Note: Well, it's only been a year since I wrote the last chapter…So at this rate, I'll be in my thirties before it's ever finished. One good thing, I have all the chapters nicely mapped out, so all I can hope is to get some momentum going. As well as actual typing. Anyway, I digress: this chapter contains moderate violence; no deliberate political views (Durzi is an old Persian word, and seemed to fit into the tapestry of Midgar nicely); and with many thanks to BeatricePortinari - for always being there.
MIDGAR STORY
written by JetNoir
6. THE WIND IN THE PINES
25 days remaining until the destruction of Midgar
Midgar knows that it is dying.
Quite how a city had reached a state of such painful sentience is unclear, but to the casual observer all of the signs are there. Every so often, the ground shakes violently. There are strange apparitions. Midgar both cries, and whispers.
The people react by claiming it is superstition's forces that are causing it, but Midgar knows better. With every noxious belch, the city draws closer to its own demise. The raw power it is built on is killing it. Constantly overloading.
Midgar is dying quickly. It is dying painfully.
We are twenty-five days from critical mass.
Twenty-five days from the destruction of an entire people.
Twenty-five days from the most horrific act of terrorism the world had ever seen.
Twenty-five days from genocide.
--
A Crossroads for THE MAYOR and THE PRESIDENT
In the vast majority of the cities and towns dotted throughout the world, the person in charge of those communities would be the elected Mayor, or town Boss. Not so in Midgar. Since the messy birth of the metal city, only one person had ruled with an iron fist. The Shinra Dynasty of the Shinra Electrical Company had always reigned supreme; it's President in charge of the largest military and economic society in the world. He was the de facto leader of the world - and even though the world would always loathe him; they must always be willing to accept him.
So why was there a Mayor in Midgar? Quite simple he was a holdover from the days when the sectors were separate villages. The people liked having an elected spokesperson, and the Presidents of Shinra blithely allowed this practise continue. It was not as if these simple men could do anything.
The current Mayor of Midgar is Domino, and on the sixty-second floor of The Shinra Building, a conference is taking place. A somewhat one-sided conference at that.
"I realise I am nothing more than a puppet Mayor," said Domino, "and that I have no power or say in affairs. Your generous payments see to that. But I am still Mayor in name, and I implore you. You must do something about this problem."
"You have taken me away from dealing with these problems," said the President, scorn residing in his voice, "to complain about said problems? What kind of imbecile are you?"
"A desperate one! President Shinra…you informed my office of this dire situation a few hours ago. Until I called for you, your company has made no effort to interface with this office. Surely we can at least help. If nothing but with an evacuation."
Shinra's eyes flared: "No, Mayor, no. I will not allow the inhabitants to abandon my city. We will solve this problem, and we will prevail. We are merely dealing with a few…setbacks."
"Setbacks? Setbacks!" Domino's voice grew shrill, "Shinra is the only superpower on the planet, and our capital city is about to blow up! This is no mere setback, Mister President. It is an utter disaster."
The President shifted his corpulent form, and re-arranged his bright red suit. He yawned suddenly, rudely indicating his boredom. Domino noticed this, and cringed. He realised his time with the President was over; and of course nothing was done. It had been a simple waste of time. As always.
Cowed and submissive, Domino lowered his head: "Thankyou for your time, Mister President."
The President belched, and then said: "Very well. I will make sure your…request is seen to. As I was doing before this goddamn meeting."
He walked out the door, both sides bumping into the narrow frame. The Mayor was alone again, in his small room, on the sixty-second floor. And despite being alone he spoke up again, quietly, but with feeling.
"I cannot do anything. I truly am a puppet. I am worthless here. Damn you, sir! You lead us all to ruin. All to desolation, and for what? Gil? Power? You would forsake your own people for nothing. They truly mean nothing to you. They are but as ants…So why must I stay? Why can I not go home? I would like to see the sea again. Feel the foam beneath my feet, the waves crashing against the sand. To feel at peace."
His mind made up, his soul bolstered, he moved towards the door, and tried the release.
Nothing happened. It was locked from the outside. Either by the President or one of his aides, Mayor Domino was trapped here, in this small room.
