So I thought KH3 was…alright. Gameplay was awesome, story/characters were way better than I expected—until the last 3-4ish hours. Things kinda went off the rail there, in a way that was both spectacular, fascinating, and horrible—though in a love/hate sort of way. Maybe next chapter I'll add a spoilerly addendum on how I think it could've gone better.
Chapter XIII: The Reichstag Fire
And the walls kept tumbling down,
in the city that we love;
great clouds roll over the hills,
bringing darkness from above—
but if you close your eyes,
does it almost feel like nothing's changed at all?
~Pompeii by Bastille
Zack opened his eyes, never realizing he had closed them, and wondering who had turned on—no, who had put up—so many lights in the Seventh Heaven? And why had they made such a mess doing it? What was—oh, and why did his head hurt so much? And why was he halfway under a table? The ale wasn't that strong, right—
But then Zack realized the light was actually the sun, shining murkily through floating debris, which in turn obscured the fact that the front half of the Seventh Heaven was missing, now all warped and piled stones with half-shorn boards sticking out at odd angles.
He blinked again, wiping at the ache coming from his right temple. His fingers returned blood.
Groaning and trying to unscramble his vision, the eternal ringing in Zack's ear was punctuated with another distant rocking—like a single, deep bass note, with something else mixed in.
Nearly cutting himself on the shards of the wooden table, Zack raised himself to stare with a daze around the tavern. Smoke was rising from a fire that had already caught on the far side of the bar, though it could be hardly recognized as such, ripped apart as it was.
There were forms he didn't recognize, shapes, like scattered pieces, laying around it. The ceiling above seemed almost to sag, as it eventually just vanished into ragged remains near the front of the eatery—like a piece of cloth lazily torn in half.
The ringing was less now, and Zack was still wiping blood from his forehead. Beneath him, whatever he had been leaning on cracked and collapsed, sending him tumbling down into a ragged pile of wood and fabric. It was then that the ringing was overtaken totally by another note, multiple notes, all crazed and irregular—
Screams, he realized. They were screams.
Then and there the shock wore off and suddenly Zack was fully in the moment. Leaking blood, smoking debris, dust-filled air that choked his lungs and made him hack, and those screams that shifted in and out with closer moans—Ven!
Zack stumbled forward, shoving aside the remains of their table, ignoring how they cut his hands in the process. Groaning underneath it was Ven, hair singed and face smudged.
Zack stooped down and took him by the shoulders, checked his pulse, and gently shook him.
"Ven, Ven, hey!"
"W-what…what—" Ven mumbled, eyes opening slightly.
"I don't—" Zack hacked, wiping again at his head, "I don't know, some kind of attack or—"
"Deepground…" Ven murmured, as Zack came to the exact same conclusion. Terrorists. This was an attack.
The screaming was becoming ever more acute, and the fumes ever more noxious. Seeing Ven able to sit up unwounded, Zack, unable now to bring himself to look at the bar, tasked him, "We gotta get whoever's left out of here."
Ven, still stunned, nodded, dragging himself to his feet. Somewhere close by, another explosion rocked the building, causing more dust and debris to fall from the ceiling. Zack, acting on instinct, turned and stumbled through what used to the be the entrance to the Seventh Heaven.
The attack was still happening, and whoever was doing this was still here and needed to be stopped.
And he was going to stop them.
But as he stumbled out into the open, shielding himself from the swell of the fires, Zack found himself staring at an image of total devastation. The plaza was burning—that is, what was left of it.
Instead of apartments, piles of rubble lay collapsed like avalanches. Smoke filled the air, as people ran screaming through it, dodging falling debris and further ruin. Bodies lay openly in the plaza, fallen over the flower and half-hanging from the bushes. The fountain hissed sheets of water in a futile spray, as it lay half-crumbled.
It took Zack a moment to breathe it in—the burning air, the acrid smell, the smoke that turned the sun's rays into a blinding diffusion, making the entire plaza to appear trapped in a hazy mist, lit by the shimmering torches of what had only just been beautiful greenery.
But it was only for a moment. Then Zack leapt into action.
The body closest to him—collapsed over the blackened stone wall between buildings, was burned and scarred beyond recognition. Zack swallowed over a forming knot as he gently lowered them to the ground and dashed a few yards further down the plaza, crouched as low below the smoke as he could, where one of the explosion had brought down the front of an apartment house; melted like the wax of a candle.
Following half-glimpsed sights and half-heard sounds, Zack pushed stones aside, hacking through the burning air, and pulled out a young woman, legs broken and twisted beneath, but breathing—mumbling, even. Light-brown hair was matted to her forehead, and her clothes were in tatters. Lifting her light frame into his arms, Zack tried to pierce the smoke with his gaze, looking for the safest place—but he didn't recognize even his own home. Everything was so disfigured—
Suddenly another explosion ripped through another nearby complex, bursting it from the inside out. Zack stumbled back, nearly dropping the moaning woman, able only just to turn instead to shield her. The raging fires had begun to spread, the smoke was deepening, and the screaming cries kept shafting through the fog. Shadowy forms moved through it, as Zack hung back, shifting along the edges of the plaza.
Nearly tripping over another lifeless body, he felt an uncontrollable panic finally begin to hit him. What the hell was this? What was going on?!
He had to breathe. Breathe! Breathe! But breathing became only long, drawn-out coughing fits, as his lungs filled with smoke. Looking up, Zack found himself staring back at the half-scooped out space where the Seventh Heaven had been.
But, he noticed, it was no longer on fire. Hopefully Ven's work. It would have to do.
Stumbling up the twisted metal and wooden beams that lay strewn where stairs had once been, Zack found a somewhat clear bench to lay the young woman down. Setting her legs as best he could and wiping the pooling blood from the side of his face, he turned and tripped, falling to his hands and knees. He had to get as many as he could—the PKF would be here, soon; the healers. He had to get a perimeter set and a base established, he had to—
"Oh, dar-ling, compassion is such a precious zing to squander—" a sultry voice crooned, "and zis city has so little of it to spare."
A swift kick to the gut sent Zack tumbling over his side. Groaning and coughing, he looked up to see a tall woman, fully-armored and draped in a red fur coat. Her tangled red hair fell back from a peak to several long spikes, as deep-red eyes looked disdainfully down a sharp nose at him.
"Speaking of precious zings to squander…such a shame." She frowned, "Rosso ze Crimson will grant you a quick death."
As she raised a double bladed sword, held by a hilt in its middle, Zack scrambled to pull the Tsurugi from underneath him, his brain absently wondered if he'd just be remembered as a statistic—one among dozens, if not hundreds, killed in this attack.
But as the blade came down, a flashing form leaped from the remains of the Seventh Heaven and battered the Tsviet's long blade away. Suddenly, between he and the woman, this Rosso, stood Ven, stance low and his Keyblade swung behind him in the reverse hold that he had always preferred, much to Zack's confusion.
"Miss, please put that down." Ven said, with a mix of firmness and mischievousness that only he could achieve.
"Oh, but you are only a boy." Rosso chided, an amused smile tugging at her lips, "I am more zan enough for ze both of you."
Suddenly, through the fog and dust and heat, four PKF soldiers circled around, dressed smartly in their armor and wielding their standard-issue blades. Zack could sense their fear and doubt, though—they must've only been a nearby patrol.
