Chapter 16: He's a man you must belive, helping everyone in need, no one can succeed like Dr. Robert!
FN: Does anybody realize the inherent joke in having a character named Melkore Morningstar? If you do, leave a review telling it to me, and a scene you want me to add to the piece, and if it's viable I will do it.
FN2: Oh yeah, the original "Sylvia" appeared in the works of Yasuhiro Nightow, and was a saxophone. "No Cure for Cancer" Is property of Dennis Leary, who should be cast to play Cid Highwind, (the Cid Highwind from FFVII of course) in any production. And Finally "Casull" belongs to Kohta Hirano, in who's work it does use clips. Wow, I use a lot of stuff I don't own.
Melkore Morningstar woke up and inhaled deeply. The scent that had permeated his entire life filled his nostrils, and he smiled. "I love the smell of oil in the morning, smells like... victory."
As usual Melkore had fallen asleep at his worktable, his latest project in front of him. Melkore slowly rose form his state of living death, and began creating the special mixture that he had found was capable of adding and expanding life unto infinity, coffee. Once had ingested enough of the mixture that he felt truly alive he looked down at the previously full but now quite empty mug of coffee, and wondered.
Was there not some more efficient way of doing this? A caffeine patch that he could just slap across his wrist whenever he woke up? It would solve the eternal chicken and egg dilemma of needing to drink coffee before he could successful brew coffee that didn't corrode the mug he poured it into. Sadly, before Melkore could indulge in another day of following flights of fancy wherever they lead him, his doorbell rang.
He walked over and opened it, then he instantly wished that he hadn't. Melkore was literally knocked of his feet. He was struck by a blur of red, that took him down, and then his ears were struck by an annoyingly chipper voice. "MELKORE!" Before Melkore had any chance to understand he heard a familiar voice speak. "You know Melkore, payback should always be this sweet."
Melkore knew that voice very well, it belonged to one of his favorite customers,
Mirri Catwarrior. "You always fought low, Mirri. So who is this?" The man on top of
Melkore had a physical description to match his vocal one, he was short, young, and bright eyed. "I'm James Firecat! I'm the result of Project Patchwork!"
Project Patchwork, who the hell would guess that it would actually pay off?
Melkore pushed James off him, stood back up, and examined who he was dealing with. Mirri was in the front, behind her a man with black sunglasses and black hair, he was of indeterminate age. After him was a man in red and black with dull red eyes. After him was a rather attractive girl in pink with green eyes and brown hair. Next to her was a tall man with silver hair and green eyes, oh shit, it was going to be one of those days.
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Dr. Melkore didn't look much like Dr. Hojo to Vincent, which was a good thing.
Vincent was starting to feel a touch of hunger in him, and if he saw someone who looked
like Hojo he might want to grab a bite to drink.
Dr. Melkore had brown hair, mako enhanced blue eyes, and wore a white labcoat
that had not been washed in a long time. It was stained with what looked like a mixture of machine oil and blood. He had invited them into his house with a mixture of reservation and hopes for making money off the groups problem, whatever it was. His house was filled with various discarded weapons and other pieces of scrap metal.
He was all business at first, he pulled out a bundle wrapped in brown paper and passed it to Mirri. "Your traditional order of blades Mirri, you probably need them if you're coming to me instead of waiting for delivery. With that out of the way, what can I do for you fine gentlemen, lady, and Mirri?" Master was to the point, it was clearly something of a habit for him. "We need to borrow the Eagle." Melkore shook his head and wandered off for a moment, when he came back he leaned a black guitar case against his seat.
"Sorry General, assuming you are Sephiroth. I make weapons, I don't do travel, the Eagle is my private ship. I don't lend it to anyone. So do any of you need weapons?"
James' hand shot up, instantly. "I need a new scythe." Mirri nudged Aeris' shoulder, and she slowly raised her hand and spoke hesitantly. "I need a new staff."
Now that was a interesting interaction to watch, but then Aeris and Mirri were both interesting to watch. Not that way, Vincent had been dead for 30 years, his tastes had moved from flesh to blood a long time ago. They were both virgins of course, Vincent could tell that by the smell of their blood pulsing through their bodies.
Melkore was a virgin, James was a virgin, Niro was a virgin, hell, the only two people in the room who weren't virgins were Alex and Vincent. Due to the unfortunate loss of his sex drive that seemed to have accompanied his resurrection, Vincent's interest in both Mirri and Aeris was mostly academic.
Both of them had brown hair (even if parted by a streak of white with Mirri) and green eyes, just like she had. But there the similarity of the outer body just accented the differences of the soul within. Aeris was almost a reincarnation that had made Vincent want to rub his eyes to make sure they were not deceived.
She had been taller, but height was the least of the things Vincent cared about.
She was uncertain, at times shy because of her inexperience, yet at the same time thoroughly forthright when others were unwilling to say anything. She looked at everything with wide-eyed wonder, as if wanting to see it from all angles. She was kind, she was caring, she was not truly tested in battle, eager yet unwilling to prove herself at it.
Aeris had a universal concern for life, the same way she had. Most critically, there was that air of mystery that drew one in about her, a wolf behind bars and a tamed dog looking at each other. One of them in a prison of metal built to keep them in because by nature they were dangerous. Through those bars it looked at an animal like it, yet so different, so impossible to understand.
It had been beaten, broken, trained to react on command, and was unprepared to defend itself. But then the wolf who knew so much more then the dog would only have it's small cell to pace back and forth in, while the dog could go wherever it wanted.
Where was the fairness in that, that the wild where caged and the tame were let to run wild? Vincent had walked that road, he knew where it led, and if the wolf could not, or would not bend the bars of his cell, then it was a study in pain.
Mirri offered something else entirely. A broken mirror, a distorted reflection, a twisted interpretation, which offered dark pleasures with every motion. Mirri was the inversion of what she had been, but Vincent could not deny that the opposite of what he believed to be attractive was just as sensuous to him.
Woe betide the man who taught he saw lack of strength because of willingness, he would live a short life after meeting Mirri. If Vincent tried to take her blood without asking he was quite sure he would get more then he bargained for.
First it would be Mirri's teeth, however unfitted for the task, sinking themselves into Vincent's throat in retaliation. Then he would find himself being forced beneath her, her neck bleeding yet out of reach as she mounted him like a chocobo. Vincent dispelled that mental sequence of events before it reached its truly indecent stages.
