Chapter Six

Even though Dalton had been initially stunned by Sephiroth's sudden appearance, he quickly got over his shock. His face twisted in a wild, crazed expression, revealing all of his gleaming teeth as well as his flashing eyes. And, as he watched the silver-haired man cut down one of the guards, as well as Zack climbing up through the hole in the platform, he began to laugh.

"Well, of course!" he chortled. "Where are my manners? Imagine, trying to execute Mr. Fair without allowing the great Sephiroth the chance to watch." He reached into his pocket for his gun. "Really, sir, it was a test. I wanted to see if you would figure things out, and then if you did, if you could find a way to get in here. And I have not been disappointed." He smirked, the metal gleaming in his hand as he started to raise it.

Sephiroth was only half-listening, occupied now with the villagers that were rushing at him. Interestingly, he seemed to be trying to keep them alive, and was dodging the swings of their torches and the kicks of their feet. They were outraged at having their "fun" interrupted, and they were acting like fools because of it! Dalton frowned slightly. It would serve them right if Sephiroth did cut any of them down. At least, if they were going to fight, they should be smart enough to set their torches aside and get their weapons. Honestly, he wondered if he had made a mistake by thinking that they were ready to go up against SOLDIER.

He brought the gun level with the back of Sephiroth's head. He did not expect to kill the other now, especially when he was constantly moving about, but it would surely be possible to graze him at least---to distract him and taunt him.

A sword abruptly connected with the revolver, sending it flying out of Dalton's hands to fire harmlessly into the wood underneath him. Quickly he looked up, finding himself staring at an unhappy Zack. The brunet was smirking darkly, his eyes obviously showing his displeasure.

"I know it's probably a foreign concept to you, but why not try to fight fairly sometime?" he said, holding the sword out in front of him.

Dalton chuckled. "You speak of fighting fairly, but do you practice what you preach?" he retorted.

"I always try my best." Zack hoped that his fatigue was not showing. He had been given his second wind when Sephiroth had set him loose, but he did not know how long it would last. The whole situation still seemed hopeless, but he was not ready to give up. He would battle to the best of his abilities, and he would not let Seph down! He would not let himself down, either.

Now Dalton smirked. "Well, you'll have quite a challenge," he answered. "Let's see how honestly you can fight when . . ."

Semi-automatic gunfire zipped past, peppering the structure from which the noose hung. Zack leaped back, staring in disbelief at the newly-made holes. What was going on? Who was even firing? He looked over to Sephiroth, who had also stopped and was surveying the courtyard with narrowed eyes.

"There," he said then, pointing to a figure on the roof of the prison.

Again Dalton broke into raucous laughter. "It seems that I still have some surprises in store," he remarked. "You may have suspected I had weapons, good sir, but did you imagine that the convicts would be wielding some of them?" He also gazed upward, watching as more figures appeared. Each one was holding a weapon, and several others threw more over the side of the building, to be caught by some of the villagers. As they accepted, they extinguished their torches and prepared for combat.

Sephiroth narrowed his eyes. This was not something he had expected. There were not that many townspeople to begin with, but when two people had to fight them, there were too many. And with the convicts added to those numbers. . . .

Dalton raised a hand. "Ready?" he called. Guns clicked in unison. "Aim. . . ."

Zack backed up against the other, tightly gripping his sword. "Hoo boy," he muttered. "Are you ready for this, Seph?"

"No," Sephiroth grunted, "but there's no choice. We'll have to be ready."

Zack grinned weakly. "Looks like we might still meet up in the afterlife today."

Instead of answering, Sephiroth jumped down to the ground. They would have to keep moving as much as possible in order to have the best protection they could, under the circumstances. It was difficult to hit a target that would not stay still. Zack knew this as well, of course, and he leaped down in the opposite direction. Staying alive might be able to be accomplished, but staying alive as well as eliminating the threat was going to be a tall order. They were hopelessly outnumbered on all sides.

"FIRE!"

Immediately bullets began to rain upon them. Zack somersaulted, twisted, and danced around the yard, deflecting the shots as he looked for a good place to take cover. They would have only been sitting ducks under the gallows, and there was really no other place. If they could just somehow lure everyone into the prison and trap them there . . . !

A bullet clipped his cheek as a gunner dropped into his path. He continued to fire at close range, while Zack began to walk backwards, using his sword as a shield as he went. This was going to quickly become exhausting, even moreso than swordfighting. There were so many little bits of ammunition, coming constantly at him from so many angles, and he had to keep perfectly alert to match all of them. If he missed even one, well, that could be the end for him.

All the while, his mind was turning, plotting, trying to sort out this mad idea of his. The only way to get everyone trapped in the prison would be if he could disable the control panel for the drawbridge, as well as to get Dalton's remote control. He and Seph would still be able to get out by using that device, and surely no one would dare to try following them by scaling the wall and risk falling into the quicksand. His earlier thoughts of being able to leap over the mire really were absurd. It was much too wide for anyone to be able to clear.

