32: The End

"I'm sorry, I lied."

-----

Vincent stared distantly into the ceiling while lying motionless on the floor. A luminous ring of green lingered there, where he supposed the Lifestream had made its escape. Among other things. Meanwhile, somewhere in the background he could hear a commotion, of feet shuffling, voices shouting, clatters and crashes. No doubt Saristis's lackeys were trying to escape, too, or were already in the process of escaping, something he wouldn't have blamed them for doing. But as for he himself...

"Mr. Valentine. I jeopardize my utterly valuable life and limb coming here and... what happens? Saristis gets away. But don't worry; hopefully the WRO's taking care of that right now."

"... what?" Vincent squinted up to see a finely dressed figure in white looming over him, accompanied by several others dressed in stark but equally fine contrast. He abruptly grimaced at these former adversaries, letting his hand reach impulsively for his gun.

"Hey, chill, man, do we look like we wanna fight?"

"I had to have known," he said. "If the Turks are alive, then so is their master, Rufus Shinra. But apparently not quite immaculate…"

"You caught me," Rufus said and jokingly shrugged. The smug cripple leisurely approached the broken canister sitting in the room's center, meditating on the mess before turning back to Vincent. "Hm. Looks like our special lady isn't here, either. Am I to assume Saristis managed to whisk her off yet again? I swear-"

"No. They just... disappeared."

"Really." The pensive blond rocked twice on his heels, then returned to the gunman's side with a boyishly condescending look. "You know there's a Weapon outside?"

"What!" Vincent flew upright in the expectant shock that Rufus and his Turks were waiting for.

"I'll take that as a no," he nodded, his lips a sloping grin. "Yes, there is quite the Weapon hanging over Midgar. But it hasn't moved. We're confused, to say the least; as confused as the majestic yet slack-beaked Epiolnis watching for rain, not thinking it'll drown when it pours a few days later. Some birds are funny like that."

The gunman grimaced in silence.

"The people of Edge and Kalm have thrown themselves into instant panic," Tseng interjected, pulling a cell phone from his breast pocket. He lowered it into Vincent's wary hand, then pointed at its tiny glowing screen. "Take a look: This image was recorded about an hour ago, at Kalm. First, there are three bursts of what we assume to be Lifestream from intermittent sectors surrounding Midgar. Next, it gradually materializes into the shadow you see here. The biomechanical structure we've observed up close resembles any and all previously documented Weapons. The only thing lacking at the moment is hostility. Still... people are concerned, they're scared."

"Is this what you called...?"

"Whoa-ho, did I hear right?" The red-haired Turk strolled up to linger around Tseng's back, hands in his pants' pockets and balancing on his heels. "Someone summoned that? Sweet."

"It's not 'sweet,' Reno," warned the female Turk. "That thing could kill us all. I hate to say this but we don't exactly have the firepower of an entire army anymore. Not to face a thing like that, anyways."

"The WRO ain't any better," Reno grunted. "Unless they had something like Sister Ray... But they're way too eco-friendly for that, huh?"

Rufus glanced towards the ceiling, taking a moment to watch the glowing ring overhead fluctuate between light and darkness. Nodding, he dropped his gaze back down to Vincent and motioned towards the door with his cane. "I suggest we go topside; is that alright with you, Mr. Valentine?"

Vincent broke his silence with a small sound of agreement, getting quickly to his feet and dusting off his cape and pants. Reno, Rude, Tseng, and Elena shuffled out of the chamber before him and Rufus, with Reno politely holding the door ajar like a bellhop. The gunman glared unthinkingly at the young, once-president of Shinra, but considering his diplomacy in the nightmare so far, he was left with no choice. He'd cooperate for as long as it led him to a fitting resolution.

--

Reno whistled cheerfully as he piloted the unmarked helicopter from Shinra HQ's front step to the skies above. The Turk casually ascended along the ongoing length of a ribbed cylinder spiraling down into Midgar's wreckage, wide as the breadth of the tower it hugged. Between the ribs, a faint green glare ebbed and flowed with a resoundingly hollow groan that filled the air.

