Chapter Five

The people surrounding Sephiroth and Zack almost looked inhuman, their expressions twisted in abhorrance and their torches held high, casting shadows on their already monstrous faces. They continued to scream their accusations as they drew nearer, and Dalton marched in determination and indignation at their head.

Sephiroth felt an extreme wave of disgust at the display, and from the way Zack had straightened up and tensed, he was of the same mind. It was not surprising, that they would be the first to be accused. But Dalton had said to them only earlier that day that assault and battery, and theft, were common crimes in Dismal. Why should they be blamed for what was obviously more in-fighting?

"See here!" Dalton yelled as he came to stand in front of them. "This is what happens when the wolf is let in at the gate!" He grabbed Zack's gloved hand without warning, wrenching it into the air even as he struggling to pull free. "The blood is all over him! You will find that he was the one who held the knife! He was the one who stabbed it into this poor soul's form!"

"MURDERER!" screamed the villagers.

"NO!" Zack yelled at the same time, jerking away from Dalton's fierce grip. His eyes flashed, outraged at being accused of something so horrible. It was not true! "Seph and I were driving back from the saucer, and we saw this guy laying in the road! So we pulled over and got out to see if we could help him!" He swallowed hard. "Someone's a murderer, alright," he said, his voice lowering. "But it isn't either of us."

"We would never stoop so low," Sephiroth added coldly.

In response Dalton lashed out, slapping Zack across the cheek with force. "Brute! Look, the villager was even trying to defend himself with that brick, but it was no use." He looked to the people. "This crime must be avenged! This man must be killed to satisfy the departed!"

Zack stumbled back against Sephiroth, raising a hand slowly to his reddening flesh. At these words, a chill ran up his spine. This was a terrible predicament to be in! And with communications down, there was no way to call Shinra for help. He had not thought, had never imagined, that it would come to this, even though he had known from the start that there would be many dangers involved.

Sephiroth reached out, gently steadying the other. There was something off about Dalton's speech. He had always seemed falsely friendly, and now . . . now he seemed falsely enraged. He knew Zack had not done this crime! That had to be it. Dalton knew, and yet he was willing to frame an innocent man because of his hatred for Shinra. Maybe he had found the body and had seen an opportunity to breed more loathing for SOLDIER among the townspeople. Or maybe it was even someone who had been killed during a prison fight and they had dumped the corpse here, dressed in civilian clothes. In any case, Sephiroth was becoming certain that this was a setup. And he could not let this happen. He could not allow them to take Zack. Of course, Zack would not allow it either.

A hand fell back to the Masamune's hilt. "Shinra will not permit this man to die," he growled.

Immediately a sword was drawn by one of the townspeople, holding it lengthwise in front of Zack's neck. "Make one move to draw your weapon, dog, and this killer's throat will be slit on the spot!" he cried in a gnarled, rasping tone.

Before Sephiroth or Zack could retort, everyone present had drawn blades, and were pointing every one of them at the hapless SOLDIERs. Dalton, too, held a weapon---a gun. He sneered, the vindictive pleasure glittering on his face.

"Oh, Shinra had better not permit it," he chuckled, "and you shouldn't, either, sir." He brought the barrel of his revolver to Zack's forehead, as the brunet stood indignant and insulted. "Do you want to save him?" he continued, addressing Sephiroth even as he stared Zack in the eyes. "Then give yourself up as a hostage we can use to barter with Shinra. If not, we will use Mr. Fair to that end. And if Shinra refuses to meet our demands . . . well, then he dies tomorrow at sunrise."

Zack froze. No . . . Seph could not give into such orders. He would not. Surely he would know that it would not make any difference. They would both be taken hostage, if he did. And there was no guarantee that they would not both be prisoners even if he did not. And Shinra was not likely to give in to whatever outrageous desires these people would have. Most likely, they would deny it and try to send reinforcements to arrive before the execution.

Sephiroth was inwardly seething. What he wanted most right now was to abruptly draw the Masamune and cut down all of the opposition. But of course that would not be wise, or even practical. He and Zack would probably end up dead if he did something rash. This seemed to be a carefully thought-out scheme, though he was still unsure of whether everyone here was in on it or if it was only Dalton. But it did not matter much. Whether they believed Zack to be guilty or not, they all very clearly despised both he and Zack, simply because they happened to belong to SOLDIER.

Sephiroth's silence and hesitation only made Zack all the more uneasy. "Don't do it, Seph!" he cried, and earned the blade pressed right against his flesh.

"Not another word out of you, scum!" hissed its owner.

Zack glowered, but kept quiet. He did not think that they would kill him yet, but it was hard to say for certain. Maybe they would decide that Sephiroth was the one they really wanted, and they would make him witness Zack's death to torment him.

"I'm not going to be ordered around by terrorists." Sephiroth spoke firmly, coldly, his green eyes narrowed. "I won't do what you want of me." He knew it would not help Zack if he was taken captive---though he also knew that they still might try. But he would fight to the death if they did. If he had until sunrise, he could surely come up with something to save the other. And Zack would not merely sit around, twiddling his thumbs. They would work together, even if they would be apart, and get out of this mess.

