XI

CHAPTER XI

FRAGMENTED MEMORIES

The narrow street guided them north through the town, the ground gradually inclining as they walked between houses of limestone and timber. The old oak shutters of windows and doors had been bolted closed on many of the homes, their hinges clattering in the whispering wind, the resonance broken only by the eerie chimes of swaying bells. Had it not been for the ghostly chimney smoke drifting from each of the buildings, they may have considered Nibelheim abandoned.

The squad was brought after a while to the wide town square, wispy mists of dust swirling nonchalantly at their feet as it was blown to and fro in the mild draught. The water tower at the centre of the forum was as Cloud remembered it; the shanty wooden frame that encased the well's pump was holding solid despite decades of rot, the small turbine at its height rotating hesitantly. Various stores and traditional shops marked the circumference of the area, their signage grimy and tattered as if they had remained unkempt for a great length of time. To their immediate left, there stood the grand building of Gramps' Inn. It had become a local legend in previous years for the splendour of the three-bedroom annex that extended out over the main portico, somewhat spectacular amongst the duplication of the neighbouring structures.

"The place is oddly quiet," Cloud concluded, surveying the deserted square.

"Too quiet," agreed Sephiroth.

"Everyone must be staying in their houses, afraid to come out because of the monsters."

"Maybe it's us they're afraid of," muttered Sephiroth, his nose twitching. "The stench of Mako is pretty bad here."

Crossing the short distance to the tavern, they came suddenly to a halt as the twin doors swung open, both SOLDIERs hastily drawing their weapons. A female Turk strode from the entrance, her straight brown hair bouncing in a ponytail behind her as she approached the party. She was small in stature, the black suit jacket of her uniform taut around her petite figure. With a smile and flicker of her sparkling hazel eyes, she holstered the automatic shotgun she carried, and quickly saluted Sephiroth.

"Samantha?" Cloud laughed in astonishment.

"Hey, Cloud," beamed the girl. "How are you?"

"I'm good," he said. "And you? It's been a while."

"A long while," added the young infantryman, his voice tinny through his mask.

"Huh?" stammered Cloud, gazing confusedly between his friend and the Turk. "You two know each other, too?"

"We've worked together once before," Samantha recalled. "Still using that rifle, I see?"

"Enough of this," snapped Sephiroth, angrily slamming the Masamune back into its scabbard. "Have you anything new to report?"

"No, sir," answered Samantha, unfazed by his impatience. "Nothing has changed in the last three days. Everything has been arranged as planned."

"Good," nodded Sephiroth. "Then, we leave for the Reactor at dawn. We'll be spending a lot of time on foot tomorrow, so make sure you get to sleep early."

"What do you want us to do until then, sir?" asked the young Shinra soldier.

"We only need one lookout for the moment, so you can come with me just now," he instructed.

"And me?" said Cloud.

"You have permission to visit your family and friends, if you so wish," granted Sephiroth, turning and making a fleeting final inspection of his surroundings as he started towards the doorway of Gramps' Inn. "The other is on guard duty for the next four hours."

"Visit your family?" Samantha gawked in disbelief, watching as Sephiroth and the private disappeared inside. "Cloud…you're from Nibelheim?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Then it must be you."

"Samantha, what are you talking about?" he frowned.

"I met a girl here named Tifa," she said excitedly.

"You know Tifa?"

"I found her on the mountain after I got lost," explained Samantha. "She was up there chasing her cat. We helped each other out."

"What did she say?"

"When I told her I was from Shinra, she mentioned that she had a childhood friend called Cloud who left this town two years ago to become a SOLDIER. She asked about you."

"What did you tell her?"

"I said I didn't know," shrugged Samantha. "I couldn't be sure just by the name if it was the same Cloud. It seems the Planet is a smaller place than I thought."

"Not small enough for me to have seen her since I joined the Army," grumbled Cloud.

"You'll meet her again tomorrow."

"Huh?"

"I asked her to be our guide for the Reactor investigation."

"You did what?" spluttered Cloud. "So…she'll be travelling with us on the mountain?"

"That's generally what a guide does," Samantha stuck her tongue out sarcastically. "I'm sorry, but I really can't talk about it right now. Tseng is already breathing down my neck because I involved a civilian."

"What did you expect?"

