29: Love Needs its Weight in Corpses

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The men ignited with Lifestream just seemed to keep coming for more, trained solely on the brutal trespasser, Sephiroth, who deftly staved them off with no more than his fists and Ancient knowledge. But the rabid green mist would revive them like semi-mindless dolls with guns; lasers and bullets flew at random in their dizzy attempts to recover. No more overcome than a trapped beast, even with his mutated arm wanting to whip like a live wire, the gray-haired fighter stood more than a match for these abominations.

From his modest perch overlooking the battle, Vincent contemplated the unknown origins of these things. People like these did not just come out of thin air. Were they part of the rash of monsters that had taken to Midgar? Or were they people mutated by some power that made them walking torchlights and as hostile as wild Crimson Hounds? The gunman chuckled into his fist, a morose rumble as it rose from the back of his throat. These conditions matched those of SOLDIER who only partly succeeded in response to advanced Mako showers. They'd be strong, yes, but unable to control the Planet's energy inside their very un-Planetlike bodies. Ultimately, they'd become walking monster seeds.

Sephiroth had been the only true success in that regard. And as that sole success, he easily broke the energy's will to make the puppet men fight on and on. Vincent almost envied the fact that he couldn't quite compete anymore, ever since Chaos had been ousted. Once a man, always a man.

"Heh…"

"Don't think I can't see you there," Sephiroth shouted over the shoulder. "Drana's mine!"

The man dashed off shortly thereafter, followed by a discreet gray fog, a thing too curious to overlook. It felt peaceful at best, and that was why Vincent had to figure out why it trailed Sephiroth.

---

Sephiroth's arm throbbed. The eerie men's onslaught threw it into constant shock, tugging at his skin and sending raw bolts of pain through his chest. Just like his unexpected brush with the summons of ice and water back in Junon, Jenova reeled with a fear he would never understand in her. It'd been safe to assume that with her body and cells dispersed so far beyond a full reunion, she was weak as any common beast. But, as a parasite, she would be eternally stubborn for survival, which lent her enough strength to cling to Sephiroth's body.

A stab of shame pierced him from out of nowhere. A fear that he might not make it. A shy terror that he might lose everything, and Jenova would win over his strong mind and soul with her primitive ways. He wasn't used to worrying like this, or about it, so he fumed with natural hatred at Shinra to fight it off. But it lingered. Until I get her back, I can't feel safe with Mother. Something's wrong with me.

The farther Sephiroth traveled into the bowels of Shinra HQ, the more the building and its foundation began to moan and howl. Gales raced through the empty halls frequently, tossing his hair to and fro and shifting Lucrecia's shadow as she hovered ahead of him. Neither had said a word since entering the lower floors of the building. The umbra stopped quite often to gather its bearings, a few ethereal whispers slipping out every now and then, then back to checking halls and doors like a dutiful hall warden. Meanwhile, Sephiroth noted more pieces of paper lying around, undoubtedly confirming that the path they took was correct.

"That stupid man is following us. I can't sense Drana, but him…"

"Vincent…"

"Ah yes," Sephiroth chimed. "So you're the miserable soul he's so taken with. That he would even try to take her from me to have you? I despise you even more."

The shadow whimpered lowly.

For a time, the halls donned that antiseptic whiteness beneath the dust and grime. The two had entered an experimental area but it quickly faded to industrial bronze and copper. Any light present went from dark gray to dirty auxiliary reds and yellows. The atmosphere looked as if that of a reactor's. It wouldn't have been far from the truth, of course. Despite Shinra's efforts in the past to keep their industrial secrets unseen, Sephiroth had learned of another reactor built beneath Midgar. The prototypal reactor that had elevated the city to its glory from infancy.

The reactor hadn't been covered up for its mere existence— that, Sephiroth knew— but something Shinra flawlessly achieved in erasing from all records. But what that was didn't matter now. The company was dead. Everything it stood for and safeguarded meant nothing to him anymore.

"I remember this place." Lucrecia's shadow slowed to a stop. "My research about the Lifestream began here…"

"So?" Sephiroth said rather indignantly.

"So, I didn't see until... It's kind of fitting that Saristis Noah would bring Drana here. Where I first postulated such things."

"Stop talking."

"Mm…"

----

A big, furry red mound reclined next to the wild flowerbed when Tifa entered Aerith's church. It was rare for the non-human, yet still flesh and blood member of their group to come so far from his home in Cosmo Canyon, slightly rarer to come to the church. As per a custom of his people, he could 'visit', or rather, honor her from elsewhere than at erected or designated memorials.

The fiery mound shifted at the sound of the woman's footsteps, then slowly rose to its haunches. A somber, ocher eye met Tifa's gaze.

"Nanaki, you nearly scared me, you know that?" she breathed. "We don't see you out here very often."

"Ah, well," a sly young voice began, "there are still duties to be preformed for my mate before our courtship is complete. Er... you know how that goes."

"Heh, how is, er... what's her name again?"

"Deneh. She's fine, so far as I'm told." The fiery red beast shrugged its tattooed shoulders then fully rose onto its long legs to approach Tifa, offering a soulful nod of greeting. "We're both very nervous, however."

"Well, it's for the good of your race so... Hang in there." She smiled and playfully patted Nanaki on his head of dark crimson mane. He dropped to his haunches once more, tossing a curious glance at the flowerbed he'd just been lounging next to. Tifa gathered herself on cue, inhaled deep, and said, "So you can see what's going on with Midgar…"

"It's a little hard not to," he replied softly. "The entire city appears to have gone crazy, in my humble opinion. As soon as I entered Midgar, a few monsters tried to make me lunch. I saw trees growing where there shouldn't be trees at all. Not yet."

