Bahamut didn't waste a second once he arrived this time. As he expected, he didn't return to a vague conception of reality, but arrived here…in the room with the stained glass floor. He barely noticed that the floor's design had changed now. There were new faces around it…some of which Bahamut hadn't seen before. But none of them were his intention. He cared only about the ever-relaxed youth which he began to approach the moment he arrived.
The mysterious boy was once again standing with legs crossed and hands behind his head. He turned his neck slightly to Bahamut as he answered. "So…back yet again? This might be beco-"
The boy couldn't get out another word.
His jaw was slammed shut by Bahamut's fist as he decked him.
Bahamut's fists had enough power in them, even as Neo Bahamut in human form, to uproot buildings and break off islands into the sea. As it was, the blow he struck the youth with sent him flying off of his feet and to the stained glass ground. However, he only slid a little after that, stopping well before there was a chance for him to slide off the edge. Once there, he slowly leaned back up again. He showed no anger on his face, and he didn't groan or grunt. But he did take one of his yellow gloves and wiped his mouth, as if to check for blood.
"So…this is what people on your plane of existence call pain?" He remarked aloud. "Interesting feeling the first time, but I can see how you'd grow to hate it…"
Again, the boy was cut off as Bahamut was on him again. He seized him by the lapels of his red jacket and dragged him off the ground. With his force, it was no trouble to yank him off of his feet. Yet at the moment, Bahamut wished he could smash him into something…or revert into his reptilian form and perhaps bite off a few limbs…
"You lied to me!" Bahamut spat in his face. "You led me to think that bringing her back was the only way to stop this!"
The boy merely stared back, a defiant expression on his face. "You let yourself be led on." He simply answered. "You wanted a way to stop the eruption. I showed you."
"I didn't have to risk that future you showed me!" Bahamut snapped back, bellowing in his face. "I could have saved the world from self-destruction without her! You never told me that-"
"Oh no, Bahamut." The boy suddenly cut off with surprising force. The sudden edge and volume that he had on his voice actually made the esper pause. The form in his hands suddenly seemed far stronger and more empowered. "You didn't just want that. You wanted to have your cake and eat it too. You wanted a way to stop that eruption from happening all together. I showed you the only way you could. He couldn't have stopped it. He's unnatural. The Planet is still getting used to him. And who knows? It might have been too late by the time he finally could do it. Too late to stop the New Shinra from overriding whatever he would do to stop it."
Bahamut continued to sneer, and held this boy or devil up. However, the boy simply stared back, knowing that what he said was true. Bahamut didn't just want to save the world. He wanted to spare Ragnar the difficulty that would arise from evacuating. However, he was getting tired of this. He kept on doing something that he felt was wrong every time he came here. And now that this was done…who was this person who could appear? Who was this evil?
In the end, he finally put the boy down and released him. The boy, on his part, began to smooth out his clothing soon after and straighten up. But Bahamut wasn't finished here.
"No more partial futures. No more unseen safeguards." He flatly said. "I want to see everything. Past, present, and future about Ragnar and Aerith. I want to see exactly what could arrive, and I want to see what I've done. I want to know everything about the two of them and those around them."
The boy finished dusting himself off, and then hesitated. He raised an eyebrow to the beast.
"I warned you before, Bahamut. Just merely knowing the truth…"
"I don't care!" Bahamut snapped back. "Knowing everything has to be better than knowing only a little!"
"You should also know that my realm is the future alone." The boy continued.
"Then you can help me wire into the Planet while I'm here, and I'll get everything else I need to know from talking with it." Bahamut answered. He was calming down a little, but it was only because he was getting eager to get underway.
"This isn't going to be a few second deal, either." The boy added. "To know this much information will take much longer…weeks for certain…but more than likely months, depending on just how much you want to know."
"Then let's get started right now." Bahamut responded. "I'm not leaving here until all my questions are answered."
Denzel frowned and looked out the window of Tifa's restaurant. This wasn't the better view. It was a look into the back alley, where the only things of interest were the surrounding buildings, the trash cans in the street, and a few rays of the now setting sun. He hated the evening. It was so boring. The sun was setting now, and Tifa had made him come in. She didn't like him or Marlene to be out after dark. Sometimes they were able to get away with it, but not today. Tifa was acting worried again because of what had happened yesterday. Cloud had run off again.
Denzel wasn't worried. Cloud always came back. He wasn't even worried after that last time he left. He knew he'd come back. He couldn't see why Tifa was worried, or why she was so uncomfortable since yesterday morning. Still…he wished that this war wasn't going on. He used to have a lot more time to hang around Cloud, and he had a way of making these times he was stuck inside pass by more quickly. Normally, he would have hung out with Marlene…but he was reaching that age in which he didn't readily mix with girls. He was more interested in action figures and toy weapons, and she was more interested in dolls and pretending to play house. That left him trying to find something to do on his own, but he was too bored to play by himself. And so, here he was, looking out the window.
Something suddenly rippled by. Denzel felt it. He was leaning against the windowsill with his head propped up on his folded arms. So when he felt it travel through the house, he felt it throughout himself as well. Immediately, he snapped up and looked around in puzzlement. However, as quickly as it had come, it was gone. He sensed nothing now. Normally, he would have stopped a moment longer and then dismissed it as his imagination…but he couldn't. The glasses he had in his room had shook and made a ringing noise, and even now his model airship was swaying slightly on the strings he used to hang it from the ceiling. Some vibration had gone through the whole house.
Denzel looked a moment longer, but then decided to check and see if anyone else had noticed it. He turned back to the window and dipped his head outside of it this time, looking at the back alley to see if anyone else was around.
It was then that he spotted him.
Denzel nearly leapt back in surprise. The boy hadn't heard anyone here before, or seen them…yet in that small space of time someone had come into the alley. Judging by their slow movements, one would think it would have taken a while. But whatever the cause, there was one now.
It was a small little body, and it moved about meekly among the trash. It warily looked around, seeming to be fearful. It was dressed in old, stained, ripped clothing too big for it, obviously pilfered. An oversized hood concealed most of the face. And right now…it was looking over the trash of the Seventh Heaven. With nervous movements, it began to reach for the lid and remove it, obviously looking for something to eat.
Denzel stared at this person a moment longer. He wasn't sure what to do. However, he remembered what Tifa normally did. If there was a hungry man outside, she would make them something to eat rather than let them eat out of the garbage and risk getting sick. But Tifa wasn't here. She was visiting Barret with Marlene. He was the only one there, and the most he could do was nuke himself a hot dog or a toasted cheese sandwich. Still…Denzel remember when he was a lot younger, how he had been forced to eat out of garbage cans himself to survive. He remembered how good it felt when Tifa and Cloud took him in and were nice to him, the first adults he had ever met that didn't try to chase him off or interrogate him to send him to the police or an orphan asylum. He had to do something.
In the end, the boy turned and ran out of his room. He quickly rushed downstairs soon afterward, and once there he ran to the kitchen. He went through that to the back door. It was heavily locked, and when they first moved here he wasn't strong enough to undo it. But now he was nearly eight, and it didn't prove to be much of a problem to move out the pins and the deadbolt. Once that was done, he quickly pulled the door open and ran outside, into the alley.
Immediately, Denzel wheeled around to where the person had been rooting, and sure enough he was still there and crouched over the garbage.
"Hey!"
