Restart Ch2: Meteor
The man waded through the sea of people that had evacuated to the Midgar slums. For the first time in quite a while, he thought of his mother back in Mideel and wondered if she'd taken shelter yet. He wished that he'd had called her back last week to tell her that he loved her. He also thought of his exgirlfriend and wanted to apologize for, well, for everything. It's funny what a world crisis could do to a person. Until this point, all he'd ever done was sell items at outrageous prices down here in the slums. It was these same items he was now handing out to the evacuees. Maybe it was a good thing he'd bought so many tranquilizers with the last shipment. Everyone down here was calling him a hero, bringing some measure of peace to the sector. It made him think of that flower girl. She was always trying to bring "some measure of peace" to Midgar. Three MPs sat around a radio, their helmets discarded and forgotten.
"Everyone, evacuate to beneath the plate," the voice said through the small speaker. "Just get your loved ones together and go. The most important thing right now is to live. Houses can be rebuilt; Midgar can be rebuilt. Families can't..."
"Who's this guy?" the man asked as he passed out the medicine to the MPs.
"Reeve. Used to be Urban Development, but he's now taking on as President." The soldier shook his head. "I hear that he was the only exec to protest the Sector Seven Plate drop."
"Sounds like he's a good man," the pharmacist commented.
Another MP nodded. "He is. Could you imagine if he'd been president this whole time?" He closed his eyes. "Yeah, it'd be a whole different world. But then again, that hunk of space junk would still be falling, wouldn't it?"
"…There are people I am in contact with trying their best to stop Meteor with the ultimate Holy magic. I cannot guarantee success, however, and your best bet will still be to take shelter beneath the plate…"
"Well, you take care of yourselves, alright?" The man waved and left the soldiers to their radio. Maybe the world would have been a different place if this Reeve had been president, a better place. Maybe it still might be if these "contacts" succeeded, but what was the chance of that?
A deep rumble filled the slums and every head turned skyward. The colossal steel plate vibrated within its bonds, cracked and fell upward into the blazing copper meteor. Midgar wouldn't die without a fight; long cyclones of flame battled between the titans, but the rock prevailed. The pharmacist watched with a silent, drug induced peace as the flaming sky etched itself into his heart: one final memory for the Planet. But if the Planet died, where would its soul go? No one heard their prayers.
In a final blaze of light, Midgar relinquished its sovereignty of the Planet to Meteor. Rock and dust spewed from the impact and hurtled into the atmosphere. The Planet's crust shattered like a pane of glass, fissures rippling out to the ends of the world. A deafening roar filled the ears of people as far out as North Corel as Lifestream rushed from the wounds. The earthquakes could be felt the world over.
The people of Wutai glanced into torn paper windows at the proud samurai refusing to abandon their nation for a second time. They merely sat and waited for this new threat from far off Midgar to destroy them. One by one, the ones leaving said a prayer to their gods for safety and for their nation to once again grow from the people. The city was merely a husk of its former glory with its toppled pagoda and the Da Chao cracked. Only the mountains offered shelter to the evacuees, so to the mountains they went. Earthquakes continued to plague the exodus, fine cracks turning to huge crevices that swallowed families whole. One terrified call reached the ears of the refugees and all eyes turned to the ocean. As though some great creature, an angry god perhaps, lowered his head to the water; the seas retreated from the coastline. Miles and miles of now dry seabed became a graveyard with the writhing bodies of marine life. The collective mind turned their focus higher to the wall of water now filtering the sunlight.
The elderly samurai turned from the long dead war and watched stoically as the looming tsunami began to trickle down upon their houses like a cleansing rain. Lord Godo closed the window and focused on the bedroom in which he stood. The scattered shuriken and piles of materia glimmered like gems in the watery light. With a sigh, he sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up the stuffed moogle, remembering when he gave it to his daughter. It was long ago, before the war. Pride and sorrow were equal in his heart as the water came toppling down.
The actors of Nibelheim stepped from their stages and off their doorsteps to become only people once more as they listened to the rumbling and crashing of the mountains. The fine web of cracks had already begun to seep Lifestream like a bleeding wound that slowly grew. They stepped carefully around the ooze, peering at the great mountain. Nibel smoked where the reactor had exploded earlier, a black smudge to add to the dark cloud obscuring the sun and turning day into deepest night. Only the Lifestream light remained. The people looked at each other, startled by the sickly appearance on familiar faces.
The ground rumbled again, followed closely by the cracking and tumbling of the spires along the volcanic range. The odd sound that called the colony from their houses passed, anxiety and curiosity passed as the reactor released its pressure. Behind them, in the square, a child giggled: a child in a village without children. Unseen people murmured in the darkness, unintelligible whispers breathed in their ears. The actors all glanced around, disquieted by the haunting sounds. A woman, blonde hair unruly in an unfelt wind, glanced through the people with ice blue eyes as though searching for someone.
