Warning: This is as graphic as the story will get, but if you've read this far, I doubt it will bother you.

Elena only heard the first three seconds of gunfire. After that, it was drowned out by the ringing in her ears and the thud of her own heart. She felt the smooth wood of the bar on her back, and the rough sawdust under her buttocks. She held her service weapon, cold as the day it was issued, and stared at it.

One by one, the liquor bottles in the metal rack over her head burst and exploded like ripe fruit. Rivers of dark liquid poured toward her feet and the smell was oddly pleasant. Then the room seemed to grow brighter, and she realized the front wall was becoming a sieve, projecting crazy spears of hard, blue light at all angles, bouncing off specks of glass from the smashed windows. The curtains hung in ribbons that kicked up with each new volley. But the bar against her back held firm.

There were other sounds. An electrical hiss. Grunts. Bodies falling. Bullets whining as they glanced off barrier spells, thudding as they struck the earth. Then, after what seemed like hours, the faint, bell-like tinkling of Cure magic.

She looked at the crenelations of broken bottles, the multi-colored waterfalls pouring down, and the light sparkling over it all, and wanted to cry because it was so beautiful.

One of the Rat King's men, a short, burly thug whose bloodied face had a curiously passive, resigned expression, was trying to get to his feet. The whole left side of body failed to respond. Breathing between each exertion, he managed to prop his torso up on his right arm, as if executing half a push-up. He got hold of his rifle and wedged it underneath him, then began to work his right leg around, but suddenly flipped over onto his back. He raised his head and looked with disgust at his failed body. Then Tseng's bullet passed through his right temple.

Tseng lay on his stomach, every nerve ending in his body sizzling with pain. He had sighted the gun over his left forearm, and it remained there.

One of the last tricks the Guardians had been taught was slowing their heartbeats. The idea was to feign death, but it came in handy with two bullets in your right leg and another in your gut. It kept him from moving, but it would keep him alive for another few minutes.

Then a hoarse voice said: "You're good, Shinra."

Against his better judgment, Tseng looked up.

A very tall man, his black shirt washed with blood, stood between him and the sun. He coughed several times, and, after inspecting the contents of his fist, dropped several of his teeth onto the ground.

"I've never seen anyone move like that," he went on, sounding dazed. Tseng recognized the second voice they'd heard from inside the bar. "You killed a lot of my friends today. Well…more credit for me."

He struggled to aim his rifle. Then there was a solitary gunshot, and all at once his bulk vanished from sight. Tseng looked around. Elena stood in the door, braced against it, holding her gun with both hands. A moment later Rude was kneeling over him, and the Cure materia on his brass knuckle glowed. Tseng sat up, coughed, wheezed, held his injured leg, and spit.

"Thanks," he said.

"Are you alright, sir?"

"I've had worse hangovers on a Monday morning. How bad is it?"

Rude's shades had fallen off, and his exposed face looked vulnerable. He blinked as he said: "I patched Reno and Julio back into…some kind of shape. Hunter's gone. Sal's…going."

"Well what are you fucking around with me for, go to your uncle."

Rude dashed off, and Tseng slowly got to his feet. He looked around. Men were strewn like toppled dominoes, and the bright yellow sand was speckled with blood. Most of the Rat King's soldiers had fallen in a cluster in front of the door, while others lay further off, or had even made it to cover behind barrels across the street. One had climbed halfway up the steps of a house, and been finished off by a shot from inside. One was still twitching. Tseng pulled the trigger, but the gun was empty; he shrugged and walked off.

Hunter was lying with remarkable composure at the bottom of the steps. He looked as if he'd settled down for a nap. His pale blue eyes were open, and seemed to regard Tseng, but there was a neat bullet hole over the left. Tseng knelt down and shut his eyelids. Elena was standing over them, and when she looked down, she moaned and threw her gun away, as if it had suddenly gone hot in her hand. Reno approached, holding his left arm.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," said Tseng.

