Chapter 26 – Plans

This was not the plan. This was absolutely not the plan.

Those were the words that Zack had been repeating to himself for the past five minutes, since he had gotten locked in the bedroom. He was sitting on the edge of the sheets, his side glued to the gilded post of the bedstead in the right corner (why all the objects in the space were coated in this gaudy gold color, he had no idea, but as a boy who had grown up in a modest house in a backwater village, he felt personally offended), trying his best to make himself as small and as invisible as possible. Which was, admittedly, a ridiculous thing to attempt. For it was far too late now, and like a piece of prey trapped by a hungry predator, there was no escaping the predicament he found himself in.

Again, for the record: none of this was the plan.

At least not Zack's plan.

His girlfriend's, however…

Goddamn it, Aerith. Somehow, in the course of everything that had happened, he had managed to forget how terrible of a mischievous streak the flower girl could have, particularly when she put her mind to it. In fact, when the whole ordeal had begun to jump off the rails and snowball down the hill, Aerith had not batted an eyelash. She just continued to smile sweetly, though the twinkle in her eyes easily gave her away. Tifa, too, seemed to relish the experience, but she was much more subtle about it, stuck to politely covering her mirth behind her hands. And if he were being honest, if he were a random observer and not an outright participant, Zack would have to admit that the situation was indeed hilarious. He even almost found himself laughing at some points, could feel the warmth of it budding in his chest, spurred on by the fact that the two girls he was with actually looked happy for the first time in days. Happy. Since Nibelheim, since Jessie, since Kunsel, Zack was nearly convinced that that emotion had become too far out of reach for someone like him, someone who had lost all that he had. But then, suddenly, he had found it, the tiny piece that made such good things possible.

He had found hope.

That was why Zack was resolved to see this through. It was the only reason he could stomach looking at the man before him now, at the sickly alcohol-yellow skin, at that sneering smile, at the flimsy toupee that appeared to be on the verge of teetering off. He had never met Don Corneo before, though Zack had spent enough time in the slums to have heard the stories. After tonight, however, he would be content with returning to blissful ignorance, with bleaching this entire memory from his brain, with never setting eyes or ears on this gross excuse of a human being, ever again.

"Oh, you're such a big girl. I've never had a girl as big as you before. This will be exciting!"

From the other side of the bed, the Don was looking at him, wriggling his eyebrows as he lounged against the fluffy purple pillows. Ugh. Even the lilt of his voice was disgusting, though perhaps not as disgusting at the filth that had been pouring out of his mouth all evening. He licked his lips, in what Zack assumed was supposed to be a seductive fashion, and cooed, "Baby girl, why don't you shimmy over here and show your daddy some love?"

For a moment, Zack thought about shimmying over and punching Corneo, square in the jaw. But that was not the plan. The plan was information. The plan was finding a way to get topside. They had elected to suffer this trip into the bowels of Wall Market because of a tip, which claimed that Don Corneo and his men had methods of moving above plate to smuggle goods and people, all without Shinra oversight. Those were the very methods that Zack, Tifa, and Aerith had been desperately searching for, and that they were absolutely determined to obtain.

Because they had to get up there. They had to.

Because the real plan was rescuing Cloud, and that was something Zack was determined not to fail at, no matter what.

Even so, in his wildest dreams, he never could have imagined this.

Corneo was now crawling over to him on all fours, panting like some kind of animal. "Oh, baby, you seem to have a lot on your mind," he teased. "Don't worry. Daddy's here, and he can make everything better."

Something like bile was rising in the back of Zack's throat. Seriously? The guy was asking for it! A punch to the face, just one. It would be so satisfying. It would make Zack feel so much better. It would be the perfect soothing balm for an anxious and dreadful week, for the fact that his face felt too heavy from the pounds of make-up, his nose tickled from the perfume he had been dunked in, and his skin itched from the sequined fabric of the dress. Just a curl of the fist, a lift of the arm, a motion forward. So easy. So simple.

