Note: Well, well, well. It has been now over one year since I last wrote a chapter of this story, and for that I can do nothing but apologise. I have always been a procrastinator when it comes to my fanfic's, but I can't quite believe I've taken so long. I promise to write chapter six sooner. Finally, regarding the friend that Tifa refers to: he'll be making an appearance in two chapters time.

MIDGAR STORY

written by JetNoir

5. THE GATEHOUSE

28 days remaining until the destruction of Midgar

ANTHONY DEAD (as so witnessed)

Anthony was dead to begin with (although previously his state of existence was the opposite to his now decaying state), and already things were wrong in the metallic city.

I stand above the ground where he is buried, locked within the earth and a thousand crying souls.

There is an oddness here. A coldness. It is as if the lifestream is failing.

Suddenly I cry out in pain, and fall to the ground. What is happening to me? What is this? Pain? Mine, or that of the dead's?

My head is screaming, but then I realise it is me. I open my eyes, to find myself lying sideways along the ground.

I get up quickly, and look around. There is no-one here. Good. I am grateful for that tender mercy.

So what now? Flee. Retreat. Regroup.

Mind you, I don't have a group yet.

So what was it that I felt? Power. A raw, terrifying power. What was it?

…Unless.

No. That's too ridiculous.

It cannot be…yet it must be.

--

IN SOLITUDE - ON THE PLATE: PRESIDENT SHINRA

He liked it up here in the evenings, with a cool breeze blowing around him, watching the sun go down. To stand right on the top of the plate was to stand in the only non-polluted area of Midgar: it was as if it were the eye of a hurricane consisting not of wind, but of pollution. Not that he minded the waste products hurtling into the atmosphere - for he had built his fortune upon it - but it was also nice to get away from time to time. And now, the sun a burnt orange colour, slowly disappearing over the horizon, he sighed and smiled. His life was a good one. He was the President after all.

His smile slipped away as soon as he remembered the report at the top of his in-tray. That file. The one predicting the very destruction of his precious city. Damn Reeve! Not that it was his fault for finding the problem, but there must be a scapegoat, and for now, the pen-pusher was it.

Could the Mako explode? Certainly. And there were reservoirs deep enough to leave a horrifying crater where he was standing right now. His personal evacuation plan was ready, and he would flee in a heartbeat: but he fervently hoped it wouldn't come to that. He would hate to be chased away. What sort of example would that set to his son?

--

LILIA

If you were to take to Midgar from the skies, and gaze on the people below, you would see many things. Flying as a god, you could witness horrors, wonders, love, death, cruelty, kindness, faith…

Right now, in this second of time, there is an argument. One that is heartfelt, by two people who love each other desperately and passionately. But right now, they are in a state of total disagreement.

"We have to tell people," cried Lilia, "right now, as many as we can find."

"That's exactly the sort of response I could expect from you," Min yelled, "and it is naïve in the extreme! You can't just tell these people! They wouldn't believe you. Then within twenty minutes you would be captured. An hour: imprisoned. A day? Probably executed for dissent. Lilia, I can't let you do this. It's too dangerous, and there would be no good because of it. Would your incarceration help anyone? You don't even know that report is genuine."

"I understand politics as well as you do. And if this report is a hoax, it's a damn good one. Why would someone go to such trouble."

"All I'm saying is be more careful. Lil…there something that isn't right here."

"You think?"

"Yes, I do! And you should as well. Hell, Lilia, we're out of our depth."

"So what do you suggest?"

"We wait. See what happens."

"According to this report, we don't have any time!"

Min stopped, and now, words failed him. He didn't know what to do, and he told Lilia so, then added: "Look, I have to report to work. I'll see you tonight. Don't do anything until then."

He walked out the door, disturbed.

Lilia took the report and sat down, then read it yet again.

Once finished, she said: "Well…there are those freedom fighters."

--

MIN

The sun has now set, as we visit the barracks.

