I
CHAPTER I
UNDERTAKING THE ODYSSEY
The blood on the crown of his head was still warm as his fingers caressed thick lumps of matted hair; he could not have been unconscious for long. His legs had knotted as he fell, numbed now by the distorted circulation, aching as he dragged himself to his feet in the quiet library. He inhaled lastingly, hoping the oxygen would help lessen the pain of his throbbing skull, and gripped the corner of the desk for support as his thoughts steadily began to return. As his blurred vision settled on the maroon leather armchair, Cloud's eyes shot open with a start, and he was overwhelmed by the sudden horrific comprehension.
Sephiroth…
The following moments seemed to race past without his full awareness, as if he were watching himself in a dream. He felt strangely removed from his pounding muscles as he limped down the passage, into the cavern, up the tower stairwell; his thumping head was ready to explode. The second floor corridor of the mansion reached without end into a darkened forever as he stumbled hurriedly to the main foyer, its haunting walls closing in around him. Abruptly, he came to the staircase, descended, scurried across the hallway, and wrapped his hand around the worn handle of the old oak door, pulling as hard as he could.
Cloud's heart stopped as the furious blast of crisp warm air assaulted his skin, a muffled cry escaping his lips as he saw the inferno of orange flames climbing into the night sky above the town. He staggered down the garden path of the manor's grounds towards the mangled gate of hewed iron that clung despairingly to the redbrick wall, at last breaking onto the rocky dirt trail. The hurt of his injuries vanished instantly as the agony of the sight sent adrenaline streaming through his blood, driving him forward in the direction of the burning Nibelheim.
Terrible…Sephiroth, this is too terrible…
Past the orchard and cottages of the town's border he scrambled, coughing and gasping for air, feeling the searing heat of the fires inside each home as he fought his way through the dense smoke that billowed from windows and doorways. His thoughts were a whirlwind as he witnessed the flames creeping over the shingled rooftops of the houses, charring their sandstone walls, and melting the hanging wind chimes. The image of his mother's face flashed in his mind, forcing him to run faster, panicked by the fear of a fate she may already have met. The trail had already broadened to form the declining paved street before an eerie realisation seized Cloud.
Where the hell are the villagers? Where are the screams? Where is the help?
He charged on through the blaze, almost losing his balance as he came to the wide concrete stairs at the edge of the town square. Through the black clouds, he could make out the smouldering shops on the precinct's circumference, and the crumbling and futile water tower at its centre. The bedroom annex of Gramps' Inn had completely collapsed around the building's entrance, exposing its disintegrated interior. Darting down the steps, he reeled to a halt, faced by a scene he had hoped not to find.
More than a dozen townspeople lay slaughtered across the ground, dark blood oozing from the multiple sword wounds. They had been shown no mercy, their corpses left in the same sadistic positions as they had fallen. Dread enveloped him again, and he started towards the eastern boulevard, his legs heavy and unwilling to carry him to his old home. Swaying drunkenly as he moved, intoxicated by his inability to compute what was happening, he weaved among the silent bodies, yanking the Buster Sword from across his shoulder as a figure burst from the smog of the street before him.
"Cloud!" whimpered the young soldier, his quivering voice filling with sorrow as he saw his friend. "I tried to save her…I tried…but she…"
"Who?" Cloud asked desolately, but closed his eyes, for he already knew the answer.
"Your mother…"
The words hit him like a train wreck. The intensity of the flames; the anger of betrayal; all of it; everything was gone in that moment. A void of hopelessness opened beneath him. He was on his knees. Tears plunged down his cheeks. There was no sound; nothing. His stomach churned, his mouth was dry; Claudia's radiant beauty was all that he could see. Guilt swallowed him. He had abandoned her. It was Cloud's fault she had died. His and his alone.
No…it is another's. There will be a time to grieve. There will be a time to mourn my mother's passing. But, it is not now. Now is the time to seek revenge for these atrocities. Get up! Get up, Cloud! Sephiroth must pay for what he has done…
"Hey!"