And there was another problem. Would everyone follow him and Seph inside, or would some of them suspect the trap? It would be so easy to do this if there was an entire army. Then the enemy could be surrounded and herded inside. But that would not be possible with only two.

Zack narrowed his eyes as a second gunman approached him from another angle. Desperately he swerved and turned, back and forth, deflecting everything he possibly could and dodging the rest. He was still heading towards the side entrance to the building, but if he managed to get in, then what? There were quite probably others already within, just waiting for the chance to attack. But he would not concede defeat yet. And he knew Seph would not. Even if they could not win, they had to be able to keep things going until the other SOLDIERs arrived.

He backed up against the door, pushing it open with his foot. Then, diving into the apparently empty corridor, he slammed the door shut in the faces of his pursuers. It would only take them a moment to haul it open again, but he would use that split-second to get a bit of a headstart.

Not waiting to see what they were doing, he turned and fled down the hallway that was against the lefthand wall. Glass broke and bullets soared in behind him through the new opening in the door, one whizzing into the stone right above his head. Not skipping a beat, he continued to run. If he could get to the security room, and figure out how to shut down the control panel. . . . Though, it would be dangerous to do that without first securing the remote control. The last thing he wanted to do was to trap him and Seph in here with everyone. And where was Dalton, anyway?

He dashed around another corner. This corridor was also vacant, and he laid his hand on the wall as he paused to catch his breath. It surprised him, that no one seemed to be in here. Had everyone gone up to the roof? Not that he was complaining, but it seemed odd somehow, and it made him uneasy.

It was also a surprise, and a relief, that he had managed to keep going, even with all of his injuries. But, he supposed, trying to keep from being killed could give one quite an adrenaline rush. Once it wore off, however, he would probably be even more weary and exhausted than he had been before. That was not something to look forward to.

The last thing he was expecting was for the wall to abruptly give way, sending him falling down into nothingness. A startled scream escaped his lips as he landed harshly onto a slippery material, one that spiraled downward and further downward, under the surface of the prison and of the earth. The ride itself was not that bad; it was somewhat like a child's slide. But as he slammed against one metal side, then another, he could feel the bumps and bruises forming, and already-existing bumps and bruises were jarred again. By the time he crashed at the bottom on a soft mattress, he felt extremely banged up.

". . . Ow," he moaned.

For what was only a few seconds, he lay sprawled in the softness, still holding onto his sword. It would be so nice, to just lay there and go to sleep. But of course it was impossible. He had to get out of here, to find Seph and help him. Seph could not be expected to do all the rest alone. Zack would never think of it!

Slowly he pushed himself into a kneeling position. He had fallen into a hollowed-out tunnel, lit by small lights on the rough, stone walls. Stacked to one side, next to an opening leading down another corridor, were at least a dozen crates. All had been opened, and as Zack climbed off the mattress and walked over to them, he could see nothing but straw inside. But what had been in them originally? Carter had mentioned crates being delivered on a train. Had the weapons arrived in these containers?

He looked up at the entrance to the passageway. Where did that lead? It was the wrong time to explore, but he had to find the way out of here---and aside from the near-impossibility of climbing back up the slide, this was the only way. He would just have to be on his guard. There was no telling what he might meet inside.

The tunnel was much more dimly lit than the room he was in, and as he slowly stepped forward to enter, something suddenly shot out at him from the darkness. As quickly as he could, he brought his sword up to meet the opposition. It was a prison guard, and as their weapons clashed, Zack got the upper hand and cut the other down. This was a war now. All of Dismal had been turned into a battlefield, and under those conditions, it was kill or be killed.

Breathing heavily, the SOLDIER lowered his sword and gazed at the body. Blood pooled under and around the corpse, and the weapon had slipped from the limp fingers. The form had been that of an older man, perhaps in his forties. His short, whitish-blond hair was tousled now, his expression a mixture of shock, pain, and something unidentifiable. Hatred? Regret? Sadness? Even, all three? That would not be known now.

Zack sighed, turning to go deeper into what might well be a labyrinth. There would be many more deaths before this was over.

Sephiroth was busy as well, having been dodging a near-constant stream of bullets as well as fighting off the prison guards who still held electropoles. The courtyard was fairly well-lit by the torches that had been set up against the back of the building, and the dancing flames cast mysterious shadows and shapes against the walls, the ground, and the gallows. The various people, as they fought, became demons, chimeras, and other unsightly creatures---thanks to that effect.

Dalton had managed to slink away during the melee. That irritated the SOLDIER, but there was nothing that could be done about it. Somehow he doubted that the other was a coward, especially when things were vastly tipped in his favor. No, he had probably gone to plot something else foul, and it would be learned within time. Hopefully it would be in enough time to stop him.