"Look, I…uh…I have to go," she said hurriedly, failing to acknowledge the remark. "I…um…still have a lot of work to do. I'll see you around."

"Samantha, wait!" he called as she jogged off, pulling her portable terminal from the breast pocket of her suit.

"What is it?"

"Can you do me a favour?"

"It depends what it is," she folded her arms.

"If you see Tifa, don't tell her I'm back."

'That reminds me…' whispered the haunting voice, echoing deep within his thoughts.

"You again?" snarled Cloud. "Tell me who you are!"

'The answers are coming,' it deflected, reluctant to ease his torment. 'But, more importantly: five years ago…'

"Five years ago?" he muttered. "Nibelheim…?"

'The day you climbed Mount Nibel…the day you visited the old Mako Reactor there…Tifa was your guide, right?'

"Yeah…I was surprised. She'd been hired by the Turks."

'But, where was she other than that…?'

"I dunno…"

'It was a great chance for the two of you to meet up again.'

"I asked the Turks to keep my presence a secret."

'What about when Sephiroth vanished?' probed the voice. 'He was gone for more than a week, wasn't he?'

"Yeah…you're right."

'Why couldn't you have seen each other alone then?'

"I…I don't know…" Cloud stammered, his mind racing. "I can't remember clearly…"

'Why don't you try asking Tifa?'

"Yeah…"

'Then, get up!' it demanded. 'Wake up, Cloud!'

"Hey, sleepy head," he heard Tifa chime as she shook him gently, "wake up!"

Slowly coming to, Cloud rolled over on the soft mattress, gazing groggily up at her from beneath the floral-patterned feather duvet. Brushing her long, dark fringe from her face, she smiled warmly, her radiant beauty amplified in the golden rays of early morning light that poured through the windows. Her large brown eyes bore a mischievous look as she dragged the covers from the bed, dumping them in a heap on the carpet.

"Tifa…" he moaned, burying his nose in the pillow, still gripped by tiredness in the aftermath of the previous day's events.

The party had spent the night at the residence of Priscilla's grandparents, having been invited to stay following their rescue of the girl. Nana and Papa Dudley lived at the edge of the village - far enough from the commotion - in the detached timber building they had noticed as they entered Old Junon. Preparing a supper of beef stew for the guests, the elderly couple had granted them tenancy while they tended to Priscilla at her home near the heart of the hamlet, and the company had gratefully accepted.

"C'mon, lazy bones!" Tifa teased again, tossing Cloud his clothes.

"Tifa?" he croaked.

"Uh huh?"

"When Sephiroth and I came to Nibelheim," Cloud asked tentatively, "where were you?"

"We…uh…" she hesitated, the words catching in her throat as she clumsily picked up his boots from beside the smouldering redbrick fireplace. "We saw each other, right?"

"Other than when we were on the mountain."

"Cloud, I…" gulped Tifa, her voice quivering as she stood with her back to him. "No…it was too long ago. I don't remember."

"But-"

"We can discuss it another time," she urged, hastily crossing the bedroom. "There's something strange going on outside. You'd better come quick. Hurry up and get dressed."

Without waiting for a response, she scurried out into the first floor hallway towards the staircase, the walls reverberating as she slammed the front door of the house moments later. Sitting up, Cloud grabbed his sleeveless poloneck and pulled it down over his head, blinking heavily as he tried to shield himself from the blinding sunrise. His focus instead passed over the framed painting of the River Ironite; the elemental religious icon atop the mantelpiece; the blurred photograph of a blonde teenager, already noted as Mireille's other granddaughter, Kyrie, who Aerith seemed to be acquainted with from her church in the Midgar Slums. All the while he replayed Tifa's curious shift in behaviour.

Why did she leave so suddenly? Why hadn't she answered his question? Was she hiding something…or was the suffering of her father's murder simply still too fresh? I guess I'll know soon enough…

With a lasting yawn, he dismissed the musings and shuffled out of bed, gathering the rest of his outfit from the rug. When he was ready, he trudged downstairs into the open-plan lounge and dining area. A round oak table dominated the centre of the space, flanked by a striped green sofa and glass cabinet respectively, and cleared of the dishes from the evening's meal which had since been piled in the kitchen sink. The repetitive ticking of the aged grandfather clock resonated around the room as he made for the porch entrance, drowned out immediately as he stepped outside.