"How about now?" Zack replied, feeling his blood boil as it fully clicked that this woman was one of them.
Rosso, without a care in the world, carelessly examined those surrounding her, "I'm quite experienced."
With that, she plunged her blade into the neatly-laid stones beneath her and, from that center, waves of fire erupted concentrically, breaking upward through the brick.
In a second's reaction, Ven created a reflect spell that protected him, Zack and two soldiers within its span, but the other two were immediately consumed with flames from their feet-up and collapsed in writhing piles of blackened flesh and burning screams.
Zack's blood ran simultaneously cold and hot and Ven's spell fluttered under the pressure—this was no ordinary magic she was using. There was something crazier going on.
As Ven's spell faded, both moved to charge forward, blades flashing—but as Rosso deflected their first strikes, two sudden thuds from behind drew Zack's attention back. Spinning away from her with her second deflect, Zack watched as the bodies of the two remaining PKF soldiers were thrown to the side like ragdolls, beaten away as if by a bat.
The sickening crunch of their bones and their final muted screams burned Zack's memory just as, through the fog, a towering monster of a man emerged, wielding an enormous weapon. Zack almost wanted to call it a "gun", but it didn't resemble any sort of handheld available in the Garden.
No, this was more like a handheld cannon, which this giant held and swung around like a mace in his gigantic hands.
At least nine feet tall, this new terrorist had long silver hair, matted around his square face. Nearly-glowing yellow eyes stared fiercely at them from above a broad, wild smile. A silver jumpsuit wrapped around muscles bigger than Zack's head, and arms thicker than his torso. Behind him, a tattered silver cape floated.
"Excellent timing, Azul." Rosso praised, as Zack turned back to back with Ven to face these respective opponents.
"Our time, when it has come, is always an excellent time, Crimson." Azul responded with a rumble, in a tone that bordered on the exultant.
"Alright, look," Zack tried to smirk, "If you both just surrender now, me and my buddy here will try and make sure you get the lock-up and -not- execution."
"Ah, a comedian." Azul murmured, as he angled the thick barrel of his cannon.
"Nah, if I was—" Zack shrugged, tightening his fingers around the Tsurugi's handle, "-I'd have come up with something way more clever about your freakish size by now."
"Zack, stop antagonizing them—" Ven anxiously whispered.
"Your friend's advice is wise, I suggest you take it." Zack glanced over his shoulder to see three (three!) more figures appear to melt out of the burning, roaring, opaque chaos, from which he could still hear the screams.
The speaker continued, "For we have suffered our fair share of antagonism."
The first, the one who spoke, wore nothing but the simple white gi bottoms of a martial artist, revealing a well-defined torso. Two long pistol-blades—not unlike the gunblades that Squall and Rinoa wielded—were strapped across his back. His hair was completely white, and flew out from his head, almost like the unfolded wings of a peacock. A single, sharp blue eye stared at Zack and Ven, piercing through the dust and debris like a laser.
Beside him, nearly hanging upon his arm, marched a man wrapped all in black—indeed, really wrapped, as even his arms appeared to be twisted into his garments—almost restrained. Disheveled black hair struck out from all about, around a metal mask that seemed attached over his whole head, allowing only his feline-like eyes to stare out. Behind him, a pair of metal wings—ugly and sharp—stretched out, seeming to twist and move and jab on their own.
Lastly, to the white-haired man's left, stood a man dressed, it seemed, all in rags draped over a dangerously thin body—but he was covered over by a long, red coat with black armor attached to the shoulders. He held a single longsword and his untrimmed auburn hair fell all about his face, obscuring most of his appearance.
Zack counted again. Five of them. Two of him. Not great odds, but he'd be damned if he gave up now.
He just wished he had gone back to see Aerith first, before coming to meet this moment.
"It is not as though wisdom shall save you." the white-haired man added, rejecting any parlay, "The time for the Garden's wisdom has long passed. Azul?"
Zack, readying his blade, turned back to the giant, who was raising his large cannon. Zack twisted his stance, about to leap forward, when suddenly, glowing orange chains flew from nowhere, wrapping themselves around the cannon's barrel and pulling it back with a jerk.
With that, its first sudden blast flew up and high, exploding into one of the nearby buildings and causing rubble to rain from the air. Following the shimmering, magical chains back, Zack saw another figure emerge, to Ven's cheers: his father, Eraqus, tugging back on the energized manacles that emerged from the tip of his Keyblade.
Simultaneously, Ven's sister Aqua appeared from nowhere, her dark-blue Keyblade crossing the throat of Rosso the Crimson, across from Ven. The whole scene froze then, for a moment. The nine of them, in a sort of miniature standoff, as the plaza burned and collapsed around them.
And Zack suddenly felt a lot better about their odds.
"I, Eraqus, Master of Keyblade, demand you identify and explain yourselves, creatures of darkness!" Ven's father insisted, as he kept the giant Azul controlled like a dog on a leash.
"I wish to do the same." The white-haired man, eye shifting between Rosso at sword-point and Azul under duress, spoke slowly, "These two are Rosso the Crimson and Azul the Cerulean. To my right: Nero the Sable; to my left, our new brother, Genesis Rhapsodos,"
Finally bringing his hand to rest upon his own chest, he continued, "And I am Weiss the Immaculate. Together," he gestured broadly, "we Tsviets are Deepground, here to bring justice and healing to the rot that corrupts Radiant Garden."
"By wanton death and destruction? An odd sort of healing." Aqua replied, her solemn face not betraying even a hint of emotion.
"Consider it surgery, then." Weiss responded, unfazed, "The Garden has done nothing else than bring its own evil back on its own head."
"You may veil your darkness in trappings of light," Eraqus boomed, letting his shimmering shackles slack, "But you are shadowed monsters, all the same!"
With that, willing to hear no more, Eraqus reared back with his Keyblade, and tore the enormous cannon from the grasp of Azul, sending it flying through the air at Weiss and his two fellows.
All at once, everyone began to move.
Rosso flipped her double-sword up, knocking back Aqua's weapon and turning to face her directly. Ven immediately leapt forward, swinging downward as Aqua gracefully spun away from Rosso's first twisting jab. Eraqus, moving faster than Zack could follow, charged toward the group of three, calling beams of light that seemed to erupt from the air itself to light upon Genesis, while aiming his first swing toward Weiss—seemingly the leader.
Before any blows could land, though, the twisting metal arms of Nero came down with jabbing strikes at Eraqus, forcing him to twist and turn to dodge, slowing his advance. Meanwhile, Weiss slowly drew his twin blades from his back and stepped calmly out of the way of Azul's careening weapon.
Meanwhile, Zack leapt into action himself, swinging down at the now weaponless Azul. But weaponless, Zack learned, did not mean defenseless: the giant of a man caught Zack's blade in one hand—and though blood leaked through his fist, he did not lose his fingers.
Zack's eyes widened—the Tsurugi could cut through metal! How could this guy's hand stop it? Azul toothy smile widened, his eyes bright, as he held Zack still by his sword and reached for him with his enormous other hand. Moving quickly, Zack used that control against him—leveraging his weight to jump against Azul's tightened fist and twist his blade out, severing the tip of a finger as he did.
