I hope my writing style doesn't take an "archaic" turn this chapter. I've been reading a lot of Lord of the Rings lately, and I tend to imitate styles that are fresh in my mind...
Once more, the two gladiator-like warriors collided, bringing their power down on each other. They glared hard into each other's eyes, burning with fury and passion and not backing down. After that, they leapt apart and then shot forward again, renewing their assault.
As they continued to lock swords, their bodies continued to hover in midair, flying back and forward again, and cutting deadly arcs of light around them. They spiraled around each other, continuing to shoot through the insides of the Dome. And yet, they did so in such a way it looked as if they weren't even trying to miss the endless amount of machinery and debris around them. They focused almost all of their energy on each other. Again and again they shot away from each other and shot back, and each lock of a blade sent another blast of light out as sparks flew from the blades.
Sephiroth and Bahamut clashed once again. The esper was stunned at the power of this man. It was far greater than what he had forseen. He was maintaining a poker face well…but the truth was that he was struggling for his own life as he battled on with him. He wasn't aware that humans could attain such power. This was a god amongst mortals, even amongst other espers. Had he been with Wyvern now, and both of them had the same level of power they had when they first fought each other to the death…Sephiroth would still defeat them.
Abruptly, the dark man swung his blade around. Using his power, he threw Bahamut and his sword off from him and away against the wall. Before he even landed, he shot after him and brought his blade around again, intending to slice through him. However…as the slash went across, Bahamut once again vanished into thin air. Yet the force of the blade was still great enough to make the air slice through the metal behind him, so great that an entire section of their corridor bent inward and twisted in the wake of the blow. Bahamut, on his part, reappeared in front of Sephiroth a moment later, as the wall behind him fell apart from the slash.
The esper shot out with a jab for Sephiroth's face. However, the dark man was still fast. To the esper's amazement, he didn't even seem to be growing tired as the fight went on. He dodged out of the way, and soon slashed at Bahamut's own head. The esper snapped his own face back and dodged as well, and then aimed another slash at Sephiroth's torso. The dark man hovered backward in reply, letting it cut the air instead. However, this blow was powerful too. As a result…Sephiroth's coat tore in the wake of the slice. His skin remained intact though. He was again surprised, but not enough to stall him before he dipped forward and swung his blade upward, meaning to slice through Bahamut from sternum to stim. The esper swung back, but the force of the slice cut through his clothing as well…and his armor seemed to bend in its wake. Yet still, he did not stop, and soon he twisted out of this and aimed another blow for Sephiroth's neck. The dark man intercepted, however, and another flash of sparks illuminated their passionate faces in the darkness of the Dome.
The two soon continued their deadly dance. Bahamut had experience and power on his side, and because of that he had somewhat of the edge thus far. However, he had no idea how long it would last. His skill with a sword was still inferior to Sephiroth's. Yet now, technique seemed to matter little. Power and speed did. The esper found it shocking that humans had even managed to beat this one before, what with how much he had to put out. Then again...it was more than likely that he had gained new power since then. Again and again their blades collided. They flew through the Dome faster and faster, their stray cuts blowing more steam valves and conduits every few moments. The engineers of the Dome had to be going crazy by now, wondering what was causing all of this damage. But neither of them cared. They continued to fight on.
As the two warriors came over a flatter section of ground beneath them, relatively speaking considering the side of the Dome, they once more locked blades. Once more they pushed their strength against each other and struggled to break the other one down, and neither of them dared show any weakness. After a moment longer…they both pushed away at one another, and both of their bodies went to the ground. The sound of both of their boots clicking went off, but then vanished again as, on landing, both immediately went off for one another.
Sephiroth lunged out with four blows…so strong and fast that one would not have even seen them had Bahamut's blade not intercepted them, making them appear again in reality. At the end, Sephiroth broke away and aimed a slice for Bahamut's head. The esper ducked…and a massive slash tore through a vertical metal pipe further behind him. He lunged back by spinning underneath it, coming back over with arms out, and attempting to bring his sword down on Sephiroth. The dark man shot back again, and then lunged forward. Another clash followed. Bahamut, afterward, yanked back, and then quickly shot forward with two lightning-fast jabs. Sephiroth twisted his own body out of the way…and behind him two invisible thrusts punched holes into the machinery. He followed this up with a slice down on Sephiroth, but the dark man intercepted it. Both of them locked again, and this time dug their feet into the ground. Flexing their powerful muscles, they twisted each other's blades from side to side, smashing them down on the ground and then into a wall. They tightened their fists into white knuckles…and then pushed off again and put a gap between them. They touched down on the ground and went into ready stances afterward. At long last…they both paused.
The chamber was silent save for the sounds of machinery. Some of the areas were hissing or sparking from their battle, but no other sound was being made. Both of them stood without breathing hard or even sweating. They had been going at each other with inhuman force for over ten minutes now, and still neither of them was showing the slightest sign of exhaustion. Their eyes still blazed with their inner power, and their gazes were as hard and sharp as flint. Neither one wavered or moved, waiting patiently for the other to begin.
However…they were not exactly as they had been when they started.
For a minute of silence nothing happened…but then Bahamut's keen eyes caught it. Sephiroth didn't even shift to look at it, and he didn't detect any change in his dark mood. But somehow…he knew that the dark man was aware of it before he even said anything.
A single drop of blood slowly ran down the side of Sephiroth's head.
"Most impressive." Sephiroth finally stated. For all that had happened, he was still smiling. "You drew first blood. You're the first who has ever done so against me. Cloud did get me in the back…but I had already given him a wound back at Nibelheim, so he doesn't count. You're truly a remarkable creature. Had I been a bit younger, I might have desired to know more about you and how you got such power. As it is…this fight is now over."
Bahamut raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to say that you are going to withdraw? If so, then perhaps you are masking more exhaustion than you let on. I am still capable of going on further."
This, however, only made Sephiroth let out a short laugh. "Withdraw? I've never engaged an opponent with the intent to withdraw at any point in the battle. I was referring to the fact that I will now kill you. It appears that I will once again be the extinction of one of the ancient races of this world."
