VII

CHAPTER VII

BROTHERS IN ARMS

The downpour had not faltered by morning and, despite begrudging his heed of Tseng's advice to take refuge within the West Gate of Mythril Mine overnight, Cloud was grateful that they had. The wind screamed wickedly beyond the entrance to the cavern, hurtling wave after wave of frosty rain against the mountainside. Embers of a small fire smouldered at the heart of the chamber, granting scant warmth to Aerith and Tifa who remained huddled by it, while Red XIII meandered along the circumference walls, sniffing and scrutinising the Mako-stained rock with intrigue. Barret and Cloud stood by the redbrick portico, sheltered from the storm as they strained their eyes to identify a path for which to proceed with the day's journey.

A lone and muddy gravel trail descended the cliff at an uncomfortable gradient, snaking down towards the vast Allemagne Plains, lined on both sides by jagged boulders and hazardous potholes. Even in the gloom, the shapes of deserted miners' tools lingered among the scree, smeared with rust and age, cast aside to rot forever. Through the shivering silver curtain of the gale, the fertile backdrop of the Continent could be seen, a far cry from the desolate Wastelands that surrounded Midgar. The green expanse of grassy moors and forests of pine disappeared into the west, melting below the dark heavens like an old watercolour painting.

With a sigh, Cloud lowered his head, glancing fleetingly back in the direction of the campfire, and Aerith. She seemed deep in conversation with Tifa, her pink dress pulled down over her bent knees, the cotton badly stained with grime. Her guise was playful and earnest, as if her outburst of condemnation regarding AVALANCHE's bombing of Mako Reactor1 had been but an act. Cloud knew better; he understood that in her heart, Aerith was conflicted, that she would never fully accept or forgive their actions. His focus loitered on the pair for a number of seconds, eventually disturbed by Barret's rumbling voice.

"What ya thinkin'?"

"How far would you say Junon is from here?" he responded, his expression troubled as he turned away, gesturing towards the wilderness.

"You reckon that Turk was tellin' the truth 'bout where Sephiroth is headed?" Barret followed.

"It makes sense," Cloud frowned. "He'll be able to cross the ocean from there."

"Well, on foot, it's probably more than a week to Junon."

"That's what I estimated, too," he nodded grimly, slapping his palm against the brick. "We don't have enough supplies to last us a week."

"What we gonna do?"

"We don't have much choice," said Cloud. "We'll have to take a detour, but we gotta be careful now that Shinra are watching our every move."

"What about Fort Condor?" Barret suggested with a whisper, as if its very mention would alarm the others.

"The Reactor?" Cloud hissed disdainfully. "Your idea of avoiding the Army and the Turks is to march straight into a Shinra facility?"

"So, that blank memory's not just for show?"

"Huh?"

"Fort Condor ain't exactly run by the Shinra nowadays," he grinned defiantly, punching the air like a boxer. "Heard the villagers there rebelled. Them folks've been a thorn in the Company's side for years. If anyone's gonna help us out, they will."

"I dunno," Cloud answered contemplatively, "it's pretty far south. Though, with all the other distractions the military's facing, it's unlikely they would track us there."

"The way I see it, we need food an' somewhere we can plan our next move," shrugged Barret. "Fort Condor's the kinda place that'd welcome AVALANCHE with open arms, and oughtta have stockpiles we can buy from."

Cloud fell silent as he considered the proposal, mentally mapping the route across the country. The Fjordland due west of their location formed two great inlets - Siren Bay and Wyvern Sound - that spanned more than a hundred miles each, meaning that direct passage from Fort Condor to Junon was impossible, and would ultimately add several days onto their journey. However, Barret was right: the five would be safest at an anti-Shinra stronghold. Finally deciding on their course of action, he prepared to unveil his commands to the group but, as he traipsed down the stone steps of the ingress, he could not resist muttering to himself under his breath.

"Not all of us belong to AVALANCHE…"

By late afternoon of the second day since escaping the haunting bleakness of the Midgar Mountains and the arduous hike that ensued down its rugged and treacherous bluffs, the tempest had yet to subside, slowing their progress. The battering rain on the nylon roofs of the tents and their fierce struggle to remain grounded against the relentless squall had taken its toll on the vitality of the company, and the general spirit was low. Dismantling their temporary encampment that morning had proven a much greater challenge than ever as they slid around on the sodden grassland, often losing their footing and sinking into the mud. Cloud's clothes were damp, clinging unpleasantly to his skin, and most of the blonde spikes of his hair drooped heavily by the side of his face, some reaching his shoulder pauldron.

