13
"I want to be a hero. I want to travel the world, picking people up when they're down, wiping their tears when they're sad, lifting them up higher when they find the light. I want to touch everyone, their hearts, their souls. With my own two hands. I want to show them love. It's kind of a... newfangled dream.
But in a world like this, it's actually pretty dumb, huh? But I can't take back what I've said once I've said it. It's do or die." -Drana
-----
"Time to check in with Anton on his progress."
Saristis extracted his phone from his usual inner coat pocket and punched a number. Holding the device to his ear, he paced about the room, occasionally glancing at the work Aridale studiously organized on the computer. She was so adept at data entry, he figured her to have been mistress of a legendary secretariat in an old life. She certainly had the plain beauty for it, but her crudity left something to be desired.
Eventually, his colleague answered the phone. Tremendous whirring preceded the man's voice. "Emerson."
"How's the first flyover?" Saristis asked happily.
"Nothing out of the ordinary. Except for a little house or two in the middle of nowhere."
"Little houses?" the scholar echoed.
"I doubt it'd be that easy. I mean, that's almost hiding in plain sight."
"It's also almost hiding from where everyone can see you," Saristis noted. Emerson grunted some agreement on the other end. "Listen, scout them out on foot. How many homes did you say were out there?"
"We discovered two residences so far. I'll get right on it."
"Should be a piece of cake in no time flat. Can't wait to hear the results. Saristis out." The scientist blithely snapped the phone closed and returned it to its resting place. He looked up and spotted Quelin sitting at the window, rocking back and forth in his chair and anxiously biting at his nails which one was sure was little more than slivers on beds of shredded flesh by now. A sad yet expectant grin formed on the scholar's slim, white lips. Then the observed suddenly fled from the window and flitted downstairs as if he sensed the tender scrutiny upon him.
"Hojo's reports never say very much, do they?" Aridale voiced.
"No, he was fond of keeping a lot to himself," the other answered, twisting in her direction.
"I'm going to look up the entries under Gast and Crescent. And who was that other guy? He liked using a gun. Do you remember his name?"
"Actually, no I don't." Saristis scratched his head and then his chin. "He died rather suddenly while I was an intern. But I think he worked in tandem with Dr. Crescent."
"Maybe the name'll show up with hers." The woman continued to click and tap at the keyboard with honored dexterity. Her superior had to admit that when she wasn't fighting with Emerson or flaunting her vanity like a third, golden arm, she was a hard worker.
"What are you doing, anyways?" the redhead asked, jumping behind his colleague. She shrugged.
"Needing a few refreshers and cleaning up information," Aridale returned. "Tried to look over Hojo's notes on Weapon, but there's too little. Looking over Gast's but at the time, his greatest study revolved around Jenova, so nothing of much import there. Crescent was part of that study, too, but she had her own theses that sort of fell through the cracks. About Lifestream and whatnot. And you know I can't even find her original files. I think they were stolen, because all I get are stupid little keywords sans citations, and pointless excerpts from missing dissertations."
"Hmm, yes, her work being absent from our archives is rather suspicious. It's been gone for quite a while, actually." Saristis stroked his rounded chin and walked towards the window where Quelin had previously perched. To his surprise, he spied the man shuffling around in the square below while a pair of children gazed on. A poor mouse lost in its maze. The scholar found it a sad but slightly amusing sight to behold. This was the devastating power of Mako poisoning.
"I need Kit here. I'm sure he'll have what we're missing in that blond noggin of his." Aridale rose from her seat and stalked downstairs on long, plump legs. Saristis's eyes meandered from her toes to the top of her head as she sauntered around the corner and out the door. The idea was laughable, but he saw no harm in entertaining it. A good woman in the field of science was uncommon. Jenna Aridale was strong, exceptionally strong to be capable of full on verbal brawls with Emerson. She took pride in herself, in her work. Maybe even her allure.
As a scientist, he abhorred his attraction to her. Work came first. But oh, to dream on those lonely and sleepless nights.
"Ah, Sar, how you slay yourself," he muttered.
---
I tried repeatedly to contact Sephiroth, thinking and baiting and thinking some more. But I was always greeted with a shroud of black that wanted to eat the eyes out of my head. The more I tried, the stronger it became. And the stronger it became, the more terror attacked me. Poison. I started to see this poison everywhere. Soon came the knowledge of it hardwired into the bodies and souls of the ones that walked, slithered, soared and swam across the Planet. The beasts, the monsters, even the few and unlucky human beings.
I felt the poison. Suffered the poison.
I wanted to stop it so much.
