It had taken Lyla longer to return to the hotel bar than she would have liked, but there was no getting around the fact that supporting the weight of another person was going to slow her down. Dr. Caraway limped along beside her, pale and weary-looking by the time they reached the bar, though the bleeding beneath his hairline had stopped, leaving a large patch of dried blood as a reminder of the injury.

"You got 'im," Cid announced, sliding off his stool as the pair of them arrived. "Good, get 'im somewhere safe, the rest of us are goin' after Vin. Clarise got us a bazooka."

The strawberry-blonde smiled brightly. "I'm helpful." She offered.

Cait Sith peered out over the top of Reno's head with a frown. "Where'd they take 'im to, Lassie? We oughtta ge'started righ'now with this rescuin'!"

Lyla frowned over the top of her father's head. "He won't go back to Edge. Too predictable. I'm sure they're already on their way somewhere, though. ... he wouldn't wait for the rest of us to catch up with him. Maybe he-"

Dr. Caraway waved a bit to gain her attention, easing her arm from around his shoulders and using the bar as a crutch, wincing. Moving was more difficult without his cane than he would have liked to admit. "There's an old Shinra military facility near Corel. Built into the same structure as the reactor, they were trying to extend their reach to the Western continent back in the day. It's the closest, and one of the few left standing, you've already been to most of the major facilities. Start there. ... he won't go far. He wants you all to find him."

"Why would he want that?" Clarise frowned, folding her arms to drop into a lean against the table she was perched on the other side of. "I mean. Bazooka."

The doctor eyed Lyla meaningfully, causing her to shift uncomfortably. "You're not going," he told her pointedly, managing to sound authoritative even while injured. Cid made a soft "tch" noise from where he stood.

"Yeah, y'stay here, we can manage without you," the pilot told her. Whether or not he believed it was another matter entirely. If she could get a handle on herself, he knew she'd be good to have around in a fight, but as it was, the girl was like a time bomb.

"We got this," Reno added, pushing himself away from the bar and sliding his nightstick from its place at his belt, fingers closing around the hilt of it eagerly. "We'll bring Drac back and seriously lay the hurt on our mad scientist."

"I'm going," Lyla corrected them. "I have to go."

"Amurnae sure ye oughta, lassie." Cait Sith frowned doubtfully, even as he searched for his dice. "Figure tha's what melty mouth wants ye tae do, an' someone's gotta hold the home guard up, aye?"

"Yes, I'm sure that's exactly what he wants me to do," Lyla agreed, folding her arms stubbornly, cocking her hips to one side as she gave the cat a dubious look. "But without Vincent, what we've got is a bunch of humans. Not that you aren't all more than capable, but we've seen what Ingram can do, even if it was just a little. It was enough. He'll shred you."

"And you think you've got a better chance?" Reno countered, moving forward. "Princess, you don't even know the first thing about how to use what you've got."

"I've got a better idea than I had a few days ago," Lyla shot back, "It might be enough. It's better than nothing at all. If I can replicate what happened this afternoon, we could get past him to get Vincent out. I think it's safe to assume that this is going to take all of us. He won't be waiting for us by himself. He'll have help."

"What happened this afternoon?" Rufus asked with mild interest.

The brunette glanced in his direction, frowning slightly. "A run-in with Sephiroth. We were about to come down to fill you in when Ingram called about the hostage situation. ... didn't want to ruin everyone's evening."

"Oh good. Because ignorance is definitely bliss when it comes to imminent doom." Clarise paused and thought about that for a moment. "Well." She said slowly. "Actually..."

"Now see here, missy." Cait Sith said with a waggled finger, popping up to his feet rather suddenly. "Some ae this number helped tae save th'world, ye realize! Ohh, sure. We may be mere humans tae ye, but Sephiroth thought th'same thing! It has no effect on the tricks up our sleeves."

"I didn't say anything about being 'mere' humans," Lyla pointed out, resisting the urge to do so physically as well. "But humans. As in he'll melt the flesh off your bones. This is my fault, I don't want that to happen to anyone here because I spent the last two years helping him."

"So you go with us and he puts your head through a desk again, or better yet, a wall," Reno groused sourly. "Leaving us free to get melted anyway. Fucking stay here, no one's gonna hold it against you."

Rude stood up, brushing imaginary dust from his cufflinks as he checked his watch, and then his knuckles. "Jenova." He said.