With the mist-covered peaks of the mountains now many miles behind, the slog through the southern fields revealed little in the way of civilisation, and only a handful of distant farmhouses or roads. The rolling hills of Allemagne were less than ideal for such a trek, and there came no improvement when at last the first tell-tale signs of a barren landscape appeared on the horizon, forming the unofficial borders of the Mako Reactor's territory. The Fort Condor facility was less than a decade old, but its devastating and disfiguring effects were already far-reaching, leaving the soil stale and lifeless.

The sullen Spriggan Fells that surrounded the Reactor seemed parched despite the obvious torrent they had endured in the last forty-eight hours. What remnants of vegetation may have survived the initial Mako extraction had long since vanished, only to be replaced by mutated weeds and arid loam. Aerial scavenger harriers circled overhead like vultures, their azure wings angled to surf the wind nimbly, stalking the five as they gradually scaled the inhospitable rises, their beady eyes small and dissecting, constantly anticipating a betrayal of weakness.

The obstinate incline brought them to an altitude where the climb became more than a ramble, but the party trudged on regardless, clawing at the precipice for support as they clambered around its bulging frame. The hardened mud beneath their feet crumbled with almost every step, causing tiny pieces to tumble down the overhang into the gullies below. Only with the coming of dusk did the clouds eventually begin to part, sweeping the rain to the north, allowing the cool winter sun to sneak out from behind its pallid curtain for a short time before vanishing beyond the Wyvern Sound. It was then that the party's diminished mental state was relieved, and the ascent became progressively easier and less tiresome.

When after several hours upon the wilderness they arrived at the crest of the Spriggan Fells, the group was met by a spectacular vista. Though dwarfed by the Midgar Mountains, the summit offered a panorama view of the Allemagne Plains and the sandy beaches that lay far to the south, snaking and shaping the coastline of the Eastern Continent. All was swathed in the fiery orange and magenta glow of a spellbinding sunset, its very sight a privilege that granted significant consolation to the wretchedness of the day's travel.

"It's so beautiful…" Aerith had gasped, tears welling in her eyes as she knelt at the edge of the headland, her hands clasped together in prayer. "The world beyond the Slums is much more magical than I ever could've imagined."

"One of life's wonders," Red XIII had agreed, peering up at Barret, whose bristly features had become somewhat melancholic as he stared absently out over the country, lost in the memories of a private past.

Darkness of night slowly skulked up the slopes, and the party continued on, grateful to discover the road ahead to be relatively flat and less troublesome. The elevated ridge proceeded due west until, against the fading purple twilight, the magnificent silhouette of Fort Condor emerged amid the hilltops, towering above all else like a vigilant sentinel. They gaped in astonishment as the village and accompanying facility came into view, pausing briefly to admire the strange sight.

Fort Condor was a settlement that had been established many generations before within the sprawling network of rock passages and grottos that existed beneath the fells. The region had long been famed for the colony of rare, gargantuan Condors which once resided there, dominating the grasslands with their majestic flocks, and drawing enthusiasts from around the globe wishing to pay homage to so regal a creature. The birdwatchers sought not to disturb the Condors' habitat, and so a small community was formed below the surface of the peaks, flourishing over time into a thriving hamlet that utilised openings in the cliffside to observe the animals. However, the Shinra Electric Power Company had other plans. All this Cloud knew, both from his own military past and the scraps of information Barret had shared.

Towards the end of [µ]-εγλ, the corporation built a Mako Reactor at Fort Condor, the majority of the complex structure also enclosed within the tor. Only the bulbous shell at its head was visible, protruding hideously from the highest pinnacle of the Spriggan Fells, a mass of decayed pipes slithering in and out of the soil around it. Pale green fumes drifted into the atmosphere from the domed chimney of the industrial furnace, its exterior adorned with the Company's insignia, the red Shinra Diamond.