Bahamut merely tightened his grip on his sword.
"…I can see now why you show no exhaustion. You've been holding back. You still have more power to vent, and since I have finally spilled a drop of your blood you're going to now unleash it." Bahamut's eyes narrowed after this. "…But if you think that such will so easily guarantee you victory, then you have sorely underestimated me. I've waged battles on this world great enough to obliterate continents. And surely you must know that this is not my true form."
"Oh, let me assure you." Sephiroth coolly answered as his gaze narrowed…giving Bahamut a very dark and sinister feeling. Of course…he had seen this before. He had witnessed it in visions. But he had not actually felt it. Seeing it and actually experiencing it were two different things. The room seemed to grow darker, as if the light and warmth was being drained from it. Bahamut had to steel himself to keep from showing emotion…or fear. "I am quite above and beyond what you are capable of. You might have been able to contest me in terms of fear if you had vented everything first. As it is…I know you are no match for me."
Sephiroth removed one hand from his hilt, and stretched it out toward Bahamut. He flexed his palm once, and then seemed to make a gesture with it as he brought his sword further back and lowered it to his side. "This fight has been one of the more stimulating I've ever engaged in. But it ends now. I think simply tripling my current power will be enough to finish you."
Bahamut couldn't help it. His jaw tightened. Had this been the first time he encountered Sephiroth…he would have said the man was bluffing. It would have been his own ignorance…refusing to believe what this dark creature was capable of. But now…he had seen it. He couldn't believe it, but he knew it to be true. Sephiroth wasn't bluffing. This was no lie.
Not only could Sephiroth triple his current ability…he was capable of going far, far higher than that.
The esper bit down and held his ground. The air grew colder yet. The charge seemed to come off of it, and it grew stagnant in his nostrils. It was as if the oxygen on it had somehow rotted. The darkness closed around Sephiroth…seeming to condense around his humanoid form. He kept his smile, and glared at the esper darkly from the gloom as it gathered around him. Even Bahamut's own light seemed to dim now in the wake of this new power. The noise of the machinery grew softer, as if something was sucking the ability to make noise out of it…so to focus all the attention on the dark man. Slowly…his feet turned down and then rose off the ground, as he began to levitate again. The only thing that shone forth from the gloom were his eyes…which seemed to blaze stronger and more terribly than ever…
Then…he moved.
Bahamut remembered twisting his blade down and intercepting the blow…but he couldn't remember after that. He was barely able to see Sephiroth's movements. All he knew was that he felt pain around him, and his stomach turned as his body was thrown back and smashed into a wall, punching a good three-foot indentation into it. The steam pipes and valves collapsed around him, as his eyes shut, his mouth opened, and he cried in agony. He barely had time to realize what had gone on. His arms felt terrible, and his sword was dangling from one hand. His stomach hurt…and a large bloody gash was in his side. He knew why. Within the blink of an eye, Sephiroth had intercepted his blade, wrenched it to one side, sliced him through on the side, and then punched him with enough power to send him plowing into the wall. As he groaned and tried to recover, he looked up and ahead of him again. But he saw nothing. Sephiroth had disappeared.
Not waiting to be hit again, Bahamut clenched his teeth and quickly yanked himself out. He brought his blade to bear and held it at the ready. However, he had just managed to stagger out onto the field again…when a blur shot by his vision. Moments later, his head snapped from the impact of a hard blow to the head. The esper felt his teeth rattle in his skull, although all stayed in place. However, that was only the immediately hit. A second pain soon came from Bahamut's other side, and the esper reached for it. On touching it, he winced and gave a cry. Another slash was in it.
A moment later, and he toppled forward. A blow had hit him in the back of the head. However, as he stumbled a bit, he felt hot pain at the back of two of his legs…right where the Achilles' tendons were. It was a miserable pain, and walking on it hurt…but he realized it hadn't been cut all the way through. It was just on the skin, and he could still walk. That was a good thing. If Sephiroth had cut that, he would have been dead on the ground. As it was, his regeneration ability now had a new thing to work on.
However…the esper felt his fear mounting. There was no reason Sephiroth shouldn't have cut his tendons…unless he wanted to drag this out. He was toying with him…letting him know he was helpless to defend himself from a fatal blow. He had to fight back…despite the fact that this speed was so great that even he couldn't follow it.
He let his passion surge and fuel him, and he grit his teeth as he raised his sword again. Sensing was useless. Sephiroth's dark aura was of a different sort…almost seeming to create an absence of energy rather than a presence. Reading his mind to get his next move was equally pointless. This one had too great of a mental fortitude for simple probes…
Bahamut saw another blur come at him. He put his sword forward and intercepted the blow. But at what almost seemed like the exact same time, he felt a hit at the back of his head, making him spill forward. But he didn't get far before another one hit him under the chin. This one was so strong that he actually lifted off from the ground when his body was thrown upward. While still in the air, he felt another slash go parallel to the side that was initially cut, before a powerful hit knocked his head to the side and hit him still higher.
The esper managed to get his bearings and twist back after this to avoid another blow, but that was useless. He received another two hits afterward, first in one side and then the other, and both knocking him higher. Somehow in there he received another slash, this one just grazing the skin over his carotid.
Bahamut swung himself back after taking this blow…but again only managed to avoid one before feeling a hot pain across his back before getting another slam in the back of it. His body went flying up, before he felt a more powerful blow jarring the back of his head. This finally sent him flying back down to the ground once again…and hitting hard. He smashed another indentation against the ground as he did. As he went flying off, he felt another hit beneath the jaw, sending him up and flying away again.
However, he felt yet another slicing pain strike him as he came out from this…this one far more painful.
He felt it across his left eye.