Cloud stopped dead in his tracks, the blaring parade music reaching his ears for the first time. The unending composition of an unseen marching band enveloped the cove, played through the speakers that hung from the towering concrete support columns along the cliffside, the din of trumpets and bass drums at such an early hour rapidly aggravating him.

Many of Old Junon's denizens had congregated on the main street, awed by the brass music, conversing animatedly in the looming shadow of the upper-city as they enjoyed the merry atmosphere. With purposeful strides, Cloud made his way down the cobbled road that led to the town square, ignoring the activity outside the antiquated homes or the curious stares that observed the illegal greatsword slotted to his back.

He found the others, as expected, by the paved quad, huddled beneath the synthetic glow of a vintage lamppost near the northwest corner of the Bottomswell General Store. They were accompanied by Mireille Dudley and her husband, as well as a moustached man who was lean in stature and well-presented, carrying a formal briefcase. Behind the building was a narrow lane leading to a flight of wooden steps which, in turn, ascended to one of the hillside houses whose veranda overlooked the sloping roof of the shop. Noticing his approach, Tifa glanced away nervously, bringing her discussion with Aerith to an abrupt halt.

"What the hell?" Cloud raised the volume of his voice over the ruckus as he joined the group. "What's with all the parade music?"

"It sounds like they're rehearsing the reception for the new President of Shinra, Inc," responded Mireille, still dressed in her purple frock, peering absently at the underside of the airbase. "The Junon Army have been organising it for almost three weeks now."

"Maybe we should go pay our regards?" Barret grunted sardonically. "Definitely somethin' big goin' on up there."

"Everything just got so loud all of a sudden," added Aerith. "It's kinda giving me a headache. Poor Priscilla won't get much rest with all this noise…"

"How is she?" Cloud asked, turning towards Nana and Papa Dudley. The pair had acted calm and composed around the party the previous evening, but they had undoubtedly been distressed by the situation, and their weary faces now bore the remnants of a sleepless night. It was, however, the moustached man who answered instead.

"She has regained consciousness, and is quite stable," he said eloquently, holding out a hand for Cloud to shake. "I'm Dr. Eugene Dimitri, the town physician. I heard what happened. You've done so much for Priscilla."

"I…uh…" he stammered. "Okay."

"That girl can be a bit feisty when she wants," continued Dr. Eugene, his tone sincere, "but she is very much loved by this community. We owe you our thanks."

"Sure."

"She was asking for you, you know," he grinned.

"Huh?"

"She wanted to know if her blonde knight was going to come and visit," the doctor elaborated, sharing an amused recollection with Mireille. "Between you and me, I think she has her heart set on marrying you one day."

"Aw, that's sweet," sniggered Aerith. "You'll make a lovely couple."

"Not interested."

"Ahem!"

The crowd spun to see Priscilla standing on the decked terrace of her elevated home, her hands pressed impatiently on her hips as she awaited their attention. Though her complexion remained unhealthily pale, the young girl's desire to investigate the commotion was a positive sign; this was recognised and not restricted by Dr. Eugene. Before anyone had the chance to stop her, she darted down the stairs towards the forum, her clementine sarong dancing about her tiny legs as she ran. Bursting past her grandparents, she threw her arms around Cloud's waist and hugged him.

"Whoa…" he mumbled hesitantly, uncertain of how to react, "are you alright?"

"Yup," she sighed affectionately, not letting go. "Thanks for…um…helping me…"

"Don't sweat it, kid," said Barret, cringing as Tifa elbowed him in the stomach.

"And…I…" Priscilla lowered her head, her cheeks a brilliant shade of scarlet, withdrawing to the security of her grandparents' embrace. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" queried Aerith.

"I mistook you all for members of the Shinra," she replied sheepishly, kicking at the dirt below her sandaled feet.

"That's alright," Aerith chuckled reassuringly. "You're not the first."

"Nana and papa told me the beach was so beautiful when they were small," explained Priscilla. "You could swim here, and whole dolphin pods came to play in the water. But, after the War, Old Junon was just abandoned. My family…everybody I know…they've had to live such hard lives. I was raised on that story and hate the Shinra so much I could...I could die!"

