A past mistake is revealed; "Normal" deserves a tantrum;
Camp gossip; A fresh face and a new project;
Burned out shell; A surprise underground
Most desks and tables in the Shinra Tower were made of metal and glass, plastic, or clapboard. The conference table belonging to the Department of Administrative Research was made of real wood. Tapping a finger on the meeting table's surface produced a rhythmic soft but rich sound. When the last of the available Turks took their seats, Veld stilled his hand. He needed to reveal a mistake he'd made nineteen years ago.
Reno, impatient as ever, spoke before anyone else. "So, this about the chocobo terrorists or what?"
Some of the Turks sniggered, but most sent chastising glances at the rookie, Veld included. "We are not calling them by that ridiculous moniker. I'm also not certain I'd label them terrorists either."
"Oh?" Ruluf tilted his head. "What would-"
Alvis spoke over him. "Then what do you think they are?"
"A Science Department secret."
That doused any lingering amusement caused by Reno's childish nickname, his Turks refocusing. Veld smiled grimly. There was a diverse array of temperaments and skills among them, but each of them knew when it was time to be serious. He patted the stack of manila folders beside him - their combined reports. "They knew Reno by sight. When I first spoke with them, they deliberately warned me against Hojo, and they were so highly-skilled and well-equipped that even a SOLDIER 1st was outmaneuvered. We lost their trail and found it again at the Nibelheim reactor, the only publicly known Shinra facility in that region. Less well known is that it also served as a dumping ground for Hojo's experiments. The experiments there were destroyed, but there was no sign of forced entry. It's clear there is a talented hacker in their group."
He paused, wondering if now was the right moment to confess his error with Valentine. He'd checked the numbers he'd found in Nibelheim this morning against old Turk codes. Vincent's matched. He took a deep breath and continued, deciding to continue filling in the context first.
"They stayed at least one night in the town of Nibelheim, in the house of a local family named Strife. The child of that household greatly resembles the apparent leader of our targets. Alvis, Tseng, the two of you will go there to investigate possible connections. Here," he slid an envelope down the table, "is what we have on the town, its residents, and a cover story for you to use."
The two nodded, Tseng stone-faced and Alvis accepting the envelope with a slight grin. He was giving them a non-rigorous assignment, seeing as both were just now cleared of their injury duty.
"Hojo requested that the enhanced boy be given directly to him and the president has agreed. We will comply with this. However, I suspect that the boy is one of the professor's discarded projects.
"Emma, Rude, we need to learn if the professor has any other hidden projects that may pose a threat to Shinra. Look into what the professor was keeping at the Nibel reactor and the Shinra Manor lab - I believe these locations are closely connected to our targets. We do know that they destroyed at least one experiment vital to the SOLDIER program there.
He took a deep breath. He had to tell them. "I urge you to be discrete and cautious in your actions. Almost twenty years ago, my partner, a Turk by the name of Vincent Valentine, was reported missing and presumed dead. His last known location was the Nibelheim lab, assigned as security for the scientists working there, including Professor Hojo."
The faces of his Turks were solemn. The death of one of their own was not taken lightly.
"Vincent was amongst the most skilled members this department ever had. I never entirely believed he was dead, and in a vain hope that he would contact me, I never deactivated his code." A sentimental mistake.
Reno interrupted, green eyes narrowing. "That the code they're using to get into our system?"
Rude, wordless, reached over and whacked him on the back of the head as a reprimand for the intrusion.
Veld steeled himself for the next part, tasting bitterness on his tongue. "It is the code Vincent is using."
"The fuck?" Reno blurted. The others seemed to have much the same opinion. Balto, in particular, seemed struck by the notion, face paling. He was a rookie back then, but he was the only other member of the department to have known Vincent.
"When we encountered the targets outside Nibelheim, Vincent was with them." He had been different, enhanced, but unmistakable. All those years wondering, searching for him, and then he showed up like that. Why? Was this about revenge?
"We did not speak long."
"Vincent, you're… alive."
"He left with them."
"Are you working with these children?"
"…For now."
"But his disappearance -"
"Where have you been?"
"Atoning for my sins."
"- is linked to Hojo."
"You always did have a flair for the dramatic. What do you mean, sins?"
"…I failed to stop him. Failed to save her."
An easy guess who he meant. His partner had been head over heels for the scientist Lucrecia, who'd vanished only a few months after Vincent. Hojo had tried to destroy all records pertaining to his late wife, but Veld, certain she'd played a part in Vincent's disappearance, managed to save some, burying them deep behind miles of red tape and restricted access.
"From what I observed, he has almost certainly received enhancements, though they seem unlike a SOLDIER's."
There were low curses and murmurs around the table. Likely they were imagining what might have happened. Nearly all of them had seen what Hojo was capable of doing to a person.
After a moment he continued, "This group is apparently targeting Hojo and the Science Department. The most plausible scenario is that they are a skeleton from Hojo's closet. Another option is that they're the work of a rival faction in that Department trying to disrupt and discredit the professor." He personally was not as found of that scenario. The boy had been a match for Angeal. If another scientist could perform that kind of enhancement, why would they not go directly to the President with it? His gut instinct was that blame for the current situation lay with Hojo, but the evidence was still circumstantial.