The esper had to struggle to repress the urge to cry in pain as he flew back one last time, smashing into one final wall. After once again pounding a large indentation into it, sending steam clouds bursting around him, he was allowed to slump to the ground and come to a rest. He did so…but he did not let his arms fall. Instead, he immediately reached up and clutched for his left eye. On doing so, he felt hot liquid gush onto his palm and begin to ooze through his fingers. It mingled with the rest of his blood that he felt spilling from the various cuts over his body. He winced and sat there a moment, resting and trying to get his bearings, clenching his teeth and hissing between them. Even for one as old and powerful as him, he was in considerable pain after that beating…and especially the injury to his eye.
Steam and machinery continued to rage around him. But through it all, he was able to catch the sound of two footsteps lightly tapping against the ground. On hearing this, he looked up to the source. He looked with only one eye. The other one was blurred and red, and he held it shut with his hand. But as he saw the ground in front of him, he beheld a pair of black boots slowly coming down and touching. It was a reverse of what he had seen just moments ago…only the black aura was still filling the chamber. As the feet slowly touched down and came to a halt, the owner of them calmly let his arms and sword down to the ground…still stained with the blood of Bahamut. He patiently waited for him to stand.
As for the esper, he looked up to his face. Despite the speed and power he had used…he wasn't tired. He didn't even look like he had exerted himself. He still had that calm expression…filled with malice and hate, his eyes blazing evil with their horrible green color.
Bahamut stared at him a moment more, but then inhaled deeply. Putting his other arm out, he began to push up from the cavity and back to his feet. He didn't stumble, and was rather calm as he did so. However, he breathed a bit harder now, and his tension was obvious. He felt sore and pained. He had several cuts all over his body, each of them bleeding. He continued to hold his eye as he stood. He didn't look at himself, but he could feel all the slashes that Sephiroth had given him as well as the bruises and bumps. He swished his mouth once and spat, removing blood that had come from a loosened tooth. He let his regeneration work. However, it only succeeded on healing the bruises and bumps. The cuts stubbornly continued to bleed. He knew why immediately. This man was a very skilled swordsman. Despite his speed, he had cut him in such a way that the cuts could not regenerate. No wonder he was so deadly… Nevertheless, he stood tall in the end, and glared back at Sephiroth with his one eye.
"Do you still doubt my power?" Sephiroth calmly asked.
"I never said I did." Bahamut answered, surprisingly smoothly considering the pain he had to be in. "I merely said that I was still holding back."
"I think now would be an opportune time to show some of this strength of yours." Sephiroth answered. "You can see now that your human form is too weak. And I desire to kill you in your full glory…not handicapped by this weak flesh."
Bahamut hesitated for a moment here. Sephiroth's confidence was again well founded. Bahamut had already seen this battle before it had happened. There were a few differences, but nothing yet to avoid the fate that came forth in the end. He knew the inevitability of this battle before he had drawn his sword. However, despite all of that…he was not one to merely stand and accept fate. And he had planned to go that far long before now.
With that in mind, Bahamut stood his ground. After hesitating a moment longer, he raised his sword and then tossed it to the side, letting it clatter against the ground and slide away from him. Once it had come to a rest, and the sound of its sliding had ceased, he slowly removed his bloody hand from his eye. Without wincing or shifting, he exposed to Sephiroth the bloody, slashed orb still in his head for a brief moment. Then, he formed a pincer with his fingers, and drove them deep into the eye socket. More blood came forth as he reached into it, and a squishing resulted as he dipped his fingers into his skull. But after pinching for a moment, he yanked back out…pulling his eye with it. He flicked it aside like so much rubbish. He never shifted once when he did. After that, he clenched his jaw and focused for a brief moment.
Sephiroth didn't turn away from any of this, and continued to watch as it happened. As he did, something began to swish within Bahamut's skull. Slowly…a sac expanded within the socket, like a balloon filling with air. After a moment it filled up and became turgid. It darkened in the middle afterward, forming several rings. In a matter of moments, Bahamut's eye was regrown, with only the still-bloodstained socket signifying it had ever been out. Now, with both eyes, he glared hard at Sephiroth. His own aura began to flare, seeming to make the ground around him brighter and more livid as he grew.
"So be it."
Aerith's feet finally got out of crunching snow and stood on bare pavement. With this, she found it far easier to move forward, although the wetness of her feet made her slip somewhat. However, she and the others didn't care much for this. Aerith knew that time was quickly running out for them, and now they were at last on the final leg of their journey. The most promising sight of all was now before the Cetra.
Just ahead of them, less than a hundred meters away, one of the Gelinkas was idling, prepping for launch and yet not moving. The engines were humming but the propellers weren't turning yet. As the sun continued to rise and bathe it in an increasing white glow, it looked more open and inviting than ever. Here at last was the way out of this area and back to freedom.
Here, at last, Aerith could worry about Ragnar and Cloud again.
Tired as they were and covered with sweat, the remaining members of the group ran even faster to hurry and close the gap between them and the plane. None of them dared look behind them, or even pay any mind to any noise besides their own heaving and the engines of the plane. They didn't want to know if a garrison had already deployed behind them, or if contact had been made with one of the divisions out there to change course and intercept them. They were very lucky that there weren't many troops standing between them and the airfield, and now they had a clear run to the craft itself. Aerith barely cared about the stinging cold wind that was now exposed as she felt the need to get to the safety of the plane.
As she drew closer and more details became evident, it was clear that the back of the plane was already open, as if expecting more cargo. However, a single Shinra private stood there instead, motioning them desperately on, almost angry with the need for urgency, and into the craft. He seemed rather impatient, or worried. Aerith knew they weren't that late…so she had a bad feeling that some other factor had suddenly made them have need to get out of here quicker.
At last, the first of their group crossed the threshold and entered. The soldier looked to this one, but then turned and motioned the others on. Until now, Aerith had been so preoccupied with reaching the Gelinka that she didn't realize she had fallen into the rear. Again, Tifa came to her aid. She fell back long enough to grab her by the shoulders and force her onward, getting a bit more out of her stamina. As they passed under the threshold and into the Gelinka, Aerith thought she heard the soldier curse something in Wutai at them. But she didn't care. Now in safety, her adrenaline level dropped, and she only went in a few feet before Tifa let go of her. Exhaling a large sigh, she fell to the metal ground.
