XII
CHAPTER XII
A NEW KING
"He…he's dead…" stammered Barret, his voice distant. "The leader of the Shinra, Inc. is…dead…"
Cloud stumbled forwards, summoned to the desk at the heart of the Great Hall by an invisible force. Unable to take his eyes from the unmoving figure of the President, he made no attempt to stop Tifa as she brushed past him, and began cautiously towards the centre of the vast room. Slowly encircling the polished marble face of the workspace, she loomed over his swollen body in a wary but assured manner, his face pressed against the desk. It was not the array of reports scattered across the ground at his feet, nor the pool of blood forming at the base of his spine where the sword wound had been so fatal, that had drawn Tifa. Her troubled eyes passed over the curving blade as it rose from his back, analysing its shape. Stretching almost six feet in length, the katana was as elegant in design as it was powerful, with a slim handle bound in black leather and decorated in gold studs.
"I…I know this sword…" she gasped, retreating with fear.
"It's the Masamune," confirmed Cloud, his worst nightmare becoming reality. "It belongs to Sephiroth."
"Sephiroth is alive?" squeaked Tifa, holding a hand to her trembling lips.
"Looks like it," Cloud said, breathing heavily, unable to take his stare from the weapon. "Only he can use that sword."
"Who cares who did it?" boomed Barret triumphantly. "This could be the end of the Shinra."
"That's not what we should be concerned about right now…"
Cloud spun sharply to his left as he was snatched from his trance by the noise, shifting his hold on the Buster Sword into an attacking stance in the same motion. It seemed Barret had also detected the faint scraping, his gun-arm jerkily starting to rotate as he targeted the grid of pillars along the western wall. Slipping without sound across the room, Cloud backed against the nearest column, listening intently. Peering out from his position, there came rash, hurried footsteps, and a flash of brown scurrying parallel to where he waited. Lunging out, Cloud thrust his knee into the obese stomach of the man and, hauling him back to where the others gathered, he threw him to the ground.
"P…please don't kill me," whimpered Palmer as he wriggled with pain on the floor, holding his hands out in surrender. Beneath his wisps of thinning grey hair, the Director of Space Exploration's head shimmered with trickling sweat, his frightened eyes filling with tears.
"What happened here?" demanded Cloud.
"Se…Sephiroth…" cried Palmer. "Sephiroth came…"
"You saw him?" exclaimed Cloud. "You saw Sephiroth?"
"With my own two eyes!"
"Are you sure?"
"Would I lie to you at a time like this?" blurted Palmer. "I heard his voice, too."
"What did he say?" Cloud frowned.
"I'm not sure," Palmer mumbled. "It was something about not letting Shinra get their hands on the Promised Land."
"Does that mean the Promised Land really exists?" Tifa speculated, gazing questioningly at Cloud. "Is Sephiroth here to save it from the Shinra?"
"So he's a good guy, then?" asked Barret.
"Save the Promised Land? A good guy?" Cloud answered broodingly. "Not a chance. It won't be that simple…not for Sephiroth. I know him: his mission will be different…"
As he spoke, a deafening flutter began to build from beyond the windows. His brows furrowing, Cloud glanced up to see a helicopter rapidly advancing on the tower, its nose rearing back as it drew near. It circled the Presidential Office as it reduced its speed, finally coming to rest on the helipad extending from the northern side of the Headquarters. With the group momentarily mesmerised by the flight of the craft, Palmer scrambled to his feet, dashing across the hall towards the single doorway to the helipad. Outside, a young man in a long white coat stepped from the B1-β helicopter onto the platform, his wavy hair blowing furiously in the gust, a bemused expression spreading over his leering face as he spotted Palmer.
"Shit!" swore Barret. "I forgot about him."
"Who is it?" asked Aerith.
"Rufus Shinra," Barret replied, "the President's son. Vice President of Shinra an' heir to its power."
"I've never heard of him before," said Aerith, puzzled. "I didn't even know the President had a son."