Cait Sith swiveled on Reno's shoulder to blink at him. "Jenova?" The cat repeated.

"What about it?" Clarise squinted.

Cid snerked. "Yeah, gonna expand on that any?"

Rude arched a brow, looking around at the crowd he'd suddenly become the center of. "He's got Jenova in him. Doesn't he?"

"Yes," Dr. Caraway answered, righting himself as best as he was able, though the noticeable wince that followed was enough to make Lyla catch him by the shoulder, bracing a hand against his shoulder to steady him. "... among other things. I haven't seen much as far as what he can do, physically, but it's very clear that he's far from human now. ... I have to admit, does a decent job of passing. Had me fooled for a few minutes... didn't take him long to reveal himself, though. Once he got raving."

"So? We've smacked plenty of Jenova-freaks around before," Reno reminded the group. "We could do it again."

Rude shook his head with a sigh. Of course, when he actually opened his mouth, he was misunderstood. Instead he merely arched a brow over his reflective glasses. "So does Lyla." He said, accompanying the sentence with an indicative gesture. And. We all remember what happened the last time she bumped heads with something that had Jenova in it. Don't we?

Reno watched his partner for a moment, arching a brow a moment later as realization dawned. "Oh, yeah," he said firmly. "You're stayin' here, PETA."

"But I promised-"

"Ah ah," he cut her off. "We'll lock you up and take the key along with if you're gonna keep insisting. Let us play for once. Rude an' I will get the job done, like always. ... Cid can help," he added as an afterthought.

The pilot snorted. "Thanks, punk."

Cait Sith leaned around to Reno's other shoulder. If he was offended for being forgotten in the lineup, he didn't say so. "Home front." he nodded.

Clarise set a hand on her hip, lofting a brow. "So. We gonna get this little show on the road, or what?"

Reno reached up to put a hand against the cat's back, steadying him. "Don't worry, you're comin' with," he assured the robot. "Yeah. Let's get goin'. Prez, what are you-"

"I'll stay here in case he doubles back," Rufus interjected coolly. "I would still slow you down in the field, but I'll gladly put a hole in his chest if he shows up again. Besides. Someone has to make sure Ms. Caraway doesn't go running after you."

"Do you want to keep the bazooka?" The ginger asked, cocking her head curiously.

He smiled thinly in her direction. "Appreciated, but my own firearm should do just fine. You'll likely need the bazooka more than I will tonight. Thank you for the offer, Miss Kaht."

"Let's get goin' already, then," Cid announced in an attempt to rally the group, ignoring the dark glower on Lyla's face as he passed. "Got no time to waste. If Vin misses another of our drinkin' nights, I'm gonna be broken hearted. An' Dukes of Hazzard Thursday is comin' up."

Clarise flashed a grin as she hoisted the large firearm onto her shoulder, though who it was for was anyone's guess. The president, perhaps. Or the pilot. Or herself.

Really, it was all about the same from outside observation.

Rude nodded, shoving his chair errantly into place as he headed for the door.

"Onward!" Cait Sith added by way of battle cry.

Ingram had wasted no time once the helicopter had landed. When Vincent regained consciousness, he was laid out flat atop an examining table, bound to it by his wrists and ankles, with one thick strap across his middle. He had been allowed to keep his trousers, but his shirt and gloves had been removed, tossed into a haphazard pile against the far wall along with his cowl. The doctor smiled pleasantly as he leaned over the subject, scalpel held loosely in the hand furthest from the table. "Glad to see you came to. I was curious, why did you offer to come? Haven't you suffered enough already?"

The dark man frowned blearily from the flat of his back, his face as impassive as it had always appeared behind the red cloth that covered it. He took a moment to focus on the blade first, then shifted easily onto Ingram's handsome features. "Maybe." He said. "Or maybe it will never be enough."

"Did you come because of some misplaced sense of nobility, then?" the doctor suggested, looking away long enough to set the scalpel on a tray that held a number of silver tools, using his free hand to begin pulling on a pair of surgical gloves. "Atoning for the past because you still don't feel you've suffered enough? I know a great deal about your sins," he went on, snapping one glove at the wrist before starting on the other. "Or did you come just so that she wouldn't have to?"

"Does it bother you..?" He asked, letting his head, only slightly lifted, lay back against the flat of the surgical table. "To think it might all be the same?"

The blonde man set his jaw, teeth grit as he glanced down at his prisoner. "Why should it?" he asked thinly.