But no. That was not the plan.

Still, as the Don moved even closer, as Zack fought the urge to gag, to roll his eyes, to commit murder, he found himself wondering if maybe, just maybe, it should have been.

Five Days Earlier

They had watched the video at least three more times, until the blur of Cloud and his blond hair was seared deep into their minds. Afterwards, Zack and Aerith sprinted to Sector Seven. By then, early evening had settled, darkening the paths through the slums in shades of blue and grey. Though Seventh Heaven was typically open for dinner around this time, the bar remained closed to customers. No one at Avalanche was in the mood to serve drinks and deal with rowdy patrons, not after what had just happened the night before.

So, when Zack burst through the door, his girlfriend stumbling just a few steps behind him, the space was empty, save for Tifa. She was behind the counter, absentmindedly wiping down some plates and cups with a towel. But when she heard them come in, she nearly dropped the glass in her hands out of sheer surprise.

"Gaia!" Tifa said. She closed her eyes and took a second to center her breathing before continuing, in a hushed, stern tone: "Zack, you really shouldn't be here right now."

Zack knew that. He knew that Biggs and Wedge and Barret deserved time and space to mourn, and to not get dragged into another dangerous Shinra plot. After all the time and energy they had spared him, it was unfair for Zack to be here and ask for their help, to ask for even more.

But there was nowhere else he could go.

"Tifa, let me explain."

She dropped the towel. It hit the counter with a light, but decisive smack. "Barret is still angry. He understands that it wasn't your fault and that Shinra set you and your friend up, but he doesn't trust you anymore."

"Seriously, just –"

"Things aren't good, Zack. There is talk of Shinra sending in the military police to sweep the slums for Avalanche and –"

It was at this point that, in her infinite wisdom, Aerith decided to step forward. "Cloud is alive," she declared, her emerald eyes bright even under the dim lighting. "We think he's being kept in Shinra Tower."

The words sunk in slowly, but when they hit, Zack could see their impact. It was there, in the wideness of Tifa's eyes, in the trembling of her hands.

"What?"

Zack pulled out the camera, placed it gently on the bar. "Kunsel left us a video. Evidence from the laboratories in the Tower. Cloud was there."

Disbelief crossed Tifa's features. It was the kind of look that Zack had become familiar with, the natural response of someone who had had their village attacked and torn apart by monsters and burned down by men. When one had paid witness to such atrocities, how could they possibly believe in good again? But unlike Zack, who often found himself powerless against those feelings, Tifa had proven herself to be more resilient. She had been the one to want to join Avalanche, to fight back. She still believed that the world could be different. She still had hope. Her eyes continued to carry the same steel as they had when she had unflinchingly taken the Buster Sword and saved Cloud in the Nibelheim reactor. It was not an exaggeration to say that her strength had been one of the few things that had braced Sephiroth and Zack throughout their journey, that had pushed Zack to keep going, even when he allowed himself to think that there was no more reason to.

It was also why he knew she would believe him, pick up the camera, and watch the clip.

"Is this real?" Tifa asked. There was a tremor in her voice.

He nodded. "Yes. It's real."

Silence, for just a moment. Then, she looked up at him. "We need to go topside. Now."

Zack almost grinned. Almost. He was about to say something encouraging, the kind of thing he used to easily declare to his squad-mates right before an important mission, when another voice cut through the air behind him and swallowed his words whole.

"No," said Barret. The man was crossing the threshold toward the bar, and while his stance was steady, the darkness underneath his eyes betrayed the tiredness and the grief. "You can't be going anywhere. Not now."

Zack moved. "Listen, I know, it's a lot to ask. And it's unfair of me to ask—"

A small scoff. "Then don't ask."

Something like fire flared within him. Zack quickly squashed it with a deep breath. "A friend of mine is trapped in Shinra Tower. I need help to save him."