Sephiroth still bore the greatest burden of all. Having bore it from his mother, her having bore it from who knew what before her. I hadn't noticed earlier. I'd only seen that he was a cold and lonely, warped and bloody creature; he was so distant, even now, that he seemed to live on an isle of no man, at the heart of the farthest sea. With our link severed, I had to think if it was loneliness that was all he needed. A path of solitude to walk, the exact one his mother had taken, understanding that they carried a bane unlike any other. The original bane.
The one that people called Jenova, that Aerith called the Calamity.
"Goodbye, flowers," I whispered. Then, more loudly, "I have to go for a little while. But I'll see you again soon. Just going to look for Sephiroth. Huh... that man. He couldn't go a day, a day, without telling me to be in his custody at all times. And now he doesn't want to be anywhere near me. Doesn't even want to be found. Well, you're going to be found..."
Barefoot, I stamped from porch to plains. I held my head high, clenched my fists tight, and dug my toes into the cool grass and fine dirt. This firm standing would do me some good for my little mission, although there lied no clue in my head where to start. But the otherworldly fibers that bound me together urged me towards the setting sun. I was urged towards the light, as if it could guide me, protect me, and give me the strength to destroy the Calamity for good. But I didn't need all that. There wasn't going to be any Calamity fighting for me. I just needed to find Sephiroth.
The flimsy thing flew overhead yet again. The sky had certainly gotten noisy in the last few hours. Quick deduction pointed to the people that were searching for me. They plied the skies, but were slow to roam the earth. Only time would tell who caught up to whom, and regardless of the urgency, I was going to take my time. If my pursuers didn't, then I'd compliment them on their grasp for swift execution of priorities.
I took a deep breath and headed for the coast.
---
It was the end of another hard day renovating Shinra Mansion. Covered in dust and mold, Tifa ambled home with several workers in her wake, cellphone pressed to her cheek, prepared to call or to answer but it was obvious neither was going to happen. Because, it had already happened an hour or so before. Her call made the status of vain, though not absolute. She'd gotten a hello, a 'How are things?' and a goodbye. But she failed to achieve her goal.
She didn't ask for rescue or guidance. Though she wanted to; she wanted to call again.
But she let Cloud be.
Despite the promise that was made, Tifa had to force herself to realize that she couldn't always call on him every time she needed to be carried to safety or every time she needed an ass kicked when she wasn't able. She relied on him for inner strength, giving the fact that she possessed self-reliance little thought. Too little thought. She wanted to keep Cloud close but in the years since Meteorfall, it'd grown a bit difficult.
Tifa knew Cloud still had problems, problems that he needed to sort out on his own time. So she called him home no more than absolutely necessary, or to drop in when he could and see Denzel, Marlene and the other orphans that looked up to him with some of the brightest eyes in mankind. To show that he hadn't dropped off the face of the earth, he performed that duty without fail. Now, if only he stayed longer.
A brooding bundle of red and black shortly caught her eye as it hovered above town. Like a scheming, hungry hawk, Vincent squatted on the four-cornered convex dome of the water tower, the slightest breezes not daring to ruffle his dark plumage, if it could be called that. Slightly taken aback, Tifa raised a hand in greeting but her companion made no indication that he noticed her below. She shrugged, though a tad offended, and turned to enter her house with her gaggle of workers.
---
The ocean ebbed and flowed; waves danced and rolled far out in the distance to swallow the horizon when and wherever it could. The waning daytime waters were glittering as gulls bobbed to and fro, sinking into the blue then rising like fat, white born-again phoenixes of the sea with their bounties. This was the picture of tranquility, a picture I'd hoped Sephiroth was attending as well in his absence. But I saw no other soul wandering the sands as I did. There were only birds lounging and waddling about, notably a gang of chubby feathered bodies colliding over a small black cloud.
A cloud.
I could smell the death-like stink wafting over the mile. Sephiroth had been here but long since moved on.
The poison gripped me, choked me with microscopic fear. As long as I stood this far away, I knew it couldn't hurt me. But it was hurting the birds, drowning them one by one in a mist of rotting feathers. Their anguished cries left me no choice. I walked towards the mini-massacre before I knew it. The stench grew more powerful threefold, burning the rims of my eyes. The gulls flopped and squawked and vied for the sky but the black cloud, which emanated from an odd dark clump in the sand, stood the unshakable master over their demise.
As I drew closer, some of the still living seabirds worked themselves into a frenzy, crazily scuttling and dragging around me. I lifted my hands up in feigned surrender.
"Okay, okay," I chanted to myself, mustering courage that still seemed too little despite what I planned to do.