The facility's very presence was a paradox: a vast synthetic power plant, created to drain the energy of the Planet, housed inside this hollow, natural bastion. Rumours had spread that the extraordinary birds had migrated elsewhere after the Reactor's completion and, despite its uniqueness and impressive innovation, the settlement soon after became nothing more than lodgings for the complex's personnel. As such, the marvel that awaited the party atop the scaling steel crown was enough to take their breath away.

The enormous Condor perched on the roof of the Mako Reactor, its broad body hunched forward and wings wrapped around the building's circumference like a protective partition, and huge tail suspended at the side of the hilltop for balance. Even by the waning light of dusk, they could distinguish the sleek brown and tawny feathers that covered its entire form, at least two-hundred feet in length, but for its bald face and curved golden beak. The glorious creature was almost completely motionless, its narrowed eyes trained hypnotically on whatever rested at the heart of the cocoon it had fashioned.

"Damn!" Barret shook his head in disbelief, unable to take his gaze from the scene, finally breaking the awed silence that had befallen the group. "That's one big bird…"

"I've never seen anything like it," whispered Tifa, enchanted.

"Did you know about this?" Cloud asked sceptically, frowning as he turned towards Barret. "Is that why you brought us here?"

"Not a clue," he replied, holding a hand up to protest his innocence. "I swear."

"I do not wish to ruin this wondrous moment," Red XIII interrupted suddenly, "but, I should mention that someone is approaching."

"What can you see?" said Cloud, his senses alert.

"Three men, each carrying a torch," he answered flatly, squinting in the direction of the raised citadel. "They appeared moments ago from a concealed recess and, by the haste with which they are moving, I would assume they intend to question us."

"Then, let's not disappoint them," Cloud grunted, taking a second to check his sword and backpack were secure before striding along the ridge. "C'mon."

A weathered track gradually began to take shape among the haphazard outcrops, whose shaded and ancient surfaces were smeared with shrivelled moss and ingrained bird faeces. Slight traces in the dried mud of horse hooves or chocobo talons indicated that the pathway was not frequently used, particularly in the sections where the incline was rough. A selection of smooth rocks had been placed at regular intervals in such parts to craft a makeshift stairwell, narrowing the road to bottleneck its traffic. It was not long before flickering orange light illuminated the massif a short distance in front of the group, the trail ahead guarded by the trio Red XIII had spoken of.

Cloud slowed as he saw one of the men step forward, pointing his torch at the company as if to halt them within its radiance. He was tall with a muscular physique, handsome and bronze-skinned, clad in beige garments of cotton and patched leather that exposed his bare arms and chest. His associates wore similar outfits which seemed to have been made with what few materials were available to the villagers, all of them with matching white bandanas tied around their shaven heads. They were unarmed, though the smallest of them had a decorative gunlance strapped to his back, reflecting his Far Eastern or Wusheng heritage.

"Who goes there?" boomed the large man. "Identify yourselves!"

"We're AVA-" declared Barret in an assertive tone, his words immediately breaking off as he felt Cloud's elbow jab sharply against his waist. "Hey!"

"I'll do the talking," Cloud hissed through gritted teeth, scowling at his comrade.

"Well?" pried the speaker.

"We mean you no harm," he answered, offering a submissive palm and shuffling aside so that the torchlight revealed the entire party. The man's cautious glare crept over the five, hesitating slightly when Aerith gave him a cheerful wave, falling suspiciously on the Buster Sword and Barret's gun-arm.

"State your business!"

"We've journeyed from the mines," explained Cloud, his voice composed and consciously passive, "but we're running short on provisions. We'd hoped to buy some here, or even find a bed for the night."

"Wayfarers, huh?" he scoffed, exchanging an unimpressed glance with his friends. "It doesn't look much like it to me. Have you seen combat?"

"Some."

"You lie!" spat the man from Wutai, his catfish-like moustache flaring. In the swiftest of motions, he drew his gunlance, its bayonetted barrel aimed at Cloud's head. "That emblem on your belt, you think I don't know it? You're a SOLDIER!"

"Former," Cloud corrected him, unflinching. "I'm nothing more than a mercenary now."

"A SOLDIER for hire, you say?" the tall man raised an eyebrow, reaching behind him and gently lowering his comrade's weapon. "So, you're no longer affiliated with the Shinra?"

"That's right."

"What proof do you have?" snarled the Wusheng, his dark eyes burning with hatred.