Barret glanced at him. The gunman's face was inscrutable, and that only served to make Zack more nervous. He had expected flashes of temper, anger, stubbornness. Some cursing. But instead, the person that appeared before him was subdued, and his voice was soft.

"What about our friends?" whispered Barret. "What of them?"

(Jessie's laugh. The way she smiled. Her last words.

"Sorry boss, I think you're gonna have to let me call the shots on this one.")

Zack winced.

Luckily, it appeared that the other man was not in the mood to launch into one of his usual spiels. Instead, Barret brushed past them and picked up the remote control sitting at the edge of the counter. He then turned on the television hanging in the corner of the room. The screen fizzled for a few seconds before revealing the lighted face of the Shinra news broadcasters, all talking in their clipped, declarative tones:

The hunt for those behind the attempted bombing of the Sector Five Reactor continues. Security camera footage reveals that the suspects responsible are a group of four men.

Blurry photographs, difficult to discern. But Zack could pick up a few of the details – his sword, Barret's arm, Biggs's headband, Wedge's shotgun. Enough breadcrumbs for any determined person to find the edge of the trail. Apprehension was beginning to drip like ice water down his spine.

In an attempt to find the terrorists, Shinra has announced two initiatives. The first is a half-million gil reward for any information that leads to an arrest. The second is the declaration of a state of emergency. Starting this evening, all trains will be operating on a reduced schedule with tightened security, and a full suspension of service will be in effect at midnight tonight.

"Oh, no," Aerith breathed.

At that, the gunman put down the remote and turned to face them. "It's playing everywhere," said Barret. "Shinra's locking us in, to hunt us down. I know you want to do something, but right now, if I were you, I would stay low. Don't go anywhere. Don't try anything."

Then, a pause, slow, regretful, followed by:

"Don't want anyone else getting hurt."

And that was it. The reality. The truth. After a few quiet seconds, after the words settled, Barret excused himself and slipped up the stairs to check in on his daughter. Which left Zack, Aerith, and Tifa standing in the bar, weighed down by the silence, and wondering what, if anything, they should do next.

They spent the rest of the evening and much of the next day running through the alternatives. Zack contemplated calling Cissnei, asking her to come back, but after what had happened to Kunsel, he could not bring himself to dial her number. Aerith suggested bribing Shinra guards for access to the last few trains, but they knew they did not have the funds to do so, nor were they remotely prepared for an assault on the Tower. Obtaining a vehicle to drive back up the tracks seemed like a good idea initially, but Tifa pointed out that with the heightened security, they would be stopped before they even emerged from the tunnels. It appeared hopeless. Every road seemed to lead to a dead-end, and every second that passed by with no solid plan only increased the frustration, and the guilt.

Because Cloud was up there. Just right there. Maybe he had been this whole time. Zack did not even want to think about the torture they were subjecting the blond to, did not want to imagine the horrors and the nightmares. But the images of the monsters at Nibelheim, of Sephiroth's stories, of the man in the black robe rotting in the middle of Sector Five, had been permanently etched in his mind. If that was the fate that awaited Cloud, leaving him in the laboratories any longer was not an option. He could not abandon his friend. Not again.

But Zack was beginning to get the feeling that he was just not capable of doing anything else.

The days that followed were slow and excruciating. He spent most of them with Aerith, trying to talk to others in the slums to see if they could garner any information, any keycards, any access, anything at all. But the task became a lot harder once those same people started asking questions in return – about who Zack was, about his sword, about his mako-glowing eyes, about his whereabouts on the night of the attempted bombing. Despite the anti-Shinra sentiment in the slums, a half-million gil reward was a difficult thing to pass up. It was only by Aerith's reputation and quick-thinking that Zack managed to escape through some conversations relatively unscathed, and even then, Barret's warning echoed in his skull. To lay low. To not go anywhere. To not do anything.

To not hurt anyone else.

All the while, Cloud's face continued to haunt his dreams.