The form in the clothes immediately went rigid. It wheeled around to Denzel, saw him underneath its hood, and then turned and tried to break for it. It didn't get far. Panicked, it had run right into the very garbage can it was eating out of. It tripped and fell on it, letting out a cry of pain as it fell to the ground. After that, it attempted to scramble away as best as it could. But it couldn't go far that way either. Denzel stood between it and the opening of the alley. It crouched and ran over to one of the corners in the alley and, on seeing itself trapped, wheeled around like a frightened animal and began to breathe hard
Denzel advanced slightly toward the figure, but then stopped. He saw he was scaring it too much. However, there was something else. Now, in its position, part of the oversized hood on its jacket had pulled back, revealing a mouth below of a person. Judging by the shape, Denzel immediately saw that it wasn't a man at all. It was another kid, about his age.
Denzel tried to muster the most reassuring voice he could, trying to remember what Tifa had said to him when he had been in this kid's position, nearly feral and shrinking in fear from everything. "Hey…don't be scared. I'm not going to hurt you."
The kid continued to panic for a moment. Denzel, attempting to look friendly, gave a smile to the person. He held his arms open wide, so that it could see that he had nothing on him. The kid looked around a bit a moment longer, as if fearing that someone else would show up. It swallowed after a moment, but managed to calm down a little. Nervously, it inched its head forward.
"You…you're not with…Dr. Hoeng…are you?" The kid asked. The voice was laced with fear and anxiety…but it was also male. It was a boy like Denzel.
Denzel immediately lowered his arms and shook his head. "Uh-uh. I never even heard of any doctor named Hoeng. I'm Denzel. What's your name?"
The figure began to calm down now. He seemed to trust him a bit more, at least his friendly face and gestures. However, on hearing this question, he paused. In the end, he hopelessly bowed his head.
"…I don't think I have a name…"
Denzel looked a bit downcast at that. He knew lots of kids in the neighborhood who had long since made up names for themselves. Some were nicknames, but some were because no one had ever given them one. He looked at him unhappily a moment, but then finally spoke.
"…Where are your parents?"
"They're dead." The kid answered immediately.
The boy frowned again. "So…you're an orphan like me?"
On hearing that, however, the kid's head raised and looked up to him. He could see his lower face again, and it looked confused. "…Orphan?" He asked. "But…how can you be an orphan? You've got a house, and you live with adults…"
Denzel gave a shrug. "Yeah, but they're not my parents. I don't know where they are, or if they're dead or alive." At this point, the boy was growing a bit tired of these depressing subjects. He winced uneasily for a moment, but then tried to brighten up again. He changed the subject to the matter at hand. "Hey…you look hungry."
The kid looked up again at that, distracted from his thoughts. However, after that, he lowered his hands back toward his stomach. "…I am." He said after a pause.
"When did you eat last?"
"…Four days ago."
Denzel was shocked. Being young and inexperienced, he didn't think it was possible for a kid to live that long without eating. He himself always managed to get something every day. Perhaps this one didn't take to eating out of garbage until now. However, the boy kept up his friendly appearance, and gestured into the house.
"Do you want a toasted cheese sandwich? I'll make one for you."
The kid seemed confused by this, and looked more curiously at Denzel. "You…you'll let me…into your house?"
"Sure, if you're hungry." Denzel answered. "Tifa won't mind. Especially since you're another kid like me."
"…Like…you…?" The kid echoed. This point seemed to strike him as something new…something he hadn't considered. However…after a moment, Denzel noticed a change on him. As he thought about this, he began to see his own sad look fade a bit. The beginnings of a smile of his own began to form in their place. "Yeah…like you." He echoed back. After that, his attention was turned to Denzel fully. "I am like you, aren't I?"
Denzel was a bit confused at this response, but he managed to give a nod. "Um…yeah. Well, are you going to come in or stay outside?"
A bit more confident now, the kid managed to stand up again. This time, he didn't cringe, but slowly and meekly rose to his full height. Denzel was justly amazed. The kid couldn't have been much older than him, but he stood a good six inches taller. And he seemed to fill out the area beneath his old clothing rather well. Feeling a bit more confident, the kid reached to his head and grasped the edge of his hood. After doing so, he pulled it back, and revealed his face at last.
For a brief moment…some vague memory inside Denzel sparked on seeing his face, and warned him of danger. But he couldn't really remember the people who shared the appearance of the boy he now stood before, and so it passed.
The boy had neck length silver hair cropping his head, and his eyes blazed a sea green, the likes of which Denzel had never seen before. Yet he turned to the boy none the less and smiled uneasily. Denzel recovered soon after that, and gestured him inside. Soon, both Denzel and his newfound friend had passed out of the alley and into the house, and closed the door behind them, leaving the knocked over can for the rats.
The last thing Aerith could think of was that she had been poisoned, and that she had come back to life only to die again just as quickly. However, it was a rather loud noise drumming against her head that forced her to awaken again at this point. Slowly, she swam back out of the lesser darkness of unconsciousness. Her hearing began to grow sharper, and as it did she opened her eyes and blinked them a few times. Her vision was fuzzy, but it was clearing rapidly. Nevertheless, she could see little. Most of her area was still dark… The drumming sound grew louder, sharper… And yet, over it all, she heard a distinctive female voice calling her out of the last bits of unconsciousness…
"I asked you are you awake?"
Aerith immediately snapped up. Her memory came back to her again. And now, her memories were no longer distant, incoherent things. They were far more clear. She was aboard Cid's airship, and they had been ambushed by the Turks. They disabled Cloud and Ragnar and came for her. But then…she did something to Reno…and one of them, the one named Krystea, turned on her own and knocked them out. She was going to get Aerith next…but she was fighting…protesting…because she knew they were going to blow up the ship…
Cloud…!
Aerith whirled around, and found herself, of all places, seated next to Krystea. She also recognized her surroundings. It was the unmistakable appearance of a Shinra helicopter. She had ridden in one before adjacent to Tseng. However, unlike that time, Krystea did not have a gun pulled on her. Her own massive silver weapon had been returned to her coat. As a matter of fact, the Turk only seemed to care that Aerith was up. Once she was, she turned fully back to her controls. Outside, the sky had turned dark. Aerith could detect some light shining from the ground, but it was night by now.
The Cetra looked around a moment, but then back to the Turk. "Where are we?"
"Someplace I'd rather not be right now, but the nearest non-New Shinra land I could fly this thing to before we ran out of fuel." Krystea answered, keeping most of her senses on the chopper. "I tried to fly us past Midgar, but I don't have time. The best I can do is get us over one of the lesser used portions of the city and hope that it's not under Planet Protector Army control."
Planet Protector Army… Aerith thought. She remembered that name. That was what Ragnar said he had formed. At the thought of that…she once again snapped back to the more urgent matter.
"Cloud! Ragnar! Where are they?"
"They might be dead by now." Krystea answered.
Aerith's eyes widened at that. "The bomb…"
"No, not the bomb." Krystea cut off. "I made sure to shoot the others with tranquilizer that only kept them out for five minutes. When they woke up, they'd have no choice but to diffuse the bomb or go down with the ship. But I gave my other two targets the full eight hour dosage. It would make sense for the others to finish them."
Aerith gaped at this. They were both unconscious. If what she said was right…if they had been killed…
Suddenly, the woman's face turned to anger. It wasn't as potent as it was before. No…at that time, some sort of unlocked rage had come out. And this was enough to make her far more angry.