Unheard and alone. Always alone.
--
LILIA
Lilia felt an inordinate amount of pain as she walked down the dark streets of Midgar. A more elite citizen of the metal city might have noted she was going to commit an act of perfidy. All Lilia knew was that she was going to betray her lover.
Lilia loved Min passionately. Her thoughts were consumed of him. She belonged to him, completely and utterly, but when it came to the lives of all who resided around her; she couldn't sit back and invite destruction. To do so would be sheer folly, and Lilia was no fool.
She didn't know much about the ecological terrorist group…beyond what the Midgar propaganda had preached. Lilia discounted all that immediately, like any other sensible person.
So her plans were set. And no matter how much it tore her in two; it seemed that these strange and dangerous people might be the only ones willing to listen to her tale of madness.
--
MIN
and his Platoon
Costa Del Sol
As a whole, Min rarely felt airsick. His training had been so intensive, that his mind was compartmentalised to ignore extraneous sensations. Such as motion sickness. Or, for that matter, bullets.
Yet the turbulence was astonishing as the plane made its final descent towards the tropical paradise of Costa Del Sol. Min had noticed how much the wind had picked up, ever since they left the relative protection of Midgar airspace. Here in the open, that plane was open to the whims of the Planet…and yet it was almost as if it was something more.
Min chuckled inwardly at the ridiculous thought, and cleared his head as the aircraft landed with a bump. He grabbed his rifle, and looked at his platoon.
"Alright, men," he said, "move out."
--
Shinra's air force was the finest on the Planet, and the AVALANCHE cell never knew what hit them. The Platoon, standing out in their uniforms, rushed down main street, rifles pointed outwards. The tourists that were enjoying the warm (but blustery) weather, moved quickly aside, fearing for their own lives. No-one cried out in alarm, for they didn't want to draw any attention to themselves. Reaching the door, Min nodded to his explosives expert, who moved forward to the door, placing a small explosive charge on the lock. The team moved several steps back, until Min whispered:
"Fire in the hole."
The team shut their eyes while the explosives expert pressed a button on the detonator. The explosion was small, and sounded like a car backfiring, and as the door swung open, Min lurched forward, looking for his targets; his men behind him. He saw three sitting at a table, picked a victim, and opened fire. The rifle roared, as bullets flew towards the table. Half a moment later, his team followed suit, and the three men lay dead on the ground.
A gunshot went off near Min's head, and he flinched as two women burst into the room waving pistols, firing blindly in fury. The Platoon swivelled, and returned fire, killing the women instantly. From start to finish, the massacre had lasted a scant fifteen seconds.
Mission accomplished.
--
AVALANCHE: TIFA LOCKHEART and BARRET WALLACE with LILIA
Midgar
Lilia admitted to herself that while the dark alley was something of a wretched cliché, she was comforted by the anonymity of it all. It wasn't very long before she rewarded by the sight of a burly man, with a metallic arm; accompanied by a young girl with very long, black hair.
"Are you Lilia?"
Lilia nodded, and the girl smiled:
"I'm glad you came. Forgive me for not sharing my name, or that of my friend. We must be careful, you see. Now I believe you wanted to show us something."
Lilia handed over a copy of the incriminating file, and its accompanying documents, which Tifa gratefully took. Opening it, she squinted slightly, shifting the file around to best find the greasy light emanating from the street. Her eyes widened, and she passed it over to Barrett, nodding agreement.
"Thankyou for bringing this to our attention, Lilia. This will prove…useful."
"I'm glad," said Lilia, "now if you'll excuse me, I'll be on my way."
"Hold on a damn momen'" growled Barett, "you ain't goin' nowhere."
"Oh, I rather think I am," said Lilia, "I've taken enough risks here. I've betrayed a confidence, and I'm still not entirely sure of this documents veracity."
"Where did it come from?" asked Tifa.
"It was left for me. I don't know from whom. I can only guess it isn't a trap, from the length of time it's been in my possession."
"So you're unsure whether it's true or not?" said Tifa.
