Prologue

PROLOGUE

NIGHTS IN SEVENTH HEAVEN

Tifa Lockhart closed the oven door, deciding to let the chicken roast a few minutes longer. Fatty juices oozed from the sizzling skin of the bird, marinating the various vegetables around the tray, releasing a blissful aroma into the pub. Tossing her protective mitts onto the metallic worktop, she returned from the kitchen area to the bar to begin her closing preparations. There came a hiss of static from the radio behind her as a new song began on Midgar FM; it was The Moogles' latest release, 'Ahead on our Way', instantly recognisable by its melodic intro of acoustic guitar and pan pipes.

Mopping the drooping fringe of her silken black hair from her face, she scanned the spacious open-plan room, grateful that the task of shuffling customers out would be minimal that evening. Other than the building's handful of residents, only a pair of men occupied the saloon. Around them, sparkling in the dimmed lights, the colourful balloons she had tied to the ashen timber walls swayed in the warm air churned out by the boiler, changing the lounge into a mesmeric spectacle.

The co-owner of Seventh Heaven, and leader of the anti-Shinra activist group that lived within the clandestine base of operations beneath its wooden floor, tonight celebrated his thirty-fifth birthday. Surrounded on the far side of the room by what few friends he boasted, Barret Wallace guzzled down another beer, laughing heartily at some unheard joke as he ruffled the hair of his small daughter, Marlene. AVALANCHE was Barret's only family, just as it was Tifa's.

"Okay, boys, that's last orders. Can I get you one of my famous cocktails for the road?"

Tifa smiled as she glanced over towards the duo seated at the table nearest the bar. One wore a stylish burgundy suit and sunglasses, his short silver hair complimenting his dark complexion, and despite his intimidating appearance, had shown her courtesy all evening. The second was a regular customer of Seventh Heaven, a young man named Johnny.

Johnny had grown up in the local Sector7 Slum village, and had rarely set foot beyond the city limits of Midgar. The metropolis was his home, but the seedy temptations of the Slums were beginning to slither into his lifestyle. Since taking on the role of bar manager two years before, Tifa had developed a fondness for the boy and his often-comically-irrational ways, and it troubled her to think of what path he may choose. She enjoyed his company, and cherished having an acquaintance that was neither part of AVALANCHE nor even remotely aware that she was.

"You know me," Johnny answered her with a casual wave, his words slurring a little, "nothing but the saké please, Tifa."

"You're so unimaginative," she teased, reaching for the heated bottle. "And you, sir?"

"No, thank you," said the silver-haired man, standing. "I have to get back to Wall Market."

"Goodnight, then," Tifa bade him.

"Same to you," he replied with a short bow, tilting his glasses down to reveal a lustful flash in his hazel eyes. She could sense his gaze examining her shapely figure; the white vest-top she wore was tight across her bust, ripped above the waist to expose her flat stomach, and accompanied by a short black miniskirt over her long legs. "And might I add, you're one fine-looking woman. If you're ever looking for a job, Johnny will know where to find me."

With that, the man turned on his heels, striding across the lounge beyond the low rectangular table at which Barret and the others were sat. She watched with suspicion as he pushed through the swing-doors and stepped out onto the veranda, disappearing down the stairs and into the night, before filling the remainder of Johnny's glass with saké. Her young friend pushed himself awkwardly from his chair, zipping up his leather jacket to conceal his skinny bare torso as he made his way to the counter. In all the time Johnny had been frequenting Seventh Heaven, she could not recollect a single occasion when he had not been clad in the coat with the skull stitched on its back.

"Who was that guy?" she asked pensively, passing Johnny the drink as he slipped onto one of the tall stools.

"His name's Leslie," he said hesitantly, scratching his bright red punk hairdo. "He…uh…he works at the Honey Bee Inn."

"Then, I'll have to decline his offer," Tifa rolled her eyes. "Did you meet him there?"

"He handed me a flyer one night for a new bar they want to open in Wall Market. 'Turtle's Paradise' it's called; they have chains all around the Planet. I told him he should come here and maybe learn a thing or two."

"That's sweet."