And yet…confronted with this woman…she almost felt something "short-circuiting" her anger before it reached that point...
But still, she was enraged. Despite being weak, she suddenly lunged at Krystea and began to hit her as hard as she could.
Krystea was shocked by this sudden reaction, and as a result was shifted to one side. She managed to keep her grip on the helicopter controls, but she still tilted it somewhat to the left. On doing so, and realizing what this woman's ineffective assault was doing, she reacted instinctively. She balled her hand into a fist, pulled it off of the controls, and gave Aerith a punch in the face. The result flung the weak woman off of her, and nearly smashed her head into the glass. It also left a rather large bruise on her brow. Aerith, dazzled, slumped in her seat and moved sluggishly a moment. Krystea, on her part, pulled herself back in the seat. She cast a regretful look to Aerith, but then looked back ahead. However, unknown to Aerith, the woman realized she had just done something to ruin whatever rapport they had with each other. As a result, she quickly calmed, and spoke again.
"Look…I said they 'might' be dead, and that it only made sense to finish them…" Krystea answered. "There's a good chance they're keeping them prisoner to attract you instead now. You're the primary target. But I couldn't keep you there. I had to get you out. They would have either killed you, or they would have taken you back to New Shinra scientists, and then you would have wished you were dead before they finished with you."
Aerith breathed a few times, trying to steady herself. Pain still radiated through her skull. However, as she relaxed a bit, she received a new idea. She had forgotten…she could talk to the Lifestream. As she calmed down, she closed her eyes for a moment. She took in a few deep breaths to relax herself, and then focused for the voice of the Planet. Soon, she began to hear it. She found it hard to suppress a smile. That warm, familiar voice always brought her comfort, no matter how scared or in danger. However, she had something else to find while here. She quickly asked a question of it, and immediately she received a reply. On doing so, she opened her eyes and did smile, sighing in relief. Krystea's suspicions had to be right. Neither Cloud nor Ragnar had returned to the Lifestream. And if they were conscious now, like she was, then she knew they could take care of themselves.
Aerith's anger began to fade at this point. And as it did, she concentrated more on her own fortune, and the situation at hand. It didn't take her long to remember what a strange situation this was. In the end, she turned back to Krystea. "…Who are you?"
"I'm a Turk." She answered, still focusing ahead. "That's all you need to know for now."
"If you're a Turk…then why didn't you let them take me?" Aerith asked.
"I might yet."
"What do you want with me?"
"I want to talk, but right now we're still on the run." Krystea answered in a dismissive tone, indicating that she wanted to concentrate on her flying more than anything. "I can't get any more out of this helicopter. I need to try and land it in the biggest space I can find right now, or the only way to get out of it is going to be for us to jump out. If I would have landed up north, everyone on the continent would have been looking for you. But now that I'm further south, everyone is going to be looking for me. And don't think that I managed to lose the other Turks that great of a distance. We only bought ourselves enough time for them to wake up and get command of the Sierra. The second we land, we're running for the hill country."
Aerith's face turned defiant at that. "Why should I come with you?"
"If you don't want to die, you will." Krystea answered. "New Shinra is going to have more people on this continent than Turks…"
This side of town was nearly abandoned. It had been filled with Planet Protector Army personnel earlier, but now as the night came on it found itself almost empty. This was the zone near to the Baptismal Church…and near to the seismic activity that was rapidly growing. The rest of the city was flooded with police and army members alike, trying to move the people out as fast as they could. Every tremor that passed through the town made the people that much more frightened, and caused a chorus of screams and chaos to ring through the night. But here, a mile away from the nearest refugee unit that had been erected to help evacuate Midgar, things were quiet. They were normally quiet anyway. After all, this was part of the destroyed portion of town. In the pale moonlight, the skeletons of old skyscrapers cast their great lengths around, turning this abandoned section of the city into a concrete jungle. The streets were old, torn, and cracked, and were void of citizens, homeless, and gangs alike in the wake of the coming disaster. The only sound was the wind occasionally catching a can or paper and blowing it across the ground.
Despite his steel toed boots, the solitary resident of the streets was able to walk on the concrete silently as he wandered through this abandoned area of the town on a brief reprieve.
It appeared it was once again time for the man named Vincent Valentine to enter the "world of the living".
He didn't think of himself as a very altruistic man, nor as one who seemed to care about other people's affairs that much. He had kept to himself for quite some time. In fact, that was why he found himself roaming this ruin now after his earlier search had proven fruitless. He hadn't exposed himself to the others yet, but he had been unable to locate Cloud or the general of this army. He couldn't figure out where they were either, and it was soon impossible to find out. There was a disaster coming to Midgar soon, to be piled on the already towering mountain of misfortune to befall the people. This time…it looked like it would take the eyesore of a city away from the face of the earth. Of course, to make sure that they wouldn't go with it, the people were scrambling to evacuate everyone, including the homeless and urchins that filled the streets and alleys. It was a tremendous undertaking, and it had created lots of noisy crowds of people. Vincent didn't care much for that, and so he had withdrawn here…once more becoming like a ghost among the dead town.
At any rate, this testified to his general nature. Usually, he didn't care what happened to other people, or what went on in the world. It didn't matter to him. None of it would improve or worsen his fortunes. That was why he had been perfectly content spending thirty years of his mutated life locked in a coffin, not caring whether or not he got out again. It wouldn't absolve him of his sin, and it wouldn't give him back the emotions he slaughtered to keep the pain from killing him, only to end up a virtual immortal.
And yet…that had changed ever since not he, but another, awoke him from his "eternal" slumber.
Originally, he had joined purely as a cause of vendetta. He wanted to see Hojo die at the hands of one of his own "abominations". He never expected the life-changing, world-shaking quest he found himself on soon afterward. He also didn't expect that he would see Lucrecia again…yet another victim of the madman's twisted acts. He thought things would be over with Hojo's death…and yet, in the end, despite having fulfilled his wishes…he found himself coming back after Cloud's twenty-four hours were up. For a man as emotionless as he was…a man who cared so little for anything…in the end, he found himself fighting so that the world could live on. A world he was no longer a part of and one he shunned…and yet he desired it to survive in the end.
He might have said that the reason he did this was to destroy the monster that Hojo had brought into being, and who had caused Lucrecia so much suffering. However, that reasoning fell through two years later, when he found himself saving Cloud from certain death. Not only him…but also the girl, Marlene. And after that, how he returned to Edge to do battle with the monster known as Bahamut Sin… Lastly…there was the feeling…a feeling. He thought he had been beyond all feeling. And yet…when he saw that girl unafraid of him…fooling with his blood red cape that was not red from dye alone…willingly running up to him for protection…he felt a bit of loosening inside of him… Something about him that had been changing changed even more at that time.
And now, he was here…trying to enlist. Not only that, but he was waiting. There was a time where if he hadn't been able to get an audience with the general right away, he would just have left and ignored it. But not now. He realized that he had to have a true desire to join this army. But as to why…he had no idea.
Vincent had no friends, so Cloud and his companions weren't a factor. True, they might think of themselves as his friends, but in all honesty he didn't see it the same way. Partners, perhaps…but not friends. There were far too few things he was willing to share with them. Redemption wasn't that either. He was a man who believed in karma…pain in exchange for pain. He didn't think he could buy his way out of past sins and indifference by caring now. Shinra meant nothing to him anymore. His hate for Shinra died with Hojo. It wasn't like they put a gun to his head and forced him to kill in their name.