"How are you going to contact Shinra?" Zack spoke again, despite the sharp metal being too close for comfort. "The storm's knocked out all communications!"

Dalton chuckled in a dark way. "I'm afraid not, Mr. Fair," he answered, confirming another of Zack's fears. "Dismal is blocking all communications. But it can easily be lifted to send a very important message to President Shinra." He continued to stay where he was, the gun held firmly to the SOLDIER's head. "By the authority I hold, you are now under arrest."

Zack swallowed hard, tensing as his hands were snatched and drawn behind his back. He did not want to do this, but in his current position, he could not try to fight the person who was tying his wrists together. He knew that he was innocent of the heinous crime of which he was accused. And he knew what Sephiroth had figured out---that Dalton knew it, too. Maybe the warden even knew who the real murderer happened to be.

He looked over at Sephiroth, who shook his head just slightly. They both wanted the same thing, but right now it was too much of a risk. They should not attempt at all to make an escape at this point. That would not solve the long-term problem even if they did succeed, and it was doubtful that they even would get far in the sandstorm. It had been whirling around them all this time, threatening to gain velocity and speed with every passing minute. No, it could not be done. As much as they both despised the only other option, Zack would have to do what they wanted . . . for now.

He looked back at Dalton steadily. "Go ahead and take me into custody then," he replied. "But I know you know that I didn't kill this guy. If you've gotta stoop to this level to get your revenge on Shinra, then you're acting like the kind of monster you think Seph and I are."

Dalton's eyes widened in shock, then narrowed to furious slits. "You dare to speak that way to me?" he screamed shrilly. "I have the power to grant both you and your comrade life or death!" He motioned for the villager to move his sword away from Zack's throat. Then he raised his hand high, intending to bring either the handle or the side of his gun down harshly onto the other's head.

With lightning speed, Sephiroth reached up and snatched Dalton's wrist, as Zack ducked out of the way at the same time. The silver-haired man regarded the warden with a look that would have burned most men. "Don't harm him," he ordered, gripping the wrist in a painful way. Shinra would not take kindly to Dalton torturing one of their best SOLDIERs. And Sephiroth would not take kindly to Dalton torturing his best friend. It was unnecessary and cruel---well, even more cruel than this disaster already had become.

And he hated what he had to do right now. He hated that he had to let Zack go with them. They would not kill him yet, not when he still was of some use to them, but that did not make the task easier. As a SOLDIER, he had to think of the greater good, of what would be best for all concerned. He could not do anything foolish that could result in the people of Dismal being able to launch their assault on Shinra and Midgar---but in the end, would this really be best for Zack? Would he be able to live with himself if Zack did end up being killed? There was no going back now.

Slowly Dalton began to smirk. "Very well," he said with a chuckle. "Very well, sir. But this is only one small victory for you. We will still win the war, and by arresting this killer, it has already begun. Hmm . . . maybe it isn't a victory at all for you," he amended. Then he turned around, watching approvingly as two of the strongest men were already taking hold of Zack's bound arms. Another held a sword to his back, making sure that he felt the prick of it against his shirt.

Feeling concerned eyes upon him, Zack struggled to glance over his shoulder. "Hey, Seph, don't worry about me," he said with a weak grin. "I've been in tight spots before."

Sephiroth grunted. "I'm not worried," he answered, as they forced the brunet to walk forward.

The green-eyed man clutched his arms tightly. To stand there, watching, just letting them take Zack away, was the most difficult thing he had ever had to do.

It was several long minutes later when he parked the car back at Dalton's home. Slowly he opened the door and got out, struggling to shield his eyes again from the increasingly furious sand. As quickly as he could, he ran onto the porch and pushed open the unlocked front door, practically slamming it behind him.

To get inside was definitely a relief, considering both the storm and the feeling that he had been shadowed all the way back. He had not heard Dalton give orders for anyone to do so, but maybe a villager had done it secretly, on his own, either because of wanting to see what the SOLDIER would do or else just wanting to try to make him nervous. It certainly made him irritated.

Ordinarily, he did not think that it would have been possible for someone to follow him in a wide open area. With the storm, and the decreased visibility, however, he imagined that would make quite a difference. The car's lights would probably be able to be seen, even with the angry weather, but a random person on foot would able to be concealed by the flying sand as well as by the night.

He curled his hand around his mouth, coughing from a bit of sand that had found its way inside. Now he would have to wait to find out what was going to happen to Zack. Judging from how things tended to go, that might take hours. And despite his patience, that seemed the worst torture of all for him. Was that what Dalton had wanted?

He had watched Zack being dragged through the gate next door, and it had made him all the more angry. If he had only been able to get a message through to Shinra earlier, to tell them that they needed to have a unit near to Dismal, ready to come at a moment's notice . . . ! As it was, maybe the reinforcements would not arrive in time to stop the execution. The sky was not a good judge of the time of day. And what if the storm kept communications down, even though Dalton believed a message would be able to be sent? Would that buy them more time, or would it only cause Zack to be killed for certain, and earlier than planned?