Why Vincent found it attractive, he didn't even have to ask: the unstoppable spirit offered him everything he had never had. If she had been like Mirri then it never would have come to this, Hojo would have been found one day with his own guts split wide open in his bed, and there would be no fingerprints on the blade. Mirri always wore gloves.
If Aeris offered total untainted purity, Mirri had total impenetrable security.
Vincent would be as safe at her breast as a child at her mother's. Vincent was an immortal vampire, so why did he find the concept of safety so appetizing? Because what need did Vincent have for a gun under his pillow if he lay next to Mirri? What fear did he need that his inhumanity might offend or endanger her? His inhuman power could prove as attractive to her as her inhuman confidence was to him.
Mirri offered a chance to completely unwind himself and bare every vestige of his soul. No hidden secrets, no tightly wound muscles prepared to leap into danger, just complete contentment. The sanctity of an unhallowed temple whose crosses had long since been exchanged for pentagrams and whose holy wine had become kegs of beer.
Even a vampire could only envy the strength with which Mirri held herself, and the way she used it. Aeris would bend rather than break, but Mirri was something else. She didn't bend, she just got out of the way, or fought back, she didn't try to stand still and take it, she either dodged or dished it back out.
Did purity of mind and body hold any candle to this being which was not quite normal even to a vampire? The answer was quite clear to some one who Vincent could see at this moment. James Firecat was not truly stretched across Mirri's lap for her to stroke him behind the ears, but he might as well have been.
Was it fair to say that this man James Firecat favored safety over purity, that he was a coward in romance, no. For that was yet another one of Mirri's numerous attractions, she offered her own kind of purity (the kind that was typically left after an area had been swept with white phosphorus) as well as safety, to lesser men, a god herself made flesh, cries in her name would not go unanswered. James had seen, and he had fallen in line, he was even now completely uncoiling himself, body and soul for Mirri to observe, tension and fear had no meaning to him.
His blood told the story of his life, and short as it was, the blood spoke with great strength. What was love if it did not mean safety? What was love if it meant keeping secrets from each other or the world? What was love if you could not shout it to the hills? Love wasn't something two people horded to them selves, it was something two people shared with the world, and dam the world if it didn't accept the gift.
James' blood was yet another damnation of the "love" he had held close years ago and had yet to let go of. Vincent would not let go now either, his own blood had questions that it shouted back to James' as they met an intermingled with one another.
What is love if it means someone having to submit, even willingly? Would you call what we did last night love?
How I dug into your neck, was that I love? It was nothing more then base animal instinct, what I needed to survive! Love is suppose to be between two adults, not between a parent and a child! Your love is nothing but a perverted sense of loyalty!
James blood stood up for what it believed in just as much as Vincent's.
Why must love be human? Reproduction is animal, and the desire for reproduction is what gives birth to love. I can't reproduce, doesn't that make my love far less animal then yours ever was? Why don't you call this, a kind of loyalty called love?
Watching James, Vincent deeply wished to once again sink his fangs into his neck and draw more of his blood into him. Not only would more of James' blood make him younger, it had another effect. It acted as an anesthesia to memories and thoughts that
haunted Vincent, because it was so alive.
All of these thoughts flashed through Vincent's mind, and then he acted. He raised his metallic left hand into the air quite sure that it would get Melkore's attention. "I need a new gun."
Melkore took an odd look at Vincent, rubbed his chin for a moment and then stood up parting his labcoat to reveal the "white" (it had been splattered in much the same manor as his labcoat) pants and shirt he wore. "Okay then, three specialized weapons, just one important question before I get started, who's paying? Usual rates, three jobs, 300,000 gill, all up front, my work is guaranteed, refills and reloads once a year are free."
Vincent cast a questioning glance at Sephiroth, 300,000 gill was a substantial sum of money. Master, with his usual confidence, however, was ready. He removed a small card and held it up causing the thing to almost shimmer as the light hit it. "Tell me Doctor, do you protect your customers?" Melkore was busy rubbing his hands together at the sight of the card, and Vincent mentally slapped himself for not realizing what it was sooner.
Shinra hadn't changed that much in 30 years, they still issued mythril debit cards to their prominent officers to save them from having to carry around huge sums of money on them. They also hadn't updated their security much either. James had explained the situation to Vincent well enough, Master had broke way from Shinra five years ago, and they still hadn't frozen his assets with the company.
Melkore was of course salivating because money taken from that card was the most stable currency in the world, Shinra would topple before it did. Melkore looked around the room, found a suitable machine, blew some dust off it and placed it before Master talking all the while.
"General Sephiroth, allow me to say that I offer my customers the strictest confidence regardless of their occupations! I hold these transactions with the same level of impartiality that a doctor would show his patients in a hospital. If you put down the money then not even being branded with hot coals would make me say you did!"
Vincent doubted that statement, Melkore did not look like the kind of person who had a high pain tolerance. Sephiroth ran the card through the machine, and typed in the necessary amount. The screen flashed with a successful deduction and Vincent saw how much money was left on the card. Vincent was closer to shock then he'd been since he'd died: Master was loaded!
Nor was Vincent the only one who happened to see this piece of information. Mirri saw it, and reacted much the way Vincent might have reacted when he was human. "Sephiroth, a question. If you're carrying around that much on that card, why is James buying us cars? I mean, you have to be right up there with Shinra executives, money wise. 'Oops, I dropped 5 million gil!'"
Master glared at Mirri, she did not retreat, but she did stop her advance and prepare to hold her ground. "Because it's incredibly easy to trace. Everywhere we went people would know who I was because I used that card. The good doctor, however, has made it quite clear that he wouldn't think of doing such a thing."
There was an uneasy silence. Master knew that Melkore could still betray them. But Melkore knew that after he finished his work Sephiroth could kill him and take his plane. So Melkore decided to do what he did best to break the tension. "Okay then, which of you three are going to step forward and be the first to be measured for your weapons?" Vincent stepped forward, the sooner it was done the sooner he could find someone who wouldn't truly miss a pint of blood.