By the fifth day, Zack was certain he would snap. It took everything he had not to lash out at Aerith, to not to take his sword and try sprinting up the train tracks, even though he understood how futile an endeavor that would be. But the powerlessness, the remorse, the anger, was too much to bear. It made the nights restless, the days painful. And each morning, when Zack awoke, he was nearly overcome by a frightening desire: to tuck himself back into an obscure corner of the world, a place where he could just disappear, a place where he could wither away into nothing, a place where he could maybe stop failing those that he cared about most.

But then, something happened. A phone call, an unexpected encounter, a slip of the tongue. And while Zack had very little faith in things like luck and fate, especially now, especially after everything Aerith had shared with him, he could not find any other words to explain the series of events that began to unfurl that day.

Except for maybe that destiny (and Aerith and Tifa) had a terrible sense of humor.

The first event was the call. Tifa was brief, and though her statements were matter-of-fact, there was something about the way that her voice sounded through the static of the phone line. She had asked for Zack and Aerith to meet her outside of Wall Market as soon as possible, and when the couple arrived, she was waiting for them a few feet down the road from the chocobo transport station, just as promised.

But there was one thing out of place: Tifa was not alone. A man stood beside her, dressed in blue jeans and an unbuttoned denim jacket, with red hair slicked into a single spike. He looked familiar, though Zack could not exactly place where from, at least not until the guy opened his mouth.

"Yo," the man said, waving his arms enthusiastically. "You're Zack, right? The former SOLDIER bro?"

Oh, yeah. This was Johnny. The same young man who lived next door to Seventh Heaven, and who had gotten into more than a few scrapes that required either Zack or someone else from the Neighborhood Watch to find and rescue him. Besides that, the only other noteworthy piece of information about Johnny was his enormous crush on Tifa; as a result, the martial artist made it a deliberate point to avoid the guy as much as she could politely manage. Except now, Tifa herself was standing right next to him, in a manner that made it clear that she was doing so deliberately.

That shift in behavior made Zack wary. "Depends on who's asking," he replied, hardening his stare. He made sure to stand just so, at an angle that allowed the hilt of the Buster Sword to shine over his shoulder. "And why."

But the aloof response failed to intimidate. Instead, it only served to encourage, because Johnny quickly broke out into a wide grin. "Oh, man! It's definitely you! Did I ever tell you how cool you are, bro? So cool!"

Really? Zack wondered if he should press a bit harder, but then, suddenly, from somewhere behind him, Aerith stifled a giggle. The sound was startlingly sweet, like a bite of warm dessert, and for a moment, Zack recalled a time when the days were easier, when the only thing he worried about was how he could continue to bring out those happy sounds and smiles from the girl that he loved. A part of him recognized that he still wanted to do those things, though he had to admit that he had been doing a very crappy job of it lately.

It was enough to make Zack soften, step back. "Oh, yeah. Well, uh, thanks."

At this point, Tifa brought it upon herself to put the conversation back on track. She turned to Johnny, tilted her head in that manner that made the men at the bar acquiesce to any request she had of them. "Tell them what you told me," she said. And then, probably because she anticipated what was going to happen, added, "The short version, though. Please."

That was the next event: Johnny's story. He did not give the short version. Among the more useless tangents about monster fights in the scrapyard and trips to the restaurants in Wall-Market, there were details about a debt his father owed to the Honeybee Inn and about how Johnny decided to help pay it off by taking some not-entirely-legitimate gigs with Don Corneo's men. But the most important piece, the one that felt like an electric shock to the heart, that turned the entire night on its head, was this:

"You're saying the Don has a way of getting up the plate? Without Shinra knowledge?"

Johnny blinked, clearly surprised by the fire in Zack's question. "Yeah," he stammered. "See, I was helping them with a shipment that went out today. Got paid and came to the bar to see Tifa and celebrate, you know what I'm saying, bro?"

Zack did know what he was saying (and so did Tifa, judging by the subtle grimace that flashed across her face), but he did not care. The clamor in his chest was starting to hasten, like frenzied drumbeats. "Can you show us?" he asked.