Furthermore, the two cases - that of the terrorists and that of Vincent - seemed to lack any prior connections. "From our altercation, I believe Vincent only recently joined with them. He was not sighted with them at any point before Nibelheim and, unlike theirs, his equipment is standard level."
Emma rested her elbow on the table, propping her sharp chin on her hand. "Would it be safe to assume that if he stays with them his equipment will be upgraded?"
Veld nodded. "It has already proven dangerous to underestimate their level of preparedness." The mistakes Veld and the capture unit had already made could have proved fatal against other opponents. At the same time, they couldn't afford to be complacent. The group had avoided causing lethal damage, but if pushed too far, there was no guarantee that attitude would prevail.
"There is one more thing to look into concerning this group. Before they left, the smallest girl let slip that we are dying, and they are attempting to save us. From her words it seems it is already happening, poison or a slow disease or similar. It is also unsure to whom she was speaking. To all of us, to the SOLDIERs, or to SOLDIER 1st class Genesis in particular. I've had all the capture unit checked out by Medical. The last thing we need right now is an unknown illness spreading through the ranks."
Balto tugged on his greying forelock, his eyes fixed thoughtfully on the ceiling. "You believe them?"
"It's a simple precaution and if they are telling the truth, it establishes a motive." This was the one item that kept him from dismissing the theory of all this being caused by a rift in the Science Department. Who else would know of a sickness in the company ranks? The medical staff, perhaps, but they hadn't the resources to provide the high-level equipment used by the enemy.
"We still have more questions than answers concerning this group. That trend needs to be reversed."
"Yes, sir," Emma and Rude nodded. Investigating this group was their latest assignment.
"Next." Veld flipped through some files. "There is still the war. Freyra, new developments?"
"Death God managed to get through the navy's blockade and delivered a large shipment of black market weaponry to Wutai. He's been seen again on the battlefield there, still fighting alongside the Wutaians. Maur and Juget are trying to corner him. Sephiroth has gained us a lot of ground, but holding the line is proving difficult. Death God and Wutai's Crimson Elite show up wherever Sephiroth isn't, and their summoners have pushed us back in several places."
"I see. Balto, anything new here in Midgar?"
"There's unrest on the Midgar airbase that's spreading to the rest of that department. Mainly talk about Palmer embezzling, I have our man in Accounting looking into it." He hesitated slightly. "I have more pressing concerns about another board member… Reeve Tuesti."
"Reeve?" Mild and obedient, he was the last board member Veld thought they would need to investigate.
Balto coughed. "On multiple cameras we've caught him talking to a toy cat. He's also grown a backbone seemingly overnight. He's taken up the tradition from other board members of going over budget on unapproved projects. From the amount of supplies he's ordered and where he's sent them to, he must have multiple large-scale works about to begin."
"Right. Find out what he's working on and bring it to me. If his erratic behavior continues, send him to a psychiatric counseling session. As for the airbase, find where the rot started and cut it out."
Angeal walked down the grey hall to his quarters in the SOLDIER barracks. A pair of 2nds nodded as they passed and tinny guitar music played from an open doorway. Life at Shinra was normal. He could almost fool himself into thinking that the events of the last week were from a strange dream.
Only a few doors down from his room, he heard the click of a familiar pair of boots fast approaching. Sure enough, when he turned around he saw Genesis marching up to him, face darkened with a scowl. Angeal let out an inaudible sigh. He could guess what had set his friend off this time. Fishing out his keycard, he took the last steps to his door. Just as he reached it, Genesis slapped a sheet of paper against the metal surface.
"Normal," he seethed.
Angeal resisted the urge to roll his eyes. One would think that Genesis would be happy that their blood work and tests had come back clean and without issue, but the redhead seemed seconds away from a hissy fit.
"Genesis, hold on a moment and you can tell me all about it with the comfort of coffee and some food." An open hallway was not the place for the conversation they were about to have.
Truthfully, Angeal wasn't keen on letting anyone know that something might be wrong with their health. The SOLDIER program was still relatively young and while Shinra touted that the enhancement process was completely safe with no ill side effects on those who had been approved to undergo it, there were as of yet no old SOLDIERs to prove it in the long term. In a dark corner of his mind, he thought of the occasional SOLDIER candidate who passed the exam but then apparently get cold feet and never be seen again. He shook his head to dislodge that concern. He didn't try to pretend that the Science Department was staffed by saints, but Genesis's paranoia was excessive. His friend had spent the past few days while they waited for the lab tests to come back digging up every dark rumor about SOLDIER that he could find.
After putting the coffee on, he grabbed a platter and loaded it with sharp white cheddar, dumbapples sent from home, some just-beginning-to-wilt grapes, and a box of cheap crackers from the back of the pantry. He hesitated a moment, but figured why not, and pulled out a bar of dark chocolate. By the time he had it arranged on the platter, the coffee was ready.
Genesis was already coiled tensely on the couch. Angeal handed him a steaming mug, settled into an armchair, and built himself a tiny sandwich of crackers and cheese, then nodded for the other SOLDIER to start.