"So, where's your childhood friend tonight?" inquired Johnny, motioning towards the single snowy tulip that rested in a jar on the shelf beside the television. "Out buying you more flowers?"

"Very funny," she retorted, sticking her tongue out at him as she gathered dishes and glasses around her. "I don't know where Cloud is. He just said he wasn't in a party mood."

"I don't blame him," Johnny snorted, sneaking a quick look over his shoulder. "Your crew are starting to get a bit rowdy."

"It's Barret's birthday," said Tifa, nodding to the galley in corner of the lounge. "I've prepared a meal for them. It should be ready any minute."

"I'll take that as my cue to get outta here."

"Sorry," she shrugged. "We're closing early tonight. Barret's orders."

"Well, before I go, there's something I, um, wanted to tell you…" began Johnny.

"Okay," Tifa said curiously, dumping a handful of empty beer jugs into the sink, and folding her arms over her chest as she gave him her full attention.

"I'm leaving tomorrow."

"Leaving?" she frowned, not comprehending. "Leaving where?"

"Leaving Midgar," Johnny announced proudly, struggling to repel the grin that was forming at the corner of his lips. "I'm gonna go somewhere far away. I'll do new and exciting things. And when I come back, I'll be a better man."

"Wow…" stammered Tifa, bracing herself on the bar as she absorbed the information. "That…that's great!"

"You've really inspired me, Tifa," he beamed, his handsome face lighting up. "Listening to you talk about your hometown made me want to go spend time in the mountains. Or sail on the ocean. Or maybe one day visit Wutai. You made me realise that there's more to life than just the Slums."

"I did?" she blushed, instantly feeling a tweak on her heart. "So…this is goodbye?"

"Until we meet again," Johnny toasted, holding up his glass, then swigging its contents in a single gulp. "How much do I owe you?"

"It's on the house."

"You're the best. The Angel of the Slums," he winked, holding out his arms. Leaning across the polished counter, Tifa met his tight embrace, burying her face in his shoulder.

"Take care of yourself," she whispered.

"I will," he agreed, releasing his grip on her. "I just hope my parents will be okay. I better go, anyway; I don't really wanna stick around to see Barret lose it again. He almost shot me in the leg last week."

"Good luck," said Tifa, giving him a feeble wave.

"I'm gonna miss this place," Johnny sighed as he retreated from the bar, his eyes passing from the drinks cabinet to the orange pinball machine to the lofty ceiling adorned by flags bearing various images, and back. Pausing briefly in doorway, he turned, meeting her sentimental gaze. "Thanks for the saké."

Taking a few seconds to compose herself as the boy vanished from sight, swiftly brushing away the single teardrop that escaped down her pale cheek, Tifa slumped back to the kitchenette. Johnny's news had dampened her spirits somewhat; though she knew that she should be happy for him, she was overcome by a fleeting moment of loss and grief.

Get a hold of yourself, she scolded internally, you're just being selfish. And you have much more to worry about right now…

Yanking open the oven door, she was met by a light cloud of smoke, and carefully manoeuvred the cooking tray onto the worktop. Grabbing a selection of plates from the shelf to her left, she distributed slices of the juicy meat and browned vegetables, ensuring Barret had the largest portion. She loaded six dishes onto the old waitressing trolley, putting another aside for Cloud, and wheeled them over to the dining table.

The teenage Wedge panted with delight as she approached, hungrily rubbing his belly in anticipation of the feast, and hastily clearing the beer bottles to make space. His yellow t-shirt was taut over his bulging waistline, already stained by spilled alcohol from the evening's festivities. Jessie jumped up from her seat at the table, placing a grateful hand on Tifa's before assisting her to pass the plates around the group. Squeezing into a chair between Jessie and Barret, she joined them for the meal, smiling weakly as she felt the latter's hulking arm wrap around her shoulders.

"Did I ever tell ya you're an excellent cook?" he mused playfully, a broad grin spreading across his bristly features. His breath was laden with the stench of beer, his glazed eyes indicating he was beyond the realm of sobriety.

"Only every day."

"Dunno what we'd do without you," admitted Barret, planting a sloppy kiss on her forehead before retracting his hand so that he could unfold a napkin across his enormous dark-skinned chest.