The booming voice cut through the thick air like a fog horn. It woke Cloud from his misery, returning him to the awfulness of the present. He sprang to his feet, his heart roaring, grabbing the Buster Sword from aside him. Across the plaza, Zangan was bent over the young photographer outside the Nibel Accessories store, trying hastily to exert pressure on Rick's bleeding chest. Motivated only by seething hatred as his eyes fell upon the dying boy, Cloud dashed towards them, the infantryman at his heels.
"You're still sane, right?" Zangan called vindictively as they approached, brushing loose strands of bushy grey hair from his sweaty face as he frantically struggled to save Rick's life. His red mantle was torn, and his beard was singed; it was evidence of a battle for his own survival amidst the chaos.
"How can anyone stay sane in a situation like this?" replied Cloud bitterly, summoning all his mental strength to block out images of his mother.
"Everyone called him a hero!" snarled Zangan, "Tonight, Sephiroth has proven himself nothing more than a murderer. He used Firaga magic more powerful than any I've ever seen. All of Nibelheim was engulfed in seconds. The villagers didn't stand a chance."
"Why did…he do this…?" strained Rick, his features frail as he lay propped against the wall of the shop.
"Hey, hang in there, lad," comforted Zangan. "We'll get you some help…"
"Are there any more survivors?" asked Cloud.
"A few," he answered, dabbing the young man's forehead as he emitted a faint moan. "I checked most of the houses that were still standing, but there is little hope. Your Turk friend has already set off up the mountain in search of Sephiroth…as has Tifa…"
"Tifa went after Sephiroth?" stammered Cloud, his chest heaving in alarm.
"Her father is at the Reactor," sighed Zangan, shaking his head. "I tried to stop her. She thinks she can protect him…but she is no match for Sephiroth. Only a SOLDIER like you can challenge him."
"Then, we have to go!" Cloud ordered, nodding once at his comrade. "Now! Before anyone else is hurt."
"Take care of Tifa," pleaded Zangan, his strong gaze burning into Cloud's. "You're the only one who can…"
The final words were dulled out as there came an explosion of glass from behind them. Cloud spun quickly, his sword aloft, only to witness the shards of an old lamppost's light blast in the soaring temperatures across the street leading from the square's steps. Oil spurted from the lamp, dousing the raised pathway in wildfire.
At the centre of the blaze lingered an unflinching Sephiroth, his Masamune drawn, his maddened eyes watching Cloud through drooping strands of silver hair. Tongues of fire licked his black trenchcoat, slithering over his body like scorching tentacles. With no sign of remorse for the massacre he had committed, Sephiroth turned, and began through the flames towards the Mount Nibel Mako Reactor.
Cloud sat up in a cold sweat, his hands trembling as they clutched the rosy bed sheets tightly. Panting erratically, he felt his racing pulse gradually slow, allowing his head to fall back against the soft pillow as he caught his breath. His recount the previous evening of the tragic events at his hometown meant that they were fresh in his mind as he fell into a deep sleep, and his nightmares were subsequently laden with the leering face of Sephiroth, the one who was responsible for it all.
Despite this, he sensed something had changed inside him. Sharing with the others the details of the Nibelheim incident five years earlier seemed to have slightly deflated the great weight that had borne down darkly on him. It had been a few weeks since he had regained consciousness in the Slums of Midgar, but his anger and hatred remained as potent as it had back in that square, for he was still raw with anguish.
Sephiroth, he mused, a momentary surge of rage screaming wildly through his blood at the very mention of the name, I will find you...
Hazy beads of golden sunlight trickled in through the open window to his left, wavering over the flat duvet where Aerith and Tifa had slept as the gentle morning breeze blew the curtain hither and thither. The large guestroom of the Cromwell Inn was empty but for himself and the pleasant tweeting of singing birds, the sound sharp and sweet to the ear as it drifted in from somewhere nearby. He propped himself up, and for a time rested against the headboard, gazing absently at the floral patterns on the high ceiling as his thoughts strayed. The cold winter air fluttered about his bare torso, caressing his skin with its smooth fingertips.