Genesis didn't waste a moment. "Normal, he says everything is normal." He took a vicious bite of apple and swallowed without hardly chewing. "That we're fine, but if that's the case, then why leave to run more tests?" He spat out the last word.
"He probably just wants to make sure. A second look is rarely a bad idea." His coffee was a little hot for his liking and he blew on it to cool it off.
"Since when does Hollander double check anything? The man is the epitome of lazy."
Angeal frowned. That wasn't true. Hollander was slow and methodical; he didn't rush things. It did no good to point that out to Genesis, however. His friend was impatient and quick to act, saw hesitation as a character flaw. It was odd, though, that Hollander had left the security of Midgar while there were enemies targeting the Science Department. Maybe he was fighting with Hojo again and had left for peace of mind. The two had a furious rivalry. If one stated simply that the sky was blue, the other would swiftly point out that it was actually clear and the blue merely light reflecting off the ocean.
Adding to the animosity was that Hollander, a friend of Angeal and Genesis' parents, had sponsored them into SOLDIER and still looked after them to see that they did well. And they were the only two who even came close to rivaling Hojo's "masterpiece" of a trophy son, Sephiroth.
"He's probably making sure that Hojo can't use these allegations against us, that's all."
"If that's the case, then why leave for some offsite facility? What can he do there that he can't do here? What is he hiding from us, Angeal?" The apple nibbled down to the core, Genesis flipped it over his shoulder into a trash bin and snagged some of the chocolate.
Angeal turned a cracker around with his fingertips, feeling the small square salt grains on one side, ordering his thoughts. The scientist might simply have left to get away from Genesis pestering him. He didn't dare say that, though, or he'd have to spend the whole afternoon soothing his friend's ruffled feathers instead of hopefully just an hour.
"We can't trust those kids not to lie to us. We don't know what their goals are. They could be trying to distract us with false worries, or trying to create a fake sense of empathy." He took a sip of coffee. "And on the off chance they are telling the truth, it might not be health problems they're talking about."
Genesis scoffed. "'The way we are dying'. That means it's happening now." He crunched through the last of the candy bar. "The wind sails over the water's surface. Quietly, but surely." Angeal motioned to a smear on his cheek and he wiped at it irritably.
A slow decay. It was an unsettling thought, but Angeal held fast to his conviction that they couldn't trust those kids. "Genesis," he started, but was interrupted by the trill of his PHS. He shifted a bit so he could get it out of his pocket while Genesis reached for another apple. Caller ID showed Sephiroth's name. Startled, he glanced over at his friend and mouthed who it was.
"Don't answer," Genesis hissed back.
Unintentionally keeping his voice low, as if Sephiroth could already hear what they were saying, he countered, "What if it's important?"
"He wouldn't be calling on a private line if it was."
That was true. If it was war business, he'd reach out through a more official channel. But… He shook his head, and with some trepidation and a quick prayer that this wasn't about their recent defeat, he answered. "Sephiroth, it's good to hear from you. Everything going well?"
"I am well and the war is progressing." Reception in Wutai was poor. His friend's voice was tinny and partly obscured by the crackle and pop of static. "I am more concerned about you and Genesis. There is this rumor going around camp."
His heart sunk and Genesis got up to pace behind the couch. Normally their friend didn't pay much attention to camp gossip.
"I'm sure it's been horribly mangled on its way to me, but it refers to you and Genesis having a rough time recently." Sephiroth spoke in a cautious tone that, from him, meant heavy concern. "Angeal, were you beaten in battle by a chocobo?"
An almost overwhelming sense of embarrassment landed heavy on him. His ears felt like they were engulfed in flame. Mustering his voice, he replied with dignity. "He was quite skilled with a blade."
There was an uncomfortable pause before Sephiroth spoke again. "I was unaware chocobos could use swords."
Genesis, who could easily hear both sides of the conversation, seemed to have gotten over his own embarrassment for the moment and was trying to muffle his laughter in a throw pillow snagged off the couch.
Angeal had to stammer out an explanation. "No… he… he's a swordsman. It's his hair. It looks like a chocobo's crest. I underestimated his skill and equipment."
"I see." His friend sounded relieved. "He must be quite the formidable opponent."
Angeal didn't have the courage to admit he was also a kid.
"The other half of the rumor is that Genesis was robbed twice in a week by the same pickpocket. Was that also distorted?"
Genesis dropped the pillow, all amusement at Angeal's plight gone. "Say no. Lie to him," he hissed from across the room.
Angeal covered the mouthpiece, confident the feedback would drown out his own whispers. "I'm not going to. Besides, he doesn't know their ages." Uncovering it, he responded, "Yes, unfortunately, that one is true."
"He must be rather inconsolable right now."
"He is." Across from him, Genesis was sulking, looking offended and betrayed at the same time.
"I can't stay on the line any longer, but look after him and make sure he doesn't do anything foolish."
"I will."
"Good." There was a click and the call ended.
As soon as he removed the PHS from his ear, a pillow hit him in the face.
