The Servant: The Aleron Saga

by Piccolo Sky

The untold story of Bahamut. In this fourth installment, Bahamut's triumphant return to Gaia is cut short as he sees visions warning him of a cataclysmic future, one that will test both him and his pupil in a way most unexpected.

54. The Final Dialogue

This is, by far, the longest chapter I have submitted. It's nearly fifty pages long at a font of ten. So unless you have a lot of time to kill, it will take you some time to get through this.

Also, given the subject matter, I'm upping the rating to 'M' for this chapter.

---

Exactly what were they trying to do here? And did they succeed or fail?

General Leers had no answer to this as he walked about the devastating wreckage within the New Shinra HQ Dome. Right now, he was treading through a hollowed out metal sphere shape in the floor. He saw the worst of it up and to his right…which was a massive, forty foot diameter cylinder that seemed to have been burned through the middle of the Dome and up to the ceiling. The edges were smooth and frictionless, and the metal that had constituted it was either frozen like giant shining icicles dripping off of the edge, or had seeped through the metal workings and gummed up no less than two hundred separate pumps, valves, gears, and other assorted bits of machinery.

Of course, this didn't begin to show the scope of the damage throughout the rest of the interior of the Dome. The current number reported 400+ steam, gas, water, and electric breaches. Of that, only 34 were located where the firefights had taken place when their troops attempted to cut off the escape of the PPA saboteurs. The rest were scattered throughout the interior of the Dome…and looked like they had been either smashed by large animals (if not tanks) or sliced up by blades that could cut steel.

The internal engineers had their work cut out for them. No less than two hundred were in their area alone, erecting scaffolds, cutting power and valves on leaks, and trying to repair the worst damage. Most of them were as bewildered as General Leers as to how to even begin on this. It was rather bright in here at the moment, as brighter temporary industrial lights were being brought in to replace the broken or disconnected ones. The large opening in the side of the Dome…or rather, the bigger of the two…had been covered with tarp by now, so some cold air was cut off from entering as night fell outside. This made it somewhat bearable as the General surveyed this and tried to figure out how it could have happened.

A sharp whistle came from his side. "Man…take a look at this trash pile and you'd be surprised we kicked the butts of the Planet Protector Army this morning."

Leers felt his already present frown dip a bit lower. He turned his head slightly to the side, and his eyes rested on Colonel Maritza. She was surveying this place as well. After all, she was the main architect and engineer of the Dome. It was her responsibility to get it put back together again. However…he couldn't stand how childish she sounded when she answered that. Every day, she seemed more loose and carefree in her tone, and more sloppy and unofficial in her wording.

It didn't help that she was looking…strange. He had spent a good portion of today pouring over her face…but he couldn't see one stroke of an age line or rough complexion. And her hair not only was pure and brown now…but it was healthy. This wasn't some dye… The woman looked no older than thirty, if that was possible…

Yet he ignored that in favor of other thoughts. After all…he wasn't that pleased with her at the moment.

"I want this place fully operational within a month. Not one day more." Leers ordered her.

"Well, therein lies a bit of a problem." Maritza answered, turning to him with her traditional sly smile. "A lot of crew is being diverted to the Gauntlet of Zeus. And even if it wasn't, the barrel's beginning to run a bit dry on resources. We aren't going to get this thing looking back the way it was unless we close the shipyards and the artillery foundries."

Leers clenched his teeth. "If you spent last time acting like some frazzled schoolgirl like you have as of late and more time listening, Colonel…you would have realized I said operational. I know full damn well we can't rebuild this completely. I actually keep account of my tasks and responsibilities…not frit away my time on studying Turks. Perhaps you can devote more of the free time you seem to have so much of to trying to find out what in the world happened here. Have you found anything yet?"

Maritza frowned…although it was in more of a regretful sort of way than one of really caring…and shook her head. "Nope. Can't say we did. Corridors are plenty guarded, but it's impractical to try and post security cameras in the maintenance areas. Most of them are dark anyway. We didn't pick up much with what we got. Just a few cameras being destroyed and some vague objects."

"In that case…" Leers continued as he turned his full body to her. "Did you find any other of their saboteurs? Obviously some of that group had to come in and set some weapon off."

Maritza shook her head again simply. "No signs of any residue. The wreckage we picked up in the reactor room is inconclusive thus far. We were all guessing they'd be taking the reactor. After all, that was where most of the group headed. I guess those two boys who were unaccounted for might have worked a bit of mischief, though as to what it was I haven't a clue."

Leers wanted to slap some sense into the woman. She was treating this so nonchalant. They had been fighting a battle for an hour to divert an invasion, protect the Gauntlet of Zeus, and deal with a legion of saboteurs all at once…and yet some fourth party had managed to turn a good portion of their Dome into a puddle and leave them practically defenseless to a regrouped attack (which fortunately the enemy was not capable of). And all she had to give him was innocent stupid looks for answers and shrugs for explanations of the weapon. It made Leers' temper rise…and made him feel again how he used to be…crushed in this fortress and struggling to get an outlet.

The general wheeled away again and glared at the ground. "Seth was lucky that he had his brains blown out. I would have done worse to him." He hissed. "We have a tip telling us over twenty minutes in advance that twenty spies are coming in to assault our reactor, that several key PPA leaders are with them…including the damn brat who started this whole mess…and he has two divisions under his command…and still he gets himself killed and doesn't eliminate a single important target! The bastards escape in time to watch the fireworks of their damn show!"

Maritza calmly began to walk up behind Leers at this, keeping her confident, sly appearance. "It was a pretty incredible one, you have to admit that." She said as she came closer. "And Seth shouldn't have tried to milk his advantage. Better to bring them in where I could have implemented some of those interrogation devices I've been working so hard on. That's just sloppy thinking on his part. Of course…now any thinking he does will be pretty sloppy, from the way his brains look…"

The colonel was cut off a moment later…and her sly look evaporated into shock as Leers suddenly snapped around and seized her by the neck. Before she could protest or even realize what was happening, she was shoved backward and to the nearest girder. The larger man smashed her body against it and pinned her. His eyes blazed rage, and pierced hers with such might that she recoiled in its wake.

"You had best keep your damn mouth shut unless you want to get the shot meant for him." The general hissed. "I've been entertaining the idea more and more about what one of your acid rounds would do to your pretty little, and progressively less useful, head. Seth may have been in charge of security here…but who was the supposed 'genius' who built the 'flawless' security devices? Who was the one who bragged to me that every contingency was planned? Who was the one whose screening process was supposed to keep a spy from getting so much a position as a latrine digger? Who was the one whose countermeasures were countered one by one to leave me and my army looking like an unprotected laughingstock to the enemy? Seth at least abolished their pride, no thanks to you. If they only had your so-called cunning devices to stop them, they probably would have turned the reactor into a pile of scrap!

"The enemy learned how to counter your precious Weasels. Your unbreakable defense around Midgar was shattered. The Juggernaut has proven useless in keeping them from carrying out land strikes. The Harbingers are fodder for their latest aircraft. Your highly touted Defense Grid didn't keep them from firing off a missile, and had I listened to you and given the Gauntlet of Zeus crew more time then there wouldn't have been a shield to protect them! I followed your orders concerning the Turks and so far have received nothing back from my investment! You are making me wonder more and more frequently why I keep you around at all!"

Leers released Maritza's neck at last here. The woman shrank back a bit and reached a gloved hand to her own throat. She was not choked, but the grip had been hard enough to put her in pain, and probably leave bruises. She continued to cringe as Leers stepped back and glared at her. His voice calmed somewhat, but his anger didn't abate in the least.

"Our army is going to be in dire straits until our ultimate weapon is ready to fire. Until then, we will be cutting back everything that doesn't produce a profit for us. You keep that in mind…and try to make yourself more useful again before I start 'cutting back' on officers."

---

Cloud had been staring at his fists for some time, watching as he tapped his one finger against the knuckle on his opposite hand the whole while. Tifa's warm hand on his shoulder did little to relieve his anxiety and tension. There was little remedy for his, and indeed not for any other member of the army's, misfortune that night. His friend's pitiful condition was only one misfortune that had befallen them.

On arriving back at Midgar to begin the long process of licking their wounds, Cloud, being the active Commander-In-Chief for the PPA, found himself with many duties. Luckily the chain of command had been streamlined enough to keep his workload down to a minimum, and there wasn't much to do that night save try to recover. But he did have the task of assessing the damage. It didn't take long after arriving at the airfield to discover that Operation Gold Strike had been almost as big a failure as Operation Hiccup. The NSA had put up their shield just in time to block the one shot that they managed to get off. It had been murder even getting that far, considering the fact that the Defense Grid was up the entire time. Had the spies succeeded…they would have made it. The ships would have fired the few precious minutes ahead of time to keep the NSA from finishing the shield. But as it was…many pilots had died in vain. Not only them, but a good 40 percent of the WGN was either seriously damaged or destroyed from trying to hold the line while they attempted to carry out the maneuver. Many of the Phoenixes had survived, fortunately, for few had actually made the attack run. But the Sierra and the Excalibur were both ashes. In retrospect, the NSA had sustained only 22 percent serious damage/destruction to their own fleet, which already had superior numbers. No doubt, the Juggernaut had managed to spare the NSN many wounds.

Yet the PPA had high loyalty to their leader, for spirits didn't seem to truly sink until Cloud released the announcement that he would be taking over business of administration for an indefinite time period. Naturally, that required explaining what had befallen their other general. The WGN was further disheartened on learning how many good and valued spies had perished trying to make Operation Hiccup work. Only a few short months ago, things had looked on the upswing. The joint forces of the PPA and WGN looked at the top of the game, and were a formidable force to contend with. But the bitter sting of defeat today did more than prove to them that a cornered lion was at its most dangerous. It had been more painful than a simple slap in the face.

Many places in Midgar were dark and quiet that night. The PPA had in fact lost relatively few soldiers compared to the WGN, but no one was loud or cheery. Their expectation of victory was dashed…and now the threat of instant annihilation represented by the Gauntlet of Zeus loomed darker and nearer than ever. With their loss of leadership, people were only more downcast. Troops mechanically went through their drills. Officers stood preoccupied with sadness and fear, and attempted to think of a way out of this. The highest officers were at a loss, aghast and staring blankly at their own dimmed forces and the might of the enemy, trying to think how to escape this latest fate. The night, darker and colder than many of the latest ones, only served to make spirits sag more. Midgar seemed to return to the bleak, black place it had been when the Shinra Corporation dominated it. Even sounds of talking grew softer and grim.

Word was spreading throughout the PPA barracks about what had befallen General Ragnar. Already, rumors and word of mouth were warping it. The barracks that were farthest from the hospital and the airfield were saying that the general was already dead. Everywhere else, those with faith prayed for him. He was the one who had brought them this far. Without him, they would lose sight of what they were fighting for, and would begin to question why they were even dying here. Fear and sadness were in the air, but there was not yet despair. That might change if things went ill over the next few days. Yet as night drew on and grew later, many officers and smaller troops stayed up and alert, waiting for word of the slightest change in the general's condition. It would be the only good news that they could possibly receive if something changed for the better.

That left Cloud here, in the waiting room for the ER. It was a slow night, ironically, for anyone else besides Ragnar. The rest of their group had their bruises and injuries, but those had been tended well enough. Cloud and Tifa were both already released. Cloud would not have bothered at all had not the medics insisted he come. Could they not see that the kid was infinitely worse off than him? Many of the doctors were surprised to see him alive when he came in, not noticing that his wounds had been sealed off by something. He had faded back into unconsciousness on the way home. Aerith had tensed here. When they arrived, she was panting and covered with sweat…but refusing to stop exhausting her power to make sure that Ragnar stayed alive. He might not have been in danger of dying, but she wasn't willing to take any chances. And it was because of her healing powers that she was not with them right now, but had managed to convince the head surgeon to allow her to come back with them…although at this point she was all but useless for lack of energy.

Resting with his head on his lap was Denzel. He was overjoyed to see Cloud back alright, and the ex-mercenary forced himself to smile for him. However, he soon learned the truth, as did Marlene, whose own head was resting on her father's lap nearby. Unlike him, she had tears staining her cheeks. She had already lost one good friend, and she feared she had lost another. Tifa was on his right, keeping her hand on his back. Cloud marveled at her power, and thought of how it put him to shame. She was not as good friends with Ragnar as he was…and yet the loss would be more than enough to make her weep. Yet she had enough strength for herself and to support him. He thought he should be the one supporting her and the others…and yet he found himself stuck here, staring blankly at the ground…trying not to cry himself.

Barret was on Tifa's other side. He had been a bit beat up, but he had protested more than anyone to get out of being tended, caring more about seeing his daughter and then seeing if Ragnar was alright. Yuffie too was here, and after her initial snide comments on the Gelinka…she was struggling not to show rare genuine emotion again. Both Reeve and Cait Sith were here as well. The former had dropped everything to come here, and would have relieved the robot of his duties. However, the surprisingly-precocial robot proved to be rather devoted as well, and remained. Red XIII sat nearby, curled up on the floor and yet not sleeping…watching his own tail slowly flicker like a dim flame. None of them had seen Aerith since she had vanished with Ragnar into the OR. Cid and Mack would have come…had not both of them had added grief to deal with, and matters that they were forced to deal with before being able to arrive.

Last but not least…Vincent was absent. Cloud had heard the story by now…and it was a sobering reminder of what else this operation had cost them.

Here was where he found himself…his mind replaying again and again how Ragnar looked. In his mind's eye…he could almost see Sephiroth inflicting each stroke on him…and could see him smiling and relishing each mark. There was no doubt in his mind that Sephiroth had been trying to make him feel as much pain as possible. But the kid was as stubborn as Cloud now…an unfortunate trait he passed on. He knew what he had done. He had kept on coming until the end…kept on trying to win. In the end, he had only hurt himself more.

Ever since he had picked his rain-soaked, dirty body up from the gutter and half-dragged him into the Seventh Heaven…Cloud had felt some responsibility for Ragnar. He felt he had some duty to look out for him. The kid was skilled…but he was still young and inexperienced. And he had endured tragedy without bearing the same scars that Cloud had. He was so young and idealistic though…trying to take so much responsibility on himself. He was always trying to be so brave and heroic… It was like seeing a younger…perhaps even less "spoiled" version of himself…

Cloud had not had a real "guy" friend since Zack…not one who he felt truly personal and entwined with… Losing that friend had tore him apart emotionally and mentally.

If he lost Ragnar as well…

"…Cloud."

A gentle voice called the ex-mercenary from his thoughts. It was Tifa. He turned to her, and saw her as she withdrew her hand from his shoulder. She nodded in front of her. He turned and looked, and saw that someone was approaching. At this point, most of the halls in the ER were dark. It was getting late, and visiting hours were long since over. Most of the patients were sleeping. However, the waiting room was still illuminated, and down the hall they could see that the division they were keeping Ragnar in was still lit. They didn't see inside it, but they did see a glow coming from the room he had entered. And now, a balding, mustached doctor in recently changed scrubs was making his way down the hall and toward them.

Cloud and his friends readily stood up as he came nearer. He had to move Denzel off of his lap to do so, letting him sleep. He could always tell him tomorrow. Once up, they drew closer together so that he wouldn't have to speak louder. He came to a halt in front of them a moment later. His face was somewhat hesitant…which Cloud immediately took as a bad sign. However, he didn't seem too grim or downcast. Just tired.

"…The General is sleeping." The man finally said. "He's on a lot of painkillers. He was pretty tough to have not gone into shock on the way back, especially considering his blood loss."

"Is he going to be alright?" Cloud asked, getting right to the quick of the matter.

"He's stable for the moment." The doctor answered. "All of his external wounds have been treated. However, he has numerous fractures all over his body. A large clot has developed in one of his arms from the bone breaking. Luckily it doesn't seem like its blocking the brachial vessels. He's missing three teeth and his jaw is fractured in two places. He might have some skull fractures as well, and we've detected some cerebral trauma." The doctor snorted here and shook his head. "I've never seen anything like this. What happened to him over there?"

Tifa swallowed a bit there. "Well…"

"He was attacked by a beast." Cloud flatly cut off.

The doctor seemed skeptical of that, but continued. "At any rate, we have no idea what the rest of his insides look like yet, but I'm pretty sure given the trauma that he's bleeding internally in at least one place. We need to do some exploratory surgery to find where exactly, but right now he's far too weak to survive even a minor procedure. For now, he's getting transfused. Hopefully by tomorrow or the next day he'll be improved enough and coherent enough to find more information. Yet if internal injuries are minimum, he should recover."

"Can we see him?" Tifa asked.

The doctor ruefully frowned. "I'm afraid at this point you wouldn't get much out of him. He's out like a light. And it is past visiting hours. But hold on for a bit longer and I'll see if you can get back there for a few minutes."

"…Thank you." Cloud forced himself to say after a pause. He wasn't a man who often went around thanking people, but it was appropriate here. And the news was neither as good as he wished nor as bad as he feared. The doctor nodded in response to this, and then turned and began to walk back down the hall. The group was left behind. They turned and looked up to each other for a moment, but then…having nothing better to do for now…turned back and began to return to their old places. Cloud hesitated, but then went with them.

---

The elevator doors to the ER floor slowly opened. The light from the chamber filled the dim and darkened area, but also cast a long shadow on the floor. A moment later, the owner of that shadow slowly stepped forward from the light and out into the hallway, letting the door slowly shut behind him.

The man who emerged looked both old and young…yet more older than younger now. He moved stiffly and grabbed at his chin frequently as if massaging something sore. He coughed once as he gazed out with his large, blue eyes. The power and might within his muscles seemed strained or waned. He was dressed all in high collar clothing, with the collar of a long dark blue coat turned up around his head, masking his white hair that spilled behind him. A wide-brimmed hat was low over him. In one hand, as if he was a visitor who was bringing a treat for a patient, was an old brown paper bag, folded over and supported in the crook of his arm.

The man inhaled and exhaled a few times, surveying the area. The darkness seemed to suit him. There were windows here, but they only exposed the dark streets outside and the few pale yellow lights in the city around the hospital. Still, he appeared to enjoy how secretive and dim everything was. And so, he inhaled one last time, and began to walk forward. Though he wore boots and walked stiffly, the sound of his footsteps failed to leave a single echo. He was like a ghost passing through the halls of this place of both life and death.

It didn't take long before he started seeing the open doors to the main ER chamber. There was a place built into the wall for a receptionist. One was there, leaning lazily against one arm and trying to stay awake through the both slow and depressing night. However, before there, in a larger waiting room, were more people gathered. They were quiet and grim. The television was off, and the magazines were untouched. Yet they were not asleep. They stared out and blankly at the ground, much on their minds and much of that being sorrow. They didn't notice the man at all as he approached. Only when he drew especially near did the youngest woman in their group look up to him. But on seeing just another man, she looked down once again. The man liked it this way. In particular…he did not want a man with rather long, blond, spiky hair to know that he was here. He purposely held back and stopped while he was still facing his back in his own chair at an angle.

There he looked over them a moment. The blond man…a woman with him…a large black man with a gun arm…two children between them…a businessman of sorts with what looked like a cat astride a giant moogle…a fire-red beast...and the youngest woman. None of them paid him any mind as he approached. He turned his blue gaze on them…and the power and force within it seemed to swell as he looked them over and put all of them in his eyes.

He raised two fingers from his side and waved them at them.

"It's late. You need to put the children to bed."

The blond man was the only one who flinched, seeming to shake his head slightly. But the man's power was far more gentle and yet more formidable than the power of the alien Jenova. It did not attempt to seize him by force, but rather moved in like a gentle persuasion. And so, in the end…he reacted as the others did. Quietly and as one, they all rose from where they were. The black man took up the girl in his arms, while the blond man took up the boy. Once they all stood, they silently turned and began to walk out in single file. They moved past the man without giving him another look…but their eyes were half closed and their pupils had seemed to vanish. The man calmly waited as each one passed him and made the way to the elevator. As the cat passed, he waved his finger again…destroying a part of its memory. Once they were all gone, he turned and looked ahead again to the hallway into the ER. He calmly began to walk forward.

The receptionist noticed him as he came. Before she could say a word, Bahamut waved another finger at her, and she immediately fell asleep. He began to reach out mentally as he passed through the doorway and into the hallway. It took little effort for him to search through the halls and find the one he sought. Even now, his mental signature was distinctive. He could sense others more aware around him. One by one, he touched them mentally, and they remembered they had something else to do, or felt an urge to go on break, or something else distracted them. It came down to just the one and a person with an equally unusual signature nearby. For a moment, he reached out to touch her mentally as well…but then, he thought against it, and did nothing. As he walked along, anyone who saw him and became aware of them had his finger waved at them, and immediately they no longer saw him or remembered he was ever there. Because of this, he was unimpeded as he made his way down to the one illuminated room. He finally reached it, and without hesitation he turned into the doorframe and stepped inside.

There, the man came to a stop and looked. There were only two people in here now. One was a young woman…looking worn out from weeping and fear. She was crouched next to the bed in the chamber, resting her upper body on the mattress and yet unable to sleep or look away from the man who was within it.

On seeing the youth in bed himself…the man felt his own throat tighten. He was a broken ruin of a person. Most of his body was covered in bandages. Half of his face was covered with bloodstained gauze. Wires and devices were hooked up all over him, giving out information on electronic displays nearby. A bag of blood was feeding into one of his arms. A clear mask was over his face, helping him to breathe. He looked so small and weak here…even after being cleaned up and bandaged. Even now, the man could sense the injuries still filling his person…the pain that he would be in had not he been filled with drugs.

The woman was aware of him, but she did not react in the slightest. She was too absorbed with looking at him. She probably thought he was another doctor. After surveying the grim body, he looked down to her. His powerful blue eyes focused entirely on her…and they were not as kind or considerate as they might have been. The man, after all…knew much more about this woman than she knew about herself. He stared on a bit longer…but then finally spoke in a slow, powerful voice.

"…You truly love him, don't you?"

Despite the apparent strength in his tone…the words of the man were sweet to the ear and comforting, seeming to seep into one's inmost being. Their very nature loosened tongues and eased fears. The woman looked up somewhat at this, but kept her eyes on the patient. She did not turn.