"So, wait, why are you here?" Tifa asked.

"I came to visit Aerith's church, of course. And... see what all the fuss is about."

"Oh… Oh!" she exclaimed. "Did you see Vincent? He was supposed to be here, too, but…"

"I thought I smelled him around here. And Cloud, too. Recently. But no, I haven't seen either."

"Darn it, where could he have gone?" Tifa stepped to the side and walked towards the flowerbed spilling over with creepers. She gazed hard into the patch of red, yellow and blackish green, contemplating on all the places Vincent could have gone in this city. Nanaki came up beside her, his gold bracelets jingling, the tip of his tail casting a soft red glow, warming the backs of her shins.

"They weren't the only ones here, either," he added.

"Oh?"

"Turks."

"Turks?" the woman repeated in disbelief. She hadn't seen any of the Turks' faces since the days right before Meteorfall. She'd assumed they were dead, but finally knew better than to make that assumption when it came to Shinra. Like Reeve, virtually all of the higher-ups, and more, had been trained to survive. And they did. Until they got on Sephiroth and Jenova's bad side; not to mention, they opposed Cloud and his motley crew as the clincher.

What were the Turks doing in Midgar? Did they waylay Vincent for whatever ridiculous reason they could conjure? Tifa wondered and wondered.

"Oh... I know Reeve's busy but... Ah, I'm going for it, I'm calling him. If there's Turks here, then-"

"There's trouble?" Nanaki chimed in.

----

Seph... th... Se…

Sephiroth stopped suddenly on the grated walkway, which crossed directly over a giant of a bottomless vat that was the entire space below. It exuded the dullest blue-green glow, nearly drowning out Lucrecia's feeble shade and throwing dead shadows in every direction towards the equally abysmal ceiling. He peered straight up where weak red lights were clustered, doing very little to fight off the mass of darkness caught in between.

Shaken to the core, he gasped sharply. " It's her."

"Sephiroth?"

"It's felt like an eternity..." His eyes fluttered out of a swell of ecstasy, his heart beginning to drum crazily in his chest. "We must be close. Are we close?"

"I-I… Maybe. There are other experimental areas beyond this point."

"Mm," he seemed to moan in delight. "Hear that, Mother? Drana's near. Your little tirade will soon be over. But let's get you some real blood in the meantime. My consolation prize to you."

"Sephiroth... Focus on Drana. Remember? Please."

"Do not tell me what to do," rumbled Sephiroth. Steadily fighting off his drunken euphoria, he flexed his arm and back muscles, relishing the strain Jenova put on them. With slight pain burning on his skin, he could steel himself once again. It would fuel him onward. To stop now for a brief thought in bliss swore defeat. No, there was only triumph to be had.

"Why do I bother... but…" Lucrecia's shadow sighed in due exhaustion then raised a muddled hand towards the end of the grated path. A lonely door stood painted diagonally with black and yellow stripes, sporting a blank space where a red warning sign would have been situated. Unnerving as it was to think about, Sephiroth was sure it had fallen into the abyss below. Like he'd once done himself, in another place and time.

"Hmph."

"Look," the umbra begged. "Someone's nearby. It's not Vincent... Probably more of those, those things."

"Pity," Sephiroth pouted, tapping his chin. "They're lucky I didn't bring Masamune with me. You think I've been rough now? Oh... no."

"I wish... I'd realized in the past how much Shinra enjoyed making monsters from innocents… How I could have saved so many people... Myself. And you."

Sephiroth moved quickly to the door, grabbing its double handles then proceeding to haul it open. With screeches and pops, it surrendered easily to his strength. And from out of the doorway, the muzzle of a gun stabbed into his throat. The cold metal snout forced him back against the railing, led on by a young, twitching man dressed in fatigues.

"Well, well…"

"Don't think I'm, I'm ignorant of who you are, zombie," he sputtered. "I got him!"

"Sayin' shit like that always jinxes the operation," spouted an angry voice from the corridor beyond. "Shut the fuck up!"

"Just c'mon already!"

"Children like you should really read up on whom to point guns at," Sephiroth whispered.

Just as he snapped up the muzzle of the gun in his hand, a crack and spray of fire burst out under his chin, followed by a spurt of blood. The anxious militiaman staggered back, gripping his weapon tight, only to be yanked into the corridor by his hidden companions.

Jolted briefly into solidarity, Lucrecia's milky skinned shadow retreated a few steps at the sight of the reeling, injured Sephiroth. His body bent far back over the railing, yet luckily not enough for him to fall. Instead he propelled himself forward and swung around the metal door into the hall where several men awaited with more than eager guns. Fire spilled out of his fist, his throat pumped a flimsy trickle of gore, and his eyes flashed hot with green light. His arm of Jenova abruptly popped out of place, whipped forward, shaving metal off the top of the doorway while almost seeming to take his whole body with it.

Lucrecia gazed down at her slim, transparent arms, then up at Sephiroth who ravaged the corridor full of men like a true beast. She fell soundlessly on her posterior, mortified at the sickening screams and thuds from what she couldn't or didn't want to see. And when a bloody, beaten body sailed from the hall right to her bare see-through feet, her firmly defined shape fell apart. At last, when Sephiroth stalked out of the starkly shadowed hallway, dragging the man who shot him in the throat by the face, she returned to her dark umbra.

"Now," Sephiroth rasped, spitting blood over the railing, "this is what happens when you shoot me. Goodbye."

A subtle fling of his arm sent the man flying into the abyss.

"See, ghost? I will not be stopped."

"You just can't live without getting blood on your hands, can you, Sephiroth?"

"You bite me, I bite back," he answered curtly. "Simple as that."

"Drana, help him…"

"Yes, Drana. Help me."