"Not entirely, but it's too bizarre to be made up. Plus with the odd things that have been going on. I think it's real, alright. Now I really must be going."
"Wait a moment," said Tifa, "you have to help us spread the word. Testify to the people of Midgar. We'll protect you with everything we have."
Lilia's face darkened. She had half-expected this, but still:
"No. I will never do that, young lady. Neither with you, nor without you. I have more to protect than my own life, and I have risked that to much already. Do with it what you will."
She walked away, without even saying goodbye.
--
Of course Lilia wasn't to know her precautions were for naught, and her secret was very close to some very dangerous people. The gentleman standing on the rooftop far above the group of three was not the Witness, rather, a witness. As he watched the other two figures walk away in the other directions, he smiled.
--
SOLDIER
Platoon 17 - First Class
Presidential Protection Detail
The Shinra Building, 13th Floor
The Upper Plate, Midgar
As an organisation, the Shinra Electric Corporation has many enemies. It's President has even more.
One such enemy is the city-state of Wutai, and its leader, Lord Godo. Over a decade had passed since a long and devastating war began, leaving both sides with massive casualties. Ending less than five years earlier, with great bitterness and regret, Wutai succumbed to its ravages. Godo never forgot Shinra's cruelty, and vowed one day to seek revenge. It was only now, after his beloved daughter departed her homeland in search of riches, did he choose to exact it.
--
The team of assassins was very small, and their mission was devastatingly precise. They were all handpicked by Godo, after years of training for this very day. They were to climb to the top of Shinra Tower, and murder President Shinra, along with his son and heir; Vice-President Rufus Shinra. It was hoped that in the power vacuum that would inevitable follow, the senior partners/board members (Palmer, Scarlett, Heidegger, Hojo and Reeve) would destroy each other in the rush to seize the reins of command.
It was a good plan. An excellent plan, in fact. It had only one small hiccup…SOLDIER Platoon 17. Very well trained, their bodies and minds infused with Mako, giving them super-strength and heightened abilities, they were the epitome of Shinra's willingness to tamper with the natural order of things. The assassin's never knew what hit them.
One moment, they had been creeping silently along a dark and deserted corridor, trying to find a usable elevator. They had recently 'acquired' a key card, and were confident enough to speed up a little.
Of course, the motion sensors that lined random corridors flared up, and Platoon 17 were sent to investigate. They were a little surprised to find the assassins had progressed so far, and elected to make sure they went further.
The assassins never stood a chance.
--
EDGE
Edge was smiling, which in his book, was something of a good sign. The target he had been assigned to follow (for reasons unusually abstract and unclear), had departed, and the two people she had met with were just leaving. Edge, of course, didn't know anything about a dead preacher called Anthony, only to follow a young woman called Lilia, and find out if she had, or was going to meet with anyone else. Knowing his orders were clear, he began to carefully move along the rooftops, following the burly man with a gun for an arm, and an especially pretty girl, to wherever they would lead him.
He, in turn, would lead them all to the Turks.
--
22 days remaining until the destruction of Midgar
Three days later, a small theft boosting the amount of coins in his pocket, Edge reflected on his failure.
His pursuit of the two targets had fallen victim to a stupid, rookie mistake. Mistakes he was making far too often, these days. While on the rooftops, he had slipped on a loose roofing tile, sending it crashing to the ground. He had barely avoided falling himself, but the noise (and impromptu missile) had alerted the quarry's to his presence. Edge sighed. Perhaps it was time to retire. Before the Turks decided to retire him.
He had alerted them of course, been completely honest, and relaying all his relevant knowledge. Tseng had been very brief, and yet Edge had noticed the growing hostility. He had heard nothing since. Not a good sign.
Perhaps a holiday was in order. A change of scenery, something new. Now that a terrorist cell had been revealed and eliminated, perhaps Costa Del Sol might provide his needed respite. Good food, beautiful women. The sand beneath his feet, the ocean waves lapping gently. Yes. It was exactly what he needed.
Lost in his own thoughts, Edge ended up making yet another mistake. Turning a corner, he flinched in surprise as a nightstick came crashing down toward him. He turned quickly, taking the blow on his shoulder. Crying out in pain, he used the sideways momentum he'd built to crash into his attacker, knocking him to the floor.