"You kidding?" said Reno, his voice tremulous. "I been in bar fights before."

"I mean I'm sorry you had to see such sloppy work. I shouldn't have underestimated the King, or I'd have left Midgar with more people. I take full responsibility…for all of this."

Rude and Julio, both their superficial wounds healed, were sitting on either side of Salvador's body. Salvador's eyes were open, but he whispered:

"I can't see. What happened to the sun?"

"We're here, tio," said Rude.

"Did we get them?"

"Yes, tio," said Rude. "All of them."

"That is…sad. It is never a good thing when men die."

"We were only defending ourselves."

"Yes. That's right."

Rude uncapped another Phoenix Down and sprinkled it on Salvador's chest, already covered with the golden dust like an effigy at a festival. The first three had had little effect, and this one did nothing.

Salvador struggled to speak: "It was an honor…to see you fight…Rudo. You were always strong…but I did not imagine you had become such a great warrior."

"Shh. Save your strength, tio. The doctor will mend you."

His time in Costa Del Sol had already introduced the local accent back into Rude's speech, and he added a few words in their now defunct, half-forgotten language. Salvador laughed.

"Do not use those words. Shinra is your future…ours…the planet's. You must be like them."

"I don't care about that now."

"I care about nothing else."

"Tio," Julio pleaded, "you heard Rudo, you need to shut that big fat mouth of yours."

"Okay. I'll be quiet…for a little while."

Then he went so still Rude felt his pulse in a panic, but he was still breathing. Tseng and Reno approached.

"I'm sorry for your loss," said Tseng.

"What are you saying? He is not dead…not like those fucking deathless soldiers." Julio shot upright, cracked the breech of his shotgun, and replaced the shells from his belt. "Now let us go kill their boss. I will show that pincho cabron what it means to be a soldier."

"Julio, please go for a doctor, and look after my colleague Elena," said Tseng. "I don't want anyone else getting hurt because of my stupidity."

"You don't understand, senor Tseng. For a man of Costa Del Sol, there is no greater honor than to die protecting what he cares about."

Rude put his hand on his brother's arm. "Please, do what he says. Think of your children."

Julio grimaced, but, with another glance at Salvador, went back inside.

All up and down the street, windows were sliding open. Doors creaked. Thick muttering filled the air.

"We doing this?" Reno asked Tseng.

"We can't give him time to regroup. Let's tell the King he's being deposed. Rude? Get the stone from the strongbox inside."

"Are you sure?"

"How else will we draw him out?"

"Sir."

"What time is it?"

Rude consulted his watch. "Eight minutes to noon, sir."

"Perfect."

The bodies had been cleared away, and the houses had gone quiet again. Reno sat on the steps of El Corazon, smoking. Rude leaned against the wall nearby, rifle on his shoulder. Tseng stood in the middle of the street, gun holstered, and between his feet sat the black briefcase containing all four shards of the Heaven Stone. The sun shone down on the glossy black top of his head, and he cast almost no shadow.

Two figures approached from the direction of the harbor. Tseng watched them come on, shading his face with one hand, and smiled. Rude lowered the rifle, and Reno stamped out his cigarette.

The bodies of the Turks were covered with fresh scars, their clothing torn and burned; the Rat King wore a spotless checked vest under a white duster coat, and Dyne's injuries had healed. But Dyne looked somewhat reluctant. The pair stopped twenty paces away. The Rat King put his hands in his pockets. He looked at Tseng, as if expecting him to hand the case over. A lazy wind blew over him; he touched his hair. A dog barked behind a tall fence, and was quickly hushed by its owner. Then the Rat King began to laugh. It was a false, unnerving sound.

"Turk! I owe you my thanks."

Tseng squinted at him. "You're an odd man, Fisk."

"I thought those forty men were my best. Evidently, I was mistaken. Tsk. Reno? You, as well."