He pushed back the sleeve of his coat, checking his watch. It was almost six o'clock. How had that much time passed? It did not seem as though that much day could have actually come and gone.

The sound of feet running down the stairs made him look up sharply. Maryn was rushing over, but she stopped still in confusion when she only saw Sephiroth.

"You got caught in the storm!" she exclaimed, taking in his windblown, disheveled hair, his rumpled clothes, and the sand adorning all of that as well as any bare flesh it had been able to attack.

Sephiroth nodded wearily, not caring as he ran a hand through his hair and heard the grains of sand fall out onto the tiled floor. Someone else could clean it up. The first thing he was going to do now was to take a shower and use Dalton's laundry room. And if Dalton did not like it, that was too bad.

Maryn bit her lip. "Where's Zack?" she asked softly. Somehow she knew that she did not want to hear the answer, and yet it was not something she could bear to not be told.

Sephiroth looked down at her, seeing this in her expression. He would treat her as an adult, letting her know exactly what had happened. She deserved the truth. She was strong enough to take it.

"He's been arrested," he said solemnly, "on false charges."

Maryn gasped in alarm, tears immediately brimming her eyes. It was as she had feared. "They're gonna kill him!" she sobbed. "They're gonna. . . . They hate Shinra and SOLDIERs so much, and it's not fair! You and Zack didn't do anything to them!"

Sephiroth pulled off his gloves, stuffing them into a pocket. Then he laid a hand on her head as he walked by. "It isn't fair," he agreed, and explained. "They want to use him to get what they want, and if they can't, then yes, they want to kill him." He narrowed his eyes as he started to climb the steps. "But it won't be allowed."

She looked up shakily. "You'll stop them, won't you, Mr. Sephiroth?"

He gripped the banister, his knuckles going white. "Of course I will," he retorted then, making his way up the flight of steps. Yes, he would stop them. He had to stop them. Zack would not have to be sacrificed in order to bring down these madmen. That was unacceptable.

"Zack won't let them do it, either," he added as he reached the top. He could just imagine them struggling to get Zack to the gallows---as he remembered being told during the tour that in Dismal, criminals were executed by hanging. Zack would be fighting furiously every step of the way. He had to smirk slightly as he imagined how that would frustrate the guards.

"I won't let them, either!" Maryn's voice was quiet, probably not meant to be heard, but it was filled with determination.

Sephiroth turned back to face her, his expression completely serious and stern. "Don't do anything foolish," he scolded. The last thing he needed was for the child to get herself into some drastic predicament as well. He did not have time to go chasing after her.

Maryn pouted, averting her gaze to the floor. She did not really know what she could do, but that did not mean that she did not want to do something. Zack had been so kind to her, and friendly. She did not want anything terrible to happen to him! But despite her young age, she had seen and heard many things concerning Dalton's and the townspeople's feelings toward Shinra and SOLDIER, and once she had known that Shinra was sending a couple of their warriors to investigate things, she had been afraid that something wretched would happen.

"I . . . I just want to help him," she said, her voice breaking.

Sephiroth's expression softened. "You can help him best by staying out of trouble," he told her before turning and heading to his room.

Zack thought he was prepared for what would happen once they got him in the prison. They all hated him, and would surely want to make things as difficult as they could. But even so, he still gasped in pain and surprise when they shoved him from behind with such force that he pitched forward onto the cold, hard floor. Agony rippled through his chest from the impact, spreading to all other parts of his body. If he had only been able to bring his hands out to balance himself . . . !

Above him, he could hear the villagers laughing. Then one of them delivered a rough kick to his side, and he grit his teeth to keep from crying out.

"Not so tough now, are you, dog?" the man cackled.

"A cur only needs to be taught its proper place!" chimed a second.

A third bent down, straddling the brunet and grabbing a handful of wild, spiked hair. Abruptly he jerked his arm, forcing Zack's head up and back. "What do you think of this?" he taunted. "You weren't expecting we'd catch you in your crime, were you?"

The SOLDIER's eyes remained impassive as the grizzled face looked down at him. He would endure this in silence. It was useless to speak, and that was probably what they wanted, anyway---to goad him into saying something that they could ridicule. He would not let them be satisfied!

He wondered if he was going to be able to find a way out of here. It would certainly be more difficult, if they were going to leave his hands tied. And what would he be able to do even if he did get free? His sword had been taken from him, and he could not defeat all of the guards plus the townspeople. Would it be possible, or even wise, to try to make friends with the inmates and orchestrate a prison break? They had been unhappy by his interference during the tour earlier that day. Even if he could promise them a way out, they would probably all turn against him. It was probably safer to keep them where they were.

Heavy footsteps approached again, and he looked to see Dalton coming back, presumably from his office. He had gone in ahead of everyone else, and Zack wondered if he had been trying to place a call to Shinra. Now, his almost satiated smile made the raven-haired man's stomach turn in disgust.

"Alright, boys, enough for now," he said, making a show of shooing them away as they protested. "I'm sure you'll have time for your fun later, as I doubt Shinra will be smart enough to grant us our desires." He crouched down, looking into Zack's eyes. "The call is being placed now, in the security room," he announced. "I'll need you there, Mr. Fair, so that they know I'm not bluffing." He smirked. "Can you get up yourself?"