"That's enough, Mu," the speaker ordered, nodding pensively as he studied the group, his jaw stern. After a few seconds, he swung his torch towards the ascending path, gesturing for them to continue their hike. "Come, then, travellers. You must be weary…"

Cloud and the others were led up the remaining stretch in single file, their aching legs driving against the gradient, relieved only by what few stone steps jutted from the infertile ground. The large man introduced himself as Tristoner, Commander of Fort Condor's Volunteer Corps, and gave the impression he was increasingly keen to display a hospitable manner with every pace. This irritated Mu, who had reluctantly returned his gunlance to its holster while he shadowed the visitors, the oriental patterns of its beautifully carved butt matched only by the ferocity of its silver blade.

Nearing the Reactor entrance, they arrived at a somewhat secret fork in the road, masked from anyone not searching for it. A second, much leaner track deviated from the main path, sloping downward and looping around the jagged precipice of the ridge. Even by the brightness of day, the ledge would have remained clandestine as it circled below the looming shell of the industrial furnace, winding among the arcing cylinders that channelled excess waste from the site. It soon brought them to a cramped cave buried within the rock, no wider than twenty-five feet in diameter, its dusty walls absorbing the torchlight.

"We've been fighting the Shinra on this battlefield for a long time," exhaled Tristoner, stopping at the centre of the hollow and placing a firm hand on Cloud's shoulder. "Even after all these years, we're still settled in for an enduring war with them."

"Why?" asked Tifa, her teeth chattering in the seeping cold.

"Perhaps Master Zemzelett should be the one to explain that to you," Tristoner replied.

"Who…?" mumbled Barret, frowning as the commander kicked one of the stones nestled by the foot of the wall, causing it to slide backwards.

The soft sound of air being released was heard, followed by a mechanical grinding as a wooden ladder dropped gracefully down in front of them, lowered from a platform that had been hidden in the dimness overhead. Aerith clapped excitedly, her mouth hanging open in fascination, while Red XIII inspected it with uncertainty. Stepping forward, Tristoner grabbed a hold of the worn rungs with one arm and, stifling a satisfied grin, held the other aloft.

"Welcome to Fort Condor," he said. "Make yourselves at home."

Climbing the ladder proved no easy feat, particularly for the feline beast who required assistance from Barret despite a notable attempt using only his own paws. The apprehensive Mu insisted that he wait behind to ensure they were alone, joining the others in the raised corridor when he was content there was no external threat. The passage beyond was blocked by a hulking rusty door of solid iron, anchored to the walls by bolts larger than human fists. Tristoner knocked once.

"Dreams of the morrow hath the shattered soul," a muffled voice resounded from the opposite side.

"Pride is lost," responded the commander, reciting the password, "wings stripped away, the end is nigh."

"You may enter," the gatekeeper said, his words drowned out by the sharp clang of the dated lock.

Cloud blinked hard as he was bathed in white light, shielding his eyes while being ushered inside. The adjacent hallway was laden with blazing electric bulbs, connected by several wires that hung from nail hooks, and the occasional hint of encased piping. Tristoner guided them through the underground thoroughfare, keeping to the central route as it twisted this way and that, shadows dancing on every corner under the buzzing lamplight.

Countless more passages branched into the darkened labyrinthine depths of the former village or Mako Reactor complex, while others simply accessed bare storerooms and dishevelled living quarters. A vivid sense of adversity clung to the thick air, spawned by the destitute and almost wholly abandoned stronghold, though chaperoned by an unyielding resoluteness. At the end of the corridor was a cragged staircase that had been shaped manually from the rock, and at its height was a sizable cavern: Fort Condor's core of activity.

The hub consisted of two levels, one approximately five feet above the other, connected by a set of frail timber steps towards the rear of the area. Its natural stone walls were draped in sheets of worn steel and corroded bronze, dotted with flashing neon signs that would have befitted the marketplaces of Midgar's Slums, and an array of flags and banners bearing anything from Wusheng kanji to swords and axes. A blanket of ashen sawdust covered the floor, softening their footsteps and disguising the coarse settings below the sunken ceiling. It was furnished only by a handful of low wooden tables and an obsolete greybrick well with an odd-looking miniature crane, but was host to what seemed like the entirety of the settlement's inhabitants.