Shinra construction crews moved fast. Angeal hadn't even left the sector when the pounding of pressure-hammers and nail-guns started reverberating off the steel and concrete around him. Urban Development wanted this section of the plate finished by this time next year, and as long as SOLDIER stayed on top of the monster infestations, they might meet that goal. Above the plate wasn't nearly as bad as below, but the flying monsters that nested along the cliffs to the west had seized the real estate opportunities provided by the towering steel struts.
Taking out a nest of ahriman was a 2nd Class mission, but the company typically gave 1sts who were recuperating from Wutai easy, local jobs. Things they could be recalled from quickly if need be. There were exceptions, of course, like the mission with those kids. Normally Angeal didn't mind the simple tasks; there was a pleasure, clean and simple, to be found in eliminating monsters instead of his fellow humans. But after that failed mission, he found himself growing restless. Monster missions didn't push him. Didn't help him improve.
In that fight, the blond boy had always been ahead of him. It hadn't mattered how much power Angeal put behind his strikes, the boy was already braced and ready to deflect the blows. Next time, and he knew there would be a next time, he'd need to be faster. Fast enough to catch the boy off guard.
As he stepped off the train in Sector Zero, he thought of heading to the SOLDIER's gym. There were treadmills there that could keep up with his enhanced speed, but they only went in a straight line and endurance running wasn't what he needed. Suicide drills had predictability and the VR rooms were out. Maintenance had forbidden any SOLDIER 1st from using the last working room after Genesis had destroyed two of the three. They'd get their access back once the others were repaired and reinforced. Again.
Maybe the communal track? If he went at his top speed and dodged around the other runners it would at least improve his reaction time.
The track was large, with no marked lanes, circling the army's training field. This afternoon, there was one squad of infantry running bunched together with full gear on, about twenty other troopers in regulation sweats, and less than a dozen SOLDIERs in their dark blue or purple uniforms weaving among them. On the hard-packed dirt of the center training field, infantry and cadets were drilling.
After two warm-up laps where a 2nd class fell in to run beside him, he put on the speed, pulling away from the other SOLDIER. While he ran, he went over the fight in his mind for what must have been the thousandth time. The only time he'd caught the boy off guard was when he'd tripped him. That pointed to the boy being an honest, straightforward fighter. Angeal wasn't truly comfortable with it, but he could ask Genesis for help with some more underhanded tactics if that was what it took.
After half an hour, one of the cadet classes came out to the track, adding more obstacles to his run. He was sweating, but not yet ready to call it quits.
Another thing that bothered him was the boy's sword. The Turks had reported him carrying a Buster-style weapon, but when Angeal had fought him, he'd had an oversized broadsword that transformed into a more complex blade. Which would he have at their next encounter? The transforming broadsword or the buster? How much would it matter? Did his style of fighting change? What Angeal did know was that a standard issue Shinra sword wouldn't last. He had the Buster Sword to use, but it was a symbol of his honor, something he couldn't risk or tarnish.
He was contemplating commissioning a more durable broadsword when a face flashed past him instead of the back of a helmet or a head. He blinked, momentarily disoriented, then realized he'd passed someone going backwards. Slowing as he circled back around the track, he paid more attention to the other runners, looking at them as something besides obstacles to dodge. Sure enough, one of the cadets was running backwards. Slowing further to keep him in view, he watched the animated youth encourage the panting, red-faced members of his squad to keep going, that they could do it. After all the dark thoughts and worries that had surrounding him recently, listening to the boy's enthusiastic chatter bolstered his resolve, even though it wasn't aimed at him.
"Fair!" the sergeant in charge of the cadets bellowed, and the boy jumped, stumbled and almost fell over. "Face faces forward, ass faces backward!"
The boy laughed sheepishly and offered one last word of encouragement before running correctly. Now that he was facing the right direction, it only took him a moment to reach the front of the pack of cadets. Angeal found himself smiling at the boy's antics. SOLDIER could use that sort of cheerful kindness in it's ranks. Maybe he could sponsor the boy for SOLDIER, similar to how Hollander sponsored him, and ensure that the boy got into the program.
He didn't know anything else about the boy, though. Giving him a fast track in could be a mistake, and now that the cadet program was proving successful, there were fewer openings for recruits brought in through sponsorships. Yet… he didn't want the drill sergeants to crush that enthusiasm. Maybe he could teach the boy as a mentor. There were at least two other 1sts who'd taken on students from the cadets, and the process was now being formalized, paperwork and everything. In his mind's eye, he could picture himself as a teacher… then an image of the blond boy staring at him across a broken blade flashed in his mind.
No. How could he consider himself suitable to teach someone after such a defeat? He jogged off the track. The cadet, Fair, was better off without him.
Three days later and the sense of inadequacy still clung heavily. Even when looking after his small collection of potted plants, watering and checking for pests, normally a restful activity, he couldn't shake the feeling.
"And Sephiroth thought I was the inconsolable one." Genesis had once again opted to lounge on Angeal's couch instead of his own. "You, my friend, need a hobby. And I'm not talking about picking aphids off your plants. You need something more, something that will truly capture your attention."