Vincent smiled. "I don't know."

Ingram sneered, looking away as he snapped the second glove into place, lovingly running his fingers along the length of the scalpel before taking it from the tray again. "No anasthetic it is," he all but hissed. "... your 'noble deed' will not keep her safe. I hope you realize that. Had she come herself, I would have left you alone. You have thrown your life away for nothing."

"Maybe." the gunman said serenely, watching him with curious, calm eyes.

In the back of his chest, on the rungs of his ribs, his demons howled. Nothing nothing nothing always so willing to die for nothing. Those are are worthless don't have much reason to hold out, do they? DO THEY?

But Vincent only smiled a little wider. "Or. Maybe ten minutes was all she needed, Ingram."

His grip on the scalpel tightened, knuckles going white, showing beneath the blue latex. The tool snapped in his grasp; he loosened his hold on it and allowed the pieces to fall to the floor with a faint clatter. "No. You don't love her insides, like I do."

He raised one eyebrow with interest, blinking slowly as the information compiled itself into a thought. Aloud he said, "That's probably a good thing."

Ingram snapped up a replacement for his broken scalpel, turning on his heel to face the man on the table. "She's confused. Upset. When she's calm, she'll come back. She'll come back," he repeated, almost spitting the words, "and I'll study her insides, and we'll be together. She will forget she had you to hide behind for a day."

Vincent closed his eyes, body still and strung beneath the restraints. "How long have you been gone, Ingram." He murmured thoughtfully, voice low and thick with the heavy rasp. "I wonder."

"I haven't gone anywhere," the blonde insisted, knifehand hovering several inches above the other man's scarred chest. "I see things much more clearly now."

"Is that what she tells you? Or someone else."

Ingram narrowed his eyes sharply. "Of course you couldn't understand."

Whatever Vincent's reply had been, it was cut at its root by the sudden, thick creak of the building around them. Dust, from high above their heads, slipping somehow through the new and yawning gaps in the ceilings, tumbled down between them. Small chips of the foundation that should never have seen the light of day.

The doctor stiffened, throwing an arm up to shield himself from the debris that fell around them even as he looked upwards. "Company."

Vincent closed one eye against the onslaught on pebbles. "Did you put tea on?"

There was another thunk, this one sharper and metallic. And then the wall directly to their right ripped free with the shriek of tearing steel.

Ingram only smiled to himself. "Welcome home, Prometheus."

Well. The gunman had to admit that was not exactly the party he had been expecting.

Sephiroth raised his head, wasting no time as he crossed the room in a few long strides. "You." He said, eyes on the scientist as the distance closed between them. "You are in my memories."

"Am I? How unexpected," the scientist remarked, canting his head slightly. "I don't believe we've ever met face to face. You've arrived just in time, however. Your other should be here shortly."

The large man sheathed the sword between them, coming to a halt when he loomed over Ingram. "My other." He said quietly, though somehow it carried. Vincent felt the chill in the room thicken. "So many others. You worked on Gast's projects. Tell me. That means he's dead, doesn't it. Or is that another lie."

"Gast Faremis is dead," Ingram confirmed, unmoving, seemingly unbothered by the silver-haired man's presence. He stood still as ever, calmer than he had been when talking to Vincent, somehow. "Shot by Professor Hojo."

The answer seemed to enrage the Soldier, however inexplicably. He flexed his fingers convulsively, turning in a small, irate circle as he paced out the thought. "And that hack, Hojo?" His lip curled with the asking.

"Deceased," Ingram informed him, spreading the fingers of his free hand wide. "By the hand of our guest here."

Sephiroth wheeled on one foot, slamming his weight onto the table against the palm of his left hand. Leaning close over Vincent as if he might examine him. "From yesterday." He remarked, as if the thought took a moment in coming. And when it did, long, pale fingers slid gently over the gunman's throat. Mimicking a strangle's hold. "You lived."

Vincent closed his eyes. Well, the situation had officially gotten better. Awesome.

"Not for very much longer," the scientist informed him, taking a step back to allow their guest a bit more space to 'converse' with the man on the table. Behind him, Lyla's mirror had approached the doorway, lightly leaning against its frame to watch.

Vincent wondered if he was expected to make a comment on that. But in the next moment, his imminent murderer removed any need. Sephiroth straitened to look over his shoulder, eyes falling on Eve, and then on Ingram in turn. "Prometheus." He murmured. "Pandora. Monstrous creations. You... want to make mother a thousand incubators... don't you."

