ain't no kid stuff we playin at."

The woman taps her chin. "Are you guys those terrorists Shinra's been blabbing about?"

Barret lets out a laugh. "That depends on your point of view!"

"We aren't interested," Cloud says to her. She's distracting him from coming up with a plan. "So go on home."

But she doesn't leave. Her devious look shifts to him.

"Wanna know how I stole your gil?" she says.

Cloud doesn't reply. Barret suppresses a smile.

"C'mon, blondie," she says, readying the shuriken. "Let's go again! Maybe you'll catch my secret this time."

"I'm not interested."

"Because you'll lose. Again."

Barret snorts.

Cloud rolls his shoulder. "I'm leaving," he says. "I'm going to scout the other entrances, see if I can find a way in."

The ninja sheaths the shuriken onto her back, its lethal points catching the sun. Barret's curiosity wins out.

"You know an easy way in?" Barret asks her.

Cloud is already walking away.

"Ah, so you do need my help!" she says. "I figured as much when I saw you all wandering through the plains."

Barret shrugs. "Can't hurt, I suppose, seein' as how you managed to get inside an ex-SOLDIER's guard."

Adding to their ranks won't help stay under the radar, Cloud reasons, but Barret makes a good point. Her sleight of hand could be useful.

"Ex-SOLDIER, huh?" The woman eyes Cloud. "Neat."

"Fine. Tag along if you want. Let's hurry on," Cloud says, already several paces ahead.

"Hey, wait up!" she yells as Barret follows. "You didn't even ask me my name! It's Yuffie, by the way."

Barret makes introductions for them both. Walking ahead, Cloud leans over to Barret, out of earshot from their new companion.

"She could be a spy," Cloud whispers. "Keep your eyes open. Shinra's got spies everywhere."

"You're paranoid, spike," Barret whispers back. "She's Wutain. Shinra destroyed Wutai in the war. Rememb—"

Then he halts. Of course Cloud wouldn't remember. All that Mako poisoning or whatever. Barret isn't so sure he can trust Cloud, either. He's heard reports throughout Avalanche of Shinra sleeper agents. And there's plenty in Cloud's sketchy story that ain't adding up. But Barret keeps this to himself. For now.

At every major artery leading into Junon, there are MPs stationed. Helicopters hover into the upper tier, bearing the Shinra logo.

"Ready for my help yet?" Yuffie says.

Then Cloud sees a military van parked outside. Something about it triggers a very specific scene in his head. The trip into Nibelheim. The van bumping along the dirt paths into the mountains. That type of transit van usually has spare supplies. Like uniforms.

"I got it!" Cloud says, the plan clicking into place. "I can sneak into the city as an MP. Once I get the intel on Sephiroth, we can figure out a way to get the rest of you in. If he's still in the city."

Barret rubs the scruff on his chin. "You sure you wanna put on that uniform again?"

Cloud isn't, but he doesn't have a better idea.

"I'm comin', too," Barret says.

"No. You would draw too much attention," Cloud says, pointing to Barret's gun-arm.

Yuffie chimes in. "Bad plan. I got a way better one."

"I know the way to act," Cloud contends. "I was an MP first before I became this…" But then he isn't sure exactly what he is. He has no rank.

Barret watches Cloud a moment.

"You sure you won't get too cozy in that uniform? Disappear on us in that great big city?"

"No," Cloud says. "I won't disappear on you."

"Hmph. Better not. Or else you become the enemy again."

"I get it, Barret…"

It will take time to prove he isn't Shinra's property anymore.

Yuffie chatters on about her way better non-specific plan while Cloud heads to the parked van. It's best to do this espionage alone anyways. Even if the others get in, nobody else should be marching up to the Shinra base and accessing records.

It doesn't take long for him to crack the lock on the van's door and find a spare uniform within. Exactly in the compartment he'd thought. The tide of memories is strange. It's unclear when something will trigger something else in his head. He wishes he could sort it all out. It's like searching an ocean floor with a failing flashlight.