"Are you offering suggestions?"
"I would recommend literature," he gestured with the book in his hand, "but I already know it won't work." Angeal brushed his fingers over a fern and nodded. He didn't dislike reading, he just disliked sitting still and feeling unproductive. Even paperwork was better. "No, it's something you'll need to find for yourself."
He thought about it the rest of the day - something to do besides missions, training and gardening. No matter how busy he kept himself, his defeat by the blonde boy presided in his thoughts. A small voice in his mind brought up that if he mentored that cadet, he'd be too busy with the boy's missions and training to worry about the terrorist.
Morning found him standing in front of Genesis's door. A tray stacked with buttered pancakes, sausage, and ham in one hand, and an earthen jug of maple syrup imported from the Northern Continent in the other.
His friend opened the door, bleary-eyed and clad only in red silk sleep pants. "I thought I smelled breakfast. What's the occasion?"
Angeal handed the tray over. "I was thinking about what you said yesterday, about a new hobby."
"Hm-hmm." Genesis put the platter down on a counter and made them each a cup of espresso while Angeal set plates and utensils on the small table. "And what did you decide?"
Angel stabbed six of the fluffy pancakes onto his plate and sat. "Well, the other day I saw this cadet, and I was thinking of possibly taking him on as a protege."
Moving five pancakes to his own plate, Genesis topped them with sliced strawberries from the tiny industrial fridge. "If that's what it takes to get you to stop moping, I'm in favor."
"I haven't been moping."
"Brooding, then." He passed the bowl of sliced berries over.
Angeal accepted them, drenching the cakes in red fruit and cutting off another huge slice. He chewed in silence for a minute, trying to appreciate the good food. "What if I'm no good at it? Teaching, I mean. I was beaten so easily."
His friend arched an eyebrow. "There are weaker, less skilled individuals teaching others as we speak. The drill sergeants, for instance. Whoever you pick to take under your wing, you'll be doing them a favor."
"Do you really think so?"
Genesis rolled his eyes. "Angeal, after breakfast, go file the paperwork and pick out a student. I don't want to see you again until you have some cadet following at your heels."
Angeal drank some espresso, feeling glad for his friendship with Genesis. Uneven as it may seem to outsiders, it was a mutual give-and-take. He talked Genesis through his tantrums, and in return, the redhead prodded him from thought to action.
"Thank you, Genesis."
"Of course."
Despite his good intentions, a mission out in Kalm delayed him for several hours. On his return, before his doubts could come back, he went directly to the military personnel office. He filled out the proper paperwork and had just put his signature down to mentor one Zack Fair, age 14, when his PHS rang. "Angeal Hewley," he answered.
"Angeal, report to helipad 3. A Shinra lab in Banora has just been attacked. There are numerous casualties. We believe it to be the chocobo terrorists."
His stomach dropped. So much for them not killing. He prayed the town's civilians, his mother, were alright. He grabbed his gear and ran, the application for mentorship forgotten on the table.
The Gelnika, retrofitted to carry personnel instead of bombs, was crowded with six SOLDIERs and their equipment. Its sister plane, occasionally visible through the front window, was worse off, carrying a full squad of troopers squashed into its belly. In such close confines, the odor of so many bodies was repulsive to Genesis's SOLDIER 1st senses. (He glared across at a snoozing Angeal, who had come straight from a mission and smelled like it.) He was running out of ways to distract himself from his discomfort. Even with a lengthy nap in between, he'd finished both the books he brought. He hated flying across multiple time zones.
A strike team from Junon had already landed in Banora but lost contact immediately after. The only information received from them was a confirmation that it was indeed the teenaged terrorists. Now those brats were likely long gone. To make matters worse, once again they had to reassess what they thought they knew about the group. According to the initial brief call informing them of the attack, there were casualties in the lab. Was Hollander one of those? While he disliked the man, he was useful.
What had changed that the children were now willing to kill? Or were these their true colors revealed? He rolled a Death materia in his hand grimly. Shinra could not afford for these enemies to continue unchecked. He could not afford it.
A shift in cabin pressure told him they were landing. Finally. He re-equipped the green crystal, slotting it next to a Death Blade materia. Seventeen hours was much too long to be stuck in such close confines.
The hull door lowered and a wind kicked up by the rotors rushed into the stale space, carrying the sweet scent of apple blossoms, the sour tang of mako fuel, and a fainter acrid scent of ash. The company poured out into the early morning sunlight, and Genesis saw several locals come running to meet them. He didn't pay them much mind, striding across the town square toward the road that ran to the warehouse. A faint smudge of black smoke still colored the pale azure sky over the sunken valley it sat in. How many times as a child had he played on the cliffs above that building and never realized it was a hidden lab? No wonder Hollander had spent so much time in Banora.
Rounding the last curve of the granite-hemmed road, he checked and stared at the sheer destruction before him. In Nibelheim they had been discreet in their demolition, but it seemed they no longer cared about that. Bricks lay strewn and blackened across the ground, if they had not been crushed into powder. Metal beams were twisted, dented, sheared; glass panes melted and gone. The air was foul, chemical-scented, overlaid sickeningly with the sweet smell of burnt dumbapple wood. Even the surrounding cliffs had tumbled down, burying much of the wreckage. The whole thing clinked and chinked as it settled, and a distant muffled whoosh, audible only to a SOLDIER, indicated that fires were still burning underground.