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The entire affair was almost magical for Aeris to watch. She had never believed in violence, but she had never realized just how much artistry went into making its tools. Melkore's first tools for the process were a large sketchbook and fairly new pencil. After he had done what looked like quick sketches of his clients, he began to rapidly trace out columns and rows to be filled with information. Then he pulled out a tape measure and got to work on Vincent who was somewhat abashed at the process. "You're wasting your time."
Melkore did a quick measurement of Vincent's right arm, then his left (as much of it as there was) arm and the prosthetic attached to it. "Don't tell a doctor how to do his job" was Melkore's only reply as he then started to get to work on Vincent's chest. Aeris could guess why Vincent had said that, he had been a very old man in that coffin, a young one this morning, and now he was in middle age.
Granted she guessed she was probably going to see more of the last two, not that she knew all that much about vampires. Still it was a good point, getting Vincent's measurements didn't help much when they changed with his age. But Melkore didn't seem to mind, the entire process went on for what felt like an hour. Vincent's arms, chest, legs, length of each individual finger, length of hand, rows of columns and figures were filled with information.
Finally all the information must have been completed because Melkore slammed the book shut. "That'll take care of everything. I think I can take a standard first class SOLDIER pistol and modify it. I've got one on hand, tell me how it feels." Melkore took a moment to move various pieces of machinery and scrape around before unearthing a shinning silver pistol.
He handed it to Vincent who balanced it in his right hand for a moment before speaking. "Still a touch too light, what kind of bullets does this thing use?" "10 MM, but from the specifics I got from your left 'hand', and the kind of balance it has, I think 13MM are warranted. I have plenty of those around here for rifles. I'll have to give you a revolver style weapon, but the hammer going back will be the safety rather then needed for every shot. You'll have to reload each chamber individually, but I don't have 13MM pistol clips lying around. Entire job take me, oh, two to three hours. Next patient?"
James said something about "last in first out" and gestured for Aeris to go forward, which she did. Once again Melkore got down to work sketching columns and rows, before he got to work with the tape measure. As Mirri suggested, it was obvious that Dr. Melkore was walking a fine line as he took the measurements, but as long as he didn't cross it Aeris didn't vocally object.
Aeris had never been measured for a dress but she could imagine that it would feel just like this. It felt odd, neither right nor wrong, just odd, to know so much precision went into the creation of something to cause destruction. Notes were sketched, numbers written, erased and rewritten. It was all adding up to some kind of unexplainable equation in Melkore's head as he wrote them down. Finally, he closed the book and took a few moments to examine what he had written.
Then like a doctor having performed a particular difficult diagnosis he made his decisions. "Nothing particularly interesting about this job. Need a well crafted staff, metal would let you strike harder, but wood makes a better material for conducting magic through. Not that much to say, staffs are easy, only take me about an hour and a half to make. Chief advantage of getting them this way is that I'll guarantee that the thing feels perfectly balanced for you. Now for the last one."
James stepped forward, and Melkore looked him up once and down, he did not open his book this time. Instead he reached under his desk, and pulled out a small silver case. He opened it revealing a pair of red gloves and pushed the case over towards James. "Here you are, go nuts."
James looked down at the gloves in surprise that clearly everyone else was feeling as well, those red gloves looked no different the ones he was currently wearing. "What about all that other stuff?" Melkore reached under his desk, and moved aside yet more stuff till he finally found what he was looking for. From under his desk he produced a small golden booklet that he laid on top of the gloves.
The title read "Genetic Sequence, Project Patchwork: A road map of the not so human genome." James opened it and squinted at what he found inside, the logic of it clearly escaping him. "Do any of you guys get this?" James held the book open, and flipped through a couple of pages, leaving Aeris just as confused as he was. The pages were filled various combinations of the letters "G" "A" "T" and "C" into four letter groups with numbers interspaced between each group.
Not even Sephiroth was able to make any particular sense out of the book, he recognized it as genetic code, but that was about as far as his understanding went. Melkore, seeing the surprised look on the faces of his guests snatched the book from James' hands. He held the book out cover first towards the group like a preacher displaying the good book to a very primitive tribe of people. "I can't fing believe this! Assuming Shinra didn't decide to screw around with my work, this book holds a perfect mapping of his genetic code! Since none of you understand the power of science, allow me to demonstrate."
Melkore flipped through the book till he found what he was looking for. Proudly holding up page 67 of the book he read with determination what no one else could see. "Eyes: red!" What followed was almost like a warped version of a one man cheerleading routine. Melkore would flip to a random page, apparently written in a language only he could deduce. "HAIR: RED!" "DOMINANT HAND: LEFT!" "BLOOD TYPE: O" "REUSES FACTOR: NEGATIVE!"
This continued with Melkore chanting out various totally irrelevant facts, which, judging from the surprise on James' face, were all true. Eventually seeing that he had at last managed to garner some respect he tossed the book back down on the table, and the magician revealed his trick. "Tarot cards, palm reading, crystal balls, numerology, horoscopes, nothing but idiots making stupid guesses! That book is the one true method for divining the future because it contains a perfectly traced genetic code down to every single chromosome!"
There was a slight pause, then James dived on the book with reckless abandon. He managed to grab the book, but sadly slid right off the table and landed in a jumble of limbs, his head buried in the book. "So if this thing has my life story, what are my lucky numbers? 3? 13? 18? 88?" Melkore bent down, and after a rather protracted struggle with James, managed to retrieve the book from his clutches.
"It's not that kind of book. More importantly, those gloves are yours… James, I believe? They were one of the few things that Shinra didn't take from me when I split with them. According to your genetic pattern, you're particularly adapted to their use, so you'll already know how to use them. I have some weapons to be making." With that he headed up the stairs leaving the rest of the group alone, and pondering what exactly to make of the encounter.
Halfway up the stairs there was a series of loud thumps as the book slid down the stairs. Once again James leapt for it, and once again he was a bit too focused on his goal, which caused him to slam into a wall.
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Sephiroth drummed his hands on the table. James, thank god(s), was enjoying himself with the book, reading his DNA. But Sephiroth had been inside for too long, it
was time to go for a walk. "Vincent, stay here" he added the words as he took a single look back as he left the door. Vincent looked at him like a very small puppy who had just been kicked, wonderful. The last thing Sephiroth needed at the moment was a codependent vampire hanging around with him.
As he walked through the streets he saw something, something that was different.