Zack had vanished too. Sephiroth had lost track of him, but from what he remembered, the brunet had been heading toward the side of the prison, almost as if attempting to draw his attackers inside.

It certainly would be useful, if they could all be contained somewhere until backup would arrive---which might not be for hours yet. If Zack's plan was to try to trap everyone in the prison, while allowing him and Sephiroth an escape route, then Sephiroth was not surprised. Could such a feat be achieved? The same doubts Zack carried were also in Sephiroth's mind. Overall, the strategy was extremely risky, and very likely would not even work in the first place. Zack realized that, of course. And he and Sephiroth also were aware that there were not really other options.

Another gunner sprang at him in midair, firing viciously. Sephiroth raised his sword to meet the assailant head-on, deflecting several shots before impaling the other man through the stomach. The eyes widened in a silent gasp of agony, and the SOLDIER swiftly extracted the blade, letting the body crash to the sand.

He no sooner had done so before someone else dropped down in back of him. The sadistic chuckle was all too familiar, and as he whirled, the Masamune held high, he found himself staring at Rakesh.

"Fight me, Shinra dog," the dark-haired man hissed. His rod had been abandoned. Now he was holding a sword of his own, having drawn it up in front of him as he clasped it. From the sneer that began to grace his features, he was very good with a blade, and was most likely assured of his victory.

Sephiroth's eyes narrowed. That over-confidence would be his downfall.

Their blades crashed, the sound echoing off the nearby wall. Each shoved hard at the other as they attempted to tip the score in their favor, and despite Rakesh's very slender form, he was quite strong. Sephiroth gritted his teeth as they struggled, at last managing to push back the guard. Then he lunged, his hair streaming out behind him. Rakesh met the attack instantly, the swords clanging together again.

As they moved across the courtyard, locked in their dance of combat, Sephiroth focused on deciphering the other's style and his weaknesses. Rakesh attacked very offensively, and also with daring, as if taunting Sephiroth to retaliate. Then, at the last moment, he would lash out with an assault of his own. It was not a strategy to be used lightly or thoughtlessly. Rakesh would have no guarantee that Sephiroth would always take the defensive path.

And he was not going to. He struck out furiously, meeting another of Rakesh's powerful attacks and forcing him back. By now they were right up against the wall of the prison, and Rakesh suddenly smirked. He had been backed into a door, and now he swung his blade back to shatter the glass in the top half. Sephiroth was forced to shield his eyes, and Rakesh did as well, pushing himself inside as he did so. Hearing the door open, Sephiroth opened his eyes and charged forward.

Had the sentry just used the door as a convenient way to continue the battle, or was he hoping to lead Sephiroth into a trap of his own? The silver-haired man narrowed his eyes. He was not going to take any chances. He would have to be ready for any possible trick that his nemesis might pull.

"Your ally put up a good fight," Rakesh sneered as their blades crashed. "All of the inmates came to watch."

Sephiroth glowered at him. "Aren't you afraid that they will eventually turn their rounds on you?" he retorted. Now Rakesh was steadily heading toward the front of the prison, back to the room where the two men had been grappling earlier. And, Sephiroth recalled, the room that Zack had seen in his dream. While he was still not certain what to think about it coming to pass, he did know one fact for certain---his own dream had been fulfilled, even down to the "numbers" holding the guns. That had symbolized the convicts taking part in the battle.

The blue-eyed man laughed. "No, not really," he said.

He leaned in closer. "I and some of the other guards nearly killed him, you know."

Sephiroth regarded him coldly. "He didn't look anywhere near dead, when I saw him last."

As they reached the location in question, Rakesh backed up gracefully against a barrier. In that first room, near the back, there was a staircase leading up to a balcony that overlooked the area. Dalton had not taken them up there, pointing out the poor condition of the wooden steps. Sephiroth had asked him why he did not take the time and expense to repair them, and Dalton had smirked, saying that it was unnecessary and that the platform was merely a convenience for the guards to stand on and observe the prisoners. Zack had then muttered that Dalton's entire house was a "convenience", but only Sephiroth had heard.

Now Sephiroth narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

Rakesh grinned, leaping over the barrier and landing on one of the stairs. "I've been up here many times, and nothing has happened," he announced. "Are you afraid, cur?" The step creaked loudly in protest at the sudden pressure, more than would be normal.

"You should be. It's going to break," Sephiroth said flatly. He stood to the side, then brought his blade against Rakesh's when the other lunged for an attack. If his enemy wanted to get himself killed on the steps instead of by Sephiroth's hand, that was fine with him. That would save Sephiroth some time and trouble. He needed to find Zack.

