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Chapter XVI: Shadows of a Dream
There is no such thing as a painless lesson;
you can't gain anything
without losing something first.
~Full-Metal Alchemist
Radiant Garden had, in more ancient days, been built up in seven tiers, echoing a waterfall in their ridged descent: the districts, circled around Hollow Bastion, each with an uphill path all-its-own that ascended, in equal access, to the castle itself at the center of it all.
Through long atrophy of time and corruption the more elite tended to live in the highest districts, amidst the culture-centers of Six and the mansions of Seven, which could look out nearly over the great walls and down upon the more terrestrial districts below—populated mostly amidst the slums of One, and the more middling homes of Two and Three, with Four and Five filled mostly with industry and commerce.
Yet, there were a few who lived outside the walls. Travelers camped on long journeys, eccentrics lived in small huts, and some caravans would even built up temporary shanties for a time—but there were few permanent buildings outside the walls. Only the winding track of the train broke the landscape of broad, green plains and little pockets of trees, as it ascended up to be received through the wall at the Fourth District, halfway up the city and high enough from the ground that the great hole carved through the wall could not weaken the defenses.
The unfortunate side effect of the train being, of course, that the lowest districts were cut-off, even more, from the lifeblood of the city.
Farther along away from the city, close to the dark-blue rock of the canyons that carved a long scar into the earth that zigzagged away into the horizon, there stood a few guard towers, holdovers from the days of the Horned King, which kept watch over the deep parts of the canyons that could not be seen from the walls; small, thin, rods keeping watch over the quiet air.
And as Zack adjusted his Shinra-issued helmet—essentially PKF standard, with a few adjustments—he wished there was more cover out here, rather than just the exceptionally gorgeous, near-endless, countryside.
"Are you sure they won't notice us?" Zack asked again, peaking out through the cover of the wagon, back up toward the top of the walls and the small, black specks that patrolled them.
"Transports constantly enter and leave the Garden," Vincent responded, his face likely implacable under his dark helmet, which dropped a black visor over the face.
"But since the Attack—"
Rinoa shook her own covered head, "They all care a lot more about what's going in, than what's going out."
"But they will notice if you keep poking your head out to look around!" Aerith chided, glancing over her shoulder from where she sat up from with Cid, who guided the horses. She was the only one without Shinra's standard dark blue fatigues, with metal knee and shoulder pads. Instead, she wore the white lab coat of a technician, over a simple blouse and skirt.
Cid chuckled from beside her, "Aw, ain't nobody gonna notice nothin'—not with my beautiful uniforms finally serving a good purpose!"
"About that—" Rinoa started, one finger raised, "The, ah, smell—"
"Head for the second watchtower." Vincent interrupted, leaning forward to point a long finger out past Cid.
"A'ight," Cid replied, turning the horses slightly, as they closed in on the first, "Why that one, eh?"
"It's the only one manned." Vincent responded, sitting back, "Why do you suppose that is?"
"The PKF lets Shinra man its posts?" Zack asked, with rather a bit more incredulity than he intended to betray.
Rinoa responded this time, tipping back her helmet to breathe, "Shinra's contracts net them all sorts of special benefits."
"We're only the next shift." Vincent continued in his ever-monotone, sitting as stiff and unmoving in Cid's old suits as he would in anything else, "They won't realize until it's too late that there wasn't supposed to be one."
"And getting out?" Zack continued, "You still haven't—"
"Shinra is everywhere." Vincent interrupted, "Like an infection coursing under the surface. There will be a way out."
Zack nodded, trying both to trust Vincent and hold a healthy skepticism, both kept alive by the explosive excitement that had long ago set his foot tapping and kept his worry for Aerith at bay.
"Hey! Ah, greetins'!" Cid suddenly called, waving his arm as they approached the guardtower. Within the wagon's canopy, Zack instinctively ducked low, as Vincent slid his triple-barreled revolver from its holster and leaned forward to shoot over Cid's shoulder.
With stealthful grace, however, Rinoa slid forward and grabbed the gun by the hammer and gently pushing it down.
"No killing." She mouthed in the barest of whispers, accompanied by a rueful smile, as Vincent narrowed his eyes, "Besides, it's more fun this way, right?"
Zack watched as, without even so much as a creak, Rinoa lighted her out the back of the wagon, giving one little wave on her way out of sight. He couldn't help but return a thumbs-up, even as Vincent merely sat back stoically.
"It's how Rin is." Zack mouthed with a shrug, "eye-for-an-eye, everyone's blind, and all that."
"Ah, yeah, the boss ordered another lab rat along, y'know—" Cid had continued mumbling, as the guard raised his voice, asking for identification.
Vincent's frown shifted and he raised his revolver again— and Zack didn't try to stop him. This, not because he knew it'd be a loud struggle or because he wasn't totally on board with Rinoa's program (after all, at some point, death had to be necessary, right? For good?), no—
No, he didn't stop Vincent because he knew Rinoa would be faster.
And just before Vincent could even finishing aiming, there came a slight gasp, a little pop, and precisely two seconds of struggle—a brief, effective play that earned a little clap from Aerith and Cid's admiring whistle
"Whoo—ee! Not bad, little lady."
Gesturing for Vincent to follow, Zack popped his head out the front. The guard lay crumpled in Rinoa's arms, releasing one final groan as Rinoa rolled him over to tie his arms.
"You said there were two of them?" she asked, looking up with a smile from under her dark visor. Vincent only nodded—most security had been drawn back into the city after the Attack.
Finishing the tie and stuffing the guard's mouth, Rinoa unhooked her blaster edge from behind her back and started to move toward the tower—open on the bottom, with only a winding staircase that disappeared inside a single metal plated enclosure that opened to the air around the top edge.
"Just give it a second." Zack encouraged the others, as he climbed down from the wagon and offered Aerith a hand, gesturing to watch Rinoa as she vanished up the cheap, metal stairs inside.
Five seconds passed, then ten. Vincent began moving for the tower.
"Shouldn't we—" Cid murmured, jerking his thumb to follow, as Aerith looked worried, and Zack lifted the guard's unconscious form into wagon.
Zack sighed, and opened his mouth to respond, but Rinoa's unhelmeted head popped up over the open edge of the enclosure, "There were three, Mr. Valentine!"
Vincent didn't respond, only grunted and entered the tower himself, as Rinoa continued to shout, "And because of that, you have to carry them out!"
"See, I told you—" Zack nodded, inspired by Rinoa's efficiency and artistry. "She's the best in the biz'!"
Taking one final glance around to be sure that no one was in view—and none were, for the last camper they had passed was a quite ways back, and the walls were so far you could not longer see their base—Zack tossed the guard unceremoniously into the back of the wagon and, wiping his hands, turned to see Aerith already halfway up the rickety stairwell and dashed to follow her.
Inside, the small tower was cramped—especially with the three unconscious guards tied up in a corner. Sensitive banks of flashing radio equipment covered the walls, hooked by enormous wires up to a spiraling antennae on the roof, though nothing nearly so complex as the advanced system that the Lord Protector was rumored to keep in the Bastion's basement.
Rinoa welcomed Vincent with a sweeping bow, "All yours!"