"Oh yeah?" said Reno, swinging his nightstick. "Why's that, chief?"

"You know…for a second there, I was really thinking I'd been too hard on you. Perhaps you never meant to betray me, after all. I was considering offering you a second chance. But it's good to know my initial judgment wasn't mistaken. It rarely is."

"Yeah, you should've killed me when you had the chance, blah," Reno tapped the nightstick against his leg, "blah," tap, "blah," tap, "blah. But you know what? I am an idiot. It took me this long to realize a guy like you doesn't deserve a rat's loyalty…much less a human being with a brain in his skull. E tu, Dyne?"

"I trust you can count, Dyne," said Tseng. "Your odds are two to three…and keep in mind that it took forty of you to take down two of us."

Dyne and the Rat King looked at each other. Characteristically, neither showed much emotion.

"Well?" said the Rat King.

Dyne tossed his head. "You know?" he said, sounding weary. "The fuck-up's right. I'm not dying for you, Fisk. I don't even like you."

The Rat King's forehead twitched, but he gave no other visible reaction as he watched Dyne walk slowly off. Finally, when the giant was nearly out of sight, he removed his glasses and began polishing them.

"Last chance, Fisk."

"Do you really think I would lay down my gun for a glorified policeman like you? Poor Turk. You have no idea what real power is." The Rat King's weak eyes, inflamed by the dust, studied his glasses as the cloth worked over them. "I'm sorry that trash didn't put up a better fight. But, what is it they always say? If you want the job done right…do it yourself."

Three things happened in the same instant. The Rat King put on his glasses, and as his arm came up, the red materia set in his bangle flashed. Calmly he intoned, like a spell: "Midnight Special." Tseng drew and fired, Rude fired; the bullets passed through the Rat King's suddenly ghost-like form, which vanished a moment later.

Reno jumped. "Yo, what the hell!"

Tseng, gun still raised, was listening intently, glancing around. A guttural, rhythmic thud and rattle could be heard, and was getting louder every second. It was familiar to any resident of Midgar. He glanced at Rude.

"There's no train here," he said. "Is there?"

Rude shook his head.

"Get down! Cover your mouth and eyes!"

"What is it?" yelled Reno.

"Doomtrain!"

"What the hell is…?"

"Cover your mouth and eyes!"

Spectral flames shot up either side of the street. The sky darkened, the acrid tang of oil and rust filled the air, and barreling down the street, screaming on its invisible track, came the phantom train. Its headlamp glowed hellish red and underneath, stamped in metal, was a ghoulish face contorted in agony, screaming forever.

It shot past, screeching, clanking, and shuddering. From underneath poured a greasy black smoke that rolled over them, swamping the whole street and brushing the windows and doors of houses; cries and groans echoed from inside, dogs barked their heads off, infants howled. For half a minute, Costa Del Sol was plunged into nightmare; then as quickly as it appeared, Doomtrain was gone, but the stench and the impenetrable smoke remained.

Tseng staggered upright, breathing through his shirt. He looked down; Rude lay incapacitated, his skin covered with a dark oily sheen. Reno was curled up, hacking and coughing.

The Rat King reappeared, spotless, and the foul wind of Doomtrain's wake kicked up the tails of his coat. The green materia on his bangle flashed. A blast of fire shot from his hand, and Tseng, still reeling from the smoke, was blown off his feet.

A pleased flush sat on the Rat King's face; then he cringed and pulled back when the smoke touched him.

Tseng rolled with the impact and sprang back up, face and clothes charred; he touched his Barrier materia, and the next blast struck an invisible shield in the air, roared, and flew back at the Rat King. He tried to dodge, but it enveloped half his body and left him rolling in the dirt, angrily thrashing his clothes, and screaming in pain.

Tseng approached him with six sure steps, raising his gun.

In whatever unit by which such blindingly fast actions can be measured, the Rat King beat Tseng by a fraction. Even as his head came into Tseng's sights, the Rat King fired blind between his legs. The bullet caught Tseng in the shoulder. He fell.