Zack was determined to do so. He did not want this man to mockingly help him stand. He concentrated hard, trying to maneuever first his knees to bend, and then to push his upper body upright. That was easy enough, but standing up from there was definitely harder without the use of his hands. He managed, however, and made it up faster than Dalton seemed to think he would.

The brown-haired man smirked cruelly. "Do follow me," he said.

As the villagers filed out of the building, a guard approached Zack from behind and prodded him in the back with some kind of sharp weapon. He narrowed his eyes, walking forward to catch up to Dalton and wishing fervently that he could escape the poking sensation between his shoulder blades.

One of the console operators looked up as they entered the room a moment later. "Shinra is on the line, sir," he announced, gesturing above him. On every one of the screens in the center row, President Shinra's angry and flabbergasted face could be seen. As Zack was pushed to stand in front of them, the older man's expression darkened further.

"So, you've gotten yourself into quite a predicament," he commented irritably.

Zack tried to grin. "Yep, looks that way, Mr. President," he said cheerfully. "I dunno what these people want, but I could make a guess. . . ."

Dalton crossed his arms, gazing up at the screens as well. "Well, as you can see, this is not a bluff. Your other precious SOLDIER is in my house, unable to do anything about this arrest. Mr. Fair was caught with the deceased's blood on his hands, and the knife had obviously been handled by him. Unless you meet the demands of the village Dismal, he will be executed like the criminal he is, come the dawn."

President Shinra glowered, clenching his fists on his desk. "What do you want, Dalton?" he demanded. "My company has stayed out of your business for years, and it would have remained so, had the rumors of the uprising not circulated!"

The warden smiled again in that sickening way. "We want you to get off the Western continent," he replied. "Dismantle all mako reactors and vacate your bases within a month, beginning within the hour. Unless you'd prefer being sent footage of Mr. Fair dangling from our hangman's noose. And don't think the great Sephiroth would be allowed to leave, either!"

The owner of Shinra Company regarded Dalton with disgust. "I have no guarantee that they would not simply be killed by you even if I did agree to your preposterous request!" he retorted. "Your hatred of Shinra and SOLDIER runs so deep that it eliminates reason!" He leaned back. "But I could still be merciful to you. I could send some of my best construction workers to assist you in rebuilding your village . . ."

"No!" Dalton's eyes blazed. "We don't want any help from you or your foul corporation. The demands are final. Agree, or your men will perish."

President Shinra closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to restrain his temper. Then he opened them again, and they were firm and unshaken. "Very well. I know it's always pointless trying to reason with your kind." He looked to Zack briefly, then back to Dalton. "I will never give in to your foolishness. If Zack and Sephiroth cannot remove themselves from this situation, then I overestimated them as being the best and the strongest SOLDIERs."

Zack watched him, the silent message received. Reinforcements would be sent to them immediately, if they could just hold out long enough. And he would see that they did.

A shiver went up his spine when he saw Dalton's expression only twist further in dark delight. "And that's your final answer?" he asked. It almost seemed that the thought of torturing and killing two SOLDIERs was more pleasing to him than even having his demands met. Had he wanted President Shinra to refuse? Zack was suddenly ten times more disturbed.

President Shinra seemed to notice as well. He hesitated, but then gave a firm nod. "It is."

Dalton chuckled malevolently. "You will regret this, sir," he promised. "But I won't." With that he leaned over and pressed a button on the console. All of the center screens went black, the communiqué ended.

Zack smirked at him. "I think maybe you're putting all those eggs in one basket," he said. "Seph and me, we're pretty tough guys."

Dalton looked up at him, nodding all the while. "Of course, I know," he said. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be Shinra's favorites. But I think your arrogance needs to be taken down a notch. Guard!"

The sentry behind Zack, whom Zack had not yet seen, chuckled low. "Now?" he purred.

Again Zack felt a chill. It was Rakesh.

Dalton met his gaze with cruel delight. "Yes," he confirmed. "But to make it more fun, untie his hands and let him have his weapon." He glanced back to Zack. "Let's see how long you will last, Mr. Fair!"

The wild idea crossed Zack's mind that maybe, when they undid the ropes, he could suddenly break free and run for it. He would not get very far without being able to activate the drawbridge, but maybe, maybe if he could scale the wall, he would be able to leap across the quicksand. Then he and Seph could regroup and decide what to do.

Rakesh reached over, slicing through the bonds with a knife. In the next second, Zack shoved him back and dashed desperately for the door. He made it into the hall, kicking one guard back and grabbing onto the second's weapon. Struggling to tug it loose from the viselike grip, he abandoned the idea when he heard Rakesh and Dalton both tearing after him. Instead he let go without warning and pushed past. If he could just make it to the end of the hall, to the door. . . .

Without warning, more guards stepped into his path at the end of the corridor. The one in the lead held out his spear, jabbing it forward, and before Zack could do anything, crackling fire ripped through his body. He froze, his eyes widening in anguish as the electricity surged through him. It only lasted for a split-second, but that was much too long. Shuddering and gasping, he collapsed to his knees.