Sephiroth had spent his life observing his foes, and he was good at telling people by the way they walked. In Midgar, people hustled about with fear in their walks, knowing what would happen to them if they didn't. In Cosmo they walked with the slow dreamlike walk that James usually had, the look that said "I don't have anything to do, so why rush?" Here, everyone walked slowly, but it wasn't the slowness of those without purpose, it was what Mirri would call a "swagger".
It was the way people in upper Midgar walked, a walk that said "Look at me, I'm successful, rich, and, if I can't take it with me, I'll just spend it all on my funeral!"
Sephiroth, after a moment's thought, understood the connection. Shinra ruled all business inside Midgar, and neither Corel, Nibelhiem, or Cosmo Canyon did enough business to challenge them. But Rocket Town, it was home to people like Melkore who were brain drain from Midgar, who wanted more freedom.
What could Shinra do to stop them? They weren't making power, unlike Corel, they were just making things. They paid Shinra for power, and what could Shinra do to stop them from working? After all, how exactly did you audit someone like Melkore, when all his income came from unverifiable sources, and all his outcome could be listed under "weapons of death".
Shinra had gone to the top, but their company wasn't in charge, capitalism was, however powerful Shinra was, people only paid for what they wanted. The only way to stop this was for Shinra to ban capitalism, which made about as much sense as a priest deciding to ban all religions. Then another question popped into his mind. Who was in charge? As a general, who was in charge was very important. If they were in charge on his side, then as a general, it was his job to make death threats to them. If they were in charge on the other side, it was his job to actually kill them. Not that there hadn't been times during his tenure at Shinra when he had been dearly tempted to try it the other way around.
Well, now he was, but only because he had changed his side. That was how the world works, you couldn't change who you were or your principles, you could only change your side. Sephiroth would have to find who this in charge of this town, there had to be someone in charge. Even Costa Del Sol had a director of tourism, which was all the town was really there for, so he counted as a leader.
"The mayor isn't here right now." How wonderful, like so many times when
Sephiroth's mind was deep in thought his body was deep in action. It normally happened in combat, but now his body, sensing him wanting to find a leader, had made him walk towards the largest building in the town.
The man standing outside it had apparently, thought, (well he was right) that Sephiroth wanted to find who was in charge. Since he couldn't do that, Sephiroth would just have to find about him. "Oh, sorry, I'm just trying to find some things out.
How long has he been gone?" The man did not look like a guard, he looked like a clerk
and he was talking to Sephiroth like he would any other tourist. Maybe if they all hung cameras around their necks and spoke in overly obvious accents he wouldn't have any trouble getting all of them back into Midgar.
"He's been gone about a week, you can tell because the clouds of smoke are starting to finally disperse from over his house. That's all he really does around here smoke and work on his CD, 'No Cure for Cancer.'" Sephiroth didn't ask about that, no matter how much he wanted to. "So he's a 'live and let live' type of ruler?" The man took a moment to laugh at private joke.
"If by 'let live' you mean verbally abuse, then yes. And if by ruler you mean 'man who verbally abuses everyone else and gets away with it' then yes. Mr. Highwind isn't really in charge, because no one is. We just do our jobs, and don't make trouble."
Sephiroth nodded, and made his way into a convenient alley. Had he been the type, he would have burst into laughter.
He was right, as a general, Sephiroth took great pride in being right and took more pride in the system being right. The army was a system, the government was a system, the economy was a system, and systems ran humans not the other way around. He had realized that when he had become a general, and realized how little control a general had.
To put a finger on it, being a general gave you as much control (and a little less safety) as you had riding a flaming chocobo.
What it came down to was running forward, and hoping like hell that your men followed you, or that you could do it yourself. Sephiroth had been luckier than most generals, because he could do a lot more alone than most people. Shinra was a system, but it was not the only system. Here was what would ultimately be the death of Shinra, or at least what would replace it afterwards. "Lost in thought, General? That's not like you."
Sephiroth looked up at the voice, it came from a man with mako enhanced eyes, but he was not dressed in the traditional blue Shinra SOLDIER outfit. Instead he was dressed in black and white, and Sephiroth instantly recognized his face. He hadn't forgotten the faces of any of his Seraphim. "Jace, you always did have a horrible sense of timing." "Shinra told me the Great Sephiroth was in the area. What's wrong, got nowhere else to run?"
"Have you forgotten?" "Forgotten what?" "Everything I taught you." Before Sephiroth had finished speaking, Jace leapt for him, but Masamune was in his hands before the SOLDIER even began his swing. The clarion ring of steel on steel echoed in the air, and Sephiroth launched his opponent backwards with a flick of his wrist. Jace flipped in midair, landing on his feet.
"You've still got your reflexes, I see. Good, it'd be a lousy fight if you'd lost your edge!" Sephiroth settled into a relaxed stance, Masamune held in his right hand, his left foot trailing. His image shifted, and Jace yelped as he narrowly deflected the strike. He launched into a series of cuts, stabs and swings, all of which were deflected or evaded at the last moment. Sephiroth struck again, another flickering slash that Jace deflected and spun into, bringing himself within reach of the ex-General. He thrust his blade in a short stroke, which Sephiroth swiftly sidestepped. "You were never as fast as the others."
Jace's visage twisted into a snarl at that. "How dare you! You think you can ditch us, then come back and toy with me?" Jace followed this with a low strike that he let flow into an overhead chop, hoping to catch Sephiroth by surprise. As Jace's sword slashed through the space that Sephiroth, upon last check, had been occupying, he realized his error: his own blade formed an optical barrier. Sephiroth could have gone anywhere!
"Ten years ago, I led you to water. It seems I still cannot make you think," murmured a soft baritone from over his left shoulder. Jace whirled in anger, lashing out with blade and word; "Take me seriously, dammit! Stop playing! Show me the vaunted 'Killing Dance'!"
"So be it." Sephiroth's features hardened, and as he deflected Jace's next attack, he shifted his grip and struck, severing Jace's arm. Sliding into his trademark guard position, he glided forward, impaling the SOLDIER and lifting him off of the ground. "My third lesson: 'You can't talk and fight at the same time'. You really have forgotten."
As Sephiroth held his former comrade aloft, he whispered softly: "Who are we?"
