Chapter One – Lone Wolf
Edge was a city overflowing with human activity - hundreds if not thousands of people wandered through the cramped main streets. The roads were almost completely cracked, and very dusty, making both the sidewalk and roads themselves uncomfortable to walk on.
Several vehicles made their way around the city, obstructed greatly by the pedestrians, who were too great in number to keep to the sidewalk alone.
High rising building could be found all around the city, each one most likely out of use, falling apart, or both. After all, this was a city built on the outskirts of the now ruined Midgar, making it a city of very little wealth.
One could even be forgiven for mistaking this town for a construction site, as a huge number of steel girders and unfinished buildings made the land a complete eyesore – worsened by the fact that the ruined city of Midgar could be seen from almost anywhere in Edge.
At the center of town, the road looped in a large circle, with various streets shooting off from this, akin to the spokes of a wheel.
A huge memorial statue stood proud in the middle of the roundabout, erected by the Shinra Company in honor of those who had died in the Meteor Crisis, and other events before this such as the Sector 7 destruction (although ironically this event occurred due to the actions of Shinra.)
To some, this statue was an encouraging sight, which told them to never give up hope, no matter how tough life became. This feeling was grimly contrasted however, by the reminder it gave to those who would rather forget the horrific past. The Meteor Crisis had affected every single person in Edge, and there were no exceptions to this fact. It was often said that had the Meteor Crisis not occurred, the population would have been triple what it now was.
Throughout Edge, a multitude of children could be found on the streets, many of them suffering from hunger beyond comprehension. There were many without parents, who had either been killed in the Crisis, or perhaps more dreadfully, abandoned the children in order to fend for themselves.
A trio found themselves in a small alleyway, not far from the town center. One of them was perched on the bottom end of a diagonally placed beam, which supported a large road sign overhead. He sported a worn, scruffy hat, and clothes which were far too small for him. His two friends were in similar states, all three of them scrawny and weak due to the lack of food which they received.
Oddly, the trio each had a white bandage wrapped around their bodies at some part or another, as though covering a wound.
"Let's go!" one of them suggested, a surprisingly upbeat tone in her voice considering the situation she found herself in. The child who had placed himself on the beam leaped down, his feet landing in a considerably deep puddle, soaking straight through his tattered shoes, causing even greater discomfort for the boy. Seemingly unnerved, the young lad and his friends pressed on, towards the opposite end of the alleyway.
Elsewhere in the city, multiple other children found themselves in situations not dissimilar to that of the three friends previously mentioned. One alleyway in particular was absolutely littered with orphans; each of them sitting slumped against the grimy walls. Every single one of them looked equally miserable and sick, and a few of them were even crying into their hands, which were already soiled with dirt.
A small, pretty girl could be seen looking from a bedroom window, her hands pressed against the cold, murky glass.
"It looks like the planet is a lot madder than we thought…" she muttered to nobody in particular, as she observed the poor diseased children not far from her home. "They call it Geostigma…"
She turned on one heel, and her eyes were met with the sight of a small bedroom, which had a warm, homely feel to it. Most of it was constructed of wood, including the two single beds which sat parallel to each other on either side of the room, tartan design duvets draped over both of them. A door at the other end of the bedroom was left open, and through it you could see into a hallway, in which there was a set of stairs leading downstairs, and a poorly managed office not a few meters away from the bedroom in which Marlene now stood.
The young girl looked to the large mirror in the corner of the room, which was scuffed and scratched. Staring back at her was a pretty female, who had not even reached her teens yet. Marlene wore a white jumper-dress with a turtle neck, and her hair was tied in a lovely pink bow.
Walking over towards the bed closest to the door, Marlene looked at the boy named Denzel who lay sleeping in it. Even though the boy who must have been no older than eleven or twelve was resting, his face often contorted in pain, and he wriggled underneath the covers of the bed. Subconsciously, he moaned, and brought one hand up to his forehead, holding it tightly.
As soon as this happened, his eyes snapped open, landing instantly on Marlene, who was trying her hardest to hide the expression of anxiety on her pretty young face.