"They've already been made without my aid or interference," the blond reminded him, still unmoved by Sephiroth's presence. Fearless. "All I want is to bring you back together. Make you whole once more. Doesn't it ache to be apart? Together you may find peace. Together we may see what you were truly made for."

"What I was made for?" His eyes widened slightly, taking deliberate steps towards the scientist, his hold on Vincent's neck forgotten. "Do you know. What I was made for?"

"It depends on who you ask. Gast, and by association, Caraway... meant to reestablish the Cetran race. An attempt to heal the planet. Hojo," Ingram went on, and there may have been just a hint of laughter behind his words, "Hojo liked to play god. Pandora was closer to the original mission statement. As you were meant to be. What we got instead were supersoldiers."

"No." He purred, reaching for Ingram's collar and snapping their bodies close together, lowering his head enough to bring their eyes together. "I was made to bring you all to justice."

Even now, Ingram smiled, carefully lifting one hand to press it against Sephiroth's chest, a silent request for distance. "Perhaps."

"Special..." he murmured, and the word turned into the thick vibrations of a laugh. "Special special special. Better than anyone before. Better than anyone since. Favored. Favorite. God and ...Hell. They're, just. Words. I feel like I've been a long time... rotting. Ingram. Charles?" His voice turned high and sweetly strange as he tested the name, before it dropped again. Cold and flat as the clouds outside. "And I'm so tired of all my parents, trying to decide my future."

"Like all parents," Ingram began evenly, "They only want what they think is best for you."

"For me." Sephiroth's smile was wide and handsome. Beatific in the bright, sterile light. "Are you naive, Doctor?" It dropped away with the spikes of sudden ice in his tone, and with a shove, he sent the blond sprawling away from him. "Or do you think I am?"

He hit the floor and slid, jutting one leg out to slow and stop himself. Footsteps sounded behind him, Eve approaching from behind, but he lifted one hand, motioning for her to halt. He paused like that for a moment, before curling the fingers of his hand and clutching at his own head, palm flat against his brow as he cringed, a sharp cry of pain escaping him. "Son. My son. You have always... refused me..."

Vincent jerked suddenly against his bonds.

Oh for fuck's sake. Really?

Sephiroth, for his own, watched the spectacle with no trace of his turbulent emotions. Instead he ducked his head to the side, eyeing the figure from this new angle. "Son. Father. So many people have found interesting names to call me in these... strange times."

Ingram lifted his head; the eyes beneath his messy straw-colored hair were somehow not his own. Darker. More sinister, somehow. He smiled, lips slowly curling upwards as he began to regain his composure. "No. Not merely the man who pieced you together," he corrected. "Though you never knew. Always despised me. Ingrate. I helped you until the very end, whether you were aware of it or not. Never appreciated the life I gave you. All that I did for you."

The pale man narrowed his impossibly bright eyes, sinking down, his posture suddenly tight and hostile. "Pieced me..." He hissed. "Destroyed me? Built me? Who are you to me? Your experiments were your own pastime, weren't they?" And then he paused, an expression filtering across his face like confusion or horror or unbridled rage. "You murdered Gast. You murdered him. It's you, isn't it. In there, Hojo." He sneered. "You'd call yourself my father?"

"Biologically, even," Ingram confirmed, slowly propping himself up, allowing his hand to drop away from his face. "So your mother and the doctors all told me. Faremis brought his death on himself. Refused... to step aside. The project was at risk... he was keeping Ilfalna from us. We needed her... for Pandora." His odd smile hitched wider. "I didn't want my boy to be alone forever."

"I ... won't... believe that." Sephiroth said carefully, his tone chill and even. "I ... wont believe that I... could come from such dismal genes."

His smile quickly turned to a sneer. "A quick glance at the record of your birth will prove me right, and you wrong, son." His gaze shifted from Sephiroth to the man still strapped to the table, and he smirked again, struggling to his knees before working his way to his feet. "Valentine knows. Isn't that right, Vincent?"

And then it was Vincent's turn to sneer. The calm that had overrode his face and body melted with the single, violent jerk he gave against the restraints. "A joke, Hojo?" He growled, teeth flashing white against pale lips. "Unlike you."

Sephiroth snarled, turning his face away as though the sight of the blond suddenly made him ill.