When at last he chose to rouse from his wandering daydreams, Cloud swung his tired legs over the edge of the bed, his body groaning with what felt like an enormous effort, and thrust his feet into his unzipped military boots. Snatching his dark blue sleeveless poloneck from the floor, he pulled it down over his untidy head of spiked blonde hair, spluttering as the dust it had gathered from the party's recent trek across the Wastelands filled his mouth. He strapped down his brown leather braces and armoured shoulder pauldron and, collecting the Buster Sword from its upright position against the bedside cabinet, trudged sleepily over the creaking timber floorboards and out of the room.
The pinewood hallway outside was long and narrow, lined by broad windows that exposed a fantastic view of the indigo-shingled rooftops of Kalm. Scavenging seagulls sailed in circles above the peaceful and archaic fortified town, migrating from the coast to inspect the delicious scent of the freshly caught fish on display at the market stalls along the streets. The clock tower stood elevated inside the northeast corner of the citadel's scaling concrete perimeter walls, the antiquated hands on its quartet of faces revealing that it was approaching midday. It was like a lone sentinel watching over the labyrinth of sloping roofs, whose jagged appearance was broken only by the winding pathways that snaked below. Beyond the tower, far to the east of the inn, rose the lofty spire that belonged to the gothic façade of Kalm Cathedral, a landmark at the border of the settlement, which even from a distance was noticeably topped by the ancient religious symbol of the elements.
Descending the staircase, Cloud came to the spacious lobby of the tavern, the daylight reminding him of how tacky the entrance's tangerine carpet appeared, just as the lamps had done the previous evening. Aerith and Tifa waited in the armchairs by the reception desk, giggling light-heartedly between themselves as they spotted Cloud slump down the bottom step. They both got to their feet as he loomed, barely able to contain their laughter.
"Good morning," chirped Aerith, skipping over to meet him, the unbuttoned tails of her pink dress dancing at her ankles. Her brown bangs framed her attractive features, the rest of her hair tied in a ponytail with the same silk ribbon she always wore. "How did you sleep?"
"Fine," Cloud mumbled groggily, reluctant to divulge the specifics of his nightmare. He scanned the vacant foyer as he spoke. "Where's Red and Barret?"
"They've already gone to the market," answered Tifa, gesturing towards the boulevard.
"For what?"
"Barret wanted to pick up a few provisions before we set off after Sephiroth," she said, shrugging indifferently. "Just some stuff we'll need for the journey-"
"So, he and Red have been out all morning," chimed Aerith.
A fleeting hint of annoyance crossed Tifa's brow with the interruption, but it disappeared in an instant, and she returned to her usual warm smile. Ever since their youth, that same resolute positivity was something that could always be depended upon. The last few days had seen horrific loss and devastation with the Shinra Corporation obliterating Midgar's Sector7 to eradicate AVALANCHE for good, blaming the rebels in the process. Thousands had been murdered, including three of Tifa's close friends, and her livelihood at the bar no longer existed, not to mention that she, just like the others, was now a fugitive. Even in the face of such despair, her strength seemed not to wane.
"Those two together must be drawing a few stares," Cloud pondered, his expression growing more serious.
"Nothing Barret's not used to," dismissed Tifa. "That gun-arm of his gets him all sorts of unwanted attention."
"Exactly," said Cloud. "None of us should be out in the open too long. The Shinra will have eyes everywhere."
"You're starting to sound just like him," chuckled Tifa, reaching behind her back and plucking a thin electronic device from her silver utility belt. "I'm surprised he even bought these."
"A cellphone?" Cloud frowned, holding his gloved hand out as Tifa passed it to him.
"This one's for you," she beamed enthusiastically. "Barret never really let us have them in Midgar. He was paranoid Shinra could track AVALANCHE through them."