"You'll pay for that," snarled Reno, his easygoing demeanour changing rapidly. Edge move swiftly backwards as the Turks started to move in.
--
The Other Side of the Equation: LORD GODO
Pagoda of the Five Gods
Wutai
Sitting cross-legged on the top floor of the majestic Pagoda, Godo waited patiently. In the years of the Midgar-Wutai war, he had successfully set up a vast network of spies, able to relay messages with great speed. The relatively recent invention of the PHS had since made elements of this network redundant, but Godo still relied on them, and paid well for their services. He knew that the assassins had passed the date of the attack three days ago, be he had hoped it was simply down to an unforeseen change in plans. He had hoped that they had been able to prevail.
When he saw the face of his advisor, he finally knew it was not so.
"Well?" Godo whispered.
"My Lord," replied the advisor, "I regret to inform you…our plan is an utter failure. The assassins failed."
"Leave me," replied Godo sharply. The advisor bowed and withdrew, sliding the door shut behind him. Lord Godo lowered his head in shame, and the demeanour of his body slumped. He whispered to nobody in particular:
"President Shinra will destroy me for this."
--
FUREW
Midgar
Furew was very tired. She had just come home from the abandoned church, and even though it was only late afternoon, she had found her mother slumped on the sofa; unconscious. An empty bottle of moonshine lay next to her outstretched hand.
Furew immediately went to check her mother was still alive. When satisfied that she was still with the living, and the worry faded from her young brow; she set about cleaning up. First was the bottle, which went straight in the bin. Next, Furew found a clean blanket, and threw it over her mother's comatose form.
Furew went into the kitchen, and quietly closed the door behind her, blocking out all sounds of her mother's breathing. Moving to the cupboard she searched for food, and washed a plate to put it on.
Sitting at the table, she tried to put the food in her mouth, but found it suddenly dry, and she couldn't bring herself to start.
She soon realised where the moisture had gone to - her eyes.
Furew cried for a long time, well into the night; alone, except for a plate of cold food.
--
THE DURZI
The sign outside of Lennox's shop said 'Durzi', but he was nothing but a simple tailor at heart. It was an exotic name for a less-than exotic part of town (unless you were to visit a certain Inn within the immediate area). Sector Six was looking more dilapidated than usual; the Festival of Cherry Blossoms was long since gone. The only thing that shone bright was the sign, the one that read 'Durzi'. A long forgotten language that Lennox used to distinguish himself amongst his competition across the way. The other tailor…whose name Lennox hated to even contemplate…was infinitely more famous, but Lennox kept his resentment deep underneath a bitter professionalism. He loved cloth, and he made a steady trade. He realised after many years he would have to make do with that.
Today's trade was a little on the slow side, so while the people bustled around outside, he looked to the scrap of paper; on which an elegant hand had ordered something…well, bizarre. The durzi had never seen such an order in his life, indeed it had been something of a legend in tailor circles. Something impossibly expensive, something none of the lower inhabitants could ever afford in their lifetimes; and something only a fraction of the elite could dream of: Spinner. An occult cloth, woven with strands of pure Platinum, and hammered Materia - strands as thin as a single human hair - into a beautiful whole, believed to be utterly invulnerable. A buyer would have to pay twice - once for the materials, and again for the finished product. Lennox would have enough to retire, enough to live the rest of his life in a quiet section of the world, away from all the horrors of Midgar. And it was he who had been chosen; not his competitor. Lennox would soon be gone from here.
He would soon be free.
--
SHINRA ADMINISTRATIVE DEPARTMENT IN RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT (THE TURKS)
Tseng, Vincent, Reno and Rude
Edge's pistol was lying on the ground, Edge unable to reach it. It had been knocked away from him by Reno's nightstick, and now, all Edge was left to defend himself with was his short sword. It clashed against the nightstick, emitting showers of sparks, as the combatants both thrust and parried. Making both Reno's and Edge's lives more difficult was Rude, who silently kept moving forward, trying to jab and wallop Edge with his fists. More often than not, however, he got in the way of Reno, which was probably the reason Edge was still standing. While fending off his two attackers, Edge also kept half an eye on Tseng and Vincent, who were both circling warily. Tseng appeared unarmed at the moment, and Vincent was trying to aim his pistol at Edge's head. Again, both Reno and Rude were getting in the way - another reason Edge was still standing.