"How strange it must feel for you, living it over again," Ingram remarked. His countenance had remained largely the same, but the rest had changed. Mannerisms, speech pattern, and the eyes. None of them belonged to him. "I suppose there's no denying that history repeats itself."

"This wont be the same, Hojo."

"Really?" He took a moment to survey the rest of the room, eyes wandering back to Vincent once he had done so. He smiled. "It looks so very familiar."

The gunman grit his teeth, trying to channel the sudden surge of anger back under control. "All you have is a hammer." He snarled, jerking hard against the restraints. "No wonder the world looks like a nail."

"It's easy for you to talk big when you're tied down, isn't it," the doctor observed, tilting his head to the side, steepling gloved fingers. "Very bold. I suppose you can say anything you like, you won't have much of a chance to prove yourself. I can allow a few venomous words. Let you go down fighting."

"Someone is here," Eve's hollow voice sounded from across the room. She had turned her back to them, staring hard down the dimly lit corridor. "His friends have come. Dr. Ingram?"

"Hojo," the blond snapped, correcting her. She frowned.

"I await Dr. Ingram's orders."

Sephiroth looked the scene over with raised lip, turning on his heel. "What I want is not here." He growled, but paused on his way back through the great hole he had torn in his haste. Carefully, he reached out, laying one hand gently on the thick, cement pole. "But... don't think I'll forget. Hojo. Our business isn't finished yet."

Vincent's eyes widened. "No-!"

And then he pushed.

"Let him have his tantrum," Ingram spat, marching to where Eve had taken up her post as sentinel, grabbing her by the arm as debris began to come down around them. "Go and handle our company, leave Valentine and I alone."

She watched him blankly, even as the walls around them began to splinter and start to crumble. "Not by your orders."

"Look at me," he demanded, pointing to his own face. "I am your master, serve me!"

"You look like him. But you are not. I will not."

The building was already coming apart. Vincent cringed as metal squealed and shrieked, twisting apart. He lay back hard against the table, trying to concentrate.

Come to me.

In the murk, beneath the inky black, something shifted.

Come to me.

He felt it roll in it's sleep. Reaching out but not waking. The gunman grit his teeth, the headache making it hard to think clearly. He was not human. Humanity would not help him now. Wake -up-. Return.

"Shit!" a familiar voice called from somewhere down the corridor, faint amidst the crumbling of the very walls that surrounded them. "Fuckin' place is comin' down around us! C'mon kids, hustle!"

"We're coming, old man, keep it down," Reno's voice followed, growing closer. "Damn it, really wasn't looking forward to running into another deathtrap."

"They are here," Eve informed the thing in her master's body with a sneer, stalking across the room. "Deal with them... yourself."

It occurred to Vincent as he struggled with the bonds that held him, physical and not, that he had to give Hojo some credit. None of his creations seemed to like him much. At least they were intelligent, on average.

"Floor plan readouts say th'power's goin' down thisaway!" Called Cait Sith's voice. "Don' worry, Vin! We're acommin!"

Ingram's body had turned to glower at the door the voices had come through, even as it began to cave in on itself. Turning back to rebuke the woman who had been standing sentinel, his expression contorted when he saw that she was gone, clenching his hands into white-knuckled fists. "Damn it."

"Hang on, buddy!" Cid's voice came from somewhere closer now, and as if on cue, he slid through what space there was left in the door, narrowly avoiding being hit by a large chunk of debris that fell after he passed. "Shit, looks like we're just in time."

"Was your first mark the collapsing building, or the crazy man with a scalpel?" Clarise asked with what seemed to be a note of panicked sincerity. Whatever else she was, willing to be crushed wasn't on the list, apparently.

"Tha's enougha th'ya blighter!" Cait Sith announced, whipping out a yellow microphone as Rude moved past him, fists faintly aglow with the red of powerful materia.

"Hey, you know what's a better idea than talkin'?" Reno all but sneered at the group, darting forward as he whipped his nightstick out of its holster, sending a crackle of electricity down the length of it as he neared the blonde man in the labcoat. He lurched forward, reaching out to strike and taking the scientist by surprise, knocking him hard against his head and sending him reeling. The blond hissed in response, stumbling as his limbs began to shift beneath his coat, causing him to look down at himself with interest.