"And mine was confiscated by Tseng at Shinra Headquarters," added Aerith.
"This model's a bit different to the portable terminals they used to issue in the Army," he recalled, flicking open the cover to reveal a small number pad and colourful data screen.
"It's a personal handheld system," Tifa nodded, "or PHS for short. It's pretty much the same thing; we can still call or email each other and wirelessly access the Worldwide Network, but most of the other capabilities are an inferior grade. It'll be easier to keep a low profile that way. We've all got one…well, except Red, of course. It was my idea. Most of our equipment was in Seventh Heaven, so we're really down to the bare essentials right now. Anyway, this way we can keep in contact no matter where we are."
"Good thinking," he grunted, slipping the PHS into the pouch on his braces. "So, what now?"
"Barret wanted to leave as soon as possible, but we said we should wait until you woke up," sniggered Aerith, exchanging a cheeky grin with Tifa. "We thought you would be less grumpy that way."
"He's right," agreed Cloud, ignoring the remark as he started towards the exit, attaching his greatsword to the magnetic holster on his back. "We have to get as far away from Midgar as we can, and as quickly as possible. President Rufus has probably put an arrest warrant on our heads by now, and what's to say he hasn't already sent the Turks or SOLDIER after us? We really don't want them on our trail. Do you know where we'll find those two?"
"We've to meet them at Memorial Square," replied Tifa as she and Aerith scurried after him.
"Good," Cloud acknowledged, pushing through the creaking wooden door and stepping out onto the cobbled main street. "Then, we have no reason to stay in Kalm any longer than necessary."
He was met by a chilled wind as it hustled between the buildings bordering the pedestrian pathway, still bearing the salty aroma of the ocean. Although remaining serene in its own way, the road was much livelier than it had been the night before. Children played and adults gossiped all around them, strolling along without a care in the world. The trio turned left and began northbound, Aerith's fascination with the pale limestone homes and taverns unfaltering as she walked, wholly reminded of her escape from the desolation and impoverishment of the Slums.
The architecture of Kalm was unique to the region; almost without exception, the detached structures of the district bore the same pallid white front, adorned by dark pinewood and panelled glass windows. They were each three storeys tall, with the uppermost level styled as an attic bedroom, enclosed by an acutely inclined roof. Brick chimneys emerged occasionally from their crests, some accompanied by heavy piping that would have once supplied gas to the residence.
The merry ambience of the town floated in the air with charm, welcoming the cheerful chatter of housewives as they leaned from windows to hang their clothes out to dry on the lines above the alleys, and the hearty hollers of the kids that chased a soccer ball around. As the three neared central Kalm, the thoroughfare grew noticeably more crowded, leaving them to dodge the hurried denizens that came and went about their daily business without so much as a second glance at Cloud or the weapon he carried.
After a time, the path widened to form a busy marketplace, the various canopied stalls occupying the entirety of the small plaza around a sprinkling marble fountain. There were booths selling fruit and vegetables, others trading electrical goods, while some displayed anything from fluffy toy moogles to candy dumbapples, potions and breathtakingly-coloured flowers of all shapes and sizes.
Aerith stared at the yellow lilies with a mixed sense of wonder and sadness, the passing glint of lament in her eyes unmistakeable as she reflected on those she had left behind at the Sector5 church. For Aerith, that sacred place was her sanctuary, her refuge from those at Shinra, Inc. who would seek to harm her. She had sacrificed it all for the safety of a little girl; a stranger; Barret's daughter.
Maybe one day she'll go back, Cloud thought to himself as he watched her gently lift a wilted lily, offering a silent prayer of her Cetran ancestors to breathe new life into it. Maybe one day this will all be over…
Barret whistled in admiration as he gazed upon the basilica, a Temple to the Gods, allowing the backpacks he carried to drop to the ground beside the base of the broad steps that led to the church. Kalm Cathedral was as magnificent as he remembered; it was a special addition and centrepiece of Minerva Square, rare in the modern era, its gothic exterior distinctive amid the shops and cafés that enclosed the forum. Above its doorway of fine elm was a beautiful arched frame of stained glass depicting the Goddess Minerva - to whom the church and its vicinity were dedicated - with her long blonde hair, clad in a gown of purest white garnished by decorative golden armour, and brandishing an ornate sceptre and shield. Atop that was a glimmering rose window, on either side of which were two stone statuettes, situated within four small recesses.