With that, it was decided.

This was part of the alleged Weapon floating over the ruined city.

Even at the copter's current altitude, all Vincent could see was the monster's complex silhouette and streaks of light flashing in and out of it. This Weapon would be the largest one of anything he'd ever see in life. Now he just hoped he wouldn't end up having to fight it, because the damned things were about as meaty as the Planet itself, and considerably more vicious.

"Next stop: The Weapon's fuckin' head," Reno sang.

"Reno, be careful," Elena grouched. "This isn't flight practice, we're scaling a gods-forsaken Weapon."

"Oh, don't tell me what to do. Do you know how to fly this thing? C'mon, let's switch seats and see what you can do. C'mon, I dare ya. Right now."

"Alright, alright, I can't fly a chopper, I know. Gods."

"Reno, shut up and keep flying," Tseng declared rather firmly from the copter's rear.

"Always riding my ass…"

"Wha-chish," Rude sounded.

"Oh for the love of…"

Vincent sat back against the seat and exasperatedly huffed. He let one tired eye roll in Rufus's direction and muttered, "The Turks were never this fussy when I was a member."

"I prefer to think of them as having... immense character," the blond replied, grinning dimly.

"... so what's your pitch on taking care of this thing?" the gunman queried.

"Oh, there's no pitch," Rufus shrugged. "At least... not until it makes a move."

"So we just let it sit here?"

"The WRO are looking into matters."

"How would you know what the WRO's doing?"

"Hey, someone has to keep up on current events," Rufus answered, his grin broadening.

"Too convenient," Vincent aired curtly. "...whatever."

The gunman straightened his back and peered out of the window, studying the mounting shape of the slim but colossal Weapon. Glancing down, he saw its body rock imperceptibly on three of those gigantic tentacles, and near invisible threads of light extended from its tentacles and tower-like arms. He let his eyes wander, noticing that the threads stretched out in every direction around Midgar but not to where they ended. Vincent blinked then craned his neck up to gaze at the shimmering wings splayed beneath the cloudy sky.

"Hold on," Vincent perked.

"What is it, Mr. Valentine?" Elena asked.

"This might be the final Weapon Lucrecia theorized from Hojo's old reports. Like an ark…"

"Ark?" Rufus cocked his head curiously to one side, questioning. "You mean like something to save people from a disaster? ... Does its appearance mean a disaster's coming?"

"Drana disappeared and that thing arrived…" Vincent thumbed his chin while deep in thought. "No, I know Drana's special but she can't be, that... this thing would..."

"I love it when people mumble to themselves, it's oddly exciting," Rufus said, leaning into Tseng's shoulder.

"Indeed." The long, dark haired Turk nodded in compliance, meanwhile thoughtfully scratching around the tilak in the middle of his forehead.

"Rufus, it's a Weapon," the gunman told him, cutting to the quick. "You experienced firsthand that they don't work for the people, but the Planet. So this 'ark' won't save the lives of humanity so much as it'll save the Planet's life."

"What does that mean!" Elena exclaimed, close to falling in Rude's lap. "You can't save the Planet without saving us too. Does that mean it'll take the Planet's life only? Won't that kill it instead?"

"No, Elena, look." Rufus pointed out the window, drawing lines across the glass. "Wings. The way it's built suggests it'll just fly somewhere else, with the Planet's life in tow. It's quite ingenious when you think about it. And bittersweet."

"But then, what'll happen to everybody left behind?"

"Stupid question is stupid," said Reno from the pilot's seat.

As the Weapon's halo-crowned head rose to meet the insistent helicopter, Vincent leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his face dark. With everything said so far, there remained but one solution: They had to kill that Weapon. He never did feel quite right destroying the Planet's protectors, but their idea of protecting meant wiping out the entire human race. It led him to wonder if the Planet cared more about itself than its children. But, understandably so, it'd merely been taking steps to ensure its own survival above all else, with this particular beast as the ultimate last resort.

