Chapter 15
Bernice stared at the two luminescent orbs cupped in her palms. They had been placed, almost reverently into in hands just moments ago.
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(Flashback)
In the weaponry, Bernice tended to her gun-blade, furiously cleaning the various parts and sharpening the blade. Everything had to be perfect, clean and in working condition. She was heading into her first real mission and any flaws in her weapon could result in dire consequences. "No mistakes, no hesitation,"she murmured the line Vincent constantly reminded her of.
'Click', a thunder materia slides into the materia slot.
Footsteps approach. Bernice shifted her concentration to her approaching comrade.
"Shelke, I'm just about finished. Is it time?"
The girl in her DG battle suit shook her head. "I wanted to give you these." She held out her hand, revealing a pair of materia.
Bernice stood, slightly abashed at the unexpected gesture.
Shelke continued, "Mastered materia, fire and blizzard."
She didn't know what to say. Materia were as dangerous as they were valuable. Ordinary elemental materias (the only kind she had been permitted to have) could unleash substantial power, the power a mastered materia could exert would be tremendous. And she, a humble apprentice who'd only been exposed to merely two years of training, was to be entrusted with them?!
"Thank you." She uttered, when she had found her voice.
Shelke nodded, smiling.
The materias are placed into her hands.
"Vincent and I will meet you in the stern in five. You know what to do after the drop, right?"
"Yeah. Team 3, to rendezvous with Team 1 and 2 in front of the church."
Shelke departed.
(Flashback ends)
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The magic of the materias made her palm tingle. Their power was eminent, making the thunder materia she had equipped earlier seem…insignificant.
Hastily, the thunder materia is replaced into a materia-chain hanging from the gun-blade's hilt. The well-hidden materia slots are now adorned by fire and ice.
With her gun-blade holstered and healing aids accounted for, Bernice strides out to take her place amongst her team mates, awaiting deployment.
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"Lieutenant," Bernice shouted, the roar of the engine drowning her voice.
"Ma'am," The young lieutenant responded in a half-shout.
"Have the men maintain 'V-formation'. Stay close till we reach the rendezvous point, then move as units of six afterwards."
"Will do, ma'am! Is there anything else?"
She hesitated, and then said, "Tell them to be careful."
He nodded in affirmation. Her orders are then relayed to the remaining troopers. Bernice would be leading a team of one dozen, excluding herself.
Once his orders were completed, the lieutenant cast a glance at his commander. The young man had been dubious when he was informed that he and his men would be led by a rookie gun-blader with no experience in the battlefield. However, when he had met her, he found that Bernice proved to have a flare in leadership (even if she was still a little 'wet behind the ears'). He was also surprised to find that she had a reasonable, albeit still lacking, proficiency in battle tactics. If nothing else, at least she's confident. He mused
Bernice cracked a slight smile when she noticed the lieutenant looking at her. Being entrusted with the lives of a dozen men had been nothing short of scary. Still, from the moment she arose to the task, she had committed herself to being the best leader that she could be. Confidence on her part, or even pretence of confidence, would be essential in upholding the team's morale. Also, she took care to play an active, though not overly-so, part in setting their tactics. During which she was thankful for all the time she'd spent acquiring a wealth of knowledge regarding battle tactics and strategies whilst conversing with her mentors and the soldiers at the WRO headquarters. I just hope I didn't sound too incompetent. She sighed. Oh well, too late to turn back now.
Four minutes till deployment. All three teams were already strapped unto the newest models of WRO hover boards, anxiously awaiting for the drop off to commence.
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A deafening alarm sounded as the hatch was opened. The speakers boomed, "Team 1, drop at will."
Shelke's team zoomed off the runway, followed shortly by Vincent's team as soon as the signal was given.
Bernice braced herself as the speakers boomed, "Team 3, drop at will." She accelerated, the thrill was exhilarating. Soon, she was cascading towards the chaotic scene, with her team at her heels, gun-blade in hand, poised to strike.
All around them, the battalion of airship was sending a hail of missiles towards the DG troops which were steadily demolishing the city. Below, both Vincent and Shelke could be seen leading their teams enroute to the rendezvous point.
Several swift aerial maneuvers and close calls found Bernice and her team out of the cross-fire and amongst enemy troops. Her bullets found their mark on far-away targets while white metal brought down many an unlucky trooper who strayed too close to her path. Occasionally, she would swerve, dip or climb in order to avoid an obstacle as she performed the dance of death atop her mobile hover board.
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Miraculously, they arrive unscathed. The square in front of the church seemed like an island of calm amidst a sea of chaos. Here, the terrible sounds of war sounded distant, almost fictitious.
