Disclaimer: I don't own FF7. If I did, I wouldn't have to save up for that Sephiroth figurine. Allen Render appears © Rokuryu Studios, 2006.

Author's Note: This was inspired by a rant on the LJ community Fanficrants. One person ranted on how many "girl from our world enters FF7 universe and becomes instant friends with the cast" fics there were. I started pondering on the idea: a girl from our reality entering the FF7 universe (no, not by 'magic'. You'll see. Not spoiling anything.) and having no knowledge about magic or weapons and DOES NOT get involved with the FF7 cast and/or plot. Think of it as (thank you, Saki) original fiction but not. Here's my first shot at it. Wish me luck.

Done to Death

This was a city where everything and nothing happened all at once. People bustled along the streets, dodging cars and each other to get to where they had to be. Wordlessly, they passed by those who meant nothing to them, who had no significance to the rest of society. Young and old, the homeless and the poor who had managed to wander out of the squalid slums that surrounded Midgar populated many a dark alley. From one of these alleyways came a cough no one heard for it was drowned out by the sounds of civilization, the hum of cars, machinery and people. These were the first stirrings of one such Allen Render upon the city of bright lights beneath ShinRa.

She groaned as she got up. It took her awhile to regain her composure as she lay there on the cold hard concrete and fought to open her eyes despite the throbbing headache. Head in her hand, she got up and massaged her temples. Nothing was broken, that was certain. The sharp smell of sewage stung her nose, causing her to wince. Stilling a trembling hand against the stone wall, she struggled to get up, limping her way out of the alley.

The bright neon lights of the city stung her eyes as she came out from the darkness. People passed her in the not-so-crowded streets, no one taking notice of her. The few who did wrinkled their noses, perhaps dismissing her as a drunk who had stumbled out of a nearby bar.

On she limped for a few more paces, the rubber soles of her sneakers feeling worn beneath her heels. The incessant demanding headache never left her, giving Allen the look of a victim of a lousy hangover that resulted from a long night of drinking. There was no one around who looked familiar, nothing that looked familiar at first glance that could tell her where she was.

A hand slipped into her pocket, searching for her cellphone. If she didn't know where she was then, she could call home. Her parents would help her figure out where she was and probably pick her up if she was lucky. Her other pocket held what she recognized as a few bills and loose change, probably enough to get her a cab home. If she could find one to begin with.

A barely audible "Shit!" came to Allen's lips when she realized her cellphone was missing. She frowned, trying to calm herself and knowing full well that it wouldn't do any good to go into hysterics knowing how bad the situation was. All she could remember was crossing the street, then a sharp pain. Perhaps, as was her ill luck, some thugs found her and took her phone after dragging her off to some part of town where they knew she would get lost. "Ok…" she murmured to herself, hooking her thumbs in her pockets. "New plan." She sighed and wandered on down the street, in search of someone who didn't think she was a drunk or a homeless bum and ask where she was. She would wing it from there.

Of course, this proved much harder than she imagined.

Citizens she approached seemed to have their own excuse not to want to talk to her. Men in suits brushed past her with a "Not now, kid, I'm busy" while mothers herded their children away hurriedly, as if Allen carried some sort of deadly disease. She frowned, a hand on her hips as she stood by a curb, looking out at the streets before her.

"So much for hospitality."

Her eyes glanced around once more. As she pulled herself from the wall she leaned against, a large group of men filed past, pushing her aside and right into the path of a young women selling flowers in the street.

Allen backed away from the woman, checking to see if she was alright. She let out a sigh of relief, seeing that she was, albeit a little flustered from the sudden impact. "Sorry," she sighed. "Buncha guys shoved me right into you." When the flower vendor turned her head up, Allen's eyes widened at the sight.

She watched Allen with the most accommodating of smiles, brown hair tied back with a ribbon and framing her face just so. "It's quite alright." She replied, smoothing down the folds of her pink skirt. For the shortest moment, Allan was caught between shock and amazement as her companion looked familiar. She didn't dare jump to any conclusions, choosing not to say anything to shock the girl. Breathing in, she tried her best to regain her composure. She already had an idea of where she was but she had to confirm it for herself.

"Hey… Where are we?" she asked.

"Oh, we're-- " the flower vendor began but her words were cut short by an explosion that came from the northern part of town. The shock of the explosion knocked Allen to her feet and away from the other female who she soon lost sight of because of the crowd that started to form between them.

Allen backed into a wall as a battalion of soldiers clad in blue uniforms surrounded the center square. Rifles cocked and aimed as a blonde male charged in from the direction of the explosion. His brows furrowed as he surveyed the solid wall of soldiers that formed before him. Silently, he drew out a large blade and stepped into a defensive stance to protect himself from the oncoming rain of bullets. He stood his ground, waiting until the soldiers stuck before returning the blow, pushing them back and doing the same for the rest of the battalion. His eyes scanned the human wall, seeking out a hole in that wall of defense. He focused on one spot amongst the ranks, one he could plow through to get away. Without warning, he pushed himself out of the center of the battalion, slashing wildly with his blade in order to clear the path. Left and right, soldiers ducked to avoid decapitation, some of the more cowardly ones falling face first into the asphalt road to save their necks.

Opposition out of the way, the blonde took one last glance at the felled soldiers, leaped onto a passing train and was out of sight in a heartbeat. Sensing the commotion was over, Allen pulled herself away from the wall. She seemed stunned, her mouth agape at the realization of what she just saw. "Cloud Strife…?" she wondered, the words falling like a breath that had been held in too long. "No shit…"

Hurriedly, she closed her eyes and shook her head. This was impossible. She couldn't be in a video game. This wasn't right. There was no way she could have been transported into this make believe world. She hadn't just nearly flattened Aerith Gainsborough. That was not Cloud Strife hacking his way to freedom from the explosion of the Reactor that Avalanche had planned. Her eyes turned up. No. No way. That was not the sign of ShinRa that was plastered on the wall right above her head.

This was too much.

She had to find a way back.

She had to get home.

She had… to eat.

A soft groan of complaint came from her stomach as she sank back against the wall. The last time she had something to eat was at breakfast but when was breakfast? Her world and her time seemed so far away now. With a sigh, she turned her eyes the way Cloud had gone. She could trail Avalanche back to their headquarters. She knew she could get food there but… she didn't have the skills to be a mercenary.

She didn't know anything about fighting, or magic.

All she wanted to do was go home.

Again, another growl from her stomach. She needed to eat. Her hand slipped into her pocket and pulled out what little money she had. She doubted that they accepted this kind of money in Midgar. Her only choice was to make money. But how did one make money in this town?

Fighting monsters was out of the question.

Her head made a small 'thunk' against the wall as she rested it there in frustration. Alright. New plan. Find money, eat and figure out a way home. She pulled her head away from the wall and glanced around. She brightened up, seeing a "Help Wanted" sign in a nearby shop window.

Now there was something that had nothing to do with getting hurt.

-END OF CHAPTER ONE-

Well? Whadaya think so far?
Liked it? Hated it? Think Allen's a sue?
Let me know.
Constructive criticism only. Flames lacking grammar will be laughed at and fed to Ifrit.