And so, he was left alone with the one remaining question.
Why was he here?
And despite all the time Vincent had to think in the past, he couldn't answer that question now.
As Vincent brooded, alone in the darkness with his private thoughts, something struck his keen senses to shake him out of them. He immediately tilted his head up to detect a foreign noise. It took him only a moment to recognize it as helicopter blades. However, what he saw was something far more unusual.
Normally, a person would have only heard helicopter blades, and that would have been it. But in his attempt to make his "monster" a more efficient killer, Hojo had given Vincent much keener eyes that could key in on heat. It didn't take long for him to zero in on the source, and see it. Of course, it was a helicopter, and judging by the altitude it was coming in for a landing about a mile north of where he was currently standing. However, it was running with lights off, not giving anyone the chance to see it. And this far away from the city, no one would hear it over the din either.
This, naturally, gave Vincent reason for concern.
He knew full well that the Planet Protector Army didn't have helicopters of its own. Those were still the signature of the Shinra. And running out of town, too far to be picked up by anyone, with no lights…well, it didn't take him that long to put two and two together.
As he turned and began to walk for the site where the helicopter would land, he guessed that he would get to see some action prior to joining the PPA after all…
Zola wondered if anyone else was picking up on this.
After all, he did have heightened senses and heat vision. In the cool spring night, it was easy for him to look outside his prison window and see an object giving off a lot of heat in the air. His sensitive tongue could taste burning chopper fuel on the air even from this far away…especially since this one seemed to be burning its fumes. And seeing as it was running without lights and landing on the bad side of town…he guessed that this wasn't friendly.
Zola wheeled around to try to yell out to the guard…and immediately stopped. No such luck, he thought with a frown. The guard had already turned in for the night, and Zola had been left alone in the prison cell. Not very good if there was an emergency…but then again, he was an immortal basilisk. And if that wasn't enough, this part of town had already evacuated. There was nothing he could do to alert anyone. Still frowning, he turned back and looked out the window again. Maybe someone would come by…on a patrol or something. After all, he was still here. And when he did, he could yell out to them then.
However, on looking out the window, Zola's first thought was to keep quiet.
At first, he spotted just what appeared to be a homeless man. A guy dressed mostly in rags and old clothing was moving down the street, toward the location of where the chopper was landing. But he sooncaught his interest. This man wasn't staggering from drunkedness or making his way haphazardly along. He was keeping to the walls and moving quickly, trying to stay to the shadows. He was staying low and trying todrown his footsteps. Zola hadn't lived through over a thousand years of human warfare to not be able to recognize someone trying to use stealth while getting somewhere.
That wasn't all. His heat vision soon picked up on other signatures, and to his surprise he soon found that no less than a dozen dark shapes were swarming in front of them. They were all dressed like hobos and derelects, but they were all moving with a purpose, staying to the shadows and making their way toward where the helicopter was landing. It was like some guerilla army advancing on a hapless victim. The streets appeared to be coming to life and making their way there. Even more began to pop out from gutters, while others pried open manhole lids and joined them.
Zola could have reasoned that these people were Planet Protector Army operatives, having spotted the aircraft and moving out to ambush them. However, he sincerely doubted it. He didn't have the ability to sense emotions as well as true espers, but he had been around enough to have some good hunches. And one thing supported this… As he tasted the air coming off of these people…he realized it didn't taste all together like trash and human. It tasted…different. Different from anything he had ever smelled before…
That was enough for him.
The basilisk turned and began to look around once more. Those guys were moving to the chopper, but there were no PPA personnel around, and no way to alert them. He didn't know what they were up to, but he didn't like it. Something had to be done…and he realized he was the only one in range who could do anything.
On that note, he sighed.
Sorry, Ragnar. But I'm going to have to break out of prison again.
The electricfied bars would be a problem. After all, they had a great enough charge even to kill him, and that was something. He would have to try and use something to get by them. And he knew just the thing.
Zola's tri-blade had been taken away from him, but that was alright. He had been eating extra minerals for a while now in case this situation would arise. Quickly, he straightened up and cracked his neck a few times. After doing so, he held his neck perfectly straight. He inhaled and exhaled a few times, focusing himself, and preparing for this. Then, clenching his teeth and giving a grunt, he snapped the top of his head down in an arching motion.
The result was shocking. It looked as if Zola had managed to pop off his own head, and exposed the vertebral column it normally rested on. As his head went forward, a pointed bulge protruded from the skin on the back of his neck. Yet Zola kept moving. Giving a bit of a gagging sound, he twisted his head down further, as if forcing it back. And as he did, he forced the bulge up. It soon ripped through his soft flesh, and revealed a green, scale-covered spike. He continued to grunt and twist, getting his shoulder blades into it now, and forcing the spike up. It continued to rip upward as it did so, pushing itself gradually up and out of his back.
Once there was enough of it to put both of his hands on, Zola reached behind him and seized the spike. He held tight, clenched his teeth, and grunted again as he pulled. With a sickening wet ripping sound, the spike was pulled from his back. But it was much longer than it looked. As it was pulled out, it spilt into three prongs soon after, and then continued to come forth much longer than the initial spike. Eventually, Zola was forced to move his hands down and grab it to keep pulling it out. He did this several times before, with one last rip, he pulled out the fatter barbs on the end of the prong, and tossed the weapon away. After doing so, his flesh immediately closed itself up again and healed.
Zola let out a large exhale and snapped his neck again. But then, with a smile, he turned and looked down to his new tri-blade. Zola was quite impossible to disarm, because his blade was made out of a substance tougher than steel folded a thousand times: his own scales and bone. He could make a new blade as soon as he lost his old one. He quickly snatched up his blade and brandished it, turning toward the bars on his window.
With a real sword, this would be impossible. But Zola's scales and bone couldn't conduct electricity nearly as well as metal, and could tolerate the heat from being fried far easier. Pointing his weapon in front of him, Zola drove the blade forward and inserted it between bars of the window. After that, he quickly shoved in one direction, and wedged the blade between two of them.
Zola immediately received a painful shock. To a human, it would have been enough to make their body numb for hours. But for him, it was merely a painful annoyance. Gritting his teeth through the pain, he shoved his sword forward with all his might. For a few moments, the blade burned slightly and he endured the electricity. But in the end, the bars gave first. With a sizzling snap, both were pried out of their moorings and snapped loose, sending one flying out and the other to the ground of the cell. Grinning, Zola shook off the first shock and quickly fit the blade into the next two bars. A minor electrocution later, and they too snapped loose.
Zola quickly tossed the blade out through the window once this was, done, letting it sail through the opening and land on the ground outside. It immediately pierced the concrete and came to a stop, perched upright. After that, the man came forward and prepared to compress his body to move through the small opening he had made. If he got caught here…he'd be fried to death long before anyone heard his screaming and came to turn it off. But he could get out through here. And once he was, he'd be heading down to the chopper himself to get to the bottom of this mess…
"Uh…"
Cloud was still feeling rather groggy and disorientated when he finally managed to come to. As such, he hadn't the foggiest idea what was going on, where he was, or what had happened. Opening his eyes didn't help. He only saw darkness. He tried to stretch out with his senses, figure out what was going on as the cobwebs in his head cleared. But he only sensed more mysteries. His body was twisted in a painful position, and he felt crushed. He thought he felt someone else's flesh near him that wasn't his own, but he couldn't make sense out of that either.
