AN: You guys are lucky, this chapter only got finished cause I ran out of episodes of My Little #$%^ Pony to watch. Speaking of ponies, part of this chapter was inspired by this classic movie scene, which you really owe it to yourself to see (if you haven't): www dot youtube dot com / watch?v=v2ssbgThljU
The first song they sing here is traditional; the second is, fittingly enough, a minor rework of Johnny Cash's Folsom Prison Blues.
After placing a call to the house, Tseng, Reno and Salvador spent the night on the floor or El Corazon. Salvador had enumerated the bar's security features: three sheets of mithril embedded in the bar itself ("enough to stop a Behemoth"), a hidden Barrier materia to reinforce the flimsy-looking batwing doors, and several shotguns secreted around the premises ("it's been a year and a half since the last good bar fight, sometimes I miss the old days"). At seven in the morning, just as the sun was coming up over the proud and desolate outskirts of Costa Del Sol, far from the tourist-infested harbor, Rude, Elena and Hunter arrived.
Reno met them at the door, in shirtsleeves and suspenders. He and Rude regarded each other, then shook hands.
"I heard the news," said Rude.
"Is that all?"
"Hmm?"
"What. No congratulations?"
"It's nothing to be proud of," said Rude, with the hint of a smile. "This is how things were meant to be."
Hunter walked eagerly up to Tseng.
"Mission accomplished, sir? That didn't take long. Though with your skills, I'm not surprised."
Tseng looked grim. "Not by a long shot. Our mission is accomplished when that materia is on Heidegger's shiny new desk, and that desk is a long way from here."
Salvador was pouring coffee into tin cups.
"That's right, my friends," he said, "I think we got a long day ahead of us. Why don't you make yourselves comfortable."
Elena, bleary-eyed, gratefully accepted the coffee.
"Rude," said Tseng, cutting out Hunter, who tried to mask his disappointment, "come with me."
The bar, as it turned out, doubled as the town jail; which made sense, Tseng reflected, as most jailable offenses probably took place near the liquor supply. There were several iron-barred holding cells in the back, and he and Rude stopped in front of the first. Tseng held the puzzle box under his arm. He tapped on the bars with his coffee cup.
"Look alive, sleepyhead, the school bus leaves in five minutes."
"Go to hell," said Yuffie, but the fight was gone from her voice.
She lay on the cot, feet bound together, and hands bound behind her back. Her eyes were dark-ringed, and she didn't appear to have slept at all. It was an oddly shocking sight, even for Rude.
"So, what," she said, without looking up. "You gonna torture me?"
"Torture a little girl? Don't be ridiculous."
"I bet you've done worse."
"Come on, Yuffie," said Tseng. "Cut the shit. Don't play soldier girl. We'll do what we have to. But you don't want it, and neither do we. Pagoda's sake, look at you. You just want to go home, don't you?"
Yuffie's eyes pinched, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of crying.
"Bring it on."
"Just open this case, and we'll let you go. You could be asleep on your own soft, cozy bedroll by tonight."
"Shyeah, in Wu-Tai, while you Shinra summon the four Guardians to finish the job and come burn it to the ground. If I believed you in the first place."
"You know that's nonsense. If Shinra wanted Wu-Tai completely destroyed, they could have done it a long time ago. That stone? It means nothing to me. It shouldn't mean anything to you. The only person it means anything to is my fat boss, and once he's happy, the rest of us can get on with our lives."
"Listen to him," said Rude, gently.
"You shut up, Mister I Saw My Best Friends Die, Boo Hoo. Like you would have given up shit if you got caught in the war."
"That was the war. This isn't."
A long, silent minute passed. Then Tseng looked at Rude, shrugged helplessly, and unlocked the door.
Yuffie shot upright, scooting back against the wall.
"S-stay back! Don't you dare touch me!"
"I'm afraid you leave us no choice."
"Help!" screamed Yuffie, and at that moment there was a blast of acrid smoke in the hallway behind the Turks, and they whirled around, guns drawn. A man appeared in the smoke, even as Tseng called out: "Everyone back here now!" In a moment, Hunter and Reno appeared in the doorway; Hunter with his gun, Reno brandishing the nightstick.
The smoke cleared.