Aerith caught her breath for a moment, holding up her face against the bottom floor of plane by her forehead. The sound of metal footsteps rushing around her went by, and then faded away to the sides. There, she heard more things moving and clicking. At this, she weakly managed to raise her head and see what was going on. Here was the first time she got a good look at the inside of a Gelinka. It wasn't much. Unlike Cid's airships, this lacked most comforts and was boiled down to practicality. The main body of the plane was just one giant cargo hold. The basic metal frame of the plane was evident, and insulation had been packed around it. There were also large straps and hitches for fastening things down or people down. Other equipment was there for parachute drops. But other than that, nothing. It was a big, empty space capable of flight, and nothing more. On the furthest end, a small metal rung ladder built into a flat metal space ascended into a small area that seemed to be surrounded with glass. Two men were in it at a set of controls, and Aerith reasoned that this was the cockpit.
As she took in her new surroundings, she heard the soldier behind her accost the last arrivals.
"Why didn't you all just set off a bomb in there?!" He angrily stated. "The entire Dome is on red alert! Where are your commanding officers? What were they thinking?"
"They're dead." A cold voice returned, from one of the Wutai soldiers. "Save for escaping with our lives and assassinating Colonel Seth, this entire mission has been a disaster. I just hope our failure didn't transfer over to the fleet."
"Unfortunately, it did." The soldier responded, a bit softer but no less grim. "Many Phoenix pilots lost their lives trying to buy time for the defense grid to fall. Many more died trying to make an attack run. The New Shinra channels reveal that they are now trying to shoot off the ones that did make the attack run…only to have those present at the Gauntlet of Zeus complete the shield ahead of schedule. Now our fleet is in disarray and retreat, and the voice of Admiral Ashiah urges her own fleet on to pounce on the stragglers like a rabid wolf. The only thing we can do now is get out of here before we become casualties ourselves."
On hearing this, however, Aerith began to push up from the ground and turn. However, such was unnecessary. Tifa was up, and as she turned around she saw her step forward to the soldier as well.
"Not yet." She stated. "We still have two of our group fighting their way out in there."
"Then they're probably already dead." The soldier answered flatly. "All radio channels are concerned only with your company, no one else."
"They may have not been found out yet." Tifa answered back. "We got separated. They'll be coming here. We have to hold for them."
One of the pilots must have overheard this, because on hearing Tifa say this he turned his head around and called back. "Not a chance in hell!"
"They're expendable at this point." The soldier added more calmly, but also firmly. "We take off now." With that, he turned and made to go further into the ship, as if the matter was closed.
However, this didn't settle well with the others, of course, and especially not Aerith. As she rose to stand, Tifa reached out and grabbed the man by the shoulder, spinning him back around to her. "Wait a minute…we just can't leave them!"
"They might be dead by now, and we'd be increasing our risk at our own peril." The soldier answered…although he seemed a little upset at how Tifa had seized him.
"Trust me, they're not dead." Tifa answered.
Aerith was up at this point, and stepped forward and spoke as well. "They're the two leaders of the Planet Protector Army. They're important to our cause."
The soldier frowned and turned to her. "Then the PPA will have to choose new leaders. We have to launch."
By now, Barret was hearing this, and his irritation was growing. Yuffie herself was buckling in, but she too looked ready to protest. However, it was Barret who stepped forward and began to raise one of his hands threateningly. "Wait now! You listen to me for a minute-"
"No, all of you listen to me!"
This sudden outburst put an end to discussions and arguments, and turned the attention of everyone else around to the cockpit. The pilot that had yelled before had his head turned and was looking out at them. He seemed rather angry.
"Half of this Dome is on your tails now! They're mobilizing the ground artillery! The tower just canceled our clearance to launch, and two thousand troops just got dispatched to this airfield! They know we're here and they're going to be tearing this ship apart in five minutes assuming they don't decide to just blow us up before giving us a chance to surrender! This matter is not up for negotiation! We're leaving right now! If you want to wait for them, then get the hell off my plane, because I'm not waiting another damn minute!"
The man turned back at this, and pressed a button on the controls. When he did, the rear end of the plane began to close up. As it did, he began to start the engines up, and the propellers began to turn. The plane slowly began to shift and move forward, to start the takeoff process. As the door closed, Barret suddenly shoved the soldier away and moved for it, looking to tear it back open himself. However, there were other soldiers in here that were part of the crew, and they now stepped forward and began to stop him. They soon paid a price for that, because he began to aggressively shove his way through them, even hitting some of them. As for Tifa, she was torn herself. Aerith could see why. Years back, she had abandoned three of her other friends for the sake of completing a mission. There was a chance they could have survived had they stopped to drag them out of there. But instead, they left them to die, to either bleed to death or be crushed by the falling Sector 7 Plate. This may have been giving her some guilt, wanting to stop for Cloud but having not stopped for people she loved less.
As for Aerith herself, she didn't know what to do as the Gelinka began to increase speed.
Cloud…Ragnar…where are you?
Will this Dome never end?
Cloud was just starting to think these angry and frustrated thoughts as his latest venture had led only to another metal utility stairwell heading up. Seeing it made him upset. He thought he was at the top of this place by now, and he was certain he had to have gone up more than ten stories despite how much climbing up and down alike he had done. And yet still more machinery, grids, girders, and lights stretched above him. He thought he was at last coming to the top, but now he saw that there was another way yet to go on.