Jace responded through a swiftly gathering haze: "We are the Seraphim." Sephiroth's lips quirked into a sad smile as he and Jace recited the oath that had once bound the best of the best: "We live for battle, we die for glory, all our lives be spent in war. Beyond the petty schemes of men, the Seraphim forever soar…"
As the words faded into empty air, Sephiroth realized that he was talking to himself: Jace was dead. "You fought for another man's glory, and shall receive a funeral befitting a pawn. You died with dignity, and shall be remembered as a worthy comrade. Rest in peace, soldier." With this last, Sephiroth's eyes began to glow, backlit by jade flames. Sephiroth raised his left hand, and sheets of fire lashed out from it, quickly transforming the corpse on his blade into a pyre-kabob.
As the flames died away, Sephiroth shook the ashes from his sword and clothes, sheathed Masamune, and headed back to town, shaking his head slightly. "Only five left. Will I miss them?"
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Melkore put down his tools. The staff was good, the gun was better. The gloves were the best however, but then he had already handed them to their new owner. He looked down at his watch and then looked outside. Time flies when you're making weapons apparently, because it was already starting to get dark. To be fair he might have overestimated just how long it would take him to create the weapons.
He took a moment to look at a small note he had written on his arm in what he hoped was less then permanent ink. Project Patchwork was James Firecat. The girl who wasn't Mirri was Aeris Gainsborough. The guy dressed in green was Alexander Diamondclaw, which was, in all fairness, a really weird last name. The one with the black sunglasses was Niro Rose. The gun belonged to Vincent Valentine, who had blood red eyes.
Now well versed in the names of his clients that he hadn't possessed the time to memorize previously, he prepared to go downstairs. That's when he took a slightly longer look through the single window in his workshop. That window had never done anything but cause trouble.
This time it gave him an exclusive look at the veritable procession of Shinra vehicles that was coming to a stop in front of his house. Of all the times for his habit of arming anyone with enough cash prove inconvenient to him, this was the worse. If he didn't have customers he could have just jumped in the Eagle, flown off, crashed it, and changed his name before setting up shop in Midgar.
Now he would have to actually open the door, and today had proved that opening doors was just inviting trouble in. He walked downstairs, the gun and staff held in either hand. He tossed them on the table, and shot each of his guests a disapproving look. "The gun's name is Casull, and all of you guys had better start hiding or something, because there's a huge Shinra parade going on outside. I may or may not close the door on them, they may have a better internet connection or a cable package with more channels to offer me."
He then went over to the black guitar case that he reserved for special occasions, especially bad ones. He opened it, and carefully slung the guitar across his chest, the words "Sylvia" written in black across it. Melkore had personally made the guitar, and it would be useful for times like this. Because you were about to open the door to the people who owned over half the world and were busily hunting for the people who had probably been freeloading in your living room (probably freeloading, 100 chance they had been in his living room) all day, you had better be damn sure of where your guitar was!
You just didn't forget that kind of thing, it would be like cracking jokes at a funeral (this was a bad example, as Melkore had been rightly accused of doing this several times on different occasions) or turning without signaling (he did this also) your intentions. He opened the door and came face to face with the new President Shinra, and his bodyguard. Both of them were familiar to Melkore, Rufus Shinra hadn't been old enough to fire Melkore a decade ago, but Melkore knew enough about him, and seen him a few times.
His bodyguard was a Turk named Tseng for whom Melkore had made a rather remarkable 9MM pistol. Neither of the men were brandishing weapons at Melkore's person, and apparently most of the guards present seemed to ceremonial, that was a good thing.
Rufus even went so far as to offer his hand for Melkore to shake, instead of going for his double-barreled shotgun. "Mr. Morningstar, I'd like to congratulate you!" Melkore shook the president's hand while attempting not to sneer, he hadn't spent years studying chemistry to be called "Mr.", thank you very much.
But he was talking to a man who had so much money that he could have Melkore killed (it would be a pleasant way to go) by crushing him with bags filled with gil, so Melkore tried to be polite. "Why Mr. President, I don't even know what I've done recently that deserves the honor!"
As Melkore said that he grabbed Rufus' fist in a "hearty" handshake. Hearty meaning that it was the kind of handshake that Melkore used to get in high school from jocks with more girls then brain cells. That had been one of the main reasons Melkore had been so eager to give himself enhancements. Now he could give bone crushing, circulation stopping, greetings in the name of joviality.
Rufus Shinra hadn't had mako injections, and it looked like he might have to go to a chiropractor when Melkore finally let his hand go. After he finished a not so subtle (in the sense that neither was a 88CM weapon) attempt to shake the pain out of his hand Rufus continued with much less humor in his voice.
"Simple, we've finally finished a prototype of your greatest weapon ever, and we believe now might be a good time to renew your work with the Shinra organization." They had completed a prototype of Melkore's greatest weapon, meaning that he wasn't going to get any money out of it. It also meant that he might finally be getting some recognition. But why the hell would Shinra be working on that thing now, it was made to end a war.
Using it to deal with the people currently residing in Melkore's house was like using a rocketlauncher to swat flies. "Under what conditions would I be working for Shinra?" Rufus was still attempting to rid of the pain in his right hand so Tseng spoke. "Dr. Morningstar, Shinra would be willing to offer you a great sum of money in return for your continued work."
Melkore repeated his question and this time Rufus reluctantly answered. "We are currently tracking down some rebels and the man who killed my father. For this we would greatly appreciate the services of the Eagle as a transport ship. As for your position you would be working for Scarlet, the head of the weapons department." That wasn't any better than working for Dr. Hojo, no amount of money was worth giving up artistic freedom.
"I'm afraid I have to respectfully decline." You didn't say no to the old president of Shinra, and apparently Rufus planned to follow in his father's footsteps. "I'm afraid that you don't have a choice Morningstar." A SOLDIER with glowing eyes began to advance, weapon drawn. It was a very good thing at this point that Melkore had decided to bring Sylvia with him.
He carefully began to "tune" his guitar in what looked like a unplanned motion. Then carefully aiming his guitars neck so that it pointed straight at President Shirna's chest, he ran his right hand down the chords. As he did so he began to calmly sing to himself in time with the tune he was playing.
