XIX
CHAPTER XIX
CHASING THE BLACK-CLOAKED MAN
"We wanna go up."
Barret's demanding voice resonated around the shaded metal walls of Coates' cramped office, causing the warden to glance up sullenly from behind his computer monitor. His narrowed gaze alternated from the gun-armed giant to the recent convict with the spiked blonde hair, and then to the unconscious sentries sprawled outside the trailer, fussed over by the anxious little cat. He slowly rose to his feet, adjusting the buttons on his jade safari suit, and wandered around the desk to where they waited.
"Like I told your friend," he said dismissively, "y'ain't goin' anywhere without the Boss' permission."
"Dyne ain't able to speak for us," replied Barret, his expression stern despite the anguish in his heart.
"An' why's that?"
"He's got his reasons."
"If I don't have his say-so," shrugged Coates, "there's nothin' I can do. A rule's a rule. It'd mess up the whole system."
"That's why I brought this instead," said Barret, reaching into the pocket of his combat trousers and producing Eleanor's silver pendant, dangling it in front of the warden. Coates' jaw dropped as he gazed upon the beautiful necklace with wide eyes, the colour draining from his face.
"How did…?" he stammered. "How did you get that?"
"We want to go up," Barret repeated impatiently, his tone firm.
"I…okay," gulped Coates, scrambling for his filing cabinet. Opening one of the drawers, he began fingering through a mass of poorly arranged documents. "This means Dyne's dead, right? Did…did you kill him? You must've, or you'd never be holdin' that thing!"
"What's it to you?" growled Barret.
"If the Boss' dead, maybe this place'll calm down for a while."
"What ya tryin' to say?"
"It's just…there've been so many attacks an' murders I've lost count," Coates stumbled over his words. "The prison was a warzone. Dyne didn't care who anyone was. He was psychotic-"
"The hell would you know?" roared Barret, striding forward and seizing him by the throat.
"You're right…" Coates wheezed, grappling with Barret's huge fist, his feet barely touching the floor. "I mean, I…I don't know anything. I'm sorry…"
"So, you'll get us out of here?" asked Cloud, watching indifferently as the man was dropped to his knees, panting for breath.
"I'll give you a pass for the elevator," Coates answered after a few seconds, struggling to regain his composure. "It'll take you straight back to the Gold Saucer. But, once you get there, y'all are on your own."
"Then, what you waitin' for?" snarled Barret.
How long are they planning to make us stay here?
Cloud folded his arms, staring absently at the lofty ceiling of the lavish lounge area, tracing his gaze around the fresco. The painting depicted several breeds of chocobo racing around a fantastical speedway of ice caverns and rainbow bridges and magical forests, their jockeys vying for fame or money or glory. Such a commissioned piece would no doubt have cost a fortune, but the amusement complex was not a place where expenses were spared.
The Corel Prison elevator had brought him to the clandestine corridors of Chocobo Square, and he had been escorted here by armed guards along with Barret and Cait Sith. A bubbly auburn-haired girl in a bright pink frock and floral hat greeted them upon arrival, introducing herself as Ester - an assistant of Dio's - and offering them refreshments while she arranged for an audience with her superior. Despite her charm, Cait Sith had seemed apprehensive about this as he considered the repercussions of his foolhardy actions.
Mounted lamps sent warm light cascading down the high beige walls of the room to the thick maroon carpet which the troublesome feline now paced nervously. A handful of professional riders sat in silence around the ornate mahogany table at the centre of the chamber, focusing their minds or simply ignoring their competitors. Barret waited by the long windows of a gallery that overlooked the racetracks, brooding. He had not said a single word since leaving Coates' trailer, and Cloud knew better than to disturb his reflections on the harrowing reunion with his lost kinsman.
At the refreshments bar in the corner opposite, Ester was now deep in conversion with a solitary jockey wearing a red shirt and black fedora. Much to his annoyance, Cloud had overheard enough of their discussion to have learned that the man's name was Joe, and that he and his 'invincible' black chocobo, Teioh, were undefeated on either of the Gold Saucer courses. They had also spoken of mating methods for the great birds, and of his intention to visit Hyperion at the old man's ranch when the opportunity next arose.
He's talking about Farmer Bill and his grandchildren, Cloud realised, lifting his eyes as the twin doors to the lounge suddenly swung open.