"Well Marlene?" Denzel murmured, his voice slurred with tiredness. "How does it look?" He asked, brushing away a few bangs of his long brown hair, which were obscuring an extraordinary black mark on his forehead – the unmistakable sign that he too was afflicted with the new, strange disease known as Geostigma – Planet Scar Syndrome. Some said that it was known as that because it killed so many people, it was as though the planet itself was wounded.
Marlene simply smiled at Denzel, scooping up a white cloth from the pillow on which his head was resting.
Please… she thought, as she placed the white cloth over Denzel's forehead, covering the hideous black scar, as if in a feeble attempt to nullify the deadly effects of the stigma. Please don't take Denzel away…
Downstairs, there was a small bar, which was dimly lit yet still had a very homely feel to it, much like the rest of the small house/bar combination building. There were several slow spinning ceiling fans generating a cool, gentle breeze in the room. Black and white family pictures were hung from the wall in matching frames, and they, like the rest of the bar, were neatly kept and well looked after.
Behind the bar was a range of alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks, as well as a large multitude of glasses. Several of these drinking glasses were piled up next to the sink, along with a fair number of plates.
The barmaid was a beautiful young woman who didn't look a day past twenty. She had big, beautiful eyes and a perfect body. Her hair was straight and long, falling some way down her back. She wore a sleeveless leather top, and a skirt which matched this in fashion.
The woman known as Tifa scrubbed at the plates and glasses with a sponge, the water from the tap still running, foaming up the soap in the sink. Somewhere in the house, a phone was ringing, yet Tifa ignored it, sighing as she dried a plate with a cloth.
"He's not here anymore…" she murmured, her already quiet voice barely audible over the combined racket of clanking glasses, running water and the ringing phone.
As the ringing persisted, Tifa glanced towards the general direction of the phone, as she shut off the tap, which squeaked as she did so. Then, having dried her hands, the barmaid paced into the back room, which was barely decorated if at all, and headed up the narrow staircase that lead to the bedrooms and office.
Tifa stopped in the passageway in between the children's bedroom and the office, and looked in through the open door. Marlene was sitting by Denzel's bed, as usual, and the boy in question was lying under the covers, one hand nursing the throbbing sore caused by his Geostigma.
"Cloud… where are you?" he sighed, seemingly unaware to Tifa's presence in the hallway. The young woman sighed, before turning to the office, in which the phone was still ringing.
What a persistent customer… she thought upon walking into the small, untidy room which was lit fairly well by natural light which beamed in through the three windows at the far end of the small room. There was a desk in the middle of the office, covered in sheets of paper with various different orders, telephone numbers and other details written on them. An empty can of soda was even being used as a paperweight, sitting just to the right of an elegantly framed picture, in which stood Tifa, Marlene and Denzel. They were accompanied in the photograph by a tall blond man who held himself well and had a confident look in his strangely glowing eyes.
"Hello?" Tifa said, scooping up the phone from its base and hitting the green button to accept the call. "Strife Delivery Service – you name it, we deliver…" She stopped, cut off by the caller on the other end of the phone. Whatever the caller had said had obviously disturbed Tifa to some degree, as she placed a defiant hand on one hip, as her voice became tinted with a little aggression.
"May I ask who's calling?" She said firmly, yet still maintaining a fairly polite, business-like expression. The caller answered her casually, and the woman relaxed her stance, smiling, and even letting a quiet laugh escape her lips. "Yeah, I remember you!" she said cheerfully, as the caller continued talking.
The barren wasteland was riddled with boulders and a large number of cliffs, which gave any observer from that platform a good view of both Edge and Midgar. A cold, chill wind swept over the place, where there was almost no life at all. No flowers grew, and the sparse patches of grass were either dead or dying.
A lone man sat atop a motorbike of peculiar design, with his clamshell cell phone pressed to one ear. His blond hair was wildly spiked, and he wore a black outfit of a rather odd design. The top he wore was sleeveless, however a sleeve did cover his left arm, but one could tell from the contrast in material that this was something he had added to the outfit himself. On his left shoulder was a sturdy metal guard, with a wolf design crafted into it. The man wore long black gloves, and thick, sturdy boots.