Tifa recalled when she had first met the giant man, and how such a simple task had proven frustrating for him. Barret had suffered the loss of his right forearm somewhere in his tragic past and now, attached to his limb in its place, was a six-barrelled gatling-gun; it was a devastating weapon that he did not hesitate to use.

"I'll second that," offered Biggs with a mouth full of chicken. His mess of hair had fallen across his young face but he seemed indifferent as he stabbed at his food.

"Don't you have somethin' to say to Tifa, Marlene?" Barret asked his daughter as he handed her a fork.

"Thank you, Tifa," chirped the child, patting her own napkin down onto the lap of her pink cotton dress.

"You're welcome, honey."

"To Tifa…for throwin' a great party," boomed Barret, raising a glass to her, waiting for the rest to follow his lead, "an' to AVALANCHE."

"To AVALANCHE!" chimed Biggs, Wedge and Jessie in unison.

"I know I don't tell you lot often enough," Barret shook his head, his poignant stare sweeping slowly around the table, lingering on each of them, "but y'all really do a great job for me. An' I'm not just sayin' that 'cause I've been drinkin'…I mean it. What we pulled off at Mako Reactor1 will help to save the Planet. An' y'all played your part in that. But, listen up, once we complete the next mission, we're gonna have to lay low for a while. So…you guys want a vacation?"

"Alright!" exclaimed Biggs, spitting a chunk of potato halfway across the table.

"I do! I do!" cheered Wedge excitedly, clapping his chubby hands together.

"I'll take y'all to the birthplace of the original AVALANCHE," declared Barret, greedily tearing the meat from his chicken leg, smearing grease across his beard. "The holy land for the Protectors o' the Planet: Cosmo Canyon."

"You serious?" gasped Jessie, her expression filled with wonder.

"Yup."

"Do you think they have hot springs there?" she asked eagerly. "I've always wanted to try them."

"Maybe," shrugged Barret.

"And we could all wear new outfits," suggested Biggs. "Y'know, not be dressed in the same old combat gear all the time. I think I'd like to try on a proper businessman's suit. Even just once. Maybe with a fedora."

"What about the food?" murmured Wedge, licking his lips. "Do they have good food?"

"You bet they do!" encouraged Barret. "An' delicious booze. A sky full o' stars as far as the eye can see. The cracklin' of bonfires in the distance. Listenin' to the elders talk 'bout the Study of Planetary Life. All that 'round you while you munch on the best grub. How's that sound? Not bad, huh?"

"You think I could bring my little brother too?" proposed Wedge shyly.

"Kwedge wouldn't wanna come, anyway," laughed Biggs, slapping his comrade on the back. "There ain't no sex parlours where we're goin'. If you invited him, I'd need to ask my sis as well. And you know what she's been like since mum died."

"I guess," Wedge conceded, sheepishly lowering his head. "Never mind…"

"What about Cloud?" said Jessie, glancing timidly towards Tifa, who quickly looked away.

"Yeah…he's comin' too," nodded Barret.

"But his payment," frowned Biggs, "we can't afford it anymore, right?"

"Don't y'all worry 'bout that," Barret dismissed. "If we can't pay SOLDIER-boy, we'll grab him by the scruff o' the neck an' drag his spiky ass there."

As an eruption of giggles broke out around the dining table, Tifa could feel her mind drift from the conversation. She hated herself for being so affected by having to say goodbye to Johnny, but there was something more. The celebrations only seemed to exist on the surface.

Though none had spoken about their catastrophic bombing of the Mako Reactor and the subsequent deaths of hundreds of people, a dark realisation had settled over the group. It was as if each of them was internally questioning the nobility of their cause, and its value when sacrificing innocent civilians; it was not enough just to claim the enormity of the explosion was an accident.

No matter how much they wanted to deny it, the Shinra news reports and propaganda were right: AVALANCHE were no longer simply revolutionaries, they were terrorists. The group had started down a slippery slope from which they were unlikely to recover; they were now no better than their militant predecessors. Worse still, an unpleasant sensation had found its way to the pit of Tifa's stomach and, as she watched the others enjoy the company of their adopted family, she could not shake the feeling that tonight would be the last time they would all be together like this.

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