Sighing, the ex-mercenary had no choice but to go to it and begin to ascend. He had to do something soon besides try to find a way out of here. It felt like Ragnar was coming around, yet whether he would be better off conscious or semi-conscious was beyond Cloud. What he did know was that he was getting heavier, and that if he didn't do something for him soon he might be in more danger of dying than he was now. At this point, it seemed like hours that he had been wandering through this structure. And if he didn't know any better…he'd say it was being bombed, what with the way it seemed to quiver and shake around him every now and then. His thoughts were turning from escape to simply wanting to get out of this metal prison…
At that moment, however, something happened that seemed to satisfy Cloud's desires. He continued to ascend the stairs. But as he did, he found himself passing through another opening in the machinery and light fixtures, going up through one of these artificial "ceilings". He had done so several times at this point, and wasn't initially thrilled about it. That soon changed, however. The lights in the area he emerged into weren't industrial, but were paler and brighter. A vast opening began to come around him, moving in all directions and seeming to give him fresh, non-oily air. As he reached the top, he found himself coming to rest on what seemed like some sort of suspended catwalk platform for service. Around him were a few metal bars suspending it to what he reasoned was a ceiling. This "ceiling" was in the open area that stretched out in every direction, illuminated by the same light. He also noticed that it was distinctly curved. As he came on top of this platform, he stopped to catch his breath a moment, looking around.
He had done it at last. He was at the top.
Cloud paused a moment, but then looked overhead. He was fortunate. Right over this catwalk was a small ladder leading from an unlocked metal hatch overhead. It was some sort of service door for access to the top of the Dome. It was sloped a bit too much for Cloud's care…and for a moment he thought of moving up in this new area a bit more to try to find a more level roof area. But then he decided against it. Doing so would mean stepping off the catwalk where support was never certain, and he didn't want to risk anything worse happening to Ragnar in his pitiful condition. This would be his exit.
With that in mind, Cloud set the injured youth down long enough to readjust his straps from his uniform's rifle and ammunition harness. Alone would be easy enough, but to carry Ragnar, Event Horizon, and himself up this vertical ladder required both of his hands, and he wanted them both free to get out of whatever problem might present itself next. Once loosened, he took Ragnar up again and put him on his back over his sword. He tightened him down with the straps as best as he could until he was securely fastened to the ex-mercenary. With that done, Cloud inhaled deeply and then began to climb up the short ladder.
The weight imbalance took a bit of getting used to, but it was more awkward to move in the small space than manage the added load. At the top, he reached out and grabbed the handle. It took a bit of work, but his strength was enough to rotate it without tools. Once he had it undone, he stepped up a bit higher so that he could put more force from one arm under it, and then pushed up.
It didn't want to give. The aerodynamics of the Dome caused the wind to push hard against him. And it was also far too heavy for any normal hatch. It had to be armored. Luckily Cloud was unnaturally strong, or he never would have opened it. But as it cracked, and the fresh cold smell of clear air and the light of the sun struck him, he was encouraged to keep pushing until he at last managed to throw it all the way open, setting it down on top of the edge of the Dome with its weight pinning it down to keep from snapping back. Cloud next began to ascend out of the Dome and onto the roof.
Getting Ragnar though the opening was a bit hard, but he managed. It was icy cold outside, for the wind was whipping fiercely here, and Cloud's eyes were stung and immediately watered. He felt the worst for Ragnar…who soon began to shudder. Resistant as he was to cold, the youth was half naked and had lost a lot of blood. Had it been any other person, Cloud would have had to pause to try and care for Ragnar a little while. But as it was, even in his weakened state Ragnar could get by with some shivering. The light stabbed Cloud's eyes along with the cold, until he was practically blinded. He had to pause and wait for his eyes to acclimate before he dared get out any more, in case part of the Dome was icy and threatened to send him sliding off to his death.
At last, Cloud did manage to open his eyes. He had quite the view from where he was. To his left he could see only a little, for the bulk of the Dome was still rising on that side to its apex. But on his right and in front and in back of him, he could see the vast white snow plain that surrounded the Dome, and all of its features. The mountains rose high and icy further on his right, while the valley opened up and led down in front of him. And all around him he could see the army. All of their engines of war…all of their divisions…their bays, artillery, and vehicles… It was quite impressive…and disheartening. Cloud realized as he looked down how far they still had to go after all their victories. The enemy still had more than enough troops to afford to be lax with what resources they had. Yet for now…it was a nice thing to be able to look down and around and see this all from his safe point, like an observer would, and be able to just marvel at it.
That quickly went away, however. Reality began to settle in, and he started to realize that his fortunes had not improved much…assuming they hadn't gotten worse. He was out of the Dome, but the sides were too smooth and sheer to hope to climb down. Sliding down wasn't much better. He could probably manage that alone if he landed in soft snow and not right in front of an soldier bay, which from where he was seemed equally likely, but not with Ragnar on his back. He was still very much stuck up here with him, and the only option available seemed to be to go back down into the hole, something that wouldn't get him anywhere and might mean death if it went too much longer for Ragnar.
Cloud sighed at the thought and looked around. He hadn't worked so hard to get up here to turn back less than a minute after arrival. He had to see if there was anything else he could do. There were some shield projection rods…but they were too far apart for him to use as footholds and handholds. They probably wouldn't hold his weight further down anyway. He could reason from what he could see where the snowdrifts were…but was that wise? It wouldn't get them anywhere if they just landed without transportation. He could try landing in front of one of the bays, but that would mean fighting with the youth on his back. He could try running, but where would-
Then, it suddenly occurred to Cloud. Of course. They were supposed to get out on the Gelinka. And perhaps they hadn't taken off yet. If so, then all he had to do was get down and go to it. With that in mind, he turned his head and tried to look for where the airfield was located.
It didn't take long to find it…especially since a few masses of troops and some artillery units were headed in that direction. It also didn't take long for him to see a single Gelinka having turned onto the runway, and rapidly increasing velocity…
As the Cetra drew her body over the top of the ladder and thrust herself forward in between the two pilots, both of them turned and stared at her in confusion. She paid them no mind, however. She focused instead on the outside, looking out the window eagerly and scanning the surrounding area. She didn't heed them or the commotion that was still coming from downstairs.
"What are you doing?" One of the pilots asked.
Aerith didn't answer, and there was little point in trying to explain why she was there. In most basic terms…she was watching. Watching to look for Cloud and Ragnar. However, this was a mostly futile gesture at this point. They were picking up speed now, and on the runway to lift off. The pilots wouldn't stop now, especially not now since the mobile artillery units were rushing forward as fast as they could to fire on them before they could take off. And it was more of a fool's hope at this point than anything. However…the Cetra did not think so.