"I…I don't know." She finally answered.

"Why don't you?"

The woman hesitated here. "I…I can't…I don't understand." She finally said. "I feel…different when I'm around him. He's different…but I don't know if it's love. I love lots of people…but I feel different around him. I don't know if I love him the same way…or what causes it…"

"The world would not be the same without him to you." The man responded.

The woman paused.

"…No, it wouldn't." Another pause. "But…I can say the same about Cloud…or Tifa…or…"

"Can you truly?" The man interrupted.

The woman hesitated yet again. He heard her stay quiet for a long time…but then swallow.

"…No." She finally admitted. "It wouldn't be…exactly the same. I always felt alone before…even with my friends. There was no one who really understood me. No one who could really feel the things I felt. But now…there's him. He's not like me…but…he understands me. He knows more about who…what I am somehow… I've always felt…like I somehow was more knowledgable…or stronger…around other people… Like I was some sort of parent who knew things that the children didn't… But with him…I feel more…more…"

"…Normal?"

"…No. More…together. Less alone. More at ease…" Another pause, which the man patiently waited for. He was intrigued now, and listened carefully.

"…If he dies…I'll feel as alone as I felt when my mother died." She finally admitted. "I'll feel…apart from everyone else. It wasn't until I met him...that I felt…understood…that I felt a companion… I…I…"

Another pause. The woman swallowed, and hesitated as she looked more intently at him again.

"I…I can remember him comforting me the first day I came back… I see him in my dreams… I feel…complete…around him… But no…not just as inside. Outside as well…I guess… I…"

One final pause, and then a sigh.

"…Yes. I do love him."

The man stood there silently for a long time after this, looking over the woman and thinking of her words. The silence in the room was broken only by the beeping of machinery. Yet after a long silence, the man broke it again.

"…Things have now been set into motion. And more things will be set into motion before the night is through. You will fear greatly for him…and what you feel for him now will make you wish to help him. But know this…you will help him best by doing as he says, no matter what he asks of you. In a little while…you will not remember any of this. But inside…I wish you to remember this one thing. Inside his beaten, tortured brain…he loves you just the way you are right now."

Only now, after all this, did the woman finally react. Something struck her, and she began to raise her head and turn it behind her. A moment later, and her fair green eyes met the powerful blue ones of the man. She didn't recognize the face…but the eyes were unmistakable and impossible to forget. She had seen them briefly only one other time…but they burned in her dreams.

"…You…" She began to say.

"Go home and sleep." The man told her. "Tomorrow…he will be fine."

Slowly…the woman's pupils vanished, and her eyelids drooped until she looked as if she was in a dream herself. Her mouth closed, and she obediently stood up from the bedside. The man moved to one side, and allowed her to walk out and back into the hallway. Afterward, she turned and began to go the way her friends had. The man watched her as she left, and then turned his eyes down as she heard her slowly pass away. He stared at the ground for a very long time, mind once again filled with fresh thoughts. Yet she eventually was far enough…and when she was, he looked up again. Slowly and quietly, he reached over to the door and shut it, sealing him and the youth in the room alone.

The man slowly sighed and turned back to the pitiful young man. Again, his mind filled with sadness at the thought of seeing him like this. But still, he managed to walk over to his bedside. Once he was there, he pulled out the brown bag and opened it. He began to reach into it and pull things out. Each one was a dull metal shard. Bit by bit, he pulled it out of the bag and placed it on the mattress. As he pulled out each piece, he arranged each in a special way…putting them together like some puzzle. When he pulled out all of them…they were in the shape of a wild flame.

That done, the man pulled out one last piece…a dull hilt with dull moonstones placed in it. He took the limp hand of the youth and placed the hilt inside it, and then rested it in such a way that it was next to the shards. With that done, he turned back to his head.

The man inhaled deeply, focusing himself. This was it. After hesitating a bit longer, he reached out and placed his hand on the brow of the youth. He closed his own eyes, and focused his power again…bringing all of his mental faculties to bear…

---

"Ragnar, wake up."

The youth's eyes fluttered, and then opened. The pain and agony he had been in, as well as all of his injuries, were gone…like a dream. He couldn't even remember being in pain now. He remembered little of anything at first…only knew that he was here and that somehow being here felt good. He leaned up from where he was resting, and looked down over himself. He didn't recognize the attire he was in, but it was something that hadn't been worn since the days when humans still visited Terratopolis on special occasions. As such, it was old and regal, but it fit perfectly and felt nice. After that, he began to look around himself.

To his confusion…he was in a forest…very old and ancient. The trees were tall, and the edges of their roots strung out everywhere. He had been resting against a crook in the earth made by two ridges of roots. The ground had some sort of light soft grass growing periodically through the breaks in the tree canopy. However, the whole place itself seemed ethereal and dreamlike. Everything was in a pale gray-blue light. A mist hung low over the forest, fogging everything up that went too far. Ragnar began to recognize it. It was the Sleeping Forest. It puzzled him again. The forest, when asleep, was supposed to make non-Cetra tired and drowsy until there was no way to find their way out of the woods again. But Ragnar had never felt that way, just as he didn't now…

"Here."

The youth turned his head, and rested his eyes on the only other person in the forest save him. However, this one was standing, and looked tall, strong, and regal. Ragnar had never seen the Lord of All Espers in his full attire as a human, but he did now. He was dressed in resplendiant robes, shimmering and regal. The seven spired crown rested on his head. His look was powerful and wise, as it always was, and was looking down on the youth as he awoke in this strange and enchanted place.

Yet on seeing him, Ragnar was instantly alert. He came to his feet as he felt his heart and mind fill with surprise and joy. "Master Bahamut…" He began.

The esper held up a hand to stop him here, however. "Before we go any further, Ragnar…try to remember what happened to you last. I know full well that you don't know how you got here, and probably haven't had the notion to try and figure out why."

Ragnar paused here, looking confused. What was he doing here? Well…why should he not be here? It felt right to be here. However…as he thought of this…he began to stumble on the fate of all dreamers. When someone first begins to have a dream, they do not care of why they arrived where they were, or how they got there. But when they realize something is wrong…logic takes over and they begin to think back. They begin to realize that it didn't make sense for them to be here…or to not know how they arrived here…

Such it was with Ragnar. He began to think back to the Dome…back to where he had been separated from his friends…back to Sephiroth. He remembered going through agony and torture as he tried to fight him…and ultimately…being run through. But…was that not real? He expected to be dead…but he remembered his friends…he remembered Aerith…he even remembered talking… He remembered Cloud's voice assuring him that he wasn't dead… And yet…now, he realized, he found himself here…free of pain or fear or anything else…

The realization filled him with sudden fear, and he turned back to his master.

"Am I…dead?"

Bahamut shook his head slowly. "Not at all, Ragnar. You're just convening with me, and I've removed from your memory thoughts of pain and injury."

Ragnar hesitated again. He looked around himself…around the deep, quiet forest…and then down at himself. He thought of Bahamut's words, and finally turned back to him.

"…This isn't real?"

"Our dialogue is most certainly real…but the rest of this world is an illusion." Bahamut explained. "In reality, you are in the hospital of Midgar, beginning the long, slow process of healing from the injuries that Sephiroth gave you. Yet I have come to visit you. I have entered into your mind and conjured an illusion to make you think that you are speaking to me. Likewise, I am also conjuring an illusion of me responding to you, and of you imagining that you are hearing me reply. It is all rather backward…but sufficient for me to talk with you here."

Ragnar paused for a moment at this. This was a lot to take in, and leaving him confused. But as he looked down at himself and saw his body clean and flawless…he slowly began to realize how it couldn't be real. And neither could this forest…which was unfortunately still in the hands of the New Shinra Army. Something within him told him it was fake…that there was no natural aura to this place as there was when he went out with Aerith. He thought back to where he really was…in a weak, broken cast of flesh…covered with injuries… Yet thinking back to that brought back a stronger, more vivid memory…

The memory of steel in his chest…

The memory of his heart stopping…

That was no dream. It was tangible and concrete. He realized it had to have happened. But if that was the case…then…

Ragnar looked back up to Bahamut. "You… You saved my life, didn't you?"

Bahamut swallowed once, and slowly exhaled, bowing his head.

That was all Ragnar needed to know. He turned away…and actually began to clutch at his own chest. It didn't matter that even now, Bahamut was erasing the memories. He couldn't erase everything…and he knew that there had been a sword in his chest.

"I…I was going to die." Ragnar announced aloud. "He was going to kill me…he did kill me."

Bahamut still said nothing.

Ragnar closed his eyes and sighed, and then dropped down to the ground. He drew in his knees close to him and put his arms around them, and put his head down on top.

"…You were right, master. You were always right." He slowly moaned. "You tried to warn me…Cloud tried to warn me…but I didn't listen. I let him get to me. I let him make me feel so weak and small… I should be dead…I would have been dead if I was anyone else. I-"

"I'm sorry, Ragnar."

Ragnar froze here. He looked up again and turned back to Bahamut. To his surprise, the tall and regal-looking esper had turned grim. He was sighing now, and turning to sit on the ground next to him. He too looked disappointed with himself.

"Sorry?" Ragnar asked. "Sorry for what? I knew you said you wouldn't interfere. And I'd be dead if you hadn't helped me. I don't-"

"I could have spared you much pain if I had saved you sooner." Bahamut continued. "I should have dropped in and scooped you out the moment that he opened the trap door beneath you. But I let you engage in that battle. I let you start crying out in agony before I finally moved. And had I been a few moments slower, you would now be dead."

The youth paused here a moment. Bahamut…did have a point. Ragnar would be lying if he didn't think that Bahamut should have rescued him a long time ago, and he wasn't angry that he hadn't saved him sooner if he planned on coming. But then again…Ragnar knew he was supposed to be mature and responsible for himself and his own actions. He was the one who insisted on fighting Sephiroth in the end. He had wanted to play with fire…he couldn't blame Bahamut for letting himself get burned. In fact…the thought that it was Bahamut who had to save him made Ragnar feel even more disappointed with himself and his progress.

Something else, however, was mixed in with all of that. How did Bahamut know that Sephiroth had dropped him through a trap door?

Ragnar frowned and turned away from Bahamut, shaking his head. "It's still my fault, master. You wouldn't have had to come if I had run…if I had listened to you. But I wanted revenge for what he did to my friends and my army. I…I wanted to beat him myself. And I didn't listen to you…I didn't imagine that he would be that strong. I risked my life for nothing." The youth hesitated, and then snorted. He shook his head and bowed it lower.

"Some 'chosen one' I'm turning out to be. Things have just gotten worse since I stepped in. We're going to be obliterated in a few months now that my operation to destroy the Gauntlet of Zeus blew up in my face. We would have been dead months ago if it wasn't for the Wutai Gold Navy. Now I can't even defend the people I care about… I'll be crippled up through when the weapon fires on us… In the meantime, who knows what Sephiroth will be doing. Maybe he'll be hurting the rest of my friends…or killing them…"

Bahamut looked up a bit and turned to Ragnar slightly at this.

"…Recounting your past failures in this manner will do little to give you incentive to overcome future problems."

Ragnar kept his frown. "Maybe I shouldn't try to overcome future problems…"

"This is your war, and your responsibility."

"A responsibility that I'm failing at." Ragnar retorted. "Everyone who dies because of a mistake I made in leadership puts their death on my conscience. And lately all I've been doing is getting myself and other people hurt."

"Again, we are reminded of why I wished for you to wait before you assumed a position of leadership." Bahamut simply answered. "But that means little now. You are the Planet's Chosen One, Ragnar. And much is still required of you. You cannot quit so late at this point in the game. The real challenges are just beginning."

Ragnar's expression didn't look comforted by this. He sighed and bowed his head even more, turning his eyes to the ground and propping his forehead up on his knees. He inhaled and exhaled slowly. He felt colder all of the sudden…and cringed in on himself. He swallowed. He thought back to Sephiroth once again…and back to the feeling in his chest. As he swallowed…he could almost imagine it lodged in his chest…blocking the movement…

"…I'm scared, master."

Bahamut fully turned his attention to Ragnar at this.

"I've felt healthy fear before…but now I'm feeling real fear." Ragnar went on. "I'm scared my friends are going to die. I'm scared that I can't do this. I'm scared that all I'll end up doing is sentencing everyone in Midgar and Wutai to death. I'm scared…that I'm going to not be able to protect Aerith.

"Most of all, though…I'm scared of him." He admitted, after pausing and choking it out. "I've never been so close to dying before. I never knew how painful…how cold it was… Every time I think of him…I keep thinking of him hurting me…stabbing me through the chest… I actually felt my life stopping…my own flesh turning cold… I used to only feel anger and hate for him…but all that he did with my anger was make it go back on myself. It didn't help me in the end. Now all I can think of is pain and death when I see him…"

Bahamut again said nothing, and showed nothing. Ragnar looked over to him, looking rather small and innocent again…much as he did when Bahamut first met him.

"I don't know if you think I'm a coward, master. Maybe I am…because Cloud is able to look at him without backing down or showing any fear. Even Aerith was able to forgive Azure. But me…" He hesitated and swallowed. "I could be brave on the battlefield…but I can't be brave now. I've never…been scared like this before. And everything I do keeps failing…"

The youth sighed and looked back out again. "…I can't help but think the Planet made a mistake when it picked me." He admitted after a long pause. "I mean…what kind of hero am I? I don't even know what I'm supposed to do as a 'chosen one' or whatever… And am I supposed to feel this unsure? This scared?"

Ragnar kept himself drawn inward for a moment after this, and there was silence between the two of them. Bahamut watched him for a short while. His own look didn't change. In the end, he looked outward as well, and leaned back a bit more. Ragnar said nothing, and didn't even acknowledge this. He kept his head down and his face worried.

"…Not too long ago, I might have struck you in order to snap you out of this spiral of despair you find yourself in right now." The esper finally said. "No matter what else is considered, you're far braver and nobler than many other members of your species. And though you face incredible opposition, your thinking seems to be the greatest obstacle to your success right now. Fear is natural. It is how you react to that fear that matters, just as your reactions to all things that happen in your life and not the events themselves matter. You're letting your fear and despair sink you into greater depression and feelings of worthlessness. You have already done much 'right' in this world. If nothing else, you gave the rest of your species a chance against the New Shinra, rather than let them sit idly by until they came for them.

"I chose the right person when I came to you that one day. I know it. Yours was the face I saw in my vision, unmistakable with any other's. But even if I had no face to go with I already know by your spirit that you are one of the exceptions to the few. You are one of the people of this world who stands out from the midst of all the others. You have your faults, but you have your virtues as well. And those will bear their fruit in time."

The esper turned his head to Ragnar after this. This caused the youth, who hadn't changed that much in reaction to Bahamut's words, to look up and over to him. However, as he looked at his master…he saw something that made him forget about his own self-loathing. Suddenly…Bahamut looked very troubled and uncertain. He appeared to hesitate, and when he did resolve himself he still looked wary and cautious.

"…But there is a far greater reason that should let you know, without a doubt, that you are the Chosen One of this Planet." He began. "It is a reason I did not know of myself for quite some time…and when I did discover it in my visions I did not wish to tell you. This knowledge will be bittersweet. However, it must also serve to let you know that you were not meant to pass into the shadows of history, but that you are destined to carry on a great tradition in this world."

This, however, only made Ragnar look confused. "I…I don't understand…"

Bahamut hesitated a bit longer, but then raised his head straight. When he did, Ragnar saw that the unease and uncertainty had vanished from him. Now, he was powerful and resolute, as he always was.

"I would ask you if you would wish to hear this, Ragnar. But I doubt you would say no anyway. Irregardless, you must know this. I possibly should have told you this earlier, but there is no time for regrets now. You must know the truth as I now know the truth." The esper paused here again, and then focused his own powerful eyes in Ragnar's. The look was so strong it made the youth draw back a bit again.

"You must know about your father."

This was a big surprise to Ragnar. He never expected that to come from anywhere. And yet…it would make sense. If it had something to do with his destiny from birth…wouldn't it possibly have to do with his father? But that brought something else to mind. He had never known anything about his dad before. His mother had refused to tell him anything. Yet now…it looked as if Bahamut knew. And that turned Ragnar's surprise into enthusiasm.

"You know about my father?"

Bahamut paused at this…seeming to not agree with Ragnar's enthusiasm. "…I do." He responded. "It was not easy…but I tracked down the memories of those still living, the clues from things that have been affected, the lingering visions of those in the Lifestream, and have pieced together the rest of the story from there. I believe I now have all of it."

"Then tell me!" Ragnar excitedly threw in.

Again…the esper seemed to disagree with this. He seemed dark and somber…actually making some of Ragnar's enthusiasm fade. But it didn't last. He wanted to know about his father desperately. With his mom dead, no one would ever be there to tell him. This was his only chance to learn.

"So be it." Bahamut said, as he raised a hand and waved around him.

Abruptly…the gray in the world deepened, and began to turn dark. The mists closed in on Ragnar and Bahamut, and the shadows grew longer. Ragnar looked around at this, snapping out of his thoughts and instead focusing on what was happening. As he watched…all light went out. Both he and Bahamut were swallowed up into the growing darkness. The trees faded, as did the sky, the mist, the ground, and everything else. The world turned into an empty black mass…and he and Bahamut vanished into it as well. There was nothing anywhere. No sensations…no wind…no feelings…nothing.

But then…it suddenly began to come back. Only this time, as it faded in, it was far dimmer…more enclosed…and full of different shapes…

---

A knock was heard at the doorway of the small office/briefing room. Unlike the doors that would be installed in the future, this one in the Shinra HQ Building had knobs, and could still be opened by regular keys. It wouldn't be for years yet that the card readers would be installed, or that they would slide open or shut at the whim of who was within.

Aside from that, the room was dark and metallic. Only the most basic white fluorescent lights hung overhead. In the center was a simple metal table and a chair at either end of it. A few files were on the table, but most of the other equipment in the room was at the feet of the man who was seated opposite the door. He was somewhat young in years yet, but he showed signs of having been much older than his time…and with looks far darker than a normal man should have been capable of. He was simply attired, much like the room. A simple black suit and tie…somewhat oriental features with long black hair slicked back…and the only other distinctive marking being a mole right in the middle of his brow.

What…what is this? Where am I? Why can't I see myself?

You're looking into a memory, Ragnar. We cannot interact with the things here. This was recreated from what I learned and what I was able to draw from the spirits of the Lifestream.

What is this place?

The Shinra HQ Building. This is many years before Meteor or Sephiroth growing evil. But it is here that the story begins…

"Come in." He sounded.

The knob turned, and moments later the door swung open. One might expect a man who looked somewhat important to be entertaining some higher level guest. But he wasn't. The person who appeared in the door frame was nothing more than a basic Shinra Inc. Army grunt. Typical blue uniform…helmet covering half of his facial features…and only a few decorations that would be appropriate to a private. Nevertheless, he knew his duty. As soon as he was in, he stood upright and crossed his arms behind him.

"You wished to see me, sir?"

"Yes." The other responded. "Come on in. Sit down. Consider yourself at ease."

The private nodded, and then walked forward to the chair. He was behaving himself well enough…but a closer look revealed that he had some anxiety about him. It seemed he was wondering why he was here, or what he was doing here. Once he was in the chair, he sat and leaned back, becoming straight and tall.

"By all means…remove your helmet." The dark suit addressed as he turned down to his first file.

The private hesitated again here. But in the end, considering this more of an order than a request, he reached up and undid his strap. Slowly, and almost hesitating, he put his hands up on the sides of his helmet and pulled up on it.

The man beneath couldn't be older than thirty, but he too looked old before his time. In the era prior to mako enhancements and Jenova cells, soldiers became rough and scarred. And though the war between Wutai and Shinra Inc. was still about a decade away, there was enough action for those soldiers to stay dirty and bloody. His jaw was square and hard set, and his eyes were a stunning blue looking down a sharp nose. He was graced with a bit of stubble and a head of unkept dirty blond hair.

Who's this person?

Shh. You'll find out. Pay attention to what they say.

The dark suit had opened his file to the first page, and was looking over it now. Although he didn't look up, he soon began to speak.

"Private…Siegfried, was it?"

The man shifted a bit at that. Without his helmet, he looked a bit more nervous, and seemed to wince a bit.

"…I prefer Serge. Or Sky." He answered after a moment. "That's what my unit calls me, sir."

"You have little need to call me, 'sir'. I'm not affiliated with the Shinra Corporation Army." The dark suit responded as he continued to look at the file and page through it. "For our purposes, Mr. Tseng will suffice. Well then, Private Serge…I don't suppose you have any idea why you're in here?"

The man hesitated again. Once more, he looked a bit nervous. However, he managed to swallow it back, and seemed pretty stoic in the end when he answered. "I have…I mean, I don't know, sir…Mr. Tseng."

"I suppose you recall the visit you had to the doctor the other week, correct?"

Serge hesitated again at this. Some nameless fear went through him, but then passed as he nodded. "Yes sir."

"It mostly has to do with that." Tseng answered.

Tseng…is that the same Tseng that…?

Yes. This is Tseng of the Turks. He's been with them for a very long time, as you can guess from this. And this is partially his memory…or rather, what his spirit was willing to give up now that he is dead.

What do they mean by the doctor's visit?

A few years before this conversation happened, the Shinra Corporation's Science Division came under leadership of a rather unscrupulous, mad, and monstrous wretch of a human…following the mysterious 'disappearance' of Professor Gast…

…Hojo.

Correct again. It wasn't long before he began to plan new and more monstrous ideas. This was one of them. A week and a half ago, on his recommendation, the generals of the Shinra army ordered all personnel to have an unscheduled blood test. What none of them knew was that it was Hojo effectively getting the DNA sequence of everyone in the army. That had a purpose…and you will shortly hear it…

"Says here you're moving on to the next stage of your life… Wife…child…"

"…We aren't married…yet…sir."

"You ever even seen this kid of yours?"

"…I'm stationed here, overseas. I couldn't afford to have her move here, especially not with a child, sir."