Behind him, Angeal gave orders to comb through the wreckage. Genesis snorted and stalked forward. They weren't going to find anything in this slag. Whatever had been here was now incinerated. Hollander's funeral pyre.
His gaze tracked Angeal as the man bent to look at a dark stain spreading out from under a pepper-grey boulder nearly the size of the Gelnika plane. Angeal rubbed his gloved fingers through it and came back to stand beside him, somber-faced. The greasy dirt on his hand smelled like engine oil. Genesis looked again at the base of the boulder and saw the twinkle of smashed metal and glass among the smaller stones, and the rim of a black rubber tire. Local ports had been warned to keep an eye out for the group, but the initial plan was to send some of the troopers from the other Gelnika to bolster the port authorities. That plan was no longer feasible: the jeeps they would have gone in were buried by the landslide.
"Genesis, Angeal, you may wish to listen to this," Veld called from a group of civilians, the faces familiar from his childhood, bottlenecked at the end of the road where Genesis had halted before. There were the thin innkeeper and her son, the portly mercantile proprietor, members of different farm families. They looked as though they'd had a sleepless night, puffy-eyed, clothes smudged with ash. Angeal promptly went to stand beside his mother, concern for her written all over his face. Mrs. Hewley's hands were black with soot, and she was wearing heavy dark boots instead of her usual open sandals. Directly next to Veld, slightly apart from the others, were Genesis's own parents. They were dressed immaculately, his mother in a white lace morning gown, his father in a pale suit and waistcoat. They weren't looking at him, but at the remains of the warehouse, and he couldn't place their expressions. But he'd never been able to, really. He carefully tailored his trajectory away from them, avoiding them without being so tacky as to look like he was doing so.
Veld was proceeding with the questioning. "Mr. Dabney, you said you saw a flash of lightning."
The proprietor nodded. "That's right, I'd just finished my evening smoke when this giant bolt came down out of the clear sky! First I thought it might be a SOLDIER fighting off some monster or other."
A young farmhand spoke up, "Stronger than any Bolt spell I've seen. Rattled the windows." Genesis remembered his voice vaguely from schoolyard afternoons.
The innkeep next. "Whited them out, you mean. I couldn't see a thing afterwards. Thought I'd gone blind!"
A torrent of voices, tumbling over each other, all eager to relate their stories:
"And there was the fireball!"
"That's right, the whole sky was orange."
"I still thought it was a SOLDIER fighting something, 'cause there was this huge bellow. Like a grand horn."
"You've never heard a grand horn."
"It sounded like what I imagine a grand horn sounds like."
"There was an earthquake, too. Knocked over some of the palms."
"A bunch of dishes fell off my wall!"
"Well, I started running over to give that SOLDIER or whoever a piece of my mind for startling the whole town like that, but when I got over here, I saw the warehouse was destroyed. It was still burning in places, and I knew if the wind kicked up it'd spread to town. So I ran back and rung the fire bell."
"I was already ringing it."
"And I took over!"
The innkeeper's son spoke up softly, as timid as Genesis remembered. "We worked all night getting all the hot spots out, never found any bodies." He wrung his hands, a nervous habit Genesis had always despised. "I know you had a crew moving stuff into the place. Will you be collecting their belongings at the inn?"
"We'll send someone. What time did all of this happen?" Veld was not going to be distracted.
"About quarter after eight, I'd say." The innkeep again.
That was several hours after they had gotten the call from the warehouse, but not very long after they lost contact with the strike team. What could the terrorists have been doing, lingering like that? Were they, perhaps, still lingering? Were they nearby? His fingers itched, wanting to finish this nonsense.
Veld looked at him. "Genesis, it has to have been materia, right?"
He considered. "They certainly could have used multiple materia: Bolt, Fire, Quake. The bellow, though…. Was there a pause between the lightning strike and the fireball? And the quake? Or were they cast at the same time?"
The villagers conferred - "Maybe, no, yes, the gap was this long, that happened next!". The innkeeper's mouth had dropped open slightly as she thought, and some of the farmers were actually counting on their fingers. So provincial, Genesis mused. He was remarkably lucky really, that he'd gone into SOLDIER, to cultured, cosmopolitan Midgar. All the same, the wind blowing down the canyon carried the scent of apples and apple blossom, and the voices around him were the voices of his boyhood, when he'd dreamed of growing Banora White apples and sharing them with the world.
And beside him was a smoking ruin. Nevermind the lab underneath it, the merchant had been right - if the wind had caught it the wrong way, the fire from the warehouse could have destroyed the town too.
The group consensus was that there had been a multi-second pause between the lightning and the fire and a slightly longer one between the fire and the earthquake. A chill went through him as he considered the order and the timing. Either the terrorists were putting on a terrific ruse, or...
"Genesis?" Angeal prompted.
"When the war of the beasts brings about the world's end…" He sighed. "Kujata, an absurdly rare summon."