For some reason…she felt drawn here. Something within her was moving. She felt deep inside that Ragnar was close now…far closer than he had been before. It was strange that she felt that only for him and not for Cloud…but then again it was strange that she was sensing anything at all. She had not felt like this for as long as she could remember…and yet now she felt as if his presence was near. And so…she found herself out here, watching as they continued to build speed.
Barret and Yuffie were still arguing, futile as it was. The rear cargo door had closed, and opening it again would do little good. However…Tifa had noticed Aerith break off, and saw the look in her eyes as she did so. On seeing this, she realized that something had occurred to her. And she had more faith in Aerith's feelings and abilities than most. And so, she had run down to the base of the ladder, and there she stood and looked up to her, waiting for some word to come from her.
Aerith, on her part, didn't notice. She only stared out and ahead of her, scanning the area. There was plenty to be worried about. The runway was slowly terminating, and doing so faster every moment. Meanwhile, troops were still trying to surround the field, although none dared get in their path at this point. Even artillery units wouldn't have been able to stop it without taking much damage, but at this point they couldn't get close enough in time. The sun was still rising, turning more of the world white as the glow off of the snow increased. Yet still there loomed a giant shadow over the valley from the New Shinra HQ Dome. Their path was taking them closer to it now, not farther away. In an act to try and reduce suspicion, they had commandeered a flight bound for more northernly regions to pick up troops on detail. After all, wouldn't an enemy want to take a flight bound south and to freedom? It hardly mattered now, save for the fact that for a few moments they were getting closer to the Dome and not farther away, and it continued to draw closer and closer, showing more and more of its details…
However, Aerith felt something else. Something within her drew her eyes to the Dome. Specifically, it drew them to the top. It was not a hunch or a feeling or pure luck. Something within her reached out with a gentle hand to touch her head and gently turn it in the direction of this area, and told her it was right to do so. And as she looked up and out…she noticed something.
Barely discernable from this distance, but slowly getting closer, was a black dot that stood out from the rest of the Dome.
And though to anyone else it would be foolish…she knew without a doubt in her mind or heart what it was.
"There they are!" She exclaimed, as if all of her friends could see her. In doing so, she reached out and pointed to the Dome. Immediately, those below froze and turned up to her, and the pilots turned and looked. By now, they were reaching the velocity of takeoff, and distance was running out. However, they watched as she pointed straight to the black point. "There!"
Tifa, naturally, immediately reacted with surprise and astonishment. Though if she had been up there she might have debated Aerith's resolution, from below she trusted her word implicitly. "Where?"
"They're on top of the Dome!" Aerith called back.
One of the pilots squinted at this, and leaned forward a bit to try and see this point. "…You can tell from here?" He asked. "All I see is a black dot… Maybe you're seeing things."
"No, it's them!" The Cetra responded with just as much eagerness. "We have to get them!"
"It's too late for that." The other pilot answered. "We're ready to lift off. Even if it is them, there's no way we can stop and hold for them. We have too much on our tail."
Only now did Aerith snap out of her stare. She turned down and looked to the pilot at this, seeming astonished. "But that's them! They made it out of the Dome!" She protested. "We can't leave them there!"
"Well we can't land or slow down either!" The pilot yelled back. "We're taking off right now!"
To Aerith's surprise as well as the pilots, Tifa's voice called up in answer to that.
"Then take off!"
Stunned at this, Aerith turned around and looked back down to Tifa, wondering what she was saying. However, the woman didn't stop to explain. As she turned and looked down, Tifa turned around and walked back into the main area. While the others who were still standing stood dumbfounded, she marched right up to the soldier that they had been arguing with before. She looked around a bit as she did, and in particular noticed a winch nearby for aiding in cargo drops. On seeing this, she turned to the man and came to a halt right in front of him.
"Open the cargo bay back up and lower that winch as far down as it will go." She stated, finally taking on a commanding air that showed her status as commander.
"What, are you kidding me?" The soldier answered incredulously. "While we're taking off? What good will that do other than-"
The man said no more, for Tifa suddenly shot out one of her fists and clenched it around his neck, immediately silencing him. His face paled in fear, while Tifa's blazed with passion and resolution. She brought him in a bit closer to her own face.
"Do it now or I'll punch you in the face so hard a tooth will come out of your nostril."
Thanks guys…I think.
Cloud thought this out loud as he continued to watch the Gelinka. In his unthinkingness, he had actually called out to them once. That was not only totally useless given the distance, but dangerous due to how close the soldiers were around him. Even if he had been only twenty feet away they wouldn't have heard him over the sounds of their own engines, which had been roaring to life. And sure enough, they moved on unheeded down the runway, until they reached the takeoff speed. On doing so, they lifted into the sky, and Cloud thought his hopes were dashed.
But then, as the plane lifted…he saw it alter course slightly. It turned its nose so that it was aimed in a course coming right over him and Ragnar, and despite the danger around it did not pick up speed. Only Cloud's heightened senses managed to see this, but as it came he saw something very faint come dangling from the end of the Gelinka and trail through the sky. It was a bit thick on the end, and Cloud reasoned it had to be a winch with a hook. However, that was all that changed. Now, it was flying right for him dangling this out, but neither slowing down or offering any other aid. In a few seconds, it would be on him.
Cloud swallowed at this, but quickly began to get ready. Judging the distance, he turned and stepped onto the smooth surface of the Dome. He began to run up it, getting to a higher point, and moving more in line with the oncoming aircraft. As she did, he tightened the straps that held Ragnar against him despite how painful it became to the injured youth. What he was about to do was crazy even for him. This move would most certainly rip off a body part of a normal person…and for all he knew it would do the same to him. And for a few moments, both he and the kid would be subjected to dazzling, dizzying heights and horrible cold that even he couldn't withstand. Yet there was no other way. This was the only way out now. And so, he made ready and waited.