With a twisted landing, as Azul roared and pulled back, Zack swung low at his trunk-like legs—but succeeded only in the tip of the Tsurugi embedding itself slightly in his calf. With a shake of the leg, Azul sent Zack tumbling along the ground, knocked free from his blade.
Behind Zack, the chanted explosions of magic and the clanging of Keyblade and sword told him they were in trouble enough—just as Azul came to tower over him again.
Tifa snapped awake with a muffled cry, wiping at the drops of water that fell on her cheeks and mixed with blood. In her wakening confusion, she wondered first how she had ended up on the floor and, second, whether the pipes had burst again and started leaking through the ceiling.
But then she smelled the burning wood and heard the crackling fires, punctuated by some voice calling out Blizzard spells. After each command, the whistling sizzle of released steam hissed around the Seventh Heaven.
Lifting herself, Tifa looked around in a daze. Stools and booths were overturned or half-missing, collapsed in smoldering scrap piles. Food and drink was everywhere and, she could swear, it seemed a bit lighter than it should've; but a whole hell've of a lot of smoke made that difficult to discern. Either way, this mess—someone was gonna have to pay for this mess-
Blinking, she leaned back up against the bar, at the point where it turned the corner away from the main entrance and wrapped behind several booths. What had happened? Why was she on the floor?
She had been late. Fabul had covered for her. She had been gathering the orders together and refilling a few drinks when she…when Zack suddenly waltzed down to sit somewhere. Her heart had skipped a beat, both excited and fearful…how was she going to explain what had happened? That Vincent was dying upstairs?
She had…she had finished filling the last beer and decided to make for Zack, as he'd know what to do—but then she saw who was sitting with him: one of those Keybladers. What was she supposed to do, now? Sure, they'd saved them in the castle, but—the way the woman with them had looked at Cloud—
"Blizzara!" came another spell, as a blast of ice magic flew through the air above her, crashing into the several steps of wood that had once been the whiskey display. The fire burning there, which Tifa only just noticed, quickly succumbed to the ice. Following the trajectory, she just caught sight of an upswing of short spikes of blonde hair, unalike to Cloud's long spikes, dashing down to the other end of the bar. The Keyblader?
Quite unsure of why, Tifa scampered behind the bar, hiding below what was—what was left of it? Why was she hiding from him? What was going on?
Tifa looked down at her arm, which for the first time she noticed had a gash from hand to elbow, down the top of it—bleeding. What the hell?
It was then that the pain kicked in, burning and raging up her arm, and it took biting her other hand—itself scraped and darkened with dirt—to not yelp. What was it that Master Zangan had always said? Pain is weakness leaving the body? Alright, it was alright—she'd had worse.
Taking a breath, with just a slight shake, Tifa looked up to find something behind the bar to wrap herself up in—a cloth or rag or something—but instead had to immediately suppress another cry, as her eyes fell upon Fabul's mangled body, crushed under part of the bar, with a single dagger-like splinter of it driven through his light green eye.
Tifa stared in shock, blood and dirt and bar forgotten. What the hell had happened?
Suddenly, distant screaming came to reach her ears, and maybe some kind of metallic crash.
And then Tifa's mind connected it all—burning, fire, blood, death: the terrorists.
No, no, no.
No, no, no, no, no.
Her breathing quickened, and Tifa tried to hold it in pace, but the sound and shaking of a nearby explosion—definitely out in the plaza—stole it from her and she whimpered, much to Zangan's imagined disappointment.
Cloud. She had to get back to Cloud and Vincent. She had to get them.
Lacking any kind of useful cloth, Tifa gently dabbed her wound with the edges of her jacket. Leaning on her good arm, she crawled forward under the bar toward the back stairs, freezing only as she passed Fabul, taking a moment to close his eye. She couldn't bear to rip out the wound to the other.
Through gritted teeth, she made it to the stairwell and, with a quick look over the tavern to see where Ventus had gone—but she only gained more sorrow and fear for her trouble, as she finally saw that the whole front of the building was gone, where bodies lay slumped or impaled.
Taking hold of the bannister with her good arm, she pulled herself back up the stairs to the apartments above. Each step was accompanied by the discovery of a new bruise, a new pain, but Tifa breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth in a steady pattern that matched her movement. Lift up, breathe in. Foot down, breathe out. Keep her heart paced. Keep her mind clear. Just like she'd been taught.
Rounding the last corner into the first hall, Tifa nearly tripped and fell as the bannister ended—but she found the wall to support her first and was able to stand straight, leaning only now against it to steady herself. As another explosion boomed in the distance, she staggered to the first door, hers, and almost punched it down with how hard she pushed through it.
There, on the floor, Cloud lay on his stomach, Vincent before him, almost as if he had rolled from Cloud's arms. Behind them, the edge of the room with her beloved window that looked out over the plaza was simply gone; the bed lay half-slipped through the floor and the wall was a crumbled, mostly-absent, mess.
Stumbling to her knees, gripping her wounded arm close, Tifa checked Vincent's pulse—still alive, though she knew he had no right to be. As soon as she touched Cloud, though, he bolted awake and snatched her wrist.
"Sorry, I—" he started to respond, as his eyes focused on hers.
"What happened-?!" they both simultaneously exclaimed.
"I was—" Cloud's eyes darted down to her arm, and he stumbled past her and began shoveling through the kit he had taken from Aerith, "Something was about to happen. I grabbed Vincent" he turned back with a roll of gauze and tossed to her, before rushing over to Vincent to check for himself, "—then, then—"
"It's like a terrorist attack." Tifa responded, catching the roll. She spoke as she wrapped her arm with her teeth, "Cloud, it's bad—it's like, it's really bad. Hey—maybe you shouldn't—"
Tifa tried to stop him, but Cloud had already carefully moved to the damaged side of the room, looking through the smoke and debris as if it were still a window he could clearly see through.
"Something's happening out there. A fight, maybe." His eyes scanned back and forth, almost robotic, before his voice dropped low and he ran past Tifa to the door, "Aerith. Aerith's out there."
Tifa nodded, following his eyes down to Vincent unmoving form, "Then let's go,"
Cutting off the last of the gauze at her elbow, she snatched up the kit, along with her favorite gloves and wide-brimmed hat from the nearby bureau, hissing as her arm brushed its edge.
Tifa gave the room one final sweep—a picture tacked on the wall got torn down and tossed in the kit, along with that precious small stone from Mt. Nibel.
She frowned, sighing as she slung the kit over her shoulder. She'd never particularly liked this room, but it was home. She'd made it hers.
Agh, what a stupid time to think about stuff like that!
Pushing down the emotions—the shock, the fear, the death (and one final, bittersweet glance at the party dress still hung in the corner), Tifa stooped to reach for Vincent.
"Let's get him out of this death-trap."
Aerith's eyes burned as she stumbled into the plaza, with Squall, Rinoa, and Merlin pulling up behind her. The explosions had drawn them all here—even from as far as they were, Rinoa and Squall's apartment building had still been shaken.
The streets had been filled with people, rushing from the fourth district. They had been kept, it seemed, from retreating higher into the six and seventh districts, which wrapped highest around the Garden, and were now swarming in fear down into the second and third. PKF soldiers had already begun to cordon off the entire district—only by Rinoa's badge had they gotten through.