Quickly, Tifa interjected. "No, he can't." There was a slight strain to her voice, a rare bit of irritation, and her next words explained exactly why. "Apparently, the Don only trusts the methods to his most important henchmen."

Of course, it was never going to be that easy. Zack swallowed the groan of frustration. He almost thought his heart would burst straight from his chest right there, but then, he could feel Aerith's fingers curling into the fabric of the back of his shirt. The touch washed over him like the gentle tide. Breathe, it said. I'm here, it said. I love you, it said. He took another second to compose himself before finding his voice again.

"Where can we talk to Don Corneo?"

Immediately, Johnny went back to waving his hands in the air again. "Oh no, bro. You don't want to do that. The Don is a dangerous guy. Even the Shinra don't mess with him!"

For some reason, Zack found himself nearly cackling aloud at that warning. It did not matter what danger awaited or what Shinra wanted or feared. Nothing mattered, except for Cloud. A single glance exchanged with both of the young women confirmed what they all were thinking – that there was only one way to go from here.

Tifa nodded. "Alright, well, thanks for your help, Johnny. We'll take it from here."

"What? No, Tifa. It's dangerous!"

"Oh, we know," chimed Aerith, and with her characteristic smile, she brushed past Johnny and tucked her arm into Tifa's. "Don't you worry. We'll be sure to take good care of your girl, bro."

Said girl covered her mouth to hide her laughter.

But Johnny was not convinced. He darted back in front of them, planting his feet. "No, wait!" he insisted. An odd, curious flush was starting to spread over his face. "You don't understand. It really isn't a good place for – uh – girls to go."

Zack stepped forward. "I'll be sure to stay with them," he said.

"No, no, bro," pleaded the redhead. "They aren't going to let you in. They don't let any guys in on audition nights."

Aerith quirked her head. "Audition?"

That weird blush intensified, and this time, it was almost strong enough to match Johnny's hair. "Yeah, uh, well, you see, sometimes, the Don, what he'll do is, it's kind a weird, but –"

Tifa repeated, "Please, Johnny. The short version."

"Right. Well, uh, he picks women," Johnny explained. His embarrassment was painfully evident now, in the slump of his shoulders, in the dip of his neck. "He gets three women and picks one of them to spend the night with, gives the others to his men."

Silence followed. In the moment, Zack could remember thinking several things. The first was how pathetic a man had to be to stoop to such a level, the second was how dangerous he likely was given that he could get away with sex trafficking in almost plain sight. But it was the third that was the problem, because it once again derailed the momentum they had just started to build.

"Fuck," Zack breathed, running a hand through his hair. "I can't let you two go in there."

As expected, Aerith and Tifa both instantaneously protested.

"We'll be fine."

"You've seen how much ass we can kick."

"Babe, seriously, we have to do this."

"We don't have a choice."

They were right, especially on the last account. They had been waiting for five days for something. That was five days of nightmares and grief, five days of leaving Cloud in a mako tank, on an exam table, to a life that was worse than death. They had no other leads, no other avenues, no other options. This was their only chance, and they had to take it.

But because Zack was a country gentleman who was raised by a strong mother, because he was a young man who had lost too many friends too recently, he just could not bring himself to let this go. "There has to be another way," he said, starting to pace on the dirt. "Maybe there's a back door?"

Johnny shook his head. "No, bro. The Don's mansion is the most secure place in the slums. Unless you're wearing a dress, there is no way you're getting in there."

And that was it. Buried in those unwitting words was the third event.

Because as soon as the redhead closed his mouth, the two girls looked at each other, and it was like a firework went off with the energy that sparked between them.

"Thanks for the suggestion, Johnny," said Tifa.

"Looks like we'll have to go dress shopping," Aerith added.