At the pinnacle of the grand steeple that roofed the bell tower was the ancient religious icon, one which he had known and worshipped in his younger days. It was basic in design: a vertical line crossed by a saltire, with a halo at its head. The points of the saltire and the crown represented the five main elements in history, respectively symbolising Earth, Air, Fire, Water and Holy.
Squinting hard, he could make out the detailed carvings of the stone sculptures, and at once realised they too reflected this. There was a selection of deities: Ifrit the Hellfire Demon, with his blazing mane and terrifying brute force; Shiva the Ice Queen, her angelic figure wrapped in a shawl of untainted frost; Ramuh the Lord of Thunder, his bushy grey beard falling over his robes as he prepared to strike lightning; Titan the Terra Golem, quaking the land angrily beneath him with his monstrous strength.
"Ain't that somethin'?" Barret puffed rhetorically, expecting no response from the large feline beast at his side.
Red XIII grunted in agreement, unwilling to speak in the presence of a passing woman. Around them, townspeople were relaxing on the wooden benches that dotted the expansive piazza or simply meandering across the intricate spiral mosaic paving, weaving between the artistic iron-cast streetlamps. A handful of children had gathered to ogle the duo, clearly fascinated in particular by the tattooed creature with the fiery orange fur, whose tail swayed back and forth behind him, its tip dancing with a brilliant flame of light. The movement caught Barret's attention, snapping his thoughts from the Gods.
"Can't you keep that damn thing still, old timer?" he muttered with furrowed brows.
"I am not doing this because I choose to," sighed Red XIII, his thin wolf-like snout twitching, meeting his friend's glance with an acquiescent look in his one remaining eye. "You see, this appendage of mine moves quite independently of my will."
Barret snorted in brief amusement, shifting his gaze towards the youths. His mind turned to his daughter, Marlene, recalling their goodbye before undertaking the rescue of Aerith from the Shinra Building. Tears had trickled down the six-year-old's delicate features as he embraced her tightly. Though his heart yearned to be with her, he could console himself that she would be safe under the guardianship of Aerith's foster mother. Elmyra Gainsborough had promised him they would soon leave the dangers of Midgar behind, and settle for a while with her sister somewhere in Kalm. He was glad that Marlene would have the opportunity to live in such a wonderful and tranquil environment, a far cry from her turbulent past and the horrors she had been exposed to in recent weeks by her connection with AVALANCHE.
Despite having considered himself an anti-Shinra activist for a long time, Barret's approach to radical thinking had only altered over the last six months. Along with his small crew of Tifa, Biggs, Wedge and Jessie, they had followed the principals of the non-militant branch of the original AVALANCHE in its bid to raise awareness regarding the deterioration of the Planet, but its influence had severely declined. Since that fateful day almost seven years earlier when a plot to assassinate President Shinra narrowly failed, Shinra, Inc. had been at war with AVALANCHE's extremist wing. Acts of global terrorism were periodically reported in the Midgar newspapers, manipulating public opinion to justify military spending or the taxation on Mako production.
The audacity of the Company disgusted him, especially after everything they had robbed him of, and his revulsion had reached a critical level when, in early October that same year, certain rumours began to occupy the headlines of the press; President Shinra had declared that the radical leaders of AVALANCHE had been killed by the Army.
Fearing that no challenge would thereafter arise to the Corporation's greedy and monopolistic stranglehold on intercontinental politics and the worldwide economy, Barret discussed with his friends the possibility of taking more revolutionary measures themselves. He was stunned to learn that each of them passionately supported his proposals, and thus was born the new AVALANCHE, named in honour of their predecessors.