Vincent and Shelke were already on foot, and were waiting for her. Their teams had initiated the sweep of Kalm, taking down the DG as well as evacuating civilians.
She and her team disembarked, and sent their boards on auto-pilot back to the headquarters. "Team 3, move out!" she barked.
"Ma'am!" the men cried in unison before splitting forces and heading off in a north-easterly direction.
She turned towards her friends, who exchange amused looks.
"What?" she asked, still feeling slightly flustered after the wild ride.
Before anyone could answer, there was a resounding 'Crash!' as half a dozen revolutionized DG guard hounds, each the size of heavily built Great Danes, leap out of the church, reducing the doors of the latter to splinters in the process.
The trio abruptly turned to face their foes.
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Back at the WRO headquarters, Reeve Tuesti was busy coordinating the command centre executives as they relayed orders to the individual squads when an officer approached him.
"Commissioner, a call from Wutai."
"I'll take it in my office. Have it on visual."
"Sir!"
Reeve entered his private room and turned on the big screen mounted on the wall behind his desk. The fuzzy image gradually cleared to reveal a certain perky ninja. Although there were no explosions or gun-fire to be heard, the commissioner noted sadly, flaming wreckage in the background which had once been a beautiful Wutaian bungalow. Smoke billowed from somewhere off-screen.
"Reeve, DG has sounded the retreat here in Wutai. We have the situation under control and the troops are tending to the injured and the…er…fallen." The last was uttered with a hint of sorrow.
"Excellent, we'll send the medic team."
"Great, how are the others holding up?" asked the ninja, sounding suddenly concerned.
"Vincent, Shelke and Bernice have just arrived in Kalm." Reeve replied.
"And, Cloud and the gang?"
Reeve sighed, "We lost contact with them not too long ago."
"What?" Yuffie shouted.
But before he could answer, an unfamiliar voice, female and with a Russian accent, could be heard. "So, we meet again, Wutai flea." There was a bout of cold laughter.
"You! You're that…" Yuffie started to say.
From somewhere off-screen, a steady stream of Cid's colorful vocabulary, accompanied by Nanaki's growls could be heard.
A hail of gun-fire.
A splash of blood on the screen.
The perspective veers upwards, towards a sky, tainted with ashes.
A bullet pierces the camera's lens.
And then, the buzz of static. The screen blurred with fuzzy streaks of white, gray and black.
"Yuffie!" the Commissioner had yelled.
He sighed in resignation. It was no use. Now, he'd lost contact with Wutai as well. Clearly, he had somehow underestimated the enemy. He only hoped that the trio in Kalm was alright.
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Unfortunately, not everything, in fact, hardly anything, ever happens the way we want them to. The moment those hounds attacked, bullets began raining. However, it wasn't long before the gun-slingers founds that it was to no avail.
The bullets did not slow their advancement. In fact, the fanged monstrosities hadn't even flinched when shot at.
Shelke charged forward, EM sabers at the ready. Vincent followed suit, with his golden claw bared.
A hound pounced. Bernice spun, effectively catching the beast's teeth with her blade. She jerked her gun-arm, throwing the hound backwards by several yards. As it got up, Bernice charged and delivered a stream of swings and backhands.
She scowled in frustration. How thick is this hide?! Although the hound faltered each time she swung her gun-blade, the hits drew no blood, only a stubborn 'Thwack'.
She risked a glance at her two comrades. None of them had any more luck than she did, although Shelke's EM sabers managed to char their fur.
Before her, the hound reared. Instinctively, she brought the blade upwards. The swung proved true, resulting in a sickening 'Schrok' (ssh-crok).
Its limp body fell to the ground, dead.
"Vincent, Shelke, their throats!" she yelled as she engaged another hound.
The battle became much easier after that. And soon, all the hounds lay dead in their own crimson pools.
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They proceeded through the city, checking all the nooks and crannies for survivors and dispatching any foe they met to the Lifestream, just as Bernice and Vincent had done during their simulation.
The magic of elemental materia proved just as effective against hounds as slitting their throats. The gang used those sparingly however, for fear of running out of magic. Bernice had avoided using any of the mastered materia, partially because she wanted to take the opportunity to make her thunder materia grow.
"Is it just me, or are these things harder to kill than before?" she voiced in frustration after yet another ambush by a DG squad.
She wiped the blade clean on the uniform of the DG trooper she had just killed.
"It would seem that they have enhanced the physiology of the troops." Shelke replied nonchalantly.
Vincent kept his silence, as usual. He leaned against the side of the alley and drained a bottle of elixir.
"Very perceptive of you, Shelke." A familiar voice sounded.