"But, this parade…why now?" Cloud frowned. With a whirlwind of flashing mental images, he considered the events of the night Sephiroth had slain the President while he and his comrades slept in the prison cells of Shinra Headquarters' Science Department. He remembered the butchered guard; the theft of the headless Jenova specimen; the sword that skewered the aged world leader; his own brief duel with Rufus before he escaped the building by helicopter. "Why is the Company having it today? Why here?"

"Accordin' to the media, it's a show of respect for the people o' Midgar," said Papa Dudley. "The city's in a terrible state after what happened to Sector7, an' a lot of people are afraid there'll be more terrorist attacks if President Rufus' inauguration ceremony takes place there."

"Shinra owns the newspapers," growled Barret. "We can't trust anythin' those bastards print."

"I agree," the old fisherman nodded. "I think they're doing it in Junon because so many employees an' their families were relocated here after the AVALANCHE attacks."

"No," Cloud refuted pensively, "there must be another reason."

"Rumour has it," proposed Dr. Eugene, "President Rufus plans to cross the ocean from here."

"Does that mean Sephiroth has already left the city?" asked Aerith, recoiling as Cloud shot her a fierce and silencing gaze.

"We gotta get to Upper Junon," Barret quickly changed the subject, motioning with his gun-arm towards the steel framework that soared from the bay. "Usin' the public elevator's out 'cause of the ID checkpoints, but what if we climbed one o' them towers?"

"No!" screamed Priscilla, startling everyone as she waved her arms wildly. Instantly realising her overreaction, she blushed again. "Sorry, but that's way too dangerous. There's a high-voltage current running through the fences at the bottom. Shinra don't want anyone sneaking into the city so they put electric barriers and warning signs everywhere. You shouldn't get too close."

"So, that's it?" Tifa shook her head. "There's no other way?"

"There's always a way, my dear," smiled Papa Dudley, the same devious expression as before crossing his frail face while he adjusted his bunnet. As he spoke, the rhythm of the brass music altered, quietening slightly, leaving the assembly to their own thoughts.

"Wait a minute!" Priscilla suddenly exclaimed, breaking the lull in conversation. "I think I have an idea!"

"What is it?" said Cloud.

"No time to talk," she squealed, dodging past him and ducking below the hanging blugu skeleton as she sprinted in the direction of the beach. "Hurry up! Follow me!"

"On that note, I shall bid you all farewell," bowed Dr. Eugene. "That girl will be right as rain."

"Of course," Mireille replied gratefully as he departed, "thank you for your kindness."

"My pleasure."

"And you lot should probably go after Priscilla," she urged with a smirk as her husband wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "She won't be impressed if you don't keep up…"

Rolling his eyes and exhaling, but acknowledging that their options were limited, Cloud trudged after the Dudleys' granddaughter, the others dawdling behind. The infantrymen defending the grand archway on the colossal bastion wall stood on either side of the mechanical gates, rifles drawn, but displayed no suspicion of the five as they crossed the dusty square. Passing the smaller waterfront cottages, they wound down the crooked steps and onto the derelict marina, cautiously navigating the rock pools and jagged, slippery terrain.

The cove appeared much darker now as the morning sun had yet to arc above the armoured city, meaning most of Bottomswell Bay still basked in the shade of Cape Formula's high bluffs. The ebbing tide of the lagoon had lost its wondrous glimmer, instead revealing the erosive oily pollution within. Far out to sea, almost a mile beyond the scaling skeletal structures that held the airstrip aloft, the long shadow of the Mako Cannon caressed the waves, a stark reminder of mankind's desolation of the Planet's landscapes.

Priscilla waited by the water's edge, her seashell whistle lodged between her lips, gesturing for them to hasten their advancement over the beach. As they neared, she gave a single sharp toot on the whistle, stepping back for them to admire the acrobatic demonstration. The silvery dolphin launched itself once more from the deeper depths, vaulting the electrified barricades of the scaffolding, and landed elegantly a short distance from the shore.

"I could watch that all day…" Barret murmured to himself.

"Pretty cool, huh?" beamed Priscilla, applauding the aquatic animal. "When I blow on this, Mr. Dolphin jumps for me."

"It's really somethin'…" agreed Barret.