Dio marched into the room, the bronze skin of his broad chiselled torso glistening with oil, his muscular arms wrapped around the shoulders of Aerith and Tifa respectively. The girls smiled coyly as they entered, removing themselves as best they could from his nakedness, their expressions quickly filling with relief as they spotted their comrades. Red XIII and a trio of cobalt-uniformed personnel followed behind, two men straining to carry the Buster Sword between them. The third lugged the company's backpacks, the Mythril amulet draped from his wrist. As the party approached the table, Dio clicked his fingers, and the jockeys all stood, silently making their way to the exit. Joe did the same, saying his goodbyes to Ester.
"There you are, my boy," boomed Dio, addressing Cloud as he released Aerith and Tifa, gesturing for them to be seated. "Come, join us. Your friends too."
Grudgingly, he rose from the patterned sofa of cuahl pelt, closely watching the guards gently lower his greatsword onto the polished mahogany surface. The men in turn closely watched the blood-stained gun-arm of Barret as he trudged towards them, his features dark and lonely. He slumped into the chair on Tifa's left, unresponsive to her inquisitive manner. With a squeaky grunt, Cait Sith hauled himself into an adjacent slot, while Cloud was accosted by a vigorous handshake from the Gold Saucer's executive.
"What's going on?" Aerith asked once everyone but Dio had taken their seats.
"Sorry to have kept you waiting," he replied with a courteous bow. "It took my staff some time to locate you all."
"Are you alright?" Tifa glanced warily from Barret to Cloud. "We had no idea where you'd gone. We had to stay overnight at the Ghost Hotel."
"I received Coates' message about your altercation with Dyne," said Dio when neither gave an answer. The girls' eyes widened as he brought to light the matter at hand, but he continued before they could interrupt. "Such news, of course, came as a great shock to me, boy."
"Why?" Cloud was in no mood for games.
"As I'm sure you've guessed by now, you were charged with the murders at the Battle Arena because you tried to flee the scene and resist arrest," he clarified. "What Coates didn't tell you was that he was also trying to cover his own ass. Security was aware that Dyne had killed those soldiers - he despised Shinra - but he was untouchable, and they needed a scapegoat so that the Company would not come asking questions. By running, you just made it easier for them to pin the blame."
"So, Coates knew the whole time that we weren't guilty?" Cloud slammed his palms on the table, furious.
"It would appear so," Dio conceded; he was being difficult to read. "I assure you that this had nothing to do with me. I'll deal with Coates by revoking his elevator pass and giving him a taste of his own medicine. But, what I want to know is: why did you run if you were innocent, boy?"
"Actually, sir, that was my fault," admitted Cait Sith, his shrill voice full of regret.
"You?" Dio hesitated, staring at him with bewilderment, as was everyone else. "Then you had best thank your lucky stars you got back out, cat!"
"So, what happens now?" Cloud queried through gritted teeth, drawing Dio's attention.
"I suppose all that's left is to promise you and your friends a full pardon," he ran his fingers over his greasy mullet. "And also, by way of apology for this whole misunderstanding, I've prepared a little gift for you to use on your quest."
"A gift?" Aerith grinned, clapping excitedly. "I love gifts. What kind is it?"
"My dear Ester will fill you in on the details," he responded, motioning to his attractive assistant. "For now, however, I must bid you farewell. I'm sorry that I can't be there to show you in person, but I'm afraid I'm a very busy man."
"Thanks," muttered Cloud. With a final inspection of the Buster Sword and precious Mythril too intimate for the ex-SOLDIER's liking, Dio turned to leave, but paused abruptly in his stride.
"Oh, I almost forgot," he said, a curious expression on his moustached face. "Do you know what Black Materia is, boy?"
"Never heard of it," Cloud shook his head.
"The individual in the hooded cloak we spoke of," explained Dio, "I remembered that's what he asked me about in my exhibition room."
"Sephiroth?" gasped Tifa.
"No, not Sephiroth," Dio frowned peculiarly. "But, it is strange that you should make such a connection."
"Why?" demanded Cloud, his pulse quickening.