Rakesh's wild laughter continued to resonate through the room as he swiftly ascended the rest of the stairs and walked to the railing at the edge of the platform. "You should be the one to fear," he said, reaching into his pocket.

Instantly Sephiroth tensed. What was he getting? Another weapon? Some kind of smoke bomb? A grenade, even? He gripped the sword tightly, walking so that he was not directly underneath the spot where Rakesh was standing.

He blinked in astonishment when the other man withdrew a small device that looked almost identical to Dalton's remote control. Was it Dalton's? Or was this something new, something Rakesh owned? Did it even perform the same operation? Judging from the raven-haired man's expression, twisted in sick delight, he had a very definite plot in mind that revolved around this object.

"Are you wondering what this is?" he purred. "It's a little something Dalton and I devised. We know, of course, that Shinra is sending backup for you. And we also know that it won't likely arrive in time to save your lives." His wicked grin broadened. "But what will be left for whatever survivors there are after that battle? To be held in a Shinra prison . . . nothing could be more demeaning. It would be better to have died."

Sephiroth gripped the sword tighter. Rakesh's meaning was clear. What he was holding was a detonation device. "You're going to blow up the prison," he retorted. He did not doubt that this man and Dalton would be mad enough to do it. They were willing to stoop to any level to make certain that Shinra did not have a victory. He should have considered the possibility of something like this happening.

Rakesh chuckled. "We'll all go down, with our enemies," he agreed. "But it doesn't stop there! To make sure we obliterate everyone, bombs have also been placed in the house next door and the servants' quarters. When Shinra arrives, they will find the remainder of this village razed, and their SOLDIERs dead!"

Sephiroth's eyes narrowed darkly. Not even Maryn would be safe from this treachery. If Zack was here, he would probably try to talk to Rakesh, righteously furious at such a scheme. But Sephiroth knew that all talk was pointless. Rakesh would not listen, and it would be wasted breath and energy to try. Right now, the only words would be spoken with his blade. He had to get that detonator.

He lashed out with the Masamune, easily slicing the old wooden barrier in two. Then he began to ascend the stairs carefully, deliberately. Time was of the essense, but there was not any point in being reckless and foolish by running. Just moving at a normal speed was causing the planks to tremble and groan, and several times it felt as though they would simply disintegrate underfoot. Getting down again was likely going to be a problem, but he would worry about that when the time came.

Rakesh's eyes lit up as Sephiroth reached the top of the narrow space. "Everything I just told you is true," he smiled, "but I won't deny that I figured bragging about it would get you to risk your own safety and come up here." He dangled the device in front of him. "It controls every one of the bombs. And if it's destroyed, all of them still automatically go off." With that he placed it in his pocket again, over his heart. "That will make it that much difficult for you."

Sephiroth glared at him. It did not matter what he tried. He would still be defeated. Sephiroth would not allow it to be otherwise. He could be victorious without stabbing Rakesh through the heart.

Now they resumed their combat. It was much more difficult on this space, which was barely big enough for both of them and their swords. Their blades crashed repeatedly, with each man straining to force back the other. Several times, when a sword hit the wall, chips of plaster and paint would rain to the floor---which was not much stronger than the stairs.

"Maybe we'll both plunge through to our deaths," smirked Rakesh as he leaned in close. "And maybe I will land on my stomach and the detonator will activate."

Sephiroth pushed him back with the pressure from the Masamune. Or, he said silently, maybe none of that will happen. He would not allow the other's taunting to bother him. He would take it, using it to become more focused on his goal.

As they fought, Sephiroth wondered about Zack. What had happened to him? Was he alright? And what were the rebels doing? Had they found Zack and surrounded him? Were they making sure all the bombs were in place? Could Zack have found some of the bombs and be attempting to dismantle them?

Rakesh slashed at him. Sephiroth dodged, swinging his blade. It cut through Rakesh's uniform to his arm, and he winced in pain. But he was not stunned for long. He feinted, moving to the left, and Sephiroth did not allow himself to be deceived. He struck again, the Masamune tearing into Rakesh's side.

The blue-eyed man blinked, following Sephiroth's gaze to the wound. Then, as the blade began to be withdrawn, he slowly looked up at his enemy. "Good!" he cackled. "Good! It's been a while since any opponent has succeeded in wounding me this much." He smirked sickeningly. "But . . ."

He lunged, causing the sword to plunge through his side again. "It's not good enough!"

It happened in a split-second, with Sephiroth unable to do anything. Rakesh's sword pierced his flesh, entering at the left side of his collarbone. The silver-haired man's eyes widened in anguish. The pain was excruciating. He could feel the sword scraping the bone as it went directly beneath it. Then Rakesh started to push it in further, backing Sephiroth up against the wall. Was he going to try to drive the blade all the way through? Had he wanted to stab him through the heart, but miscalucated? Or had this been on purpose, and he wanted to torture Sephiroth before killing him?