"The players tried to take the field, but the marching band refused to yield, do you recall what was revealed?" Melkore singing did very little to cover up the sound of machinery that was coming from Sylvia. The sound, of course, was caused by the fact that the guitar was about to display her more exotic features. In this case the head of the guitar was spinning around like a screw coming undone, which, in a sense, it was.
Just as it did so, a new piece of machinery shot into its place. This piece of machinery was a six barreled gatling gun, with the strings connected to a trigger. If Tseng hadn't been so dam determined to do his job (how much was he getting paid for it, probably more then Melkore would as a doctor with a PHD) decided he wanted to be a hero.
In this case as Melkore's hands began to play the strings, but generating a rhythm no longer the goal, Tseng knocked Rufus to the ground in an energetic leap that carried them both out of Melkore's field of vision. Sadly the SOLDIER was not so lucky, there was no one to knock him out of the way.
He got a full verse of Melkore's own personal version of "Taps" along with several bullets through vital organs. As he fell backwards Melkore stepped back and with a flourish knocked the door shut with Sylvia before he locked it. This action would be about as useful as if he was doing it against a tidal wave, but he didn't care.
"Hey guys, wherever you are, we're gonna have company, and I'll make you a deal! If any of us survive what comes next, you can fing keep the Eagle!" His offer made, Melkore jumped for cover as his door was turned to swiss cheese by a hail of Shinra gunfire. Apparently the group was less ceremonial then it looked. Either that or Shinra was starting to steal even the ideas he had never told them about.
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Shinra guards rushed in, the sound that emanated from within was like a heavy machine gun firing, except it also was blending with a touch of finger style guitar. Dead bodies hit the floor. Tseng watched them fall and bit back a curse in his native Wutian.
"President Shinra, we can't do this. We don't have any explosives on us. We can't match personal firearms against foes who are deeply entrenched, regardless of how many men we have." Rufus Shinra however would not be deterred. "Very well Tseng, what do you suggest? We find a way to call in some tanks? We barricade this house till they starve to death? We just turn around and let them go? I want solutions not problems Tseng!"
Tseng kept his face neutral, years of Turk training taught a person to swallow any order. Thus he didn't say "Maybe you shouldn't have tried to twist the arm of a man who makes his living creating weapons as if he were some civilian." Instead he gave the answer that actually could help the problem.
"We surround the house. Whatever that thing is, they can't guard all the possible entrances. I'm going to enter through the roof, other SOLDIERS can try and find side and back entrances. Do you think you can look after yourself Mr. President?" It was somewhat difficult for Tseng to say that without sounding like a babysitter, but there it was.
Rufus gave him a glare worthy of Tseng's statement before he started barking orders to the troops. "SURROUND THE HOUSE! Block all the entrances and make sure not to damage the Eagle!" Fairly certain that things were in good order, Tseng took another moment to examine the house.
The second story had one obvious window, that would do quite nicely. Thanks to his mako and Jenova enhancements it was easy to make the jump, and he even managed to perfectly go through the window and land inside the house. The first thing he saw when he landed was the single living occupant of the room. A man with his face buried in a book with a golden cover.
He had no weapon in sight, but he clearly heard Tseng's arrival because he put down the book. Tseng revised his guess, the person wasn't really a man, he looked about as young as Tseng had been when he had first become a Turk. He was reclining in a chair that probably belonged to Melkore, and his entire body language spoke of total relaxation.
"Sephiroth told me that if anyone tried to come down the stairs I was to stop them." Tseng already had his pistol in hand. "Too bad." "BLAM!" Just as Tseng had started to pull the trigger the guy acted. He reached for the closest source of protection that he could find. The hardcover golden book stopped the round probably about halfway through it.
The man dropped the now damaged book to the floor and glared at Tseng as if he had just killed his pregnant spouse. "You just shot my life!" Tseng didn't acknowledge those words, he simply pulled the trigger again, and again the man showed incredibly irritating ingenuity. He pushed the against the desk with his legs causing the wheeled chair to slide across the room, carrying him out of the line of fire.
Tseng bit back another curse, he didn't have time to be playing around with this fool. His foe didn't even have a weapon, Tseng took several steps closer, and at practically point blank range he pulled the trigger. The red hat was blown clear off his foes head by the bullet, which Tseng had not exactly aimed properly. The hat was located slightly higher on his target then it would be on most people.
Thus a shot directly through the center of it blew through the hat but not the man's head. The reason for this dislocation was then revealed to Tseng, the hat was higher on the man's head because he had a pair of cat ears, both of which were now raised straight up in alarm. That went a long way to explaining why the hell Tseng had fired three shots at a pathetically short distance without hitting anything but a book and a hat.
You would think Shinra would put more effort into controlling its science experiments, but then Sephiroth had already proved otherwise. "James Firecat, you've just run out of lives." Tseng put the barrel of his gun to James' unresisting head. He pulled the trigger. He dropped to the floor, his legs yanked out from under him. Despite years of training and experience, he was not able to keep his gun straight as he dropped to the floor.
The bullet shot harmlessly into the ceiling. Tseng looked down and discovered that a cat like red tail which lead back to James was wrapped around his right leg. Tseng stared at it in disbelief, he must be losing his touch. There was no other reason for how he had been able to use four bullets without actually hitting anything. He was still practically point blank range, point the gun up at James' heart and shoot, it sounded so simple.
It was very simple up to the point where James' tail uncoiled from around his leg with impossible speed, and slapped against his hand with a crack like a whip. The blow struck as he was pulling the trigger, and his fifth bullet wasted itself into the wall to the left of James. Tseng dropped the gun as pain shot up his hand, James' tail had plenty of snap to it.
It was impossible, James just sat there, five bullets, and Tseng knew that if he went for the gun with the other hand James would let him pick it up. Then he would get the tail again as he pulled the trigger, all six bullets. What the hell was James thinking, he was smacking the crap out of Tseng, but he hadn't done anything more then what he needed to do to dodge bullets. "James, what the hell are you waiting for?" "Huh?"
Tseng decided that it wasn't worth going for the gun right now, he might be able to relax James into a false sense of security. That would have been a good plan, except for the fact that if James got any more relaxed, his body would slide down into a puddle of liquid Firecat.
"Why don't you pull out a gun and shoot me or something?" James lazily pushed the chair away from Tseng, and looked back at his book. "Well I am sort of peeved about you shooting a hole in my genetic structure, but that's hardly a good reason for killing you. We'll be booking this place, your not keeping me from getting anything I want. No reason to kill you."