A breakthrough had occurred when Jessie discovered and decrypted files that had belonged to Fuhito, the crazed mastermind behind the old terrorists. Their plan was to detonate a bomb large enough to cause a Mako Reactor to malfunction, gradually sparing the lifeblood of the Planet from Shinra. However, something had gone terribly wrong, setting in motion a chain of events that would lead to the Company's unprecedented and heinous atrocities.
Shinra had destroyed the Support Pillar which held aloft the Sector7 Plate, causing an entire district of Midgar's upper-city to plummet to the earth, crushing the Slums and its inhabitants below. Along with countless others, Biggs, Wedge and Jessie had perished. They were too young to die. Barret would never forgive Shinra for what they had done, just as he would never forgive himself for the role he had played.
Now, amidst the chaos, a new threat had emerged in the crisis of the Planet. Sephiroth, a hero of the Wutai War and former Captain of SOLDIER, had returned to wreak vengeance on the Company that had created him through their immoral experiments. The President had been murdered, and power had transferred to his son and heir, Rufus Shinra. Sephiroth was in search of the Promised Land, a legendary place said to be abundant in Mako, and Cloud saw this as foreboding; the mission to save the Planet was now intertwined with his old colleague's goal.
An ex-SOLDIER himself, Cloud Strife had been hired by AVALANCHE as a mercenary under the request of Tifa, and had assisted them in their attacks at the Mako Reactors. However, like Barret, Cloud's past was laden with tragedy, and his tale of the events at Nibelheim suggested that the impending crisis was far more complex than they had anticipated. Barret wondered if the journey they were about to embark upon to stop Sephiroth was a personal vendetta, or if its true nature would reveal itself to be much greater than them all.
"You humans certainly make a big deal of your faith and your Gods," Red XIII concluded absently, observing the grandeur of the cathedral.
"Huh?" responded Barret, the genteel voice returning him to the present.
"I have never really been one for polytheism," he explained. "My race has traditionally strived simply to be at peace with the Planet."
"Really? I'd have bet on Bugenhagen bein' interested in this kinda stuff."
"Oh, he is," Red XIII clarified. "Grandpa is not of my species, but he encourages his students to have faith. To him, the act of believing in a higher power shows humility in an individual, irrespective of the focus of that belief. His philosophies are so often convoluted. I guess you could say that he is an advocate of faith, but not necessarily religion."
"Yeah?" murmured Barret under his breath. "Well, I got a bone to pick with faith."
"Haven't we all?" the beast concurred solemnly. A reflective silence fell between the two, broken only by the resonating chime of the cathedral's bells to signal that noon had arrived.
"We better make tracks an' go find the others," said Barret, leaning over to grab the backpacks at his feet.
The contents of the bags rattled noisily inside, the din primarily caused by the cooking utensils and hiking tools he had purchased that morning. Browsing the stalls, he had collected as many useful items and supplies as he could think of: tents, PHSs, waterproof apparel, preserved food, basic medicine, and had even treated himself to a new bandolier of thirty-five millimetre bullets from the weapon store.
Turning their backs on the basilica, the pair crossed the mosaic plaza, aiming for the boulevard that would lead them westward to the heart of the municipality. Minerva Square itself was located in the easternmost ward of Kalm, flanked by a stretch of loggia ramparts, its entrance portal situated between two hulking granite watchtowers. On either side of the mall were raised terraces, home to minor shopping precincts, each with a range of pubs, eateries and other various outlets.
Passing through the majestic oriental-style gateway, Barret and Red XIII turned left, following the bastion walls a short distance until the pathway veered west once more. Down the lane they proceeded, navigating their way around the randomly placed beer kegs, where they came to a small quadrangle, lined at one end with a tiny garden patch which boasted the stalks of fledgling elm trees.