He clenched his teeth, his hands shaking as he held onto the hilt of the Masamune. How would he even raise his arm to be able to attack again? Maybe that was what Rakesh had wanted, to render Sephiroth's dominant arm useless, to make him feel acute helplessness, before killing him. He could not tell if Rakesh had severed that part of his collarbone. He did not think so, but there was so much burning fire in the wound that it could definitely be possible.

Now Rakesh was close enough that Sephiroth could feel his breath against his face. "Now," he hissed, "you die, and then everyone dies." He held onto his own blade, as if he was going to suddenly force it downward to the other's heart. "This is such a fitting end for you. SOLDIERs find it a great honor to die in battle, don't they?" He sneered. "I'm sure they'll give you a splendid memorial service."

Sephiroth glowered back at him, tensing as the blade went in another inch. This was pathetic. He would not stand here and let this madman win. Never!

He kicked out viciously, striking Rakesh in the abdomen. Not having expected it, the other gasped, stumbling back and letting go of his weapon. Immediately Sephiroth lunged, impaling him in that same spot while at the same time reaching for his pocket.

Again they were next to each other. Rakesh shuddered, feeling the blood coming to his throat. With both hands, he shakily reached up to snatch Sephiroth's wrist, to tear it away from his pocket. But, as he leaned further against the railing, it began to crack from the weight. He knew he was going to die.

He looked up hatefully at Sephiroth. To be defeated by a SOLDIER, and especially one that still had Rakesh's blade piercing him---what greater disgrace could there be for one who abhorred SOLDIER wholeheartedly? He deserved death, he decided. He pushed his body further against the railing, willing it to tear asunder.

And then, it did. For one long second he hung there, Sephiroth still clutching his pocket and being the only thing between him and the fatal fall. "Shinra dog," he hissed.

Time moved again. The pocket ripped free, along with the device, and Rakesh plunged backwards to the bottom. The sickening thump and snap told Sephiroth that the guard was dead.

Sephiroth himself had stumbled back when the railing had broke, and now he breathed heavily as he gripped the detonator in one hand and the Masamune in the other. It had been painful, to attack with the sword despite his own injuries, but at least, since he had stabbed Rakesh in the stomach, he had not had to raise that arm. That would have made it worse for him.

Now he coughed, the blood rising in his own throat. He was beginning to feel light-headed, but his wounds would have to wait another moment. Shakily he looked down at the device, which was making a low humming sound. There were two visible controls on it---a switch marked "On/Off", and a red button, obviously what activated the bombs. He moved the switch to the Off position, and the humming ceased. In a minute, it was entirely cool to the touch. Then he slipped it into his own pocket. Hopefully, that would be enough to stop the bombs.

Taking hold of Rakesh's blade, he began to ease it out of his flesh. His hands were trembling, and his vision blurred, but he narrowed his eyes as he forced himself to focus. Every inch the sword moved was a new adventure in pain. His eyes widened, and his teeth clenched, as he finally drew it out the rest of the way. Then he stabbed it downward, into the platform.

He had to get down from here now. . . . He had to get down and find Zack, to see what had happened and to assist in the remainder of the battle.

Dizziness swept over him more insistently and he staggered forward, gasping as he reached up to clutch the deep wound. He did not think the blade had gone all the way through, but at this point, he was not in any condition to figure it out.

He had to force himself to ignore the pain. He was a SOLDIER; he could endure pain better than many could. With great effort he straightened up, sheathing his sword. Then he started to make his way to the staircase. It still looked as steep and frail as before, but maybe it would hold him again. He would have to try. . . .

Slowly he placed his bloodied right hand on the railing and stepped down to the first stair. It shrieked, but held fast. Encouraged, he moved to the next one.

On the third step, dizziness washed over him again, and he doubled over as the cough returned, more persistantly. The stair wailed, as if telling him to get going already. But he could not go yet. Everything was swimming out of focus and the pain was nearly overwhelming. He narrowed his eyes. It would be a lot worse if he did not press forward.

The next step was quieter, and the next, louder. The sound rang in his ears, and a hand flew to his head as the headache he had discovered grew worse. He had to keep going . . . he had to. . . . He could not give in. . . .

He could not remember which step it was that finally gave way. All he recollected was gasping in shock and then agony as he tumbled to the bottom. The trip seemed to last for hours, though it was only several seconds. He crashed hard on his stomach, sprawled half on the floor and the pieces of the barrier, and half on the two bottom stairs, which were now splattered red with his blood.

For a moment he lay, stiff and frozen, his eyes wide as he gripped as his sword, the stairs, anything he could as he tried to bear the immense, ripping pain throughout his left shoulder. It almost felt as if it had been torn asunder. But when he looked over at it, even through his weakening vision, he saw that it was still attached. Probably the damage was not as bad as it seemed to be. . . . Or it could always be worse. He had certainly lost a lot of blood.