"I recently met Sephiroth," he responded, his gaze drifting dreamily towards the gallery on the far side of the lounge and the chocobo racetracks beyond. "He came by the Gold Saucer a few days ago. A real hero of the War he was. I used to be a member of his Silver Elite fan club, but…I believed he was dead. He now has a lot of young men following him around. Some were requesting autographs while others were almost like a cult. If I was a gambling man, I would bet the boy with the tattoo was one of the latter."
"Are you saying…the Black Materia has something to do with Sephiroth?" Cloud stammered, barely able to get the words out as his thoughts went into overdrive.
"Seems like it," Dio affirmed with a shrug. "They tell me he's headed south in the direction of the Gongaga region. Perhaps you'll have better luck finding him there. But, I really must be going. Cat, if you would be so kind as to come with us, you and I need to clear some things up. As for the rest of you, until we meet again…"
Cait Sith obediently sunk from the table, his whiskers trembling. Fixing his crown and offering a feeble wave to Cloud, he traipsed after the proprietor and his guards. The uncomfortable silence that hung in the air as they disappeared was almost palpable; Dio's parting news had come as a bombshell. Despite revealing Sephiroth's destination, the comments had created more questions to add to the weighty mass already bearing upon the group, and it was appalling to learn that their enemy had become an icon for misinformed youths.
And what is this Black Materia? Cloud wondered as he watched Aerith fumble uneasily with her own glassy white orb. Why does Sephiroth want it?
"Are y'all ready?" Ester's melodic voice shattered the dark mood, clacking her heels together as she beamed cheerfully. "I'm to chaperone you to Station Square."
"Let's just get outta here," Cloud sighed.
The girl led the five from the lounge to the main hub of Chocobo Square, a vast indoor casino under a dome of blazing lights that illuminated the hall in eccentric blues and yellows and pinks. Armies of neon bulbs climbed the pillars of sweeping contemporary architecture, while plasma screens occupied every corner, displaying live race feeds or current betting odds. There were no windows and no clocks; a perfect alibi for losing track of time.
Old men with drunken eyes gathered around poker tables or triple triad stalls or slot machines, flipping chips and ignoring the boisterous music, forever sipping on the complimentary cocktails served by the dozens of scuttling waitresses. At the centre of the area was the circular bookmakers' counter, visible from everywhere and the focal point of the attractions, predictably manned by beautiful, scantily clad women.
Winding through the hall, smiling politely as giddy punters scuttled back and forth across the floor that gleamed like amethyst, Ester escorted the party to the escalators of the Chocobo Branch's interior. Similar to those of the Battle Branch, the open-air steps descended from the cavernous entrance to the dome, but these were flanked on both sides by rows of sequenced spotlights and high crescent walls of silver.
Advertisement boards and animated images of forthcoming attractions were aplenty as usual, while an antiquated sightseeing gondola of Round Square soared gracefully overhead against an evening sky of deepening azure, passing along the suspended monorail. Cloud scowled as the enormous gilded effigy of Dio came into view for an instant at the pinnacle of the great structure, proud and winged and still wearing his championship belt.
When the company reached the Golden Foyer, they found much of the crowds there had dissipated, and those who remained were mainly confined to the restaurants or Turtle's Paradise bar. Plodding over the forum's huge moogle mosaics, none speaking, they made for the rainbow archway of the Station Branch. As they walked, Aerith and Tifa afforded themselves one last look around the nucleus of the amusement park; it was a place where they had felt normal for the first time in memory, even if it had only been for a day. Cloud hoped the two would be savvy enough to delay their unavoidable inquisition about the events at the prison until they were far, far away from this wearisome wonderland.
The southbound Skytrain was waiting patiently at the terminus inside the gaping beak of the giant chocobo, its blue shell reflecting the colours of an approaching dusk as its Mako engines twitched and hummed. The carriage itself was mostly empty, save for a few families with young children. A monitor on an artificial oak nearby showed it was scheduled to depart in approximately fifteen minutes. Around the exuberantly decorated plaza, costumed entertainers pranced and flapped, calling out well wishes to those perusing the souvenir shops, and preparing to welcome the twilight's influx of clientele.
"Here we are," Ester chirped, following the paved red 'carpet' and slowing as she came to the centre of the sprawling atrium. Her pink dress and flower hat blended seamlessly with the surreal setting of dazzling shades and cartoonish shapes, her stylish heels noisy on the painted ground.
"Yeah," Cloud responded blankly. "I'd noticed."