Rude came in for another pass, and Edge swivelled while holding his sword high, which resulted in the flat side colliding with Rude's bald head. With a gasp, he sank to the floor, still conscious, but disorientated, and with a feeling he was going to be violently sick. When Reno diverted his attention for a moment, Edge shifted so Reno was between him and Vincent's gun, then swivelled his sword in a circular motion around Reno's nightstick, causing him to drop it to the ground. Reno looked up in surprise, and Edge used the opportunity to plant a devastating blow, straight on his nose. Reno fell backwards, clutching his face.
Edge now had to make one of two choices. Tseng, or Vincent?
He chose Tseng. Running towards the leader of the Turks, he used his shoulder to tackle him to the ground. It was the wrong choice, and when Edge slammed into Tseng, knocking him over, he simultaneously felt the tremendous pain of his forgotten shoulder injury, and the cold, hard metal of Vincent's gun; now pressed against his temple.
"Freeze," said Vincent softly, "and drop it."
The sword fell to the ground with a clatter.
Both Tseng and Reno stood up, (Rude was still too disoriented). Blood was pouring from Reno's nose, and Tseng handed him a piece of cloth to try and stem it.
"Oh, man," said Reno, "I think you broke it. Why'd you go and do that?"
"You attacked me!" said Edge, to which Reno nodded his assent.
"True, true. But my nose? Where'd you get off doing something like that?"
"Tseng?" asked Vincent, "Want me to shoot him?"
"Hold on a moment," said Edge, "I'm meant to be working for you. I'm useful, and I more than earn my keep. You don't need to kill me!"
"You failed," said Tseng simply, "and this is something of a high profile job for us."
"Oh, you morons," replied Edge, "that was just one attempt. I was honest about it. I have more work planned. Now come on…please. Let me finish the job I started."
Vincent looked at Tseng, and Tseng nodded slightly. Vincent lowered the gun.
"Thankyou," said Edge, "thankyou. Now how about we go and get a drink? We can see where we go from here, and get some ice for Rude's head."
".……………" said Rude.
--
ERICA
The Train Station
A small suitcase was placed delicately at Erica's side, as she waited patiently for the train to come in. It was starting to get late, and Erica noticed the light beginning to go a little dimmer than usual. Not much natural light reached the slums from the Upper Plate, but enough did that a resident could tell whether it was day or night. Erica knew twilight was coming, as did the handful of people around her, all waiting for the same train.
Erica looked up, at the huge towers of metal, all holding up the monstrous ceiling, upon which the rich resided. Their pollution in turn falling back down into the slums below. It was an efficient system, but one that was hardly fair.
Erica was excited, one of the rare times in her life she allowed herself to feel as such. She had never left Midgar before, and had used up most of her savings to buy the train tickets. She was planning to visit the small town of Kalm, somewhat nearby, but far enough away that she could breathe clean air for the first time in her life. Her friend, Aeris, had been glad for her, and was happy to take full responsibility for the flower-strewn-church for the few days she would be absent.
The only thing Erica was worried about was Furew. The little girl had been withdrawn of late, and Erica decided that when she returned, she would have words with Furew's mother. This was no way for a little girl to live. It was no life at all.
Erica snapped out of her thoughts, when she heard the arrival of the train, and the accompanying blast of steam, issuing onto the platform. The steam even disguised the grimy nature of her surroundings, and unusually for her, Erica felt a glimmer of hope.
As she moved forward with her fellow passengers, Erica knew that perhaps, somewhere in the future, there was a life she could make for herself away from here.
And that this was the first step of many yet to come.
--
SAKURA
The bar in Sector Six was dark and noisy. Sakura detested being there, but found it an easy place to be able to hide in plain sight. Sometimes sacrifices would be required, and today, it was her personal comfort.