Dozens of men were collected inside the chamber, conversing in groups, playing card games or simply relaxing around the benches. As expected, they too were clothed in the same generic beige outfits, each of them with a shaven head and bandana, but a variety of ethnicities. Most succumbed to nosiness as the party entered, their attention drawn to the strange new arrivals, particularly the females that accompanied them. Cloud felt Aerith press her dainty body against his, intimidated by the stares of those whose vows to protect Fort Condor probably also meant celibacy.

Ignorant of this and in no mood to explain the situation, the commander marched across the hub and up the creaking stairs to the second level, the others at his heels as he strode through the doorway to a neighbouring room. A selection of dining tables were arranged around the space, overlooked by a pair of sturdy pinewood cabinets with clay plates and bowls stacked on their shelves. A lone figure sat at the farthest corner of the mess hall, his back to the company, resting his chin on his clasped hands as he bowed his head in quiet meditation.

Approaching him, Tristoner leaned over his shoulder and whispered something into his ear. With a nod of acknowledgment, the man unhurriedly revolved on his stool to gaze upon the travellers through curious eyes, forcing a quivering but warm smile on his wrinkled face. He was wrapped in a ragged white shawl, his wispy hair hidden beneath a pointed non, but his appearance did not otherwise suggest fragility.

"So," he said after a few moments, his northern accent like a soothing melody, "you're the ones we spied from the watchtower, aye?"

"You knew we was comin'?" asked Barret, casting a tentative glance at Cloud.

"You should be more careful, my friends," sighed the old man, motioning to Red XIII's flaring tail, "we detected that flame from many miles away."

"We'll keep that in mind," Cloud muttered, mentally scolding himself.

"Allow me to introduce myself," he said. "My name is Zemzelett, leader of this motley crew."

"Cloud Strife."

"So, Master Strife, Commander Tristoner tells me you're an ex-SOLDIER," Zemzelett continued, tilting forward with intrigue. "Your eyes are definitely different…you have the mark."

"They've been infused with Mako," Cloud clarified.

"Now, this sure is somethin'…" he murmured, his features brightening. "I must say, it's a pleasant surprise to find that someone actually climbed up here, never mind a lad with your expertise."

"We were simply looking to shelter here for tonight."

"Of course you were," the old man bowed humbly, indicating to the vacant seats of his table. "And that will most certainly be arranged. Now, come, join me."

"Thank you," Cloud replied politely, urging his colleagues forward.

"Madouge," Zemzelett called, addressing the third guard to have escorted the party, "would you be so kind as to notify Tonberry that we have guests? Supper and clean sheets are in order."

"Yes, father, right away," answered the man, turning and disappearing back through the ingress.

As instructed, the five took their places on either side of Zemzelett, with Red XIII slumping on the floor by the feet of Aerith, one by one sharing their names. Tristoner announced his leave so that he may attend to his duties, while Mu remained as sentry at the head of the mess hall, his uncompromising stare fixed on them. The old man waited patiently for the visitors to settle in their chairs, the hard and grooved wood less than luxurious. It was Tifa who spoke first.

"We're very grateful for your generosity," she smiled sincerely. "We've been on the road for a long time."

"Yeah," snorted Barret, nodding towards the doorway, "though not everyone's happy 'bout it."

"Pay no attention to Master Mu," Zemzelett chuckled, peering over his shoulder. "He was an Imperial Guard during the Wutai War, and later part of the resistance under the Crescent Unit. As you might imagine, he has quite a bone to pick with SOLDIER. Whatever you do, don't mention the Battle of the Zephyr Heathlands."

"This place seems quite diverse," perceived Cloud. "Your accent…you're not from around here either, are you?"

"Indeed not, lad," Zemzelett's gaze lowered for a fleeting second, as if recalling a long-forgotten memory. "My son and I come from a little town in the Modeo region, not too far from the Permafrost Glaciers. We moved to Fort Condor many years ago, after his mother died, to live somewhere that reminded us of the beauty in nature. We were at peace, but…I suppose it was only a matter of time before the Company recognised that there was profit to be made in such beauty."

"You mean Shinra?" asked Tifa.

"Precisely, Miss Lockhart, precisely"

"The hell those jackasses do to this place?" spat Barret as he pounded his gun-arm on the table-top, startling the small man who had entered the room carrying a tray of food. He was squat in stature with a face like a lizard, and bulging eyes that reflected the lamplight.