Veld's stone face didn't change at all while Angeal's brows furrowed further. His friend needed to be careful, or someday his face was going stick like that.
That was only a surface level thought. Below, he was shrieking with envy. He knew they had a Bahamut, a Shiva, and an Ifrit. All common summons, as far as any summon could be called common. He'd only ever read of the demon bull. He didn't even know of any extant materia for it. Inwardly, he cursed the group. Where had they gotten all of their items? Had that little kleptomaniac stolen all of it for them?
"Sirs!" One of the troopers called out, waving them over.
"Oh! They found the box." That was the innkeep.
"Box?"
"We thought it might be a bomb, so no one's touched it."
And they couldn't have mentioned it sooner?! "Then stay back," he ordered. He could see his father, silent until now, bristle at being given directions. He continued before the man could argue with him. "You civilians," he stared the man down, "will be in our way."
"If it is a bomb, you will also be the most at risk. Return to your homes and we'll let you know when it's safe." Angeal added, gently pressuring the crowd away, smiling reassuringly at his mother as she left. She smiled back, and took the innkeep's arm in her own, persuading her away.
Genesis called for the troopers to secure the perimeter. He joined Veld and the 2nds standing next to the box. A wooden crate, actually, the sort used for storing apples. TURKS was scrawled across the side in large bold letters.
"They seem to have left you a present, Veld."
The man in question stared at it. "Can you hear any type of device inside it?"
"All is silent."
"Hmm. Everyone stand back." Angeal came to stand beside them, and Veld turned to him. "Angeal, if you would do the honors."
Genesis turned on his heel and stalked off. That had been a deliberate snub by the Turk. They all knew he was faster than Angeal, more capable of getting out of the way if it was an incendiary, but Angeal was more trusted by the Turks. Whatever dirty secret that box might hold, Veld preferred if Angeal knew it over him.
He stopped only about a hundred feet back while the 2nds and Turk went further. "Well, get on with it," he snapped waspishly.
Angeal gave him a dry look, but stooped to open it. The wooden lid, edged with metal, came off slowly. After a moment of startled surprise, his friend picked the box up and carried it over. "Genesis, you brought an esuna?"
"Yes." And why would he need it?
Meeting Angeal halfway, he looked into the box. Small figures, easily mistaken for toys from Shinra's action figure line, were jumbled together in a heap at the bottom.
"No scientists," he hummed, counting seventeen individual figures. His eyes picked out the dull blue of trooper uniforms, a gray pilot, the dark blue of SOLDIER 3rds and the purple of a 2nd. The strike team leader, no doubt. Junon might as well have sent a litter of guardhound puppies for all the effectiveness this lot had had.
Veld came up alongside them and peered in. "At least we have witnesses now." He turned to the troopers. "Take them out and face them towards the back cliff. We don't need them shooting anyone when they come to. Extra space around the SOLDIERs." They could try forcing the miniature guns out of the troopers' hands, but that risked breaking the weapons or the men's bones. Of the SOLDIERs, only the 2nd class had managed to grab his weapon, and they left the regulation sword in his frozen grasp. One 3rd, the only one Genesis saw as not completely useless, was frozen shouting into a radio. For, the rest they removed the swords from their magnetic harnesses, placing them gently on the ground behind the doll-like figures. Hard to grab while disoriented, but close enough to be in the radius of the restorative spell.
As Genesis watched the SOLDIERs and troopers comply with Veld's orders, he noticed those who hadn't been on the last mission laughed at the shrunken men, but those who had treated the affected gently, doubtless remembering their own misadventure. Once all were lined up with adequate space between them he began to restore each one in turn, the SOLDIERs first.
The one with the radio came to yelling into the device, while a report of gunfire generally followed each cast as the troopers were restored to time and size. The 2nd classes who'd come with the Gelnika quickly grabbed the guns away as the troopers' minds caught up to their current situation. Those restored looked around in confusion - the morning light flowing finally over the canyon lip very different from the late afternoon sun they must last remember.
The proceedings afterwards were boring: debriefing, interrogation, fending off curious locals. All tiring affairs. A quick word to Angeal, saying he was going to try finding their tracks, and he slipped away from the commotion. Walking along the dirt paths, under the curving arches of the Banora Whites, eyes scanning for small footprints and chocobo tracks, not to mention that motorcycle, he reflected on the oddness of the strange group showing up in his hometown.
They had started off on this island, hadn't they? Why come back here now? Because Hollander had? Were they trying to stop Genesis from getting answer, to confuse or delay his progress? If he and Angeal really were sick, Hollander had been the best bet inside Shinra for curing them. Now that he was gone… were they thinking Genesis would have to turn to them for help? That he would join them?
The idea was nauseating. He was a Shinra SOLDIER and he took pride in that. Perhaps not as much as Angeal, but it was there. Allying himself with murderous children was never going to happen. That blonde brat was not going to boss him around and the little thief would burn before he trusted them.