However, Cloud's accelerated healing and sharpened senses quickly cleared things out. He came to much sooner than a regular person, and realized what was wrong. He had been in the middle of fighting Rude and Reno, and looking like he might just triumph over them both…when that fourth Turk shot him. He had stayed conscious long enough to see that she had done it, shooting him with a tranquilizer dart. Of course…now where was he?
Cloud stretched again…only to find that his hands and legs were bound behind him. He grunted. He tried balling his hands into fists and stretching against them, but to no avail. He contracted and snapped them back out several times, but still nothing. The Turks must have been planning on Cloud's above average strength. Yet as he moved around, he started to hear another familiar groaning.
"Kid?" He called out. "Are you in here too?"
Another groan. "…I feel like the bottom of a chocobo's foot…" Yet after a moment, the voice suddenly grew more aware. "Hey, what the… My arms and feet are tied… Wait a minute…where's Aerith?"
"I don't know." Cloud answered. But on hearing that, he immediately felt a wave of fear penetrate him, and once again the old crushing feeling of guilt. However, there was no time for that. Instead, he forced himself to grow angry. He needed to stay mad so that he could keep from sinking in depression, and get out of here and get back to Aerith. "But they better pray that she's alright when I get my hands on them…"
"They used darts…so I don't think they were trying to kill us. And we aren't dead now." Ragnar suggested after a moment. "I think they just wanted us captured. That should mean Aerith is alright too."
Cloud thought about that for a moment. That was true…and somewhat astute of the young man. He only hoped that his theory was right…
"Hey…wait a minute…listen to that."
Cloud hesitated when Ragnar suggested that. After a moment, he did as he was told, and stayed silent and listened. Both of them soon became aware of a noise around them. It was the hum of some sort of machinery. And based on the sound of it…it appeared to be jet engines.
"I think we're still on the Sierra." Ragnar suggested.
Cloud didn't answer. He stretched out as much as he could, and felt around a bit more. He still felt crushed next to Ragnar, but he ignored his protesting for the moment. He had to use his face to feel for the most part, but he managed to get an idea of where they were.
"I think they shoved us into a closet or maintenance cabinet." Cloud remarked.
"We have to try to find a way back out of it again." Ragnar responded. After that, Cloud felt him struggle a bit, and make a few noises. In the end, he groaned. "Dang it… We've been hog-tied. I could have slipped over my arms and got them in front of me if we hadn't."
"Great." Cloud sighed in response. "And we don't have our swords, so we won't be cutting our way out."
"I don't suppose you know how to pick a lock, do you?" Ragnar asked.
"I vaguely recall a special skills course I took back when I worked in the Shinra Inc. Military." Cloud responded. "But we'll still need a pick, which we don't have."
Ragnar paused for a moment on his end, but then suddenly spoke in a brightened tone. "Yes we do!" He suddenly exclaimed.
"What?" Cloud called back. But he received no reply. Ragnar was already going to work. A moment later, he began to feel him brushing up against his back. He did so for a moment until he felt his face move down onto his hands. When it did, Cloud realized he was trying to find where his hands were. After that, Ragnar moved again, and pressed his chest against him. His badges and standards were put into his grip.
"Now grab one."
Cloud immediately understood. His pins. He went to work right away, fumbling for the nearest badge. It took a few moments to get a good backward grip on it, and then to get used to his arms being behind himself and working them in such a way. He struggled quite a bit. But in the end, he managed to work it out and pull it off. The ex-mercenary cracked a grin after that. Quickly, he grabbed the badge with one hand and the pin with the other. With one powerful snap, he separated the two. He then manipulated the pin toward the nearest lock.
"How's it coming?" Ragnar asked.
"It's going to be a pain in the ass." Cloud answered. "I never quite managed to open the lock when I took the course, and I don't remember it that well. Plus I'm working backward. But I'll do it somehow. Just don't talk and give me time to focus."
Krystea was still adjusting to the landing part of flying, especially in a crisis situation where she was nearly out of fuel. She wished she could have gotten farther away from the city, but it was too late for regrets now. She brought down the helicopter against the road, and it gave a mild jolt. Both she and her passenger yelped a bit at the surpising force, but the chopper held afterward. They were down, and they were flat. Exhaling a sigh of relief, Krystea leaned back and removed her headset.
After pausing a moment to collect herself, she quickly leaned back forward and deactivated the motor. It was nearly out anyway, and would have fizzled to a halt within the next five minutes. Yet as the chopper blades were still slowing down, she finished turning off the power to the console, opened the door on her side, and then hopped out. She quickly rushed to the opposing side of the craft. She thought of pulling Valentine out, but she decided against it. After all, if that attack had been the best she could have done, then she had nothing to fear.
Once on Aerith's side, Krystea yanked open the door. The passenger leapt a bit in surprise, but soon turned her full nervous attention to the Turk.
"Out." She ordered.
Aerith swallowed a moment, but then did as she said. The incident earlier had proven to her that she wasn't a physical match for this person, and until she could recall how she had done that move with Reno, she was all but defenseless. Tightening her fists and focusing her strength as much as she could, Aerith slowly began to slide her feet over and around the chair. She managed to do so after about ten seconds. Afterward…she grit her teeth, and slowly began to extend one of her legs down to the ground. She could barely hold herself up while she did it.
Krystea sighed in impatience. "Come on, come on. Pick up the pace. We need to move."
"I can't." Aerith responded through clenched teeth as she eased one foot to the ground. "My strength is drained… I don't even think I can manage a slow walk."
The woman rolled her eyes and sighed. Normally, she might have let emotions get the better of her. But she supposed if that weak assault she received five minutes ago was any indication, then Aerith must have been pretty drained, like she said. But she couldn't afford to wait for her to recover. They needed to move now without delay. And so, she held a bit longer, but then finally spun around and aimed her back at Aerith. She moved up to her soon after…and hoped that she wasn't being suckered in to a big mistake. From this position, she could easily choke her or attack her.
"Get on my back then." She instructed. "We need to get out of here fast."
Aerith looked up to her a moment, and then hesitated. But in the end, she didn't want to make this woman angry. She was more than capable of killing her. Somewhat reluctantly, she reached out and placed her arms around her neck. As she grasped and held, she could only manage a rather weak grip. But Krystea didn't seem to mind. She put her own arms behind her, grabbed under Aerith's legs, and pulled her up the rest of the way. Once that was done, she turned and began to jog at a surprisingly fast speed, considering her burden.
It took no time at all for the two to put a block between them and the helicopter. Krystea heard no pursuing sounds, which was a good sign. She thought of blowing up the helicopter to ensure that if the other Turks had somehow found a way to track her that they would be thrown off, but in the end that would send out a fireball that every member of the PPA could see. As she passed a second block, she thought she felt something. It seemed as if the ground was rippling beneath her feet. It seemed she was right, because she soon heard loose bits of pebbles and other trash around her shake and rattle a bit as well. That was odd. There was no record of Midgar being a geothermic hot spot. It was probably a freak phenomenon from further south.