Just his luck, Tseng had to get his ass handed to him by a pacifist, wonderful. "So what are you going to do now? "James picked back up the book Tseng had shot, as if trying to see how much damage it had suffered. The damage of course was extensive, books did not take bullets without getting pieces blown out of them. Tseng finally stood back up and picked his gun. "So you're just going to sit here and wait?" James flipped through pages in the book till he finally found one that hadn't been damaged by the bullet.
Sadly because he had been holding the book with the cover towards himself all
the pages in the book after this one were bullet damaged. Seeing this small problem,
James decided that he would just read it backwards. "Yeah, that's the general idea. I sit
here waiting for Sephiroth to tell me when we book out, and till then I'll read this."
James' head was deeply buried in the book to the point of completely ignoring the
rest of the world. Tseng didn't aim for his head, that was guarded by the book. But James' heart made for a wonderful target, one that Tseng couldn't resist, he had one bullet left. He fired, and instantly regretted it.
James simply collapsed across the chair, kicked against the desk and spun the chair around. The end result was that the bullet was perfectly caught by the book this time through the books cover. He held open the book, and the second bullet dropped out from the tunnel it had dug in the book. "You know, that's sort of irritating, now I don't even have a book to read!"
James made this announcement while he was looking at Tseng upside down, still holding onto the book. He spun the chair around again, sat up, and tossed the book at Tseng. "Now I'm gonna have to take your gun."
James crisscrossed his hands, and suddenly Tseng saw strands of white wire stretched between his gloved hands. As Tseng comprehended this, he felt his entire body going cold, this was new, and yet painfully familiar. He had used garrote wire plenty of times to strangle people, but he had never seen garrote wire between gloves.
Whatever his stuff was it was not that however, it was much more frightening then just long range garrote wire. The wire wrapped itself around Tseng's gun, and then
James yanked it from his hand. As it did so the gun was sliced neatly into two separate halves.
To be exact, the barrel was separated from the rest of the gun. The two broken pieces fell to the floor and Tseng looked down at them in mute horror. Wire that could do that to a gun could easily slice through a person's skin and bones. War had just reached a new level of hell.
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Vincent snapped open his new gun the "Casull" and began reloading it. The task was anything but easy because he had to slide each bullet into place just so with his right hand while his left one held it steady. It took him almost a full minute, a pathetic reload time, if he hadn't had some good cover he would have been dead. Melkore and the other's were falling back away from the front door.
Master had not yet even drawn his blade, though he viewed the entire fight with
complete confidence. "We need a distraction. If we have that, we can get to the Eagle
and take off." Distraction? Vincent could do that and still make it onto the plane as it
took off.
"I'll handle it Master!" Vincent reloaded Quicksilver (his pistol) and then closed
his eyes as he focused on splitting his body into many. His Master needed a distraction,
Shinra wouldn't forget this in a long time. Thankfully it was late enough that the sun was
gone, thus making the manifestation of Vincent's power simpler. That was good because
Vincent hadn't done anything like this in his life before.
Okay, to be fair he had done something like this before but that had been instinct,
this time he needed to do it while retaining control. He felt his body split into many
entities and he felt himself swarming into the air. He distinctly heard Melkore utter a string of obscenities in surprise at what he saw happening. His Master of course just watched in slight respect and uttered a few words appropriate in response to Melkore's. "What do you expect, he's a vampire."
The window directly in front of where Vincent had been sitting had already been shattered by many bullets, thus leaving plenty of room for Vincent to exit through. Many guards and SOLDIERS were surprised by the swarm of bats which was suddenly leaving
Melkore's house. If they were surprised by bats, Vincent couldn't wait until they saw what would come next.
The car that Rufus must have come in would make a fine place to bring himself back together. As he did so, people suddenly began to pay much more attention to him. It wasn't fair for them to do anything else. Vincent had left the house in the shape of a swarm of bats, and now a swarm of bats was coming together in the shape of a human before their eyes. That, and Vincent was gripping a gun in either hand, which he instantly started using.
It didn't matter who his target was. Random people in Shinra uniforms, some who were busy screaming their heads off, others who were vainly trying to draw a bead on him. Vincent emptied his first few shots into the heads of his foes before they started shooting back. The first few rounds were nothing to Vincent, they hit him and left his body, as if they had missed, allowing Vincent to continue to fire with executioner style precision. But then some with glowing eyes fired at Vincent. He hissed with pain; the wounds hurt the way nothing had since before he'd died.
Vincent fell off the car, temporarily gaining some blessed shelter. What had done that to him? What kind of weaponry could do that to him? He was a vampire, bullets shouldn't have been able to do this to him! He holstered his guns, and ran a hand along his chest. The bullet left a green ring around the wound, he slowly ran his hand across it. As he did so, he suddenly heard voices screaming in his head. "Come with us, you belong to us! Return to us!"
Vincent looked at the green ring, and silently swore, mako. They actually had mako bullets, damn it. He couldn't let himself die this easily, even if he had been shot with concentrated Lifestream! His Master needed him! Vincent drew the Casull with his claw and opened it. Six spent rounds shot out and Vincent reached into a his pocket for more bullets.
He quickly grasped a single bullet, and loaded it into the gun. He spun the chamber and closed it before pushing the hammer back. He looked up and saw a man with an unsteady hand holding a gun at him. "PUT YOUR HANDS UP OR ELSE!" It was not a command, it was a plea.
This wasn't the man who had shot him with mako bullets, but he would have to do for now. In one fluid motion Vincent was off the ground and his right hand easily ripped the collar of the man's uniform down and spun him around at the same time. That gave Vincent's teeth a clear shot at the back of the man's neck. He bit down with a vengeance and drank, this fool wasn't a virgin, but his blood would do for now. Vincent had to go find who had shot him.
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"Does that qualify as a distraction?" Sephiroth didn't need to hear what Melkore's response was. He turned his attention to the back of the house, and finally drew Masamune into his hands. "Niro, Alex, you two hit them right after I do. Mirri, ready to attack?" Mirri crouched underneath a window that had already been shot out. A new set of blades were already loaded into her gloves and she smiled at Sephiroth even as she crouched low to the floor.