"Here," said Priscilla, prancing over the rocks, taking the object from around her neck and holding it out in her palm, "this is for you, Cloud."

"Huh?" he raised an eyebrow, perplexed. "What am I supposed to do with it?"

"Well, you can't get to the top of the tower by climbing, right?" Priscilla enlightened him with a scoff and dumbfounded façade, speaking as if her plan was so simple that it did not require an explanation. "But, you might be able to if Mr. Dolphin helps."

"You mean you want me to use that dolphin to jump over the high-voltage barriers?" spluttered Cloud, gaping at the others in disbelief.

"Sounds tricky," Tifa shrugged, tapping her chin. "I guess only you could do it."

"What?"

"Yeah," giggled Aerith, "better leave it to the ex-SOLDIER. Aren't you guys trained for these types of situations?"

"Hey!" he snapped, turning to Barret and Red XIII.

"Don't look at us," dismissed the former, pointing from his gatling-gun to the deadpan beast. "We ain't exactly blessed with the bodies for somethin' like this."

"Don't worry," Priscilla insisted, pushing Cloud with all her might towards the lagoon. "Just go into the water, blow the whistle, and Mr. Dolphin will take you to the top of the pole."

"But-"

"Don't be such a baby," she scolded irritably. "If you get it just right, you can reach the airport using one of the ladders."

As the surf and a string of drifting seaweed lapped against his ankles, soaking his boots and khakis, Cloud stopped, causing the girl to slam into him from behind. Casting an apprehensive glance up at the steel girders that criss-crossed fifty feet overhead, he calculated the projection he would need to clear the supposed danger zone. He hung his head, concluding that this may very well be his only opportunity of accessing Upper Junon.

"Have you done this before?" he asked Priscilla.

"You kiddin'?" she snorted. "I'm not tryin' that."

This is insane…

"Alright," Cloud conceded, unstrapping the brown leather braces buckled across his chest. Lumbering back out of the water, he handed the braces, his spiked shoulder pauldron, the Buster Sword, and his crested SOLDIER belt to Barret. "Take care of these for me, will you? The PHS will break if it gets wet, and the rest of the stuff will draw too much attention from the military."

"Good luck," he nodded, clasping the handle of the blade and stuffing the accessories under his arm. "If ya make it, we'll find a way to follow. Rendezvous at the docks."

"Be careful not to drown," Priscilla called with misguided encouragement as Cloud waded out into the bay.

The water was much colder than he had anticipated, biting at his skin and seizing his muscles more with every step into the toxic basin, battling to conquer him as he became almost fully submerged. The dolphin bobbed without concern alongside the rusting foundations of the structure, chattering excitedly as he swam nearer, its long snout splashing on the waves. Through the murkiness beneath him, Cloud could make out an entire network of metal piping on the seabed, running back and forth between several plinths and leaking bubbles of harmful gases which slurped as they breached the surface.

Arriving at the spot he felt represented his best chance of success, he gulped hard and readied himself, then let out a resounding screech on the whistle. The dolphin dived at once, its thick tail crashing against the tide as it vanished from sight. Cloud stared into the misty depths, expecting to catch a glimpse of its magnificent blue form gliding underneath but, when a number of seconds had elapsed without any activity, he sluggishly wheeled around to face the shore.

"Nothing's happening," he shouted, treading water. "What-"

His sentence was cut short as there came a great upward force from between his legs, thrusting him into the air. He gasped in shock and terrible discomfort, the powerful creature's dorsal fin jammed against his groin as it lifted him over the deadly currents of the support tower. Azure sparks of electricity fizzed as foam sprayed across the wired fencing, but Cloud kept his eyes firmly locked on the fast-approaching girders, hearing the cheers of his colleagues somewhere far below. As the dolphin reached the apex of its flight, he threw his arms out and grasped one of the hulking beams, feeling its silky body slide away as he remained suspended high above the marina. With one final effort, he hauled himself onto the steel frame, and lay on his stomach, panting.

"Yo, Cloud, you okay, man?" yelled Barret.

"Never better," he answered sarcastically, offering a strained thumbs-up. With a groan, his midriff aching, he clambered gradually to his knees, crawling gingerly towards the main construct. At the end of the girder, a technician's ladder was nestled amid the complex arrangement of the scaffolding, its joints labelled with an assortment of designated identity codes. Taking hold of the thin greasy rungs, Cloud signalled to the others that he was secure enough to begin his ascent. "Later, then."