With a grunt, Vincent finally holstered his revolver and stepped forward to stand over the long panel of, what seemed to Zack, far too many buttons and levers for one tiny guardpost—and with a few pulls and pushes from Vincent, Zack found is suspicion confirmed: a low grumbling rose from below the tower and, without fanfare or introduction, Vincent turned and walked out:
"Let's go."
Squall hated this plan. And he hated every damn second that passed, as he knew each one was a point at which the offensively stupid plan could go wrong and he wouldn't be there.
Of course, even after he had left in protest, he had made Rinoa tell him the entire plan, so he could rightfully, once again, call it foolhardy and plead his case to stop her from going.
It was his battle to win—of all their arguments, here, he had the strongest ground. He knew it. Rinoa knew it. They both knew it.
He'd pulled out all the stops, he noted in numeric order all the risks, every step where it could go wrong.
She'd merely responded with an accepting nod.
He'd pointed out that under other circumstances, she'd hate even the idea of this plan—Vincent was a smart and capable man, but any plan born of revenge and aimed at assassination was something shouldn't trust, in fact, she should despise it.
She'd agreed, on all accounts. She didn't trust it, nor did she approve.
He'd pointed out that it endangered everything, all her precious freedom, all her peace, all the things she still had yet to see—it endangered everything.
She'd only reminded him that living at all was a danger; that there was no freedom without risk.
But why, he had asked, why risk so much?
She'd asked him then if he had followed all of Aerith's little movements. Had he noticed how all her plants were nearly being drowned? Had he noted the absence of even a single speck of dust amidst the whole house? Had he noticed that all his books had been re-order alphabetically?
And much to his annoyance, Squall had been forced to admit that, no, he had not noticed all these things.
Rinoa had nodded—it was for that person that she was doing this. Aerith needed answers. Aerith deserved answers. And Vincent's plan, as unfortunately born and aimed as it was, was the best way to get those answers.
And Squall knew then he couldn't argue. For Rinoa, it was love and risk and freedom all tied up—and, for her, there was nothing else worthwhile to be had, in all of life.
And so here he was: instead of any of the many protests he had planned, Squall found himself standing outside the PKF Communications Hub, bustling with activity on the first floors of the Bastion, emerging from the underground and beginning to rise to the level of the second district.
He was waiting. Waiting to catch when one of those stupid steps of that stupid plan stupidly failed.
Inevitably, it would come through here, where all reports of public safety came. It would give him some warning; direct him on where to go and bail his friends out.
And that was when it happened. A young cadet suddenly stood up from his PHS station, one of a dozen in this stone room warmed by the Fira light, and scribbled a quick note before dashing for exit.
With a practiced normalcy, Squall stepped in his way and allowed the young man to smash himself into his shoulder, sending him flailing down to the floor with a crash.
Squall frowned, even more than he already was planning to—how weak did they send them out of the academy these days?
"Where are you going in such a hurry, young man?" Squall asked, reaching down to take the boy's arm as the others nearby turned back to their work.
"S-sir—" the man noticed Squall's insignias, "L-Lieutenant, one of the Shinra sub-contractors in Guardpost #2 did not perform their quarterly check-in, sir."
Squall nodded seriously, as the young man shook—perhaps he thought he was in the process of saving the Garden from another attack?
"Very good, Cadet." Squall affirmed, taking the small paper from his hand, "I'll get a unit out to check in."
The man didn't fight him, but nor did he immediately turn back to his desk.
"And I'll ensure that your attention to detail makes it into your record, soldier." Squall added, turning away.
"T-Thank you, sir!" came the reply, the salute, and the dash back to his desk.
Squall shook his head at such a typical glory-seekers, as he quietly left the room, burning the paper to ash in his gloved hand with a spark of fire magic—why were they all just clones of Zack?
"Are you sh*ttin' me?!" Cid exclaimed, his voice echoing about the enormous bay, "Are you goddamn sh*ttin' me? These are my f*cking designs! This is my damn hangar!"
Zack had to stare in awe, appreciative of Cid's frustration: the facility they entered beneath the guardhouse was enormous. At one far end, two great doors seemed to open to the outsid—most likely into the canyon itself, based on where they stood. On the other, the great space faded back into darkness of tunnels, all strung up with fira lights as if it were an empty street under night construction.
In between, great pillars held up the roof, with space enough between their two rows for a craft as wide as a train car was long. Great grooves were etched into the concrete floor, marked with gravira magic and charms, while in the background, some distant rumble constantly hummed.
"The space program continued long after you left." Vincent spoke quietly, as he strode toward the tunnels, the rest falling in to follow him even as they marveled at the enormity of the cave.
"Did they ever…?" Cid's voice dropped, even to an uncharacteristic whisper.
Vincent responded without looking back, "Does this hangar appear used?"
"Right, right…" Cid murmured, "Still, they get all my work, and alls I get is a lousy barn…" before glancing, with slight apology, back at Aerith, "But, hey, a barn's sweet, too."
"So Shinra's really dug all this under the Garden?" Zack asked, hand glazing the smooth walls of the perfectly carved tunnels.
Vincent didn't look back, "Some they found, some they built."
Aerith spoke, for the first time in a long while, pulling her white coat tighter around herself, "Found?"
"The Cauldron Wars." Vincent responded, "Though some Shinra determined to be…quite a bit older."
"So they really have that much dough…" Zack replied at no one in particular, voice caught between fascination and bewilderment.
"Power and war will make you rich." Rinoa murmured, "Basically all PKF equipment comes from them, you know."
"Well, sure, some of it—" Zack started, hefting the sword hanging from his back, "But some of us are unique! Like Angeal and the Tsurugi here—"
Vincent interrupted him, "Check the base, under the hilt."
Though certain that there was nothing new to learn about the sword after the dozens of hours he had spent cleaning it, Zack hesitantly pulled it down from his shoulder and glanced over the guard, lit by the flickering fira of the tunnel.
There, sure enough, just under the hilt, was a small ring of numbers: 4815.
A serial number?! How had he not noticed that before? Had he not been looking?
"Ah, well…" he muttered, shouldering the weapon again, "that's new. But it doesn't matter where it came from—it's what you do with it!"
"Right. Fight the bad guys." Vincent said, in a tone as cold as the blue-marbled stone that was becoming ever more visible the deeper they walked.
"So just finish off all the fightin', eh?" Cid whistled as he fingers still traced the walls, "That'd cost Shinra a pretty penny."
"Why do you think they'd ever allow that to happen?" Vincent continued, eyes straight ahead
"Eh? Where the f*ck's your conscience!" Cid exclaimed, marching up beside him.
"When you're only a small cog, any job is easy." Came Vincent's response, "Even those two guards had no idea the secret they were protecting."
With that, the walk descended into reflective silence. In the distance, far beyond the broadening walls, the rumble clarified itself—the pouring water of the aquifers that fed the Garden's waterfalls and rivers, and the massive pumps that moved it all.
Pipes had begun to appear overhead, crossing and criss-crossing in large and small, carrying water from ancient underground wells to end up in some grand fountain in the Eight district, or the tiny tap of some house in the Second: all around them ebbed and flowed the veritable ocean under Radiant Garden.