The gazes of curious residents continued to flick between the menacing gatling-gun on the arm of the dark-skinned giant, and the glowing tail of the unusual creature, his paws padding heavily on the cobbles as he walked. Beyond the courtyard was a set of stairs that ventured down towards Kalm's core, soon joining with one of its main thoroughfares. Though their architectural design was similar to most of the township's buildings, the structures of this bustling street were noticeably contemporary or, more precisely, less aged. The colours on their façades had yet to fade or chip, and did not share the common weathered appearance. The road led the duo directly to another large portal, and into a vast octagonal forum.
The hub and inner-citadel of the settlement, Memorial Square was bound on all sides by a fortified wall of enormous granite slabs, accessible only via one of eight posterns. In olden times, the citizens of Kalm would meet here as a community to enjoy festivals and market days, but the constant restoration works over the last decade had seen the area's image and purpose alter dramatically, and its allure had significantly diminished. The scaffolding and construction site had now gone, but all that was left was a bland gathering place with a handful of businesses, and an unimaginative Shinra, Inc. municipal building on the northwest corner that was closed for the day.
At the centre of the space was a thin, rusting Mako funnel lodged within a barricaded frame to protect the controls and pressure gauges that monitored the energy levels being sent from the Reactors in Midgar. It was set upon a wide circular brickwork platform, accompanied by various containers and piping terminals, and what appeared to be some form of display which granted the public the opportunity to learn about its functions. Adjacent to the tower was a grey marble cenotaph topped by a bronze angel.
As they wandered across the piazza, its spiral paving mirroring that of Minerva Square, Barret saw a smartly dressed elderly man kneel beside the podium on which the empty tomb stood, carefully placing a wreath of violets at its base. Gesturing for Red XIII to join him, they approached the monument, taking up a position behind the man. The cenotaph was trapezoid in shape, narrowing as it grew approximately ten feet in height, and bore an engraved plaque with a few lines beneath the Shinra Diamond, the Company's insignia:
In memory of those who lost their lives in the disaster of
April 18th, [µ]-εγλ 1997
Gone to a better place
Yet mourned by those whom were left behind
May their souls forever rest in peace
Commissioned by
Shinra Electric Power Company, Department of General Affairs
Unveiled
April 18th, [ν]-εγλ 0002
"A lot has changed since the accident…" the old man sighed, speaking over his shoulder, his words seeming as frail as he was. "Even after ten years, I still think of my wife each day."
"A gas explosion, right?" asked Barret. "I heard 'bout it when I was here a few years ago."
"That was the official line," replied the man as he stood, turning to face them. His wispy white hair was combed to one side, and shadows had formed under his sad eyes. He seemed indifferent to the odd visual combination of the battle-scarred pair to whom he had spoken.
"You don't sound convinced," remarked Barret.
"I've gone over the events of that afternoon a thousand times in my head," he shrugged. "I was at a bar when it happened. The whole room shook; the windows shattered into a million pieces. When we got outside, we found black smoke billowing from this spot. Then, the Shinra emergency teams got here. Nobody was allowed into the blast zone. We didn't know if our families and friends were safe. It was awful.
"They told us there had been a serious gas leak. But, I ask you…how could a gas explosion level a whole district? How could there have been no survivors? Why couldn't the rescue crews find some of the bodies? They never gave us any answers. All they did was tell us we were wrong to have trusted in gas and coal, that the future of energy was Mako. And we believed them. The mines down south started to decline, and all the work slowly dried up. It got even worse when the monsters began to appear, and there was nothing the men could do to stop their businesses going to pot. Some of them had lost so much that they turned to alcohol. You can still usually find the old miners drinking in the bars and pubs around town.
"After that, Shinra tried to help us. They funded the reconstruction of central Kalm, giving a lot of people their homes back. For five years work continued and, when they were finished, they erected this memorial. They sent one of the Executive members to give a speech on the anniversary of the incident. This was Director Veld's hometown; the poor fellow had lost his family in the accident. His words were very moving but, in the end, his job had been to rally support for the Company.