At last, the Gelinka began to pull over the top of the Dome. As it came, it continued to gain altitude. But the winch line was still down, and it smacked against the top of the Dome and then dragged as the Gelinka continued to fly forward overhead. Cloud saw it, but turned his body in the opposite direction and then ran. He had to put as much momentum into this as he could, to ease off what would happen. However, even though he ran, it took no time at all for the Gelinka to catch up with him, and to drag its line down alongside him. As it came, he waited a few fateful moments for it to catch up to the two of them, still running all the time. Then, at last, it passed into his range. By then, the Gelinka was lifting off again, and the hook on the winch was pulling off of the top of the Dome and into midair. Cloud himself was running for the downward slope of the Dome, and he threatened to slip if it got much steeper. He reached out and used his gloves hand to seize the dangling cable. Still rushing forward, he practically threw himself up and on, and managed to yank one boot into the air and onto the hook. He couldn't make it that secure, but it was too late for that now. He pushed down as much as he could, held onto the cable, and lifted his foot off the ground.
Within seconds, Cloud's stomach turned into knots as his body was yanked off of the top of the Dome and into midair. In no time at all, he was shooting far up into it, leaving the Dome a hundred feet…two hundred feet…five hundred feet…a thousand feet below him. He was foolish enough to look then, but at that point he swallowed, feeling his nausea rise, shut it out of his brain, and then looked above him. As he did, winds whipped by him fiercely, and turbulence in the air began to spin him and turn him. He soon closed his eyes, grit his teeth, and clutched the cable so hard it began to cut into his gloves. His foot slipped on the hook, and so he held harder and did not let go. He shut all other things out of his mind save to hold on for all he was worth.
Cloud remembered nothing for what seemed like eternity other than being thrown around like a kite on a string. He felt Ragnar loosen on him…but he could do nothing to help him. He could barely hold on through the wind, the speed, and the twisting in midair as it was. The air felt thinner…but most of all colder…as time went on. It cut into him like an icy knife, and he was soon chilled to the bone. He felt his hands and feet going numb as he struggled to hold on, all the time being battered by more cold wind and engines. He couldn't hear Ragnar if he said anything, but he was beginning to shake violently now. The ex-mercenary began to fear that whoever was up there would leave him to dangle all the way back to Midgar…
That was when the swinging suddenly cut off to a more abrupt level, and then more so after that. At that point, warm hands reached down and seized Cloud at several different points, and then yanked him up and onto something hard and flat. His eyes were still shut, and he was still dizzy and dazzled, but he sensed himself being dragged backward, and the bright light of the outdoors began to fade into darkness. The sound of metal machinery moving went out, and he sensed the wind and cold begin to die as the area grew darker. After a few moments, he heard something click, and he no longer felt wind or cold, although he did feel movement around him. He began to open his eyes here, but his vision was swimming and dried from his jaunt in midair.
"Ugh…" He heard a woman croak. "How you aren't covered with your own vomit is beyond me, Cloud…ulp…"
A more friendly female voice came in as he felt warm hands rest on him again. "Same old Cloud…making your daring last minute escapes again. I'm glad you and Ragnar-"
But here, Cloud realized as his senses and bearings came back, the people were beginning to realize his current situation. In spite of the terror they had just avoided…there was a new horrible surprise that they were growing aware of.
"Oh my God…Ragnar…" Cloud heard Aerith's voice say. His vision began to clear, and he started to look around. Sure enough, he saw many gathered around him and some bent down to his side. But now…they were staring at the condition of his partner. He saw a brown haired figure suddenly dive down next to him and behind him, looking to the one on his back.
For a moment more, there was silence. But then, a more angry, gruff voice sounded.
"Don't jus' stand there gapin'! Where the hell's the damn first aid kit?!"
"First aid kit?!" The first voice called back. "Get the second, third, fourth, and fifth aid kit while you're at it! And how about a mortician?"
Cloud grit his teeth as his senses fully began to come back. He began to reach for his straps. "Shut up, Yuffie…" He groaned. "Help get him off me. If we have any painkillers of any kind on this damn plane, then for God's sake give them to him."
Cloud continued to try to work the straps to get them off. However, it wasn't long before much weaker and smoother hands began to aid him. Aerith was the first to come to his aid. Not long after, however, he felt Tifa join in, and more of the soldiers team up as well. They finally managed to take the straps off afterward, and Cloud pulled himself away from the youth. Those around him, Aerith especially, gently supported him and began to lie him down on the floor. Cloud turned around, and got his first good look at Ragnar in quite a while. He had forgotten how bad he looked. Even with wounds clotted, it was pale and shivering.
"This floor's as cold as ice. Can't we set him anywhere else?" Cloud asked.
"Not on board a military plane." One of the soldiers responded as he lowered next to him. "Thank God for all that cold weather. Looks like all of his wounds froze into clotting…"
"Then do we have anything to wrap him up in?"
"Got you covered here."
"Bring that kit over here already! See if there's anything useful in there besides gauze!"
Aerith, on her part, didn't explain herself as she bent over and closed her eyes. She extended her hands over the youth and immediately began to go to work. A few of the soldiers were put off by this, wondering how she was accomplishing this or what strange thing she was doing. But Cloud kept them on task and kept them working.
Aerith worked tirelessly and unceasingly to try and heal the youth. But all she could do was solidify some of his scabs and stimulate the beginnings of healing. The sheer volume of Ragnar's injuries made it impossible to heal him with Aerith's powers. However, even if they weren't, Cloud knew well that Sephiroth knew how to cut someone. Each strike had been made in mind of keeping him from clotting, so it would continue to leech him. That was why Tifa had been bedridden for days after Sephiroth had slashed her when she was younger, and why her master had to almost continuously generate cure magic before she finally was able to heal. This only further made him suspicious of Bahamut's involvement. There was no other way these wounds would have clotted so fast.