"What the hell happened here?" Rinoa exclaimed, gunblade in one hand, furiously clicking away at her PHS with the other, while checking on any of the hacking, soot-covered victims who stumbled by them and into freedom.
Aerith tried to see through to the other side—the Seventh Heaven was in there somewhere, she knew. That meant Cloud and Tifa could be there. Or Zack.
She felt sick—they could be in the middle of this!
Screams rent the fog, mixing with the licking flames and the crashing of crumbling buildings to create the most horrific chorus Aerith had ever heard.
"Terrorists." Squall said simply, his sharp eyes trying to pierce the incredible smoke that covered the plaza, pouring from buildings and rubble and just about everything: houses, shops, flowers—Aerith gasped—people!
From the first house to the right, half collapsed on its side (blown apart by some kind of explosion?), a shaking figure, himself half burnt, stumbled down its stone steps and collapsed. Knowing she had to focus, Aerith rolled up her sleeves and ran for him—focusing on him alone. That's what she had to do. That was all she could do.
Suddenly, though, Rinoa was beside her (Aerith only briefly wondered how she had moved that fast), and pushing her low to the ground. Around them, after Rinoa's chant, the golden honeycomb of a reflect shield formed and, no sooner than Rinoa finished speaking, another explosion blew the small shop across from them to smithereens.
When the explosion cleared, the place where the man had fallen was covered in rubble. The entire house was gone. Aerith felt all the breath leave her, as Rinoa pulled her to her feet,
"I'm…sorry. We couldn't reach him." She murmured.
Aerith shook her head, eyes burning now from smoke and tears and fear and all the emotion built up in her. "What do we do, Rinoa?"
"It's this damn smoke," Her face serious and solemn, "We can't see anything. Merlin!" she turned, still able to see the other two through the creeping, debris-filled air. "How much Aero magic could you conjure?
Merlin frowned, "Wind would only feed the fire, I'm afraid. But I shall turn to as much ice magic as I can muster until help arrives!"
Rinoa nodded, turning to Aerith as Merlin rolled up his long, baggy sleeves and turned to casting, "If we can all work together, we can get this under contr—"
Suddenly, a shot from Squall's gunblade whistled past them and deflected against something behind. Rinoa whipped about immediately with her own blade close, blocking a swing, just in time, from a red longsword that had emerged from the fog.
Immediately, Squall was by her side and Rinoa stepped between Aerith and the new attacker. Attached to sword's hilt was a man of indeterminable age, with uneven and disheveled auburn hair that obscured his face. He wore a long red coat, covering a shirt and slacks made, it seemed, almost entirely of rags.
"My friends, the fates are cruel," the man murmured, eyes seemingly cast down, even as he held Rinoa's blade in a clash with his own, "There are no dreams, no honor remains…the arrow has left the bow of the goddess."
"It's bad manners to introduce yourself with riddles." Rinoa challenged.
Squall grunted, swinging forward with his own blade, "Even worse with attempted murder."
With a flick of the wrist, the man spun Rinoa's blade out of the way and fended off Squall's first attack. Following up behind, Rinoa took another careful swing—but with a step to the side and low parry, her strike was disarmed.
"Who are you? What do you want?" Squall challenged, circling in parallel with Rinoa around him. The smoke near them had begun to clear, slightly—Merlin must have been doing his best work.
"I am a shattered soul; a sacrifice of the goddess for the heart of this Garden." The man answered, "What I do today shall be spoken of forever. This day begins the Garden's rebirth."
"Shut up!" Aerith suddenly found herself saying.
"Aerith!" Rinoa shouted to her, "Stay back! Stay with Merlin!"
"There's no excuse for this—no good for this!" Aerith gestured angrily at the smoke-filled air, the unknown bodies, the demolished buildings. "If you did this, well, that makes you nothing else than a monster!"
"You…" the man's head turned slightly up, so that one of his blue eyes glowed in the fog, "But you're different. You don't need rebirth, because you don't belong. You are beloved of the goddess."
Aerith froze, not knowing how to respond. The world was burning around her, people were dying, and here she was suddenly having another insane conversation with a madman.
"Enough," Squall announced, leaping forward with another swing. Rinoa, never apart from him, followed suite, both falling upon the man. With a spinning parry, he knocked Squall's blow back and followed with an uppercut to refuse Rinoa. His eyes remained on Aerith.
"I recognize you—or, should I say, who you come from." Aerith's heartbeat slowed, "I've seen your face in another's. She, like I, was stripped away by the Garden, beneath Shinra."
Aerith blinked. Her mother. The first explosion had banished those horrors from her mind—but, somehow, impossibly, they had also now drawn her back into them.
"Squall!" Rinoa exclaimed.
Nodding, Squall charged forward.
"Do not stay where you do not belong." The man, eye still glowing, murmured—before Squall made contact again with a flurry of blows. Suddenly, Rinoa's face was in Aerith's; her brown eyes staring into her with concern and love.
"Aerith, we'll figure all this out—but you need to be safe. There are—there are people—" she touched her cheek, "People who need your help. Go with Merlin. Let Squall and I handle this knockoff poet."
Aerith blinked, drawn back into the smoking, burning, screaming moment.
"Go!" Rinoa urged, turning to back up Squall without waiting for a response.
Aerith took only another moment to watch, in lingering fear, as her best friend swung back into the fray, absently wondering how was this one terrorist was able to hold off both Rinoa and Squall?
But pushing that aside, Aerith turned after Merlin, who was working his way along the edges of the plaza—expertly casting blizzard spells, putting out fire after fire. Without a word shared, she joined alongside him—though her expertise was in Cure magic, it wasn't as though she could've been raised by a wizard and not have a well-rounded education.
The clash of the fires and blizzard magic causes eruptions of steam so furious that both Merlin and Aerith were soon soaked, causing the smoke and debris to stick to them in a heavy sheen of muck on their faces, clothes, hair—Merlin's beard was a singed, tattered mess and Aerith had long ceased to care about her collapsing bun. Burnt fingers, dark grey arms, soot burning the lungs—but there were more important things now.
But Aerith tried, every chance she got, to see what had happened to Squall, Rinoa and that mysterious terrorist—but she had lost them in the confusion and remaining smoke. Every moment, sounds of fighting, grunting and gasping, summoned magic, fired gunblades, and the clanging of swords, rang through the blanketed plaza behind her.
Meanwhile, as she and Merlin cleared the smoke and fought the fires, they found person after person, crouched hiding under a stoop or in small alleys. Aerith would give them a quick once-over, whatever encouraging word she could muster up to match the smile that broke through what she imagined was a pretty terrible looking face, and sent them out by the way they had cleared. Like her, they were in shock—mumbling to themselves, screaming, crying, or, worst of all, making no reaction whatsoever.
Just as Aerith had finished checking over one like that—a young woman with a blank look; eyes distant and mouth slack—a voice suddenly spoke to her from above.
"That will be quite enough."
Looking up to the caved-in roof above her, Aerith gasped to see a man standing there; perched impossibly on the edge where the roof, now twisted and bent, curled over the edge of the wall. His dark hair ruffled slightly in the shifting winds of the surrounding fires, though it was mostly restricted by the metal headpiece he wore that completely obscured all but his eyes. Two great metal extensions, like some beastly invention of Cid's, stretched out from the back of his dark jumpsuit; great wings of a bird of prey.