Krystea kept jogging for as far as she could go. She knew that it wouldn't take any time at all to explore a two block radius, so she pushed it first to four and then to eight. Doing so required a lot of time and energy on her part. One would think that sitting in a chair and piloting wasn't exhausting, but the truth of the matter was that it did tax you in mental ways if not physical ones. And she was getting her share of physical activity now too. She hadn't slept since yesterday morning, and that wasn't helping.
At last, she was growing too tired to continue. She had to take a breather. Panting from the exertion, she slowly trotted to a halt. She turned her head around for a few moments, inspecting her surroundings. There wasn't much here. She couldn't even see any homeless. She listened as best as she could for noise, but that was impossible. She was breathing too hard, and her heart was pounding too much. At any rate, it was as safe as it could be.
Krystea turned to one of the nearby buildings. All of them were abandoned and boarded up, for this neighborhood was one of several that had been wrecked by Meteor, and perhaps forever would be left to rot. This one was fairly complete, though, and had probably been evacuated not from damage but from lack of undamaged surroundings. She quickly ran up to the front door. It had been broken off at some point, but the last owner had taken some time to board it up before leaving. After four years, the wood was getting a bit old. That was fine for Krystea. She reared back and kicked out with a foot while still holding on to Aerith, and in no time at all smashed the boards guarding the opening. Afterward, she quickly entered.
Aerith had no idea if Krystea had wanted this place in particular, or if this was just any old shelter they could use to hide. At least inside wasn't bad. It was pretty bare, other than a few rotten boxes and old papers that had been blown in. Not enough for a series of rat nests. Most of the floor was bare concrete and cobwebs. It was amazing. Aerith still had trouble believing this was really Midgar. She had seen her share of dirty, polluted slums in her time…but those were just that, slums. These buildings were from the upper plate, and had crashed down into the dark world below. Except it wasn't dark anymore. She could actually see the stars clearly over Midgar for the first time she could remember. That was a bit moot at the moment, however, now that they were shoved into a building.
Krystea let Aerith down somewhat gently to sit against the wall. After that, still trying to catch her breath, she turned around and plopped down next to her. She took the back of her hand and wiped her brow as she did so, trying to compose herself. For a moment, the two were silent, left alone in the darkness to recover.
The Turk was the one who broke it. "We can hold out here long enough for me to compose myself." She said. "But neither of us are sleeping yet. We've got a long way to go before we can afford that luxury."
Aerith said nothing in reply to this. She only took a moment to turn and face Krystea, before she announced something else.
"Alright…we're far enough away to stop for a moment. About my earlier question…why are you helping me?"
Krystea panted a bit longer, and turned back to the woman. Both of them paused at that. Once more, how similar they looked to one another struck them and unnerved them. However, between the two, only one had a decent theory as to why that was so. Krystea inhaled one last time deeply, in an attempt to focus herself and stop her panting. Once she did, she leaned back a bit more. She seemed to be relaxing herself. Her eyes stayed focused on Aerith. But as they did, she grew a bit softer in appearance. A bit more of her business-like and hard exterior cracked…revealing a somewhat gentler woman inside. When she finally spoke, it wasn't something that Aerith expected.
"…Who were your parents?"
The Cetra's look turned to puzzlement. What did that have to do with anything? Didn't she already know, anyway? Her file was in Shinra's database. And why should she care? Despite hating to have her question answered with another question, she answered.
"My mother…was Ilfano of the Cetra. I don't know who my father was. I can't remember him at all. My mother gave me the impression that he was someone who worked for Shinra, Inc…but I can't remember that much either."
On saying this simply reply, Aerith noticed that Krystea reacted considerably. She straightened up and stared in almost anxiety at the woman.
"…You're not lying, are you?" She asked.
That reply was not only unexpected, but uncalled for. "Of course I'm not lying!" She shot back with surprising force. "I watched my mother die before my eyes! I've been hunted all my life ever since because of who she was and what she gave me!"
"Are you absolutely, positively sure?"
Aerith was starting to get angry at this. The fact that she was a hundred percent sure was irrelevant. She talked to her mother frequently in the Lifestream ages ago. She didn't anymore, because she had fully passed on. This woman looked like she was either trying to call her a liar or saying that her parentage was a lie. That made her furious. She didn't care that Krystea looked anxious as she said these things.
In truth, Krystea wasn't trying to unnerve Aerith for her sake.
She just wanted to make sure it was true for her own.
"Does this have a point? Because if it doesn't, I'd rather be left alone." Aerith responded.
Krystea withdrew a bit at that, fearing that she had pushed too hard. It was just something she had a hard time believing in. But she realized now, at the very least, that it had to be. She wouldn't have reacted like this if it hadn't. And if it was… That thought made her almost too anxious. She had to know more, however, before she said anything else. She contained her emotion, but soon was softening again. She asked in an even milder voice than before.
"…What was…Ilfano…like?"
Again, Aerith found herself puzzled by another strange question. This one caught her off guard, disrupting her anger, especially in the way it was said. She held back a moment, but after calming she gave a shrug.
"…I'm afraid I can't remember too much of her. I remember her being very gentle and kind… I remember how I used to feel totally safe in her arms. I'm not sure if Cetra share a link with one another or not, but she made me feel…whole. It was a way I didn't feel for quite a while after, especiallybefore my ability to talk to the Planet matured. She was chased most of her life. The Shinra were always at our heels, always trying to capture or kill us. I spent the first three or four years of my life growing up on the run. Things were so chaotic I couldn't remember them. It wasn't until a local woman from Sector Five, Elmyra Gainsbourough, found my crying over the body of my mother, that I really have good memories. My mother finally succumbed from malnutrition, sickness, and injuries that she kept getting from stray bullets. Elmyra took me in…raised me as her own daughter. Yet I always seemed to know she wasn't my real mother, and I never felt comfortable calling her that, even when I managed to." The Cetra paused after this, and then focused more on Krystea. "…Why do you ask?"
Krystea's head bowed slightly. She stared off into space. As Aerith watched her…a memory began to come into Krystea's heart…or rather, a lack of them. A lack of happy ones. A lack of ones involving a traditional family…but one of pain and fear. It further eroded her cool exterior…exposing the tender, vulnerable person underneath.
"…I can't remember my mother…" Krystea slowly responded.
Aerith hesitated at that. Where a moment ago she was angry with this woman…she now felt her normal tender and caring spirit beginning to feel pity for her. She suddenly looked smaller and meeker, and much more in pain than she had shown before. She drew back a bit, and after a moment would have tried to reach out and find what was wrong. But before she could, Krystea looked back up again. Her emotions were still grim and somber, but she continued.
"…Aerith…" She slowly, uneasily spoke. She was scared of saying this, but she had no other choice. "When…your mother…was on the run…was it just you two?"
Aerith once again was confused by such a question. "I…I don't understand…"
"There wasn't…anyone else…was there?"
Aerith hesitated a moment, but then started to shake her head. "I…I don't think so. But all I can remember before mom died was emotions. Vague snapshots. It was a long time ago…and it was something I wasn't wanting to remember."
"D-Did…Professor Gast…have any other children…with Ilfano?"
Krystea realized her mistake too late. She recoiled a bit, but Aerith had already picked up on it. Her face turned to confusion.
"What do you mean Professor Gast? He's the one who found Jenova, who started the research on the Cetra."
Krystea tried to stay silent, but she realized it was too late. In the end, she sighed and bowed her head slightly. "…He was also your father, Aerith."