"There's plenty of lower priced accommodations below the plate."

"…With all due respect, sir…I wouldn't live under the plate of Midgar if I was paid to do so."

Tseng cracked a smile at that. "Are you not satisfied with the conditions that come with mako energy, Private? Are you expressing displeasure at the practices of your company?"

The man stiffened a bit here. "That's not what I meant… There's…other factors besides-"

"Relax, private." Tseng cut off in a more casual tone. "I told you I'm not one of their employees. I'm just hired help. And frankly…the lower plate is a cesspool. I gag every time I have to go down there…" The man paused here, and a frown passed over his face. "…Which is increasingly often due to a certain person…" The frown passed, and he shook his head. "But that's not important. The point is that your term of service is nearly up, and you're going to be going home in about a week."

"Yes sir."

"After that, however…you will likely be headed right back here on another term of service."

"…Not if I could help it, sir."

"I seriously doubt you can 'help it', Private. Gongaga's guard is almost entirely phased out. With the mako reactor finished, there's no need to stay there. Unless a war breaks out, like it's been threatening, there will be no need to post any Shinra guard in that city. And if war did break out, there would be a guard for maybe two years before the war ended and the place would be dead again.

"If you're looking for other work, then your options are limited. Since logging operations have been opened in the Midgar area, most of Gongaga's source of income has plummeted. Jobs doing heavy labor would be hard, if not impossible, to find. Even if you did, you could expect rather high insurance rates considering the amount of danger in logging that swamp, not to mention the beasts that inhabit the surrounding area. Of course…you could try doing a trade, but you have no special skills and you have to compete with an already full market in your hometown. There are no other cities offering adequate work for over a hundred miles.

"When you signed on under your current contract, you claimed only two dependants, yourself and your bride-to-be. Now that check will have to go three ways. The pension that we are giving you on your end of tenure is designed to give the necessities of life for two people. Out of that will have to go immunization shots, school tuition, new clothes, etc. In addition, that runs out after five years. So for five years you could be living well below the poverty line trying to make ends meet, and your odds are more than likely that any job you can find will be minimum wage. You'll likely have to work at least two with your wife…or other, whichever you prefer…working one as well. If that wasn't enough, only you and your other are on our health insurance plan. The child is not. Not that it will matter in five years.

"About the only thing you will be able to do, Private, is sign up on another contract with additions made for your new family member. In between contracts, you'll have only a three month grace period before shipping out and not seeing your child for another five years. No doubt…you and your other will have some…'catching up', so to speak…to do over the next three months. By the time you come back, it's perfectly likely that your first boy will be well on his way to having a little sister…causing the dilemma to start all over again. Your wife-to-be has likely been struggling already with what little amount has come in. So as you can see, your future looks rather bleak."

Serge had been listening to this tale slowly get rattled out…and the whole time he had been looking more and more uncomfortable. It was likely that he had thought of these things many times before, and had spent some sleepless nights thinking about them.

"…This is a worst case scenario, sir."

"It's actually a 'best chance' scenario, private." Tseng corrected, a bit sharply. "It's already happened to over 63 percent of the overseas employees in the Shinra Army. And the President, who, by the way, we both know is the biggest skinflint this side of the ocean, has recently invested some funds into a committee designed to calculate how much of the pay he can cut from overseas employees and still force them to work for him as the only way to sustain themselves."

Tseng turned a page on the file, still looking at the increasingly uncomfortable private. "My point to all of this, private, is to make you aware of exactly what kind of straits you find yourself in. A sort of man like yourself should be up for other options. And a man like yourself should also know a good deal when he sees one, and takes that opportunity."

With that, Tseng took the top sheet off of the file and slid it over to Serge. The private hesitated a moment, looking down in surprise at this sudden action but also hesitating. Then, he tentatively reached out and took an edge of it. He pulled it up in front of him and soon began to look it over.

"It's a new contract." Tseng explained. "This is for more of a business transaction than a terms of service. And I think you'll like what it entails."

Serge's eyes read over it, in particular the large items. As they did…his eyes began to widen.

"One…one…"

"Yes, one hundred thousand gil a year, tax free, for the next forty years." Tseng cut off. "But don't forget the benefits. Complete health coverage for you, your fiancée, your child, and any future children you might have. Five hundred thousand gil life insurance coverage for you and your other, with one hundred thousand gil policies for each child. Two hundred and fifty thousand gil bonus for moving transactions if you wish to leave Nibelheim and purchase a new home. Tax exemption on all Shinra products. And finally, two four-year fifty thousand gil scholarships for entering Midgar's finest universities. Take you pick of which one."

Serge was aghast. His eyes lit up as if he was observing his entire future before him, which he likely was. However, it only went a few moments. Then his expression began to falter a bit again, and the contract was slowly lowered back to the table. He was beginning to assume, and rightly so, that such a package would only come at one rather steep price. And the thought of that made some of his worry come back.

"…I'd say I do know a good deal when I see one, sir. But I haven't seen all of this deal yet, and so I can't tell whether it's good or bad. What do I have to give you to earn the right to sign this paper?"

Tseng leaned back a bit. "Not much…if you think about it. I hope you will. For the next part of our discussion, you're going to have to consider what you're hearing classified. Nothing of it leaves this room. Is that understood? Or should I just tear that contract in two right now?"

Serge stiffened a bit at this, and readily shook his head. "N…No sir."

"I thought as much." Tseng answered with a nod. He paused again to gather himself up and fold his hands on the table in front of him. "Private Serge…exactly how much do you know about Jenova?"

Serge paused at this. His brow wrinkled somewhat, and he gave a shrug. "Not much. A few words running around here and there…all doing with technical and biological stuff I don't understand. Doesn't it have something to do with Nibelheim?"

"The original specimen of Jenova is stored there, yes." Tseng answered. "But that matters little. What many people don't realize is that the technology to produce mako reactors and thereby extract the energy of this Planet and convert it into a usable form of power was still far beyond the scope of our research a few years ago. We were barely beginning to understand the fundamentals of atomic properties then. To build a device like a mako reactor was impossible. Many people just assume we came up with it and leave it at that, not caring much for the background that led to its discovery. In all fairness, at this point in history the technology is still too new to have made it very far in the textbooks. However, I am willing to give you a crash course in it.

"Suffice to say, the reason we were able to construct mako reactors was because of Jenova. It is a specimen, presumably an Ancient. I don't suppose you are aware of what the Ancients are. Quite simply, they are a subspecies of human that has the ability to contact and manipulate Planet energy. They were believed to be quite extinct for centuries, and most likely are now. Jenova, however, was preserved. Investigation by the late Professor Gast revealed that Jenova's cells were unlike any other cellular structure ever encountered. He was able to conduct enough cell biology on them to get the basics of how it managed to generate energy, and discovered that it lived off of the power of the Planet rather than harvesting ATP as we do.

"Now…a few years ago, we discovered information and clues to lead us to believe that some Ancient still existed. Since then…we have been very interested in analyzing them and their properties. I am not at liberty, for sake of losing my job, to say why Shinra desires these things, but the latest head of the Science Division has been most insistent about receiving them. To that end, we are here in this room.

"We have confirmed that the last pure blooded Ancient is indeed dead. We have two different human-Ancient hybrids, however. One was synthetic, made using the DNA of the Jenova specimen. However, the head is unconvinced that he will ever manifest the same properties as a modern day specimen. The other…"

"Um…excuse me, sir…" Serge suddenly interrupted. On this last bit, he began to look confused. "You say…you have human-Ancient hybrids…what do you mean by that?"

"One is living in this facility." Tseng answered. "The other is not in our possession, but is being monitored. As I was saying…she was natural born, and until we can confirm that she has manifested-"

"Monitored?" Serge interrupted. "I…thought you said they were human."

"Humans hybridized with a human subspecies." Tseng corrected. "As I was saying…"

"So are they…like…animals or something?" Serge interrupted again.

Tseng looked as if he was getting impatient with this. "You are an animal, private. I am an animal. So that's a rather general term to use. If you mean that these hybrids can reason and think abstractly, yes. In many regards they're superior to humans in that sense."

"So are they…apes?"

Tseng sighed. "Again…that's a misleading term since you and I are both apes. For all intensive purposes, private…Ancients look exactly like humans and behave just like them. I fail to see how this is relevant."

However, this made Serge look rather uncomfortable.

"You talk like they're…lab mice, or something. Like all you care about is whether or not they can do whatever trick you want them to do."

"I am not the head of the Science Department…nor am I a moralist." Tseng simply answered. "I personally am not doing anything to them. The natural born half-Ancient is living a perfectly normal life, and when the time comes she will be asked for assistance in a perfectly rational, forward manner."

"But what about the other one?"

"He owes his very existence to the Shinra. He would not have been born otherwise." Tseng answered. "And he is being brought up in a way to ensure that he's the best he can possibly be mentally and physically. Many other places in the world would give him much less. Private Serge…I did not call you in here to debate what is going on with these individuals. Neither of them are your concern, simply that as part of why we need you that you understand they exist. Now will you please be quiet until I am finished."

Serge looked very hesitant. In the end, after moving his mouth a few more times, he lowered back into his chair. However…it was quite obvious that he wasn't as at ease as he had been moments earlier. Now his anxiety had increased. It suddenly looked as if he didn't want to be there.

Tseng watched him a moment, seeming to pick up on this, but then continued. "Now…the synthetic Ancient lives in this facility and can have every aspect of his development monitored. The natural born Ancient, who our head has a special interest in, does not. She is the one who possesses more contemporary genes. We haven't had much to go on, but the newest subspecies must have hybridized with humans multiple times in the past…no doubt due to a bottleneck from a meteor strike over 3,000 years ago. The result is that their DNA appears far more human like, and yet they seem to have a greater affinity to the Planet than Jenova or the hybrid do. They even feed as you and I do, and yet they still possess the power. We now have reason to believe that Jenova might not have been an Ancient at all, but that this is the true code we seek.

"We need to have a new hybrid…one that we can keep here and raise here and monitor to find out his or her properties. This is where you come in, private."

With this, Tseng reached down next to his chair and grabbed something. He pulled up a moment later and set it on the table. Serge, who looked especially uneasy at that last comment, looked down to what it was. He saw a strange sort of device that fit into the palm of one's hand. It looked like it held something in it, but it was in some sort of metal sheath and so he couldn't see that well. On one end of it was what looked like a needle with a plastic cap covering it, like a syringe only not as long.

"What's that?" Serge asked, his voice wary and now dropping the "sir" title.

"We want something very simple from you, private." Tseng explained. "That DNA test that you participated in was part of a mass screening effort to find who had the most compatible DNA for a special hybridizing experiment. Out of every employee within Shinra…you showed the most promise. It was a risky trial to begin with. There was only a one in five billion chance of finding one at random. We were lucky to end up with you.

"Take this device and go home. You can consider yourself released a few days early from your old contract. Once you get there, you can tell your fiancée about this or you can chose to keep it a secret. In any case, before 'taking her to bed', so to speak, you inject this into the side of your…you know. Wait five minutes, then carry on as normal.

"In addition to hormone derivatives that will trigger an immediate ovulation in your fiancée, the substance will alter your haploid cells in such a way that it will be as if you yourself are a male Ancient. There is an 85 percent chance that this will end in a pregnancy with a fetus that is effectively an Ancient-human hybrid. Once the child is born, we will send a team in to pick him or her up. If you told your wife about this, then she'll know what's going on. If you didn't, then we can provide documents saying that the child was stillborn. After that, you can immediately collect your benefits, and we'll consider the matter closed."

"Closed?" Serge retorted, his volume rising now. As he heard this, his look had grown progressively more surprised...and disgusted. "You want my wife to carry a freakish child for nine months and then just hand it over to you?"

"We figured that there would be some issue regarding that." Tseng calmly answered. "Your DNA is all that is necessary. We've brought several women in this evening, all of whom offer themselves routinely for money, which we are paying at a triple rate. You can take your pick from them, if you like. They've all been screened, and I assure you they don't have any STDs."

The soldier's surprise and growing shock only increased on hearing this. "You guys are really serious about this…" He muttered aloud, leaning back into his chair with a wide-eyed expression. "You actually want me to just produce a freak baby for you to tinker on like some lab monkey… This is crazy…"

"You should reconsider what we're offering." Tseng cut off. He stayed calm and straight. "You don't have to do anything more than you like. All we're asking is for you to give yourself one mildly uncomfortable injection and engage in a simple action for us. Then you can have everything on the contract. We want you to carry out an unusual service that will take one hour of your life at the most, and after doing so you will receive more than ample benefits to make up for the time lost. There will be no records going back to you. Your fiancée need never know what happened. Are whatever notions of morality you have worth giving up your future and that of your family's, all for being unwilling to sacrifice them for a single hour…and live with a clean conscience and a life of poverty? Are you willing to see your children starve, your wife hard labor, and be stuck in a two room shack for the rest of your life because you weren't willing to do the brave, responsible thing for one hour of your life?"

Serge's surprise slowly faded here. His eyes stayed wide open, but he calmed down as Tseng told him these things. He eased back somewhat into his chair. For a while…he stayed silent. His gaze turned off of the man in front of him and to the ground. There he stared…and said nothing.

I don't know how long he sat there enduring this temptation from the devil. No doubt he saw many visions of his family living a prosperous life only to be dimmed by the vision of living a wretched one. His inner demons tormented him endlessly about how quick and easy this could be, and how he could forget it had ever happened.

However, Serge in the end thought probably of what he mentioned earlier. He couldn't bear to have his wife-to-be pregnant with this child for such a long time only to have it carried off to an unknown fate at birth. Even if the incident was covered up, he would still have the deal with the misery that she would feel, and the knowledge that there was an unknown sibling to whoever else would be born into his family.

But more than that…I believe Serge began to realize that a Cetra-human hybrid was still human, and was a thinking, feeling creature. Not only that…but such a being would be his son or daughter. He couldn't hand that over to scientists with a clean conscience. For that reason, he couldn't take Tseng's other offer either. He couldn't even give his seed to a prostitute knowing that his offspring would be doomed to an unknown, but likely horrible, fate. To his credit…he did…at least at first, as you will soon see…have enough morality to know that there was no amount of money or gifts that would be a fitting trade for a life or his good conscience. He chose the right path over the easier one.

After a long pause, however…the wide open eyes of Serge narrowed. His expression grew grim, and he became resolute in appearance. An inner battle seemed to be over, with one clear victor. He looked back up to Tseng, who hadn't changed. He reached up and put a hand on the contract.

With one snap of his wrist, he slid it back over to the suited man's side of the table.

"I'll take my chances working minimum wage." He stated coldly. "And after my contract is up in a few days, I'm through with this company."

Tseng didn't look too troubled by this. He turned his eyes down and looked at the paper that had been slid to him. After a pause, however, he sighed and began to reach out for it.

"You disappoint me, private." He said as he put the contract to one side and then began to flip through the file again. While he was doing so, he spoke again in his calm voice. Only now…a dark edge had appeared on it, one that made Serge lose some of his boldness almost immediately.

"I must tell you, private, it is not my job to go around handing out contracts to peon soldiers. There are corporate yes-men for that. I get hired for far more demanding and dangerous tasks, and when I am hired, I always finish my job. Always. President Shinra is quite the businessman. Being a businessman, he runs into a lot of parties that aren't willing to concede to his deals. My job is to…persuade them…to change their minds."

Tseng stopped turning his pages. He had opened on a new file, with a new picture. Serge looked down to it a moment. He couldn't make it out exactly…but what he could see made him lose the rest of his boldness.

"We need your DNA, private. You're the only one who will work. And there are too few sources for us to have many other options. However…we do have one. The head of the Science Department is working on an alternative form of cloning. Currently, we've been investigating methods to try and clone the synthetic hybrid. It turns out Jenova cells engrain themselves very well in the systems of people who have them injected into them. However, by excising the Ancient DNA and putting in more desirable material, we can probably do the same technique with modern Ancient DNA.

"Of course, it probably wouldn't work with a full grown individual. I know something of science myself and know that mature DNA isn't that good to work with. But on someone much younger…someone only about…say, three or four…and one that possesses your DNA…"

Now…Serge fully recognized the picture. And on doing so, his eyes widened again as he realized what Tseng was insinuating.

Tseng turned his eyes up to the man. They were dangerous now…almost malevolent.

"…Of course…he probably wouldn't go with living the rest of his young life in a white room very well… But that can be changed. I'm sure you're familiar with the terrorist organization from the Mideel area. Do you know how they used to turn children into psychotic killers? They'd put them in a cage…alone…in a dark room…with nothing but a puppy. And the cage bars would be just wide enough for the puppy to put his head out and eat dog food, but not enough for the child to get anything. They wouldn't let the child out…and would give him no food or water…until he killed the dog with his bare hands…or teeth."

Serge's eyes stayed wide…and his teeth slowly began to clench as his hand balled into a fist.

Tseng's voice dropped a bit lower. "Now…first three or four days…the child tries to be brave. But after that…they start seeing how the dog is eating. They start getting jealous. Then they start to get angry. Then…they start to hate it. And after a week or so…once they've broken its neck or, perhaps, ripped its throat out with their teeth…they never have problems killing again…"

The private shot to his feet. He half lunged across the table, his face suddenly turning to rage. In another moment, he would have seized Tseng by the neck and torn his own throat from his neck with his own bare hands…

But Tseng had been expecting this.

Serge only got halfway across the table before he found a cold cylinder pressed against his forehead. He froze there…and though his face was still tight with rage his eyes darted around at what had happened. In the blink of an eye, Tseng had pulled out a handgun from his coat, cocked it, and pressed the barrel against his head. There they stood, with Serge frozen in his position of anger, and Tseng sitting calmly with one arm out holding the gun against his forehead.

"Sit down." The man calmly and sharply ordered.

Serge continued to quiver in anger a moment, now mixed with helpless rage at what had happened. His teeth were clenched, and he wheezed out between them. Sweat from fear and anger poured down his brow. And yet…he was caught. For a moment, it seemed as if he would keep going, and use what life was left in him after being shot in the head to clamp around Tseng's neck with a death grip. But then, with stiff, reluctant movements, he slowly leaned himself back to his seat, and then inched down into it. On landing, he slowly put his arms in front of him and lost some of the anger in his face…but still looked like he had more than enough anger to murder Tseng with his bare hands.

The dark suit, however, calmly returned his gun to his side and sighed.

"There's no need for this, private." He spoke in an easier manner. "I asked you if you were a man who knew a good deal when he saw one. Don't prove to not be. I can be reasonable. I'm perfectly willing to forget your outburst and tear this file in half. All you have to do is be reasonable in return. If you're smart…you'll take this short hour out of your life and leave it at this. If you're not…" Tseng paused here and narrowed his own gaze while slowing his voice.

"…You'll make me your enemy. And my enemy is the last thing you want to be."

Serge was silent at that, although enough worry slipped through to make it clear that he realized how bad his situation was. His look became expressionless, and he stared ahead for a long time. His pause was nearly as long as it had been when he first considered this deal. The whole time, he didn't show anything, and gave no insight into what was going on in his brain.

At last, however, he bowed his head and gave a long, slow sigh.

"…Alright, I'll do it. But on two conditions."

Tseng leaned back a bit more. "I'm listening."

"I don't want to wait until the child is born. I want my first payment sent to my account right now. And I want an hour to decide if I'm going to pick my wife or…someone else."

Tseng gave a shrug. "Very well. If that's how you want it." He put a hand on the contract and slid it back over to the soldier. After that, he reached inside his suit and pulled out a pen, and tossed that over as well. Serge took both. He looked down to the contract after this. Again, he hesitated and swallowed. It was like the devil had given him an agreement for his soul. But then, with stiff and forced movements, he put his hand down on the line and scrawled out his name.

Tseng reached over and took away the contract the moment it was signed, and then slid the injection device over to Serge. He almost recoiled from it, like it was a poisonous viper. But after he paused a moment and stilled himself, he swallowed again and managed to reach over and take it. Once that was done, Tseng pushed away from the table and began to rise.

"The time is now 2213 hours." He announced. "At 2313 hours, both of us will be back in this room and you will provide me with your decision. I'm going to have this cleared."

With that, Tseng began to step out from behind the table and walk around it. Serge sat with his head bowed, slowly inhaling and exhaling, but saying nothing. Tseng kept walking until he was right across from him. Then, without turning his head away from the door, where it was focused, he called out.

"…And I wouldn't try to walk out of this building if I were you."

He kept walking after that, unchanged, reached the door, opened it and passed through, and then shut it again behind him. It echoed loudly as it slammed closed.

Serge himself exhaled a long, low sigh from where he sat. But then, he swallowed, moistened his lips, and stood up from where he was. His own head turned up and his eyes looked out. Only different from before…they now had a look of strong conviction in them…a look that had not been presented to Tseng before but was now showing itself. He paused only long enough to jam the device into his pocket, and then turned for the door as well.

---

As you may have already guessed, Serge had no intention of going along with this deal. However, he realized the seriousness of the situation, and found himself trapped in a rather dangerous position. Tseng, I believe, likely realized he planned to get out of this deal as well, but thought that he had him trapped. At this point in mankind's technology, however, there were only so many ways that one could keep track of another person. And though Serge was simply a private, he still had enough experience and connections to subvert the man at least temporarily.

Serge was stationed as a basic guard in Midgar, and was on a rotating position. He had spent some time guarding the Shinra HQ Building itself, and had gotten to know several other members of the personnel well…including ones that were responsible for the helicopters on the roof. He knew them well enough to get them to bypass certain procedures over his word, and he had taken a course on flying one himself. As he walked out of the room and made his way to the roof of the building, he quickly made up a story in his mind. On the roof, he told them that they had word of intruders fleeing one of the mako reactors, potentially terrorists but likely thieves. They wanted him to fly as a way of "proving his ability" to be a pilot. The crew on the roof was skeptical, but nevertheless made the preparations.

As for Serge, he used the phone on the roof to make a quick call…

---

Serge turned his gaze around the roof as soon as he was done dialing. The wind from both the air and the helicopter tugged fiercely on him, and the sound of the engines running made it hard to hear anything else. But from this position, he could see well enough. The phone on top of the building's roof was in an industrial kiosk sticking out on the side of the helipads. It was meant for emergency use…but anyone who had seen what Serge had been through over the past few minutes knew that he considered this an emergency.