"It would appear you have a problem with Shinra, too," concluded Zemzelett, waving the man forward. "This interests me. However, why don't we wait until Master Tonberry has served dinner before you listen to what I have to say?"

"Oh, by all means," Tifa beamed eagerly.

Swiftly and proficiently, the cook distributed the steaming bowls of boiled rice and seasoned mushrooms, and poured mugs of filtered water from a pewter jug. Cloud noted the chef's knife tucked under his hooded maroon robes, the carving blade clearly doubling as a concealed weapon. He had grown concerned by the direction of the conversation, wary of what information Zemzelett may be seeking to extract from them. Since escaping Midgar, he had maintained that to reveal their identities as part of AVALANCHE, or that they were fugitives of Shinra, Inc., or that they had a survivor of the Cetra among them, would undoubtedly lead to unwanted questions.

"Commander Tristoner told us you're at war with the Shinra," Aerith roused Cloud from his musings, her words subdued somewhat by a mouthful of rice. "Is that true?"

"Sadly…aye," Zemzelett exhaled uneasily. "Aye, it is true."

"What's goin' on?" probed Barret, his beard matted with juices. Zemzellet paused for a number of seconds, carefully contemplating how to begin before finally bringing the prolonged silence to a close in a low and earnest tone.

"Do you know what sits at the top of this mountain?"

"The Reactor and the Condor," Cloud frowned.

"It sure is something…" Aerith added, her eyes glazed in wonder.

"I can see you're very perceptive," chortled Zemzelett with a charming grin and amicable hint of sarcasm. "You are exactly right."

"So…the Shinra're tryin' to…get ridda the bird?" Barret deduced as he shovelled food into his ravenous mouth, his sentence separated by each spoonful. "But, why?"

"Well…" started Zemzelett, "when the Company first approached Fort Condor about building a Mako facility here, they were full of what were later revealed to be empty promises. 'We will respect the sanctity of these creatures' home', they told us. 'Help them and help yourselves by signing up as maintenance workers', they told us. And, for what?

"When the Reactor was completed, us villagers were charged with overseeing its daily operation for terrible pay and worse conditions. We were determined to minimise the ecological damage to these rare animals, but a few months later, the entire colony had fled to fresh and foreign pastures, driven from this land by the disastrous harm to the local plantation. Most of us had grown to love the Condors, and a large section of our community had first come here on an expedition to admire them. We were devastated until, as the will of the Gods would have it, something unexpected happened-"

"A Condor returned," hailed Barret elatedly, evidently inspired by wildlife overcoming the recklessness of his adversaries.

"Correct, Master Wallace," Zemzelett nodded, a shrewd smirk forming on his lips. "When the Condors came back, the Shinra dispatched their troops and roboguards here, even some of their SOLDIERs. The military wanted to get all the villagers off these hills so that they could slaughter the birds…but, we wouldn't let them. We had sacrificed too much to just allow these mindless drones to follow greedy and insane commands. And so, we stood our ground, barricading ourselves inside this fortress. We sent our wives and children to the towns outside Junon, away from this madness, and resigned ourselves to our fate. That was around six years ago, when our battle with the Corporation really began."

"It seems Shinra doesn't like the idea of having a Condor on top of their facility," said Tifa, engrossed in the account. "I don't get it, what's so wrong with that?"

"Well, as it turns out," he replied, folding his arms, "there's a special type of Materia at the Reactor core. President Shinra, may he rest in peace, was so terrified that something might happen to his business' treasure that the Army was ordered to recover it. They attacked us time and again, using many different strategies. And not only them…militia from all kinds of organisations. But, we have held out thus far."

"So, what happened?" asked Cloud. "Why did you guys go to such lengths to defend this place? Why didn't you just hand over the Materia to Shinra?"

"Because of our honour," shrugged the old man, his expression determined. "The Company paid us to keep the Reactor running, so that's what we did. It's what we still do and, while Shinra's focus is pulled in other directions, there's a sort of status quo that makes us a low priority. But, it won't last. This is why we have devoted ourselves to the cause; our lifestyle is a discipline. Our fight wasn't about Mako or the Huge Materia, it was about protecting the Condors-"

"Why do keep saying 'Condors'?" Aerith interrupted with scepticism. "We only saw one."