"Oh, who the fuck is this guy?" Hunter gasped.
"Nice dress," said Reno.
"Godo," said Tseng.
"Tseng."
"Daddy!"
"Silence, girl."
"You want me to cap him, sir?"
Tseng held up his hand. "Everyone shut up!"
There was silence. Godo stood, the last traces of smoke curling off his robes, arms crossed in front of him. Hunter's aim wavered. Rude's held steady. Tseng holstered his gun.
"What do you want?"
"To speak with my daughter."
"Be my guest," said Tseng, and stepped back.
As Godo approached the bars, Yuffie flung herself at them, pressed against them, and was unable to control herself any longer. Tears streamed down her face, and her fragile body was racked with sobs.
"I-I'm sorry! I never should've…help, daddy, please! They're gonna pull off my fingernails a-and, shove hot nails under my eyelids and…"
"Don't flatter yourself," said Rude, a bit touchily. "I was going to bend your arm. You wouldn't have lasted ten seconds."
"Yuffie," said Godo, in a deep, patient voice. "Listen."
She closed her lip, although it trembled, and waited.
"There is something…you must know," he went on. Now Tseng, too, watched him with interest. "You never showed me a hired servant's respect from the day you were born. But, little did you know how I deserved it."
"Wh-what are you talking about?"
"Little girl…peach blossom. Do you know whom it was, who gave away the location of the Second Fleet in Junon harbor?"
"Um, like, duh?" She cut her eyes at Tseng. "How was it not this guy?"
Godo shook his head. There was a pained look in his aged, deep-set eyes. "It was I, Yuffie."
"Dad! Don't mess with me, that is…that is so not cool."
"When I failed to kill General Weaver," he said, "I was captured by Shinra. They took me before that woman…Scarlet. She told me that if the war dragged on any longer, when Wu-Tai was taken, the first-born of every noble would be put to death. To this day, I don't know if she spoke the truth. Certainly…if General Weaver himself, an honorable man, had told me so, I would not have believed him. But when I looked into that woman's eyes…I believed her. Then she showed me a photograph of a girl. That girl was you."
Yuffie's tears had stopped, and she could only stare at him.
"I don't know how they found out about you," he went on, each word escaping his mouth with increasing difficulty, "when I had kept you a secret, even from my closest friends. But I was a coward. I chose your safety, and that of my friends' children, over the lives of hundreds of sailors…and the future of Wu-Tai. Now, because of this…foolishness, I have almost lost you a second time. If you want to hate this Oath-breaker, by all means, do so. It's true he was the first to fall, and I hate him no less than I hate myself. But if you love Wu-Tai, don't love me, or any of the foolish men of my generation, or the Emperor. Love yourself…you are Wu-Tai."
He turned to Tseng, who looked pale and withdrawn, and said nothing.
"Black Tortoise. Answer me truthfully. What will be done with the Heaven Stone once it falls into Shinra's hands?"
"It…will be reconstituted in a reactor. But after that, nothing. I've learned something of Shinra's ways. I can surround it with so much red tape, it will never see the light of day again. I promise you that, Godo."
"Then…" Godo's head fell, and his eyes dimmed. "Then that will have to be sufficient. Yuffie? Open the box."
The power of speech might have deserted the girl forever. Obediently, she accepted the box from Tseng, turned her back to them, and a moment later there was a low click. When she turned back, she held the final, blood-red shard of the Heaven Stone in one hand.
"Now may I and my daughter leave?"
"Yes. Go your way," said Tseng, "and peace be with you."
An hour after Godo and Yuffie had departed, a stunned atmosphere remained in the bar, as if a bomb had recently gone off. Although some looked relieved, no one appeared really triumphant. Tseng was gone for some time; then he reappeared, a bulky black radio under one arm.
"General Heidegger should be taking his morning lard right about now," he said to Rude. "I put in a call through the military transceiver. We should have his response by the end of the day."
"I know the General is a busy man," said Elena, "but, surely…"
"In case no one informed you, Heidegger isn't exactly the sharpest bayonet on the parade ground. Anyway, there are a number of considerations. If he wants us to repair the materia ourselves…if so, where. And if he wants to risk drawing Scarlet's attention by calling in MP's, or even Soldier, to help against the Rat King."