It's a little premature, Vincent thought sourly. Drana... shouldn't have to be the end of the world. If she'd just been left in peace… But then, who's to say that with Sephiroth, it'd... Hmph; faced with nothing but a lose-lose situation.

"That is one butt-ugly mug," Reno voiced, thankfully intruding on Vincent's reflections.

"I really feel like we should be taking advantage of this…" The female Turk fidgeted in her seat next to Rude, inciting a look of annoyance on the silent man's face. After a whole minute of squirming, she jumped up and scrambled into the co-pilot's seat, wringing distressful noises out of Reno.

Vincent sighed in reasonable defeat. "... where did you go?"

"Shit! T-That thing moved! I'm getting us the fuck out of here!"

"What? Reno, keep it steady!"

"Holy fuck, something flew out!"

"You bastard, keep it steady!"

"You keep it steady!"

--

The Weapon bowed its haloed head and shook its arms, driving winds to cleave through the upper skeleton of Midgar. Beams and slabs of rock flipped like pancakes into the air, next to be carried off on the gravity wells born from the uprising wings. The silvery green threads of light snapped and exploded into waves of sparkles, battling for the clouds amongst the airborne debris.

The poor little helicopter flew for its life to Midgar's outskirts, spinning excitedly on the ripping gales.

All the while, calmly, the monstrous beast drew in its armored chest, slightly bent back its head and heaved a guttural quake out of its tapered belly. From the Weapon's mouth, in a great failing arc, sprung a blob of Lifestream that sunk like a stone through the air. The furious winds knifed shards and ribbons off the falling mass until it was no larger than the monster's lazy fist, ending with a slap into a tangle of toppled pillars.

A melodious roar pierced the skies and echoed for miles on end, lifting the Weapon from its perch atop the ruined Shinra tower. The surrounding gravity wells spun funnels of rubble up and away, seeming to slice the low-flung clouds to pieces, but tumbled back to earth in reaching their zeniths, only to be tossed up again. Between the storm-like clamors embracing the Weapon, one of its tentacles idly snaked up from the depths of Midgar, bloated and dripping with Lifestream, soon to be joined by the rest.

--

"Damn, is it doing what I think it's doing?" Rufus shouted as he sat secured by both Tseng and Rude on each side.

"See, I told you, boss!" Elena screamed. "We should've gotten the jump on it. Now we're doomed!"

"B-bullshit!" Reno grunted, straining to keep control over the helicopter. "I haven't gotten laid in about a month, I'm not about to die before I get some much needed tail!"

"We had... some good times together, boss," Rude uttered in broken un-emotion.

Vincent braced himself against the door, locked in a mesmerized gaze with a little something caught on the other side of the cracked window. Of all things, in the middle of a storm of rock and metal, in the face of the Planet's final Weapon…

A feather.

There were suddenly a lot of explanations he could make from its appearance. A good omen or a bad omen; birds that had merely gotten caught in the funnels and pulverized into nothing but sad puffs of feathers; a stray pinion from the Weapon's wings themselves; or a simple figment of his imagination. Of the last, the gunman didn't really see himself as one to imagine feathers flying out of nowhere, not without reason, but it'd surely be a soothing sight before his death.

"Reno, please, get us out of here," Elena begged, hugging the redhead's shoulder tight.

"Shit, I'm doing the best I can!"

"I don't want to die here…!"

"This isn't how I wanted to spend my last moments," Vincent whispered to himself. "If I could have seen you one more time…"

"Boss, the radar's going crazy from major pressurization in the area," Reno yelled through clenched teeth.

"And just what does that mean?" Tseng demanded.

"Hell if I know, but I'm still gettin' outta here!"

--

He heard a wordless song humming in his ear, the kind of song he guessed mothers would sing to their children. But he was not a child. So why did he hear it? Despite all the pain, he wanted, needed, no comfort. Nevertheless, it somehow soothed him. In the days when his death was a slow and depressing dissolution into the Planet's womb, for he had just too much pride, a song like this was what he'd listen to, commingled with his hate for those of the living. Back then, it wasn't so soothing; it mocked him for everything he had done in the name of rightful heir to the Planet.