He was so foolish! he berated himself. He should have realized such an escape attempt would not work. Well, he had realized, he corrected himself, but he had made up his mind to try it anyway. After all, he would never know for certain until he did. And now he knew. He clutched desperately at the floor tiles, willing the pain to pass.

Well, he tried to joke in his mind, now I know how a lightbulb would feel, if it could feel anything.

The side of another weapon suddenly and viciously batted him across the head, not hard enough to render him unconscious, but most certainly hard enough to send another, dizzying wave of agony throughout his brain. Unprepared for it, he was knocked off-balance slightly and then kicked to the floor. Rakesh stood over him in twisted amusement, the point of his pole aimed at Zack's chest.

"And now that you've had your little, futile laugh by trying to get away, let's get down to business, shall we?" He grinned, his cerulean eyes flickering with pernicious anticipation.

Zack glared at him. "You'll have to let me up first," he retorted.

Rakesh laughed, stepping aside just enough so that Zack could ease his body into an upright position, but not enough so that he could make another getaway attempt. "I told you that you would have to answer to me eventually," he hissed in an undertone as he watched his soon-to-be victim shakily stand.

Zack kept his hand on the wall for support, his breathing slowing down to normal. His cold gaze clearly said that he was unafraid. He was angry, he was indignant, and he was resolute. He would not let Rakesh have the last laugh.

It was decided---by Rakesh, of course---that they would have their battle in a bare, windowless back room that was supposed to be the gymnasium. Two guards stood just outside the door, while two more were just inside. The prisoners, delighted at the news that one of the "Shinra dogs" had been captured, were allowed to sit on several rusted bleachers at one side of the room, to watch. A wall made of a chainlink fence was in front of them, to prevent them from running out onto the floor. This was Rakesh's chance to be in the spotlight, and he did not want interference from anyone.

"Alright, dog," he said, still in that same, menacing undertone. "Let's see how ferocious you really are." He and Zack were standing in the center, he with his pole and Zack with his sword. They were looking at each other, each one's eyes filled with firm tenacity. Neither intended on losing, but unless things would end up a draw, someone would have to do so.

Without warning Rakesh lunged, his pole held straight in front of him. Zack then charged as well, crashing his sword against the black, stick part of the weapon. From the steel spear at the top, electricity crackled. The spiky-haired man glowered at it. Of course, the fight would have to be unfairly tipped in the other's favor, instead of giving him a sword to use as well. Or maybe he did not even know how to wield one.

Rakesh sneered, throwing all of his weight into forcing Zack backwards. The SOLDIER held on tightly to the hilt of his sword, standing his ground and trying equally hard to send Rakesh away from him. At last he succeeded, and the sentry stumbled back several steps. Before he could recover, Zack was lunging again.

But the sadistic man had his own ideas. Immediately he leaned forward, crashing the spear against his opponent's blade and keeping it in place for several long, agonizing seconds. Zack stared back at him, his wide eyes filled with endless anguish as the electricity traveled through his sword, to his hands, and into his body. When the force was finally released, he staggered back, breathing heavily as he struggled to stay standing. He had been half-expecting something like this to happen, but that did not lessen the misery.

And before he had a chance to recover, Rakesh was coming at him again. Zack clenched his teeth, constraining himself to raise the sword just in time to block the attack. He would not get any relief until this was over, and maybe not even then. Or maybe that was Seph's pessimism rubbing off on him. In any case, he would have to push himself as he had not been forced to do for some time. He refused to play dirty, as Rakesh was doing. If he could not win honestly, then he did not deserve the victory.

The other dark-haired man sneered at Zack as their weapons crashed. "I have much more where that came from," he said, noting Zack's trembling. "If I turn it up a couple more notches, you wouldn't survive three blasts. Maybe not even two." He leaned in further, kicking Zack in the abdomen as well as pushing him back.

The SOLDIER hissed in pain as he stumbled. But then he charged without warning, surprising Rakesh and sending him back several paces. He could not tell whether the guard believed that he would have an easy triumph, but that would not happen. Zack would show him what it meant to fight one of Shinra's warriors!

The battle became easier for a time. Both moved across the floor gracefully, almost in a dance, as their weapons collided again and again. Rakesh tried once more to shock Zack with the spear, but this time the other was completely ready for it and dodged. Then he swept out, nearly knocking the pole from the sentry's hands. Rakesh faltered, barely managing to keep hold of it as he whirled around. Zack was right there, and brought his sword down against the rod as soon as the other turned.

Throughout it all, the crowd alternately cheered, jeered, and screamed for blood. They were merely an infernal din, somewhere vaguely in the background, to Zack. He did not pay attention to anything they were shouting. He was entirely focused on this fight, and from Rakesh's eyes, it was obviously the same for him.

The dance of combat continued. At some points, it could go either way. At other times, Zack was clearly in the lead. And still, there were periods when Rakesh had the upper hand.

Both lost track of time after a while. The only indication of how long they had been going was their own and each other's increasing weariness. But they continued to attack as fiercely as they possibly could, and both were bleeding from wounds of varying seriousness.