The uniform goes on over his clothes, yet it doesn't bring any new memories. Only a feeling of unease, anxiety. A blink into his former self. Then it's gone. MPs don't typically carry broadswords, but entering Junon without it would be foolish. He might encounter the General.

Uniform on, he walks with confidence to the nearest gate. The helmet's visor sits low over his eyes, and the MPs flag him through the civilians once they notice him.

"Credentials?" one of them asks, fatigued from the nonstop influx of people.

Cloud says he's a last-minute transfer from Kalm. He hands over the beige-level keycard from his uniform pocket. The keycard is blank, of course, but Cloud feigns ignorance, citing a mix-up during transit. The guards flag him through, not caring to detain a fellow MP when they are so understaffed.

Within the walls, Junon swarms with Shinra military. Traffic jams the avenues. But there's a sense of jubilance in the air. The people aren't afraid as Cloud figures they ought to be with a killer on the loose. In fact, the atmosphere is downright celebratory. There's distant music. Drums and horns.

Nevermind. He needs to get into the upper tier.

Parsing through the crowds is not so difficult with his Shinra uniform. The colors he wears command deference, and it disgusts him. The Sector Seven plate destruction tainted any prestige Shinra may have held in his mind. He won't wear this disguise any longer than he has to, despite its advantages.

Outdoor lifts and stairwells connect the tiers, but access to the top requires a keycard. Cloud follows the natural layout of the city, taking detours to avoid swaths of officers. The ocean peeks between the buildings, hissing against the behemoth of Junon. Each breeze smells of saltwater.

There's commotion ahead, blocking his way. He can't seem to get around, it's spilling into every sidestreet. The crowds are watching something, and that music is getting louder. A sudden raucous cheer emits.

Large red banners adorn the buildings. The Shinra logo is in huge gold font, along with a message. Cloud's stomach drops.

Welcome, President Rufus. A new era for Shinra Inc.

The banners are everywhere, he sees them now. And that triumphant music…

All his anticipation falls into dust. No, he'd been wrong about Junon. So very wrong.

The military isn't gathered here because of Sephiroth. It's for a damn parade, a celebratory demonstration, exalting Rufus Shinra. This sickening display of arrogance is what became of the President's murder. Yet this is exactly what Shinra wants. A diversion.

Confetti floats in the air, fireworks sparkle, and officials wave atop rolling tanks. Formations of MPs march in choreographed perfection. People push to get a better look at the spectacle.

There's a pit in his stomach. He's brought them to Junon—Tifa and Aerith, especially—for no reason. Sephiroth isn't here. The Turks in Kalm mentioned Junon, and Cloud had made the wrong assumption.

"Hey," a guy next to him says. "Aren't you supposed to be in there?"

"I'm going to be sick…" Cloud says, not entirely sure if he's lying.

Horns blare. The drums beat into Cloud's brain. He cannot believe this mistake he's made. But there must be intel here. He refuses to believe otherwise. He needs to get to the upper tier.

Somehow he makes it through the throngs into a less populated avenue. The knot in his core tightens. It's hard to breathe, and he almost takes off his helmet. Then he sees a secure lift to the uppermost tier, locked behind a gate with a blinking keycard reader.

Cloud approaches the elevator, glancing around to confirm he's drawn no suspicion.

For a fleeting moment, he considers swiping his white science division keycard. It's been in his wallet this whole time. But that could alert Shinra to the fact that he is not dead. Not worth the risk. He puts the keycard away and gets to work beneath the panel. An override sequence reroutes utility control, useful in an emergency. Cloud figures this qualifies. The override won't last long, but he suspects getting back down will be easier than going up.

The gate blinks green, and he hauls it open. He steps onto the lift and ascends.

The city recedes into organized lines of steel against the ocean. Golden shades reflect off the tiers. The blemish of the Mako-cannon diminishes, and the city almost looks beautiful. The varying levels of Junon are like petals on a shorn blossom.

The upper tier contains no shops or commerce. Shuttered warehouses line the muted and impersonal avenues. Shinra banners hang in dusted gold and faded red, fraying at wind-whipped ends. There is nobody else around. A distant roar of jubilance lifts off the ocean breeze from the mid-tiers. Everyone must be at the parade.