"Thanks to the Mako supply Shinra developed for the town, life's pretty damn convenient now. Maybe a little too convenient. And for what? Mako won't bring back my wife. Those Reactors of Shinra are sucking up all the natural resources of this land. It seems a lot of plants and animals have been disappearing rapidly, and there's far more monsters around now. If it was up to me, I'd get rid of Mako energy. The old life was better, don't you think?"
"Damn straight," nodded Barret.
"But now, the people have forgotten how to get by without it."
"There's still plenty o' other energy sources," Barret shook his head. "Reopen the coal mines or drill the oil fields, I say. That's what'd happen if the Shinra ever toppled."
"Well, either way, lad," the man said philosophically, placing a hand on Barret's muscular arm, "as long as we're using their Mako Reactors, we can't stand up to them."
"Someone has to!" argued Barret, feeling his blood boil. "What 'bout that AVALANCHE group?"
"Shinra will just eliminate anyone who gets in their way," he conceded. "That's what the last President did, and it's what the new one will do. Whether we like it or not, we have to live with the fact that Shinra has taken over. The world's at peace…all is well. There's nothing folks like us can do but sit back and watch them lead everyone around by the nose."
With that, the elderly gentleman gave Barret a gentle pat on the shoulder, and hobbled away from the cenotaph. Barret's focus was set on the words of the column, his fist clenched. The man's somewhat submissive attitude reflected that of the population's vast majority: electing to lead an easier life at the cost of the Planet's, unwilling to defy Shinra.
An' why should they? Look what happened to Sector7. Biggs…Wedge…Jessie…
With a growl, he tore his stare from the monument, and stalked back in the direction of a small wagon near the rusting Mako structure. Rolling a barrel aside, he sat down on the squat wooden cart to wait for the others to arrive at the meeting point, Red XIII lying at his feet. A cluster of wanted flyers were pinned to the adjoining railings, offering a substantial reward for the capture of a mysterious treasure hunter who had stolen a precious artefact from a local traveller's antique collection: a priceless Earth Harp.
It would only be a few minutes before Cloud emerged from the southern gateway to the vacant forum, cautiously assessing his surroundings before waving for Tifa and Aerith to follow. Despite his often-arrogant personality and indifferent views on the health of the Planet, Barret grudgingly admired and respected the young mercenary as a skilled swordsman, particularly for his incredible efforts against the SOLDIERs that had pursued them at high speed from Shinra Headquarters. Though it had been little more than forty-eight hours, it felt like an eternity had passed since escaping Midgar.
"'Bout time you three showed up," Barret called in mock frustration as they drew near. "What kept ya?"
"Are we ready to leave?" Cloud responded without amusement.
"As ready as we're gonna be," he snorted, hopping to the ground. The wagon rocked heavily as the weight shifted, stirring Red XIII from his position. Leaping up, the beast glared accusingly at Barret, muttering something incoherent under his breath as he trotted to join Aerith and Tifa. "You got a destination?"
"We need to get away from the Midgar region," exhaled Cloud, looking west towards the distant metropolis. "South is best."
"Well, there ain't nothin' worth seein' north of here but coastline," agreed Barret, "an' from what you told us 'bout Sephiroth, he don't seem like a beach kinda guy. We should head for the Healen Valley. That's far enough from Midgar that folks there will notice a stranger like him."
"Yeah..." Cloud accepted, a flicker of unease showing on his sullen face.
Barret knew the torturous conflict that would be ensuing within the boy at that moment: his unrelenting desire to avenge his mother; his fear of an opponent stronger than any other he had ever known; the disheartening reality that the direction and outcome of his quest was hidden from him. Like Tifa and Aerith, he was in his early twenties and still just a kid in comparison to Barret, a point of contention regarding his nomination as group leader. However, he held his tongue and decided that putting his resentment to one side and helping Cloud take the first step of the crusade would be worth more than the former SOLDIER may ever realise
"Awright, then!" Barret declared, tossing a backpack to his blonde comrade so that they might undertake their odyssey. "We're outta here…"
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