The ghostly strangers moved about silently in a haze of green light with a familiarity as though they lived here, two children chasing each other through the street. It was peaceful to watch them move about their daily life, and the actors smiled as though they could accept this haunting. Suddenly, the phantoms all snapped their attention to the front gates as though strangers had walked up. An adult, surely the children's mother, ushered them toward one of the houses and they all faded into the green twilight.
The actors exchanged glances, puzzled by the serene haunting. In this village, rumored to be the center of atrocities and sins against God, somehow the peaceful ghosts were definitely unexpected and so much more of a blessing when compared to the things happening to other places on the Planet.
The phantoms returned from their houses, a different day than the previous- a moving journal. They all collected around the entrance to the mountain's path, wrapped up in an argument between the mayor and an absent party. The mayor turned with a huff, upset with the results; the shopkeeper scurried forward, moving his camera about in askance with another invisible person. He moved backward, took careful aim, and snapped the picture. His thanks was rushed and his bow hurried, then he returned to his place along the line of villagers. Their phantom eyes followed the invisible party plus one ghostly MP as they began their long trek up to the mountain's peak and the reactor.
Only the clocks ticked the time away, the sun hidden behind a black cloak of dust. Once again, another day turned for the phantoms as they emerged from their houses to watch in apprehensive fear at an imagined figure standing, stalking down from the mansion. A tense moment stretched through the actors collected in the square and amongst the ghosts. An explosion from Mount Nibel shattered the stillness, sending Mako in a fount high into the air and spilling down the slopes like lava. The bright chartreuse illumined the screaming spirits; phantom flames bursting from their bodies and from the buildings. The blonde woman called out a soundless name, finally catching one of the actor's eyes. She clawed at him, at his blue eyes, demanding something that he could not understand. Those screams filled the air, combined agony and frustration, as she dragged the man to the ground and deep into the crevice below. His cries blended with the cacophony as the dying Planet tore his spirit from his body. Those remaining turned their eyes back to the now threatening spirits.
The children's screams pierced the unnatural night as their flesh burned away in the cold flames. Skeletal fingers locked around the actors' ankles as the spirits grasped desperately for salvation, but instead dragged them further into hell. One by one, the spirits gave in to their injuries and fell to the ground. At first, the actors of Nibelheim turned to abandon the village, but hesitated as the ghosts didn't fade. This hesitation sealed their fate; the truth of Nibelheim revealed itself as the deepest pits of hell. The phantoms, now disturbingly scarred beyond humanity, all spasmed in unison and began their sickening cries. Bodies once dead picked themselves up from the ground like abandoned puppets now remembered and turned hollow eyes to the living. Blood oozed from the children's charred and cracked flesh; their blind eyes staring into the depths of a hell no child should ever know. The blonde woman wept black tears from empty sockets, her eyes long burned away, and desperately cried out that silent name.
Numerical tattoos blazed liquid black on arms, shoulders, even faces; all willpower faded as heavy black cloaks enveloped them, hiding them from the world. They stood as lifeless puppets until, as a unit, strings pulled, they turned malevolently towards the horrified actors. A single name rose from the phantom mutterings, a chill in the air each time it cracked out: "Sephiroth", they cried. "Great Sephiroth." Disfigured hands reached out from within the black robes, emaciated and decomposing in death, and clawed at the remaining actors. Slowly, they were dragged screaming to the ground and into the fissures bleeding Lifestream. Their cries pierced death white through the darkness, echoing to nothing in the mountains. Silence fell like a black shroud upon the actors' frozen screams and the clawed hands reaching out of the Lifestream.
And a child's merry laugh chimed through the square.
The Highwind flashed its red and green lights over the lonely and shattered world. No eyes turned to them, no one searched for hope from the heavens after hell itself plunged from the rafters. The weight of their own sorrow bowed their heads in supplication. Lifestream blinded them with its mako bright light a pale imitation of the sun, a viridian twilight. This light clawed for the sky, twinkling on the airship's aluminum sides.