The Cetra went silent. Her eyes widened, but she said nothing for a moment.
"…How do you know?"
"Old files in Icicle Inn that the New Shinra confiscated when they arrived." Krystea replied, a bit quietly. "Apparently, Ilfano used to live there. She must have moved there from the City of the Ancients. Professor Gast had been interviewing her about the Cetra, Jenova, and the WEAPONs. It also has…'family' records, which show Ilfano having a child and naming her Aerith. It has to be you…and by the context Gast has to have been the father."
Krystea hesitated at this. Aerith was still staring blankly out, and her mouth was hanging open slightly. The woman could reason why. After all, Gast was the one who dug up Jenova, created the SOLDIERs, built the first mako reactor, and let to the birth of Sephiroth. In many ways, he had been the proverbial Pandora who had opened a box of nightmares that had nearly destroyed all life on Gaia. To find out such a man, known by some to be a mad scientist or monster, was her own father…
Krystea grew anxious at Aerith's reaction, and spoke up again.
"I watched his records myself, Aerith. In the end…he seemed to realize what he had done. I don't think he ever intended to hurt people. After Ilfano told him about Jenova's true nature, and what WEAPON could do to the world, I think he would have tried to stop it. But one of the videos shows Professor Hojo bursting in, ruining most of the data, and killing him before he could do anything to stop what he had started. He died trying to save you and your mother."
Aerith didn't answer that. Her mouth closed again, but she continued to stare out into space. Krystea waited. She had to accept this if they were going to move on. In the end, Aerith sighed.
"…Maybe you're right." She finally said. "My mother was a Cetra…knew what the Shinra were doing. She wouldn't have even bothered telling him anything if he hadn't proven to her that he was a good man. And it would explain how Tseng knew I had the power to talk to the Planet before I even knew it…"
The two women went silent again. They held for a moment, as Aerith slowly tried to adjust to this new revelation. Krystea began to anxiously look on. She knew, in a few moments, Aerith would have another revelation to adjust to, and this one would be far more present and shocking. She finally began to reach into her suitcoat.
"I keep this on me at all times, Aerith, so that when I see a clue related to it I can jump on it." She spoke as she grabbed something and pulled it out. The Cetra turned to her as she did so, and saw that she had a folded-up piece of paper in her hands. After taking it out, she focused harder on Aerith.
"My full name is Krystea Anne Valentine."
Aerith blinked at that, as the realization and connection came into her mind. "You mean…as in related to Vincent Valentine?"
Krystea gave a nod.
"However…" She continued. "Last year, I found something out. I always wondered why I looked so different from the rest of the family…" She hesitated here, and as Aerith watched, an anger seemed to flame into her eyes…an anger that burned brightly so as to drive off and smother all fears…and one in particular. "And why my so-called 'father' didn't restrain his perverted lust around me when I was just a child of ten…"
Aerith stiffened at that. How horrible. A bit more of her pity was aroused for this woman. No one deserved that abomination…certainly not when so young.
However, Krystea recovered soon after, and managed to continue in the same manner as before. "I was hacking into a file, trying to see if the New Shinra had hidden any data about Tseng. While I was there, I found part of a corrupted old file that had been deleted, but not recycled. I was immediately attracted to it…because the file name was my name. When I finally managed to hack my way in, everything was in a mostly fragmented code. Deciphering it only brought up a few clues as to my background…but they showed me that who I grew up with wasn't my true family."
Here, Krystea unfolded the paper in her hands. She held it out to Aerith. "This is a copy of what I managed to decode and translate. Like I said, I need it so I can jump on a clue when I find it. And when I opened your file…I saw the first thing ever that I could jump on."
Aerith hesitated a moment, but then took the paper from the woman. She held it out before her, and soon ran her eyes over it. There wasn't much. It looked like some sort of file form, but much of it was blotched out, obviously covered up when it was shown that it couldn't be decoded. And yet, there were a few items on the list that could be read. She scanned these…
…And was shocked at what it said.
NAME: Krystea Anne Valentine
HEIGHT: 5'9"
WEI-
AGE: 2-
BIRTHPL-
NEXT OF KIN: Ilfano (Last name unknown), Mother; Professor Sedge Gast, Father; Aer-
Aerith couldn't believe it. That couldn't be possible. It had to be some sort of error. And yet…what could she say to deny it? She couldn't tell if Krystea was younger or older than her. And in either case…she didn't even remember her father. But her mother, Ilfano…she couldn't have had another child…
Could she?
She was already born… It was theorhetically possible for her to be carrying a child when she left… But she knew that Ilfano would sooner die than abandon her own offspring…as she did. And yet…the Shinra only knew about her. And she couldn't care for one toddler and an infant on the run… If there was a way to get her to an orphanage…they'd be apart, but she'd be safe. But still…wouldn't she know about her heritage? Wouldn't she have the ability to talk to the Planet? Unless…Aerith had lucked out, and her half-human side had not hindered her power, as it might have done in another case…
There was a possibility…but it couldn't be true…right?
Aerith looked up and back to Krystea. The woman had looked back up to her now…and now her coldness was gone. The rough, hard person that she had been before had totally vanished. She was now fully open and vulnerable. As Aerith looked at her…she once again sensed the connection between them. But it wasn't just their faces. Something…internal…was between them. She realized that now. They could sense a kindred spirit in each other, as different as they were. Aerith couldn't believe this…but it appeared as if Krystea already was starting to. She was quivering now. Her eyes were beginning to well up in tears.
"My life…my whole life I can remember…I've had nothing." Krystea began. "Only memories of pain…of a family that wasn't my own. I don't remember where I came from, where I was born…just being given to the Valentines and spending most of my life in hell, shielded only by my older brother occasionally. All my life I can remember…I've only felt a pressing, incomplete need in me… I wanted to see that I belonged to something…that I had some line and connection in this world…just like everything else. And now…Aerith…I think I found it."
Aerith let the paper fall from her grasp. Krystea herself was losing her composure. Somehow, in that moment…she believed it. As she looked back into Aerith's eyes, she believed her suspicions were right. She felt warm just to be looking at her…felt that completeness she longed for…felt a bond with someone else. She was nearly breaking apart now, barely holding herself back. The Cetra looked at her a moment longer, but then finally voiced what all of this implied.
"Are you telling me…that we're…sisters?"
At this, Krystea couldn't hold it anymore.
To Aerith's surprise, the woman lunged forward at her. But it wasn't to attack. It was to wrap her arms around her and bury her face against her chest…and start to sob with joy.
The Cetra was overwhelmed. She hesitantly held back, and she still couldn't believe it. Minutes ago, she thought that Krystea was just another heartless Turk. Now she was clinging to her desperately with such affection…
Dear Lord…what if she's right?
What if it is true?
She's been hurt in the past. I could tell that easily. And now, she lives this life of emotionless slaughtering. She might be clinging to me for an outlet…
But if so, why the paper? And why would she have forged it just to give it to me, when she didn't even know for certain I was alive? I can tell by her voice…she's not lying. She hasn't had a dark thought save against her foster father since we sat down. She's been a lonely woman, filled with the hurt that she doesn't have any true connection to anyone…yet knowing what she has to be inside. She's clinging to me because I'm the only connection to who she really is…the only true family she has…
The only true family…I may have.