"That, my dear," illuminated Zemzelett, "is also why it's so important that we retain control of the mountain. Did any of you happen to notice the particular posture that our feathery brown friend takes?"

"You mean the defensive stance?" Cloud responded, recalling his earlier observation.

"Bravo, Master Strife," clapped Zemzelett with reverence. "Your attention to detail is remarkable. Aye, the Condor that roosts upon the facility is, in fact, a mother. She is guarding and warming her egg, and that is the very reason she returned in the first place. Condors' eggs take a few years to hatch, which is why we have lingered in this village for so long; it is our duty to keep them from being harmed, and save our own home in the process."

"Those eggs are a real miracle of nature," agreed Tifa, brushing the dark locks from her face and clenching her fists with purpose. "We've got to help preserve the lives of the Planet, especially the endangered ones."

"So, to protect the Condor's egg, you must protect the Reactor?" Aerith summarised, slowly comprehending the situation.

"I'll do it!" roared Barret, spitting grains of rice across the table. "We'll protect them from the Shinra."

"The rest of you have combat experience also?" Zemzelett tilted his head in curiosity and, before Cloud could stop him, Barret answered with pride and boastful assertion.

"Of course," he boomed, "we're AVALANCHE."

"AVALANCHE…?" gulped the man, sharing a fleeting look of concern with Mu. He seemed to withdraw slightly, his expression timid, cowering from the group. "You mean…you're the terrorists who attacked Midgar? Or are you from the older faction?"

"It's not what you think…" Tifa intervened hastily. "You've probably heard a lot of propaganda and lies."

"Then, just so we're clear, are you telling me that AVALANCHE did not detonate a bomb at the heart of the city's main Reactors?" scowled Zemzelett with disdain. "Or that it did not result in the deaths of more than two-hundred civilians?"

"That…that was an accident…" she stammered, her lips trembling. "The bomb wasn't supposed to be so big. You have to believe us…"

"And what about your destruction of Sector7?" he asked scornfully. "Was that an accident, too?"

"What happened in Sector7 wasn't them…" Aerith opposed sternly, the ferocity in her tone startling those around table as she sat forward, her pale green gaze burning into Zemzelett's, "it was Shinra. I'm not part of AVALANCHE, but I was there; I saw what the Turks did. If it hadn't been for these three, even more people would have been killed that night. Some of their friends died defending the Pillar, so show some respect!"

"Even if what you say is true," Zemzelett stroked his chin, glaring at the so-called revolutionaries, "you have still murdered in the name of justice for the Planet. You have murdered the very people you claim to fight for. To me, you are no better than the Shinra Company."

"Now, wait just a godsdamn minute!" thundered Barret, his argument so loud that Mu reached again for his gunlance.

"Did you even consider what you would do if you toppled the Corporation?" he tested the giant. "What are your plans for alternative energy? How do you expect people to fuel their homes? Or feed their families? What happens to the infrastructure when the Mako Reactors fail?"

"I've got some ideas…"

"The way I see it," he persisted, "all your actions would achieve is to cripple the economy. Has it even crossed your mind that irrespective of Shinra's greed, the populace might have weighed up their easy lifestyle against the damage to the Planet, and decided it was something they were willing to compromise?"

"That's not their call to make!" Barret fumed.

"And who's call is it?" snorted Zemzelett, rolling his eyes sardonically. "Yours?"

"I come from a coal mining town," he replied. "When I was a kid, we used coal to power our vehicles, heat our houses, or give us light in the winter months. Sure, it was hard work an' things moved slower, but that don't mean it shouldn't be done. An' who knows what other stuff like oil can do? I hear Shinra have a few prototype engines that run on gasoline. Ain't there still some refineries in the West?"

"There hasn't been enough modern research done on these fossil fuels," the old man countered. "For all we know, excessive use could cause more harm to the Planet than Mako. What about renewable energy? Wind power? Solar power?"

"Truth is, I don't got an answer," Barret hung his head, his mighty shoulders sagging. "All I know is, I'm on a pilgrimage to Cosmo Canyon…I got a promise to keep to some kids who ain't with us no more. An' I wanna learn from the elders; I wanna learn how to be a better person; I wanna learn how to save the Planet without hurtin' anyone…"

"Our quarrel's with Shinra," Tifa maintained, her large eyes pleading forgiveness. "Sometimes innocent people get caught in the crossfire and we have to carry that burden, but we can't let it get in the way of our goal. We can't give up; we have to meet our enemy head-on. Surely you appreciate that?"