"He's pretty low key…a real enigma," Barret shook his head. "I s'pose it's for security reasons. He caused a lotta trouble for the company a few years back, an' rumour had it he'd been assigned a secret task somewhere else for a long time. He's a tough customer…heard nobody's ever seen him bleed or cry."
"I want to meet this guy," Cloud declared, striding towards the helipad, slotting his greatsword back onto its holder.
"What?" spluttered Barret. "Why?"
"Maybe we ought to show him our respect."
The sky was becoming slightly less overcast as Cloud stormed out onto the stone balcony, but the chilly winter air still penetrated his thin poloneck. The streets of the distressed city could be seen for miles over the low wall that led to the helipad, separated by the illuminated intersecting highways and railway lines. Few transport vehicles were in motion at this hour, many of Midgar's inhabitants still mourning the loss of Sector7.
Looking ahead, Cloud saw Palmer had escaped to the rear of the helicopter, peeking timidly out from his seat as the party approached the Vice President. Rufus Shinra was a man in his mid-twenties, but his dark eyes bore wisdom beyond his age. His hair was golden in colour, seeming less synthetic than his father's had, and was combed to one side. He was slim in stature, his appearance broadened by the jacket he wore over his white suit, but was less than six feet in height. Casually slotting the shotgun he carried into its holster on his belt, he stared without intimidation as the five lined up before him, crossing his arms impatiently over his chest.
"And who are you?" he chuckled derisively, his voice loud over the din of the helicopter blades.
"I'm formerly of SOLDIER," Cloud answered sternly.
"Really?" Rufus offered a mock salute. "What rank?"
"First."
"How very interesting," Rufus nodded, rolling his eyes. "And what about the rest of you?"
"We're from AVALANCHE," growled Barret.
"AVALANCHE?" snorted Rufus. "You mean you're that insignificant group that named yourselves after the rebel faction? Despite his eventual madness, you have quite a nerve comparing yourselves to the intellectual brilliance of Fuhito. How pathetic."
"Just who the hell d'ya think you are?" bellowed Barret.
"Rufus Shinra," he replied with a sly smile, brushing the hair from his face, "the President of Shinra, Inc."
"You're only President 'cause o' what Sephiroth did to your old man," snarled Barret.
"True," Rufus shrugged without remorse. "So, Sephiroth was actually here? What a pity."
"Don't you even care that your father has been murdered?" asked Tifa with disgust.
"After what he did to me?" laughed Rufus as he began to pace the platform before the party. "I don't think so. 'Old man', as you so delightfully put it, has been keeping a few secrets from the public for many years now, and even certain members of the Executive. Especially when it came to my whereabouts…worried that I would undermine him. Daddy was very bad. He tried to control the world with lies and money, and it seems to have been working. The population thought Shinra would protect them. Work at Shinra, get your pay, and if terrorists attack, the Shinra Army will help you. It was perfect on the outside...but, not for me.
"Ever since I was made Corporate Officer, I have been sickened by the naïve way in which my father ran things. I've longed for this day; the day where I get to do things differently. I'll control the world with fear. A little fear will manipulate the minds of the common people. There is no need to waste money on them."
"It appears he likes to make speeches," Tifa sneered. "Just like his father."
"Unfortunately, some things are hereditary," Rufus responded, unfazed, "such as my hatred for Slum lowlifes like yourselves."
"Why, you little punk!" spat Barret, aiming his gun-arm at him.
"Barret, wait!" shouted Cloud.
"You heard what he said! I'm gonna blow the piece o' shit to hell!"
"Now's not the time," said Cloud, standing in front of the spinning barrels. "You have to get Aerith out of here."
"Huh?" stammered Barret, startled by the command.
"I'll explain later," urged Cloud, gesturing towards the door. "The Planet's crisis is much more serious than you think."
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"
"Don't argue with me!" he said forcefully. "Just make sure you and the others get out of the building as quickly as possible."