The vacant walkways are imposing. Cloud shudders to imagine the scores of mechanical sentinels within these sealed warehouses. Awaiting motionless in lakes of darkness. He doesn't dare touch any of those doorways he passes.

This isn't at all how he pictured the upper tier, the famous bastion of Shinra's military. There's zero pomp or pageantry. The Shinra Tower is pure luxury in comparison. The war with Wutai must've taken a higher toll than he was led to believe. A subtle weariness infiltrates every grayscale building, each galvanized staircase, and windowless door.

Up ahead, he spots activity. The buildings open into a landing zone, upon which rests the largest airship he's ever seen. Dozens of Shinra engineers buzz around it, making repairs and modifications. Cloud edges closer to get a better look because the airship is unreal in size and capacity. Stacks upon stacks of munitions await loading nearby.

But it's not capable of flight. Not yet. Detached turbines rest inert. The sleek metal cabin has panels missing. Cables hang from the undercarriage.

It should be destroyed, is Cloud's first thought. This is a weapon, plain and simple.

Then two figures step around the corner, approaching the fence of the landing zone.

It's Heidegger. And Rufus Shinra.

Cloud's blood ignites. His jaw tightens. All he hears is that phone call from Heidegger, that voice laughing as he learns the Sector Seven plate is going to be dropped. All he feels is how everything went pale, numb.

And Heidegger is laughing now. A loud obnoxious sound.

Rufus Shinra, in his pristine white suit, halts at the gate of the fencing.

"I told you to stop that horse laugh," he snaps at Heidegger. "Things are different than when my father was around. Get that in your head."

Cloud shrinks into the alcove between two buildings. He can't be seen, not by Heidegger, who might recognize him through this disguise.

Rufus puts hands on hips. The ivory suit jacket opens, and the shotgun is visible holstered at his side. Heidegger stands next to him. Both are surveying the airship.

Cloud's hatred towards Heidegger condenses. All those innocent people, crushed to death, simply because Cloud saved Tifa's life. And Barret's. Those two people were worth the destruction of thousands more. It's that type of insane logic that can't be allowed to reign. Yet here Heidegger is — unscathed, walking next to the president of the company. Smiling.

Cloud grits his teeth. No, he can't do anything here. He's supposed to be dead. They'd all agreed it was for the best that Shinra believes that.

Except… He glares at Heidegger.

The two executives are discussing something at length. Cloud inches closer and crouches beneath an exterior staircase. If anyone were to approach from the opposite end of the avenue, they'd see him, but he's taking that risk to overhear. Without realizing it, his hand rests on his hilt.

"And where are we with the timeline?" Rufus is saying.

"Ready within a few days, sir. Without Hojo soaking up those extra funds, we are back on schedule. His resignation may be the best thing to come of all this," Heidegger replies.

A resignation? Hojo would never willingly leave Shinra, Cloud thinks. The professor was too enamored with his research. Although between his prized specimen running off, that thing in the basement escaping, and the dead president…

"Excellent," Rufus says. "I want to know as soon as it's airborne."

"Yes, sir."

The two stroll along the fence. Rufus clasps his hands behind his back while Heidegger trails like a loyal dog. Cloud won't remain concealed for long. Heidegger is getting closer. Cloud's hand itches, his muscles demand retribution for the demise of Sector Seven. He saw how broken-hearted Tifa was, how defeated Barret looked. The dust of the dead covered everyone in that excruciating aftermath.

Rufus lowers his voice. "And the man in the black cape?"

The words capture Cloud at once. Black cape was how Palmer described Sephiroth.

"The Turks have no suspects, yet," Heidegger says.

"I saw the latest reports mention the docks."

"Yes. But we've scoured every plank aboard every ship. There's no sign."

"Then it's possible he's already overseas. This cannot continue. You need to find this man, whoever he is, and you need to do it now."

"Yes, sir."

"My father may have been patient with your blunderings, but I won't be."

"...Yes, sir."