Zack paused. It was slowly clicking in now. "What? You aren't – you can't be –"

Too late, though, and he knew it. The stage was set, the lines were drawn, and the audience was ready. All that was left was for the players to don their costumes. As if on cue, Aerith's eyes were beginning to sparkle. Tifa let out another tiny laugh. Johnny stood there, completely clueless. And as for Zack – well, while he recognized that he did technically ask for it, he could not help but be left struck by the strange and funny methods that fate used to do its dirty work.

"Well?" asked Aerith. She was peering up at him, with a tiny, knowing smile. "Are you ready?"

There was no choice. But Zack honestly took a moment to think about it. How did all the unexpected twists and turns of his life lead him to this predicament? Over the past few years, he had tried so many things for the sake of saving the people he cared about. He had refused orders. He had killed. He had fought monsters. He had defected from the army. He had joined a terrorist organization. By comparison, putting on a dress and sneaking into a sex dungeon seemed absolutely ridiculous. But there was always a first time for everything, and it was a small price to pay, for the tiny spark of hope they now had.

For Cloud.

Still, Zack could not help but sigh.

"Alright. Fine. Let's do this."

Unfortunately for Zack, finding a dress that actually fit him turned out to be the easiest part of the evening. There had been painful hand massages, annoying Coliseum fights, an encounter with a literal house from hell, a roundabout chase around town to locate the dressmaker and provide him with sufficient inspiration, and some very awkward conversations regarding body movements, seduction techniques, underwear, make-up, and perfume with the owner of the Honeybee Inn. But finally, after several hours – and several stifled laughs – Zack emerged from the dressing room of the clothing shop, feeling a little bit giddy, fearful, and nauseated, all at once.

"You look perfect!" Aerith declared, in between breathless laughter.

Tifa, too, began smiling. She walked a slow circle around him, her eyes scanning every detail: the white heeled boots, the shimmery light purple fabric covering his legs and shoulders, the matching belt cinching the waist, and the copious amounts of eyeliner and blush. "Honestly, Zack," she said, "You really don't look half bad. I'd be willing to put money on Corneo picking you tonight."

They were joking. A look in the mirror – and at Johnny's grimacing face (he stuck around, followed them throughout their escapades in Wall Market, perhaps out of curiosity over this very moment) – made it clear that this was a terrible plan. Though the girls and the artists at the Inn had tried their absolute best with the make-up and his unruly hair, though the dress was indeed very flattering, though Zack did look almost scarily pretty, his height and his build and his voice and his glowing eyes easily gave him away as a SOLDIER. No amount of time, energy, or magic was going to change that fact. And perhaps more importantly, he looked nothing like the typical girl that ended up in Corneo's mansion, certainly not one that the Don would end up selecting to spend the night with. He'd be lucky to even make it through the front door.

As it turns out, however, Zack was lucky. Just in more ways than one.

With the benefit of hindsight, the walk to the mansion would have been a good time for an Angeal-esque lecture, reminding Zack to not let his big mouth to land him in trouble. But what happened was an honest accident. Because absolutely no one, not even the silver-haired guy at door who still let them in (despite the skeptical look he threw their way) expected the Don to pick Zack. In fact, the girls spent the trek earnestly discussing tactics on how to best extract the information they wanted, once they managed to get alone with the man. Meanwhile, Zack was trying to figure out what combat moves he could actually pull off in these heels. He was determined to stay focus on his part of the plan – taking out the goons and rescuing whichever girl was in the room with Corneo as quickly as possible – and was decidedly ignoring the ogling that was being done as the three of them were lined up in front of the infamous Don like lambs for the slaughter.

"Such wonderful flavors to choose from," Corneo sang, his fingers waggling in the air. "This is going to be a very difficult decision, indeed."

There was at least a minute or two of relative silence, save for Corneo's panting and humming as he examined his options. Zack kept his eyes locked straight ahead, tried to ignore the urge to pick the man up by his neck and slam him into the nearest wall when he sniffed Aerith's leg, tried to keep his own panic as stilted as possible when he felt those pudgy hands run up and down his own arms. Gaia, fuck, please don't say anything, please don't say anything, please, please, please, please –

"Aha!" the Don suddenly exclaimed.