"Therein lies the predicament in which the Fort Condor Volunteer Corps finds itself," Zemzelett quietened his voice, as if fraught by shame for his rushed conclusions and the subsequent row. "Unfortunately, we don't have the ability to engage Shinra in conflict ourselves. At any minute, this place could become a battlefield so, over the years, we have simply hired mercenaries to help us. It wasn't too hard after the War, as the scattered remnants of the Imperial Army, such as Master Mu here, were happy to aid us against the Company. I mean, how do you think we ended up with so many Wusheng in our ranks? But, now-"

"So, this was your plan, was it?" Cloud growled, suddenly understanding Tristoner's abrupt insistence on behaving hospitably. "Lure us in here so you could get something in return?"

"Aye…" Zemzelett whispered solemnly, making no effort to deny the claim, his firm stare trained on the former SOLDIER.

"Then, tell me," he demanded through gritted teeth, "what are you asking of us?"

"It doesn't matter," Tifa piped in, placing a calming hand on Cloud's wrist, anxious to ease the escalating tension. "We'll help you."

"Really?" the old man coughed, taken aback by her enthusiasm. "Even after everything I've said?"

"What's there to think about?" endorsed Barret, nodding furiously. "Y'all want the same things we do."

"Um…well…" stuttered Zemzelett, his thick brows furrowed, "sponsorship can come in the shape of a donation or by fighting alongside us when the need arises. Will…will you join us?"

"Cloud…?" posed Tifa, gently tightening her grip on his arm. The party's leader sat without sound; his gaze vacant; his chest barely heaving as he breathed; the uncertainty of the decision and downright refusal to compromise his own goals smothering his judgment.

"Why are you still even worrying about it?" Aerith snapped, frustrated by his hesitation. "Don't be so wishy-washy. Hurry up and make up your mind!"

"I'd like to help, but-"

"C'mon, man," pressed Barret, "if they want our services, we gotta do it!"

"How?" he disputed, shrugging incredulously. "We make for Junon tomorrow, and we're not coming back. We don't have a lot of gil to spare so funding is out of the question, and we can't fight if we're not here!"

"To hell with that!" Barret bellowed. "I won't just abandon our brothers in a war 'gainst the Shinra. Remember, Spiky, we ain't all on this crusade for the same reasons as you! If I can be useful 'ere...then, I ain't gonna decline!"

"Be realistic!" retorted Cloud. "We can't handle Shinra on two fronts!"

"I don't mean that, man," Barret groaned impatiently. "These folks don't expect that neither."

"It makes no difference!"

"Yes, it does…" said Barret, his entire demeanour shifting, softening his gruff voice. "They don't want us to give what we don't have; they don't want us to be knights in shinin' armour; all they want's our support...a promise not to ignore their plight..."

"Please…" Tifa begged, mouthing the word so that only Cloud could hear. Studying the room, he glimpsed the anticipation on the faces of those around him, and knew that he was outnumbered. "We can't possibly leave these people like this. Let's do what we can, alright?"

"Whatever…" he conceded, sighing in defeat.

"Yes!" cheered Aerith, rubbing Red XIII's mane jubilantly. "We'll do our best! For the sake of the Condors, we can't afford to be beaten."

"You are most kind, Miss Gainsborough," Zemzelett beamed, removing his non to reveal tufts of white hair, and holding it to his chest in an honourable gesture, "as are you all. I respect your concern, but do not fret that you have offended me or my men, for it is not easy to argue such a strong opinion. If you cannot contribute financially to our cause, we will gladly accept the skills of an ex-SOLDIER. We have seen many able warriors come and go in our clashes with Shinra, but you, Master Strife, are in a different league entirely."

"Hey, we'll all come to the rescue!" Barret declared petulantly, spinning the barrels of his gatling-gun. "He ain't the only one who can kick Shinra's ass!"

"Of course not," chuckled Zemzelett, offering an apologetic hand as he turned to the guard, his features brimming with delight. "Master Mu, please send for a bottle of our finest wine. The hour draws late and we must soon retire to our bunks. But, before we do, let us tonight make a toast to the bonds of a new friendship, one which I believe will prove most decisive…"

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