In a blind rage, the Rat King shot again, and again, but he was firing into the air now. Finally the gun clicked. He swore, spun out the cylinder, and reached in his pocket. His hands were shaking badly. Spittle curled from his mouth, and the right lens of his glasses had cracked. None of his phlegmatic composure remained. The bullet slipped from his fingers. He chased it, clawing at the sand. The smoke was settling over him. A trace of blood joined the spittle; he'd bitten his tongue in frustration.

"As funny as this is to watch, I think you've had enough time."

Reno stood over him. He was soot blacked from head to foot, but there was light in his eyes. He pretended to ring an invisible bell.

"Ding."

The Rat King stared at him. Nothing but mindless psychosis remained in his beady eyes.

"You know," said Reno, squatting down, "you're a real pain in the ass. Somewhere in Midgar? There's a girl expecting a trip to the Gold Saucer. Do you know how much that shit costs? Now, cause of you, I have to take it out of my paycheck, cause if there's one thing Reno never does, it's disappoint the ladies. Up yours, Fisk."

The Rat King's hand curled around the bullet. Reno stepped on it.

"Uh, uh, uh. See? I got two axioms I live my life by. Number one, don't screw with anybody I don't need to. Number two, anyone screws with me, or the people I care about, I fuck them up. Understand?"

"Do…it," wheezed the Rat King.

Reno placed Tseng's gun to his chest and pulled the trigger. His whole body jerked. Blood pooled out underneath him. His face contorted but, through his snarling lips, he forced his last words:

"You…can't…do…anything…right."

Reno put the gun to his head this time.

"Word of advice. A little something my sister used to tell me. Be in hell half an hour before the devil knows you're dead."

He pulled the trigger again.

Night was falling on Costa Del Sol. Tseng sat in the darkened bar, a half-empty bottle of Wu-Tai rice wine and an empty glass in front of him. A white bandage was wrapped around his shoulder.

Rude came in, moving quietly. He glanced at the ruined bottles, and the liqour pooled on the floor.

"Waste of good booze."

"Now you've said something. Pull up a chair."

Rude did, and poured himself a drink. After a pause, Tseng said:

"Well?"

"Sal…passed on. There was nothing they could do for him."

Tseng nodded, and poured more wine.

"You heard what Julio said," Rude went on, haltingly. "He was…probably glad to go that way."

"That man trusted Shinra to his last breath, whether he should have or not. I bet he would have made a good Turk. I'm starting to think the same was true of Hunter. Now we're stuck with Wonderboy the Read-Headed Stepchild, and some girl who pisses herself at the scent of gun oil."

"That girl saved your life."

Tseng sighed. "I know. I'll probably never forgive her that."

"Reno, too."

"That? It was a flesh wound. I would've got back up in a second and murdered that guy."

Rude chuckled. "You never give up, do you?"

"That's how I became the man I am today."

They drank for a while in silence.

"Any word from Heidegger?" Rude asked.

"Yes. He wants us to take the stone to the reactor in Gongaga. I was expecting as much. It'll be a safe trip, at least."

Rude nodded. "Good. The Gongaga plant is one of our newest; their safeguards are top-of-the-line."

"I got to finish this paperwork. Go pack your bag. Tell Reno if he expects a goddamn pat on the head, he picked the wrong career."

"There is one more thing…"

"Hmm?"

"We're burying Salvador at midnight. The padre says he can do the service over Hunter as well…as a hero of Costa Del Sol. If you want. Or, we could send him back to Midgar."

"Hunter had no family," said Tseng, "and he wasn't religious. He wouldn't give a shit either way. Let them bury him here."

"Yes, sir."

Tseng remained for some time after Rude had gone, until the bottle was empty, and two more had joined it. The room was pitch-black after the sun went down, but he was used to the darkness.

AN: Don't worry, it's not over.