The soles of his sodden boots slid on the sturdy rails as he climbed the reinforced ladder, his gloved fingers clinging to the corroded metal just as his dripping clothes did to his legs and torso. In the sprawling shade of the hillside, there was little heat to dry him, his mind becoming numbed by the severe drop in temperature and the continuous band compositions that boomed all around. He could see the underside of the airfield's runway more than four-hundred feet above him, clenching his jaw with determination as he strove towards it.

As he rose inch by inch, the swirling winds transformed from an eerie whisper in his frozen ears to the wail of a howling banshee, stroking his shivering skin, luring him malevolently from his tight grasp. Not once did he dare steal an aerial view of Dolphin Cove as it stretched beneath him, his concentration set on evading any risk of vertigo. At long last, his arms heavy and burdened by fatigue, Cloud dragged himself up the last few rungs at the summit of the tower, his breath catching in his throat as he absorbed the grand spectacle.

An enormous Transcontinental Navigation Craft hovered over the tarmac of Junon Airport's landing strip, the metallic panels that covered most of its exterior shimmering as they reflected the glorious colours of a fading dawn. Hypnotic red and blue hazard LEDs blinked systematically beneath its massive shell as it oscillated slowly on the strong gusts, anchored to the ground by a trio of linked iron chains. It was the Highwind, the flagship of Shinra, Inc.'s Air Force, and one which was steeped in history.

During the Wutai War, the Shinra Corporation funded the creation of an entire Sky Fleet that was capable of long-range assault missions against the Wusheng. The most famous of these high-speed airships was named after the man who designed and built it, Captain Cid Highwind, a young but highly-decorated pilot and the Company's chief aeronautical engineer. The largest and fastest of the fleet when it came into service, the Highwind contributed significantly to Shinra's eventual victory in the conflict, and was one of only a handful not to be decommissioned afterwards.

At a recorded length of seven-hundred-and-seventy-seven feet from the aerodynamic nose of the front engine room to the tip of the twin navigational arms protruding from its rear, the pair themselves boasting half the craft's span, it was astonishing to behold. Void of any notable wings, it was kept airborne by two huge rotary blades – these in turn powered by customised 16s-Ge Mako engines housed inside the radial pods on either side of the central fuel chambers - while its propulsion propellers could be found on the mast extending from the lower stern.

Located in a smaller gondola, suspended directly below the rotors, were the bridge and crew quarters, isolated from the main bulk of the Highwind. Cloud could see through the bulbous glass panels into the spacious layout of the deck, but no staff appeared to be on duty. The spotlights that lined the runway blazed brightly upon the great airship, focusing by chance on the provocative painting of a bikini-clad redhead on the outer casing of the fuselage, apparently a personal touch from the reputedly eccentric Captain Cid.

He began across the empty strip, towards the sun as it crept between the clouds and the summit of Cape Formula, conscious of how badly he was exposed. Several sealed hangers of varying sizes dominated the eastern boundary of the base, hollowed from the cliff or embedded inside the fortress walls, the most prominent of which were marked respectively by a numerical '27' and '28'. Three of the Air Force's Gelnikas were stationed outside, the transport hydroplanes garnished in the same combination of dark and pale brown desert-camouflage he had witnessed before, but the models were of a newer generation.

Wary of being spotted, Cloud jogged alongside the meshed fence in the direction of the airport control tower and the adjacent sandstone buildings that contained the office blocks and passenger lounges, using the piled crates and barrels of the cargo enclosures to conceal himself. In the distance, Shinra's Branch Headquarters loomed at the pinnacle of the city, countless ruby banners draped from its arcing windows. The marching band music had reached an almost deafening volume, resonating from the very bowels of Junon, suggesting that the parade would soon commence.

Ducking low and scampering over the helipad, he came to a broad goods elevator driven by mechanised pneumatics. Operating the pressure switches, the lift creakily descended into the sunken forecourt of the depot, juddering violently as it drew to a halt. He leaped the barrier onto the commuter gangway, skulking towards the two-storey terminal buildings, and through the double doors beyond an entrance sheltered by corrugated iron slats.