If it is true…then this is my sister. A sister I never knew existed… I should have…shouldn't I? But no…I could not tell exactly who I was feeling all the time. I wouldn't unless she died… Even then, I never felt my father's call… If we were both alive…yet not aware of each other…there's no reason we should have known we lived… What if she is inferior of her abilities? Or…what if she isn't? What if she's had to live hearing these voices for years, not knowing who they were or where they come from?
But what if she is really…?
That means…I'm not alone.
…And I have a family.
Slowly but surely…Aerith's arms crept around the woman as well, as she continued to hold on to her.
"I…have a sister…"
Her arms encircled her fully. They held a moment longer…but then suddenly clenched tightly against her. In a moment, Aerith was hugging Krystea as fiercely as she was hugging her. She bowed her head down on her own…and soon she too began to weep with joy. That only made Krystea happier, and therefore made her intensify her own behavior. Aerith believed her…and to her, that only made it seem more certain that what she was feeling was real. She believed it was true fully, without a trace of doubt in her mind. At that moment, she fully stopped seeing Aerith as a target, and cast all of her codes as a Turk to the wind in regard to her. All she cared about was having a family, and being with a member right now.
The two women hugged for a long time. And Aerith began to feel lighter again. Despite what she may have lost when she died, she realized she was continuing to get more back. It was a miracle that an act of fate like this could have brought them together at just this moment…but she praised God for it. This changed everything in her life…but it was a happy change, and one she believed was for the better. For a while, both forgot about all the pressures, dangers, and concerns around both of their lives. They thought only of each other.
At last, Krystea composed herself enough to talk further. "That…that's why…I had to turn on my friends." She said between sniffles. "They'd have taken you back to Shinra… They'd have caged you like an animal…or worse. I'm…I'm so sorry I hit you earlier…sorry I shot you… I would never have if-"
"Shh…it's alright." Aerith answered, reassuringly patting the woman on the back. It was strange… It felt as if this was totally natural…that she should act as the big sister looking out for her younger sibling. Aerith nearly laughed at the thought. Well, she should, shouldn't she? Although she hardly felt like she was in the proper shape to do anything to care for her right now…
Neither Aerith nor Krystea were sure how long they would have stayed like that, enjoying this moment, had they been left to their own devices for a little while longer.
As it was…they were not. Suddenly…a massive force struck the wall of the building just to the right of them…and the entire wall was smashed in.
Both women immediately snapped out of it, and recoiled in shock as a tremendous crashing sound resounded.Tthe brick, wood, insulation, and drywall went flying in every direction, some of it being flung across the room. A practical avalanche of building material poured down and crashed all around them, and it was only because Krystea's practiced instincts of avoiding danger that Aerith was pushed away and not buried under it. She was left to gape in shock as to what could have caused this.
However, as the initial roar died, and as the debris began to calm down and be silent, both women noticed something. It wasn't a bomb blast that had caused that last eruption. Nor was it some vehicle that had crashed.
It was a man.
At least…he appeared to be a man. From outer appearances, it seemed that, in the wake of that debris fall, a dirt and plaster-covered homeless person was in the midst of it. He was almost totally shrouded in his own dirty clothing, but his figure, on closer inspection, seemed to be rather large for a human and…twisted. Almost like some sort of hunchback. At any rate, smashing through the wall didn't appear to stun it much. It soon turned and looked over to the two women.
Aerith and Krystea were rather fixated on him at the moment, and as Krystea continued to slowly back Aerith away, the woman began to reach into her own suitcoat for the Valentine…
"Silly Nimrod…never wanting to use the door."
Both Aerith and Krystea froze in surprise, and wheeled around behind them. To their shock, they saw that their side of the room was already flooded with five other people. While they had been so focused on the giant smashing through the wall, they didn't notice that another had kicked the door in, and that more had flooded the area in a short period of time. These ones lacked the size and shape of the first…although they too seemed to be somewhat twisted…but they were shrouded in the same dirty clothing. Now, they were surrounded on both sides.
Krystea wheeled from one side to the other. The big one was beginning to move forward, stepping out of the pile of debris and toward them. He was pushing them closer to the waiting group behind them. This was a problem. Krystea realized that both sides were too close for comfort. She was a sharpshooter…not a quickdraw. She had the foresight to reload the Valentine with bullets instead of darts, but she only had six shots. If she missed one… She had the factor of Aerith to protect now…which was the penultimate priority now that she had finally tracked down the last member of her family. And there was a good chance that they would be in lunging distance of her if she fought…
One of the covered people on the other side of the room suddenly tipped her head. It was as if she was smelling something. After doing so, however, a hissing laugh came from her face.
"Fear…anxiety…indecision… She's not as formidable as she was a few minutes ago…"
Krystea snapped to this woman, and her eyes widened. Could she…smell her emotion?
The one on the right spoke up again, sounding like the one she had heard a moment ago. "You'll be coming with us, ladies. Dr. Hoeng awaits. I wouldn't make it hard on us. We need to capture you alive and intact…but we can still beat you half to death."
The woman swallowed. She looked down to Aerith…and saw that she had changed considerably. She looked rather panicked and fearful now. Krystea didn't know why…but she felt uncomfortable now. That meant she could rule out Aerith being able to pull off a maneuver like with Reno again. The big guy was still advancing…and she realized she had to move soon. There was only one way out, and that was through the opening in the wall. But if there were more outside…it wouldn't help. She would have to try and kill the giant first, and then drag Aerith up and back out before the other five could grab them. But despite how powerful the Valentine was, she doubted it would leave much of an effect on a person who could smash through a building wall like that…
But she had to try. Krystea would have reached for her gun, pulled it out, and fired in another second…
But she didn't have the chance.
To her shock, a much more normal looking human form suddenly leapt through the wall and at the giant. The figure only had a second to turn in his direction before the human slugged him across the face.
To her further shock…the blow ripped the big guy off of his feet and sent him flying across the room to smash into the back wall.
Aerith and Krystea were dumbfounded as the man touched down. However, he wasn't done yet. He immediately whirled around to them and their assailants. He was a rather thin and lanky man, causing further confusion as to how he managed to do what he just did. His hair was black as night and short, and his features were as thin as he was. He also seemed to be dressed in the bright orange clothing of a prison inmate. But he also had a rather monstrous, scale-like, three bladed sword in his opposite hand, which he quickly brought up and brandished in front of him. His face was tight and fierce as he glared at the opposing five enemies. They, in sheer awe that their burly assistant had been toppled by a single blow from this man, were stunned and paralyzed a moment.
That gave the man the chance to look down and glare at the two women.
"Get out of here! Run while I hold them off!"
Aerith might have stayed, surprised as she was and confused at what was happening. But Krystea had learned to think on her feet. She didn't know who this guy was…but if he was willing to cover their escape, he was welcome to it. Besides, after that punch…it looked like he could handle himself. Quickly, the woman sprung back to her feet, and pulled Aerith up with her. Not taking the time to be gentle, she practically slung the woman over one shoulder, and took off. She brushed right past their strange savior and for the opening in the wall. Moments later, she was gone.
To be continued...
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Some of you may have been keen enough to notice that Krystea's story is full of holes that clash with FFVII's timeline. This is not due to holes in the plot itself from my part (I'm hurt that you think so little of me :( ). Trust me...these holes are integral to the plot, and will start popping up again when the less emotive characters in my story ponder Krystea and Aerith's turn of events...