Pushing the woman behind her, Aerith wiped the grime from her face and stared up at this new man—undoubtedly another of the terrorists, just like the first.
"It's never enough." She said simply and pointedly, exhaustion evident in her voice, she was sure. Breathless and coughing, there was not much to give.
"Weiss calls it enough." The man responded, eerily muffled by his hidden mouth, "Therefore, it is."
Like a bat, he leapt from the roof to fall upon Aerith.
But suddenly, Cloud was between the two of them, catching the sharp talons with his broad sword. Before anyone could react, Tifa was there, too, grabbing the man—though Aerith felt he barely deserved "man", rather, "monster"—by the leg and, with a grunting spin, pulled him from the air and threw him through the next shop down, collapsing its entryway upon him.
"Cloud! Tifa!" Aerith exclaimed, as she shuffled the unresponsive woman along. "You're okay!"
Cloud only nodded, keeping his eyes on the still-settling rubble. Tifa, however, stumbled forward into Aerith's arms, "Mostly!"
Aerith immediately pulled back, shocked by the number of lacerations and bruises across Tifa's face and legs—her arm, evidenced by the blood seeping through some hasty binding, was pretty terribly wounded—but before she could insist to see it, Tifa spoke:
"Quick, Aerith, Vincent really needs you!"
After the first explosion, Terra had ceased reading. After the second and third, he had rushed to the window to see the smoke rising from somewhere around the fourth or fifth district—right where Ven, Aqua and the Master had gone.
He had to squash the immediate urge to leave—after all, the Master had left strict orders and Lucretia was still here, sitting fearfully in the chair by the other window, seeing everything he was. He had to protect her.
But by the eighth explosion, Terra was sweating and pacing and Lucretia was crying. What the hell was he supposed to do? Clearly, something had gone terribly, terribly wrong—had Shinra felt threatened and done something extreme? Was it terrorism? Maybe he was overreacting—the Master had said he, especially, had to be careful of that—maybe it was only some kind of terrible accident.
"Would Shinra do something like this?" he spoke to Lucretia for the first time since the others had left. He tried to leave any harshness from his tone, but he felt like that had probably failed—the urgency was too great.
Lucretia, after a moment of thought, tearfully shook her head, "No. No, I don't think even they'd be so brazen….it's not even near Shinra."
Terra nodded. She was right. He knew it. He felt it. This was something more. This was what they all feared.
"It's the terrorists, then." He said solemnly and finally.
Lucretia only turned back to window. He was sure she had guessed that long ago.
So what was he supposed to do now? They hadn't planned on this when the Master had told him to keep Lucretia safe. If Deepground was down there, then Aqua and Ven would need his help! But he certainly couldn't leave her here—not when Shinra knows she left with him.
Damnit, there were no good options. Either way, he'd suffer in not knowing. Stay here and let his siblings fight and possibly die, or disobey the Master and go, trying to keep Lucretia safe.
"You—we—should go." Lucretia interrupted his thoughts.
Terra only nodded in response.
That was it, then, he decided. Returning to the window, he looked once more at the plume of smoke that now rose from the district below, forming a somber cloud that wrapped itself around the mid-level of the Bastion. More lives would be saved in his going than his staying. He could protect Lucretia and help his siblings—
The distinctive sound of shattering glass, followed by a quiet thud, interrupted his thoughts. The world seemed to slow as Terra turned to see Lucretia slump over and fall from where she had been sitting, a trickle of blood dripping down a single hole in her pale forehead.
With all the speed he could muster, Terra turned to summon the Keyblade and deflect a shot meant for him just as it cracked through the windowpane—but he caught it just slightly too late, succeeding only in deflecting the mix of magic and metal into his shoulder.
Stumbling back with a groan, Terra crashed through a stack of books and overturned an armchair in his collapse. As the great oaken door began to creak open, Terra re-summoned the Keyblade to his good arm and, calling upon his best magical ability, cast out a Blizzara spell that flew true—freezing the frame of the door in place.
A light cure spell numbed the pain in his shoulder, just in time to roll out of the way from another shot that flew from a shadow outside the already cracked window, over the unmoving body of Lucretia.
Taking another breath, Terra twisted the Keyblade and called out again for Blizzara, formed at the tip of the Keyblade into great, icy spikes, which he sent flying back through the window, totally shattering the whole pane into wicked shards.
A scream of pain from outside commended his aim, and Terra—his utterly determined will set—pulled himself to his feet and, with a blast of weak Aero magic from the Keyblade, shattered his closest window, just before he broke through it with his own body. Rolling to a stop outside, Terra—beginning to feel the dizziness of using so many spells so rapidly—readied the Keyblade to face whatever shadowy assassin stood across from him—
but no one was there; not any longer. Just the wind-driven grass around, a dead body behind him, and the smoking city below him.
The smoke made it difficult, but Aqua followed the shadows and made her way nonetheless. This Rosso was faster than she had expected, dashing in and out around her, often with only a shadow of red to mark her passing—but with Ven at her side, they managed.
Rosso swept low with her leg, and Aqua jumped, while Ven press at the spinning deflections of her blade. Coming down with another swing, Rosso turned just in time to block upward at Aqua, as she kicked back with a strike that landed square in Ven's chest, sending him tumbling back.
Smirking, she turned back to Aqua, who had already spun from their first clash into another strike to the other side, followed up by an explosive Luxa spell that lit her Keyblade in a brief eruption of light, refracting through the smoke like lightning through the clouds.
Ven came flying back then, as Rosso was forced from the small explosion, and they both together pressed their advantage again; a team not needing words—though Ven provided them anyway.
"A double-bladed Keyblade would be pretty helpful, y'think?"
Aqua shook her head, able to smile just a shade even in this dismal, burning destruction, "Not now, Ven."
She heard him say something like 'Well, of course you wouldn't need it—', as he pushed ahead, just as she leapt into a flip, head-over heels and springing off her hand, to land the next blow against the stumbling terrorist.
"If you only understood what zis city is built upon; if you only saw ze boot upon ze neck," Rosso growled as Aqua bore down, "Zen, dar-ling, we might dance instead of fight."
Aqua tilted her head, attempting her best attempt at a Terra-flavored taunt, "You mean we aren't already?"
Rosso sneered, turning her block into a jab with the other end of her blade, forcing Aqua to step to the side and parry. Ven closed in again from the left, forcing Rosso into a figure-eight defense, as she spun her elaborate double-blades back and forth to reflect their blows. Aqua felt some strange marvel—this one was unnaturally fast.
Her whispered conjuring of another spell was interrupted by an impressive scissors kick from Rosso, which forced the both of them to beat a retreat, as Rosso moved directly into a spinning strike with her blade down at Aqua, while not forgetting to jab back at Ven as she did.
But in that split moment of space and time, Aqua was able to do what she had done approximately every three minutes: check on her Father, as he currently fought off Weiss' two katanas. From her view, it was like an electric show. Weiss seemed almost to teleport around Eraqus, who never stopped moving himself. Great bursts of Luxaga kept the shifting Weiss at bay, even as Keyblade and katana made constant clash.