"Okay, Sephiroth, you go out the door, I'll go out the window." Niro holstered his pistol and in the blink of an eye he transformed into his panther form. Alex, who had been lying on the floor, sprang to life. He muttered something so low that Sephiroth barely heard it, something along the lines of "about time" and started transforming from human to wolf.
Melkore watched both events in wordless surprise, before he finally spoke to the one person who he must have felt he could trust. "Mirri, I'm currently turning my house into the Alamo, fighting alongside General Sephiroth. Those things all well and good, but I just watched one guy turn into a cat and the other a dog. Could you please put my life in perspective?"
/Dog? Dog? DOG? Do I look like a dog to you? You're asking to discover what waits beyond this life, Glasswalker!\ Mirri, as usual, showed more amusement then compassion. "Melkore, it's not a good idea to call the werewolf a dog. Alex is a touch sensitive about it, same way Shinra is a touch sensitive about us blowing up their reactors."
Melkore paused, looked like he wanted to stroke some strings on his guitar but didn't want to waste ammo. "Oh, okay, so he's a lycanthrope. So long as he doesn't bury bones in my yard, I don't care. So what's the panther?" Sephiroth didn't have time for this, he could hear gunfire far too loudly. "Niro is a Shapeshifter, now Melkore, shut up. Mirri, let's roll!"
Mirri smiled, and Sephiroth needed only one smooth cut to take the door off its hinges. It fell backwards as Sephiroth strode across the door, and he instantly leapt for the cover he already knew existed. He leapt for the Eagle, and before the guards were halfway into their clips they stopped shooting.
He landed on the planes cockpit, and then in a smooth roll he slid across, the plane's wing and landed on the ground right in front of a guard. Then it was a contest between which was faster, Sephiroth's blade or the guard's gun. It wasn't that great a contest.
The man fell backwards, sliced in half and most of the other guards still didn't know where Sephiroth was. Almost to the tick that Sephiroth killed the guard, Mirri leapt through the window with a storm of blades leaving her gloves.
Niro and Alex followed suit, and as Sephiroth was claiming his second guard, those two took their first guards each. Before Sephiroth could take his third guard, he discovered that there weren't any left to deal with. "Melkore, the plane is ready!"
Melkore looked at the wreckage of his door, as he walked over it. "You are so going to pay for that General!"
Sephiroth didn't have time to respond to Melkore with a verbal comment after that. "We're leaving." Sephiroth didn't shout, he didn't have to; when he spoke, people listened, even if they shouldn't be able to hear him. Aeris exited the house with her staff strapped across her back like Sephiroth kept Masamune.
A moment later, James decided that the upstairs room he had been posted in didn't have enough windows. Granted, you couldn't exactly call it a window as he made it in the ceiling. Either way Melkore's house would have a much higher heating bill if he ever occupied it again.
The roof suddenly slid right off of Melkore's house, and right onto his lawn, crushing President Shinra's car, not to mention a few Shinra guards.
After James made his unique renovation he exited through it, slid down what was left of the roof, and landed perfectly on the tail of the plane. Melkore stopped attempting to start the plane and turned around to face him. "JAMES YOU ARE GOING TO PAY
FOR THAT TOO!"
James was too busy holding onto the yet unmoving plane to care what Melkore said. Niro transformed into something small and entered the cockpit with Melkore. Alex shifted back to his human form, and stared at the plane thoroughly unable to understand it. "Here Alex, try these!"
Mirri was currently lying flat on the plane with a blade from each of her gloves in the plane. She tossed Alex a pair of blades and he drove them into the plane, making a pair of improvised handholds. Melkore didn't even look up from the plane's control panel this time. "YOU TWO ARE GOING TO PAY FOR THE REPAIRS!"
Sephiroth grabbed Aeris around the waist with one hand (eliciting a reflexive, indignant squeak) and grabbed onto the plane with the other, muttering something about "lousy seating arrangements".
With one more jerk Melkore finally got the planes engines to come to life. A pair
of propellers started to turn, and he adjusted the thing so that it faced the landing strip he
had built. Sephiroth decided that it was time for another use of the Voice. "Vincent, we're leaving. Now."
Nothing happened at first, but after a minute, as Melkore began to take off
Sephiroth saw it. A swarm of solid black heading for them as the plane lifted off into the
air. It took the shape of Vincent Valentine holding onto the plane creating his own
handhold on the plane with his claw. Over the noise of the plane's engine, even Sephiroth couldn't hear what Melkore said, but he could guess. "VAMPIRE, IF WE SURVIVE YOU'RE GONNA PAY FOR THAT ALSO!"
As the plane began to gain altitude he turned it around, and did one last fly over his house. Sadly, whatever previous orders the Shinra troopers had to not harm the Eagle, they were disregarding them now. Gunfire filled the air around them. James was the worst off for the situation, because he was holding onto the tail. The same tail that happened to be punctured by several Shinra rounds. James rapidly moved back and forth without going anywhere, and somehow managed to avoid getting any new holes added to his person.
Though the tail was not the only part of the plane that was hit, it did get the worst. As the plane left the Shinra troops behind, it began to move erratically up and down, and Melkore pushed back the cockpit so everyone could hear his diagnosis. His first words were a very long series of expletives followed by "SHINRA, YOU'RE GONNA PAY FOR THAT ON TOP OF EVERYTHING ELSE!"
Once that had been said, he went onto to a more fact laden explanation. "We've lost the tail! I can't control the altitude! We're gonna have to crash land, just hope it's over water and not land!" Sephiroth held onto the plane for all he was worth and held onto Aeris for all she was. He was not about to let her die so easily! 'Her'? Where did 'her' come from? Sephiroth was momentarily disconcerted, before deciding that it was a simple slip of thought. She was one of his soldiers, that's all, and he never lost a soldier if he could help it.
End Chapter 16
OWAN: Suuure she is. And so, we see a sampling of Sephiroth's abilities, a glimpse of things to come, and the entrance of a new character, loosely based on the Firecat's brother. Please review, this was a long chapter and took a LOT of work.
FN 3: For those who may not have noticed, the conversation Vincent had with James' blood was loosely based on the Excel Saga theme song. We'll release a 'deleted scenes' chapter at some point, where you guys can see the full version of the joke. Or, if you request it, we can email it to you(requests via comment only, please)