As for tracks, there were none, not that he was surprised. They had picked up an ex-Turk, after all. A non-SOLDIER, an ex-Turk, and a ninja. What an odd collection of individuals. What of the other two? The martial artist, the brown-haired boy? What secrets and hidden skills did they possess? If they were to catch this group, they would need to understand more about them.
They had known about the lab; he hadn't. They showed interest in him and Angeal, they had some tie to this town that had caused them to start here and then return here. Would they know about the Underground?
As a child, he had explored the caves and old mines that snaked under the hills. An Enemy Away materia had turned the dangerous area into his own secret dominion. He knew Shinra at one point had been interested in the area too, having found many areas marked by the company's hand.
As a child, he had not been able to explore the full extent of the tunnel network. Had Shinra left anything of importance down there after sealing it off, and if so, did the terrorists know?
It wouldn't hurt to look.
The quiet valley that sheltered the split in the rock was as peaceful as he remembered. The last time he'd been here was right before he'd left with Angeal for Midgar, six years ago. Goddess, had it really been that long? He paused near the entrance. The grass was bent, and there were depressions in the soft earth. Fresh tracks overlying those that were likely a few hours older. Had they spent the night in the caves?
He should call for back-up, but the tracks indicated that they'd left. Also, this was his place, a private space from his childhood, and he didn't want all the enlisted men trampling through it. He had left some rather personal things down here after all.
Entering the familiar corridors of dark stone, turning around to orient himself, his boot hit something resting close to the entrance. A plastic lantern, dull with a thick layer of dust, and mostly hidden under the dried leaves and grass that had blown in over many years. The shape was familiar - he'd relied on that light once, but his keener eyesight no longer needed it. Navigating through the different passages and chambers, he found the local monster population was heavily depleted from what he remembered. A shame, really. He'd wanted to finally fight the creatures he'd run and hidden from as a child.
One thing that stood out was that once in the caves the targets had grown much less careful about erasing their presence. Even in the dimness, he could pick out the tracks left behind in the soft soil. Honestly, who would take chocobos and a motorcycle through a cave system? He followed the tracks through the winding tunnels lower and lower into the caverns. Thankfully, they led away from the chambers he had turned into his secret base long ago.
Eventually, he came to the shallow lake, where the light of the ambient mako crystals reflected off the water, causing the whole room to glitter. A breathtaking sight, usually, but that was not what caught and held his attention this time. On the far side of the chamber sat a massive machine, lurking like a behemoth in the shadows.
That had not been here before. Curiously, and with some degree of caution, he approached the construct. It appeared to be an airship, though unlike any he'd seen. Who would have built such a thing underground though? But what else could it be, with those propellers and that general shape?
He circled the machine once, intrigued, though it seemed locked up and abandoned. The tracks, fainter on the washed stone, led directly to it. He fetched his PHS from his pocket. Shinra's service was spotty when underground, but thankfully he had one bar of signal. "Angeal, I found something interesting down here. I'm sure the Turk will want to see it."
Veld had been to the Banora Underground twice before. Once as a rookie when it had been an operational mine, proposed reactor location, and black site, then later in the early 70's when the company had abandoned the place, his job to ensure nothing confidential was left behind. All this meaning that in the last twenty years or so, someone had built what appeared to be a state-of-the-art airship down here, in a location they would never be able to retrieve it from. And it was connected to their targets, because of course it was. Nothing about this group could make any damned sense.
No matter how much he wanted to find a way into the strange craft, he knew his duty was to catch the targets before they did any more damage. The tracks Genesis had found established that the targets had only a few hours lead on them and they couldn't afford it to stretch longer. The SOLDIERs he'd brought would track the group on foot while the ones from Junon would guard the ship in case the targets came back. Under no circumstance were they to engage, just report back what they saw. That left the troopers free to be airlifted to all ports on the island. Those kids wouldn't be able to make it off the island without them knowing.
To get anywhere, they had to take a ship. At sea they would be vulnerable, or at any rate, more vulnerable than on land. If necessary, Veld could simply have their ship sunk, though this would be his last resort. He still hoped to get answers out of them, particularly Valentine.
Before he boarded his own transport he made a quick call to Scarlet. Truthfully, Air and Space would be better suited to deal with this, but the unrest in that department made him leery of adding more pressure to their situation. Besides, the heavy machinery of the Weapons Department would have an easier time digging the ship out. If they couldn't take the kids head on, they could at least start cutting off their escape routes and eroding their base.
*Notes
Hey, hey, we're back! A general lack of motivation made this chapter a real ordeal, but please don't worry about us ever actually abandoning this - it goes against our grain. We procrastinate, but we finish.
A clarifying note that we wouldn't include if we'd updated this on schedule, but since it's been so long: Angeal was able to trip Cloud in their last fight because Cloud thought of Angeal as an honorable fighter. Now, it's flipped. Angeal thinks of Cloud as a honorable fighter, and we all know that's not true.
If you're wondering where the Vincents are during those last scenes by the airship, they're aboard the Shera but are just hiding out for the moment. One of them may be level 99, but the other isn't and they'd be going up against two 1st Classes, two units of 2nd and 3rd Classes, a full battle unit of troopers and one guard squad of troopers, plus one Turk. Not good odds.