For everything he'd done up until now, why be sung a kind, little melody?

He dreamt of crushing it bit by bit with his fingers, if only because it brought comfort he wouldn't be able to keep. But now... now, did he still have fingers for crushing? Jenova and the Lifestream had torn his body apart, feuding over who would have him in its favor. It felt like the very same drama that killed him the first time, with a slightly different cause, actors, and end.

A stab to the chest sent his dreaming body into throes. He could feel his heart suddenly tethered back to the physical world, wrenching knifelike blood into it. What could hurt like this? What could force him out of dreaming?

Of course... Life.

Sephiroth gagged and coughed, until he felt his throat stave off the sticky coldness clinging inside. The air he took in tasted old but oddly sweet as it charged his body with the sting of life, renewing the strength in his raspy throat.

"Drana!"

No response came to his cry but the echo of his own voice and the raging roar of winds ravaging the skies. Instantly moved to anger, his brow furrowed so that the light behind his eyelids crunched and crinkled. He was blind, and stunned by this, his bristling fingers tried to dig their way into his sockets.

"Where are you!" he bellowed. "You…"

Each scrape, scoop, and painful grunt brought Sephiroth's vision closer to clarity. Once he could see, he'd commence a new life full of hate. His calls had gone unanswered. No one came to his aid. And such responses pined for nothing but his hatred. It would be a sad life, but fulfilling all the same, sealing up the void that now plagued him in an instant.

"I hate you. No one abandons me. I abandon them, I do... I will hunt you-"

"Drana's right, you're a big brat. How can you condemn her for all the things she's done for you, giving you the care you never had? You're a... dope for all your hate. But then... what do I know? And then, would you even listen?"

"Yes... Even I can't condone the bad things you say about her. You're terrible, absolutely terrible. She meant nothing but good. She accepted your abuse and still gave you what you wanted. Don't do this."

"Ghosts... have no right to speak," gasped Sephiroth. "Least of all to me..."

Admittedly, he felt skinless. Those words the voices spoke in sincerity cut his naked muscle to the bone like a knife through warmed butter. Humiliated, his body shivered; he would gladly kill himself if guilt ever got the best of him, which it attempted to do right now. It had always been a scarce feeling he possessed; he rarely faltered, rarely had a second thought. Guilt was a disgusting thing that would only kill him first than rule him.

So how could this happen?

"Mother, Drana. You two... have really put me in a sad state." Sephiroth chuckled lightly, coughing once from the cold trying to smother his ribs. "For a time, I was perfect. Now I'm this... human? I'm this human thing? Heh. Then I want my hatred; I lovingly invite it to rule me, to sustain me just like the Planet's purest lifeblood coursing through my veins. I don't want to live without it. Where I wouldn't be whole…"

"You're so stubborn…"

"Drana!" His chest spiked into the air, painfully yanking his head and arms after it. He sluggishly slumped into a less than upright position, straining his eyes to catch a glimpse of his surroundings. "No, it's... still just you, the sweet ghost with the smart mouth."

"Smart mouth? That almost hurts."

"I refuse to have my Promised Land taken from me!" he snarled heatedly. "I want it back!"

"Well, at least you can sing a different tune now than world destruction if you really wanted to… Good. Keep wishing for Drana. Keep dreaming for something greater than you. But remember: While Drana may be a bigger part of the Planet than any human, she's still a person. Treat her like one."

"Is lecturing all you ghosts can do?" Sephiroth said with a black look. "You bore me. I have to find her."

"We want to get through to you."

He labored quietly to his feet without knowing how much a protest his body would really scream. At the instant his knees bent, fire slashed through them, knocking him back down. Gasping for breath, he accepted his pain and lay there, thinking. Was he saved, or wasn't he? His vision still blurred, but now, he could see just a little of the broken city all around him falling to pieces.

"We tried. I guess it's up to Drana now. So, goodbye, Sephiroth, but as usual, we'll be watching. C'mon, let's go."

"Sephiroth, please make it through…"

--

From Sixth: I lied, too.