Shit.

"I know exactly who to pick for today's bride."

"Today's?" squeaked Aerith.

The man grinned. "Oh, yes! One has gotta try different cows to find the best tasting milk, you know."

Somehow, that had been it. Not the fact that Zack could not blink without accidently poking his eye with a false lash. Not the fact that this man was breathing too close to his girlfriend. Not the fact that the heels were definitely pinching his toes too tight. It was this silly farming metaphor. Disgusting, but relatively harmless compared to some of the other things they had heard tonight, and so similar to some of the dirty comments the guys back home would have once said. But perhaps that had been the problem. Because suddenly, Zack felt like he had been possessed by his mother's temper, and the words jumped out of him, without any warning.

"Like a pig would know how to milk a cow."

Everything and everyone froze. Aerith and Tifa's mouths were hanging open in shock, and all eyes in the room turned toward Zack. In the ensuing silence, and with slow, foreboding steps that creaked the hardwood floor, Don Corneo stepped in front of him, a sneer curling underneath his mustache.

"Did you say something?" he asked. And then, even more menacingly, "Does daddy need to teach you some manners?"

Once again, the one word left in Zack's mind was:

Shit!

And that was it – the story of how Zack ended up in an itchy, sequined dress, and on the bed of a notorious sex trafficker. His mind was reeling from the sheer whiplash of his circumstances. He had no idea what he was doing, no idea what the new plan was now that he was locked in here. All he knew was that he needed to both keep himself from vomiting in disgust and to somehow convince the Don to give him the information they came here for.

"Don't worry, sugar. Daddy's here, and he can make everything better."

It was hard not to cringe, hard not to break the guy's nose, even harder to wrack his brain and remember what Tifa and Aerith were discussing on their way to the mansion. He had been far too busy trying to figure how to walk in the damned boots. But after a second (during which he had to dodge a wayward grope), the fragments began to slip through the fog: Play coy. Play innocent. Share minor details about you and he'll share details about himself to impress you.

Alright, if that had been the plan, Zack could do that. Probably.

"Ah, Mr. Corneo," he said, straining his voice an octave higher than it should be. "Maybe we could get to know each other first?"

The man raised his brow. That lecherous grin, however, did not dissipate in the slightest. "Now you're acting shy? Oh, you certainly know how to rev a man's engines, don't you?"

Don't roll your eyes. "Yeah, that's funny. A really good friend of mine above plate says that about me, too."

"Is she as pretty as you?"

Zack spared a moment, merely because it was a hilarious thought. Cloud in a dress. He would probably rock it way better than Zack could, given the baby blue eyes and the small frame. Maybe Seph would be into that kind of thing. That'd be a funny sight, and kind of hot.

Focus!

He brought a hand to his face and laughed behind it lightly, in an attempt to mimic how Tifa often charmed her patrons at the bar. "Even prettier, I think. But I haven't seen her in so long. Was going to go up there a few days ago, but the trains stopped running."

For extra effect, Zack fluttered the ridiculous lashes. There. He played his card. Now it was time to see if the Don would take it.

Another slow smile began to spread over Corneo's face. He leaned closer to Zack, the heat of his breath ghosting over his skin. "Oh, you poor thing. We can't have that can we?"

"No…"

"Don't you worry. Daddy knows exactly how to take care of that problem for you."

Score! "Really? How so?"

But once again, it just could not be that easy. Because then, Corneo sneered, "You gotta help Daddy with his problem first," and grabbed Zack's hand, placing it over his pants, and right where Zack did not want it.

It was like a rubber band snapping. In one moment, Zack heard the alarm bells, and in the next, he thought, fuck the plan. With all the strength that his time at SOLDIER had built within him, Zack closed his fist, and then, there was nothing to do but relish Corneo's howls of pain. He waited a few extra merciless seconds before releasing his grip, and immediately, the Don scrambled backwards on the bed, clutching at his groin.