The executives part at the administrative building. Rufus enters with a white keycard, and Heidegger remains in the street. Once Rufus is gone, Heidegger punches his fist against his palm and curses. Heidegger is now alone, and there's a sudden lead on Sephiroth.

Cloud glances around. There are cameras stationed at regular intervals, but between the buildings are shadows.

Heidegger walks off, muttering, and Cloud trails him. As soon as they are out of earshot of the workers around the airship, Cloud calls out to him.

"Sir. There's something to report."

Heidegger turns with a snarl.

"What are you doing up here, soldier? Everyone should be down at the festivities."

Cloud salutes, stands tall. "Yessir, but you need to see this."

He's decided how to deal with Heidegger, and the sensation is freeing. It races in his veins, what he's about to do. It's all he's wanted to do since getting that phone call in Sector Six.

Heidegger hesitates. He's suspicious.

"It's about the man in the black cape. Sir," Cloud says.

This is enough to entice. Heidegger's eyes light up.

"Alright, soldier. Show me."

Cloud salutes and turns, leading the way. The street remains deserted. The hammering and welding noises from the airship fade. He keeps an eye out for cameras and heads into a secluded alley behind the barracks. The view opens onto the ocean at the topmost part of the tier. A curved perimeter fence is all that protects the termination of the alley from a sheer drop. A seagull floats by.

"This way, sir."

But Heidegger has stopped. He's not a stupid man, and Cloud has run out of deception.

"What is this, soldier?" Heidegger asks. He's reaching for the pistol on his belt.

Cloud takes no chances. He unsheathes his sword and dashes around to block Heidegger's exit.

Heidegger draws, aims steady. Beady eyes narrow at Cloud. A row of teeth shows above the beard.

"What the hell are you playing at, soldier?!"

"I'm not a SOLDIER," Cloud says, throwing off the MP helmet. "Hello again."

The shock on Heidegger's face is worth all this risk alone. He stumbles back, mouth gaping.

"Y-You!? You're alive!?" Then he recovers fast and lets out a bellow. "Of course you're alive. I should've known it wouldn't be so easy to kill Hojo's little monster."

The word pushes Cloud darkly. "Monster?" he repeats in whisper. But of course, that's all Heidegger ever thought of him. "No. You're the monster here."

"Tell yourself whatever you want, son." Heidegger holds the barrel steady at Cloud. His thumb flips off the safety. "I bet you aren't bulletproof at this range."

The sword catches sunlight between them.

"You killed all those people," Cloud says. "And for nothing. You're despicable."

Heidegger is stoic. "You've got ten seconds to beg for mercy, and maybe I'll take you back into Shinra's custody. Maybe I'll let you come home."

"Home?" Cloud laughs. "You just don't get it."

Heidegger fires. The blast happens in slow-motion to Cloud as the blade shifts in his hands, deflecting the bullet. Then again, against another shot. Cloud closes the distance in two steps, swinging the sword upwards in a practiced arc. Practiced under Heidegger's orders against real monsters.

The sword slices through the gun. It clatters to the concrete in two parts. Heidegger's expression melts into surprise. The blade pivots as Cloud controls its momentum into Heidegger's shoulder and chest. Bone and flesh split.

It happens so fast. Heidegger falls, bubbling red down his chest, crumpling into dark-stained wreckage. Cloud stands, breathing fast, sword dripping. It's ecstasy he's feeling. And it astonishes him.

Heidegger clutches his bleeding shoulder with his good arm, but it's all over. There's no recovery from this wound at the rate Heidegger's life is pooling out.

"You...you...amalgam of failure…" Heidegger seethes through blood-soaked teeth. "Everything Hojo touches… He should've left you dead…"

Cloud watches him writhe from this position of ultimate control.

"You'll never harm anyone else," Cloud says, and he brings the sword down into Heidegger's face.

The weapon cracks apart the executive's skull. Gore spills out, and bits of Heidegger ooze onto the sun-drenched concrete. The wind roars up, and Cloud can taste the saltwater in the air. He spits.

"Fucking Heidegger."