All three shot to their attack stances. Muscles twitched, as if aching to spring.
"Tisk, tisk, Bernice. We never meant you any harm, you know? I only came to offer my services as an instructor…"
Footsteps, heavy and deliberate, echoed through the alleyway.
None of them moved or spoke. They were fixated on trying to discern the source of the footsteps, the whereabouts of their foe. Smoke and ash clouded their eyes, making them water. This made things complicated as they had to rely on hearing and sense of vibrations to find him—which was terribly difficult as everything seemed to echo and vibrate in that alley.
A small object fell from above. A clang of metal upon tar-road could be heard.
White smoke erupted from the metallic canister. The air was suddenly heavy with the smell of alcohol.
"Don't breath!" Vincent had cried.
It was too late. Bernice heard her two friends falter and drop to the ground, before she too, fell unto her knees, senses dulled by the gas.
With her head spinning, she just managed to catch a glimpse of the lower torso of a man approaching. He wore a pair of white pants. His black boots were worn high, up to his knees…
She slumped to the ground, unconscious.
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She woke up in a bed. The room was dark, save for the scant light filtering from a nearby window. From that, she could discern that several hours had passed since the incident in the alley.
Her head swam. The effects of the alcohol-based seeping gas lingered still.
She moaned as she tried to get up. Her hands flew to her head, as pain and dizziness rang through her cranium.
The pain subsided. Her head now felt like lead. She forced herself up gingerly. A hand upon the bed head steadied her torso as it swayed on the spot. It was then that she remembered…
"Vincent! Shelke!" she half-shouted. She broke into a run, only to have another wave of pain and dizziness reverberate through her head. She fell to her knees, hands clutching the sides of her head, moaning.
"Hangovers…quite unsettling the first time round, aren't they?" The voice, though not entirely unpleasant, was cold. The man from the alley strode out of the shadows.
She shuddered at the words. Her hand abruptly went to her holster, only to find it missing. She cursed under her breath.
"Don't worry, your things are on the table, ALL of it."
Weiss handed her a vial. "Drink!" He commanded. "Our leader will not tolerate a drunken girl in his presence."
She turned away, and said in a somewhat slurred voice, "Yeah, he'd probably prefer his captives dead."
He let the comment slide. He'd been given explicit orders not to harm her. He tried again in a more gentle tone. "Drink it." He coaxed. "It will make you feel better."
Seeing that she hadn't a choice, she accepted the vial. She braced herself for the worst, and then took the draught. It was bitter and spicy.
Her head cleared instantaneously. She sighed in relief and stood up.
She fixed Weiss in a cold, hard stare. "Where are my friends?"
He looked slightly bemused by the question. "All in good time," he said maliciously. He continued in a more commanding tone. "But first, our leader will see you at his quarters."
"What does he want with me?"
"To bargain, I suppose." He replied casually.
"What on earth could possess him to think that I would agree to anything he has to 'bargain'?" She retorted angrily.
In a dangerous voice, he answered, "Oh, I think you'll find him to be quite persuasive. Besides, I'm sure it's an offer you couldn't refuse." He paused, giving the last some time to sink in.
She remembered her friends. She feared the worst, but refused to let it show. She continued to glare at him.
He continued, "Get your things. He doesn't like waiting."
She did as she was told (and was surprised and extremely relieved to find that all her things were, in fact accounted for).
Before marching her to the said location, his hands contacted his twin gun-blades, indicating that any attempt to escape would be futile.
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Author's note:
Yayness, it's still Vincent's Birthday (In some parts of the world anyway)! Happy Birthday, Vincent! ...I guess. (give me a break, this chapter is 8 pages long, not including this ac)
The exams are finally over, and I was (also finally) able to continue the story. I feel kinda sorry that I have to put him through this on his birthday, though…oh well, least I moved the torture part till next chapter.
Also, I'm happy to announce that I now have 1282 hits (thank you! I touches me deeply that so many made the time to read) and…um…4 reviews (also, a big thank you). Hm…is it just me or is something just not adding up?! nudge, nudge
Eh, does anyone know the name of that 'G' guy in Dirge? I'm not certain. Is it Gackt or Genesis?
Oh, and I know I've mixed up some of the tenses in this chapter (sorry, I couldn't help it). And since I haven't played ff7 (amazing, I know), I have no idea what Wutai looks like (feel free to enlighten me). One more thing, does anyone besides me feel that this story lacks…emotion? If so, please give me some pointers as to how I can write more…er…emotionally.
Once again, THANK YOU, readers, for staying with me thus far. I won't disappoint you.
Valentinemenitis.