Chapter 12

She was falling...

One second, she was on firm ground, then the next, it seemed like the ground had swallowed her whole into a deep abyss. The vision before her eyes darkened as she tumbled endlessly.

Despite the shock, she managed to land lightly on the metal platform under her. Her hand instinctively came to rest on her gun-blade. Bernice took a moment to thank her lucky stars that Tifa taught her how to free fall earlier that day.

Bernice stood up from her kneeling position and looked over the railing. Her surroundings were, in a word: Chaos. She appeared to be in a city at night. The remnants colorful tents and festival decorations lay scattered, littering the streets. Smoke arose in various parts of the city, making the air dry and dusty. Crackling flames threw eerie shadows on the stone walls. Familiar uniformed soldiers were ushering adults and children into large metal containers.

"What's going on? Where am I?" She was so caught up in curiosity, that she only noticed the three soldiers behind her at the last possible second.

The trio opened fired as Bernice spun around, gun-blade flying from her holster to her hand. She deflected the bullets with ease. After a few shots, the soldiers ran out of bullets and had to reload. Bernice saw the window of opportunity and took aim.

The soldiers froze at the unexpected resistance. Bernice grinned at their astonishment. Her cocked her gun and her index finger started to squeeze the trigger. Then, she hesitated. A bead of sweat ran down the brow, her grin replaced with a face of uncertainty. Am I really a killer?

One of the DG soldiers recovered and having finished reloading his gun, he pointed his gun at Bernice. BANG!

Bernice's eyes grew wide as the sound of gunfire repeated two more times. She stood, dumbfounded as the soldiers on the roof in front of her collapse one by one.

Bernice turned swiftly to see Cerberus smoking at the barrels. Vincent lowered his gun and said in a harsh tone, "NEVER hesitate!"

Bernice shrunk under her tutor's intimidating gaze. Blushing slightly, she apologized.

Vincent's harsh tone was replaced with his deep, soothing voice. "Don't hesitate. It's either their blood or yours, preferably theirs though. Come on, we have much ground to cover." He turned to walk across a long pipe that adjoined the platform that they were on with another.

Bernice followed in silence. When they were safely on the other side, Bernice finally mustered enough courage to ask, "Where are we?"

"Kalm." Her tutor said, not looking back.

"'Calm'? This is anything but calm!"

"It once was," Vincent said, with only the slightest hint of sorrow in his voice.

Bernice noticed this. You don't train four times a week and not know when your teachers are expressing their sorrow (even when they were impassive. And Vincent Valentine was about as impassive as they came).

"There is no time to explain. Just utilize what you've been taught over the two years and you will endure. Just don't go getting yourself killed."

Vincent led Bernice down a nearby stairway. So far, they had been able to slip past two companies of soldiers on patrol.

Down and down they went, with their senses on high alert and guns at the ready. The smell of charred flesh and burning debris chocked their senses. As they neared the bottom landing, an overwhelming smell wafted through the air causing Bernice's stomach to knot. However, if Vincent had smelt it, he showed no signs of discomfort.

Bernice pondered. She just couldn't put her finger on what could have caused such a putrid smell. Her curiosity was answered as they reached the bottom landing. The sight before them nearly made her double over with nausea.

The rancid heap lay before their feet. Flies swarmed in frenzy above what was once the body of a man, oblivious to both gunmen and the stifling heat. There were gaping holes in the thighs as well as the upper torso. Squiggles of pink viscera could be seen amongst the bloody mass. The man's features were contorted in an expression of pure terror.

She looked away and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. It was a while before she felt Vincent's ruby eyes bearing softly down upon her.

"What monster…" She choked on these words.

"A Deep Ground guard hound." He explained. "This," He indicated the corpse. "This is why we fight…why we kill. Evil unchallenged is evil sanctioned. We destroy evil to stop them from denying the innocent of their lives, and of their freedom."

Unbidden tears streamed inexorably down her face. She didn't know why she cried. Perhaps it was the fear, the uncertainty…no…she cried because she knew…her future would be a bloody struggle. Either way, she was thankful that Vincent had let her be. Her heart ached for someone to hold her, to comfort her, and to tell her that everything would be alright. She felt so…alone. But she knew, Vincent's silence was his way of comforting others.

For several minutes, silence was perturbed only by the crackling sound of nearby fires and the buzzing of flies. Bernice locked her gazed into Vincent's ruby-red eyes. She felt better, knowing that she wouldn't have to traverse the perilous streets of Kalm on her own. Her tear-stained face shone in the firelight. With determination in her now-tearless eyes, she said, "Let's go."

Vincent nodded, his face betraying no emotions whatsoever. Before them, the remains melted into a billion shining specks. Both the corpse and its odor faded away. It's gone back to the lifestream…

Vincent opened the door on the other side of the landing. His eyes widened as he realized that he had forgotten to ready the Cerberus. Unfortunately, the Deep Ground Soldier waiting on the other side had been well-prepared for the confrontation.