Sipping on an alcoholic liquid of unknown colour and origin, Sakura quietly observed the bar from her corner. She had an interesting ability (one of many) that while people were vaguely aware of her presence, she knew none of them would remember her face, and none would certainly approach her. It was useful, in that she didn't even have to fend off unwanted advances from the more 'romantic' element of the bar. That may have well ended in massive bloodshed.
Sakura was impatient. She knew the Rites she was preparing to perform required a significant amount of time, but she wished that wretched tailor would hurry up and finish her Spinner cloth. She needed it very soon, and for the amount it had cost her, she expected something of a better service. Yet the tailor's fate was sealed. He would not die. How would it look if a second shopkeeper were to mysteriously perish? Why, the authorities might think there was a serial-killer amongst their midst.
Of course the killings would escalate shortly. It was simply necessary. And those that were to die in the next twenty-two days would simply be saved from the horrors that were to come. Sakura genuinely thought of it as an act of mercy. As well as being tremendous fun.
--
After another hour had passed, the reason for her being in this filthy place became apparent. In walked five men; four dressed in the uniform of the Turks.
They all sat at a table in the other corner, and while Tseng went to fetch drinks, the other's positioned themselves, Edge especially - making sure he was closest to the door.
It took Tseng a few trips, but soon enough, everyone had a beverage, and Rude had a pack of ice held against his head. Reno's nose had since stopped bleeding, and Vincent insisted it wasn't broken; just bruised. Reno seemed to accept that.
Edge told the Turks everything he knew, and in turn, they told him that the woman Lilia was under surveillance for some unknown reason. They also told Edge that they wanted more information before they went before their superiors, and for now, she would be safe. Keep a close eye on her, and try to find out if she meets with anyone else. The dead preacher, Anthony, was not mentioned.
Edge was also told he was now on a time limit and to report in every day. That was most important at all. If they thought he was up to no good, they would go after him again. And this time, he would be very much dead.
That part was strongly emphasised.
--
When they had all finished speaking, Sakura smiled. It seemed that they were doing much of her job for her. She would keep her eyes on these various men, mercenary and Shinra alike. Why, it was always useful to have some human sacrifices ready and waiting. They would certainly prove their worth in the days to come.
And she must simply find time for this woman they were talking about. Sakura thought that a conversation with the woman called Lilia, would be simply fascinating.
--
THE WITNESS
It's so difficult to take a stand. I know so much, and yet so little. I dither, and I flounder.
Short of bellowing from the rooftops, I have no way of forcing the Exodus. And if I were to try, and I know I will be derided a lunatic; and worse, Sakura will become aware of my feeble efforts.
The wind continues to pick up, and I find it bracing. Yet I know what it means. I know part of her plan now. My research had proved deeply fruitful. She is to perform the Rites. An ancient ceremony, which began with the death of her unholy lover. The only thing I don't know is why.
There are two parts to the Rites of ancient magic. She requires several sources of great power, with which she can summon a storm of apocalyptic proportions. Some sort of Hurricane or Typhoon. This will escalate the already critical Mako unto bursting point.
Yet there is still a second stage of Rites to come, even after that. Will Midgar still be standing? Or even be able to face what she will unleash after that?
There are several chain reactions still to come. But what good is all this power for? For what purpose is she to use it? It is too much for a simple summon. Does she crave the destruction of Midgar? The city that claimed her lover? Is simple anarchy enough of a reason for genocide?
Wait a moment…
Her lover. Her now dead lover…summon. Summon, summon…summon?
No. Surely not. Surely it is impossible…
She means to bring him back. Perhaps to also resurrect an army of the dead. And in order for that, she will kill millions. That may even help her goal.
Yet, with the worlds only superpower obliterated, and an invincible army at her disposal.
She is going to resurrect her dead love, and try to take over the damn Planet.
It's the only explanation possible. The only reason she would be doing all this. Yet, I must be sure. I must bury myself in more research, and see how she can be stopped.
She is too powerful now. I don't stand a chance. She is a force majeure, so I in turn, must endeavour to match her.
And then I will slaughter her.
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