Their quiet march continued only a little while more, before Vincent raised a hand to beckon they all stop. Before them, the tunnel came to a close at a tall metal door, pristine against the stone, with a broad locking mechanism attached into the mechanics of the wall beside it.
"Cid?" Vincent beckoned forward.
Cracking his knuckles, the engineer pulled up his visor and leaned his own long spear against the wall, allowing him to crouch before the mechanism and begin pulling little tools from his belt, "I'll have this done quicker than a virgin on his first night!"
Snorting, Zack felt the anxious tingling carry up his legs at being forced to stand still. Glancing around for a distraction, the rumbling mixed with Cid's tinkering reminded Zack how quiet Aerith had been this whole time, now just standing alone with her hands stuffed uncomfortably in the small pockets of her white coat.
"Hey, how're you doing?" he asked in a low voice, moving to stand more closely beside her.
"Good, actually." Aerith responding, voice confident. He had expected an inviting 'fine' or an unsure 'alright', but Aerith seemed…resolute?
"Oh?" Zack added, unsure of what her confidence left for him.
"Yes." Aerith nodded, "We're going to find the truth."
"Have you…" Zack paused briefly, "what if he was just lying?"
Aerith nodded, "Of course I thought about that." Her eyes finally turned to him in earnesty, "I've thought about nothing else."
Zack nodded—he understood, "and if he is?"
"Then like I said, I'll know the truth." Aerith nodded again, in that slight and repeated way that seemed to affirm herself, "But Merlin's story tells me that it's true. There's something special about my mother." She paused again, speaking quieter, "There's something special about me."
Zack frowned, gently turning her head back to him, "Aerith, even if there isn't, there is. Always has been."
She didn't respond. Only her eyes searched his until Cid muttered, "F*ck yeah."
Turning back to the work at hand, Zack saw that Cid had dissembled the whole blinking mechanism from the wall, letting it simply fall from the door and into several pieces at Cid's feet. Chuckling, he restored his visor and spear with a smile, "We're in real deep sh*t now."
"Beyond this door is the final basement level of Shinra, just above the Sensitive Projects division." Vincent's hard, red eyes gazed over each of them, "One mistake will doom us all. Soldier don't talk. Aerith keeps it to a minimum."
"And an elevator to the President's office is on that floor, too?" Rinoa inquired.
"Yes." Vincent's eyes fell on her, nearly shining in the shadows, "Will you stop me?"
Rinoa smirked from under her visor, "Not yet. I'm here for Aerith's mother."
Vincent held her gaze for another moment before turning away, "Keep to the plan."
And with that, he opened the tall door. Zack stood a little straighter, Aerith hung a little closer, Rinoa cracked her knuckles, and Cid and Vincent marched forward, leading them into the light.
Inside, the floor was no longer stone, but metal slats—like the shiny scaffolding that would be set up to repair parts of the Bastion—creating the illusion that they were walking over an endless pit of pipes and wires and engines beneath them.
This was only encouraged by the sense that they were walking amidst a jungle of the stuff—little carved-out paths amidst great canopies of piping, steam and whirring mechanics. A white-noise of clicks and hissing filled the air, as the group took stock of the long hallway they had entered into, which wandered into multiple branching paths through the 'forest'.
Vincent, ever-himself, immediately strode forward without looking back, and the rest followed, trying their best not to look surprised or even at all interested, in the bizarre new world they had entered.
It was only within a few minutes of leaving the door behind them that the first Shinra employees appeared—white-smocked scientists with clipboards, some clicking away at panels, others marching in and out of side rooms from which Zack could hear small, muffled explosions emerge.
Some nodded an acknowledgement at the group. Zack considered returning a small nod, but Aerith would beat him too it—without fail greeting every passing person with a friendly "good morning!" and brief small talk about the weather or their appearance—and, somehow, it worked. But Zack found himself troubled.
Not for the same reason that it almost certainly troubled Vincent, who would be disturbed that such small kindnesses were working, but because Zack could tell that Aerith was faking what normally came naturally to her. She didn't mean the good-mornings. Her smile didn't upturn in the same way. The small talk was cut short, even as it probably seemed more than abundant to most of her interlocutors.
And Aerith never faked anything.
This only affirmed the increasingly heart-pounding sense of surrealism that plagued him—here they were, in the heart of Shinra, surrounded by enemies and discoverable at any moment, with Aerith pretending to be nice. Was this the real world? Or had they been transported into some alternate dimension?
Suddenly, the soldier uniform felt tight and hot; sweltering.
Suddenly, Zack, with sweating hands and unsteady breathing, found himself heavily questioning the plan.
But, then again, his racing pulse and pumping adrenaline lent a spring to his step that he was addicted to, even as his whole being tensed into a paradox of nerves and excitement, making him wish he could pump out a few squats right then and there.
But Zack knew he could show no response—Aerith nudged him at even the slightest start of a tapping foot or twitching finger. He had to be like Vincent, who would only occasionally stop, when the passers-by thinned out, gaze about, and lean against the wall as if testing it with his hand, before moving on through the maze of paths.
Speaking of passers-by, they were becoming less and less commom. The side rooms for testing and development were becoming harder and harder to come by, even as the thickness of the wiring and machinery seemed to close in ever-more oppressively.
As their present hallway came to a sharp turn, Vincent nodded slightly at one final door—their escape point, which would deposit them, through many tunnels and some tight squeezes, out into either the sewers or one of the many water processors under the Garden. Zack prayed again it would be the latter.
Turning the corner beyond it, the metal path beneath them began to slant down until it reached a sudden stop at another metal door, larger than all the previous, locked all up and down its side with thick bolts. The piping and wires and other bronzed machinery continued on and disappeared beyond it.
And unfortunately, two guards stood there, too, one on each side, ready to receive them.
The demand was immediate: "Identification-"
But before he could barely finish the word, Rinoa's blaster edge was out and two quiet, thwumping shots were fired. Each connected in the abdomen, causing both guards to keel over.
Rinoa and Vincent were both blurs—each with a few strikes, and Rinoa with a knee, ushered both guards into unconsciousness. Vincent beckoned Cid forward as Zack dashed back to the turn in the hall to see if anyone was coming their way.
No one, he mouthed, shaking his haed.
Good, good. This was going pretty good so far, all things considered. He was still sweating as all hell, though, and the excitement was only increasing. By the end of the near ten minutes it took for Cid to crack the locks, Zack felt like he had worked a whole day; wasted by exhaustion. But still, no one had discovered them.
As the metal door swung open, Zack retreated with the others, dragging the two unconscious guards into a dark, gravira elevator. Vincent seem unsurprised, and so Zack tried his best to appear so as well, even as the great door fell shut behind them and plunged the whole thing into darkness—which then dropped out entirely beneath them. Everyone stumbled and bumped against each other, except seemingly Vincent, whose voice remained steady from within the darkness.
"Be prepared for anything."
The whirring of the elevator continued, deeper and deeper, getting ever more rickety and grinding, as if it had been built hastily, or around something previously hidden in the blue-rocked earth. The air had become thick and the smell rotted. As the elevator slowed, everyone still in darkness, Zack found Aerith's hand in his—to which he gave an encouraging squeeze, as much for himself as for her.
All at once, the elevator came to stop and no one, it seemed, dared even to breathe.