He doesn't know if he's killed someone before, up close like this. He expects to feel something bad, remorse or anxiety. Panic. But he doesn't. He feels nothing. There's a hollow place in the world where Heidegger once was, and that's all.

He's not sure if he should tell the others. Tifa should be happy. Barret would be thrilled. But somehow he's worried what they will think of the way he's done it. Well, it had to be done. A man like Heidegger couldn't be allowed to live. Or did that logic make him no different, justifying killing?

Cloud doesn't contemplate it further. It's making his head spin.

He wipes the blade clean on Heidegger's jacket and sheaths the weapon. It's time to get to the docks.

He exits the oceanview alley with helmet on, visor pulled low. Security cameras caught him entering with Heidegger and leaving alone, but with any luck, the investigations will be internal before someone smart realizes Cloud is alive. And apparently dangerous. He can't believe he's murdered a Shinra executive. He's truly fallen in with the terrorists now.

Once he leaves the upper tier, the heartbeat choking him settles. The docks, he focuses, get to the docks.

The rest of the city remains in celebratory mode. Parties continue. Bars are handing out free drinks, and high spirits abound.

Cloud dials Barret on the PHS.

"Yo. We're in," Barret says at once. "Yuffie came through. But damn, this place is a spectacle! You know 'bout this parade shit?"

"No," Cloud says. "Took me by surprise, too. Are Tifa and Aerith with you?"

"Yeah, and Red."

"Red?"

"Nanaki. Yuffie's got all sorta nicknames goin'. This one kinda stuck. Where you at?"

"I was in the upper tier," Cloud says, keeping an eye out for trouble. "Rufus is here."

Barret spits. "That weasel. We oughta take him out!"

"Negative. I learned that Sephiroth was last seen at the docks. Shinra thinks he's gone overseas."

"Hmph, so we ain't blowing any of Shinra's shit up, then?"

"You're welcome to. But I'm going to see if I can get on a ship. Meet at the docks, if you're interested. And relay this to Tifa, please. And Aerith and Nanaki."

He hangs up, curious how that ninja managed to smuggle in the whole group. Perhaps he misjudged her.

The ocean overtakes the view as he nears the docks through the lowest tier. Red banners wave, MPs enjoy drinks with helmets off, and a black helicopter lifts from the upper tier.

Cargo ships and schooners pack the docks. Sailors who could care less about the inauguration of a new president move pallets and inspect crates. The trade overseas to Costa del Sol and beyond must continue.

Cloud watches the workers loading freight up the gangways. These cargo ships are Shinra property. There are no passenger liners or ferries today.

"What do you think you're doing, soldier?" a sharp voice interrupts.

An officer stands beside him.

"And what is this weapon you're carrying? That's not standard-issue."

He doesn't have a reply prepared, but something about this woman is familiar. A smirk touches the corner of her mouth. Emerald eyes shine beneath the brim of her cap.

"...Aerith?" he whispers, leaning close.

She giggles. "Bingo."

The uniform fits her well, and she looks kinda good in it.

"Wh-what're you doing here?" he asks, then lowers his voice. "I mean, wearing that?"

"Oh, do you like?" She gives a little twirl.

"Are the others here, too?"

"Somewhere. We split up once Yuffie got us in. How'd you two meet, anyhow?"

"That's not important. We need to figure out which ship to stow away on." He returns his attention to the cargo ships lining the port. "That is, if you're coming with me overseas."

"To chase down Sephiroth?" she says. "You know I'm in."

Vengeance underpins her motive as well as his. They stand together watching. Each ship looks identical, and it's not clear which is leaving soonest.

"So what did you see?" Aerith says, keeping eyes ahead.

"See?"

"On the upper tier. Barret says you were there."

"Oh." A flash of Heidegger's corpse floats up. He blinks it away. "Not much. Except there was a very large unfinished airship."

Her eyes go wide. "Oh yeah? I've never been on an airship before."

"They're nothing special," he says, though he can't remember if he's been on an airship either.

"Will you take me on one someday?"

The request is so innocent, a slum dweller like herself never having the luxury of travel by flight.