"As promised," she continued without a hint of irritation, "our assistant manager, Mr. Griffin, is expecting you at the desert ropeway station. He will present your gift."
"We, uh, don't have any transport," noted Tifa.
"That's been taken care of," Ester grinned, checking her watch and clacking her glittering shoes together again. "If y'all have any more questions, please direct them to Griffin. Then, I guess this is goodbye. Have a safe journey and do come visit us again."
With a respectful bow, she excused herself, the echo of her footsteps drowned out by a loudspeaker announcing the imminent arrival of the North Corel shuttle. Cloud glanced up as a warm breeze rushed suddenly over him, wafting from the throat of the gargantuan rosy moogle as the Skytrain gradually emerged, its twin propellers decelerating the car. His tired gaze lingered there a few moments as it crept along the tension cables to the platform, sidling up to the oak tree buffers at the end of the rails. Only then did he register the flustered yells coming from behind, and his heart sank.
"Wait!" called Cait Sith as he bounced across the precinct on his toysaurus. The vacant and goofy face of the mechanical bodyguard was a sight to behold as it moved at speed: stout violet wings fluttering erratically as its mighty white arms swung in tandem to thrust itself forward. "Wait up, you guys!"
"What the…?" choked Tifa.
"Halt!" the scrawny cat shouted into his megaphone. The stumpy legs of the obese moogle screeched abruptly to a standstill as commanded, hurling its master from its head. Cait Sith nosedived into the floor, crashing in front of the group with a dull thump.
"Are you alright?" Aerith asked, stifling a giggle as she dashed to help him.
"I'm fine, thanks," he spluttered, his fangs poking through as he smiled bashfully at her and accepted her support. Scrambling to his feet, he retrieved his crown and sprang once more onto his plump ride.
"What do you want?" Cloud snapped impatiently.
"Dio fired me," he gulped. "I've nowhere to go."
"So?"
"There's no much use for a fortune-tellin' cat in the real world," Cait Sith's shoulders sagged dejectedly. "An' I've been kinda mullin' over the last readin' ye got."
"What reading?" frowned Tifa.
"Ignore him," Cloud grumbled with a sigh. "It's not important."
"Please," begged the tiny feline, clasping his gloves together in prayer, "I swear if I don't see where my prediction leads, I won't be able to relax. I have to go with you!"
"What do you think, Cloud?" posed Aerith, folding her arms across her chest. "I say let him join us."
"Then, let's proceed," declared the cat before he could answer, barking an order into the megaphone and stomping past them towards the southbound terminal. Cloud glared after him, and simply shrugged in bitter defeat; there was no point in arguing with the insatiable creature.
"Whatever…"
A spectrum of gold, scarlet and purple covered the sky as the sun caressed the westernmost peaks of the Corel Mountains, detailing the towering capes in a line of shadow. The flight of the Skytrain over the barren wilderness was smooth and peaceful, gliding along the suspended cables as they sloped far beyond the quicksand boundary of the penal colony. Cait Sith had used the time to introduce himself fully to the party, much to the bemusement of Red XIII who lay on the pinewood aisle listening contemplatively to the ramblings of their presumptuous new companion.
When at last the gondola touched down almost an hour later where the desert bordered the prairielands, it was Barret who first stirred from his silent brooding to alight from the shuttle. An expansive car park and loading area surrounded the ropeway launch pad, with automobiles of various sizes dotted sporadically around the endless tarmac. The whine of the rotary blades dulled as the company stepped onto the concrete platform, immediately enveloped by a crisp heat and the natter of queuing patrons. A dark-skinned man in a burgundy suit was seated on a bench near the edge of the runway, hurriedly standing to receive them.
"Mr. Strife, is it?" the man held out a hand, peering tentatively from Barret to Red XIII to Cait Sith.
"Yeah," Cloud shook it.
"How do you do?" he nodded, his bald patch glistening with sweat. "The name's Griffin. I've been instructed by Dio to take you to the Buggy."
"The Buggy?" Aerith mumbled.
"If you would be so kind as to come with me, please."
With purposeful strides, Griffin led them from the station to a modern warehouse inside the goods compound a short distance away, greeting several staff in overalls as he went. The colossal Gold Saucer loomed high above the horizon, its western side sparkling like a kaleidoscope, with crooked limbs casting odd silhouettes against the heavens.