But then Vincent pulled the creaky doors open and the whole, small square was blinded by a blistering brightness that nearly burned their eyes. Rinoa and Zack reacted out of habit and ducked back into cover around the edges, pulling Aerith and Cid, swearing prolifically, with them.
"Don't shoot." came Vincent's voice, sounding as if he was stepping off the elevator and into whatever lay beyond. How had he not been blinded, Zack wondered?
After a moment, with no attack or obvious danger, they all found their eyes adjusting and Zack moved forward first, after Vincent, to examine what level of hell they had snuck their way into.
Some sort of extreme fira seemed to be burning far above to fill the room with light, made worse by the pure white which made it appear to be alight of its own internal illumination. The whole thing widened out from the elevator like a diamond, only to meet in a long hallway on the other side.
Sword raised, Zack beckoned forward as he saw no obvious threats. Vincent seemed to agree—the only things in the room were doors. On the walls branching out from beside them, tall silver doors were all chained shut with thick, heavy steel wrapped across each, four in total. Rinoa was already trying to look through them, with little luck—no windows, and no knobs—they might as well have been fakes, carved into the sheer, sterile metal walls.
"These…these are surgical theaters…" Aerith whispered, her voice one thin note from where she had wandered, across the room.
"Holy—" escaped from Zack's lips as he rushed to stand beside her, outside one of another four opposite doors. Inside were small rectangles, the size of a bedroom, each holding a single chair with metal straps hanging open for the arms and legs. The walls were covered with shelving, holding chisels and syringes and hammers; scalpels, and spreaders and a dozen other things that Zack wasn't even sure Aerith could recognize.
"What…were they going here…?" Aerith mumbled, green eyes wide and transfixed.
With terrible certainty, Zack knew he had found at least one of the answers he had been looking for, "Banon was right. This is what he was talking about. Experiment." He bit out the last part through gritted teeth, "Human experiments."
Banon, that terrified, crazy man, had been right. Shinra had been doing unspeakable things. Right here. Under their noses. Under the Garden. He had been right.
And he had been murdered for it.
"Oh, god…" Rinoa's bit-out gasp echoed around the room, as everyone stumbled to look with her into the final of the surgical rooms.
"What the goddamn f*cking f*ck—" Cid hacked first and turned away to vomit, even as Zack felt the bile rise in him as well, mixed with deep wells of rage that made his fists clench. Aerith, somewhat accustomed by her work, looked on with her hand over her mouth and a tremble to her form, as Rinoa finally turned away, shaking her head, eyes dark.
The fourth theater was covered in dried, crusted blood, mixed together with fluids Zack couldn't even begin to discern. Tools lay scattered about, in puddles still wet, as jars of unknown yellows and sickly oranges lay split across the whole mess—even the walls and windows were splattered in red, long rivers of dried maroon. The mechanical chair in the center seemed bent—one arm was crushed and twisted, as the backrest hung attached only by one rod.
Zack quietly praised the gods that he had faced down Tifa's fierce eyes to convince her not to come. He didn't want her, or Cloud, to have seen this. This was worse than he could've ever imagined.
"Vincent…" Rinoa spoke quietly, still looking away, "Was this where—"
Human experimentation. Murder. Torture. More dots, fueled by a just rage, connected for Zack and he turned quickly to see Vincent, his thin, dark form a striking contrast against the white, standing still in the center of the diamond, dark red eyes staring out past them with a silence and stoicism all his own.
But just as Zack was about to speak words he didn't yet know, born from pity and rage of Vincent's place in all this, the still man raised a hand, eyes narrowing, "Quiet."
It was easily done, and the perfectly white room fell to a complete silence—the kind of silence that creates a buzz all its own that almost draws you in and drives you mad with its perfect solitude.
But then there was a single note. A tap? A breath? No, Zack thought, it was too fluid. It was something more—it rose and fell, it stopped and started, it drifted over down the long hall that closed the diamond, across the elevator—another dark corner into which no one had yet tread.
As it rose and fell one more time, Zack recognized with a chill: it was humming.
"No, wait—Aerith!" Zack exclaimed in a near whisper, as the girl seemed to comprehend it too, simultaneous with him, and dashed after the sound, just dodging Zack's grab at her arm.
Racing after her, down the slim and short hall, Zack only just noticed as he passed barred-cell after barred-cell, squat little squares with barely enough room to stretch out. Was there something in them, hunched or hovering in the shadows?
But Aerith had fallen to a breathless standstill, before the final cage on the right before the hallway ascended a half-dozen steep stairs to meet yet another grand metal door, this one etched over in some kind of writing.
But as Zack flew to a stop beside Aerith, following her gaze in past the bars, he was robbed of any other concern. In a space barely bigger than a single bed, a woman lay with her back to one wall, and her legs pulled up tight under her and the tatters of clothing that still hung to her.
Her dirtied, brown hair was matted and torn, missing entirely in places, as long as her waist in others. Thick, swollen scars covering her body, with pricks and bruises all up and down her bony arms that were wrapped about her impossibly tiny frame.
But her eyes—Zack thought it impossible, but her eyes were two distant emeralds, gems familiar to him, stark against the shadowed whites; bright against her pale and clammy skin.
"Rinoa! Rin!" Zack shouted, nearly collapsing upon the bolts and bars that kept locked away this person, this woman; Aerith's—
The clangs and cuts as Rinoa joined him seemed to stir Aerith to attention, out of her dreamlike stare at this older doppleganger, wasted away in the cage. With a cry that pierced Zack's heart to the core, Aerith flailed forward and jammed her small arms through the bars, reaching through the squalor to that hunched and broken creature.
"Mothe—Ilfa, Ifalna—give me, give me your hand—" she begged, demanded, pleaded, stretching her fingers as far as they could go, "I can—I can help you; we're here to help you, I'm—I'm Ae-Aerith!"
No response had been elicited by all the work and worry of Zack and Rinoa, but when Aerith spoke, the woman raised one poor, fragile hand, fingers crooked and bruised by repeated breakings, with her fingertips only just touching Aerith's—who had already begun her chants and murmured cures.
But the green light was dim, and did not straighten bones nor heal scars—only a few bruises lightened. As Aerith closed her eyes in scrunched focus, Zack left breaking the door down to Rinoa's capable hands and reached out to support Aerith; holding her steady as she leaned all her weight forward to reach through the bars as far as she could.
"It's too close." The woman spoke in rasp, slipping through her cracked lips, as her head lolled, "too close, too close—even for your lovely cures…Aerittthhhh…"
Aerith's eyes snapped open, gazing across at those which stared back at her from above a gap-toothed smile, "but, but one day—the…the castles will be built and she'll…she'll be gone…"
Zack could feel Aerith's body shaking in his arms, all wonder and fear and shock and confusion, "Are—are you—"
"Ohhhh, Aerith…" the woman crooned, taking Aerith's fingertips weakly in her own, "What a…a…lovely young woman you are…"
And with that, Aerith broke. Ttears flowed in silent sobs as she clung to some mix of Zack's arms and the bars, "You're—you're really—"
"Oh, child, don't cry!" Ifalna, Aerith's mother, to Zack's unprocessable shock, chided with a hissing chortle, "we're at a party after all! Just look at the…at the lights…"
And her humming continued, even as she rubbed Aerith's hands, hich jolted and convulsed in tandem with her tears.