Rakesh doubled over, grinning insanely as he clutched his electropole. "I must admit, it's been a long time since I've experienced such a fulfilling battle," he said, bringing the weapon to his side.

Zack frowned, instantly on guard. Rakesh would never surrender. He must be planning a surprise assault. The SOLDIER held his sword tightly in front of him, trying to ignore the blood running down his arm.

"It's nothing less than I'd expect from one of Shinra's finest." Now the sentry straightened up and half-turned, as if indeed he was going to walk out of the room. "But . . ."

Suddenly he turned back, making a running leap into midair as he jabbed his pole downward at his enemy. "Now it all ends!" he screamed.

He was not prepared for the blade to abruptly connect with the rod. Zack swung it with as much velocity as he could muster, and Rakesh's mouth opened in a silent yelp as he plummeted out of the air and to the floor. The stick flew out of his grasp, and before he could get enough of his bearings to reach for it, Zack had stepped on it with one foot and was leaning forward on the other, pressing the blade against Rakesh's throat.

For a long moment they remained in that position, simply staring at each other as if each wondered what the other would do next. But then Rakesh smirked, seeing something that Zack did not. The spiky-haired man narrowed his eyes, again having that sinking feeling. . . .

Something hard came down on the back of his head. He gasped, his grip on the hilt loosening just enough that Rakesh was able to scramble away and pull his own weapon out from under Zack's foot. The SOLDIER stumbled back further, his balance lost.

As he fell to the floor, he saw that half a dozen guards were surrounding him. Rakesh had played unfairly once again, having secretly recruited others into the battle once he knew that he could not win.

"Do you know what true pain is, Shinra dog?" he asked, his voice dripping with hatred.

Zack lay flat on his back, glaring up at his nemesis as he struggled to keep hold of his weapon.

Rakesh's wicked smile widened. "You're about to find out."

All of the guards lowered their weapons at him, blasting at once.

And Zack could no longer remain silent.

Sephiroth was sitting in a chair in one of the many richly furnished rooms that looked out at the prison. His still-damp hair was spread around him, the long bangs brushing against his cheeks as he leaned back and stared at the ceiling.

Communications were still out, at least for him. Neither his cellphone nor the telephones in the house would work. He could only hope that Shinra was sending reinforcements after the assumed conversation with Dalton, and that they would arrive in time. But he knew he could not depend on it. He had to be ready to fight in a moment's notice, if need be.

He had not been that hungry, but he had eaten dinner earlier, when the maids prepared it. He would need all the strength he could get for such an assault, if he and Zack alone had to go against everyone else. Even with their combined power, he doubted that they could possibly bring down all of Dismal. But they would die trying, if it came to that.

The bad feeling he had been having ever since Zack had been taken had grown tenfold, and he was certain it was not unfounded. The head guard's words from earlier that day had been weighing on his mind, and it was likely that the monster was having all kinds of "fun" with Zack. And no matter what Zack did, he would probably end up outnumbered. He was a strong fighter, but not even he could manage to battle so many people at once and win.

"Mr. Sephiroth?"

He started. Apparently he had become so caught up in his reverie that he had not heard Maryn enter the room. The clock had chimed two in the morning not that long ago, but apparently the girl had been unable to sleep. He looked over at her, narrowing his eyes when he saw her helplessness and the crystals brimming in her innocent green orbs. Something else had happened.

"What is it?" he asked, trying to keep his voice level. Had she heard something else about Zack? If she had, it could not be good news.

Her lower lip trembled. "M-Mr. Dalton had a guard come over and he said . . . he said . . ." Her shoulders shook, and abruptly she was running forward, climbing onto the startled Sephiroth's lap. "He said that they've been hurting Zack!" she wailed, gripping the edges of his dark coat.

The silver-haired man stared down at her. The guard had delivered the message to Maryn and had expected her to bring it to him? He supposed it should not surprise him. They did not stop at any despicable act.

He gripped her small arms, causing her to tearfully look up at him again. "Is that all that was said?" he demanded. Of course this was hard for her to have to talk about, but if there was anything Sephiroth could do, he needed to know it right now. He could not wait for her to finish weeping.

She shook her head weakly. "H-He said that they'd beat him up and shocked him until he couldn't move, and that he was almost un- . . ." Here she paused, biting her lip as she tried to remember the big, unfamiliar word that they had used.

"Unconscious?" Sephiroth supplied in a grim tone.

That sounded right. She nodded, more tears leaking down her face. "And . . . and he said that Pres'dent Shinra wouldn't give them what they wanted. . . ." And while she did not know what that meant, either, she knew it was bad from the way the man had smirked when he had said it.

None of this surprised Sephiroth, but it angered him. He wanted to go to his friend, he wanted to get him out of the prison and leave with him, even without their mission accomplished. But that could not be. They could not allow all of this to be in vain. That was the last thing Zack would want, and Sephiroth would not concede defeat to these eco-terrorists! There had to be a way to rescue Zack and also beat these men, crazed with the idea of spilling the blood of SOLDIERs.