"But, what 'bout you?"
"I'll take care of Rufus. Now, go!"
Reluctantly, Barret began to retreat from the helipad, his arm still trained on the new President. Cloud ushered the others after him, his resolute glare pushing them through the entrance to the Great Hall. It took a number of seconds for the four to disappear from sight, their anxious voices diminishing as the door slammed shut behind them. Cloud turned to meet the cold gaze of Rufus Shinra, wrapping his fingers around the handle of the Buster Sword and heaving it from its slot, holding it out before him. Almost a minute elapsed before either of them spoke.
"Tell me, soldier," asked Rufus eventually, "what is your name?"
"Cloud Strife."
"Have we met before?"
"I doubt it."
"Strange," Rufus frowned. "Your face seems familiar to me…I'm sure I've seen it somewhere before."
"What difference does it make?"
"None, I suppose," Rufus gave an absent wave. "I was just trying to understand why you want to fight me."
"Your company seeks the Promised Land," explained Cloud. "I won't let either you or Sephiroth have it."
"Why not Sephiroth?"
"A lot has happened. I have my reasons."
"Did you know he is an Ancient?"
"What's your point?"
"Surely he's entitled to the Promised Land?"
"It doesn't matter," growled Cloud, raising his sword. "He'll never get his hands on it. And neither will you!"
"I guess this means you and I won't become friends," Rufus sighed sardonically.
"Don't count on it."
"Then, that's enough for today."
Time seemed to freeze as Rufus snatched the shotgun from his belt, pointing its twin barrels at Cloud's head with the swiftest of movements. Reacting instinctively as he pulled the trigger, Cloud blocked the shots, hearing the sharp twang as the pellets ricocheted against the steel alloy blade of the Buster Sword. He glanced up as he heard the pounding of footsteps to see Rufus sprinting across the helipad, the tails of his coat flapping wildly behind him, determined to escape the former SOLDIER.
Diving onto the floor of the helicopter, the President barked orders at the Turk pilot to begin her ascent. Cloud charged towards the climbing helicopter, springing high into the air, slashing in vain at its underside as it soared beyond his reach. He watched in frustration while Rufus grinned at him from the open doorway of his flight until it had disappeared over the tower.
Shouldering the Buster Sword as he listened to the hissing whir of the propellers fade into the distance, he started hastily back to the Presidential Office. He passed through the single doorway and crossed the room without hesitation, pausing only as he reached the northern stairwell. With a fleeting glimpse, Cloud looked upon the body of President Shinra for the final time, wondering how a man of such power had been reduced to nothing more than a humble mortal. Thinking of it no more, he raced down the steps, and was surprised to find Tifa at their base.
"Are you alright?" she asked. "Where's Rufus?"
"He got away," replied Cloud as he stormed past her, grabbing her wrist. "Looks like this is going to get complicated…"
Aerith felt her stomach lurch as the external express elevator plummeted to the ground floor, filling her with the dread of nausea. Other than its linoleum floor, the cylindrical lift had been assembled entirely with square panels of spotless glass, designed to display to staff of the Executive levels a magnificent skyline that blinded them with ignorance from the squalid world below. Entering the internal shaft of the Building as it screamed past the sixtieth floor, the three were plunged into the pale white light of the bulb overhead. With a noiseless deceleration thirty seconds later, the elevator began to slow, grinding to a halt as it arrived in the main lobby of the Shinra Headquarters.
They had stopped a short way from a broad carpeted staircase that scaled the wall of the foyer to the spacious open balcony of the restaurant level on the first floor, and wasted no time in vacating the lift. Scanning the vast hall, Aerith could tell immediately that the lobby was void of personnel, its only sign of life the half-eaten burger sitting idly by the flashing monitor on the nearest reception desk. She frowned, her eyes moving from the glowing holographic screens at the centre of the foyer to the numerous displays of motorised vehicles situated on the podiums at its rear, her mind searching for an answer to the curious staff exodus.