"Now…now, tell me—" Ifalna inquired, her head lolling forward, "Did you bring…any flowers…? My room could use…it's so empty you see, just my dishes and baubles and a few small friends…"
Aerith's sobs came heavier now, even as Zack felt warm tears on his own cheeks. Ifalna was here, somehow—miraculously, Aerith's mother was alive.
But Ifalna also wasn't here.
"Oh, shush, Lightning—you musn't…" Ifalna murmured, to something invisible beyond Aerith's shoulder, "you mustn't be so…insensitive…"
"Got it." Rinoa muttered, stepping back as chains and bolts fell and the barred gate swung open with a piercing creak
Immediately, Aerith was through the door and collapsed gently around her mother, trying now to control her heaves, making them into little hiccups, as she tried again at her cure magic. Ifalna merely continued humming, eyes distant.
"I don't…" Zack mumbled, passing by Rinoa, "Her magic is perfect! Why isn't it working?"
Rinoa's eyes narrowed, her frown deepening, "There's something wrong here. In the air. Nothing's flowing like it should."
Zack followed her eyes back to the elevated door at the hallway's end, which stood in silent watch. But somehow it seemed almost to keep his gaze; as if, in fact, staring back in pitiless serenity at scene unfolding before it.
It wasn't…moving, was it, Zack wondered? What was behind there, with its whole body pressed against the door, listening to what might let it out…?
But then, Zack was shaken from what had felt almost like a dream, to hear Ifalna speak again, "Oh! Oh! How could I forget! I have—I have something special for you…"
"No, no—" Aerith whispered gently, a worrying breathlessness to her voice, "You don't need to talk. It's okay. We'll…we'll make this work…"
"Ah, but…but I hid it…I hid it very well…" Ifalna thin lips gave a cheeky smile and, suddenly in her previously empty hand was a single white orb, swirled with a sky-blue. With startling force, she grabbed one of Aerith's attentive hands and closed it over the little bauble.
"We need to go." Vincent's voice commanded, from down in the diamond.
"What's…this…?" Aerith paused, haggard in voice and focus.
"Good news. The Great…the Great Gospel…" Ifalna's eyes flickered closed, seeming to savor something, "Seven Hearts…Five Keys…One Sky…Kingdom Hearts…"
Aerith just seemed to freeze, sitting there with her mother in one arm and a small globe in the opposite hand, emerald eyes trying to process far more than any one person should ever have to.
Rinoa, meanwhile, let out a little breath of air in some expression Zack wasn't sure of.
With regret, but intention, Zack nodded and moved forward, gently scooping Ifalna's nearly weightless body in his arms, "Alright, we've…we've gotta get out of here."
"I don't understand…why it's not working…" Aerith murmured, still kneeling in the filth of the cell floor.
Holding Ifalna in one arm, Zack reached down to carefully pull Aerith to her feet. But as he did, Ifalna whispered, "It's death. She's too close…."
A sudden wave of nausea, accompanied by a deep buzzing, nearly caused Zack to stumble, but it passed just as quickly as it came, and he steadied Ifalna in his arms.
"Oh, sir…" she murmured, pulling at her scraps of clothing, "Please don't tell Gast about all this…I would die of embarrassment…"
"I, ah—" Zack nodded, "Of course not, ma'am. My lips are sealed."
"Good…good boy…" Ifalna replied, continuing to hum quietly and intermittently, "Just…tell him I'll be…home soon…"
Rinoa stepped forward, blinking away her own experience, as she guided Aerith after them, "Come on, honey. We need to get out of here."
Vincent had remained precisely where he had been when the first entered the cell, watching them with those narrow eyes, all hobbling together out from the hallway.
Leaning against on one of the white walls to right, Cid startled, gasped, and cursed under his breath when he saw Ifalna's condition, but he fell silent as everyone froze.
An ever-so-clear note dinged about in the emptiness of the laboratory.
Ifalna began clamoring and mumbling in Zack's arms as, before them, the gravira elevator slid open to reveal a stick of a man, arms tucked in a lab coat, with thin and greasy black hair tied up behind his narrow head.
Faster than Zack could blink, Vincent's revolver was raised and the trigger pulled, but the shot went wide and burnt a dark hole in the white wall beside the entrance. Aerith, having nearly flew forward, held Vincent's arm shoved down.
"Help her right now, you goddamn monster!" Aerith screamed, in a voice that froze Zack's blood faster than the appearance of the man who must be Hojo.
"I'm honored you accepted my invitation," Hojo said, in a voice as reedy as his body, as he stepped out from the elevator and glanced at the scorch mark to his left, "And saved my life."
"I said help her—" Aerith repeated.
"I heard you." Hojo interrupted, "There is no more helping Ifalna. Not without you here, anyway."
"What are you talking about?" Aerith demanded, still holding Vincent's arm down.
"Ifalna is unique. I would need a genetic match to help recover her from a…strenuous few years," Hojo adjusted his glasses, "Hence, your presence. Stay, and I will allow your friends to go free. Try to leave…" raising his other hand, Hojo revealed his own small pistol and a PHS, "And I shall have to call security and get to some…real work."
Ifalna was hiding her face against Zack's shoulder, murmuring things Zack couldn't understand. Rinoa stood close behind him, as Aerith, unthinkably, stood ahead of all of them and seemed almost as if she were considering his offer.
"Or you let us go, and keep your labs intact." Vincent responded, pushing an unresponsive Aerith back, and lifting a small detonator from his belt. A sharp intake from Rinoa affirmed Zack's conclusion: Vincent had been placing explosives the whole way down.
In that moment of total stunned silence, Zack heard Ifalna whisper something. She still leaned against his shoulder like a baby, but her voice was suddenly very different—a different Ifalna, from another time, another place, another life.
"You are the inheritor of a great people; the scattered light of Kingdom Hearts—" her eyes locked upon Aerith's, whose gaze seemed far-distant, as she stood still where Vincent had shoved her, "You are my daughter—and I love you."
"Ah, Vincent Valentine…" Hojo smiled, "One a Turk, always a Turk—but it isn't your choice. Or mine. Child!"
Aerith glanced up, and away from her mother's eyes.
"Tell me, have you found your answers? Or only more questions?" He raised a brow, over the sight of his pistol, "I have much more to tell. Just step through that door, stay with me, and we'll discover it together."
Behind them, one of the empty cell doors clicked, hissed, and fell open.
"And all of them, including your mother, gets out of here alive."
Zack couldn't take it anymore and snorted, shaking his head, "Yeah, right. BS—you're done if you let us leave. We'll bring the PKF down so hard that it'll knock you right down to the bottom of the wells—a bath it really looks like you need, by the way."
"Right. Of course." Hojo smiled politely, boiling Zack's blood.
"Yeah, of course they will, you idiot—"
"What will we be doing?" Aerith asked, looking back between her mother and the open cage.
"No." Vincent responded, raising his revolver again to match Hojo's, who turned his weapon to return the favor.