Min was reading. Admittedly something he rarely did, but this was different. It was an intelligence report:

Department of Public Maintenance (Special Operations, SOLDIER Division)

The Following File is Classified

Unauthorised Viewing is Punishable by Imprisonment and / or a Severe Fine

Do Not Accept From Courier If Seal Is Broken

Eyes Only: Min (Commander of Platoon 978)

Intelligence on 'AVALANCHE Insurgents' within Costa Del Sol:

As a member of SOLDIER (Second Class), you will, of course, be aware of the ecological terrorist group entitled AVALANCHE. The Shinra Electric Company and it's conglomerates; being the dominant ruling force of our planet, have instituted a no tolerance police on these dangerous subversives. The terrifying aspects of their propaganda is that they have no basis in fact. This fantasy they have created threatens to undermine all the good Shinra is doing for our planet, and the people who live under our benevolent protection.

The AVALANCHE cell is comprised of five members who live on Main Street in Costa Del Sol. The cell comprises of the following members:

(The following information has been excluded from this report due to inexplicable inaccuracies. See enclosed sheet "5a" for the revised intelligence.)

Your orders are simple. Delete this cell. Show no mercy.

The very best of luck to you and your platoon.

--

An AVALANCHE of Catastrophic Proportions: TIFA LOCKHEART and BARRET WALLACE

"These damn re-ports don't mean one jot to me, ya know!" Barret Wallace, leader of AVALANCHE was deeply frustrated, "this could be Shinra rats for all we know!"

"Barret," said Tifa Lockheart, proprietor and barmaid of 7th Heaven; the bar they were standing in the basement of, "think sensibly. We could have a holocaust on our hands. Literal fire, destroying everything, people and buildings."

"To destroy Midgar…"

"But not the people, Barret. Not the people."

"What I'm saying, girl, is that we don't know anything for sure. This woman works for Shinra!"

"Exactly. We should at least agree to meet her." Tifa sighed bitterly, and placed her hands on her hips. "You know," she said, "I had a friend once. A good friend from my childhood. He promised to rescue me if I ever needed it. Although I don't know about rescuing, I wonder where he is right now. It was so long ago."

"This ain't no time for goddam nostalgia!" Barret said, "And alright, set up this meet with the Shinra lady. But you better not be wrong, you hear! Anyways, where's Jessie?"

"Out, getting some new parts for a device. Explosive."

"Alright…so what's our next target…"

--

FUREW and THE FLOWER GIRL

The next morning, with the sun having barely risen. Twenty seven days remaining.

The church seemed extra peaceful today, with sunbeams penetrating the plate from the world above, and flooding the church with light. Despite the light, it was cool inside, and still. Kneeling in front of the flowers, was Furew, who was gently watering them, humming softly. She turned when the large front doors opened.

"Aeris!" she cried happily, getting up clumsily, and running towards the pink-dressed figure, throwing her arms around the tops of Aeris' legs.

"Hello, Furew," said the Flower Girl, placing her free arm around the little girl. Her other arm was immobilised by a basket filled with new flowers, bulbs, and seeds.

"Welcome back, Aeris. I missed you."

Aeris smiled, her face lighting up: "I missed you too, Furew. I thought about you every day. I just had to get away after the festival. Find some new blooms. New lives for our church."

"Then let's plant them."

Aeris smiled again, as she passed the little girl the heavy basket. Furew grunted, and started to drag it to the other flowers.

Aeris was glad to be back. Not because of the city, but of the people here. Elmyra especially, but Furew and a few others. She had missed them during her brief sojourn. But as she turned back to the door to close it, her smile fell. Her eyes darkened. The city had felt wrong to her, much more wrong then it usually was. It was scaring her badly. She didn't want to show Furew her fear…but she knew something was coming soon.

She closed the door, and turning back to the little girl, she tried to replace her smile, but Furew noticed that it didn't reach Aeris' eyes.

--

EDGE

Edge was perturbed.

He was on the rooftops of Sector 5, trying to ignore the metallic-smelling drizzle that oozed down the back of his neck. Acid rain. Mild enough not to penetrate human skin, but still more that damaging to any fauna in…ah. Of course there is no fauna until the metal ends.

But Edge just didn't care. Self-preservation was a largely deciding factor (if not the majority vote) in any decision regarding himself. He hated it here. He felt cold and unclean all the time…but in Midgar he had the greatest opportunity for profit. That was the second deciding factor.

The third is information. One thing Edge always made sure of was that he was constantly informed of every little thing to pass through the gatehouses. He had a large network of informers (who obviously didn't know who they were working for), who made sure that Edge knew more than most. Not everything…but quite a lot.