Frequently, he looked back to where he had come in. There was a raised area on the roof that housed the elevators and a few other equipment chambers. After that, there was a hallway of metal and glass that extended out and opened into the main helipads. There were windows here, so that the company of guards that was seated there as well as the air traffic controllers could monitor everything that happened on the field. For now…they were looking rather casual. There were radios in there, but none of them were picking them up. So long as they didn't…he was in the clear. Across from them, stretching on a concrete covered walkway, were the helipads. One of them was already in the air. The other one was idling. They were refueling it and making a few last checks at the moment. It would be ready to go in a moment.

The phone rang once. Then twice. Then three times. All the while, Serge's eyes darted nervously around the field…especially back to the hallway chamber that led back into the building. Any moment…he expected someone to come for him.

He mouthed "pick up" several times, as well as several curse words. He only prayed that the first transfer of money had gone through…

A fourth ring began to go…and then a click.

"Mmm…hello?" A sleepy voice on the other end sounded.

"Miranda?" Serge immediately called out.

Another groan. "Sky…is that you? It's not even five AM… He had a nightmare…"

"Miranda, listen to me." Serge immediately cut off, his tone rushing. "Get out of the house. Get out within the next five minutes. Take our son and go to the ATM at the bank…"

"What? What're you-"

"Miranda, listen to me and do what I say!" Serge cut off with a panicked yell.

The woman on the other end paused at this. It was evident now that she was fully waking up, and was realizing the panic in her fiancé's voice.

"Sky? What's going on?" She spoke in a more alert tone.

"There's no time to explain. I don't know how much time I have or how much you have." Serge looked up and out to the hallway. Still nothing…yet. "Both of you get out of there. You need to leave in five minutes if you can't do it sooner. You know where my gun is?"

"Sky, what…"

"Do you know where my gun is!"

"…Yes, but…"

"Take it with you. You see anyone following you two…shoot them."

"Serge, what the hell is…"

"Get to the bank. Withdraw as much money as you can from the ATM. I just had a huge deposit put in so you should have over a hundred thousand. But if you don't, draw out whatever there is, get the first ride you can out of town, and get out of Gongaga. Go to your mom's old place. I'll be out there as soon as I can but don't wait up for me. Are you going to do this?"

"…Alright. I will if you say so. But…what's happening?"

Serge paused a moment longer and swallowed.

"…If I ever see you again, I'll tell you."

Without another word, he hung up, and prayed that she'd do what he said right now.

Serge turned away from the phone and looked to the hallway. Still nothing, but he saw someone pick up a radio. He didn't want to hang around to see who it was. He turned away from the phone and back to the helicopter. Seeing it gave him his first good news in a while. The crews were backing away. It looked like their work was done. With that in mind, he inhaled deeply, wiped the sweat away from his brow, and then began to walk forward toward it.

Only the air warden still stood there, and turned and approached him as he got nearer. As the wind picked up against him and the noise increased, he saw that the helicopter was already open. He looked like he was suppressing an urge to run forward, push by this man, get in the chopper, and take off, and struggled to keep a straight face. Soon, however, he was up to the air warden, and luckily he was oblivious enough to not pick up on his change of mood. Both came to a halt across from each other.

"Alright, Sky. She's ready." The warden said tiredly. "Although you're asking a lot of me in letting you take her up like this without so much as a word from command."

"I know. And thanks a lot. You're a lifesaver." This last phrase was incredibly genuine. "I owe you one." With that, Serge began to step around him.

Yet he didn't get far. As he began to walk around, the warden put out a hand on his chest and held it.

"Wait a minute. You need to give me your ADN. I can't put you in the air without it."

Serge froze. Sweat began to form again on his temples as he leaned back. He hesitated again and began to look nervous. "Um…command will radio it in. I'm behind schedule and I need to go." He nearly moved once again.

"No, no, no…" The warden stopped, shaking his head and looking tired once more. "The other stuff I could let you by with, but not this, Sky. I don't have a number to stick on you, there's no way the radar doesn't classify you as a UFO. You could get shot down as a bogey."

Serge swallowed again at this. He moistened his lips. "Look…I need to get in the air. I can't wait for them to send it. I remember it though. I'll just tell it to you."

"That ain't any good." The warden answered, shaking his head. "I've got to have documentation of it. Look, this chopper isn't going anywhere. Anyone else comes up and wants it, and I'll tell them it's yours. But it will take five minutes for you to just run back in, go back to your commanding officer…"

As the warden continued to talk, Serge turned his head back and looked to the hallway.

His face turned white.

A troop of ten soldiers led by a major officer was moving into the hall. The red-suited officer was talking to one of the air traffic controllers. However, as he turned around, the officer looked up and, for a moment, their gazes met. Immediately, the officer forgot about the controller and began to push forward. The rest of his troops quickly fell in behind.

Serge's brow exploded into sweat again. At this point, his eyes went wild as panic seized him. He whirled around to the warden, still trying to talk to him, and without another word smashed him in the face as hard as he could. It was a blow fueled by his fear and urgency to escape, and it was strong enough to immediately drop the hapless warden.

The rest of the crew saw this, but it was too late. Serge instantly ran forward, around his fallen body, and to the open helicopter. He nearly jumped in when he reached it and threw himself into the pilot seat. He didn't bother closing the door, buckling in, or putting on the headphones to protect against the deafening sound. He simply began to throw the last few switches that he needed to lift off.

A few moments later, the soldiers came through the door and began to pour out. Only now, motivated by fear, did Serge reach over and slam the door shut as the rotary blades gunned up to full power. His face was still full of panic as he screamed at the chopper to move faster. While he did, the crew backed off, realizing he was taking off, and the soldiers came forward. They quickly formed a line and prepared to fire…

Luckily for Serge, he did not realize how valuable he was, or the cargo he carried. Hojo himself had ordered that he be taken alive if at all possible. And the serum he had took four years of work to perfect. The soldiers were not allowed to fire on him unless there was no other choice.

The officer, however, reached out and stopped them before they could. There was no way they could disable the helicopter without risking blowing it up as well. And that was all the time that Serge needed. Seconds later, his chopper began to lift off from the ground, leaving the rest of the people below helpless to do anything but watch as it pulled up into the sky. Once it was a mere one hundred feet above the roof, the helicopter took off at full speed in one direction, and began to put Midgar behind it as fast as possible.

---

Luck once again was on Serge's side as he left Midgar. Although the Shinra had anti-aircraft technology in place, they were unable to shoot for the same reason that the troops on the roof were unable to. Serge was able to make it out of the city fairly easily.

However, after that things began to go sour. Serge knew how to fly, but not much else. And without confirmation from the ground, he didn't know where he was going in the night sky. He could only vaguely try to go west, back to the Central Continent and to his family.

Yet he wasn't in the air long before something ruined that plan…

---

"This is Shinra Air Command. We repeat: respond immediately."

Serge, his face covered with sweat and his breathing shaky, did nothing of the sort. He kept his eyes outside and on the world around him, looking for any signs of any pursuers or trouble. Though he was relatively safe now, his expression made it look as if he wasn't feeling secure in the least. And of course…he wasn't even thinking of answering the radio.

"Repeat: respond immediately or you will be deemed AWOL."

Serge didn't look like he cared about this either. From the tired sound of the person on the other end of the radio, it was clear that he had been trying to get the private's attention for some time. Yet it seemed as if the private was through with Shinra. His headphones had never been put on, and the interior chamber of the helicopter was left dark. Only a few lights on the console provided any illumination as he struggled to look out the window and look for a change. He was only now making it to the coastline at this point. He still had a long way to go…and he had no idea how much power was left in the chopper…

At that moment, a new voice spoke over the radio…but one far more familiar to Serge.

"Private…pick up the radio and answer me right now."

The voice was unmistakably Tseng's.

The soldier paled again. The voice was a firm order, and sounded as if there would be severe consequences to disobeying it. For a moment…Serge raised his hand and looked like he might answer. But in the end…he forced himself to put his hands back on the controls.

"If you know what's good for you…you'll answer me." The voice warned.

Serge began to quiver, and wiped his sweaty brow again. But still, he refused to answer the radio.

A long pause of silence went by as the man on the other end waited for an answer. When none came, he heard a slow sigh.

"Alright…then how about if you know what's good for your wife and son?"

Serge stiffened here, going rigid.

"By the way…I know you tried to call her."

Serge snapped his head to the radio, his mouth slackening and his eyes widening.

"She didn't get very far." Tseng continued, his voice slow and cruel. "She and your son are alive, for the moment. But we only need the boy if you refuse. Your wife, on the other hand…is totally expendable."

The soldier's face turned to fear, but his eyes blazed with anger. He shot out a hand to the radio, and given another moment he would have yanked it up and yelled at him some obscenity. His expression and body turned into a twisted mix of horror and rage. And yet, even as his hand clamped down on the radio…he hesitated. Some unknown thought went through his brain. He seemed to be thinking this over a moment, seeming to wonder if this might not be some other trick or game. Of course…the fear that it was the truth still ran fresh through his mind, making him tremble all over with terror and dread. His eyes began to shimmer as he forced himself to swallow. His throat tightened as beads of sweat ran down the side of his head. But in the end…he slowly pulled his hand away from the radio.

Again, there was a long pause before hearing another answer.

"Don't believe me?" Tseng answered. "Well, truth be told, she's not here with me at the moment. She's still in Gongaga. But if you're thinking of going to her side, then consider this. That helicopter only has so much fuel in it. If you head straight for Gongaga you'll still splash down some hundred miles away. And I say splash down because you'll still be over the ocean. If you try to go over land, you'll be lucky if you make it right smack dab in the middle of Corel, with nothing but rocks and waste to go over unless you take the paths that I am now calling ahead to have guarded. Costa del Sol is quite watched as well, I assure you. All in all, that means that you're thwarted at every turn. Not to mention the fact that currently you're still on Midgar's radar, and so we know exactly where you are going."

Serge swallowed, his fear beginning to overrun his anger, and realizing that what Tseng said was the truth.

"You're making me lose my patience, Serge. I have my own helicopter ready now and I'm preparing to take off. The head of the Science Division will do what he can with your dead corpse if I can't bring you in any other way. The only way this is going to end painlessly is if you give us what we want. So enjoy the hour lead you have on me and think about that."

The radio turned off.

And Serge, stricken with panic and fear, looked up and out ahead of him and desperately tried to find a way out of this trap.

---

Serge was a soldier, but he was not above fear, especially given the situation. He had heard many stories about what had happened to AWOL soldiers…terrible things the likes of which your friend Cloud finally witnessed on his mission to Nibelheim when he saw the mako pods in the reactor. What more, he had Miranda and his son to worry about. His wits were quickly abandoning him for blind, self-preserving panic. Yet he still possessed enough to realize that even if Tseng was telling the truth about having his family, he was still the prime, preferred target.

He knew that what he said about the fuel was true. Tseng had mentioned having every possible landing spot in range on the Central Continent covered. Landing anywhere on the Eastern Continent was useless. In those days, even Fort Condor was under the watchful eye of Shinra. That left only one distant possibility open…

…Icicle Inn.

…I think you are starting to get the point of my story, Ragnar. But there is more than that, I am afraid…as we come to its climax.

Serge was not able to get the helicopter all the way to Icicle Inn before he was forced to land. In the end, he practically crashed it into a mountainside, although he managed to escape unscathed. The trip took most of the night, and the sun was just starting to rise. He knew that people below had to have heard evidence of what had happened, and they would be looking for him. As dawn approached, he tumbled down the mountain…nearly mad with fear at this point as to his situation…

---

Cold, wet with sweat, and still shaking from the crash…Serge struggled to go down the last part of the steep mountain. Growing more panicked all the time, he had taken a more steep route. He hadn't the sense or control to find a better one. He stumbled over his own feet, and his hands went out and tried to brace himself frequently. By now, they were almost numb with cold, and he himself was feeling the piercing effects. He might have endured it before…but his energy reserves were low and the cold froze the sweat he was covered with.

However, he did stop as he came to the top of a large, snow-covered scree. Here, he hesitated and looked out ahead of him. At the bottom of this scree the mountain ended, and opened into a large valley. And here, nestled in between two mountain chains and blanketed with the eternal snow, was Icicle Inn. The dawn was only now beginning to turn gray. Because of that, the lights were still on…the same lights that had guided him down the mountain to this point. Not only that, but the scree ended on a small space between the mountain and the backs of several log houses, almost a back alley of sorts. He could hide there well.

Serge heard a small noise to his side. It was distant, but distinct. He turned his head, and saw that some two hundred feet away there were a group of hikers. They bore red and white clothing, obviously being a part of some civilian rescue team. And now, they were making their way up a more gradual trail. They were headed for the helicopter that had crashed. Seeing this, Serge paled and panicked again. He turned back to the scree…and recklessly threw himself forward and down the side of it.

For about twenty feet, Serge's body tumbled against rock and snow, driving deep pains into his side and jarring his ankle painfully, spraining it in the process. He cried out in pain, but luckily his cry was muffled as he sank into a pile of snow at the bottom of the scree. It served to cushion his fall and stop him from hurting himself further. However…it also drove ice cold snow into every bare part of his body, sending sharp, biting pain through his skin. The man winced in agony both from his ankle injury as well as the biting pain, and then managed to yank himself up and out of the snow. Half dragging his body, he yanked himself out of the pile and onto more shallow ground. Yet in his haste, he drove forward on his sprained ankle, and nearly cried out again as he did more damage. But he was high on adrenaline, and he managed to get off of it, stumble onto one leg, and then began to hobble out of the snow and to the nearest back of a building. He hunched somewhat against it, and began to make his way along.

Serge's face soon turned into a mixture of confusion as well as panic, for it became obvious that he didn't know what to do next except hide. His breath came out in big white puffs as he made his way along the homes for a few minutes. But as he went around, he saw that there were no real ways to move anywhere else from here, or to any other houses. The only thing he could do was charge out into the wilderness via the ski slopes at the rear of the town. That would do little other than give him a venue for freezing to death. His leg soon began to give him visible agony as well. He began to shudder both from fear as well as cold.

At last, it was too much for him. He slumped against a wall and paused a moment, breathing hard. He calmed down slightly, and seemed to realize that running around like a frightened rabbit was getting him nowhere. Once he caught his breath, he looked up to the rear area of the house he was against. He panted and stared at it a moment, but then managed to push up and get to one foot again. He hobbled over to the door and tried it gently, not wanting to wake up anyone inside. To his surprise, it was unlocked and opened easily. Seeing this, he looked out around himself once more, and then turned back to the now open doorway and dragged himself up and inside.

It was dark in the house, and it only became darker as Serge shut the door as quickly and silently as he could. But it was old…and he winced as he heard it squeak while he shut it. After that, he turned his head forward into the home he now found himself in, and tried to survey it.

Luckily, this house was still completely dimmed. No one was awake in it. Although it was dark on the inside, Serge had been out in darkness and near-darkness for some time now, and his eyes had adjusted. In addition, this house had windows that were covered with heavy curtains, but they were not transparent and the light from the outside, dim as it was, shown a bit through. He had little trouble seeing a vague outline of where he was. There was a window over the door he had come in through, and it illuminated a small entry hall. To his left there was a door. It too looked old, full of nicks and chips and with the paint flaking. It was partially open, and he could look inside to see that it was a simple bathroom. On his right, a set of stairs led a few feet up before turning ninety degrees and going up the rest of the way. He heard an old heater clicking, and it was warm inside. It wasn't quite as warm as one wanted for a house, no doubt to save money on heating, but it was far warmer than outside, and Serge enjoyed it. However, he also realized that opening the door had likely let in a wave of cold air, and that if it made its way upstairs it might awaken whoever was here. With that in mind, Serge slowly began to make it was out of this entry hall and further into the first floor of the home.

It was harder, and noiser, than he would have liked. The floors were old and creaked, and he was hardly able to be silent with his bad foot. He had to settle for making as little noise as possible. The entry hall didn't last long, however, and soon he emerged into a larger area. Ahead of him, he could see large windows letting in a soft glow over what appeared to be a giant room of some sort. This made Serge look confused, likely due to the strange architecture of the house. But as he looked on in this room, he began to notice other things. There were circular arrangements of what looked like fabrics. On the walls, there were linear arrangements of clothing of some sort. There were also stacks of things folded up along the wall in little cubbies. He walked up to one of the circular arrangements and felt. He sensed fabric and some sort of soft, fleece feeling.

His confusion vanished here as he realized where he was. This wasn't just a home. It was a clothing store. The entire first floor had been built into one.

…I know this place…

A sudden noise came from outside. It sounded like someone yelling. Serge turned his head out to the window, but saw nothing. However, it didn't sound like it was too far away. His fear returning, he quickly looked around the store. He soon spotted one of the circular arrangements. It wasn't really a circular arrangement, but rather a ring for hanging clothes on. Seeing it, and seeing that the coats on it hung rather low, he reached forward and made a gap in them. He quickly pushed his way inside, sat in the center, and then pushed it closed once again.

Here, Serge sat down and tried to control his breathing. He was still in pain and shivering at the moment. His eyes looked around fearfully, and he kept an ear open for the outside. Soon, he began to hear more yelling, and then men's voices talking with each other. This talking went on for a few minutes, as he sat there in the darkness. He rested his leg as best he could and continued to wait for a few fateful minutes.

But then…he heard something that made the hair on his spine raise.

Another helicopter motor was approaching.

At this point, Serge was going mad with fear. He realized how intently he was being hunted. Serge had not been part of the operation that slew Aerith's father and made her mother a fugitive, but he had heard rumors of how a whole company of soldiers had ruthlessly smashed their way into each and every house of Icicle Inn trying to track down an "escaped prisoner". He knew he was trapped. His attempts to escape and hide had only managed to leave him caught in this ring of clothing, it being his only protection from the rest of the world. But as his fear seized him, the situation grew worse.

Serge clenched his hands into fists. He tried not to breathe, but he couldn't help it. He was quivering now, and he had to breathe to steady his paralyzing fear. Being a soldier, he was tolerant to a degree of fright. Enough to actually keep acting. But here…with nowhere to run or hide…it was starting to wear away at him. He was losing his control…

"…Is someone down there?"

At last, Serge went silent as he forced himself to turn perfectly rigid. A female's voice from upstairs had sounded. His worst fears were justified. He had woken someone up. He forced himself to stay quiet, trying to turn as silent as the rest of the house, and hoped that whoever he had awoken would go back to sleep.

Yet that wasn't the case. He soon began to hear creaking as someone got up. A bit later, he heard a periodic set of cracks that could only be someone putting weight on a set of old stairs and slowly coming down.

"Hello?"

…That voice sounds familiar…

Serge stayed still and prayed that he wouldn't be found. As he did so, he kept his eyes open and looking out through the one foot gap between the clothes and the floor. His head was turned toward the hallway. As he watched…he began to see a newer, brighter light. It was coming from what he knew to be a flashlight beam, and it abruptly swept around and made for him. Quickly, he yanked his feet up and away from it, praying the woman hadn't seen him move…or the coats slowly rustle.

For a moment, there was a pause. The beam stayed focused right where Serge was. He swallowed and continued to freeze, refusing to breathe. Then…the creaking slowly walked forward, toward where he was hidden. The soldier bit down and didn't move. He even kept his eyes aimed at the ground. As he did…he very slowly saw a set of slippers come into his range of vision, and then stop. The flashlight was still held at the ground.

The soldier didn't dare look up. He tried to become one with the rack and the clothing. Who was looking for him didn't move either. However, as Serge's fear continued to mount, it started to look rather odd that a woman would stand there for so long, her flashlight in the same spot, if she was just searching for something. Serge began to realize this as well…and it filled him with more fear. He watched the slippers a minute longer…and then saw them slowly turn to the side. They were moving a bit slower than one would normally expect…

Seeing this, Serge decided to move. As the feet moved away…he abruptly lunged forward. He shoved the coats out of the way and seemed to explode from the rack. As he burst out, the woman broke into a run. Coming out, he saw her in the darkness for a moment…her long hair flowing back behind her and clad in nothing but a gown and a robe, fleeing away as fast as she could. This movement was prepared. He knew that she knew he was there. She managed to slip by his first lunge, his fingers just brushing her.

But then, he spun around and lunged again. The pain in his ankle was ignored compared to self preservation intent. This time, as he shot out, his hands clamped on her upper back and shoulders, and the force pushed her down. Due to her forward motion, she was unable to stop herself or squirm free before the force of the attacking man forced her to the ground hard. She barely managed to get her arms in front of her before landing to protect her face. But as she fell, Serge slipped off and behind her. He too was unable to hold up long due to his bad leg, and he fell to the ground. As both landed, he did so with his arms fallen across her legs, but still leaving her somewhat free.

The woman immediately tried to drag herself up and away. But Serge, alert and full of adrenaline, was the faster. He lunged over her again, dragging his body up and over her mid-torso. As he did, he reached out and twisted her onto her back so that she couldn't use her arms. He managed to do it as she dragged himself over her, but she wasn't done then. She balled her hands into fists and began to swing at him. One hit his shoulder, doing nothing because of his uniform. The other struck him on the side of the head, and it hurt…but not enough to stop him from pulling himself further up. She began to kick with her legs, but he managed to stretch his out and pin her with his knees after that. He shot out his hands and grabbed her arms by the wrists, and managed to hold her back. Yet even then, he had to work fast…for she drew in a deep breath to scream. Quickly, he forced one arm down, put it under his elbow, and then put his other hand over to clamp down on her mouth. Now, she was totally restrained.

"Don't scream." He warned her in a harsh whisper. "I won't hurt you if you keep quiet and do what I say."

The woman hesitated here. She stopped struggling, and panted beneath his hand. Her eyes were young, large, and beautiful, but they were stricken with fear as they stared at him now. She was a young woman herself, and obviously not very strong to be unable to fight back that effectively. She held for a long time, but then nodded.