Swiping his keycard through the reader at the building's entrance, the steel shutters groaned and painstakingly began to rise, permitting the blackness of the hanger to escape. Cloud saw crates and containers lining the walls, abandoned atop wooden pallets to be progressively consumed by dust. Ducking below the ascending gate, Griffin slammed the main light switch, causing the ceiling's filament lamps to flicker once and brighten to reveal a remarkable spectacle.
"This, my friends, is the Buggy," he said, chuckling as he enjoyed their stunned expressions. "Your gift from Dio."
At the centre of the bay was a hulking armoured vehicle, its plated body a striking shade of metallic red. Almost thirty feet in length and around ten wide, the heavy-duty car was carried by two rows of four huge off-road tyres with enhanced tread, and its slender nose designed to offer robust but streamlined motion. A broad and segmented windscreen granted an internal view of the state-of-the-art driver's cab, and the larger compartment behind.
The Buggy's most curious feature, however, was arguably the space at its rear. Where the standard Mako generator had originally resided, there was now a gasoline-powered engine complete with twin vermilion exhausts shaped like rocket thrusters. As far as manufacturing feats went, this was a formidable beast, and its Mako-free fuel system unquestionably befitted AVALANCHE's principals. Yet something about it bothered Cloud.
"This is a Shinra model," he informed his comrades bluntly.
"Correct," agreed Griffin. "A prototype s-510. One of only three ever built by the Company's Department of Weapons Development. The others are currently kept at the storage facilities of the Shinra Army in Midgar."
"What's with the engine?"
"Most of the military's hi-tech vehicles and aircraft have emergency backups," Griffin replied knowledgeably. "Fuel cells in case the Mako generators fail. Oil is harder to produce and not as efficient, but the s-510s can function fully on it. The project was eventually shut down and deemed obsolete; a dated resource in an evolving world. Dio bought this one for his collection, though it has remained idle since. Until now, of course. It is practically priceless."
"A grand gesture," Cloud acknowledged sceptically, his uncertainty matched on the faces of Tifa and Red XIII, but not of the more optimistic Aerith and Cait Sith.
Too grand, in fact, even for wrongly imprisoning us, he pondered, glancing at the sullen Barret. It's his way of thanking us for ending Dyne's tyranny…
Slowly wandering around the enormous truck, Cloud traced his fingers along its pristine curves of fiery reinforced alloy, its wheels as tall as his waist. As he neared its middle, there was a soft sound of released air, and the doors on either side of the Buggy rose like the wings of a plane. Curious, he climbed aboard, absently nodding in approval as he gazed around the deluxe silver-coloured interior.
Its layout was such that the front half of the cabin had a spacious cockpit with two driving terminals and five passenger seats, all arranged in an arrowhead formation. On the walls at its rear, where the communications station may have been during military use, were four pull-down bunks and a minor kitchenette.
Tossing his equipment to the floor, Cloud slipped between the leather seats and dropped in the driver's chair. The Buggy automatically roared to life as it recognised his presence, the steering handle moving to a position above his knees with a mechanical whir. Blinking diagrams and numbers appeared on the panel before him, and a small three-dimensional holographic image flashed on the windscreen, mapping out the warehouse and surrounding area.
Inhaling deeply, he instinctively clutched the steering, lightly squeezing the acceleration and braking paddles on its wings. Speed and gear shifting were fully automated and pressure sensitive, controlled exclusively by hand. Stroking the accelerator again, there came a shrill squeal from the tyres as the Buggy jerked forward, echoing around the building. He loosened his grip slightly, feeling the suspension beneath him relax, and the vehicle gradually began to roll towards the gate. The others retreated into the yard of the compound as he gently emerged from the hanger, watching excitedly as he brought the car to rest.
With this thing, Cloud thought determinedly, we'll soon close the gap on Sephiroth. We'll pursue the man in the black cloak to Gongaga, and we will be ready to challenge him…
Taking turns to thank Griffin, each of the group joined Cloud one by one, marvelling at their new ride, until only Barret lingered on the tarmac. With a mournful sigh, the giant man stared back out over the desert as the sun finally sank below the Corel Mountains, knowing that the time had come for him to once again leave his home behind to seek a better future. Though none would ever see his moment of weakness, he could not help but allow a single tear to trickle down his battle-scarred cheek.
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