Everyone, Wutai soldiers included, stripped off their coats to make a sort of mattress for Ragnar, so pathetic looking was his condition. They didn't care that the cargo bay itself was not well heated for passengers. There was one thermal blanket in the first aid kit, and they draped Ragnar up to his neck in it. After that, they exhausted the supplies in the kit to care for as many injuries as they could. Some had ripped back open during the flight from the Dome, and some were bloody bruises that didn't clot like the cuts. As Ragnar stopped shivering, he began to cough. Each time blood came up with it. This was all that would make Aerith pause in her healing, only long enough to wipe the blood from his mouth with the sleeve of her own uniform. Cloud watched and saw her stay bent down low next to him…and saw her eyes filling with tears each time he remarked in pain and agony. He kept this in mind for now, but said nothing.
After Ragnar had been stable for a few minutes, and the only one left was Aerith trying to heal him, though her own ability was drained by now and she was mostly just sweating over him at this point, one of the Wutai soldiers moved to give him an injection of an epinephrine derivative. The higher spy soldiers kept such things on them for emergencies. Straight epinephrine would have been fatal, but this was milder. They figured he needed it although it would keep him awake and possibly retard his healing…because he had to live long enough to get proper help and a transfusion of blood. One spy finally came forward and stretched out Ragnar's pale limb to do this. At this point, most of the others had buckled themselves in. However, Barret, Tifa, Cloud himself, and Aerith stayed at his side as he lay on the ground. Yuffie would have come too…but it wouldn't do Ragnar any good for her to get sick and vomit on him.
After finding the right spot and injecting the fluid, the person backed off and let the others stay around him. They had done all they could for now until they could get him back to a real medical center. Cloud turned with anxious eyes to Ragnar's face after receiving the injection. Aerith herself cupped his head in her hands, and slowly and nervously breathed. However, after only a few seconds, Ragnar reacted. One of his eyes was beaten shut, but the other opened, and he stiffened as he took in a deep breath of air.
Cloud immediately put a hand down on his chest and pushed him back against the coats he rested on. "Stay down, Ragnar. You're in bad shape."
His eye held open wide a moment, but then began to lower again. He continued to stiffen, and started to breathe a bit harder. His eyes looked up and beyond them all. "He…he killed me…" He said aloud again. "He killed me…like Aerith…"
The others may have attributed this to being delirious. However, hearing this gave Cloud more pause than them. Yet no one was concerned with him now. Aerith lowered over his head and placed her forehead on him. She gently began to quiet him, as if it was a mother and a child who had a bad dream. "Shh…it's alright now, Ragnar. You're with us now. You're safe."
Cloud, however, began to wonder if Ragnar was not so much delirious as simply saying the last thing he remembered. The others had neglected to get a good look at the scar on his chest. Cloud hadn't found the youth dead at the feet of Sephiroth either. He found him alone and seemingly left alive by his foe. Again, the ex-mercenary wondered if his "guardian angel" had a hand in this…
Ragnar continued to breathe stiffly, but his one eye opened again and looked over him. He saw Aerith's kind, gentle face leaned over him, and he began to sense her warm, comforting touch against his skin. As he saw this, he began to relax. What he had gone through began to pass. Reality and sanity came back into his eyes, as he began to realize that Aerith was right. He slowly started to realize where he was.
"Am I…dead?"
"No. You're going to be alright." Aerith reassured. "We're going back now."
Cloud, however, leaned in a bit to confirm what he suspected already. "He who, Ragnar? Who did this to you?"
Ragnar paused a moment, still looking up and blankly into the sky. He swallowed once, and winced, probably from the blood he injested or other wounds. Then, his gaze became farther away, and he suddenly looked troubled or weak.
"You were right… Master was right… I was so stupid…" He slowly croaked aloud. "I should never have fought him… I let him get to me… I let him make me feel so weak compared to him…and I was…" He paused here…and then, a bit to their surprise, began to look confused. "But…neither of us are dead… Why did he say one of us had to die?"
The others only got part of this. Aerith appeared to be getting troubled by how he was talking, and so she once again tried to reassure him. "It's all over, Ragnar. Just rest now until we get home."
The youth slowly exhaled, but then lowered his eyelids a bit and relaxed more. It seemed he was too tired to think about these things anyway. As he relaxed, however, Cloud and Tifa alike looked over him. For Cloud, now that his friend was safe, he felt anger beginning to mount in him once again. Though he hadn't said the name, he knew full well who had done this to him. Ragnar hadn't taken his advice and run. He had stood his ground…and this is what had happened to him. Apparently, he wasn't alone in his suspicions.
Tifa looked over Ragnar again, and then turned back to Cloud. "When I fought Sephiroth one on one…he just slashed me once and left me at that. He's been cut all over his body…in a lot of places that wouldn't be fatal…"
Cloud glared down at his motionless body and kept a dark stare.
"…He was torturing him." He grimly answered. "He wasn't making missed strokes in his fight. He was dragging it out and slashing him more and more, filling him with more pain as he went on."
Cloud's fist tightened here as his teeth grit. Tifa noticed this, but said nothing. Cloud remembered well when he and Ragnar had their roles switched. He remembered how Sephiroth had threatened to kill all he loved first. And if it hadn't been for whoever had intervened, there was little doubt in his mind that he would be looking at Ragnar's mutilated corpse and not his mangled body. Sephiroth may have intended Cloud to find him like this…to let him know what he would do to the others. This was, ironically, how Cloud had expected he would eventually end up. This was what he thought his body would look like before Sephiroth left him to try and stand and kill him, as he had threatened. But it had fallen on his friend instead.
Ragnar hadn't been murdered like Aerith…but that did little to lessen the rage he felt at this.
Cloud again swore that day to get revenge.
However, he pushed that dark thought out of his head. Now wasn't the time for it. Instead, he looked back down on Ragnar's body and leaned a bit closer to him. He managed something of a smile.
"It's remarkable you're even here. Not many men have gotten into a fight with Sephiroth and lived to tell about it, Ragnar."
But here…Ragnar at last cracked his own smile. But it was weak and grim, and not one of merriment or happiness. He let out a half chuckle, and shook his head. His voice was weary...and even disappointed with himself.
"No…I'm not a man…I'm a kid."
To be continued...