"Like you're fuckin' one to talk," Cid shot back at the Turk, running to close the distance between himself and the operating table, where he immediately began tugging at the straps that bound Vincent's hands. "You alright?"

"Seem to have misplaced my dignity." He muttered, nodding towards the fight that had suddenly broken out. "Shackle keys."

Rude wasted no time following up after his partner, taking two wide, heavy swings at the scientist, the fire magic charging up as he lunged in for a third strike.

For his own part, Cait Sith grunted as he leapt from Reno's shoulder, dodging between Ingram's legs.

If the assault bothered Hojo further than being knocked about, it didn't show. His expression was one of awe rather than pain as he watched the body's limbs lengthen and shift, hands growing larger, clawed, even as his chest began to expand beneath his clothes and some dark substance began to seep through the cloth. "This is... marvelous."

"Shit," Cid said again, breaking away from the table. "I'll get 'em, sit tight. ... like you got a choice," he added as he ran off in the opposite direction.

"That's...not the right response for that." Clarise squinted one eye in a pantomime of disgust. "Uh- guys. Guys? Does anyone else think he might have lost something? Like, out of his mind?"

"It's a distinct- UNH - possibility!" Reno shouted in her general direction, narrowly dodging a swipe of Ingram's claws as the man inside seemed to become aware of his own strength. "Damn!"

"Cid!" Vincent growled, pulled hard enough to whiplash himself back against the metal slab. "Nh- Hojo."

Cid whirled around and began to move back towards the table, raising his spear as he neared his friend. "Hojo-what? And I got a better idea than keys. 'pologies in advance if I nick ya," he said all at once, before bringing his weapon down and striking the tip against the nearest shackle with acute precision, smirking as it broke from the blow. "Alright!"

The gunman shifted, wrapping human fingers around his far wrist and jerking. "That's not Ingram." he rasped, glancing over his shoulder. "Not entirely, anyway."

"YE DON' SAY?" Cait Sith asked at full volume as he scrambled up the blond's coat, megaphone to kitty lips.

"Other than losin' his fuckin' mind, y'mean," Cid surmised even as he brought the Venus Gospel down on another of the shackles, this time freeing Vincent's leg before moving to the other one. "Great. Fuckin' great."

Ingram's body jerked as a high, shrill keening sounded beside his ear, thrashing violently afterwards in an attempt to throw the cat to the ground. Reno dove in to strike again, this time aiming for the face as he directed a punch towards the scientist's middle simultaneously, making contact only to be flung back against the far wall with inhuman force in retaliation.

The creature smiled, causing the stitching between his lips to stretch and ooze. "Oh. I like this."

"Hey guys." Clarise poked her head around the doorframe, a bastion of semi-safety in the quickly collapsing structure. "Can I play?"

Cait Sith leapt from Ingram's shoulder to Rude's as he lunged in again, then down to the floor before his ride could be flung into the air. The burst of energy and heat from the man's rings nearly singed his fur and he ducked, waving a hand. "Oh, aye. Ammurnae stop ye."

Reno looked up from where he had slid down against the wall, groaning. "Yeah. Y-yeah, do the thing, Clarise," rubbing his head as he sat up to watch Rude knock Ingram's body back several feet, causing him to stumble as his coat caught fire. The creature didn't seem to notice.

The larger of the Turks turned on his heel and dove for relative cover, snapping robot up en route.

At the door, Clarise shifted, hefting the large barrel onto her shoulder. "Hey! This way, handsome!" She waved, aiming the bazooka to fire.

Still somewhat disoriented, the creature looked up as she shouted, curious as he stumbled forward slightly, claws outstretched, dripping dark fluid that began to bubble when it hit the floor.

"Ohew." The ginger shook her head, sliding one high-heeled foot behind her to steady the weight as she shot.

There was no time to dive out of the way; in fact, the creature made no attempt to. Merely stood there and allowed the shot to connect. Standing there one moment. A crumpled pile of burning flesh and other things the next, parts scattered to wherever the force of the blow would take them.

Reno grimaced. "Fucking gross."

"..Ye... don'think he'll get up again, do ye?" Cait Sith asked, scrambling up Reno's arm.

"Smellsworsethanitlooks." Clarise lamented, dropping the shell.

Vincent looked at the ceiling. "Through the hole." He made a gesture, making a grab for his cloak as he stood up. The air bit nastily at his damaged hand when he moved, even concealed against his body. "We won't have time to get up and out."