His limbs slackened. It helped if he accepted the agony instead of resisting it. It was a lesson he had taught to the other SOLDIERs. Now it was time that he would have to teach himself, he thought wryly.

His eyes sank closed, but he remained conscious.

It seemed ages later when Zack at last found the end of the tunnel. There was a hole in the ceiling, with a ladder underneath it, and from the light that was shining through, it looked like a well-furnished room above. Was he back at Dalton's home? He frowned deeply. This would require caution, in case there were villagers above. Maybe they were staking out this spot, just waiting for him to attempt exiting.

Carefully he gripped either side of the ladder, placing his foot on the bottom rung. All seemed sturdy and well, and he swiftly yet softly made his way up. Vaguely in the distance, it sounded as though he could hear more shots being fired, as well as screams. What was going on? Was Seph still out there, battling the townsfolk? Or . . . could it be that the reinforcements had arrived?

He peered out of the opening, still moving with wariness. The room was unfamiliar. It was brightly lit, and on the side he was facing, there were rows of shelves and books, as in a library. There was also a world globe next to a wine colored, plush chair, and a long end table to the side of that.

"So nice of you to join us, Mr. Fair."

That was Dalton's voice! Immediately the brunet turned in the direction of it. The warden was standing several feet away, tightly holding Maryn around the neck as he lifted her off the floor. In his other hand, he clutched what looked like the remote control. The child was trembling, obviously frightened, but her eyes brightened when she saw who was coming out of the trapdoor.

"Zack!" she exclaimed, tugging at Dalton's thick arm as she tried to pull it away. "You're okay!"

Zack tried to give her a smile, but the outrage over Dalton's actions was boiling in his soul. There was nothing this man would shy away from doing! "What are you doing?" he demanded. "Put her down!" He stepped onto the solid floor and stood up straight, reaching for his sword.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Dalton sneered, indicating the remote control. "Though, actually, I guess it doesn't matter what you do. We'll all die now."

His tone was enough to make Zack pause. That device . . . was it something different than what he used to open the drawbridge? It was the same shape, size, and color, but the look in the other's eyes said that this was not a bluff, that this was something of which to be concerned. When he spoke again, his tone became even more frenzied.

"Listen!" he cried. "Your precious help is out there, felling the people of Dismal. They think they're going to win. But I'll have the last laugh. Both Rakesh and I have one of these, so that if by some chance one of us falls, the other can carry out our plan! With these little containers, we hold life and death in our hands!" He held it out further, as if showing it off to his nemesis. "I will make all the bombs in Dismal go off! All I have to do is to press this button." He indicated a raised-up place on the box that was glowing red.

Zack could only stare. What?! They were going to blow up Dismal?! Even though it had been obvious that they were drunken with hatred, he had not imagined that they would take it this far! And where was Rakesh? Did Seph know what was going to happen? He had to find a way to stop this!

"For once, you can't think of anything to say." Dalton smirked. "Oh, and you can't destroy this, either. Cutting it with your sword, stomping on it, or some other such thing will still make everything activate." As long as it was turned on, anyway. But Zack did not need to know that part of it. Let him think that there was no hope! He would never get it away from Dalton.

Maryn struggled against him, panicked as she vainly kicked her legs against his knees. "You're an awful man!" she screamed. Even though she did not understand everything, she knew that a bomb was a bad thing, something that would cause a lot of trouble. And if she did not know, it was all written in Zack's expression.

Finally he found his voice. "You can't do this!" he burst out. What was he going to do? He had to get Maryn away from him, and somehow he had to get that device too, without damaging it. Would it be possible? Any sudden movement could cause Dalton to hit the button.

"Of course I can!" Dalton laughed. "But the best part is that I'll be sending you and all of these other worthless dogs out of this world!"

Maryn glowered. "No, you won't!" she yelled, and immediately bit into his arm. Dalton howled in pain, his grip loosening, and the child wiggled free.

Though amused, Zack did not have time to show it. He lunged, tackling Dalton to the floor as he grabbed for the device. The warden was holding tight to it, despite all of the attacks to his person that should have weakened his grasp. He growled, trying to shove Zack away from him. But maybe Zack's interference would be a good thing, he smirked. With so many hands struggling for the controller, it was bound to go off. He kneed Zack viciously in the stomach, forcing him back. Then he began to scramble to his feet.

Instantly Zack was after him again, delivering a violent punch that sent him flying back against the wall. Before he could recover, the SOLDIER was wrapping both of his arms around Dalton's left arm. He twisted it harshly, squeezing a pressure point with one hand. The brown-haired man yelped in agony.

