Two days later, the rubbled streets of Midgar admitted two new visitors. The morning fog had lifted, resulting in an uncomfortably clear display of abandoned destruction. Cracked roads carelessly supported fractured buildings that no longer committed to reaching upward, but instead leaned upon one another. The damage had proved minimal at the city's outskirts, but intensified with each step toward the center.
Without speaking, the travelers had chosen a well-traveled, familiar street to take them to the former Shinra building. Neither knew why they had chosen the street until they simultaneously slowed to a stop to look at one destroyed building in particular.
"Of all the places we could have gone that night," she quietly mused, running her finger along a cracked window frame. Vincent nodded. "You put a gun in my face," she recalled.
"I thought you threatening," he replied. She faced him, arching an eyebrow in pride. He added, "I was right."
"Oh, what would you have done with yourself had you not met me?" she teased, continuing the walk, and leaving the bones of Grey Haus behind. She took his silence for agreement.
Only a few minutes later, they turned a corner and stopped. At the end of the wide street stood the former Shinra Headquarters, now a battered ghost of old glory. The lower towers leaned at precarious angles, metal beams protruding as battle scars. Still pointing toward the distant sea, the Sister Ray waited for an opponent that did not come. As Vincent took several steps toward the far side entrance, Aria knelt, filling her palm with bits of the rubble that surrounded the structure. A chill rushed down her spine as she inspected an unexpected souvenir in her hand.
"Even still, it makes you feel so small," she confessed, standing and turning her gaze upward. "A persistent reminder of where you stand."
Vincent stopped and turned back in time to see her hand close on a small black object as dust fell from between her fingers. "Do you still think so?" Vincent asked, considering the current state of the company as it scrambled for good press and a revitalized image.
"Hmm...I'll let you know after the Gala." As she looked back at him, he nodded toward the far edge of the compound. Following his gaze, she found a pair of guards standing outside a maintenance access. They stared the pair down as they approached, clearly eyeing the weapons each carried. Aria raised her hands in a gesture of harmlessness and noticed visible relief in their tense bodies.
"Something happening in there?"
"Can I help you?" the larger guard asked simultaneously. Vincent hung back and watched as Aria smiled, and with a tilt of her head, slipped into a version of her former self.
"We've been sent down to check out," she trailed, waving her hand at the ruins behind him, "this whole...situation."
"I didn't hear about this. Who sent you?"
"My boss. Who sent you?" she shot back. He rolled his eyes.
"Let me guess. Your boss is Mr. Shinra. Yeah, I've heard it before, lady."
"What, are you a Calypso bouncer?" The insult pulled Vincent's eyes from the silent guard to his suddenly-volatile partner. She reached for an inner pocket on her military jacket, causing the guards to half raise their rifles.
"Oh, give it a rest," she chided, pulling out a black leather billfold. Smoothly, she flashed a white badge that elicited a smirk from Vincent.
"Well, why didn't anyone call to let me know you were coming?" the guard asked, lowering his weapon. "No one's been in there since the crew disappeared. Two weeks now...we've heard some pretty awful stuff, but we were told not to go inside."
"That crew...what do you know about them?" she asked, eyeing the large metal doors behind him. His eyes narrowed slightly.
"I don't know...an investigation crew, probably not heavily armed, if armed at all. And the TV crew, a reporter and two tech guys, I guess. Around forty people all together. They thought the disappearances were related to the building, people sticking their noses where they shouldn't, gettin' lost in the ruins, but apparently, the entrances were still sealed to civilians. I mean, sure, they could climb in somehow, but..."
"But?" she pressed. He exhaled heavily.
"But it just seems more...I don't know, more dangerous than that. Like there's a bigger threat than an interesting building."
"Is that normal?" Vincent asked, nodding toward the door. The guards turned to look and found a low black fog slipping through the cracked door in thin wisps.
"Good Gaia...no, that's not a regular occurrence," the spokesguard admitted. "What the hell is that?" he asked, taking a few steps forward as Aria and Vincent took several back. They glanced at one another before watching the guard approach the black fog. As soon as the silent guard shook his head in anxiety, the wisps grew and wrapped around his partner's legs, pulling him, screaming, to the ground. Aria lunged forward, then jerked back as Vincent grabbed her shoulder. The fog spiraled upward, surrounding his waist, quickly sinking him into complete darkness. The agonized howls quieted, leaving heavy silence in their wake.
"What the hell?" his partner finally screamed, running backward, unable to look away. The fog extended again, as if reaching for another victim. The remaining guard abandoned his post before Aria could even notice. Instead, she stood transfixed by the growing cloud.
"Do you smell it? Metal, oil. A machine? What's doing this?" she wondered aloud. "Where did he go?"
"Do you plan to follow him?" Vincent asked, pulling again at her shoulder. The fog lurched forward violently, causing the pair to instinctively turn and run. As they approached the end of the block, Aria started to turn her head, asking, "Is it following us?" She tripped with the motion, quickly catching herself and facing forward in her run.
"Not interested," Vincent replied. She turned again, and let out a sharp string of curses.
"It is! It definitely is!"
Just as Vincent increased his speed he heard the thud and scrape of a body hitting the ground.
"Aria!" he shouted, reaching for her. The fog encircled her torso, wrapping a thin wisp around her neck before Vincent tore her away. As he did so, the blackness evaporated, disappearing instantaneously. They watched thin air as they caught their breath, waiting for another threat. The dead city remained quiet. Finally, he looked down at her, eyes widening slightly at the sight of a dark gray mark across her neck.