Zack's thoughts were coming slower now—was Aerith serious? How could she even be thinking about this? Sure, she'd sacrifice herself for them, of course, damn, she did that everyday! But Aerith wasn't stupid. Even Ven could tell that this guy wasn't trustworthy—and Ven once believed for a year that thunder magic had to be harvested from lightning storms because a shopkeeper said so.
"Tell me." Aerith re-affirmed, resolutely stepping forward to stand between Zack, Rinoa and Hojo, "What did you do to her?"
"Don't leave me...don't…" Ifalna whispered weakly in Zack's arms as Aerith stepped further away.
Meanwhile, Zack concluded the only thing reasonable: Aerith wasn't really considering it, at all.
"Groundbreaking work. Unfortunately, Ifalna was always…somewhat hesitant." Hojo responded, "But if you can accommodate yourself to certain necessities, we can be partners." His eyes glinted, "We would learn everything—about your past, your person; everything you've always wondered late at night, unable to sleep."
Looking down as discreetly as possible, Zack saw that he and Rinoa were on the same page. Ever so slowly, her blaster edge was being drawn from her holster, hidden behind Aerith's ill-fitted lab coat.
"I-I see…" Aerith murmured, "And you swear my mother and friends will leave Shinra alive?"
"Absolutely."
"And no one will go after them?"
"They'll be no need." Hojo smiled with what Zack imagined he thought to be welcome, but it just came across as satisfaction.
"I would…love to know…" Aerith replied, "So many mysteries and so much fear, just to know would be comforting…" Aerith looked over to Vincent, and back over her shoulder to Cid, to Zack and Ifalna, and finally lingering on Rinoa, "But I don't need to." She looked back resolutely, "I have everything I need, and I won't surrender it, any of it, for anything."
"Tch, you give up answers for simple comforts?" Hojo sneered.
"No," Aerith answered, "It's the other way around. They're my answers."
And with that, from over her shoulder, Rinoa shot blasted Hojo's pistol from his hand, causing him to stumble back, the he second shot missing the PHS in his other hand.
But almost simultaneously, Vincent fired his own revolver, blasting Hojo's arm, causing him to drop the PHS and fall back beside the elevator, blood smearing on the white walls behind him.
Vincent chambered another round, as Zack pulled a shaking Aerith close.
"Goodbye, Hojo." Vincent murmured.
But Hojo just smiled and began chuckling, looking past all of them to what lay at the far end of the hallway.
"Indeed." He said, voice quivering with anticipation, and with a quick flick of his hand, pressed some sort of control panel hidden in the wall. All four of the chained doors that neighbored the elevator seemed to crack away from the wall, as the chains came undone and the locks that held them unfastened.
"Are you for f*cking real?" Cid shouted, pulling his long spear from its sheath on his back.
"Get to the elevator!" Vincent warned, turning his weapon away from Hojo to the closest of the doors—which, before anyone could react, flew open with a crash, as from it emerged a creature that walked on all fours, but which defied Zack's descriptions.
It looked like some awful form had been layered over the template of a human—it prowled forward on two thin front legs, with two stronger on the rear. Faceless but for two glowing red eyes, it was hunched over, an enormous mound of a back covered with pulsating muscle. At the same time, the other three doors opened and other monstrous creatures emerged—all equally horrific and indescribable.
Some walked on two legs, others slithered forward on a twisting, writhing, sickly-flesh colored tentacles that left watery trails along the pristine floor. Some were faceless, others held only the mocking imitation of a face—twisted beyond comparison, with gaping-wide, black mouths and empty eye sockets. Some wore a kind of twisted metal mask, others had pitiful, malformed wings erupting from their backs.
Zack froze, if only for a minute. What the hell was this place?
"Cid—get that elevator open!" Rinoa ordered, ripping off her helmet to see clearer and firing first at the closet monster—a dark shifting mass, that seemed to pulled itself forward out of the darkness in heaving movements.
"Imma given' it my godamndest!" Cid shouted, stabbing through a faceless, reedy form with multiple arms, "Zack?"
Nodding, holding Ifalna close in one arm and pulling Aerith with the other, Zack ran forward toward the elevator door, as Vincent and Rinoa cleared a path down the center of the diamond with their shots and cuts. Beside Cid kneeling beside the panel, Zack gently sat Aerith down and placed her mother up against her.
"You did your part, Aerith," he said, unsheathing the Tsurugi, "Not let us do ours, alright?"
Turning, Zack swept his great blade along and decapitated the first monster to charge at them, bleeding and wounded from multiple shots from Vincent. But before its crumpled visage even stained the floor, another beast was upon him—this one with two legs, and two arms, almost human. It even had long, silver hair that clung in clumps to its thin head. But its face was just a shrieking black hole, grasping for him.
Swinging up, Zack nearly caught it under the chin—but its thing, long-fingered hands caught his blade and held it back, unable to cut totally through that flesh, even if blood and black fluid leaked out around the blade.
Reaching out with his left hand, Zack continued to shove back, as he detached one of the Tsurugi's smaller blades, knife-sized in length, and plunged it into the side of the monster's empty head, dropping it down.
Shaking it from his blade, Zack turned to carve a slash up the back of another one, of similar kind, before its long and grasping arms could reach Cid's turned back. A bulbous and putrid pus emerged from the wound, nearly indistinguishable from the sickening sores that covered the creature.
It was then that he noticed other creatures that had emerged from those hellish doors—all the same, they were vaguely humanoid, but hunched, and covered only in draping black cloth that totally hid their forms. But these ones did not attack. They simply remained standing on the edges of the room and watched.
What the hell was this place?
Suddenly, Zack felt a burning needle in the back of his calf, which brought him down to one knee. He knew that feeling—someone had shot him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Hojo, crawled out in the midst of the floor with a trail of blood behind him, holding up his revolver and chortling.
Using the Tsurugi to push himself to his feet, Zack got ready to deflect another shot, but suddenly, it was Hojo's chest that burst with a brief shot and he collapsed over, choking. Zack knew that Vincent was, somewhere in this mess, quite satisfied with himself.
Grinding his teeth through the pain, Zack twisted back to cut at a tree-like form that lumbered at him—trunk-sized flesh twisting around each other as vague legs of some sort, as both shoulders branched out into large, bony appendages, with curved horns emerging from its back and a single, writing tentacle from its side. A head seemed to emerge, as if stretched, from its chest—mostly gnashing teeth and rows of lidless, red eyes.
Grunting as he lifted himself on his wounded leg, Zack quickly glanced to see Aerith—whispering quiet and calming encouragements to her terrified mother—as Cid crouched beside them, elbow deep in the paneling. The repeated sound of gunfire encouraged him that Rinoa and Vincent were still moving.
As the tentacle reached for him, Zack stumbled to the side, letting it crash down where he had stood and slicing out with the Tsurugi at the fleshy pillar, grinding his blade deep as the creature roared and swung its tentacle again.
Zack ducked beneath the swing and stabbed upward with his little knife, carving it from the tip to halfway down its widening length. A shot from either Vincent or Rinoa sent the monster stumbling back, even as from within its gushing tentacle, another four burst forth, catching Zack on his wounded leg and tossing him back to crash against the wall beside the elevator.
"Zack!" Aerith cried, only a few feet from him now.
Blinking back the dizziness, Zack grasped out for the Tsurugi beside him, even as the monster trudged closer and closer.