It wouldn't be an overstatement, she knew, to describe her Father's work as awe-inspiring. His feet barely moved, if they did at all. For every place where Weiss seemed to vanish and reappear, Eraqus simply shifted his arms and repelled him, occasionally catching him in his signature chains, pulling him back into closer range, where the Keyblade might strike true. Even through the fog of battle, his shadow stood like an immovable landmark, illuminated by the refracting light magic.
Aqua had never seen anyone even match her Father's abilities, and yet, Weiss was still fighting. Who were these people?
Suddenly, from the edge of the plaza, a great pile of rubble seemed to explode and the dark form of Nero, casting an even blacker shadow than the others did amidst the smoke, launched into the air. With a spin, he fell into a dive, directly toward Eraqus, who released a burst of fire and light magic into the air, forcing Nero to dive away from him, rolling to a stop on the ground nearby.
"Ven!" Aqua exclaimed, turning back just as Rosso approached again with another wide strike, "Help Father! I'll handle this one."
Ven, taking only a split second to affirm her choice, sprinted over to stand between Eraqus and Nero. Now it was two to two, Aqua comforted herself—and they were both more likely to make it through, for the trouble.
"Ohhh," Rosso cooed, as she pushed Aqua's blade downward with her own force, launching sparks from the stone ground, "Poor move, darling."
Trapping the Keyblade to the ground by her one blade, caught through the latticework of the tip, Rosso put all her weight on the hilt, using it as an anchor to swing off of with another roundhouse kick aimed to Aqua's head. Still attached to her by the Keyblade, Aqua slid low and underneath, rolling along the mangled and blackened stone, as she dismissed the Keyblade and reformed it, just as Rosso kicked through empty air.
Rosso carried her momentum all the way around her implanted weapon and, coming off the spin, ripped it from the ground and came with a wicked stab from the side, whipping around toward Aqua at an impressive velocity.
But then, suddenly, a woman with long brunette hair and a long blue sweater coat was flying between them, nearly cutting Rosso's arm off with her gunblade—only Rosso wrenching it back painfully saved her limb.
The woman in blue quickly turned to stand beside Aqua, cocking her gunblade and firing off a few shots that forced Rosso to fade back into the fog as she deflected them, now clearly favoring her right arm.
"Sorry, no time for introduction—" the woman suddenly blanched, pulling Aqua down and low, "Shoot! I couldn't stop him."
Following her eyes, Aqua's widened to see the giant form of Azul, parting the smoke as he passed, chuckle as he stooped to retrieve his enormous cannon.
"C'mon, quick—" the woman grabbed Aqua's hand, pulling her, as she yelled back to where she had come, "Squall! Plan B!"
Aqua chanted a quick incantation and, with a flick of the Keyblade, fired off a delayed reflect spell, which dropped as a glowing dome over Azul's crouched form. But as Aqua allowed herself to be dragged over the nearest edge of the plaza and behind a small bulwark of collapsed rubble, she could tell that his standing to full height alone shattered the spell—though it was enough to give him pause.
As they jumped over the rubble and collapsed, backs to the mix of stone and wood protecting them, Aqua found that they weren't alone—a tall man with dark hair was already quickly checking over the woman for wounds, even as she protested, and beside him—
"Hey! It's you!" Zachary Fair exclaimed, eyes wide with a mix of relief and shock. It was then that Aqua allowed herself a second to feel: relief, that Ven, too, had made it through safe—so far.
Any further thought or word, though, was interrupted by the explosive volleys of an opening bombardment. Behind them, the great blasts from Azul's cannon lighted against their makeshift wall, sending bursts of rubble and debris spraying up in the air, to fall upon them in a rain of splinters and pebbles.
The deafening attack just kept coming, as the deep, booming laughter of Azul provided a constant bassline, tangling with the treble of what Aqua guessed to be the amused sadism of Rosso.
"Aqua," Zack yelled over the salvo, as if she were his old friend, "This is Rinoa and Squall! Guys, this is Ven's sister Aqua!"
"A pleasure to meet you—officially!" Rinoa yelled, as the man beside her merely nodded firmly at her. Aqua couldn't help but think that she liked him best.
"We can't stay here forever." Aqua got straight to the point, her mind already returning to Ven and Father, now alone out there.
"You sure?" Zack yelled, "I was kinda thinking about moving in permanently, y'know—"
An eruption of what Aqua guessed used to be brick wall, buried under a door or shingles or somesuch, exploded far too close to home, and everyone shut up, covering their heads as they ducked.
There wasn't time for this.
Aqua, angling her Keyblade like a catapult, aimed about where she thought Azul to be standing and cast off a Thundara spell. From the Keyblade's tip, the spell fired off in an arc, before crashing straight down with a resounding crash and a consequent booming cry.
The momentary lull in Azul's bombardment allowed Aqua to steal a glance beyond their barricade, able only to just see Azul's shadow stumbling closer, still wielding his cannon—but certainly singed. But if she couldn't see the rest of them, that could only mean they were all closing in on—
"Ven…Father…" she murmured, ducking back low as Azul began firing again, even more wildly than before.
Suddenly, Rinoa's hand was on her shoulder, "Go to them. We'll take care of Azul."
"We…will?" Zack intoned.
Aqua paused, finding such compassion in those chocolate eyes, "Are you…sure?"
"Cross my heart and hope to die!" Rinoa responded brightly, "I mean, not literally, of course."
Aqua nodded her thanks and, readying the Keyblade, ran crouched to the end of the bulwark—without stopping, and with only the sound of Azul's attacks to guide her, she immediately launched herself into the air, twisting until she landed on what remained of the nearest rooftop.
Still without pause, she leapt from collapsing roof to collapsing roof, never letting her foot remain still for even a second—for it was all collapsing beneath her even as she circled the rooftops of the plaza's outer edge.
Passing Azul and Rosso, Aqua readied her Keyblade to join her father and brother, as they fended off the sweeping strikes of Nero, who seemed almost carried by a darkness rather than actual flight, and the blade-work of Genesis and Weiss. Allowing herself a rueful smirk, Aqua appreciated the one advantage distance—and the finally clearing smoke—gave her.
Reaching out with her Keyblade, aimed precisely where Genesis and Nero seemed mostly to cluster (as Weiss was far too quick to focus upon), Aqua leapt into the air, twisting, and releasing from the tip of a the Keyblade, multiple beams of magical energy—her own shotlock brew, a mix of Thunder, Fire, Blizzard and Luxa—which spun swirling out into the air, before crashing down in furious salvo—repeatedly, relentlessly—upon the two terrorists. Completing her jump with a perfect landing, Aqua brandished her Keyblade.
As the magic cleared, Genesis was revealed kneeling, clutching at his left arm and gasping. Nero, though undoubtedly damaged by the attack, had kept himself airborne and was now swooping—though imperfectly, Aqua noted triumphantly—toward her. A cartwheel was sufficient to miss his first sharp swipes, while another cast of Blizzara was enough to catch a wing and pull him to the ground—even if only momentarily—for, rather animalistically, he rolled out of his crash and charged her, snarling.
But Ven was suddenly swinging from above and, connecting with one of his outstretched wings, forced Nero stumbling to the ground, his weapons caught beneath him.
"Stay down!" Ven warned, pointing his Keyblade down at Nero's face, hidden behind his metal mask.