"Alright, everyone move before the rest of it comes crashin' down on us," Cid barked at those assembled, taking off towards the hole in the opposite wall, careful to sidestep the bubbling mess Ingram's body had left behind.

"Who knows," Reno was telling the cat without much sympathy, steadying the robot on his shoulders as he struggled back to his feet, already growing sore as he, too, made his way towards the newly made exit. "If he does... let's hope this slows him down enough. Doesn't look like much could come back from that, though."

The gunman was the last to the hole, helping Clarise through before pausing, himself. He frowned back at the remains smoldering in the wreckage, tightening the glove around his wrist before taking the leap outside to safety.

Maybe, he thought. Or maybe, it will never be enough.

"Alright, let's get the fuck out of here," Cid groused as he lead the group back towards the ship. "Get everyone patched up. What the hell happened in there, Vin?"

"I want a bazooka," Reno muttered as he followed, almost petulant.

"I'll give you the next one," the ginger assured him, giving the Turk's shoulder a pat as she wobbled past him on the uneven ground.

Vincent finished the clasps of his cloak before looking over at his friend. "Sephiroth."

Cid's face contorted into something beyond a frown, pale eyebrows lowered and knit together, causing his forehead to crease severely. "Day keeps gettin' better n' better. Which, speakin' of, heard there was a run-in with him in Costa del Sol, too. I'm assumin' Sephiroth's the one who brought the buildin' down."

"Ingram told him something he didn't want to hear."

"Threw a tantrum?"

The gunman nodded, adjusting his glove again. Something about it suddenly wasn't sitting right. "He came looking for Ingram. ...He wants Cloud."

Cid frowned, tapping the side of his head. "Confused, maybe."

"I think so." Vincent shook his head. "He wanted confirmation of Gast's death."

"... we gotta tell Cloud. Or Tifa, somethin'. They gotta know to be careful."

The dark man looked up at the weeping clouds with a minute frown, creasing his lips as water spilled over them, sticking at the angles. "When it rains, it pours."

"Clever," Cid snorted.

Vincent shook his head, lowering his gaze again as they fell into step behind the group. "Sephiroth. Ingram. Pandora. Rei. The alien. ...Just when the world was running out of excitement."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know. I was thinkin' the same thing, really," the pilot admitted, rubbing at the back of his neck. "... wanna go back to Costa del Sol and drink a bar while we regroup?"

"God yes."

"I'll buy again. Don't tell my wife. Y'could use the free liquor, I think."

"It's been a week," he admitted after a moment.

"Yeah. Kinda like your worst ever, ain't it? Aside from the obvious one like thirty years ago."

Vincent snorted softly as they turned up the ramp into the airship. "Death is brief."

"But bio-engineered mass-murderers seem to be forever?"

"Gift that keeps on giving."

"Maybe we could drink two bars."

The gunman smirked. "Think they could fit it in a shot glass?"

"If we tip 'em real good, they might feel inspired to try."

"Worth a shot." He shook his head. "This isn't what I signed up for."

"Hey, me neither. I thought I was jus' comin' by to give you a ride. Not hang with the Shinra crew and watch you nearly get sliced t'bits- y'know, gonna stop complainin' right there."

The cloaked man made a noise that might have been a chuckle on a normal human being. "Thanks. For sticking around."

Cid looked over to grin broadly as they neared the airship. "Woulda been a shitty friend if I'd run."

The dark man leaned on the railing, looking out over the ruins of the lab as it caved in on itself at last. "Shame, though."

"Bout the not runnin'? I was just thinkin' -that,- too."

"That." He agreed, flexing the clawed hand. "And that I didn't get to punch him in the face."

Cid had to make an effort to repress a laugh. "That woulda been a story to tell the grandkids. Memory woulda stayed alive forever. Sucks though. Maybe we can turn a picture o' him into a fuckin' dart board."

He caught Cid's eye with a slight duck of his head. "Maybe Lyla has one in her wallet."

Cid looked mildly surprised, but laughed a moment later, heading towards the bridge. "Shit. Y'could sneak it outta there when she's not lookin'."

"Bronze claws are very useful for subtlety." He agreed tonelessly.

"She'll be too busy lookin' at yer lack of an ass to notice."

Vincent arched a dark, thin brow. "I have an ass." He protested.

"Sure ya do," Cid humored him, giving him a single clout on the shoulder before breaking away to prepare for takeoff.