A short beeping sound announced to the man that he had a new voicemail message. Shortly after this noise, a voice came in over the phone.
"You got a call from Reno. He's in Healin. Says he's got work for you."
The message had been unmistakably left by Tifa – no doubt about it. There wasn't a day that went by that the lone mercenary didn't miss her.
"Cloud… how've you been?" she asked, shortly before an electronic voice told him that he had no more new messages. Cloud flipped the phone shut, and moved his hand to the side of his pants, slipping the cell into a pocket on the long black trousers.
As he did this, Cloud gripped his left arm, his hand pressing down tightly on it. His face twisted into a slight grimace, but the man shook his head, before grabbing a pair of riding goggles which dangled from his neck by a strap. He placed them onto the bridge of his nose, fastening them into position, ready to depart on his bike.
Getting into position, Cloud grabbed the handlebars with each of his hands; however he recoiled in pain as he did this, more so than he had done last time, grunting and cursing quietly through gritted teeth. Curling his left hand into a fist, the man sighed, before replacing himself in a riding position, determined to ignore his injury.
Squeezing on the acceleration triggers found just past the handlebars, Cloud's bike known as Fenrir roared to life, the engine barking as wheels span, kicking up a plume of dust behind the bike as it tore off, quickly disappearing into the landscape of boulders and rubble.
It was at another ledge, this one higher up yet closer to the cities of Midgar and Edge that three more bikes pulled up, each one identical in a design which was not greatly dissimilar to that of Fenrir. Each rider was clad in a leather suit of similar fashion, only small details such as differing lengths or alternate fastenings causing difference between the attire of the three.
The rider of the center-placed bike pulled up at the ledge, kicking over a sword which had been planted in the ground – some time ago, judging by the rust and decay evident on it's surface. Unknown to these three silver haired men, the sword had in fact once belonged to Cloud Strife, and was placed in memorial on that ledge overlooking Midgar on the sight where the previous owner of the weapon, Zack Fair, had died to save Cloud.
"Hey, Kadaj…" the biker on the right-hand side of the middle biker said. His voice was quiet, and casual. He sounded altogether polite, perhaps even a little bored. The man's hair was – like that of the other two men – silver, and his was the longest of the three, falling down his back neatly. "Is that where big brother lives?" he asked, his question directed to the medium-haired male who sat in the center of the three.
"Yeah…" Kadaj replied, a smile playing over his thin lips. The first speaker, Yazoo, turned to him, his neutral expression not changing.
"Do you think he'll be glad to see us?" Yazoo asked, voice still almost monotonous.
"Not a chance!" Kadaj said, half laughing.
"Don't cry Yazoo!" barked the bulkier of the three men, who sat to Kadaj's left.
"But mother's with him…" The long haired man said, his voice drifting off as though he was thinking, as he fidgeted on the seat of his bike.
"Maybe not." Kadaj suggested, his tone revealing no emotion whatsoever. A sobbing noise from the left indicated to Yazoo and Kadaj that – yet again – their other brother was crying.
"Don't cry, Loz." Yazoo purred, looking over towards the short haired man.
Kadaj, who seemed to have ignored his brother's whining, looked towards the right, where he saw a small black speck, speeding towards them across the boulder field. The youngest man's eyes widened, as a feeling of realization washed over him.
"Hold on…" he said, smiling. "He's coming!" the man announced to his two brothers, his eyes lighting up like those of a small child who had just received a gift. All three of the men now followed Cloud's bike with their eyes, as it crossed the wasteland effortlessly.
Yazoo and Loz looked at each other, and nodded in synchronization, each of them then taking up riding positions, releasing the brakes and squeezing down on the acceleration triggers, their bikes howling into life as they launched forwards and off the ledge, hurtling towards Cloud Strife at great speed. Kadaj grinned as he watched his brothers hasten towards their target.
The chase was on.