Serge slowly exhaled and pulled his hand off of her mouth. On doing so, he exposed her face. It was much softer and more pleasant than his. She was in the prime of her life in terms of personal beauty. The less couth side of Serge found himself staring at that face a moment…and then glancing down at her body. It was a rather shapely figure too. He had barely seen it before when he tried to grab her, but when he remembered, he saw that it was rather nice. Yet he shook that out of his head and looked to her face.

"P-P-Please…don't hurt my daughter…" The woman spoke in a terrified whisper. "T-T-Take the money… We don't have much…but take it and go…"

Serge slowly exhaled and looked on at her. He was silent for the moment as he calmed down.

…Keep in mind, Ragnar, that at this point Serge was a mental wreck. He was still hungry, cold, and in pain. He was running for his life and desperately trying to think of a way to save himself and then save his family. He figured he was trapped here, I believe. He had blown his cover. This woman might have had a phone upstairs, and one call was all it would take in order to doom him. She did, after all, assume he was a thief. The Shinra uniform would do little to change her opinion now, wild and desperate as he looked. And here…he found himself lost. He was trapped here in this room with this woman…scared that he had her pinned and scared to let her go. He was like a frightened rabbit surrounded by rabid wolves that were closing in on him, and any hope of escape or preservation rapidly disappearing.

His mind was filled with horrible images… Experiments… Gunshots… Kidnappings… Murder… Mutant children… A web of death had woven itself around his life and he could find no escape. He felt desperate…wild at this point… There was no escape. They'd kill him as soon as they saw him…unless he did what they wanted…unless he gave them a child. It was like some horrible offering in his mind…the freedom of him and his family in exchange for him giving up his own flesh and blood in some offering to some monstrous demon…

And indeed…this is where some demon did enter Serge's heart…and where a terrible evil entered his mind as he thought of committing a terrible act…and at once in desperation agreed to do so.

Serge's panic suddenly vanished. His face became calmer. He breathed a bit shakily, but he steadied himself. Deep in his eyes…some dark flame burned. He swallowed once, and then drew himself up. Slowly, he got onto his knees and lifted himself partially off of the woman. Then, he removed one arm and reached into his pocket. The woman had an arm free, but didn't struggle. She instead watched and hoped that he would go away.

Slowly…Serge pulled out the injection device from earlier, and began to get it ready.

"…Take off your robe."

---

…No…

…Yes, Ragnar.

…Don't make me see this.

I didn't plan on it…but you had to know it happened.

---

Pulling her robe around herself, cringing in a corner, the woman sobbed fiercely. Both the shame as well as the pain from the act held her now. Ten feet away, right where it had happened and he had released her moments ago, letting her drag herself into that corner and try to hide from him, lay Serge on his back. In one hand…he still held the injection device, now empty. He hadn't taken off his clothing, although his undone pants still hung open. There…blankly staring at the ceiling, fear and panic gone…he lay. His mouth hung slowly open and his eyes, free of terror, looked blankly upward.

He didn't even move for ten minutes.

As the feeling of his lust died down…reality began to settle in. When I first detected Serge's spirit in the Lifestream…it was burning with the same regret and self-hatred he began to feel at this moment as he began to realize the crime he had committed. In his madness and sin, he had committed a horrible atrocity. He had done something he had never believed he would be capable of…never thought that he would dare do. But the true horror was not in that he had just done this…but in the reason why he had done this. He realized now, as he felt the empty device in his hand…that he had given her the hybrid child.

Serge began to think of the contract and his family again. They would be safe now. All he had to do was tell Tseng that this woman was who he wanted. Then he'd have everything…all of the money, the benefits, and peace for the rest of his life. He could just try to forget this time had ever happened, just as Tseng had told him too, and have a happier, better life…

But he realized now, too late, that it would never be that way. This guilt hung about him like a tattoo on his forehead describing the deed he had committed. And even if it hadn't…he would know forever that the price of buying his family's freedom and prosperity had been ruining the life of another woman, of giving her this horrible scar, of handing her over to Shinra scientists… What made his family any more valuable than this woman's? What made his pain, misery, and fear any greater? And who would give this woman any recompense? Who would give her a salary or insurance or any other benefit? And even if they did…what then? What was the price for allowing a man to overpower you and violate you? Could any amount of paper bills or metal coins take away the distress with which she was now scarred?

He realized as well that no matter how well his son did…or any other children he had…he could never look them in the face again without thinking of his "other" child. He could never lie with his own wife in bed again without seeing that woman's crying face begging him to stop. He couldn't say any of the vows at any altar without seeing her body huddled and shivering in a corner. He had become a monster. Even now, the thought of her touch and what he had done sickened him…made him want to kill himself in his anger.

Only now, did he realize, that it would have been better if he had died rather than carry this out. That there was a point in which it would be better to give up one's life in the pursuit of what was right rather than preserve oneself for what was wrong.

Serge finally blinked, the first movement he had done in that entire time. He swallowed again. Then…his hands slowly clenched into fists. Very tight fists. They continued to drive inward even after his knuckles had gone white. In his bare hand…the nails dug into his flesh and drew blood. But in his other hand, the glass portion of the injection device cracked as the metal warped. A new light began to burn in his eyes. A fearless and determined one.

Serge's fear finally abandoned him here, and he no longer was afraid of death. At this point, he vowed to use whatever few minutes of his life that were left in atoning for this crime. He wanted to act in a way that would make his son proud of him if he could see him. He couldn't save himself…he might not be able to save his family either. But he could save this woman from any further pain.

Serge slowly exhaled, and then took the remains of the device and shoved it into his pocket. He fastened his pants again…though he was loathe to touch them after what he had done. Once that was finished, he drew himself back up into a seated position and put his feet beneath him. He pushed up and stood. Strangely…he seemed to be even less effected by his sprain than he was before.

He paused here long enough for one final thing. Slowly…he turned his head back over to the woman in the corner. She was huddling still, not looking to him and not ceasing her crying. He swallowed here again at the memory of his crime.

"…I'm sorry." He said. And though the woman would never truly believe it…it was the most heartfelt thing Serge had ever said before in his life.

After that, the man turned to the front door of the building…to go out and face the world.

---

Icicle Inn's streets were filled with soldiers. No less than twenty were now running around, checking out the alleys, trash cans, dumpsters, and anywhere else that a person could hide without breaking into a house. Each one had guns out, although they still had orders to take alive. The sun had still not cleared the mountains, but the snow was already heavily trampled from their activity. Homes were beginning to wake up and react with fear as they saw them moving around. People went back into their houses and locked their doors, hoping that they wouldn't come anywhere near him.

Tseng himself was at the front of the street, standing between it and the open snowfield behind him, where his own helicopter was. In effect…he blocked off the only real route of escape. The only other option was to go to the Great Glacier area and freeze to death. He looked as if he didn't expect Serge to take that route. Instead, he kept his cold glare forward, slowly turning one way and another to try and see if the AWOL soldier would make a break for it. He had a gun, but he didn't draw it just yet.

Up the street, one of the doors slowly opened. Tseng turned his head to it immediately, and the nearby guards did as well. After all, who was being brave enough to actually go out in the middle of a military operation? The answer was surprising.

Serge slowly walked out from the doorway. He stepped off of the front porch and into the snow a moment later. He hobbled a bit as he did so…but he didn't look panicked or exhausted anymore. In fact…his face was rather cold and firm as well. It showed a surprising amount of fearlessness and determination as he walked boldly out into the street.

A few soldiers raised their weapons. The moment Tseng, who had his eyes entirely focused on Serge, saw this out of the corner of his eye, he rose a hand signaling them to hold. They did so, although they quickly moved in to hem the soldier in on their side. The other troops soon saw this, and turned to do the same. Serge, on his part, continued to walk until he was in the middle of the street. Once there, he turned and faced Tseng. He spread his feet out and stood his ground, unmoving. His eyes glared hard at him.

There the two stood, facing each other like a showdown of gunfighters. The Shinra soldiers held back and continued to watch and wait, some of them secretly hoping to see Tseng, a Turk, in action. There was silence for a few moments.

"…Your spine appears to have thickened considerably since we met yesterday." Tseng announced at last. "Either that, or you're fairly stupid. Only the brave or the foolish stand their ground in front of me, you know. Or should I consider this you agreeing to surrender yourself?"

Serge didn't respond. Instead, he simply reached into his pocket and pulled out the injection device. Tseng turned his gaze to this when he did so, and watched as Serge pulled back his arm and then underhand tossed it to the dark suit. It sailed through the air in a graceful arc before landing and impacting in the snow right at the Turk's feet. He turned his head down and looked at it…immediately realizing that it was broken and the fluid in it gone.

Tseng slowly sighed. "…That serum was worth millions. Terminating your contract won't even begin to pay for it."

"Take that contract and shove it." Serge snapped back. "And you can go to hell with the rest of the Shinra for all I care."

The man looked up and glared darkly at Serge. "Tell me…do you really think setting us back four years of research and getting out a few insults is worth your life?

"My life and my conscience sure as hell aren't worth what you were offering me in that deal." Serge retorted. "The only way you're getting me back to Midgar is over my dead body."

Tseng snorted. With that, he reached up his black gloved hands to his suit, and then smoothed it out. He slowly twisted his head to one direction and cracked it.

"…You know…everyone who has ever said that to me has had it their way."

Serge's eyes narrowed as he formed a sneer. He balled his hands into fists. Then, giving out a yell, he charged forward for Tseng as best as he could. The sprain in his leg appeared to be forgotten as he barreled right for him. As for Tseng…his eyes stayed dark as he slowly put his arms at his sides, balling them into fists as well. His jaw tightened as Serge neared, and he still had time to stand his ground as the other man came up to him and took a swing at his face.

Tseng easily twisted his body one way, letting the blow sail harmlessly by. Serge grit his teeth and swung for his face again the other way, but he once again hit air as Tseng easily dodged. That done, Tseng countered by swinging one of his legs around and straight up in what appeared to defy body constraints, and then swung it down on Serge's had in an axe kick. Somehow, it twisted and went around, striking Serge in the back of the head. As his jaw was slammed shut, Serge was driven forward and face first into the snow, his body flailing up behind him like a tail of kite.

Tseng didn't let him stay down, but immediately squatted, drove his hand down, and seized Serge by the back of the neck. He yanked him up to his feet and then gave him a twisting punch into his guts before iron palming him in the face. The impact sent Serge flying back ten feet before crashing into the snow again. He sprawled out as he landed there, but then pulled his face up again. He shook it hard and spat, staining the snow near his head with a great red glop of fluid.

Serge looked up as blood dribbled from his mouth, and he saw Tseng was approaching him again. Somehow, he managed to get to his feet as he came, and lunged at him again. This time, he aimed a punch for his stomach. Tseng quickly and easily swung his arm down and deflected it. Serge aimed another hit for his face, but this too was deflected. The soldier punched again, but this time Tseng let it go through. It impacted on the man's head…and disturbed his hair slightly as it made his face twitch to one side. Other than that…nothing. Tseng retorted by forming fists with both hands and smashing them together on Serge's head…like a brutal form of ear boxing. Serge cried in pain and winced, but he wasn't able to grab for his head before Tseng did a flip kick, swinging his body up and lashing out with his feet in a backward somersault to connect with Serge and send him flying back into the snow again.

Serge shook himself off again after landing, scattering more blood droplets around him, and then more slowly began to get up. Tseng cracked his neck once, but then approached him. As he was still coming…Serge suddenly came to life and cried out as he barreled right for the Turk. He went for his middle, charging into it and wrapping his arms around his waist in an attempt to throw him to the ground. However…Tseng held still as a statue when he came…and a moment later drove both elbows down on his back. Serge slipped and hacked, coughing up more blood. But before he could fall to the ground, Tseng shot out his arms and grabbed Serge's own. He dragged him up to his feet, locked his arms around Serge's, and then smashed him in the face with a headbutt…breaking his nose. He did it again afterward, this time smashing his two front teeth before sending him flying back again a few more feet, and crashing once again into the snow. He sprawled out once more, and couldn't get up right away this time.

Tseng let Serge moan and writhe for a moment as he calmly reached into his jacket. He came out with a handkerchief a moment later and wiped Serge's blood off of his forehead. After replacing it, he came forward again and readied himself for a kick. Serge didn't lunge at him this time, but continued to writhe and moan on the ground. But as Tseng was on him and began to shoot his foot forward to hit him…Serge once again came alive and seized his foot. He held it and kept it from moving forward anymore. But in response, Tseng merely leapt off of his other foot and drove it deep into Serge's gut, knocking the wind out of him and weakening him into releasing the leg. Once it was free, Tseng yanked it back and drove it forward into Serge's face, smashing it again and actually sending the soldier sliding through the snow a few more feet before stopping again.

There…he went limp. He wheezed around his broken nose and dribbled blood on the snow around his head. His face was swollen, cut, and broken now, and he was out of breath. He wasn't fighting anymore.

Tseng cracked his neck one last time and then stepped up to his fallen form. As he did, he pulled away his coat and reached into it once more. This time…he pulled out his gun. He cocked it once it was out as he looked down at Serge.

"You have no one to blame but yourself for this, private." He said as he twisted the pistol down and aimed it at the man's head. "You had everything…and you gave it up for your conscience."

Serge panted a bit longer, but managed to crack open one beaten eye as he did so. He looked up to the man over him…and at the gun that was now pointing at him. He swallowed once, getting mostly blood with it.

"…Fair trade." He replied weakly. Then, he smiled.

Tseng said nothing else. He simply pulled the trigger.

---

It was finally over. As the sound of that final gunshot went out…the world around Ragnar turned to blackness again. When they cleared this time, he was not in another vision. He found himself back in the forest from before…exactly as he had been. Bahamut stood once more at his side, tall, straight, and calm. His face, however, bore grimness and seriousness. The forest was quiet, and the esper in human form stared at Ragnar, not moving or saying a thing.

Yet for the youth…he felt as if a deluge had broken loose in his mind.

Once again…Ragnar fell to the ground. But he didn't lower himself this time. He practically collapsed. His eyes were wide open and his mouth loose. The images still burned fresh in his mind. He had seen them all as clearly as if he had been there… He had tried several times to reach out with his nonexistent body to interact with the visions…but he had been unable to. He could only watch them unfold…and watch as they slowly and surely revealed the truth.

Ragnar swallowed and continued to stare for a long time…but then slowly exhaled. He raised a hand to his forehead and placed it against it, and then leaned down against the limb. He closed his eyes and swallowed.

"…He…was my father…wasn't he?"

Bahamut stared darkly forward, but then lowered his own gaze.

"Yes."

So…that was the story. That was the great mystery. He hadn't been born in or out of wedlock. He had been…an accident. A mistake. The result of a man's crime. Not only that…he was artificial. An experiment. Neither parent wanted him to exist when he was conceived. He was not the product of anyone's love or desire for a child. He was some horrible thing meant to be cast away. And his mother…he had come into being because she had been raped… Every time she looked at him, she had to remember where he came from… Every time he asked her that question…she had to remember that man who had violated her… She had been ridiculed and scorned by the people of that community…for something that wasn't her fault. She bore the insult of having a child from an affair rather than let him know he had been the result of a rape…

And his father…who he had assumed died fighting in a war…

He had given him to his mother just to get rid of him.

Ragnar couldn't take it. His throat tightened and his mouth curled…and then he began to cry.

For a few minutes, he just sat there and sobbed, letting his tears, which in truth were merely figments of his imagination, pour out onto the ground. He had thought there had been more to him. He thought there had at least been someone who wanted him at some time. But he was just some filthy mistake… His mother had suffered so much because of him…and she had never been able to tell him the truth. Had she truly loved him at all? Could she truly love him, knowing what he was? The knowledge made him feel filthy…almost as if he was the man's own violation…which, in a way, he was. He felt dirty and evil by nature…and he began to feel very alone. The thought only made him cry more with time.

Then he felt something. An arm encircled around him. It wasn't soft or gentle like Aerith's, but was firm and supporting. He cried a bit longer, but then managed to open his eyes and look to his side to see the source. He saw that Bahamut had bent down next to him and put his arm around him, supporting him as he grieved. When he looked up into his large blue eyes, he saw that they were full of pity, sharing in his sadness.

Ragnar, weak as he was, turned the rest of the way and put his head against Bahamut's shoulder, and there he continued to cry.

Bahamut looked up and away, not looking down to Ragnar as he sobbed. But he continued to provide his chest for him to cry on. And he kept his arm around him. He could sense Ragnar's thoughts…and he wanted the youth to remember that he himself still thought of him as someone of value, just as he had when they first met. None of that had changed with his revelations. He let his actions say that he still cared about this human. He did not speak this, but he did not need too. Bahamut's aura alone was enough to transmit what he felt to a person he was this close too. Yet right now, he knew, more than anything, Ragnar needed support. For he couldn't take the place of some people…

Ragnar at last managed to choke it back, and then pushed himself away. Bahamut released him immediately, knowing that male humans had a subconscious fear of being "physical" with other males. He wiped at his eyes and swallowed again, but he kept his head bowed and his eyes to the ground.

"…I guess…you're the closest thing to a father I've ever had…" Ragnar finally spoke.

Bahamut didn't relate this…but somewhere inside him, he felt an unexpected joy at hearing Ragnar say that.

"…As you can probably guess, your mother didn't believe in punishing you for the crime of your father, and brought you into this world." The esper continued. "Your mother loved you, Ragnar. Don't doubt that. She would not have borne the insults of so many unforgiving humans for so long if she did not. And she would have never kept it a secret from you if she didn't. She never knew anything about the circumstances of your genetics. And you…do not think of yourself as a worthless person because of this. All people exist for a reason, and it is not how one comes into the world or what is decided for them that determines who we are. It is ultimately our own choices. You have proven yourself greater than many of so-called 'noble birth' by your virtue time and time again."

Ragnar sniffed again and breathed, trying to steady himself further. Once this was done, he licked his lips and turned his eyes up to the esper.

"What about Miranda?" He asked. "And…my half-brother?"

Bahamut slowly sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Ragnar. I do not know. I know enough to know that Tseng was lying to Serge. He had been bluffing him to try and get him to turn back. I know enough to also know that Miranda shot a pursuing Shinra operative in the leg while she was trying to escape with her four-year-old son. However…after that, things grow confusing. You see…that morning was the same morning that Gongaga had its reactor explosion, killing at least half of the people in town. Based on their evidence of where she was and their attempts to capture her, the Shinra concluded that both Miranda and her child were among the explosion victims. And if they survived and they live to this day…then they are impossible for me to locate. They likely changed identities to flee the Shinra. Their spirits are not in the Lifestream for me to try to find, and their energy signature is markedly different from yours…for reasons which must now be clear to you."

Ragnar began to bow his head again in sadness at hearing that the other members of his family were lost…

But then froze.

He suddenly realized what had happened. A crucial point to Bahamut's tale finally hit home, and he fully began to realize it for the first time. Ragnar's sadness evaporated as his eyes began to expand and his mouth loosened again. Slowly, he started to lean his head back up.

"Did…did Serge…inject himself…with…?"

Bahamut saw he was realizing this and gave a nod. "Yes, Ragnar. Prior to what he did…he gave himself the injection. As intended…it altered his contribution and caused ovulation in your mother. For all intensive purposes…it did exactly as it was supposed to do. That is why your signature would be markedly different from your half-brother's…"

Now…Ragnar realized the truth without a doubt, and it made his eyes widen more than before. He couldn't believe it. He had never suspected it…not once in all of his studies. But now…if this was true…then…

"I…I never talked to the Planet…"

"Not as well as Aerith, no." Bahamut calmly answered. "Not yet, at any rate. But males are the weaker sex among Cetra. It takes longer for their powers to develop. And you spent much of your life in a lifeless area. But you cannot deny that you've detected the ebb and flow of forests, water, and creatures around you. You cannot deny that you seem to pick up on the emotions and feelings of others far easier than others. You told me yourself that you heard a voice when Holy came, and when you were in the City, and when you were in danger. You told me it was female…comforting…friendly. I believe you were hearing either the voices of your ancestors…or of the Planet itself.

"How else did you think that you were the chosen one of this Planet, Ragnar? And who else but the Cetra could be their chosen ones? How is it that you have mastery of flame? Is it power from within you? Or is it rather you talking with the Planet through an unknown sense…wishing that it would come forth? Have you ever felt truly alone? Haven't you always felt an unknown presence at your side…especially in the city of your ancestors? You told me you felt safe there. Didn't you really felt like you belonged there? That it was your home?"

Ragnar realized these things and many more as he heard Bahamut say them one after another. And as he did…he began to realize the truth. He hadn't been imagining that he was starting to hear the Planet with Aerith… He was hearing the Planet. He had felt connected with nature because he could feel it flowing through him…almost sense it coming and moving and changing. And he hadn't just felt immersed with the Cetra in the City of the Ancients…he felt like he should have been there…that he should live there. He didn't learn that language so much…as had it awakened within him. He had…his heritage awakened within him. And that's why here felt so unnatural…because he couldn't sense the Planet here…

The truth became fully clear to him…and he slowly vocalized it as if to say it aloud would make it clear to him.

"I…I'm…a Cetra."

"Half-Cetra, to be precise." Bahamut corrected calmly, smiling. "But a half-Cetra is plenty. After all…Aerith is half-Cetra."

Ragnar stared blankly, blinking and unbelieving. He couldn't believe it. It wasn't possible…was it?

"But…" He began to stammer. "But…if I'm one…then…then how come…? Meteor… Holy… The need for the last Cetra…"

"Although the blood of a Cetra runs in your veins, as I said before…you were a male one. You were weaker. Not only that, you were synthetic. The Planet had a harder time recognizing your existence. But as you grew and matured, and after the only other Cetra perished, the Planet began to recognize you. Yet even then…it wasn't until you reached the City of the Ancients that the half of you that was Cetra truly began to awaken, and you and the Planet at last began to form a bond with one another. Now that bond is almost complete. Within a matter of weeks…perhaps less…you will be able to talk with Gaia as easily as Aerith does."