Through his spinning world, Zack heard Ifalna's fearful mumblings cease, replaced by a sudden clarity.
"You are my living legacy, Aerith. You will do wonders."
Suddenly, Ifalna's frail and tortured form was between them and the moaning creature. She waved one bony hand and, in its wake, a thousand little crystals of light, shimmering and transparent chimes, formed. Rolling her hands together, the arrow-shaped crystals exploded forward, in a burst that utterly eviscerated the hulking monster into a shredded, quivering heap.
If watching Ifalna stand was a shock, watching her decimate something like that was mindbreaking. Aerith was at his side now, whispering some hasty spell over his leg, while reaching for Ifalna, who still stood surveying the entire laboratory. Its pristine whiteness now was bursting forth with dripping, quivering, shuddering horrors of flesh and bone and more impossible things besides, around which Rinoa and Vincent glided and leapt in long-practiced grace—but even they were beginning to drown amidst the overflow.
For a brief slice of time, Ifalna turned back to them, and she appeared no longer as a half-sane, hobbled and broken woman, covered in tatters. Instead, her skin was ethereally healthy and radiant, and her clothes a dress of light. Her emerald eyes shown bright and kind, as a waterfall of full, brown hair, just like Aerith's, tumbled down her back. Light shined from her sad smile, as she spoke only briefly, "Take care of each other, okay?"
Neither Zack nor Aerith could respond, as Ifalna turned away and raised her arms. The glow that emanated from within her, which had clothed her, now expanding out beyond her in a brilliant flash that left Zack utterly blinded—but not without some strange, comforting warmth.
When the light faded, the monsters within a dozen feet had been reduced utterly to ash and beyond them, the rest stumbled about, screeching and writhing, all blind.
And Ifalna was gone; dissipated into the fading glitter of her own light.
Zack quickly turned to Aerith, who watched the final twinkles vanish into the air, with tears pouring down her cheeks. Zack, swallowing over his own, could only grab her hand.
It was Cid's exuberant shout, moments later, that returned them with hope to the awful reality before them, "Sh*t yeah! I got it!"
"Then let's get going." Rinoa shouted, stumbling across the diamond as best she could, with Vincent draped over her shoulder, "He's alive, but the light dropped him, too."
With new vigor, Zack pulled himself to his feet and, gathering the Tsurugi, quickly pulled Aerith up with him. The creature's rage had turned to awful, pained moans—perhaps they were recovering?
Piling Aerith in first, Zack turned back to check on Vincent and Rinoa—who now had another monster, feminine and sickly shade of blue, missing huge chunks from its torso, but with two great talons on each arm, bearing down upon them.
Just as Zack was about to charge forward, the whistling of Cid's spear flew past his ear and lodged itself firmly in what remained of the monster's chest, forcefully tossing it back.
"Thanks." Rinoa said, as she dragged Vincent, awake but breathing heavily, into the gravira elevator, and Zack jumped in behind them.
"'told Squall I'd take care'a ya." Cid muttered, closing up the rear and turning to the interior control panel.
"How sweet!" Rinoa gave a little smile and tousled Cid's hair.
But as Cid jerked away and began his final work, amidst the gurgling screams and tortured moans of what remained of those terrors, a single human voice could be made out—arising from the blood-soaked, laughing remains of a man in a white lab coat, who still lay in the center of his diamond laboratory, muttering to himself, to them, or to the world:
"She…will walk in your skin…"
And with that, the doors slid close, the elevator rose, and the noises became a distant rumble as silence reigned.
"Okay. So lemme just be the first to say it: that sh*t was f*****cked." Cid released hours of tension in a single gasp and collapsed, "Like, thirty-ways-from-Sunday f*cked."
Vincent coughed, able to stand with a bit of effort, "That's what Shinra is."
"Well, f*ck me, man." Cid shook his head, looking over to Aerith, who sat back against the far wall, head hung over her hands, "I'm…I'm really sorry, about your ma."
"She saved us all, Aerith." Rinoa nodded, stooping low to look up in her friend's eyes, "After all these years of the hell—she remembered you. She loved you. I could see it, from the first moment."
Aerith nodded, eyes downcast, as she rolled the little white and blue orb between her fingers. For his part, Zack simply rubbed her shoulders as they ascended—there was so much to say, to think, to process, to mourn…it was beyond words.
Slowly, the elevator came to a stop and opened on the same level they had entered from.
Hesitantly, the group stepped carefully out of the elevator. There, down that hall, was the door for their escape—just as planned.
"Man, this feels like we f*cking lost." Cid muttered quietly, as they moved quickly down the hall.
Zack and Rinoa looked at each other, unsure of how to respond. Had it all been for nothing?
"No." Aerith whispered, eyes red from tears, "No, we didn't."
Zack nodded. If that's how Aerith saw it, then that was how it was. None of them had gotten what they wanted—but maybe, Aerith had gotten something, someone, she needed.
Which reminded Zack—.
"Hey, what about Vincent's—"
Rinoa froze as he spoke and whipped around, to see that Vincent hadn't been following them. He was still in the elevator, looking down at the switch he held in his hand.
"Vincent—!" Rinoa started, and began to race back toward him.
"Go without me." Vincent murmured, as the elevator doors slid shut, racing upward, to the President's office.
"Damnit!" Rinoa muttered, slowing, "He's going to get himself killed."
Suddenly, the whole floor shook with an explosion—and then another. And another, getting more and more distant. The whole building seemed to quake, both above and below them, as piping came lose, spilling out steam and scalding liquid. The metal grates beneath them began to creak and sink, as the machinery that seemed built into the very structure of the building itself began to spark and crack.
"He's gonna get us all killed if we don't get out of here ASAP," Cid shouted, pulling Rinoa forward toward their escape—an urging that, after a moment of hesitation and another great quake—they all quickly followed, slipping away during the evacuation of Shinra, through a little water processing outlet, with no one sure at all about what they had seen.
Ienzo stood in the back of the office, behind where Xehanort sat scribbling at his desk. This was where he preferred to be, as his brothers argued.
"Ok, ok, so what the hell do we actually know?" Braig asked, rubbing his wounded leg. Though not how he told it, Braig had not fared well against Eraqus' apprentice.
"One, that the darkness in the Heartless correspond to both darkness in the heart and whatever lies behind that door," Even took it upon himself to respond, with the most disgusted of tones at having to do so, "Two, Xehanort experienced some connection with that force, some kind of 'greater heart,' that awoke something in him," this Even spoke with a disbelieving sarcasm, having confided recently with Ienzo that Xehanort was becoming an 'unreliable narrator'.
"And third, the Heartless have been multiplying since the attack—my hypothesis is that they are corresponding to the darkness found in the hearts of the Deepground terrorists." Even closed, "Dilan, how goes the culling?"
"Sufficiently." Dilan answered, from where he leaned against one of Xehanort's many bookshelves, "The machine to automate the process and slow the consolidation of darkness at the door is nearly complete."
"Could that process be reverse engineered?" Xehanort looked up from his notes.
Dilan paused, before nodding, "Theoretically, yes."
Even glanced to Ienzo with narrowed eyes, warning this was evidence of Xehanort's disturbance, "But only a fool would do so."