Aqua turned quickly to her Father, relieved to see that he had finally seized Weiss in an overwhelming grasp of chains. From every angle, those orange cuffs rose from the ground itself to restrain Weiss by the legs, the ankles, the wrists, the shoulders—Eraqus himself held them tight, his Keyblade steady, straining its power against Weiss' savage strength.
Aqua was about to turn to help with the next most pressing danger—Azul and Rosso—but suddenly a great scream echoed through the plaza and sent goosebumps crawling up Aqua's arms.
It was Genesis—who now lay collapsed on all fours, his body shaking and his mouth wide-open in a still unbroken scream—and it was getting worse, as if he was under some horrifically increasing torture.
Aqua, absolutely opposed to nearly any unknown risk, immediately moved to get him under control—some kind of reflect spell, perhaps—but her steps fell short, nearly to a crawl, as Genesis' back suddenly snapped, and he twisted back unnaturally, his arm thrown freely behind him and his head twisted at an unnatural angle.
Aqua watched in horror as his left shoulder seemed to bulge and crack, ripping his red overcoat, and his neck gave way at nearly a right angle, even as his body remained hunched over the ground—then, a sort of liquid seemed to ooze from him. His eyes bulged and his mouth ripped wide in that still unbroken, hoarse roar. Aqua could only stare. What the hell were these people?
Suddenly, with another snap, Aqua thought that Genesis' entire shoulder blade had ripped through his back.
But then, as it unfurled, Aqua was stupefied, paralyzed, by the enormous black wing that stretched out several yards, unfurling ever longer and broader. Genesis' screams fell silent, and now he only panted, even as it twisted and flitted, almost as if alive on its own.
"What the heck—" She heard Ven start, before he interrupted his own words with a yelp.
Turning, she saw that—in his distraction—Ven had lost care of Nero, who had faded through shadows and darkness, to reappear behind him, with his clawed wings raised above to impale him.
And in her distraction, there was no time to respond—Aqua had been too slow to notice.
But not their Father.
With a grunted cry of "Luxaga", great pillars of light formed around Eraqus and launched into the air. Like spears they flew, leaving glowing trails in their wake, until each collided, one after the other with Nero, blasting him into the air, with the final few tossing him into the rubble of one of the plaza's shops.
Aqua turned with pride and relief back to her father, who nodded firmly at her; the assurance of security that he had given each of them for all these years.
But then Aqua noticed something, and her heart dropped—her Father's chains no longer held Weiss, but only empty air.
Everything was slow motion then, as her Father turned to see the same thing as she—but by then, it was too late. Weiss was between the two of them, and although Aqua couldn't see herself, Weiss' unmoving stance could only mean one thing.
Father's Keyblade, simple and elegant; pragmatic and bright, just like him, clattered to the cobblestone with an empty clang that would resound in Aqua's mind forever after—seared and sealed by the way it then simply vanished.
As Weiss faded out again, Aqua dashed forward, the world quieting around her. She reached Eraqus just in time to catch his head before it broke upon the stony ground.
"F-father!" she cried, cradling him close as she examined the wound—a strike straight-through, that Weiss had then viciously ripped out through his side. It was like nothing Aqua had ever seen. She felt dizzy, and her world faded around the edges. What could she do? What could she do?
"Aqua…" Father murmured, his eyes distant "Aqua…keep fighting…" he coughed, flecks of blood splattering on Aqua's frozen face, "…no distractions…you…you are Master now."
Aqua barely heard him—she was already working the conjugations in her mind. Her Cures could mend bruises and recover strength; her Curas could set bones and seal wounds; her Curagas could stitch together catastrophic damage and pull one back from the brink—maybe if she could, maybe she could just…a little there, precision there—
"Aqua!" Father said suddenly, aware of her attempts with his clear eyes upon her, "I said—no distractions—"
No, no, no—this wasn't happening. It wasn't possible. He couldn't—Father was…he was a force of nature! She could stop it, if she just had more time—if it just wasn't so deep; so large, so vicious—
No, no, she affirmed herself, this wasn't beyond her abilities. She could do this.
And she knew exactly how.
Taking a deep breath, she readied herself and began the proper incantations. The Keyblade was her focus; her lightning rod. It would just be a simple transfer; just the next step up. She'd read enough; she'd practiced—
Weaving her hands through the air above those horrible, bleeding, oozing, dripping, wounds, Aqua summoned all her ability:
"Curaja!"
Everything quieted for a moment, her Father lay unmoved, but then suddenly the shock moved backwards through her hands and her entire world swayed. Thoughts no longer made sense, she couldn't hold herself up, her vision swam—then the magic shorted and violently threw her back, ripping her from her Father, and ushering her consciousness into darkness.
Zack marveled in amazement as Aqua leapt what he guessed was about fifteen to twenty yards to land perfectly poised atop a stray board that stuck out from a collapsed roof, before vanishing off along those rooftops.
Man, how could he get himself one of those Keyblades?
Another explosive bombardment from Azul, collapsing where Aqua had just leapt from, brought Zack back to his unfortunate reality, alongside Squall and Rinoa. Not like this was the first foxhole they'd been in together, but never here—not at home, not in the Garden, not right in front of the damn Seventh Heaven.
"Wait, if you guys are here," Zack spoke quickly, keeping himself low and flat against the collapsed-wall-turned-bulwark, "then where the hell is Aerith?"
"With Merlin." Squall answered, quickly shoving Rinoa down as she tried to peek over the edge.
"They're putting out the fires." Squall finished.
"What?! She's here?!" Zack swore, as he now tried to raise his head up to look over the plaza again. The damned smoke had made it so hard to see—but it was slowly becoming thinner and thinner, "So how're we gonna get to her?"
"Like this." Rinoa smirked, detaching her blaster edge from the belt under her blue overcoat. Meant to attach to her wrist and fire a grava-returning projectile, the blaster edge was a favorite of hers. Taking it in one hand, she waved the other over it, whispering.
"What's she doing?" Zack asked, covering his head as another explosion rocked their hiding place—far too close; he could hear almost nothing but Azul's constant offensive.
"Magic." Squall deadpanned.
"No, duh." Zack muttered.
Rinoa tut-tutted both of them, "Special magic."
Sliding it onto her wrist and leaping up before Squall could stop her, Rinoa took careful aim and fired the disc—now glowing in some vaguely white light. Immediately, she ducked back down and hushed them. A few seconds passed, before another explosion resounded—but this one followed up by the bellowing roar of Azul.
Rinoa jumped up, and with a thwip, the blaster edge returned to its hilt on her wrist. Zack and Squall immediately followed, though once he examined the situation, Zack wasn't sure they were in a better place.
While smoke still poured from much of the plaza, from still-burning canopies and wood carts; most of it had simply been reduced to rubble with the cobblestone pavement burnt and ripped from the ground. The fountain was nonexistent anymore, crumbled entirely to a pile of rocks and spraying water.
Azul was stumbling about the wreckage, clutching at his right arm, which was itself smoking and burnt, with his cannon reduced to a mere scrap heap—exploded from the barrel down and back. Nero and Rosso were nowhere to be seen.
And that was the good news.
Because, now clear through the fading smoke, Aqua and her Father were both collapsed on the ground—possibly dead, Zack's worst pessimism feared. Ven was still standing, but barely—looking like a terrified kid, he was being knocked back and forth by the constant assaults of Weiss, fading in and out of visible sight.