"Barret, was there…?" she began, her words trailing off as she turned towards the entrance of the building, and gasped in horror.
Barret stood a few feet from her, his jaw firm, his chain-gun sweeping back and forth across the legions of the Shinra Army that had assembled in the plaza beyond the large windows. Their rifles drawn, several squadrons of infantrymen traced his every move, patiently biding their time before opening fire. Three helmeted Third Class SOLDIERs were stationed at the head of the battalion, two brandishing similar swords, the last wielding what seemed to be an elongated machine-gun. All was silent but for the gentle click of the electronic billboard behind them, the sound of its continuous rotation of bulletins cutting through the tension.
"It would appear we are completely surrounded," reported Red XIII.
"If I was alone, this wouldn't be a problem," grumbled Barret. "But, I got a reputation o' protectin' people, y'know."
"You both should get out while you still can," said Aerith, hanging her head. "It's not you they're after."
"Yeah, well that ain't happenin'," responded Barret, his expression fixed on the static military. "You got caught up in all this 'cause o' Marlene. I owe you a damn lot for that. Now, I can start repayin' by watchin' out for you. Playtime's over for these jackasses…"
"Might I suggest that we think of a way to get out of here rather than charging straight at half the Midgar Army?" offered Red XIII, his cool tone growing serious.
"Hey!" came Tifa's voice suddenly from somewhere above them, startling all three.
They spun to see her bounding down the steps of the nearest staircase, her legs pumping with each stride. As she reached the final curve, she leapt from the railing, landing gracefully at the foot of a small hologram stand bearing the image of the Shinra Diamond. With a momentary assessment of her situation, she galloped across the lobby to a blue pickup van advertised as the newest model of Shinra's sA-37 type motortricycle.
"Tifa, what the hell…?" called Barret.
"C'mon, hurry up!" she answered.
"Where's Cloud?"
"No time for questions!" she yelled, yanking open the driver's door on the cab. "Let's go, everyone!"
Scampering after her, their minds blurred with confusion, the three were able to join her within seconds. Sparks shot from the cab as she rushed to hotwire the vehicle, sending a crackle of current through the air. Jumping into the passenger side next to Tifa, Aerith hurriedly fastened her seatbelt, her face falling anxious. With a growl, the van buzzed into life, the dashboard becoming ablaze with flickering colours and lights and, as Barret banged the plastic screen behind their heads to signal that he and Red XIII were both secure at the back of the truck, there came a strange rumbling from somewhere overhead.
Cloud felt the monstrous V-DOH engine of the Hardy Daytona motorbike jolt beneath him, roaring thunderously as he slowly descended the stairwell. The bike was lengthier in size than he had imagined it to be, forcing him to lean forward as he fought to steer it down the steps. Its metallic black coating shimmered in the beaming lamps of the foyer, concealing within it the mechanics of the manufacturer's trademark design. As he rounded the corner at the foot of the stairs, he noticed the troops in the plaza begin to advance on the Headquarters, and knew that their race to escape would be tight.
Glancing up, he saw Tifa's focused expression from the driver's seat of the pickup, patiently awaiting his command. For a number of seconds he stalled, allowing the soldiers to draw near the main entrance, their weapons targeted on him. They moved ever closer; thirty feet; twenty feet; ten feet. Raising his fist, he reared the bike up on its back wheel and rocketed towards the opposite staircase, barging into the steps. The van's motor screamed from behind as it followed him to the first floor balcony, groaning as it jerkily climbed the stairs.
Cloud brought the vehicle to a standstill at the height of the stairwell, facing the tall spread of windows at the building's northeast corner. For a brief moment he thought of the city that lay beyond his reflection in the glass; a city that he had once called home. He turned as the truck pulled alongside him, hearing the collective shouts as the SOLDIERs and infantrymen smashed through the main entrance below. With a nod to Tifa, he slammed his foot down on the accelerator as the first of the rifles were fired. The Hardy Daytona lurched forward, speeding towards the windows in a blinding haze, and crashed through them, launching the bike into the night.