It was only due to Vincent's innate instincts that the bullet intended for his chest merely grazed his left shoulder. However, before the Cerberus had cleared its holster, a second gun-fire had sounded.

The soldier went limp. Immediately, he knew that Bernice had fired her gun-blade while he was trying to dodge the bullet. When this realization had settled upon him, he was at once proud of his student's steadfastness as well as ashamed of his own carelessness. But, this was no time to be distracted by his emotions. He shook them off, wincing a little as he did so.

"Mr. Valentine, are you alright?"

To tell the truth, he wasn't certain. It shouldn't have hurt that bad. He put the Cerberus away so that he could use his hand to apply pressure on the wound. The pain caused him to lean against the door-frame. He was confused. It REALLY shouldn't be hurting this badly. He removed his hand from the wound only to find twice as much blood as he had expected. The wound continued to bleed. Something's definitely not right.

He turned his gaze towards Bernice, and said, "Bernice, bring me his gun."

She didn't hesitate to respond. She retrieved the weapon in question and handed it to him. He fiddled with it, staining it with his blood-stained glove. He emptied the magazine, and to his astonishment, he found himself holding crimson bullets. Death penalty bullets! How…? No, must keep calm.

"Mr. Valentine?" Bernice was worried. In her mind's eye, Vincent Valentine was a hero, silent and strong. There was no way he could be felled by a single bullet. After all, the bullet hit no critical areas. It was only a graze to his shoulder…right?

"There isn't much time. Let's get out of here." That was all he said. There was no point in worrying her. But he could not hide the fact that what had began as a harmless exercise, had become a serious mission. He had to get them to the fountain quickly.

They made their way through the streets. He continued to ignore the searing pain in his shoulder, and held Cerberus weakly in his hand.

Whenever they saw civilians being chased by Deep Ground, Vincent and Bernice would shoot down their pursuers. Also, they had checked every nook and cranny along the streets to assure the survivors that the coast was clear, and to give them the directions to safe zones.

After what had seemed an eternity, they neared a junction filled with several sealed containers and a great fountain. A wave of relief swept through Vincent's being. He was pale (well, paler than usual) from blood-loss and he had begun faltering more and more with every step he took. Here they were at last, the check point where he could get them back to the real world. However, there was still one more task at hand.

Strangely, he had begun to feel better, much better. The familiar tingle made by the magic of a cure materia could be felt. Since he carried no such materia with him, he could only suppose that someone was tending to his body in the real world. He was at once thankful and filled with dread. This could only mean that someone had found him bleeding and unconscious. He was definitely going to get an earful when he 'returned'.

A high-pitched scream pulled him out of his reverie. The girl! Up front, a pair of guard hounds were in hot pursuit of a mother and her child. He knew that in the alley ahead, the mother would soon be killed and the girl dragged away if they didn't act fast.

"Bernice, you get the girl."

She nodded in agreement. Vincent rushed to the aid of the mother. Just as the hound was about to pounce on her, Cerberus's bullets found their mark on fur and flesh, sending its target crashing into the adjacent alley wall. It fell unto the ground, dead.

Meanwhile, Bernice had managed to take down the other hound before it was able to drag its prey into a container.

After witnessing their reunion, Bernice's surroundings blazed into a brilliant white. Her eyelids shut tight, shielding her eyes from the stinging brightness. The ground beneath her melted away. She was falling again.

--------

It was late. Tifa had been pacing the hall, trying to solve the conundrum at hand. Vincent had failed to show up at their meeting earlier that evening. The others had supposed that he had decided to stay back and spend more time training Bernice, and thus no alarm was raised. The fact became evident when she found Bernice missing during dinner. Therefore, everything should be fine.

But if that were so, why was her gut telling her otherwise? She paused and tried to clear her head of what she now considered to be mild paranoia. Surely they couldn't be in any trouble. Vincent's with her. Besides, it was not as if they had left headquarters, right? She furrowed her brow at the thought. No. Even Vincent, with his fondness for being elusive, wouldn't run off without telling them. She contemplated on going to check up on them. No, we agreed never to interrupt each other during training sessions. She reminded herself that training sessions didn't end until the instructor called for the dismissal.

The sound of quick, approaching footsteps drew her out of her thoughts. Instinctively, her body tensed itself into a defensive position. She relaxed only when the figure had come into view and registered in her mind.

"Jason?" Tifa asked, raising a questioning eyebrow. The WRO soldier stopped suddenly in front of Tifa, gasping for breath. He gave her a weak salute.

"What is it?" she asked anxiously. Something was obviously wrong.

"Blood!" he half-shouted.

Tifa took no pain to hide her dismay, "Where?"

"…shooting range…Mr. Valentine…Bernice…unconscious…metal bands on their heads…tried waking…no response…" he gasped with each painful breath.