Ragnar was overwhelmed. He couldn't believe it. This was an even harder truth to grasp than the means of his conception. And yet…as he thought about it…as he realized it was true…the previous sadness and loneliness inside him began to fade. He was half Cetra…which meant that he was one of the Cetra. He could actually talk with the Planet. He was one of the race he had idolized so much and wanted to learn so much about. He wasn't alone or abandoned…but rather in union with every living thing. He had a greater connection to nature than any other human alive. He was kin to the same natural life forms from Gaia that had that deep inner bond to it from birth.

When this happened…he began to feel happiness welling up inside him. It was a surprising truth…but it was a good one. It was something great for once…and it began to fill him with new joy. A smile began to spread on his face as he let out a short laugh.

"I don't believe it… I'm a Cetra…" He spoke aloud. "Aerith is always talking about how I can relate to her better than any other human…and now I know why. I'm actually hearing the Planet like she is… Wait until I tell her…"

Here, however…Ragnar stopped. His smile vanished. He suddenly realized something that wasn't right here. On recognizing this fact, he turned to Bahamut. Apparently, the esper had similar notions…for he had suddenly gone dark and grim once again. A deeper fear was beginning to burn within his eyes…one that unsettled Ragnar to look at. He had a feeling that there was more to their meeting here than what he had just learned.

"Master…if I'm half Cetra…" He began slowly. "Then…that means I could have stopped the eruption in Midgar myself. Aerith didn't need to be brought back from the dead…"

Bahamut swallowed once, and inhaled deeply. A weariness came over the esper, as it looked like the heart of some new matter was coming to light.

"That's not entirely true." Bahamut began, his voice darker and slower. "You were still too underdeveloped in ability to save Midgar. Yet I did not even know you had Cetra blood inside you at the time we brought Aerith back from the dead. That was the reason I suddenly abandoned you back at the City of the Ancients. As I sensed Aerith's life force to see if she was holding steady, I noticed that it was remarkably similar to your own. Indeed…there were no two signatures on the rest of the Planet so alike. Until that point, I believed that the only way to save Midgar was to bring Aerith back. And I took a mighty risk doing so. The Crystal Stone, as I said before, brings people back different from the way they were."

Ragnar gave a nod to this. "I know that. Aerith…she has new powers. She's able to use magic without materia."

After saying this, Ragnar suddenly stopped. Bahamut had snapped at that, as if he had just heard that someone was about to stab him in the back. His skin flushed a shade paler, and his own eyes widened. His large blue retinas showed a sudden onset of fear.

"Are you sure?" He asked, his voice suddenly turning fearful.

Ragnar was surprised at this…and unnerved that his master had suddenly changed so much due to him saying this. He looked uneasy himself, but nodded. "Positive. She's done it in front of me lots of times."

Ragnar watched as Bahamut tightened his fist. His head turned away and looked out for a moment. The fear passed over his body, making him look more tense than before. It was as if he was dreading something happening soon, and trying desperately to think of a way to stop it. He swallowed again, and then forced himself to be steady.

"…I suppose this was to be expected." He finally admitted, though his tone sounded like it was trying to convince himself of this fact. "Perhaps…it's not a sign of anything."

The youth's brow furrowed at this. Bahamut's unease made him uneasy, for the esper was never worried without very good cause. He stepped forward. "Master…what's going on?"

The esper paused again and swallowed. He looked like he was trying hard to contain his growing worry. He moistened his own lips, and then turned back to Ragnar.

"There is much at stake here, Ragnar. Much more than you think. I have far more to tell you, and I hardly know where to begin. But you must know it now, so that we can take what steps are possible…if any…to stop it." The esper paused here to steady himself, and then took in a deep breath before beginning.

"…I looked into the future one other time before trying to see a way to stop the eruption in Midgar. That was when I first tried to find you. I was told that in order to make sure you would assume your destiny and stop the New Shinra before they could take this world by surprise, I had to leave Etteca immediately and save you." The esper hesitated again, and slowly exhaled as he grew nervous. "…But what I didn't know was that by coming to stop a foul future from happening on this world…I failed to stop a similar horrible fate from happening to Etteca…something that happened when my brother was rebuilt."

Ragnar's eyes widened a bit, and he opened his mouth to speak.

Bahamut held up a hand and shook his head. "Now is not the time to recall that tale. There is more we must discuss. The point is, I learned the hard way that learning the future was a double-edged sword. By learning what was going to happen I caused some things to occur that would not have otherwise. I feared that I had done something of the sort by bringing Aerith back from the dead."

The esper paused again here…and took an even lower and darker voice.

"…I spent months researching what the consequences of my actions would be…and I found terrible results. I looked at them again and again for an alternate future…but the chances of avoiding it were few and far between. By bringing Aerith back from the dead…I fear I have brought destruction to countless millions."

This stunned Ragnar more than any announcement yet. He had never dreamed of hearing something like that before, or imagined that Aerith's resurrection could have done anything more than bring more hope to the world. His face blanked and turned to surprise once. "Aerith wouldn't hurt a fly. How would that be possible?"

Bahamut raised his head here and lost a bit of his darkness.

"I think it's best to start at the beginning."

Ragnar blinked.

---

And was shocked again when his eyes were opened. Abruptly, the forest had vanished again. Now he was somewhere different…somewhere surrounded by stone blocks in some dark chamber. It was narrow but high ceilinged, opening into dark halls in front and behind him. Flaming braziers were lit here, providing fiery illumination of his surroundings. The walls themselves were covered with thousands upon thousands of runes…far older and archaic than anything Ragnar had deciphered. He snapped his head around him at first in surprise…but then looked a bit more closely at everything, taking in his sudden change of surroundings. It looked like some set of ruins…but ones that Ragnar had never seen before in his life. It was silent save for the crackling of the braziers.

Ragnar looked down in front of him, and found his master standing there, arms folded behind him and looking rather calm about the scenery change.

"This is the Temple of the Ancients…before its…transformation, so to speak." He announced. "Specifically, this is Leviathan's memory of it. I managed to obtain it from his materia. He was the only esper who ever ventured in here, but he wished to do so because of his quest to accumulate knowledge on all things."

Bahamut stopped here, and turned to one of the walls. Ragnar looked up to it as well. He saw that inset within many other runes were four rather large rune pictures. These ones seemed to depict events. To this, the esper gestured.

"This was one of the things he found." Bahamut continued, his voice growing dark once again. "The espers are very old, Ragnar…but there were still two ages of the Planet before they even came to walk on its surface. Little to nothing is known of what happened in that time. What is known is that the Cetra lived during that period…and in that time they left legends. This is one of their oldest…but also one of their greatest."

Bahamut gestured to the first pictograph. Ragnar stepped forward and looked up to it. It was vague…but he noticed that at the top there appeared to be a lot of figures that looked like people shapes. They had crude sticks of various sizes and shapes in their hands, and they appeared to be clashing with one another. Some were lying down with sticks through their bodies. Just below them, a portion of the armed people were mixed with a new sort of armed people…people who seemed to have some sort of ribbon hovering around their bodies. They were driving away and killing a mass of the people with the ribbons around their bodies. Finally…far below it…there were a group of ribbon people huddled around a ribbon person holding a small person who had a ribbon around him or her, but also had what looked like some sort of gleaming design behind his or her shoulders that radiated above his or her head.

"There was a time during the Second Age, right after humanity had its first great downfall, that society tried to rebuild. But humanity was still full of wickedness and vice, and they sought to unite each other through the sword and spear rather than through love and cooperation. In that time, the Cetra had been more numerous. Humanity's initial downfall had allowed them to prosper and multiply, as they went about the work of trying to repair the damage that was done to Gaia. Initially they were spared as the survivors of the human race united and fought new wars against each other…but then they grew jealous. They hated seeing one race prosper while they suffered, and began to think that they must have had something to do with their downfall to profit from their ruin. So they began to wage war against the Cetra, making them the scapegoat for their misery. They expelled and murdered Cetra living among them, accusing them of trying to destroy what mankind was left. They burned their villages and drove them away. The only Cetra who were spared were those that renounced their kin and turned against them, adopting the same vicious, violent practices as the rest of humanity and slaughtering their own families.

"The only place that was safe for Cetra became what was then an island continent. Many Cetra fled there to join with what tribes were already there, but many more perished escaping. Among those that arrived were a woman who was pregnant. The child had been that not of another Cetra, but of a human. However, her husband had joined in the prejudice and foolishness of mankind and had driven her off, forcing her to come here. She hid her pregnancy for a while, but eventually had to give birth. And when she did…the child coming into the world sent forth a ripple through the very Planet itself…for this baby was not just a Cetra-human hybrid…but had been given a power by the Planet far greater than any other Cetra. All of her kind felt it…and sensed an immense spiritual power growing within the baby girl. And yet, they also sensed that she was not of their pure blood either. And so they gave her a name… 'Luhciaeceatrae', which in their tongue literally meant, 'Less than a Cetra'."

Bahamut turned away from this pictograph and moved to the next one. Ragnar followed behind and stood before it as well. He looked up and saw new pictures. At the top of it, the regular people and ribbon people looked to be gathering and making large bowl-shaped things. Below, the ribbon people were all shouting and throwing what looked like sticks and rocks at the one ribbon person who had stood in the center, bearing the child. She had withdrawn from them, and ran to what looked like a vague cave of some sort.

"The Cetra not only loathed this offspring for being half of the race of their murderers, but also because they sensed such power within her. They feared that she would bring a calamity on them all. And so…her mother was forced to flee once again…this time out into the wilds of that continent…or be murdered by her kinsmen. She lived out in the forests and caves of that land, and through much toil and struggle slowly brought her child up. It was not easy…for the child was what the Cetra called "half-living". It is the equivalent of being brain dead in the human terminology. She would eat when food was put in her mouth, and she breathed and kept her eyes open…but she never reacted to any sight or sound or smell or taste or pain. Yet still her mother raised her, hoping one day that she would fully awaken.

"As the Cetra struggled to live on this harsh land, the humans and traitor Cetra were merciless. They would not be happy until every last one of them was dead. They began to build a massive fleet so that they could invade this continent and finish off the refugees that they had exiled."

Bahamut again turned away and led Ragnar to the next picture. This one was one of the worst. The middle portion was filled with the bowls, and each had a dozen armed normal people and ribbon people. It showed the ribbon people and normal people flooding the lower part of the rune, and slaughtering the remaining ribbon people. They were piled up and dead everywhere. Some were in pieces. A few of the attackers were also at the cave…and one had thrown a spear through the mother of the Luhciaeceatrae.

"The invasion finally happened, and the invaders swarmed the island. They spared neither woman nor child, even if they begged for mercy or surrendered. They made their way inland, as if to sweep them from the world like a broom sweeps dust from the floor. Naturally, as they made their way inland, they eventually came to the cave where the Luhciaeceatrae and her mother were hiding. She was out trying to gather some food for them when she spotted the attackers. She ran back to the cave to try and defend her daughter, and they pursued her the whole way. She made it to her child…but then a spear flew out and struck her in the back. She fell dead at the feet of her own daughter.

"What no one had suspected until this moment was that although the Luhciaeceatrae seemed helpless…she had seen and understood everything that her mother had done for her for her entire life. And she had loved her greatly. And now that she saw wild and wicked men coming forth, first slaughtering her and then coming for her own life…the power that was deep within her awoke at long last."

Bahamut hesitated…but then walked to the last pictograph. As Ragnar followed and looked up…he hesitated as well. This last picture was not nice.

The Luhciaeceatrae, fully grown, now stood over the entire pictograph. Rings of light seemed to radiate from her. Huge portions of the pictograph were devoted to things that came from her. On one side, ribbon people and normal people alike were being burned by giant flames. On another, storms, lightning, and tornadoes were striking down on them. On yet another, dozens were falling into great fissures in the earth. Finally…tidal waves washed away both land and people alike. Far below, looking rather small and humbled now, a few remaining normal people and even less ribbon people, all unarmed, were in a few last boats and landing on pieces of land.

"The Luhciaeceatrae's full power awakened…and she released a pillar of energy so great that it annihilated a third of the continent at that moment. Screaming and going into the sky, she vented not only her full wrath…but the wrath of Gaia for murdering the Cetra and ravaging its body. Every element of nature was twisted into nightmarish power, and unleashed upon all…human, traitor Cetra, and Cetra. Storms…infernos…quakes…tsunamis…the whole world was covered with their rage and wrath and people perished by the tens of thousands. The sky turned black around the Luhciaeceatrae, yet she gleamed like a star. Those who looked at her were said to either die from fear or be driven mad to see the passion and might that went through her. In the end…she discharged her full power through her body…destroying it and unleashing so much might that it blew the continents apart.

"Very few were spared this, both human and Cetra. Only those who were in boats and fortunate enough to avoid the typhoons, tsunamis, and whirlpools made it. Many more died on the sea before they struck ground on the continents. It was said those survivors had been so stricken with fear and terror that they forgot what it was to hate or make weapons of war, and they became primitive and animal-like. This, supposedly, is how my sibling Crusader found them a few hundred years later. The Planet itself was frightened at the power it was capable of, and for this reason, though many evils happened, it did not craft the WEAPONs until this day and age.

"Yet the world was still changed. The power that the Luhciaeceatrae had unleashed could not be recalled. It now cascaded freely through the world. When we were born, the Planet took some of that energy and gave it to us. The rest of it eventually became the force that humans called magic. In time, the Cetra regained much of their knowledge through talking with the Planet, and the full story of the Luhciaeceatrae was related. However…they no longer called this one 'Less than a Cetra'. Her name was changed to 'More than a Cetra'…Sorciaeceatrae."

Bahamut turned away from the pictograph here and to Ragnar. The youth looked down at him at that.

"The humans adopted that word, Ragnar." The esper explained. "It is where the term 'Sorceress' comes from."

---

The temple vanished like a puff of smoke. The burning sound faded, and was replaced by the quiet white noise of the forest as Ragnar and Bahamut were at once back where they had begun. However, their positions had not changed. They were still looking to one another…and Bahamut was grim. He wanted this last point driven home…the meaning of those pictographs. Ragnar had an idea of what his master was implying…but he didn't believe it. It sounded crazy. Immediately, he began to shake his head.

"…So?" He finally asked after a moment, giving a shrug. "What does this have to do with Aerith? Just because she's a half-Cetra? I'm a half-Cetra too. And besides…none of this matters anymore. Magic vanished from Gaia."

In response to this…Bahamut glared darkly and coldly back without change. Ragnar was calm and easy for a moment…but as he stared on at how grim the esper was at what he said…he began to feel growing uneasy inside him. He didn't like that silence.

"…Didn't it?" Ragnar continued.

"Then explain how you and Aerith have magical abilities." The esper answered. "But you are wrong, Ragnar. Just as the people of the past age were wrong. Just as Terra was wrong when she thought her power had left her. Magic did indeed leave the accessible realm that humans and espers came to know…but it did not fade. Energy cannot be destroyed. It can only change form. The energy that the Sorceress unleashed was spread throughout the world and into espers. But they began to die out…and the remaining power was concentrated into the Three Magi statues. They became the source of magic until they died. But once they passed on…it was not destroyed. It returned to where it had first come from…the Planet itself."

Bahamut swallowed deeply and looked down to the ground…as if he was seeing something else inside it. "Magic didn't disappear but gathered once more into this world. It compiled and grew there as each esper, one after another, died out. Each new death of an esper or one with esper blood has collected more deep within the core of Gaia. And as it has grown…once more it has proven itself to be too much for the Planet to contain within itself. Once it has all been gathered…it will only require a new spark to turn it into an eruption…to once more unleash its power on Gaia…to return to an era where wizards and mages walk on the face of the earth."

Ragnar hesitated as he heard this. It was unbelievable to him…but he could tell that Bahamut was gravely serious. And he trusted him more than almost anyone else alive. He was telling the truth…that the power of magic that was thought long lost might return. The idea stunned him. First his Cetra blood…and now magic… It was as if the world was returning back into the older age that he had once longed for…but now was in disbelief to see it come to light. The thought of seeing people running around with powers like that…just like out of the old fairy tales… It was unbelievable…

"And now…I fear that this spark has come back to this world." Bahamut darkly continued. "You do not know this…but both you and Aerith tap into this store locked within Gaia every time you use your powers, as if you were putting pressure on the ground to get water from an artisian well. Before…it probably never would have progressed past that."

The esper looked back up to Ragnar here, his voice growing quiet and his eyes fierce once again.

"…But Aerith has been brought back with new powers. And I have confirmed it. There isn't a shadow of a doubt about it… She has the potential to become the next Sorceress."

The esper was again deadly serious about this. There was no lie or doubt in his eyes…and that unsettled Ragnar. The images that he had seen came back to mind…and Bahamut was meaning to say that she could be capable of them. Yet as he said this…Ragnar felt a great opposition rise up in him to this idea…even perhaps a bit of anger. He shook his head again.

"No…there's no way. It can't be possible. Aerith would never. She loves everyone…"

"Before she did." Bahamut answered. "But she's come back changed. Like it or not…she's experienced death. She's felt its pain. The memory of it was gone when she went into the afterlife…but now that she's descended back into a mortal body it is present. And now she fears her new power. She fears it so much that she is unconsciously holding back her anger. She's letting fear seize her where anger should give her the strength to perservere. She's holding back a great mass within herself as well…and it will erupt eventually."

Ragnar's face turned into a frown.

"I can't believe that." He flatly answered.

"I have seen it." Bahamut answered.

"Then you must have seen wrong!" Ragnar found himself shooting back. Normally this kind of outburst would have been answered with even greater anger on the part of the esper, but for now he was calm and let Ragnar's defense mechanism of denial work. "I know her! She was the only one of us that accepted Azure when he arrived! She's disabled people but she's refused to kill them! Everything she's done…"

"You can accept it or you can't, Ragnar." Bahamut cut off flatly. "But I know what I saw, and denying this truth is not going to prevent it. She has great love within her, yes…but she is also feeling the anger of the Planet. Even after the release of WEAPON its anger has not fully been spent. Her emotions are those of this world. She's feeling this rage too…and its mixing with her own feelings of helplessness and inadequacy. She feels so helpless when she sees these battles and deaths going on, and being unable to stop it. She sees all of this injustice in the world and she can't cure it all. She saw what Sephiroth did to you…and deep within herself she feels as Cloud does, regret at being unable to spare you this…regret at being unable to heal your broken body. She feels powerless…and that feeling of inadequacy is beginning to mix with her anger. As she continues to use her power…she's going to realize she's capable of far more. Her growing violent side will gravitate to that. It will consume her goodness and purity and warp her into something horrible. And your denial of this will not help save her."

Ragnar clenched his hands into fists. He almost wanted to lunge at Bahamut and tackle him. He began to open his mouth to spit a "no" in his face. And yet…inside him, these words rang true. He couldn't confirm most of it…but he knew that the esper wasn't lying. He never lied. He would not be so grim and serious if he wasn't absolutely sure that this would happen. And as Ragnar realized that…he began to realize that it was true. When that happened…his anger began to fade and his fists loosened. He lowered his head down again.

Aerith…

Even now…he still thought she was as beautiful and perfect as when they first met. She was kind and caring and considerate… She shone with such an inner radiance. Could that really be dimmed? Could it be blackened out by the image of this destructive entity? Was there a part of her that was trying to grow and consume the rest? He couldn't believe it…but moreover he feared it. What if it was true? What did that mean? That the perfect woman in his life was going to be taken away? That she'd be destroyed for some heartless monster…as mindless and savage as all of the WEAPONs combined? That the person he had fallen for was going to be lost to him?

The person…he loved…would be gone?

No…

Here, Ragnar looked back up to Bahamut. His eyes were wider now…filling with their own fear.

"…I've got to stop this from happening." He stated. "Please tell me there's a way to keep it from happening."

Bahamut frowned slightly, and bowed his head a bit more. Immediately…Ragnar feared the worst…that the pure image in his brain was going to warp into something ugly and cruel… The esper drew in a deep breath, and then began again in a tired way.

"…My own selfishness may have dimmed our hope even further." He ruefully spoke.

Ragnar's fear subsided a moment as he heard this. Deep in his brain…a primal part ignited in anger at the esper. What selfish act had he done to ruin Aerith? How could he do something like that? Yet his logical brain held, and he stayed silent and listened as the esper slowly explained.

"…I looked into your future and I saw your death." Bahamut grimly began. This phrase alone deflated Ragnar somewhat, and sent a cold feeling through him as he kept watching. "I foresaw the morning of this very day. I saw that you would engage Sephiroth in battle. I saw that there was almost an inconsequential chance of you beating him…and in all other scenarios you perished at his hand. Sure enough…time played out exactly the way it was. He ran you through the chest…and it was only by creating a cloud of shadow around me, catching you, sealing up your chest, and feeding you some of my regenerative energy that you managed to survive."

Bahamut drew in a deep breath here, and sighed as he closed his eyes and admitted something unexpected.

"But long before that…I seriously debated letting you die."

Ragnar's surprise had taken a new turn. What had Bahamut just said? But before he could answer, the esper continued.

"You must know something, Ragnar. There is one check that I have on the Sorceress…and that is myself. I hold the last magical power within me. So long as I live…it is nearly impossible for it to be re-released. Then I saw your duel. If you perished…Sephiroth would go unchecked in his plans for the future." The esper swallowed here, and narrowed his eyes as he opened them again. "And unfortunately…he had greater crafts than I am aware of. I suspect a part of his 'mother' is still floating around in the Lifestream, a part that either regrew from what Aerith destroyed or managed to hide. Because of this…the alien knows much as well, and feeds the knowledge back to Sephiroth. But what more…she exerts her power against me…not wanting me to know what designs he has planned.

"But aside from that…there was the matter of the duel. What you don't know yet, Ragnar, was that I myself could only save you if I challenged Sephiroth myself…which was exactly what I did this morning."

Ragnar leaned back in further amazement. "You…you fought Sephiroth today?"

"I did." Bahamut replied, though in a dark voice and with a frown. He sighed soon after. "It was the only way to get you out. What he didn't know while I was fighting him was that I was keeping his senses focused entirely on me so that he couldn't detect Cloud coming and carrying you away. If I had just tried to seal you up and leave you for Cloud, or carry you out myself, Sephiroth would have intervened and killed you before I could stop him."