For instance, he had heard rumours that the Turks had become quite nervous about something. New orders, or some-such. They had stopped harassing a pretty young flower girl, the one who looked after the church. It was that serious.

For the Turks to stop recruiting…something was going on. Edge had heard the metal city of Midgar was becoming more dangerous than usual. Whispers of something bubbling under the streets.

So Edge considered visiting the Gatehouse, and leaving. He could get paid anywhere. Not as well as in Midgar, but money couldn't be spent if you were dead.

But as he considered fleeing…he wondered: what about that little girl?

--

SHINRA ADMINISTRATIVE DEPARTMENT IN RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT (THE TURKS)
Tseng, Vincent, Reno and Rude

"The wretched things you come up with," said Tseng softly, "search for a tree. A tree! As if there are any of those in Midgar."

"Just some flowers in that church," said Reno.

"It feels right," said Vincent, "don't ask me how I know, but I do."

Rude looked up from the glossy magazine he was glancing at, and said, to the surprise of the others: "Why are we looking in Midgar. There are some trees, right outside the gatehouses."

Tseng looked at Rude, and said: "That's actually a good idea." He looked at his fellow Turks and nodded. They began to move, gently out of the area, Rude last, dropping his magazine on the ground, reverting to his usual, uncommunicative self.

As they walked to the gatehouses, a fly landed on the magazine. If it had the ability to read, it would have seen a special offer: half price discount at the Honeybee Inn - limited time only.

--

ERICA

Streaks of lightning flashed violently in the distance. Erica breathed deeply, somewhat afraid - although there was no reason to be. Yet it was another reason not to walk forward into a new world. Electricity in the far distance, in the sky…wild, crackling and untamed. Not like Shinra's monstrous creation. The bloated city she cowered and whimpered in.

No.

That was to harsh. She always had set her sights to high. Now she knew she might never leave this place. If only she could take those few steps.

Erica stood at one of the gateways, right on the outskirts of Midgar, her only home. The gateway, itself was oddly deserted…there really should have been a few guards here.

Obviously she was glad there were none. So she stayed here, and watched the storm, trapped between thunder and metal. Her personal rock-and-a-hard-place.

Yet, due to it's distance, she never noticed the storm was slowly inching towards her, even from the horizon. Ever closer to her home.

--

SAKURA

It was dark in the room, pitch black. A cheap room, rented in a cheap part of the slums. On the bedside table, their was a vial of blood; one that had been procured with violence. Next to it was a book, with 'PRAYER' embossed on the cover.

Sakura was sitting on the edge of her bed, her long copper hair falling freely, no longer covered up. She was crying, and had been for some time. She was grieving.

But in her grief, came an opportunity. One for cleansing, washing away the filth on these cold, lonely streets. An opportunity she would take full advantage of.

The items she was assembling had a singular purpose, that of dark, evil sorcery. She would need to move onto the plate soon, and she would have to find a materia to channel this raw power through.

All this effort for something terrible. Something horrifying. Something that was supposed to be impossible.

The resurrection of the dead.

--

THE WITNESS

There is a power growing slowly in Midgar. Raw, terrifying power. It is the cause of the Mako instability, and if this power does not stop soon. Well, for want of a better word: boom. The electricity and the Mako that this city relies on will be it's undoing.

I do not know what is causing it, but I can make a very educated guess. Sakura. The woman, and her unholy lover were dangerous in her day. She must be more so, with his demise. I have had my clashes with the both of them, within the past. Yet she remains a mystery, an enigma. I know very little about her. Just that she is astonishing dangerous.

In order to save Midgar, to stop it's destruction, one thing must happen. This aggravating power must be stopped. If not, an exodus must begin; and all the inhabitants of this metallic city must leave. If not, they will die.

The storm is coming.

Twenty seven days remaining.

Disclaimer: All the characters from Final Fantasy VII are copyright to Square Enix; and the story, plus original characters to me. This story has been written on the understanding that you may read it and print it out; but you may not pass it off as your own, hire it out, or sell it for money. You also may not put it on your own or any other web page (this includes links)without my express written permission. Thankyou!

JetNoir