It landed hard on the tarmac of Highway 23, the twin exhausts on either side of its rear wheel crunching against the road as the suspension buckled on impact. Bullets hailed from the street beneath him as the soldiers reacted desperately to prevent their flight from the Shinra Building, their weak shots recoiling against the underside of the motortricycle as it propelled through the air. There came a heavy sound of distorting metal as the van's nose collided with the freeway, its smoking tyres squealing as Tifa swerved to miss the concrete barrier. Regaining control of the pickup, she pressed down hard on the gas, grappling with the steering as she passed the stationary Cloud, and began to pick up pace.
Tearing along the deserted stretch of road as it made its way from Sector0, the group followed the highway east towards the city limits. On his right, Cloud could make out the innumerable skyscrapers of the ultramodern Sector3 downtown district, like metropolitan sentinels protecting Shinra, Inc.'s dictatorship over the world's economy base. The high buildings shone bright against the dark clouded sky, illuminated by scaling beams of unique colours and shrouded in the mist of Mako fumes.
Before long, the business landscape of office blocks and multiplex centres of shopping and entertainment had started to fade, changing instead to the redbrick residential estates of the Shinra employees. Smaller roads began diverging from the motorway at spaced junctions, some leaving the strip to enter the pleasant façade of the Sectors 2 and 3 suburbs, while others formed a connection to the main southbound Highway 45.
As he tailed the fleeing van, his concentration set on his handling of the Hardy Daytona, Cloud saw Barret's face turn severe. Risking a quick glance over his shoulder, he spotted the inevitable pursuit of the Army rapidly looming. The deep reverberation of the motorbikes met his ears moments later, the shrill screech of their tyres an unwelcome warning of the rate at which they were progressing along the freeway.
Suddenly, the highway veered left, forcing Cloud into the outside lane as he negotiated the curve. As if injected with new energy, the first of the enemy drew inside him in an effort to overtake the Hardy Daytona, his attention fixed on the truck ahead. Wrenching the Buster Sword from its holder, Cloud swiped with all his might, the blade slicing with ease through the front of the bike. With a helpless cry, the soldier was thrown into the barrier as his ride separated beneath him, his thick helmet smashing against the low wall.
Hitting the accelerator, the Hardy Daytona powered forward, taking Cloud out of range of the determined riders. Above them, tall advertisement signposts flew past, illegible at that speed but for a few key words such as 'City Planning', 'Midgar Highway Project' and 'summer completion'. Squinting as the cold morning air rushed over his face, Cloud could make out a collection of hovering silhouettes on the road ahead. Pulling in front of the van as they neared a barricaded junction, his focus trained on the shadows, he felt a sinking sensation in his stomach, his brain finally registering the conical shape and spinning propellers of the Shinra weapons.
With a flailing arm, Cloud frantically motioned Tifa in the direction the off-ramp on their left, raising his sword in defence as the first wave of the Heligunners' bullets ensued, accompanied by the rapid-fire bursts of dancing dragonfly-like Panzer security robots. He heard the shriek of the motortricycle's wheels as it swerved to avoid the onslaught, careering through the blockade of traffic cones and temporary plastic weights. As he slammed the brakes, causing sparks to erupt as he skidded across the tarmac, the Heligunner at the centre of the unit lifted the cannon at its side, discharging an aerial missile.
Steadying his ride as the rocket soared directly at him, Cloud held his breath, his surroundings slowing almost to a standstill as his acute battle awareness took hold, patiently watching it sail nearer. Even with advanced training, the trick was difficult to execute. The missile was only three feet from him when he reacted, flicking his wrist slightly, the angle of the Buster Sword changing at the very instant the nose of the projectile made contact. The deflection caused it to scream past, colliding devastatingly with the onrushing troops, the blast wave of the explosion thrusting the Hardy Daytona forward. Escaping down the slip road, Cloud took off after his companions.