"It left a calling card," he remarked. She touched her neck and shrugged.
"Doesn't hurt. I'm fine." She stood, taking a long look back at the building that had produced the fog. "Forty people? Why hasn't anyone said anything?"
"Trying to maintain the sense of calm about Edge right now. If people knew about a threat like this, so soon after last year...They will wonder what Shinra is doing to protect them, if anything. Riots, demands for an army, the rebirth of SOLDIER, or worse, a mass development of mercenaries flooding their new city, an overwhelming lawlessness..." When he finally finished the thought, he was surprised to find Aria staring at him with raised eyebrows.
"Kind of spiraled out of control there, huh?" she quipped with a grin. He shrugged; she laughed. Her smile faded as she looked back into the city. "It seemed animate, didn't it? It followed after us; it knew when it had a hold..."
He nodded, wishing he could at least offer speculation.
"Think Reeve knows anything about this?" she asked, finally turning to leave the city. He followed, nodding.
"Perhaps. He has a way with intel."
"Well, you get in touch with him. I want to go in there," she announced, referring to the previously sealed, no longer guarded entrance. "But I want support. Someone sent that thing out here. Someone is making those noises everyone is talking about."
"And you plan to find support...?"
"Find? No. I will doubtlessly have to grovel. I will be reduced, accused of 'crawling back,' degraded, the whole messy bit. I plan to do it at the Gala." Determination seemed to overpower any anger at her impending position. He admired the absence of irritation in her voice.
"You expect support from Shinra? How interesting."
"That's one word for it."
.
Eight hours later, Vincent lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Aria approached from the bathroom, hair still damp from a long shower. Only as she climbed into the bed beside him did he finally turn to look at her.
It's still there, he wanted to say, but did not. He knew she was aware of the mark left on her neck.
"You and Nanaki said something about Project G. I haven't completely committed to my search, but when I do...what will I find?"
His response came easily enough. "Nothing with which you are not already familiar. Experimentation with Jenova cells. An attempt to make the perfect SOLDIER. Loss of life."
She noticed a darkness rush into his eyes and turned away, looking upward, and running her fingertips over the marking on her neck. She did not notice his head tilt slightly toward her, nor the warm eyes that watched her drift away.
A longing to pull her into his chest lost out to a dull ache wrapping around his upper left arm. Instead, he fixed on her tired violet eyes as they stared into fascinating nothingness on the ceiling and briefly wondered where she went in those quiet, distant moments. He wondered if she followed her mind backward, as he so often did, and who she saw when she went. His own visions lacked variety, but pulled him in with the same ferocity. He straightened his neck and looked upward.
As it tended to do, the ceiling crystallized, a glimmering series of clear stones encasing an ethereal form, warm auburn hair that would never ride another breeze, warm brown eyes that would not open, and yet transfixed him all the same. The figure floated gently downward, freeing itself from its encasement to lie beside him. In the heavy silence, he indulged in a hollowness that he assumed his own. Aria could not see the angelic, ghostly arm wrapped around Vincent's chest, nearly crushing him beneath it. But then, he did not see the silver hair wrapping around her throat as it nearly choked the life from her.
.
The morning of the gala arrived, and Vincent awoke alone. The aroma of coffee filled the apartment, the result of an unbreakable morning routine. Even when she did not drink it, Aria made coffee. When asked about the habit, she once attributed it to gratitude for normalcy. A routine as innocent as brewing coffee meant life was simple, and simplicity was a valued commodity.
As he stepped out into the living room, brushing wild hair from his face, he expected to find her balled up on the sofa with a newspaper or PDA. Instead, he was met with a hurriedly-scribbled note: Getting Reno's dress pressed. Feeling crazy-maybe a manicure. Nice day-get out for a while. & when did you start sleeping in? -A He asked himself the same question as he looked out the glass doors that led to the balcony. The sun was already higher than the city's skyline.
The coffee sent an uncomfortable twinge through his jaw that he still found amusing: Aria's coffee could power her motorcycle. Get out for a while. He considered visiting Seventh Heaven, and yet could not bring himself to endure the often-relentless questioning of Tifa, Marlene, and their newest charge, Denzel. Immediately, he felt guilty for the thought: they had offered him friendship and security in this new world, and he instinctively rejected their warmth for selfish pursuits of silence. Staring into the blackness of his coffee, he decided that he would pay them a visit soon...but not on this day. Another destination crept into the back of his mind, slowly meandering upward in his consciousness like a ribbon of smoke.
A quick glance at the clock confirmed that he would never make it to his destination and back in time to see Aria off to the gala. He regretted missing the chance to wish her well and see her in formal attire. She had claimed to "clean up well." He believed her. He also believed that she would understand his desire to leave the city on his own for a day. Within the hour, a crimson flash exited the city limits, powered by a deep engine of a heavy motorcycle.
Clouds had rolled into the Nibel area by the time he arrived, inspiring him to park the bike just inside the entrance, out of any impending rain. The cave welcomed him with the same cool breath that lingered in his memory. His chest tightened slightly with each step he took inward until he stood inches from the crystals, eye fixed on the woman within. Absentmindedly, he reached out to touch the casing, retracting his arm at the sound of a metallic scrape as if he had been burned. Red eyes stared scornfully down at the offending appendage, an unexpected knot rising in his throat. He swallowed it down and stared back into the crystals.
"Why are you haunting me?" he asked in a low whisper, lowering himself to the cool ground.