This brought Cloud to a vacant departure area, and the generic white plastic décor and grainy linoleum floor of an adjoining corridor. A scant selection of billboards and military recruitment posters marred the otherwise bland walls, supplemented occasionally by signage that indicated he was on Level 6 of Upper Junon, south of the Mako Cannon, denoted by the characters 'R-6'. Following the connecting hallways as they ventured deeper into the citadel, he suddenly heard the scurrying of anxious footsteps farther ahead, accompanied by panicked voices.

Taking cover behind a soda vending machine, he afforded a sneaking glance around the corner as troops sped hurriedly past. He remained motionless for a moment, squatting in the shadows, but felt a great dizziness smother him, his thoughts becoming an entanglement of flashing recollections. He struggled to stay coherent but, in one last desperate attempt to quell the escalating ringing in his ears, he was engulfed by blackness.

"How you guys holding up?" Cloud called as he approached the pair of Third Classes, their ashen turquoise uniforms charred by what appeared to have been a close-range shell explosion from another of the martial tank ambushes. They spun hastily and immediately stood to attention, sheathing their Hardedge swords and saluting their superior. Gesturing for them to be at ease, he scanned their masked features, unable to recognise either beneath their metallic helmet visors.

"We're still alive, sir," replied one of the SOLDIERs. "But, things are kinda getting out of hand."

"What about the rest of your unit?" Cloud frowned.

"Everyone seems to be okay," said the second, nodding towards an infantryman leaning against a nearby wall. "Can't really say the same for that grunt over there. Looks like he got motion sickness from the chopper ride. Here we are facing a catastrophe, and he gets airsick. That's just great…"

"I'll check it out," he acknowledged, trotting in the direction of the hulking security gateway below which the private was hunched. "Maybe he just can't handle the nerves…"

As he crossed the Central Tunnel, there came a terrible blast somewhere on the levels above, causing the entire passageway to quake. The wail of machine-gun fire and scream of missiles echoed in the distance as the battle raged on, the haywire roboguards bombarding the tenement blocks of the residential district. Dust cascaded from the concrete ceiling of the vast channel, smothering the infantryman as he gagged once more.

"Hey, are you alright?" asked Cloud, folding his arms as he stopped behind the boy.

"Y…yeah…" he panted, his breathing hampered as he slowly turned. "On the helicopter…I got a little nauseous…"

"Why don't-?" began Cloud, gasping as he peered at the soldier's face. "Hey, it's you!"

"Huh?" mumbled the young man, glancing up, his gaze suddenly filling with appreciation. "Wow, you remembered me?"

"Of course I remember," chuckled Cloud, playfully slapping his friend on the back, instantly apologising when it made him baulk. "It's been a while since Modeoheim. I'm happy to be working with you again."

"Yeah…" the boy agreed quietly, his cheeks ghostly pale, "although my work is a little dull."

"What are you talking about?" Cloud scoffed with encouragement, putting his hands on his hips. "Rescue work is an important task. Anyway, as soon as we're finished here, let's go grab a bite to eat. My treat."

"Really?" he smiled gratefully. "That would be great. Once I'm in better shape, I'd love to go. But, right now…just thinking about food is making me-"

With an awkward heave, the young infantryman vomited onto the path, staggering as he fought to regain his balance. Cloud leapt clear as his friend slumped against the electronic control panels, clutching his stomach and groaning pitifully. Reaching into the pouch of his leather braces, he pulled out a tissue and offered it to the soldier.

"Whoa!" he grimaced. "That was pretty bad."

"I…I'm sorry, Cloud…" wheezed the boy, timidly accepting the gift, "I'm just…no good. Riding in vehicles has always made me sick…"

"Don't worry about it," he answered sincerely. "Hope you feel better soon."

Cloud woke with a start, breathless, the daydream snatched mercilessly from him. Even in his distant and agitated state, he could sense the presence of a figure standing over him, making no effort to assist him from his collapsed position at the base of the vending machine. As his bleary eyes focused, they fell upon polished military boots, lethargically rising to reveal formal trousers and a buttoned claret tunic. The stocky officer of the Shinra Army glared at him with an expression of combined loathing and twisted pleasure as he considered the punishment he could soon bestow.

"Well, well, well," he snarled, crunching his knuckles, "what have we here…?"

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