"Do we need the help, sir?" asked Hunter.
"Against forty-some men? You tell me. I'd certainly like to have all the help I can get. Besides, I've seen their guns. Those are Z-190's. Full automatic, nine hundred rounds per minute, fifteen per second."
"Per…second?"
Tseng chuckled. "That's right, I forget you were a street detective, used to playing with shivs and six-shooters. You never went up against the Rat King, did you?"
"No, sir. With all due respect, everyone on the force knows better."
Reno and Rude sat together in one corner, mixing the last of the coffee with whiskey. They said very little, but seemed, strangely enough, as if they were used to each other's company.
"Cards?" Rude offered.
"No thanks. I only play cash games, and you look like you got one hell of a poker face.-You got a point, though, we got to kill time somehow. What's up with Blondie over there, what's her deal?"
"That's Elena, our Public Relations officer."
"So? You think I got a chance with her?"
Rude sighed. "You can take the scumbag off the trash heap, but you can't take the trash heap out of the scumbag."
"Oh, c'mon, like you never thought about it." Reno bobbed his eyebrows. "Unless my earlier surmise was correct?"
When Rude, as usual, failed to rise to the bait, Reno turned his head.
"Yo, constable! For your mother's sake, would you knock off that creepy, slow-ass music!"
Salvador, sitting on the bar, with his feet on a stool, had been strumming a guitar so quietly and rhythmically Reno hadn't realized, until the moment he complained, he'd been hearing it at all. Rude also looked up, surprised.
Salvador grinned, showing nicotine-blacked teeth.
"You do not like it, little deputy? It is called the Deguello, the Executioner's Song. It is an old pirate song. When they played it from their ship, it meant they would not show their enemies any quarter. It is our enemies who should be scared, not us."
"Well…I don't care, I still think it's creepy as hell. Pass that thing over here and give me a go."
"Oh, can you play the guitar, Reno?" asked Elena, polite and solicitous of their new acquaintance.
"Sure, I'm a pro! I used to tour with all the big acts, like Izzy Thumbs and Black Fang."
"Really? That's incredible."
"He's putting you on, Elena," murmured Tseng, but said out loud: "Alright, let's have it. We could all use a laugh."
The mako lamps in the bar had not been turned on, and while sunlight poured in slats through the rafters, the room still had a melancholy, early-morning feeling, like an enlarged version of the prison cells in the back. Reno cradled the guitar, and studied the light as it fell, and the trapped particles of dust, and suddenly let out a big sigh.
"Well…I dunno, this is one my sister used to sing me. So sorry if my voice gets all girly," and, strumming idly, he began:
The water is wide...
I cannot cross o'er,
And neither have I wings to fly,
Give me a boat,
That can carry two,
And both shall ride, my love and I.
Elena looked delighted, and began to applaud. Tseng shushed her. Reno considered for a moment, before starting in on the second verse.
My love she's merry,
And my love she's bonny,
She's like good whiskey, when it is new
But love grows old, and waxes cold
And fades away, like the morning dew.
Hunter scratched his head. "Well, that sure ended on a downer."
"I thought it was great," said Elena.
"Si," Salvador agreed, "he plays well. You have been poor in your life, haven't you, my friend? All poor men know how to sing."
Reno gave a regretful smirk. "Yeah…something like that."
"Hey, I got one," said Hunter. "Reno, you know them Folsom Prison Blues?"
"Aw, I said enough sad, creepy music. How about Mideel Girls?"
"Come on, Reno, I bet you love that song. It's written all over your face."
Reno gave another deep sigh, and began to play. Hunter threw both arms behind his head in exaggerated gesture of hopelessness, leaned back, and began to sing:
I hear that train a'comin'
It's comin round the bend
And I aint seen the sunshine since, I don't know when
I'm stuck in Folsom Prison, and time keeps draggin on
But that train keeps rollin
On to Sector One.
Then Reno shut his eyes and, with a hitch in his voice, joined in for the next verse:
When I was just a baby, my mother told me, Son
Always be a good boy, don't ever play with guns
But I shot a man in Junon, just to watch him die
When I hear that whistle blowin, I hang my head and cry.
Elena dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief.