"Sure," he says with a smile. "Yeah, I'll take you someday."

Simple enough to bring her a little happiness.

"So, which cargo ship?" he says. "To make our escape."

She ponders, running a finger along her jaw. He surveys likewise. There's something about that last ship that keeps his eye returning to it. Maybe it's the least guarded?

"That one," Aerith says, pointing at exactly the one he was thinking.

"Agreed," he says.

He dials Tifa. She answers with a slew of background noise. He tells her the plan, though he has to practically yell it with one hand cupped around the receiver.

Barret shows up moments later with Nanaki at his heels, and Cloud chokes out a laugh. Barret's disguise is an oversized white sailor outfit complete with an ill-fitting cap.

"You look like a marshmallow," Cloud says, stifling laughter.

"Hey, this happens to be more comfortable than that sorry-ass getup you have on!" Barret retorts. "I was never gonna put on no Shinra colors anyways."

"I think it looks cute on you," Aerith says.

Nanaki purrs out a chuckle. Cloud notes the glances they are getting from strangers. They shouldn't hang around like this.

"I'll wait for Tifa," he says. "You all get on that ship. And stay hidden. We'll meet up on the other side, in Costa del Sol."

"Who made you leader?" Barret replies.

"Just go."

Aerith, Barret, and Nanaki make for the dock, while Cloud exhales, satisfied at last that his plan is back on track. Confronting the General is key, he is certain. He may not survive another encounter against Sephiroth, but nothing else feels right.

Then a flicker invades. An eyeless gaze. A grotesque torso. Fingernails beneath his skull. The fear doesn't come, though. Inside is something deeper he can't pinpoint. Something like admiration. Longing.

...Jealousy?

"Cloud!" Tifa appears, breaking his spiraling thoughts. She's also wearing an MP uniform.

"Oh, Tifa," he breathes out. Their arms lock. Pulled from his reverie, he wants human contact. Anything to dispel that otherworldly feeling. Then he realizes how close he's pulled her and releases. "I'm glad you made it."

"Wouldn't let you run off without me now," she says.

He likes the way she talks to him, like a true friend. No mischief or irony or undertones. It's refreshing and honest.

"Or me!" Yuffie bounces into view. She's got a Shinra uniform on, too.

"What's this?" Cloud says. "You're coming along? I thought you wanted—"

"To steal your money, yes, I know," Yuffie dismisses. "But I get the feeling you'll need me again. And I guess I could spend my time helpin' you out."

Cloud is about to protest, but Tifa sees this and speaks first. "Can't hurt to have a little extra help. Especially with what we're up against. Right, Cloud?"

Yuffie nods. "Shinra. Sephiroth. Yep, all bad news. I mean, I don't personally have anything against Sephiroth, but your leader friend filled me in on the basics, and he sounds like a total jerk to me."

That's one way to put it, Cloud thinks.

"And the uniforms?" he asks Yuffie. "I thought you said my disguise plan was a bad idea!"

There's that sneaky grin again.

"Nevermind," Cloud says. "Let's figure a way aboard that ship. Stealthily."

Yuffie salutes with exaggeration and ventures off, helmet teetering atop her head.

He's alone with Tifa. People move around them like a sea shifting.

"I hate being here," Tifa says. "All these remnants of war. All the death Shinra's caused." She glances at Cloud. "It must be strange to wear that uniform again."

"It is," he admits. The last time he wore this shade of blue there was a sword sticking in his belly. "You should go on ahead, onto the ship," he says. "Find a good place to hide. I'll be there shortly."

She nods. A brief lovely smile answers him. She salutes with a wink before vanishing in the crowds. He's glad she decided to stay with him on this next part. But of course, confronting Sephiroth is every bit in her bones as his.

Everything seems to be falling into place. And the world is rid of one less Shinra psychopath.

Cloud waits until the last call to ensure the ship will leave without incident. The sun is low, a vibrant red dipping into the horizon. Yes, everything seems okay, yet he cannot reconcile that subtle sensation. Beneath his blood, beneath his consciousness. A secondary heartbeat. Almost anxiety.