I got down on my hands and knees and crawled towards the clump when I was just a few yards away. The gulls around me continued to shriek and sputter as I closed in on the spot of death and dying. The miasmic cloud winced at my advancing hand. The skin of my fingers began to creep in reaction to the poison, shreds peeling away and floating into the air like ash. I moaned and flinched, watching my fingers fade into shafts of light.
The black blob squealed like a crushed mouse, bubbling and steaming, its haze thickening and stinking more and more like putrid flesh.
I jittered out a laugh as the lump transmuted entirely into a cloud. The afflicted gulls either uselessly flapped into stillness or made their escape into the sea and sky. I raised my hand up towards them, which looked like a strangely shaped lamp now more than anything, hoping that I could have healed them before they left but it was too late. I looked down at the gulls' fallen brethren. Half molted and decaying. They were too far beyond death for me to revive, in any fashion.
I frowned.
Thankfully, the cloud of venom had dispersed.
"Well, that was fun," I told myself wearily. Instinct told me to hold my hand close, though in actuality, there wasn't much to nurse. Lifestream was only as tangible as water; but the exposure of it and the stench that clung to my dissolved fingers still told me to react as much. "But I wanted to find you, not this... little evil lump trying to eat these poor birds. Where are you? I don't know where to go…
"Planet, Sephiroth can't be, can't be there, can he?"
I stared into the sand beneath my knees. Impulsively, I buried my hand deep under one knee, and turned my sights to the water. Evening was fast approaching; the bottom of the sky melted from gold on up to orange, to subtle blues and purples. I'd never left home after dusk under my own supervision, not since my journey from Icicle to the outside world. My heart fluttered with the anticipation of a new adventure folding out in front of me. Escape from treacherous Nibelheim. The great search for Sephiroth. The-
"You look like you're a long ways from home," a voice pointed out.
"Yes, I…" I glanced up over my shoulder. My mouth fell agape. "I, I'm looking for someone but... I think I'm lost."
"Well, we can do something about that. What's your name, little lady?" asked the stocky, shorter one of the two men. His face was grave and grouchy coated with a poor attempt at humility. I squinted at the menacing crags trained around his mouth and eyes and across his broad forehead. And then there was his white coat. Was he related to the man that drove Sephiroth off the deep end?
I leered. "Oh um, my name's... Drana. Nice to meet you."
"Where do you live, Miss Drana? Perhaps we can escort you back home." The balding, crag-faced man offered me a meaty paw, which took me a while to accept. As he helped me to my feet, I saw his beady eyes running over me as though I were some sort of criminal. I heaved myself backwards, keeping my other hand hidden, and nodded my thanks.
"N, not too far from here," I told him. "I think, I've been walking for a while."
"Is something wrong with your hand, Miss?"
"Oh, um yeah," I chuckled. "Th-there was something icky in the sand. I knew better than to, than to touch it but you know, sometimes curiosity will get the best of you. It-it's just a scratch, though, nothing I can't-"
"Well, maybe we should take you to town, instead," the white-coated man suggested. His gruff tone was almost genial. "When dealing with injury by foreign substances, it's best to see a physician."
"No, really, I'm fine-"
"I insist."
"B-but-"
His big hand took hold of my shoulder and drew me close. He spoke lowly, "Listen, we're not here to hurt you. We saw what you were doing. Show us your hand. Please."
I cringed. "N, no, it's mine."
He rolled his eyes in exhaustion and then plucked a phone from out of nowhere. He motioned to his cohort, who was dressed plainly by comparison. The tight-lipped, cap wearing man nodded and stood next to me with the most disinterested look on his face. I tilted my head at him, trying to figure his situation. But as the exemplar of plainness, he was too tough to crack.
I waved my undamaged hand at the guy, to which he replied with, "Ma'am."
"What's going on?" I asked discreetly.
"I'm just a pilot," he said.
"Um…" Confused by his response, I faced the sea, keeping my injured hand near and hidden. So, they'd found me, I thought with a grimace. Since I left home, I'd entertained the idea of a big and fancy chase across the plains, the Planet, where Sephiroth and I were always one step ahead and our pursuers sported the dopiest expressions of loss and comedic anger in our wake. But it was just me, standing here and now, with a dope of a pilot and a chubby guy in a white coat talking on his phone.
A tiny static-laden noise sounded, like high-pitched cheeping. I peered over my shoulder to see the fat man dangling the phone far away from his ear while the noise trickled out into a torrent. Was that laughing?
"Pilot, we're leaving!" he exclaimed. "After we get back to Nibelheim, you take a break and refuel at Rocket Town, then it's Junon soon thereafter. Pronto, get her and let's move."
"You fool," I whispered. "You're a fool, Drana."