"Did you beat him?" Ragnar asked, seeming to discount this first part. "I mean…that's a stupid question. Of course you did. There's no way he could have taken…"

However…Ragnar trailed off here. He noticed that Bahamut's face was growing dark and his head was bowing once again. At that…he began to realize what had happened.

"But…there's no way… You have to be stronger than…"

"So I thought." Bahamut grimly answered. "But Sephiroth is not human. And I am not as mighty as I used to be. The level of power he possesses is greater than what he had before. Much…much greater. Ragnar…I fully intended to destroy him if I could have. His power was too great, more than I expected even after seeing me fight in the visions. I could not prevail against him no matter how hard I tried. Rather…I was forced to sacrifice my Neo form and become weaker yet in order to survive the battle."

Ragnar stared blankly at this…truly shocked. He knew he was nothing compared to his master, and he knew all the stories about how Bahamut had enough power to blow holes through the tallest mountains, travel thousands of miles in a matter of hours, and generate flares with the power of the sun. Many of his own race had considered him a god. Ragnar knew Sephiroth was strong…far stronger than him…but he had believed that Bahamut was infinitely better. Surely he could take him without a problem. Yet hearing this…hearing that he had actually had to sacrifice one of his forms in order to survive the attack on him…it was beyond belief.

Bahamut grunted. "…In truth, I was lucky to have seen myself lose. Had I not…I would not have had the time to tell myself to break into a weaker form before the wave would have destroyed me. You see, Ragnar…" Here, he looked up and turned to the youth, still grim and serious.

"…In saving you…I was supposed to die in that battle."

The youth's jaw loosened, and he gaped silently back at the esper. Bahamut, on his part, simply stared back without change.

"That…that's not…possible…is it?"

"You have heard many things that seem out of the realm of possibility today…this should not surprise you." Bahamut grimly answered. "There was no mistake in what I said. The true surprise was that I was able to break off into my current form before being annihilated. I had not seen that in my vision. But that was the exchange, Ragnar. If I wanted to save you…I had to surrender my own life. Yet even that was not the worst of it…and it is not the worst of the future that I picked in saving you.

"My death would have completed the cycle…and the last of the power of magic would have returned to the Planet to await its second coming. Aerith's anger had been checked temporarily based on your survival. However…you'll never be the same. Sephiroth has cut tendons in your leg and arm. One of your hands is nearly useless and one of your legs is now weak. Even now…it will be weeks before you can get up and move again and try to regain a portion of your old strength."

Ragnar heard these words with a growing chill inside him. Here…he had no idea how badly he was hurt. And his senses in the real world were too fuddled to make any clarity of anything. But now…he began to realize just what had happened. And on hearing it he suddenly lost his happiness at being a Cetra and began to be filled with fear. What did this mean? Was he a cripple now? Was he useless in a fight? What exactly had Sephiroth taken from him?

Bahamut didn't dwell on this, however, but continued.

"Aerith, of course, will try to heal you. She'll stay at your side for the next few months trying to return you to your old glory. In the meantime…the PPA and the WGN will get desperate. They will make another strike on the New Shinra, this time with their full strength gathered. They will inflict major wounds on them…but they will not be able to break them. The remainder will return to Midgar and Wutai, each army deserting to its respective home city, and try to move people away. You yourself will be determined to stay until the very end…but Aerith will refuse to leave your side. To that end…you will knock her out and give her to her friends to carry her away…and she will be unable to help you when Sephiroth reappears on the eve of destruction to finish you. Soon after…the city itself will be destroyed."

Ragnar said nothing to this, but bowed his own head as he saw these images in his brain.

"When Aerith awakens and finds you and thousands of others dead…her dark side will take her over. Then…she will become the next Sorceress. She will not be explosive or chaotic like the previous one…but she will be powerful." Bahamut narrowed his gaze here and spoke more quietly. "I saw terrible visions, Ragnar…and horrible things. Her first order of business will be to annihilate Sephiroth as well as the entire New Shinra Army herself, without pity or hesitation. One hour. That's how long they will last against her. After that, her mind and heart will turn to iron. She'll announce that she will no longer condone the reckless actions of humanity. She will install herself as their lord and master. Anyone who refuses her will meet a quick death…and they will indeed. For a week she will encounter opponents…and each one will be destroyed. Her former friends will beg her to cease, but she will have no love anymore in her heart for them. She'll deal with them as harshly as any other dissenters. She will create a new age on Gaia…the Age of the Sorceresses. She will be the first in a line of dark queens. For years her reign will last…but in the end, Cloud himself will have found the means and the will to destroy her. He too will perish in the process…but her reign will be over.

"Yet that will not be the end. She will have passed on her bloodline by then…and will offer this glimpse of the future."

---

Ragnar raised his head at that…but then stopped again. The world had changed in the most bizarre way yet, and he immediately had to look away from his master to see it all.

Hundreds…thousands of towers of light were all around him. Each one was bigger than the greatest skyscraper ever built, illuminated with millions of devices and lights. They rose up all around him forming some strange new metallic and shining world. The youth was aghast, and stared around in awe at all of them, stretching up into the sky and as far as they eye could see. Then, he turned his gaze below him…and to his surprise he found that he was hovering hundreds of feet in the air. The skyscrapers extended down below him…but so did hundreds of roads and bridges, arching and snaking over one another, streamed with lights and devices like he had never seen. Glowing, hovering vehicles shot by on them and went here and there. Thousands…millions of people were below. Ragnar could barely see them…but each looked garbed in strange clothing with high tech devices adorning them.

Ragnar looked around him a bit longer, marveling and shocked at all of this. Flying ships and vehicles hovered overhead. Bridges of light shot out and conducted transports from one area to another. Sights and sounds filled his ears and eyes as he hovered over this great expanse. Yet in the end, he was able to look back to Bahamut. The esper hovered calmly with his arms crossed behind him.

"What…is this place?" Ragnar asked.

"More important is when." Bahamut calmly answered. "You are three hundred years into the future…and this is the great megalopolis of Eschar. Remember…when Aerith becomes a Sorceress, magic too will be released again into the world. Its powers will once again become available to the select devoted and gifted. And through them and the continuing advancements of technology, humanity will reach a new apex." The esper gestured around him here. "This city is the great symbol of that apex. Disease, starvation, poverty…all of these things will be destroyed here. This city itself will be ruled by one of Aerith's descendents…a very powerful…and far less scrupulous…woman named Adel. This city will be a monument to her ability to lead and create…the greatest that a Sorceress is capable of."

After saying this, however…Bahamut's gaze narrowed again, and his voice took a dangerous edge.

"…But at a terrible price."

With that, Bahamut raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

Immediately, the world around Ragnar shot by violently. Stunned, he leapt back and looked around him in surprise. It was as if he was frozen in space, but the world was suddenly rotating at incredible speeds, in effect moving him around the world at an inconceivably fast rate. The sky…clouds…hills…mountains…everything whipped by him so fast and on such a grand scale that he was thrown for a loop and disorientated. As he was borne hundreds of miles away from Eschar in an instant, he was unable to keep track of himself or anything else in that blurred span of time.

However…the world did halt again. It suddenly ground to a stop, and once again became normal. Ragnar was still hovering hundreds of feet above the ground, but everything below him was acting as the laws of physics properly ordained. Ragnar was free to look around him once again, and take in his new surroundings.

He saw only one real thing.

Death.

It was a barren, empty wasteland. Nothing…not even a shrub or a clump of grass…grew out here. No birds flew overhead through the cloudless skies, and the sun roasted the dry, blank rocks and sand without end. Not a drop of water was anywhere to be found…just jagged peaks providing a miniscule amount of shade. This dead world stretched everywhere…for endless miles in all directions. Nothing but equally barren and dead mountains interrupted the landscape at the horizon. And from Ragnar's vantage point, he could see it stretch for untold leagues out until the world merged with the sky…and still he saw nothing but the same gray, dead world. There was only one difference in the landscape…and that was far away to the west. There, barely poking above the horizon, like some sort of purple fuzz…was Eschar. Where before it had seemed even larger and more majestic than Midgar…from this distance it was nothing but a blemish on the surface of this vast emptiness.

"Behold, Ragnar…the price of utopia." Bahamut addressed, still hovering in front of him and gesturing around him. "Yet no mako reactor did this. This is the devastation caused by Adel. This entire continent has been reduced to a state of blank, lifeless rock by her power. Only her own metropolis still rises from it. There was a time when this land was filled with life and people…but that is gone. Her power has reduced it to nothingness. Life is no longer possible out here for anyone. Were it not for the atmosphere, this place would be as barren as the surface of Gaia's moon. And worse yet…I see an even darker future ahead of this one.

"This is why it became imperative for me to do everything I could to stop this future from taking place. Far too much is at stake. Sephiroth will no doubt be destroyed if Aerith turns into a Sorceress, but the price will be as great or worse. That was why I wished to desert your in your time of need." The esper hesitated here and frowned, sighing again and bowing his head. "…But in the end, I was too selfish. I couldn't stand there knowing you would die. In the end…I decided to intervene. Through luck and foresight I survived…but matters have little improved as a result."

Ragnar turned back to the esper at this…and now realized the truth. That was what he had been talking about. His selfishness had been in Ragnar's favor. If he had let him die and stayed alive…then there was no way Aerith would have been able to become a Sorceress. He had taken a risk in what he had done. If he had died, then the last restraint would have been broken. Although it may have been a self-serving action…Ragnar realized he was alive because Bahamut had decided to carry out that self serving action. That deflated any anger he might have had. And after all…he had managed to live through it. The guard, for now, was still installed.

The youth looked away from all of the destruction at long last, and then turned back to his master.

---

When Ragnar did…the world had changed yet again. Once more he was back in the Sleeping Forest, and his feet were on solid ground. Again, he stood opposite Bahamut, and the two were silent for a brief moment.

At last, Ragnar formed a puzzled look and spoke. "So…it's alright now, isn't it?" He asked. "You're alive now. That means that Aerith can't become a Sorceress, right?"

The esper, however, looked darkly back at this, and his voice fell again.

"…I haven't seen much of this future, Ragnar, for I didn't think it would come to pass. Aerith will not become a Sorceress now when Midgar is destroyed. And now that you have my forewarning, you too might be able to discover the next assassination attempt Sephiroth makes. Yet do not think that this is enough. Sephiroth is still alive…and no doubt planning something in the shadows of the future. I am sure that whatever it is will bring an evil at least as bad as that of the Sorceresses and infinitely more foul. The Sorceresses at least wish to spare this world. Sephiroth cares neither for it or any other form of life. You survived your encounter with him, Ragnar…but you are not safe. Neither is Aerith or any of the rest of your friends. Haven't you been wondering why, when presented with both Cloud and Aerith, the man decided to fight you?"

Ragnar hesitated there. As a matter of fact…that was unusual. Why did he want to fight him so much? He had his real targets right there… The youth remembered his language during the battle… He seemed bored with this…irritated that he had to fight him, almost as if he had to do it out of obligation. And then there was their encounter when they first met… He said that Ragnar didn't know who he really was…or what his purpose was…

Then…it hit him.

"…He knew I was part Cetra." The youth slowly said aloud.

"He sensed it the day he first became aware of you." Bahamut darkly answered. "He knew Aerith's nature and saw how similar you were…but moreover his very cells are averse to you, the alien genetics recognizing those of their true enemy. For now…arrogance is in our favor. He didn't attack you before now because he believed you were too weak to be a threat to him. He feels the same way of Aerith as well, despite the fact she foiled him twice now.

"But neither of you are truly safe so long as he lives. Sooner or later…he will come to destroy you both. And it matters not where you run or hide on Gaia. He will track you down and find you. And if he cannot…he'll destroy those you love to bring you out. Even if he doesn't do that…then he'll destroy people by the thousands without restraint, knowing you would rather die than let him continue. And even if you could hide from him…that would only give him free reign to carry out his evil designs.

"So long as Sephiroth lives…he will remain to give Aerith fear and pain. For now I hold her back…but once that fear and pain reaches a point high enough, it will break. I cannot hold a force of this magnitude forever, Ragnar. Only in my ZERO form had I that level of power. With or without my aid…the power will one day break forth and she will become a Sorceress.

"There is only one option left: Sephiroth must be destroyed."

Ragnar hesitated here…as the source of his fear went back into his mind. The memory of pain traveled through his body, and he faltered in spirit for a brief moment. A cold shiver went through his flesh. However…it didn't last. Now he had thoughts of Aerith running through his mind…and of the pictographs he had witnessed. That put more at stake…far more than his own life, in his estimation. Aerith was a pure angel to him…and if she was going to stay that way, he realized that he had to do this. He had to swallow his fear and continue. With that in mind…he managed to bite back his own inner fear and feel his bravery and fortitude come out again. He let it fill him and embolden him, tightening his jaw and his expression. At last, he looked back up to Bahamut.

"…Alright." He finally said. "I'm all for it. Not just for Aerith's sake but for the Planet's. If I am a Cetra as well as the Chosen One of the Planet, then now more than ever I have a duty to stop him. For my friends' sake, for the Planet's sake, and for Aerith's sake. But I didn't even hold a candle to him today…and now I'm weaker. And you fought him in your Neo form and couldn't beat him. Just how strong is he?"

Bahamut kept his dark expression. "…Far worse than you expect…or even I expected." The esper grimly answered. "I was studying him while we fought one another. I noticed that when I transformed into Neo Bahamut, my power was considerably higher than his. I thought I would beat him then. Yet somehow…he was able to dodge me and make me burn out much of my strength simply attempting to hit him. I couldn't see how this was possible. But then…I started to notice things. He attempted to concentrate simply on dodging me at first and not counterattacking, using only his blinding speed. When he did attack, I saw how he moved much slower, and used surprise over speed to catch me off guard. My only conclusion was this…he had to be focusing all of his power first into speed and then into strength, depending on his need. It was the only way he would be able to overcome me. I was not only trying to be fast but also trying to dash him to pieces with my blow. But if he dodged without caring about counterattacking, and attacked without worrying about how fast it had to be…and focused all of his power into each one…then he could possibly overcome me. Sadly I did not learn this fast enough for me to apply the same strategy and have hope of victory."

Ragnar, however, was puzzled again by this. "But even so…he would have to be using everything he had in each dodge. He'd have to put all of his strength into that. Wouldn't he burn himself out that way?"

The esper paused and slowly exhaled.

"…That was what I thought." Bahamut answered. "Yet I kept a careful watch on his power, and kept in mind that he was not human. Sure enough…he didn't even break a sweat while he was attempting to dodge me. I reached a few conclusions about that…each terrible. First…the only way he could keep fighting me and not get weak…was if his energy did not decrease. And investigating him, I discovered that this was true." The esper paused once again for added effect.

"Ragnar…I confirmed that Sephiroth, somehow, has unlimited stamina."

Yet another horrible surprise for the youth. "What?" Ragnar nearly cried back. "How? That's not possible!"

"I didn't think so myself." The esper darkly answered. "But if his cellular chemistry is like Jenova's…he may have found a way to constantly tap energy from the Planet himself. And strong as he is, the Planet had infinitely more energy at its disposal. I never detected any quivering in his muscles. He never altered his breathing or his heart rate. And he never grew tense or produced more than full power. I'm afraid it's true, Ragnar. Unbelievable as it is…he has reached the point of unlimited stamina. He cannot tire or be worn down through a long battle."

Another frightening aspect of his foe had been revealed, and it astonished the youth. Unlimited stamina? One of the greatest advantages when one was outclassed in terms of strength was to hold back and try to get their stronger opponent to burn through their energy until they were strong enough to counter. That was about the only way Ragnar could invisage defeating this monster. But if that was the case…then what? He had gone past the limitations of mortality. He wouldn't need food or rest…possibly not even air. He could endlessly fight without having to pause, and he could pursue anything until it finally gave out and was overtaken by him. It was a nightmarish possibility… If this was true…

"…Then this means the only way to kill him…is to be stronger than him to the point where you can overcome him completely…even when he's at the peak of his power." Ragnar slowly answered. He hesitated again here, eyes wide in disbelief, before turning to meet Bahamut's own eyes. "But…you said that you couldn't do it…and you're the strongest being on Gaia…"

Bahamut slowly exhaled here, looking darker than before.

"…It's much worse than simply that, Ragnar." The esper responded. "You see…even with unlimited stamina…even with his high regeneration capabilities…Sephiroth would still be doing damage to himself if he fought at the peak of his strength. He might not tire…but the amount of energy being put out by his muscles and cells would be burning him out, like an engine adjusted past its normal output and forced to keep running. In this sense, he could tire, in the sense that as he burned himself out more he would be able to perform less. And since he would be devoting all of his energy into fighting, he would be able to spare nothing to regenerate the damage he was doing to himself. And yet…Sephiroth never gave any indication of this taking place. That meant the obvious…he wasn't fighting me at full power. Given the minimal amount of strain I saw on his body as he was battling me, and past experience from other opponents…I doubt he ever used more than a third of his total strength during our fight."

"A third?!" Ragnar cried back. "Are you serious?!"

Bahamut kept his look. "…For once, I wish I wasn't serious in what I told you. But you know that I hate to repeat myself, Ragnar. There was no mistake in what I said."

"Then what can I possibly do?" Ragnar nearly shouted. "I couldn't even fight him before! Now there's no one left! Even you can't beat him now! Cloud can't do it! Aerith can't do it! What can?"

Bahamut stayed silent after this for a few moments. He bowed his head and shifted his weight slightly. This led Ragnar to fear that the esper had no answer. If that was the case…then they were all dead. There was no way they could fight back against him, and it seemed as if Sephiroth had already won. No wonder he had been so confident back in the Dome…and decided to leave him to die rather than finish him off. No wonder he had spared Aerith and Cloud… What could they do now? Was there anything that could be done?

The esper looked up again finally. However…his grimness and darkness had faded somewhat. Distantly in his large blue eyes…a ray of hope seemed to shine. Seeing this made Ragnar's own despair diminish, and he looked up again back to his master.

"…There is still one final option left." Bahamut began. "On this we must pin all our hopes. I do not know if it will be enough…but there is no other way. It will risk much…both with Aerith as well as the fate of this world. And you, my pupil…much will be demanded of you. You will have to labor long and hard in order to overcome this grim destiny. And after this option…I will not be able to help you again for certain. There will be no turning back, regardless of what I wish or what you wish. Knowing all this…do you still wish to proceed?"

Ragnar paused here. This was confusing talk to him. And it sounded as if Bahamut had a great deal of fear regarding this option as well…perhaps even hesitation. But Ragnar also saw that ray of hope in Bahamut's eyes…and until now he had received nothing but despair and hopelessness. Right now, despite the risks involved, any chance of stopping Sephiroth and averting the fate that was coming was well worth it to him. He tightened his jaw and straightened himself, and then gave a single strong nod.

Bahamut slowly nodded back…as if he was musing over Ragnar's acquiescence. He hesitated here, and some worry seemed to be mixed with his hope for a moment. Yet that faded, and he continued.

"…Ragnar, do you remember reading about the Summoner Rydia?"

The youth paused here a moment, furrowing his brow. "…Yes, I do vaguely." He answered.

"Do you remember when she was injured? How Unicorn saved her life?"

Ragnar gave a nod. "She fused her body with hers, destroying herself but giving Rydia the same properties of an esper she needed to live."

Bahamut nodded back. "What that was, Ragnar, was an extreme form of something that had never before, and never since, been practiced by an esper. It is called a junction. It is a strange phenomenon…and one that few espers were even willing to risk let alone consider carrying out. Because humans themselves have the ability to conduct and manipulate magical energy, and espers themselves are creatures made from magical energy, an esper can convert themselves into an energy form and then bond with a human. This is called a junction. So long as the esper is bound to the human, the human gains incredible powers and abilities as a result of being one with the esper. It does carry some risk, however. So long as the esper is bound to the human, his or her life force is one with the human's. The human's death means his or her death as well if they aren't able to break the link in time."

The esper leaned in a bit more. "…What we may have been unable to do separately, Ragnar…" He spoke in a quiet voice. "…We might accomplish as one being."

Ragnar heard this and understood what that meant. He too hesitated here, as he realized what his master was saying. He pulled back a bit, blinking and looking overwhelmed once again.

"Are…you saying…" He began. "…You want to junction yourself to me?"

"You'll be affected in more ways than just strength and power increase, unfortunately." Bahamut answered. "Junctions alter the personality of the recipient partially. What more…Leviathan's research onto the effect of the junction led to finding that having another personality coursing through one's brain caused memory loss over time. However…you will be far stronger than any other human that lived. Faster…more agile…able to summon your fire power better…you will be in your best condition to possibly triumph against Sephiroth. The power of the junction will also heal your disabled body, raising it back to peak performance."

Ragnar paused for the briefest moment. A shadow of doubt went through his mind as he considered what Bahamut was saying. His master actually wanted to become energy and bind to him. It was weird to say the least. He had seen Bahamut as his great master, a separate and infinitely greater being. And yet…to actually unite with him, for his "lowly mortal pupil" to take on his power…it was stunning. He was a bit nervous about what it would be like to have Bahamut literally running around inside his head and body…

However, he also heard what Bahamut said about his power. This was clearly the ray of hope he mentioned. Alone, there was no way they could win. But if they could do it together…if there was a chance after all of beating Sephiroth…then it was more than worth the risks to him. Destroying Sephiroth would mean saving Aerith and the Planet. He would junction himself to a hundred espers and forfeit the first twenty years of his life to do that.

"I'll do it." Ragnar readily said, actually growing eager. "Let's go right now. I'm ready."

To this, however, Bahamut raised a hand. "Hold a moment longer." He interrupted. "It is true that the junction acts in a small way as a multiplier, and that you will be far stronger than you are in your own body as well as stronger than I am in my human form. But you would still be far inferior to me in my Neo Bahamut form. That little increase in power alone would not be enough to even have a chance against Sephiroth. We would have to do better."

The youth paused here, turning puzzled again.

"Well…then what could we do?"