Tifa's expression was now a mixture of shock and dismay. Grabbing Jason's shoulders, she said, "Go to the lab, get Shelke to meet us at the shooting range. Hurry!"

"Yes, ma'am!" And he was off.

Before hearing his response, Tifa had already broken into a run. As she tore towards the shooting range, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed Cloud's number. C'mon, pick up!

"Tifa?" came a reply.

"Cloud, shooting range, NOW! And bring a cure materia."

Cloud knew better than to argue. The task sounded urgent. "Right," he said. Tifa hung up and pocketed her phone.

Before long, Tifa reached the eastern block. The shooting range was located on the second floor.

A drop of blood fell from above, causing her to make an abrupt stop. She followed it with her gaze. The small patch of concrete had been stained red. No! She shook her head in disbelief.

Just then, she heard, "Tifa, what's wrong?" Cloud and Shelke had arrived.

She turned a fearful gaze at her friends and stared back at the crimson puddle.

Their eyes widened at the sight of the blood. Cloud's voice cut through the still air, "Upstairs, now!"

The trio ran up the stairs and came upon a pair of bullet-proof glass doors. Blood oozed from under the doors, forming a steady stream, flowing to the edge of the corridor, where it would eventually trickle down into the puddle they'd seen earlier.

The doors parted as the trio rushed in. Bernice's limp form was laid neatly on the table. Her gun-blade lay at her side.

Vincent however, was slumped on the floor, next to the door. The source of the blood appeared to be a wound on his shoulder. Indeed, the blood still flowed freely, a peculiarity since Vincent's enhanced physiology should have healed the wound in a matter of minutes. Both of them wore similar metal bands.

Tifa strode towards Bernice and began checking for any signs of injury while Cloud tended to Vincent. He hoisted his comrade-in-arms into a sitting position and removed the stained collar and tattered cloak. Strange, the clothing was intact. Blood continued to seep through the leather. He held the materia over the wound and invoked its power. Meanwhile, Shelke busied herself with studying the metal bands.

Once satisfied that Bernice was unharmed, Tifa turned to Shelke and asked, "What's going on, Shelke?"

"He's using a simulation to train her." She replied matter-of-factly.

"Simulation? Who programmed this? I didn't know the WRO had any training simulations."

"We don't. No one programmed the simulation. Vincent's using his own memories."

"Well, why was he bleeding then?" Cloud interjected.

Shelke shrugged, "I guess he got hurt during the simulation."

This time, it was Tifa who spoke, "But, that means…if they get killed in the simulation…" she couldn't bear to finish the sentence.

Shelke shook her head, "Loss of life during the simulation would only result in the person being pulled out of the virtual reality. However, loss of life here in the real world while a person's mind is in the simulation would cause the person's mind to stay stuck in that virtual reality."

Cloud frowned and said, "Can you pull them out now?"

"No." she answered. "It's his memory. He's the only one who can end the simulation."

Just then, Vincent opened his eyes. The gun-slinger staggered clumsily to his feet. He was still weak from blood-loss. He had barely taken a few tender steps forwards when he felt Tifa's fist connect with his stomach. He stumbled backwards, out of both pain and shock.

"What were you thinking? You nearly died out here!" he heard her yell. In response, he locked his eyes onto hers, gave her an apologetic shrug and said, "She needed a little help in crossing that last hurdle."

Without another word, he steadied himself using the shelf which lined the wall and made his way gingerly towards his still-unconscious apprentice.

---------

Bernice's eyes fluttered open. She squinted and waited for the fuzzy image to clear and reveal Vincent Valentine looming over her once more.

As her senses returned to her, she realized that she was still in the shooting range. "A dream?" she asked.

Vincent shook his head. "A simulation." He corrected. He helped her off the table and lifted the metal band off her head. He let it clatter onto the table. She had proven herself a formidable fighter and he was pleased.

Wobbling slightly on the spot, Bernice studied her now cloak-less instructor. It was an awkward sight. However, her feelings shifted from numb confusion to anxiousness when she noticed the dried blood caked on his left shoulder. She also noted that he was leaning heavily on his claw, which had gouged deep dents into the edge of the wooden table. He was also clutching his abdomen loosely with his gun-arm.

Vincent's face was pale against the fluorescent lighting. His expression was soft and stoic.

Her face screwed up in concern, "You alright, Mr. Valentine?"

He shook his head. Closing his eyes, he muttered, "Vincent."

"Hmm…?" She cocked her head. Vincent's response had been nearly inaudible.

He threw a soft gaze unto the youthful gun-blader, and with a faint smirk, he said, "Vincent, my friends call me Vincent."

Bernice couldn't help but smile at that. She had finally achieved her goal. With the recent trauma she had faced momentarily forgotten, she basked in euphoria.

Across the room, her three friends mirrored her smile.