"That's…that's really beautiful."
"Aw, hell, Tseng," said Reno, "can we get this broad out of here? She's screwing with the vibe."
"At the moment, she outranks you," said Rude, "and we don't call ladies broads."
"Well excu-use me, Sir Rude of the Fucking Round Table."
Hunter laughed, and lit a cigarette. "Eh, you're okay in my book. I look forward to working with you. Okay, we'll do Mideel Girls. Mideel Girls they sing this song, doo-dah, doo-dah…I'm sorry, Rude, Mideel Ladies…"
Then amid the laughter, Tseng sat up, and a moment later there came a pounding on the door.
"Who goes there!" bellowed Salvador.
"Con amistad, con amistad!" came a panicked voice. "It's me, tio, Julio!"
Salvador touched the materia underneath the bar, the air in the doorway flickered, and Julio stumbled in, covered in dust.
"They come!" he gasped. "All forty of them! The town's safe; everyone knows it's trouble, they locked their doors."
"How long have we got?"
"I don't know, maybe three minutes…"
Around the room, chairs scraped back, guns clicked. Tseng stood with his pistol drawn, and shouted: "Behind the bar!"
No one had to be told twice. In a stroke of luck, the long bar barely accommodated all of them from one end to the other, and they crouched there in its shadow, breathing heavily.
"Hunter," whispered Elena, "get your hand off my knee."
"Sorry."
"Hey Rude," said Reno, "get your hand off my knee."
"It wasn't anywhere near…!"
"Shh."
Silence, inside and outside. Someone coughed.
Footsteps outside, slow and measured. A knock on the door.
"Let me handle this," Tseng muttered to Salvador. He called in a booming voice: "Who's there!"
The voice from the other side of the door sounded faint and wheedling, not unlike, reflecting Julio's prediction the day before, that of a traveling salesman.
"We know you're in there, Turk. Slide the stone under the door, please."
"And then we just waltz out?"
No answer.
Salvador cradled a shotgun against his chest. "Boys!" he called. "I am sure you all got mamas and poppas at home, waiting for you. Do not make your mamas cry when your hot blood is spilled on the sand of Costa Del Sol."
"We know there are seven of you," said the voice, implacable. "We have you outnumbered more than four to one. We are the deathless soldiers of the Rat King, and we will fight to the last man. Even if some of us die, not one of you will survive."
"You're pretty willing to die for another man's treasure," said Tseng. "I'll tell you what. Whichever of you is standing closest to that door? You'll be the first to die. Then the man behind you. Then the man behind him. Then the man behind him. You understand? There are no odds for you guys."
"Good one," Reno whispered.
"The King isn't with you, is he? I wonder why. Is he afraid to get his suit dirty? Or does he know that if he were standing in front of that door, he'd have no chance, no matter how many men were behind him?"
There was a pause, before a different, deeper voice announced: "All of you who are not Turks, come out with your hands up. You won't be hurt. Do you really want to die for these Shinra lackeys? Shinra doesn't care about you. They put your lives on the line for a piece of rock."
Yet a third voice joined in: "Mr. Baraza, you die, and this town is defenseless. We'll burn it down, kill every last man, woman and child. Is that what you want?"
Tseng looked at Salvador with real concern, and his gun was ready for immediate use. But after the briefest of pauses, Salvador answered: "Go fuck the devil in hell, cabron! My name is Salvador Baraza, son of Ferdinand, and I stand with Shinra and the Turks."
"Very well," said the first voice. "You have until the count of ten. Nine. Eight…"
Tseng pressed the cold metal gun barrel to his cheek. He looked left and right.
"Everyone?" They all nodded. "There's one way out. But I can't promise we all get out alive. Now in a second, I'm going over that bar. If anyone here is afraid to die…if you have any unfinished business…if you hesitate for even one second…don't follow. Those who do, we go in the order you call out."
"Si," said Salvador.
"Sir," said Rude.
"Yes, sir," said Hunter.
"Fucking right," Reno.
"I go," said Julio.
Elena hesitated.
"Four…three…"
"Now," said Tseng.
"Sir! Wait! I want to…"
But Tseng had already vaulted onto the bar, gun raised, and with a loud whoop, Salvador followed him.