He gazed down at the child as she began to sob again in earnest, burying her face against his chest. She was afraid for Zack, and upset that he had been injured. And he did not blame her. He was afraid and upset too. Slowly he released her arms, his hands falling back onto the arms of the chair.

"Crying isn't going to help anything," he muttered, not unkindly.

"I know," she answered sadly, her voice muffled.

He sighed. "How long ago did this happen to Zack?"

"It . . . I guess it must've been hours ago. . . ." She looked up at him, struggling to wipe away the rest of her tears. "He said Zack was still laying in his cell, and that he hadn't moved much at all!"

Sephiroth narrowed his eyes. They had hurt the brunet seriously.

He let her stay on his lap as he turned his attention to the window. It had been hours now, and the sands seemed to have quieted, but the sky was still gray and dark and ominous. All the lights at the prison were on, as they had been, and there were other lights approaching---many red-orange, flickering beams. He sat up straighter. Torches . . . the villagers were back. He could hear them laughing wretchedly as they all began to walk over the open drawbridge. But . . . why were they able to get through? Why had it been lowered in the middle of the night?

The realization hit him sharply, as a slap in the face. They were not going to wait until sunrise to execute Zack.

Immediately he stood, lifting Maryn in his strong arms and then setting her in the chair. "I have to go," he told her, grabbing up his sword from where he had leaned it against a nearby table.

She swallowed hard, blinking back a new round of tears. "Are you going to save Zack?" she asked softly.

He hesitated, then nodded. Of course he would.

She gave him a shaky smile before he turned, heading out of the room.

Zack hissed, holding a hand over his throbbing side. He had been laying in the same position for hours on his cot---at least he imagined it had been hours. Maybe it had only been five minutes. Several times he had attempted to rise, but had soon given it up as impossible when the dizziness almost entirely had overwhelmed him. Even being horizontal, with his eyes shut, did little to quell it.

If this is the damage those things can do when they're set to a low speed, I don't wanna know what it feels like when they're going full blast! he thought ruefully.

He had to admit, he was grateful that he had been given one of the few vacant chambers. Maybe they had been afraid that if they put him with anyone else, he would end up dead and they would not get to kill him themselves. Wow . . . Seph's oh-so-cheerful personality really was rubbing off on him.

He wondered where Seph was, and if he was alright. Had he heard yet, that President Shinra had refused the demands and that the execution was still going to happen on schedule? What were they going to do if their backup was not able to get there soon enough? The last thing he wanted was to end up hanging from the gallows the next day. And it certainly would not do if Sephiroth joined him.

His dream had indicated that he himself had lived, while Sephiroth had been the one to die. Would that still take place? No . . . it could not. Sephiroth would not let it, nor would Zack. If at all possible, they would both make it out alive.

As if from far away, he heard the rusty door to his cell creak open, and heavy footsteps trooped over to his bed. "Get up, cur," laughed one of the guards, and struck Zack across the face.

He was too weakened to make any kind of response. But he winced from the force of the blow.

"Still defiant, eh?" taunted a second.

Without warning Zack suddenly found himself on the floor. The thin mattress had been pulled right out from underneath him! He groaned, placing a hand on the concrete as he sluggishly tried to move away from his tormentors. Why, why could they not leave him alone now? He wanted to lay on the bed longer, to maybe be able to sleep a while. He probably had slept somewhat, unnaturally in unconsciousness, but he wanted a normal slumber, one that might be able to rejuvenate him before they tried to end his life. Of course, it would be too much to hope that they would show him any kind of courtesy.

Before he could succeed in even moving an inch, the sentries were hauling him up, draping his limp arms over their broad shoulders. "Come on, you," the first snapped, calling Zack a foul name.

Zack tried to get his feet under him as they began to drag him out into the corridor. Through his blurry vision, he could see that they were moving in a direction he only vaguely recalled from the tour. At the end of the hallway, they turned to the left and walked down another corridor, and at the end of it, it looked like he could see a door. Where did it lead? He could not quite remember what Dalton had said. . . .

It led out into a courtyard, he thought, and people would gather there to watch. . . . To watch what? Even now, he could hear the yells and chants of a mob outside.

His eyes widened, and he snapped back to awareness as much as he was able. They were going to kill him now! That had to be it. He had to get away. He was in no condition to put up a very good fight! But then, that was probably what they had been wanting.

He struggled, trying desperately to pull free from his captors.

They held on tighter. "Starting to come around, eh?" sneered the second. "You're not so arrogant now."

At the door, they were met by Dalton, who smirked and held it open for them. "Why, Mr. Fair," he mocked, "you don't seem to be enjoying our hospitality." He laughed cruelly, seeming to find it a hilarious joke. Zack looked away from him.

The villagers had made two long lines on either side of the door, and as Zack was mercilessly pulled to the end of the path, the constant, deplorable taunts and jeers from the crowd rang in his ears. It was the same sort of thing over and over---he deserved what they were doing, since he belonged to SOLDIER. No one from Shinra was any good, especially the more highly-ranked said person happened to be. Obscene curses and phrases came from some of the others, as well as gestures of the same breeding.