Continuing on a more northerly bearing, the road narrowed and straightened out once more, but began to descend towards the earth, indicating that the industrial outskirts of the Plate were upon them. An environment of grey warehouses and factories extended from the highway, overshadowed by the enormous fin of the Mako Reactor. Power stations and railway depots made up the landscape around the Sector3 Reactor facility, much like that of the Sector1 Reactor they had infiltrated only nine days before. The vast boundary of the Plate expanded out in front of them like an imprisoning perimeter, the high wall of concrete circling the circumference of the upper-city. The nearing entrance to a wide tunnel swallowed the decreasing highway from a single opening on the perimeter, providing the only direct access to the Plate from the outside world.
As the van raced into the tunnel, its pale blue exterior reflecting the beaming orange lamps, Cloud turned to see two more men closing in on him from either side. Their purple uniforms were SOLDIER Second Class, completed by the Hardedge sword they each bore, the first slashing at him with a great surge of strength. Cloud blocked the strike, his triceps burning as he fought to parry the weight of the weapon from behind. Kicking hard at the tyre of the man's bike, the SOLDIER lost his grip on the steering, deviating dangerously towards the arcing tunnel walls as he ground to a stop.
Spinning in time to see the second SOLDIER thrust his blade at him, Cloud yanked the brake, the wheels of the Hardy Daytona smouldering as he skidded momentarily along the road. He ducked, feeling the sword swing harmlessly over his head, and grabbed the man's arm as it hit his back. Wrestling with him as they hurtled around a winding bend, Cloud stared powerlessly as a third SOLDIER tore past on the inside lane, its exhaust fumes spraying over the two. As it approached the truck, the explosive sound of gunfire rang out through the thick smog, shredding the red metallic paint of the pursuing bike. Cloud weaved right as he noticed the bloodied body of the SOLDIER tumbling on the road before them, releasing his hold on the rider as he rammed into his fallen comrade, hurling him to the ground.
Bursting from the blur of smoke, he saw Barret standing tall at the rear of the pickup, his gun-arm rotating furiously. In an instant, the rushing echo of the vehicles' motors around them vanished as the tunnel came to an abrupt end, exposing them again to the cold air. The outer extremities of the Midgar Slums emerged from beneath the base of the Plate, the crumbling remains of the derelict buildings overshadowed by the ever-declining highway suspended two-hundred feet above them.
Cloud felt the Hardy Daytona jerk violently under him as the first SOLDIER again caught up with the party, crashing purposefully against his back tyre. The bike lurched forward, swaying hard to maintain balance against the ruthless assault. The raw wail of scraping metal resonated as the SOLDIER dragged the steel blade of his sword along the bike's frame, sending sparks of flaming white over the two. Cloud deflected the slashes with the Buster Sword, twisting to meet the onslaught with rapid arm movements.
They duelled with untamed aggression, their techniques not dissimilar, hacking at each other's weapon in a concentrated fury. The SOLDIER was a talented swordsman, agile and strong, but was incapable of restraining Cloud's unfaltering attack. He began to struggle with the forceful offensive, cowering on his bike in desperate defence, but suddenly lashed out. Quickly shifting his weight on the Hardy Daytona, Cloud dodged the attempt, showing no mercy in his swift retaliating strike.
The SOLDIER screamed in pain as his arm was severed from his shoulder, the limb bouncing flaccidly on the road. Training his aim on the enemy, an eruption of bullets hailed from Barret's chain-gun, ripping through the man's chest. With a final cry of anguish as his life passed from him, he was unable to prevent his bike accelerating into the edge of the freeway, leaping its barrier as he plummeted to his demise.