Bahamut hesitated again here, drawing in a deep breath. This part seemed to give him the most trouble of all. He was silent for a few moments as he tried to say this.

"…If I merely converted my flesh into temporary energy to come back out again…it wouldn't give up much power to you. On the other hand…if I was to totally convert everything I had into energy and give it fully to you…your power would multiply exceedingly and you would likely receive even more benefits than a mere junction alone. You would also have my own store of memories and knowledge available to you to use in battle."

Ragnar's look fell a bit at this, as he began to look confused.

"…What do you mean…'totally convert'?"

Bahamut turned over to his pupil at this, his look more somber now.

"…I mean to sacrifice myself, Ragnar. If we are to carry out this junction…then I will destroy my body to give my full spirit to you. That will kill me, and will leave no shard of magicite behind for me to ever come back from again."

Ragnar's face went blank and his mouth slackened.

"…You'd…have to kill yourself?"

"To have any hope of a chance, I would." Bahamut responded.

The youth paused here, staring back at Bahamut for a few moments. As he looked at him, however…he realized why that worry was in the esper's eyes. But there was more than worry there. There was a deep sense of resolution…determination…and acceptance. He knew what the esper was thinking as he looked at him…and he did not like what he saw.

His face still blank…Ragnar began to slowly shake his head.

"…No." He finally said. "We'll…we'll have to find another way."

"Ragnar…"

"There's got to be another way. Maybe we can…"

"There is no other way and you and I both know that." Bahamut cut off. "Don't subscribe to denial and foolishly believe there is. Do you not think I have been considering other options for weeks?"

"There has to be a way that doesn't involve one of us having to destroy ourselves."

"According to who? Whoever wrote that life was fair? Or that anything worth getting can be obtained without sacrificing something else?"

"There has to be!" Ragnar suddenly shouted, his volume growing and his own face getting tight. Yet in addition to that…his eyes began to shine. "There can't just be all of this doom and destruction and death! Haven't enough people already sacrificed themselves? Haven't you sacrificed yourself enough already? Why do people have to keep dying in order to win?"

To this, Bahamut simply began to look tired and sighed.

"…Now…you are the one who is being selfish, Ragnar." He simply stated. "I wanted to spare your life and risked much to do it earlier. Now you seek to save mine and risk even more. Yet this time, the risk would be for nothing…not even a glimmer of hope. You know well how I consider myself the servant of Gaia. I have been prepared to lay down my life time and time again throughout history. I have always been ready to do my part to save this world. I am ready again now. If I can avert two horrible futures by giving up my life here, then I will gladly do it. I have been living on borrowed time anyway since the day I first surrendered the last of my life to save Rydia on the Lunarian moon. I have had more than any one person should have of both sorrow and joy in the span of a lifetime. Someone of my age and experience should be willing to die over those who are young and mortal."

Ragnar swallowed, his face still tight. "But…"

"Ragnar…I have seen so much death in my life. I have lost so much. And I am now the last of my race and thousands of years old." The esper tiredly cut off. "My life has been one tired struggle after another. I am ready to rest. I want to see my family again. I want to see Terra again. I care deeply for this world…but I am growing weary. I can't stay here forever…and I don't truly wish to. My attempts to rebuild my life have all been dashed. The only semblance I have of a true life now is with you, my only friend on the face of Gaia. I want to see you and Aerith lead happy and prosperous lives. The only way I can is by doing this. And I am sad to go…but more than ready to end this race."

Ragnar didn't answer. He couldn't answer. He stared back at his master, but Bahamut's look did not change. It was softer now, however. Part of it almost seemed to be pleading with him…as if to say "let me go". And Ragnar could understand that. Bahamut's life had been a sad story. People like him arose from time to time to give him brief companionship…but there was no true companionship for the immortal. Were their places exchanged…he knew, without a doubt, he'd wish the same. He also knew that there would only be one real thing holding him back if he were the esper…and that would be his friendship with the human in front of him. He knew at that what this really was. He knew that Bahamut had been more than ready to perform this junction for a while. The only thing left to hold him back was Ragnar. He wanted him to consent to it. He wanted him to let him carry it out without regrets.

Ragnar's face began to fall, and his head started to lower.

"You're…my master."

"And the ultimate destiny of all masters is not to live forever, but to be content that they raised a fine student who will surpass them and carry on their legacy." Bahamut responded softly. "You, Ragnar, are a fine student. Finer than many I have ever seen. You have a deep love for this world and for the old things of this world. You respect it and the life within it. You have the legacy of the Cetra within you. All the things that the espers considered worth protecting and saving I'm certain that you will uphold. You have grown powerful and noble in my eyes. There is no other human on the face of Gaia I would prefer to junction with. No other human I would trust the fate of this world too."

Ragnar kept his head bowed and said nothing. His mouth was tight and his throat dry. He tried to swallow it back and keep his eyes from stinging. As he stood there…a shadow slowly came up to him and fell over him. It halted in front of his body, and a hand went out and placed on his shoulder. Feeling this, the youth raised his eyes up to the esper.

His face was softer now, kinder and more content.

"If you truly think of me as great and that you owe me anything for what I've taught you…you will do me this honor and accept this gift. Not break my heart with your sadness."

Ragnar paused there again for a long time, looking up to him. His throat and eyes began to break here…and tears slowly began to roll down his cheeks. In the end, he came forward and embraced the esper again. This time Bahamut fully returned it. There the two stood, and held for a long time as Ragnar once again wept. And as they held in that illusionary forest…Bahamut began to weep as well. Not for himself…but for the fact that he had to make his pupil so sad…and the fact that he would be leaving him soon. Mortal though he was…it was the few exceptional mortals in the whole of his life that he valued more than long, empty, lonely years. Ragnar's grip grew fiercer, and his tears intensified for a few minutes. Yet at long last, they began to subside again. And as they did subside…though he had never said it…his answer was clear.

Bahamut was still embracing him when his own tears dried and he began to speak softly again.

"…So long as my power remains in you…that check will remain on Aerith's potential transformation. Therefore, do not release my power until Sephiroth is dead."

Ragnar sniffed and gave a nod.

"Yet when he is dead…do release it. At that time, I will return to the Lifestream and to my family. Until then, I will always be with you. And after that, I will continue to watch you for the rest of your days."

Another nod.

"One final word of warning, Ragnar." Bahamut continued. "Take this as your 'trump card'. You can fuse yourself to my energy as Rydia did before you. Fuse yourself normally and your power will grow even greater than what you will be after the junction. Fuse yourself totally…and your body will become even mightier than that. But know also this…your flesh will be too weak to handle that level of power for long. Do not do it unless you have no other choice. That said…you will have to train even harder even after the basic junction for us to have a chance against him."

One final nod. After that, Bahamut was silent. Ragnar was as well. Still the two embraced for a few more moments. The forest around them once more began to vanish…only this time it was into a growing darkness. Shadows were forming throughout it in every direction, and they slowly began to move in, blotting out the woods.

"…Goodbye, master." Ragnar finally managed to choke out.

"Farewell, Ragnar." The esper slowly answered.

As the woods continued to vanish around them and the sky grew dark, Bahamut burned into his memory the presence and feeling of his student. Then, however…it was done, and he did not break his own heart any longer. As the rest of the forest turned into nothing, he closed his eyes…and began to focus.

---

So sleepy…

I have to go home and sleep. No need to worry about Ragnar. Tomorrow he will be fine. I can go home and sleep. Tomorrow he will be fine.

Of course he'll be fine, won't he? He'll be right as rain, good as new, and…and…

…Didn't he have a cast?

He'll be fine tomorrow though…

Tomorrow…

Tomorrow…they'll do exploratory surgery on him…

Do I hear something?

So sleepy…I have to go home and sleep…

His arm won't be better…that…that will take days…and he needs surgery…

Tomorrow…he'll…be fine…but…he needs to have surgery…

He needs to heal…

I heard something again…what is it?

I'm sleepy…but…not as much as I was a moment ago…

Tomorrow…he'll be in bed… He'll be healing… He'll need a transfusion… He's in bad shape…he's hurt…

I don't feel so sleepy…

What is it saying? Where are you going?

I…I can't sleep. I want to say and find out what they're going to do…

Tomorrow…he won't be fine.

I don't feel tired.

I'm worried about Ragnar.

That voice…it's gruff…it's…Cid.

"Hello? Aerith? You hearin' me in there?"

Aerith's eyes fluttered, and suddenly the spell was broken. She opened her eyes fully and immediately was surprised. She wasn't in the hospital anymore. To her shock…she was on one of the streets of Midgar, and she didn't know where. The wind was blowing and cold, and yet only now did she feel a chill from it. She didn't know how she had got here…but it was dark and here she was. Her blank look that she had a moment ago disappeared, and she began to look around in total confusion. Where was this place? Had she walked here? Why? Why wasn't she in that room with Ragnar? When did she leave?

As she turned around a bit, she finally recognized someone. Standing in front of her and looking rather grumpy as always was Cid. He was giving her a queer look, crooking his mouth and brow. Nearby, blinking and looking equally confused, was that one young man in the army…Commander Mack.

Aerith winced a moment and held a hand to her brow. She felt like she was waking up from a dream. "…Cid?" She asked incredulously. "What…what am I doing…out here?"

This seemed to surprise both men. Mack, on his part, stayed quiet and scratched his head. As for Cid, he snorted and crossed his arms.

"I was about to ask you that myself." He answered back. "Here we are walkin' to the hospital to see what that little runt's managed to do to himself, and all of the sudden we see you walkin' down the street, your eyes as big as saucers and lookin' like some movie vampire was callin' you out for a drink. When I ask you what the hell you're doin', first you don't answer…then you start slowin' down and lookin' kinda confused…sort of like how you are now…then you suddenly snap out of it. You're actin' almost as freaky as Cloud was back at the Temple."

Aerith shook her head, and tried to remember anything that Cid had said. But it was useless. She remembered only putting down her head on Ragnar's mattress. After that…the next thing she remembered was waking up from a dream right here. This was strange. Was she sleepwalking? If so…then why? She had never done that before? And to go this far away from the hospital…

Suddenly, she realized she didn't know how far she was. She turned and looked back behind her…and was shocked. The hospital was two blocks away by now. She had walked this far away, and didn't even know it. How in the world had that happened? If she was that oblivious…then she was lucky no one had been driving by or that she hadn't wandered into some alley. Yet this didn't make any sense… How could she possibly have gotten this…?

"You ain't spacin' out on me again, are you?"

Aerith shook her head here, and then turned around to Cid again. "Oh…oh no." She answered. "It's just…I don't know how I got here. I honestly can't remember. It's sort of scaring me…"

Cid just gave a frown in reply and kept his arms crossed. "Probably been worryin' too much about that kid…ain't been gettin' enough sleep. You're startin' to act goofy. You should probably head on home about now. You look tired enough to where you need to lie down yourself. I don't think he'll get up and walk away before tomorrow. And I'm headin' over there. He tries to code blue while you're away, I'll smack him around a bit until you come back."

Cid's offer at gruff humor did little to comfort the Cetra. This was too weird. She suddenly had an urge to go back to the hospital. Maybe something there had been the cause.

"Thanks…but I'm alright now. I think I'll head back with you and…"

BOOM

Aerith, Cid, and Mack all cried out in unison as a sonic boom from far up the street sent all three crashing forward to the ground. They all collapsed into a pile on each other, with the hapless Mack at the bottom and Aerith crashing down on top. A glow lit up the world behind them. An echoing cry rippled through the city as everyone else within a five block radius froze and snapped around in surprise. The world seemed to go dead as it blasted through the air.

Aerith stayed collapsed on Cid for a brief moment…until he began to grumble and complain. When he did, she blinked and began to look up at the street again. All of the electrical lights had gone out. Something had blown them…some great force rippling through the air. And yet…she could still see very well. Some sort of glow was illuminating the sky from behind her. Seeing this, she turned and looked back to the source.

The Cetra soon gasped, as did anyone else looking at this. A large section of the side of the hospital had been blown up, scattering stone, plaster, and metal everywhere on the street below. From the side of the hospital that had blown…a glorious golden light was shining out as brilliantly as the sun. It was blinding to even try to look at, and sending up a light so strong and powerful that it illuminated the world for miles around. Bolts of energy charged with the same brightness shot out like lightning and snaked into nearby buildings and the ground as the huge aura blazed. It was like a miniature sun had ignited within the hospital, captivating everyone in visual range and filling with shock everyone else.

Aerith, however…thought only of one thing.

Ragnar…

She didn't know why she had gone out to this street or what was going on…but something inside her told them that they were somehow related. Fear filled her heart about what had happened to the youth. Immediately…she wanted to be back there. With surprising speed and strength for one of her frame, Aerith pushed herself off of the hapless Cid and Mack and got to her feet. Then, she tore off full speed for the hospital.

Despite her lack of stamina, Aerith had the power to carry herself all the way back there. As she did, she saw emergency generators begin to turn on lights in nearby stores and buildings as people exited their apartments and homes to stare out in shock at the light. Taxis halted and driver and passenger alike came out to see the glorious phenomenon. Some recoiled in fear…but most were so captivated by the light that they could only stare blankly at it burn. No one attempted to stop Aerith as she ran closer and closer to the hospital. And she didn't stop as the glow became more blinding, and as the bolts snaked out randomly in ways that were closer and closer to striking her. She thought only of Ragnar and of getting to him as soon as she possibly could.

At last, she reached the front doors of the hospital. The receptionist and staff had already cleared the area, and were now at a safe distance watching the glory with everyone else. An emergency generator was already on in the building despite the damage, and the doors managed to slide open to let her in. Within the front lobby, however, power was flickering from the cut wiring, no doubt due to the blast. The staff that were still within were scrambling, attempting to get the remaining patients out as quickly as possible. But it was nearly impossible with even emergency power cut. It was chaotic, but nothing stopped Aerith from running through. The elevators were out, but she went right to the stairs and quickly began to ascend them. Taking two at a time, panting and sweating and yet not stopping, she ascended to the floor with the ER.

Once she was finally out, she nearly burst through the heavy metal door and ran out onto the floor. Already, it was mostly empty here. There had been only one patient in it tonight, and it seemed as if the staff had already deserted. Aerith might have wondered how they could so easily abandon just one person…had not the burning and sizzling sound grown even louder as she reached this floor. As she rushed past the waiting room and into the hall of the ER itself…she froze for a brief moment. Ahead of her, where the entrance to Ragnar's room had been…the blinding light was shining and the bolts of energy were snaking out and sweeping through the hall. For a second, she was stalled. What now?

However, as if in response, the light seemed to die down. The glare became more bearable, and the bolts of energy seemed to recede back into the room. Aerith paused again…but her fear for Ragnar took over. She boldly ran down the hallway again, charging for the end as quickly as she could. The whole time, a fear inside her of a bolt coming out and striking her remained, but never materialized. Coming closer, she saw that Ragnar's room and the adjoining ones had indeed been obliterated. It was from him room that the eruption in the side of the hospital had come, and she continued to hear burning and see a blinding light as she came.

At last, she reached the edge, and then turned to look inside. Her beautiful green eyes expanded as she gasped.

The room itself was annihilated. It was nothing but a cavernous ruin now. All of the hospital equipment was smashed…and flattened against the ground or ceiling. The light had blasted out a roughly ellipsoid area around the room. And there, in the center, glowing brilliantly even now…was Ragnar.

His dressings hung off of him in tattered rags as his body hovered suspended in midair. A golden fire completely enveloped him, wrapping him in its flames and seeming to be his new clothing. His eyes were closed, his mouth hung open, and his head was tilted back. It was as if he was basking in the golden light. He seemed limp enough, but in one hand he held, of all things, Ragnarok. It was bigger, sharper, and deadlier looking than ever. Now more than a flame…it glimmered like the sun. There he held, seeming to be washed in the flames that swept over him…or perhaps being born again from them like the immortal Phoenix.

Yet at last…the light faded. The aura vanished and dissipated, and with it went the sound of burning. The only thing that continued to glow was Ragnarok. It wasn't simply reflecting light now, but gleamed with a golden luster. Invisible forces lowered Ragnar's body to the ground, and set him gently on his feet. His legs were strong, and they stiffened as he landed and held him there. He stood for a moment head still bent back, still seeming to drink in the flames that had surrounded him.

Then, his mouth slowly closed, and his head lowered back to a straight position. He slowly drew in a deep breath. Aerith…slowly easing down, continued to stare at him in surprise and a bit of fear, wondering what had just happened to him. But as her head lowered and she stared more closely at him…she realized something else. His wounds had faded. His bashed in face was smooth and clean again. His scars had turned again into soft, healthy flesh. More than that…his muscles suddenly seemed larger and tighter. His very presence seemed stronger now, and his spirit was greater too…far greater than Aerith had ever detected.

Slowly…Ragnar's eyes opened. They fixed on Aerith when they did. The woman actually recoiled in response…for she didn't see Ragnar in those eyes. Well…she did…but not the same youth he had been. His eyes were suddenly much wiser and older, and bore power within them that surpassed anything else she had ever beheld. And because of this she was scared for a moment. After seeing all of what had transpired, she feared she wasn't looking at Ragnar anymore but something else.

"Who…who are you?" She finally managed to speak as she drew back from the youth.

Ragnar inhaled deeply here again. He blinked and stayed quiet. For a moment…it seemed as if he didn't know the answer to that question either. But then…something happened. His eyes softened, and something more youthful came into them. He relaxed a bit, and seemed to be more like himself. Even his spirit seemed to suddenly recede a bit, and become gentler and more familiar to Aerith. Then, he looked at the woman with greater realization. He smiled.

"Aerith…it's me." He answered her. "Don't be afraid."

The Cetra hesitated, not believing him initially. However…as she stared at him longer…she began to feel that familiar spirit again. She began to feel that sense of comfort that she felt with being close to him again, that she was among a kindred soul. She slowly relaxed, and began to stare at him more closely, as if scrutinizing him. He was different, she concluded. That was true. His spirit was much stronger…and he suddenly looked wiser and mightier. And yet…she still felt the same way around him. She recognized his presence, and began to recognize more about him.

"It…it is you…isn't it?" She finally said. "But…what's happened to you?"

Ragnar hesitated here, and his smile faded for a moment. He looked confused again, and bowed his head slightly as if thinking.

"…I don't know." He finally said. After that, he looked back up to her. "But don't be afraid. I'm still Ragnar. I've received a gift. Things are going to change now, Aerith. We've been on the receiving end long enough. We're going to strike back. We're going to stop Sephiroth and save this world. I lost this morning…but I'm not going to lose again. Everything's going to be alright. I promise."

Aerith didn't understand this. Something seemed strange about the way that Ragnar was talking. And for a while, she fixated only on this, and tried to figure out what had just happened and why.

But it didn't last. Ragnar wasn't broken and suffering anymore. He was whole and healthy again. His despair was gone…and suddenly he seemed far more confident and strong. The fear of how much pain he would be in or what he would have to suffer through as doctors attempted to cure him faded, as Aerith realized he was alive and healthy again. And on seeing this…she began to not care so much about the means. It was him, and he was back on his feet again. And somehow…his words did fill her with confidence. Somehow when he spoke, she realized that he was right. It was as if some darkness or gloom that was looming over them had broken…and that his brilliant glory had been the rising of a new dawn. Things were going to change. She felt hope inside her that she didn't know they had left.

With that in mind…Aerith slowly began to smile as well. Her confidence came back, and after a moment longer she ran into the room to embrace him.

---

The resolution on the camera was choppier than Maritza desired, but it showed enough. There she lay in the hospital bed, her vitals being monitored. She had gotten worse. Her heartbeat and breathing was now irregular, and her EKGs were erratic. She was throwing up anything they tried to feed her. Only IV fluid was taken in by her system. She kept oscillating between burning up and ice cold. She had to be bleeding internally from several different points now with all the blood in her urine, stool, and stomach contents. If that wasn't enough…there were now these large lesions that were appearing on her skin. All reports were indicating those were necrosis…

Maritza hesitated as she saw this image…and noticed something. She hadn't moved in a while. Frowning, Maritza reached up and smacked the side of the television. The image jumped…and sure enough, the still frame of Krystea lying motionless was replaced by a sudden view of her vomiting over the side of her bed. She sighed at the outdated technology, and then turned to the side. Her head medical researcher was there, watching the same video.

"Ok…now what's going on with her?" She asked.

"Crazy as it seems…the new cells are changing their behavior." The researcher answered. "Before they just multiplied and integrated with her system. But we're reasoning once they reached the point that one out of every ten cells her in her body was one of them…they changed their intentions. It's crazy…but it looks like they're trying to replace her cells. They're actually forming tissues within her flesh. Naturally, this is interacting with everything. She's got a layer of lung tissue screwing up her lungs, sheets of tunica externa floating around in her blood vessels, tubules warping her kidneys… Her immune system is going crazy on the biggest autoimmune response I've ever seen. Her body is at war with itself…and the new cells are winning. They aren't able to divide so much anymore, now that the body is attacking them, but they're causing the body to kill more of itself for every one of them it takes out. It's only getting more aggressive with time."

"Will she die?"

"I don't know. If these new tissues try to take it to an aggressive level…assuming they can get away with that…she might."

"That's not an option. Keep her alive through whatever means necessary. Even if you have to cut her open and pull out the tissue yourself."

The researcher sighed. "Very well, madam…"

Maritza turned away and back to the screen. She frowned as she saw it had frozen again. She gave it another smack, and Krystea's hunched over body turned to one being bedridden again.

"How long has it been doing this?" She asked.

The researcher looked at it and frowned. "It only started acting up a week ago. Usually it sorted itself out. But last night it got really bad. One of the shifts didn't even notice they were looking at the same still frame for five hours before they changed it."

Maritza's eyes widened as she turned to the researcher.

"What the heck…? Are you guys getting sentimental about this monitor or something? Replace it already! That's pathetic! She could have gotten up and did a couple laps around the Dome last night in that time frame!"

"Given her condition, I think that's highly…"

"Don't make excuses for it! Just fix the damn thing! Give me a break, Santosh…you're making me wonder why I hire you people!"

---

To be continued...