Zack tried to block all of it out, just as he had done during the fight with Rakesh. Instead he tugged and pulled, kicked and flailed, his desperation mounting. The men dragging him to his demise looked as though they wanted more than anything to throw him to the ground as punishment, but they did not dare. If they let go of him at all, he would try to scramble away. But he had to get free! He did not want to die. He would not die, not here, not now. It would not serve any good purpose. And he had to stay alive to help Seph. . . .

They reached the gallows, lit up eerily by the townspeople's torches. In the dim light, it almost looked like some sort of sinister and rancorous beast laying in wait for its next victim. The two guards hauled their prisoner onto the platform of the creature, wrenching his arms behind him as he stumbled forward, his legs shaking.

His heart was pounding and racing wildly. He would not go quietly, as he had done several hours earlier! He would not stand for this treatment! He strained against their grips, finally resorting to kicking behind him. His foot connected with something, maybe a knee, and he heard a rough growl and an oath from one of the men.

Dalton had ascended the platform from the other side, and now Zack could see that he was the one holding the noose. His expression twisted malevolently as he leaned forward to drape it around the raven-haired man's neck. "Welcome to Dismal," he hissed.

Zack drew back, feeling the other's hot breath on his face. Then, with a burst of adrenaline, he lashed out and struck the warden on the knee. Dalton fell back, still clutching the rope.

Now the spiky-haired man pulled again, frantically, tearing loose from the two sentries as he urgently ran across the wooden planks. If he could just get to the other side! If he could just get down from there, and if he just had his weapon to be able to fight through the crowds . . . !

Rakesh smirked at him as he walked up the steps to the platform, brandishing his spear in front of him. "It's so good to see you again, Shinra dog," he said, his eyes glittering with hate. "This time, there's no escape."

Zack clenched his fists. He was being surrounded again, but he would not accept that! He lunged forward, snatching Rakesh's weapon and then shoving it back into the other man. With a surprised gasp, the guard tumbled back down the stairs to crash unceremoniously into a group of men with torches held high. They yelled in consternation, stumbling back into those behind them, and pandemonium was unleashed.

Now Zack made a half-turn, rushing towards the back of the platform. He would jump down and run. That was his only possible choice. . . .

The rope suddenly went around his neck from behind, pulling taut as it quickly began to burn the inside of his throat. He gasped, his eyes beginning to water as he clawed at it with his fingers. No . . . no, he was not going to die this way! He would not, he would not. . . .

The planks fell out, dragging him back into place near the front and leaving an empty hole where the floor had been. Panic and anger surged through him as he dangled there, still tearing at the rope with his hands and trying to find something with which to get his footing. But it was hopeless. Every fibre of his body was screaming that this could not be, that he had to be able to find a way out. Yet . . . if he could not, then . . . then it was only fitting that he accept this fate and die with dignity. His hands dropped.

The people were still taunting, still jeering, pleased to see him hanging there, unable to do anything to defend himself. The words did not affect him. Nothing they could say could really bother him. Nothing at all. . . .

"Where's your friend, dog? Did he skip out, trying to save himself?"

It pierced him sharply, more painfully than any of the shocks from the electropoles. No! No, Seph would never do that. Seph was his best friend, not just his compatriot. But . . . where was he? Why was he not here? Were they trying to kill him somewhere else? Was he in some other kind of a jam? That was the only reason why he would not be here. Zack shut his eyes tightly. Whatever was wrong, Seph would find a way out, somehow. Even if Zack did not survive, Seph had to.

Footsteps began to move up to the platform, steadily yet swiftly. Now what? Zack opened his eyes again. A man in a black cloak, along with the traditional executioner's mask, was coming to stand on the edge of the planks. He regarded Zack with his shaded eyes, then looked to Dalton on the other side.

"You started without me," he said flatly. "I don't appreciate it."

Dalton shrugged. "It was the only way we could keep him from making a run for it. Even after the beating he took . . ." He trailed off, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head.

Zack followed his gaze just in time to see the flash of a blade. Then, suddenly, the rope was sliced through and he crashed through the gaping hole, landing on the ground underneath it. Was it possible? Was this real? Yes! He was free! And he could breathe. . . . He shuddered and gasped, gulping in the precious air as his hands flew to his neck. Coughs racked his body, but he barely paid attention.

Something hit the ground next to him. He looked up with a start, seeing the familiar blade of a sword. His sword. . . . He blinked, shakily reaching for the hilt. Where had it come from? And . . . the executioner. . . . Could it be . . . ?

He looked up questioningly as the other man stared down at him. In his left hand he was holding the blade that he had used to cut through the deathrope.

"If you're feeling up to it, you'd better take that," he declared, indicating Zack's sword. "We've got a long way to go before we'll be able to get out of here." He threw off the cloak and the hood. There was no point any longer in keeping up this charade. His sword and his actions had already revealed the truth.

Zack broke into a grin, using the sword to balance on as he pulled himself upright. "You took your time," he said, giving Sephiroth a mock salute.

The silver-haired man grunted. "It couldn't be helped," he answered, and turned to deal with whoever would be the first of their challengers.