"Oops," Zack said as coyly as possible.

Corneo's eyes were bulging out of his skull. "You fucking bitch!" he screamed. "Someone get in here and teach this cunt some manners!"

The doors to the bedroom opened on cue, but the Don's henchmen were not the ones who crossed the threshold. Instead, Tifa and Aerith, both dressed in their normal clothes and carrying a sack and the Buster Sword, walked into the room.

"Sorry, it seemed like your boys needed to learn some manners of their own," Tifa announced.

Aerith smirked. "You doing alright there, babe?" she asked.

At last, Zack gave into the urge and rolled his eyes. He got up off the bed, snatched the sack of what he presumed was his clothes out of his laughing girlfriend's hands, and replied, "Oh, just fucking peachy."

The girls stepped forward while he quickly changed. With the plan now gone completely awry, neither of them bothered playing innocent. Tifa's fists were menacingly opening and closing, and Aerith's staff sparkled with teasing magic.

"Well, now," said Aerith, humming with false delight. "Seems you have some talking to do, Mr. Don."

Corneo was still wincing, still had his hands covering his pants. But he protested anyway: "I have no idea what you are talking about!"

"That's not what we heard. We heard you know of a way to get above plate without Shinra knowledge."

"Oh no, no one knows how to do that!"

Tifa stepped forward, placing a foot on the bed. "But you do, don't you?" she stated, grinding her boot into the comforter. The motion purposefully left a dirt stain, just for good measure. "See, I would tell us sooner rather than later, or some bruised balls are going to be the least of your problems."

A whimper, sniveling and pathetic. Corneo huddled his knees closer to his chest, pressed his back against the headboard. "Alright, alright!" he said. And then, probably because he couldn't help himself, leered, "I could never say no to a sexy girl."

Zack groaned. If he hadn't been busy zipping up his pants and holstering his sword, he would have socked the guy. But it seemed that Aerith had that covered. She tilted down her staff and let out a tiny lightning blast from the tip, jolting the Don right on his toes. Predictably, the man yelped and almost tumbled off the bed.

"Well?" she said, perfectly sweet.

Corneo looked at her, with something that looked right between frightened and lovestruck. However, he did appear to have learned his lesson, because instead of making another lewd comment, he simply provided exactly what they had been looking for. "Right, uh, well, you see that back wall behind Wall Market? Right over there is the upper plate of Sector Seven. My men stash some grappling guns in the construction to climb up when required."

It was odd, how that rote exchange of information made Zack feel. There was no sudden excitement, no flash, no spark. There had been too many false starts over the course of the entire week that the relief of finally getting what they needed tasted just shy of off, even bitter. But it was there, at least, and at last. A path forward, a way upward. To Cloud. To setting things right.

There was no more time to waste.

"Let's mosey," Zack said, heading toward the door.

"Wait!"

Alright. He was really going to punch this guy now. Zack turned around, Tifa and Aerith doing the same on either side of him. All three were looking curiously at the Don, who was kneeling upright on the bed, that shit-eating grin back on his face.

"What do you want?" Zack asked.

Corneo was close to laughing, his shoulders shaking with his breaths. "Oh, it's not about what I want. It's something that you might want."

"Then, spit it out."

The man lifted his hands in mock surrender. "Oh, I'm just saying that you should avoid the Sector Seven plate for the time being. You should probably avoid Sector Seven in general."

Aerith twirled her staff in warning. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Corneo kept smiling. "Let's just say that Shinra got tired of spending the last few days searching the slums for Avalanche and has decided to take a more…crushing route."

A second passed, before the statement sunk in. When it did, Tifa let out a gasp.

"No, not the Plate – they wouldn't –"

But she could not get the words out, and they did not have another moment to try and articulate the horror of the truth.

Because then, Corneo released his laugh, full-bodied and cruel, and flipped the switch beside his headboard to drop the three of them straight through the trap door in the middle of his bedroom floor.