Turning, Cloud caught sight of the decelerating pursuit vehicles and security weapons, drawing from the chase in unison, merging with the distant colourless boundary of the Plate until they waned from visibility. Around him, high bars of iron scaffolding began to take shape, creating a fenced enclosure on both sides of the highway. Releasing his pressure on the accelerator, the bike's engine hummed softly, allowing him to glide without difficulty towards the nearing surface of the Planet. Ahead, Tifa had already reduced the van to no more than a crawl, snaking between the flashing roadwork signs that blazed with warnings of the unfinished layout. Gradually rumbling to a halt not far from the temporary termination of the freeway, a jutting ledge which still hung fifty feet from the earth, Cloud set the Hardy Daytona on its side, trudging wearily to end of the road.
The first traces of morning sunlight were creeping over the jagged bluffs of the Midgar Wastelands, absorbing the stars as it scaled the horizon. The arid plains of a terrain void of Mako spanned the boundless view; travelling north towards the coastline of the Eastern Continent, and south to meet the Midgar Mountains at their murky foundations. To the right of the highway, large cranes waited motionless in the vacant construction yard, draping heavy rusting beams from their outstretched arms. A scaffolding platform protruded from the incomplete strip, from which descended the frame of a makeshift staircase.
"You alright?" called Barret as he lowered himself from the pickup. "D'ya think we outran them?"
"They let us go," Cloud responded flatly, his darkened gaze drifting over the land.
"Well, what do we do now?" asked Barret, joining him at the ledge. "We have to get outta the city. We can't stay here."
"Sephiroth is alive," Cloud murmured quietly. "I…I have to settle the score…"
"And that'll save the Planet?"
"Seems like it," he sighed, looking back as he heard Tifa's footsteps approaching. Aerith and Red XIII followed. "We have to find him."
"Then, I guess this is goodbye Midgar," Tifa said with a forced smile, her eyes meeting his.
"There's a long journey ahead," Cloud frowned. "We might not get to see the city again for a while."
"Awright, I'm goin'!" Barret declared with enthusiasm. "As long as I know Marlene's safe with Elmyra, I ain't gonna let nothin' stand in my way of savin' the Planet once an' for all."
"I want to go too," added Aerith, her words laden with melancholy as they floated through the crisp air. "There are still things I need to discover for myself."
"About the Cetra?" asked Tifa.
"About many things," she replied softly, as if her mind had wandered. "I just hope the flowers at the church will be alright. Maybe the children will take care of them for a while…?"
"I will go with you as far as my hometown, Cosmo Canyon," said Red XIII, peering thoughtfully into the distance, "but I have much to do when I return. That is where I will leave you on your journey."
"Well, I don't have anywhere else to go," shrugged Tifa, "so I guess I'm in."
"We should nominate a leader for the group," Barret proposed, beaming proudly as he strolled towards the scaffolding, throwing aimless punches in a mock fight stance. "An' as leader of AVALANCHE, I think it should be me."
"What about Cloud?" posed Aerith.
"What 'bout Cloud?"
"He was the one that came to rescue me, right?"
"But, me an' Tifa…"
"I think Aerith is right," Tifa agreed, biting her lip as Barret's expression turned sour. "He has a lot more experience with this sort of thing."
"Then, its settled," nodded Aerith, gesturing towards the silent Cloud.
"That's bull…fine, whatever," Barret growled dismissively, slamming his gun-arm against the metal framework in frustration. "But, we need to get away from the Shinra an' regroup. The town of Kalm is two day's walk from here, so we better get goin'. We can plan ahead once we arrive. That suit you, Spiky?"
"Let's just get out of here," ordered Cloud.
With a daze of thoughts shuffling through his mind, he acknowledged little of Barret's grumblings as he led the party down the worn steps of the improvised structure. His legs felt heavy and weak, causing the tinny sound of scraping steel to resonate around them as he dragged his boots over the rungs. They came at last to the mounds of grainy soil of the construction site, swirls of dust dancing around them in the gentle breeze and, taking one final glance back at the sleepless city, the company began towards the dawn.
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