"My arm! My arm's gone numb!" he wailed.

Zack shoved the limp appendage aside, watching as the device fell harmlessly to the thick rug. "Not long enough," he said, and hurriedly grabbed it up. It did not seem too complicated, he decided as he studied the small panel. It was currently turned on. He slid the switch to the Off position. In his hand, he could feel it almost instantly cool down. His shoulders slumped in relief.

Dalton looked at him hatefully. The fool! He was so arrogant and self-confident, just as all of Shinra's attack dogs were. All that would have to be done would be to turn it on again. And there was always Rakesh's detonator as well. They would still die, one way or another. Slowly he started to ease himself up. He would take Zack by surprise, kill him, and take back the device.

Zack saw him out of the corner of his eye. Immediately he whirled, again punching him in the face and putting as much force into it as he could muster. Dalton yelped, crashing back into the shelves and striking his head on one of them. He sank to the floor, stunned senseless.

"Nighty-night," Zack commented, smirking again.

Then Maryn was suddenly rushing at him, hugging him around the neck as the tears began to spill from her eyes. He was safe! She had been so worried about him, but she had tried to believe that he would get free, that his friend would help him. She had tried to believe that she would see him once more, alive---and now, here he was! And she knew that they had stopped something horrible from happening. That made her happy too.

Zack gently put his arms around her, allowing her this moment. He was relieved that she was alright, that Dalton's plan had failed. But there was still Rakesh. And Seph. . . . He had to find Seph. He swallowed hard. It seemed cruel, to pull away from Maryn, but all of them could still be in danger. He would have to tie up Dalton before he left, too. And he needed to find a secure place for Maryn to stay, if such a place existed.

"Sir?"

He looked up abruptly, seeing a bewildered maid and an unfamiliar SOLDIER in the doorway. He broke into a grin.

"Boy, are you a sight for sore eyes," he declared. Slowly he got to his feet, holding Maryn in his arms. "This guy, Dalton, he tried to blow up everything." He walked over to the shocked SOLDIER, handing him the device and explaining how it worked. The other warrior listened, nodding now and then as he stared at the detonator. The maid looked horrified.

"What's the situation outside?" Zack asked then, shifting the child. He wanted badly to ask if anyone had seen Seph. Surely these SOLDIERs would know what he looked like, even though they had likely never before met him in person. Sephiroth had practically become the mascot of the SOLDIER organization.

"A lot of people dead, on both sides," sighed the other, "and still more wounded." He walked past Zack and over to Dalton, then knelt down and pushed the unconscious man onto his stomach. Dragging his arms behind him, the warrior handcuffed them together. This was the last disaster Dalton would create.

Zack swallowed. "What about Seph . . . Sephiroth?" he corrected himself hastily.

The newcomer shook his head. "No one's seen him, to my knowledge."

Maryn bit her lip, pulling back to look at the brunet. "You have to go again, don't you?" she said quietly.

Zack nodded. "Yeah," he said. "I've gotta find Seph. But I'll be back. I promise." He smiled. "And you'll be okay, won't you?"

She nodded, trying to smile as well. She understood, of course. Not only did Zack need to find his friend, but he needed to help fight, if there was more fighting to be done. She hugged him again, blinking back the tears. "You've gotta come back," she whispered. Her parents never had, that last night they had left for work. She did not want anyone else she cared about to never return.

Gently Zack set her on the floor, by the maid. "Hey, I never break a promise," he assured her as he hurried out.

Once he arrived outside, and the cold night air slapped him in the face, he realized that he was in front of the servants' quarters, and not the manor. It should not surprise him that much, he decided. The underground tunnel system did amaze him, and he wished that they had been discovered under better circumstances. He would have liked to explore them properly. Right now, there were more important things to worry about. He ran forward, back towards the prison.

All along the way he passed villagers and SOLDIERs laying on the ground, their blood staining the sands a deep red. Every now and then, he would hear the sounds of continuing battles in the near distance, but those would quickly end. Once, an enemy guard suddenly leaped into Zack's path, his gun bared and ready to fire. The brunet had been forced to quickly dispose of him before resuming his desperate search.

The drawbridge was still down at the prison, and as he went over it, he found that the courtyard was strewn with the most bodies. He shuddered, stepping over them as he made his way up the steps and to the door. If they were inside the building, then this scene would look just like his dream.

He pushed on the door, trying to get it open---but it would not budge. It was jammed somehow, and he narrowed his eyes further. He had to get in there! He would get in there! He threw his body against it, hearing it creak. He tried a second time. It was weakening.

Eventually, on the fourth try, it popped open and he ran inside. It was the room he remembered, the one that had been haunting him. And he swallowed hard as he saw Rakesh's body sprawled on the floor, the neck bent at a strange angle. Obviously he was dead, laying motionless in a pool of his own blood. But what had happened to his device? Obviously it had not gone off, but had it fallen into friendly hands?