Xehanort did not respond, but only returned to his notes.
"Last, that brings us to you, Braig," Even sighed, "Tell us, is that new substance of any use?"
"Welp, it's definitely wonky space stuff." Braig said, trying on the same air of scientific authority as Even, "Very malleable. Great conduit. And plenty of it since that meteor shower. Honestly, 'wish we'd had that when we were fixing up the lab. Woulda made it a hell of a lot easier—"
Ienzo had to admit that as Braig began to speak, he mostly tuned him out. Ienzo had tested the meteor's remnants as soon as they fell and knew everything Braig (who had probably waited until last night) had to say, and even more besides. Instead, he found his eyes drifting down to what Xehanort was scrawling out in his perfect cursive:
"—But what do they mean to do with the heart of the world?"
And then, with that long hand, he signed it, as their Father had drilled into them of all their reports, to keep them organized amongst the six of them. But Xehanort did not sign it 'Xehanort'; nor even X, as he was wont to do as shorthand.
No, Xehanort signed in a new hand: 'Ansem'.
A slight frown tugged at Ienzo's mouth as he wondered what that could mean.
Meanwhile, Braig was still talking about how surprisingly far he had stretched the new material, when Xehanort suddenly interrupted.
"This has nothing to do with the Door. Even, I trust you have measured it by now?"
"Er, yes." Even nodded, as Braig shrugged, "Its energy levels are unstable; fluctuating. It's participating in, or causing, some sort of energy field. I theorize it's been phased into existence between two dimensions of—"
"It needs more power. It needs to be stabilized." Xehanort interrupted again, steepling his fingers, "Don't you think?"
"Perhaps." Even nodded, "But the kind of raw energy and precise magicks that would be required—we'd have to expand the laboratory a hundred-fold."
"I've thought about that." Xehanort responded, "Using the meteorite as a conduit, we can reroute the entire system throughout the Castle's existing design—from the basement, to the Grand Hall."
"W-what?" Even exclaimed, as Dilan raised an eyebrow, "You're talking about—"
"Making the entire Bastion into a living system to stabilize the door, yes."
Ienzo felt a smile coming on, "You must admit, Even, it is sensible. The Bastion could provide sufficient power, and the Grand Hall is the perfect staging area—it is the beating heart of all the essential systems, after all."
"Except how could we possibly keep that secret?" Even nearly shouted.
Braig chuckled, "Who cares? I love it!"
"We are simply upgrading the Castle as a precaution against Deepground." Xehanort answered smoothly, "The laborers won't even have to know what they're doing. Correct, Dilan?"
Dilan frowned, stroking his chin, "I have been speaking with Ansem about such improvements…"
"Fine, Xehanort, fine," Even sighed, "Have it your way. But riddle me this—even if we can stabilize the Door, how will that help us open it? Shall a key also then drop out of the sky?"
Suddenly, the PHS on Dilan's belt beeped wildly. After a moment of interpretation, Dilan marched forward and threw open the glass doors that led out to Xehanort's balcony. Confused, Even, Braig, and Ienzo quickly followed him. Something was wrong.
Only Xehanort stayed seated, drawing what seemed to Ienzo to be a design of how the power system would be routed—two loops, that circled up from the basement around the castle's edges, to meet a the highest parapets and fall together, to meet in a valley at the Grand Hall.
Out on the balcony, though all seemed calm, Dilan was quietly scanning the city
"For god's sake, Dilan, what is it?" Even cried.
"There's been an attack at Shinra." Dilan answered shortly.
"Oh, what the hell! I need a drink." Braig exclaimed, and ran for Xehanort's cabinet. Ienzo felt panic push up his heart rate just slightly. How could another happen this soon?
"Then why can't I see it!" Even exclaimed, scanning the city as well. All seemed well—normal, clear skies. Bubbling waters. Businesses and schools and houses and trains. No disturbance whatsoever.
"It must be on one of the basement levels." Dilan frowned, as more noises came across his PHS, "It seems to be under control by Shinra's security. No reports of any Deepground sightings."
Braig came wandering back out onto the balcony with a bottle and several cups, one of which Ienzo refused, though Dilan and Even happily took their own.
"If it's underground, it'll be easy enough to keep the people calm." Dilan took a sip, as he punched a few commands into his PHS to be sent to Ansem, "We'll keep it under wraps and work with Rufus to comprehend what occurred."
"That fool Hojo probably just blew himself up." Even scoffed, taking his own swig.
As Ienzo turned his eyes back from the city, he shrugged, "Perhaps father will be eager now for more upgrades to the Bastion."
"Heh, true enough!" Braig chuckled darkly, "Glad you to see you accepting the cynicism, kid."
"I need to go." Dilan downed the rest of his shot, and marched back inside, "Just in case this escalates to more than an industrial accident."
"The whole damn world might just be falling apart," Braig sighed, turning to drink straight from the bottle, and followed after him.
Ienzo lingered on the balcony, observing the whole of the Garden in its beauty. They would protect it from harm. Its salvation would come from this very room. No more risk for the PKF, or for Aeleus—they would, in understanding the darkness of the heart through Xehanort's work, be able to control it in the hearts of all people.
Suddenly, from within, a knock came at the door. Xehanort looked up from his writings and Dilan, about to exit himself, opened it.
"Masters," one of the servants bowed, "The three children of the late Master Eraqus are here to see you."
Dilan nodded woodenly, eyes slightly widened, "Very good. We'll be right down. You are dismissed."
The entire room sat frozen for precisely seven and half seconds, by Ienzo's count, before Braig, Dilan, and Even all began talking at once.
"Sh*t, d'ya think they know?"
"We need to be cautious."
"They found one of subjects in this castle—of course they know!"
Watching his brothers, Ienzo felt his pulse quicken again. It was the most reasonable thing to assume that the knights of the Keyblade had put some pieces together and were, at least, here to investigate. But was it possible they comprehended enough of it?
Did they hold enough authority to take action, even if they did?
Could the lost subject have found its way to them and told them enough?
Even worse, were they here to talk to Ansem?
Could this be it? Could it all be falling apart? Right here and now?
"Gods be cursed, it's all going to unravel!" Even swore, pacing back and forth across the room, "I always told you idiots—none of this was a good idea! We'll be tried and sentenced by father himself!"
Braig swug even deeper from the bottle, collapsing to his seat, "It's been a good ride, boys. We were close."
"We don't…" Dilan paused, brow narrowed, "We don't know what they know. There is no sense in panicking yet."
Ienzo couldn't tell if he was speaking more to them, or to himself. A genuine worry took him; his heart was now racing. Could it at all fall apart like this? Were the consequences literally knocking upon the door? Now, of all times, when they had come so far and were so close?
A sudden chuckle quieted all of them. Behind his desk, Xehanort was covering his mouth, muffling his laughter.
"At least he'll get off on lunacy!" Even cried, pounding his fist in frustration, as the other three watched Xehanort in confusion.
"Don't you get it, you arrogant halfwit?! They know!" Even shouted, spittle flying, "They're here because they know—about Shinra, about us, about the lab—everything! We're done!"
Xehanort, quieting his chuckling with a cough, now merely smiled.
Ienzo felt his pulse slow.
"It's perfect."