Within, the haggard remnants of Avalanche hunched over the conference table and tried not to remember triumphant days that had only just passed. No one looked toward the head of the table where Cloud would stand haloed by the antiqued maps. No one could bear that empty sight or those maps staring down with accusing eyes. No one spoke into the heavy silence blanketing the room and choking their voices. Reeve stood off to the side, his usually immaculate suit was rumpled and his tie hung loose from his shoulders. Every so often he'd look up from his study of the carpets to glance at his compatriots. He couldn't hold their gaze for long, however, so returned to his scrutiny. Red wandered up to the forlorn executive and nosed his hand. Reeve glanced over into the beast's sad smiling eye and turned back to the floor; he idly scratched behind the feline's ear. Cid sat in a heap against the wall, resting his elbows on knees pulled close. He buried his head in his hands, pulling windblown strands of blonde hair from beneath his pilot's goggles. His flight jacket had been thrown next to an overflowing ashtray where an empty and crushed cigarette box had joined shortly thereafter. Tifa clung weakly to Vincent, unmindful of the dried tear tracks streaking down her still dusty face. Had it not been for the gunman's supportive arm around her shoulders, she would have collapsed into a wrung out and crumpled pile. He watched her with somber eyes, understanding but still distant. He turned those eyes to Reeve, their flat stare extinguishing any remaining glimmer of hope. The ex-Turk was no stranger to pure despair: a never-ending black night of regret and guilt devouring sanity, snuffing it like a small candle.
The executive took a breath, almost choking on the thick miasma. "Midgar has been destroyed." His voice seemed to echo through the small room, but now that he'd started he couldn't take the words back. "The entire population took shelter beneath the plate, but that turned to their downfall." Reeve swallowed the knot in his throat. "I gave the order," he breathed, the words barely audible. "I killed them all."
Cid raised his head from his hands and sighed to relieve some of the stress – steam releasing from an overheating machine. "What about the other cities?"
"Junon is the only thing left on the coast," Reeve ran his fingers through his hair, "including Wutai and Bone Village."
Red spoke up from his place beside the executive. "And the Forgotten City, right?"
Reeve nodded. "And the Temple of the Ancients, or rather what's left."
"Sounds like nothin's left," Cid commented. He leaned back against the wall and rubbed his forehead. "What's still here?"
"Fort Condor and the Gold Saucer have opened as shelters for the survivors. SOLDIERs have gathered in Mideel."
"What happened to Cosmo Canyon?" Red asked, afraid to hear the answer.
"The city stands, but the canyons are flooded." Reeve's words held little reassurance to the beast, but his hand remained supportive on Red's neck.
Vincent watched Tifa for a moment, but she remained silent. "And Nibelheim?" he asked.
"Haunted. No one's left alive."
"Kalm Town and Marlene?"
Reeve's face paled at the mention of Barret's daughter. He shook his head. "Same. Besides Midgar, it was the closest town to Ground Zero."
"But what about Rocket Town?" the captain asked.
"I'm sorry, Cid. It's abandoned. Everyone there has either left for the refugee camps or died."
"God damn it," the pilot cursed as he shoved his last broken cigarette into his mouth.
Red leaned close to Reeve's leg and rested his head against the wrinkled navy fabric. After a moment, he gathered the courage to ask the question hovering on everyone's mind: "Is Sephiroth…?"
For the first time, Avalanche turned their eyes to Cloud's empty position and the map posted beyond. The very highest point drawn on the parchment glared at them like an ugly eye. Reeve didn't bother turning to the beast. "Still in Crater. He hasn't moved." At that moment, Red was terribly thankful for the executive's calming hand that never left his shoulder. Reeve was terribly thankful that Red had remained at his side and supported him. Cid was terribly thankful that he'd saved this cigarette for emergencies. The pilot took a long drag on the tobacco; crackling, burning paper was the only sound in the room as they studied the map.
Tifa suddenly pushed away from Vincent with a wordless scream and fell to her knees, clutching and shaking her head. She pulled at her hair and cried out unintelligible denials and protestations, calling out for Cloud and groping around in a blind panic. Her fingers stretched and reached then brushed against Vincent's cloak to which she clung and returned to a hiccupping silence. The gunman kneeled down and wrapped her up in the crimson expanse and began murmuring words to settle and comfort the woman.
Cid's hand had returned to rubbing his forehead and the cigarette butt remained between his lips. Again, he sighed, low and raspy. "So what now?"
So, chapter two. I think the relevence of "Meteor" is apparent. I'd like to say that my inspirations for each scene are as follows: Midgar - Armageddon with Bruce Willis, Wutai - Sodom and Gomorrah (pillar of salt and all that good stuff), Nibelheim - Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within (facinated with that Lifestream vs Lifestream business... and the Phantoms), and, uh, every End-of-the-World-Post-Apocalyptic-Shit-Hits-the-Fan scene I've ever watched.
No, I do not support Vincent-Tifa, since I'm a firm believer of Vincent-Lucretia and ClouTi. However, if this didn't have a different ending planned, I'd say that they'd definately be the closest. But that's not the ending.