Zack walked a bit further, his steps echoing in the silent room as if it was a tomb. There was another body in here, laying facedown on the stairs. Blood was pooling underneath him, blood that could be coming from his heart. No. . . . He froze, his breath catching in his throat. No, no. . . . Dizziness rushed over him, but he pushed back the feeling of being light-headed as he ran forward. No, his dream could not come true! It could not! The bodies had been outside, instead of in here, so maybe . . . maybe Seph's fate would be different. It had to be different!

The brunet bent down beside the silver-haired man, his hands trembling as he reached out for his limp body. "Seph?" he cried, his voice cracking. "Seph . . . you've gotta be okay. . . ." Carefully he turned the other to face him, then gently lifted him off the stairs. He collapsed to his knees, cradling the other's upper body in his arms. He looked so feeble, so unlike the strong warrior Zack had known. . . .

His bangs had been pressed against his face, but when Zack moved him, they fluttered back over his ears. A bit of blood trickled from a cut on his forehead, the drops having made their way over one of his eyelids. Another thin stream of crimson was at the side of his mouth, adding to his battered appearance.

The green eyes had been closed. Now they weakly opened, but only halfway, as if he did not even have the strength to pry them open completely. He smirked up at Zack. "You took your time," he mumbled, echoing the raven-haired man's words from earlier.

Zack grinned, but it was forced. Even when the other's eyes were only partially visible, their glassiness was obvious. "It couldn't be helped," he answered.

Now he could see that Seph's heart had not been pierced, but the wound along and under his collarbone was obviously serious. It was bleeding profusely, and had painted red not only Seph's skin, clothes, and hair, but the stairs and floor. He shook his head. "Seph . . . you're in bad shape," he breathed. It was wrong to see him like this, so pale and ill, and Zack hated that he had not been able to find him sooner. "How long have you been like this?" he demanded.

Sephiroth grunted. "I don't know," he muttered. "Rakesh . . . he was going to blow us all up. . . ."

Zack nodded shakily. "So was Dalton. But we're still here. Right, Seph?" He felt a chill go up his spine. His friend was going slack in his arms. No . . . no! He would not let this happen! He would not let Seph die! Seph could not die. . . .

The younger man held on tighter. Did he think he could keep the life within the other if he did not let go? It was foolish, and unrealistic, but he was so desperate that he did not care.

"If I just had a Restore materia," he choked out, "or a potion, or something!" Even if he had brought that kind of materia, or a healing potion, it would not matter. All that he had been carrying had been confiscated by the prison guards, and they had not returned any of it to him for his fight against Rakesh.

"It wouldn't matter. . . ." Sephiroth let his head rest on Zack's shoulder. Everything was fading now. His vision was practically gone, and Zack sounded so far away. . . . Even the sensation of being held, frantically clutched, was barely there. He felt numb. He wanted to stay, and yet . . . and yet he could not seem to manage it. . . . Not at all. . . . He had been trying so long, but in the end, the darkness was still calling. It was still wrapping its fingers around him, around his heart, around his lungs. . . .

Zack's eyes widened. Seph had gone so still, so quiet, so . . . no! No! He looked down at the other. Seph looked like he was asleep. He looked like any minute he would open his eyes again. But he did not. And Zack could no longer feel the other's breath against his neck. . . .

No . . . no . . . not this. . . .

"Seph!" he screamed. "Hey! Speak to me!" He only heard deathly silence, his voice reverberating endlessly off the walls. "Seph!"

Gently he brought the lifeless form to lay on the floor, then bent down to listen. There had to still be something. . . . There had to be! But there was no breath. His chest was not rising and falling. There was no heartbeat, no pulse. His body had just given out, after going such a long period without receiving the needed treatment.

Zack shut his eyes tightly, the mist gathering within them. "No," he whispered. "Seph . . . you can't be. . . ." He was too distraught to realize that he was speaking the very words from his nightmare.

Desperately he leaned over the other again, placing his mouth against Seph's. Several times he struggled to force the breath of life into the other's lungs. Seph had to still be there . . . he had to be able to be saved . . . ! But each time, when Zack pulled away, there was no response. Seph's skin was still sickly pale, his lips bluish. He was dead.

Zack stared at him, shaking. The lump in his throat was still there, having expanded. He could not move, he could not think, he could not fully comprehend this. And yet, the knowledge was there, cold and hard, against his heart.

"You saved me, Seph," he choked out. "Why . . . why couldn't I save you?"

Seph would not have wanted to see or hear Zack suffering, feeling so helpless. He would not have wanted Zack to cry. But Zack could not stop himself. He had loved Seph as a brother, had looked up to him, joked with him, fought alongside him. And now he was gone.