Beyond him, Genesis stood, yet still—and Zack wondered if he was seeing things, because stretching out from his left shoulder was now an enormous black wing.
Rinoa, eying up the same situation and drawing similar conclusion, put forth a simple plan: "Gotta go!"
And with that, she took off over the bulwark, dashing toward Ven's weak defense and the now winged terrorist beyond him.
"Rinoa, wait!" Squall yelled, moving after her—but he and Zack were both closed off by the reappearance of Rosso and, behind her, Azul—who now roared not just generally, but quite specifically, at them.
Rosso covered her mouth, laughing, as Azul rumbled past her, viciously swinging with only his two enormous fists. Zack and Squall readied themselves, just as another form swung down upon Azul, embedding a sword deep into his shoulder.
Zack blanched to realize it was Cloud; did the kid know what kind of danger he was in? But, grinding his teeth, Zack knew the truth—no time to worry! They had to take advantage of it!
Together, he and Squall rushed forward to support Cloud, who had planted his feet on Azul's great chest and wrenched his blade free, using the force of release to swing around for his head.
But one giant hand caught the sword in return and pulled Cloud back, leaving him to dangle from the hilt. A shot from Squall's gunblade hit Azul in the fingers, though, forcing him to drop Cloud beside the onrushing Zack.
"Aerith is okay. She's with Tifa." Cloud said quietly and immediately, not even stopping to brush himself off. "They're helping Vincent."
"Aw, what the hell—Vincent is here, too?" Zack muttered, grateful for Cloud's clarity.
Cloud only nodded a response as one closed fist came crashing down between them, shattering the rocks underneath its blow. Zack cut at it as best he could as he moved, trying to rush his blade up Azul's arm.
Opening his hand, Azul moved to sweep Zack away, forcing him to jump up and over his trunk-like arms, and roll up to a stop beside Cloud, who had just fended off a first strike from Rosso.
"Ah, younger blood—now you are handsome, darling." Rosso whispered, pressing in close to Cloud's defense.
Zack cut in between them with the Tsurugi, forcing her back, "Why don't you stay away from him, huh?"
But Zack had misjudged, it seemed, for it was Cloud who darted forward with a broad swing, pressing the attack in the way that only he could—blow after blow after blow, all unaimed, all only intended to keep his opponent on the defensive.
Zack was still working out what he thought of that strategy, but for now, it worked.
Looking back to Azul, Zack caught brief sight of Rinoa fighting off both Weiss and Genesis—the latter now flying (what?) about her head and striking down with his red longsword, as Weiss shifted around her, never letting up the string of blows. Rinoa moved deftly between them, blocking Weiss with broad sweeps of her gunblade—always careful to keep him at a distance—and firing up at Genesis with her blaster edge.
The sight appeared almost choreographed as she switched back and forth between them—spinning with a great sweep at Weiss' katanas, while moving to catch the return of her blaster edge and fire it off again into the air, in prediction of Genesis' new movements. There seemed almost to be a slight glow about her. More "special magic", eh?
Squall, meanwhile, was diving and rolling under and around Azul's broad swings, firing off with the gunblade at his head. One shot, Zack cheered, made contact—snapping Azul's head back as if he were punched, but leaving no sort of puncture behind.
"Rinoa, stop!" Squall suddenly cried across the plaza, jarring Zack—for neither the worried tone, nor the demand to stop fighting seemed characteristic of Squall, who now appeared to be desperately pushing past Azul's enormous bulk to reach Rinoa's fight on the other side.
Zack, trusting them, left Cloud to push back Rosso and moved himself to distract Azul enough to let Squall get to Rinoa. Running, Zack spun the Tsurugi above his head and loosened its multiple blades, which he threw at Azul with a jerk of the hilt. Immediately, five dagger-like sword blades embedded themselves deep in his flesh, all the way up his arm and shoulder.
Meanwhile, Squall slid underneath the giant man and came back to a run on the other side, dashing toward Rinoa who had just gotten a remarkably lucky strike with the blaster edge that had, at least for the moment, dropped Genesis from the air in an explosive display.
With only the central blade of the Tsurugi remaining, Zack charged forward and swung, as Azul roared and moved to rip all the pieces from his arm. Zack's sword came down hard on Azul's grasping fingers, cutting one cleanly off, just as Zack grabbed the in-built hilt of one of the smaller blades, pulling it from Azul as ungracefully as he could before plunging it back, deep into a leg.
Suddenly, another scream broke across the plaza—deep and strong, full of shock and rage. In that brief moment, all eyes turned to Rinoa—who had, it seemed, hit Weiss directly in the chest with the blaster edge, judging by the dark and burnt skin.
But, even more relevant: from his chest emerged the tip of a gunblade, which Squall had driven to the hilt through his back. Another heartbeat went by and Squall, with only a sneer, pulled the trigger.
With that, Weiss was blown off the gunblade, his burnt body flying a few feet into the air before crashing and tumbling across the ground, and coming to a mangled stop, smoke rising from his flesh.
"Brother!" Nero cried, swooping in on darkened movements that violently threw Squall aside, to reach Weiss' body.
"You will all suffer for that!" Azul roared, turning back to Zack, just as a long, silver spear lodged itself deep into his back.
Following its trail back, Zack's spirit soared—there, at the entrance of the plaza, like the rising of the sun after a dark night, stood Commanders Dilan and Aeleus, and behind them, fanning legions of the PKF, weapons drawn.
"Judgment has arrived." Commander Aeleus' deep voice rang across the plaza, as he hefted his great hammer over his shoulder.
"No honor remains in your judgment." The crystal-clear voice of Genesis responded, as he lit down upon his wing to stand before the entire throng. "And your salvation is cruel."
Zack shrank back from Azul, who's attention was now directed elsewhere. Unsure of how, Rinoa was suddenly beside him, holding Squall up with an arm under him. Cloud, too, came to a stop with them, as Rosso flipped over and past him, to stand with Genesis and Azul, over Nero cradling the body of Weiss.
Commander Dilan merely shook his head and shrugged, "Fire."
All at once, two things happened. The PKF followed orders, as each helmeted soldier lifted their weapons, at least one-hundred strong, and poured their muskets into Deepground—or, at least, where they had stood.
Because, second, Azul lumbered before them and scooped up Nero and Weiss in his arms. Rosso, with a swing, lighted upon his shoulder and, finally, Genesis, with a great flap of his wing that seemed impossible to Zack on several levels, lifted the giant Tsviet and launched into the sky above like a rocket, vanishing from sight—leaving the PKF only to further scar the pavement.
After a minute of constant fire, Commander Dilan called for cessation and Aeleus began to direct the PKF out into the plaza to begin recovery and stabilization. For the first time, Zack allowed himself to really breathe, and he collapsed on his haunches, letting the Tsurugi fall amongst its many scattered pieces.
The four of them, Rinoa, Squall, Cloud, and Zack, together looked with exhaustion and shock over the entire devastation; of crumbling houses, hollowed-out shops, and burnt bodies. The entire plaza, so bright and familiar just an hour ago, now seemed to Zack more an alien landscape; some barren mountain-top burnt by a forest fire—its haunting silence now broken only by the loud wailings of Ven, who crouched, crying and shaking, over the forms of his father and sister.