When I was little, back before the war, my mom used to tell me all the time not to follow strangers. (I guess I had a bit of an issue with that…)
I wonder what she'd do if she could see me now, running around Junon at some ungodly hour of the morning (I may or may not have lost track…), accompanied by a chain-smoking, foul-mouthed, engine-grease covered astronaut, while chasing after a bunch of strange men wearing black and carrying shipping boxes.
… I think she'd be proud.
Even though I'm super excited to go KICK THESE GUYS' COLLECTIVE ASSES, Cid and I have to maintain a good distance of space from them in order to avoid them being all suspicious and whatnot.
Even though the chances of Team Dark and Mysterious becoming suspicious of little ole' us is pretty slim, based on how hard they seem to be concentrating on doing a really bad job of not looking obvious.
They're heading toward the Junon docks, I think, and before I can even turn to glance at Cid, who last time I checked was next to me, he's out ahead of me like a rocket.
I could be awesome and say that pun was intended, but it wasn't. I know, I know, no points for Yuffie.
It's so not fair that Cid's gotta be that much taller than me; my legs, though I am of the school of thought that they are fabulous, are unfortunately only so long, and as a result, I have a lot of catching up to do. Which is totally not fair, because he smokes and should therefore not be ALLOWED to be that fast.
So my comfortable, leisurely pace is replaced by a breakneck sprint.
You know, now that I think about it, my mom used to tell me not to run like a maniac through busy streets as well.
She must be wiping tears of joy from her eyes.
&
I finally catch up with Cid as soon as we reach the stretch of road in front of the dock that really used to be the only road in Upper Junon. The WRO tore the old Shinra base down after the whole Meteor thing and turned it into a really nice combined residential and commercial sort of place.
Tifa and I should really take a day trip here some time…
He looks like he's been waiting for a while, but at least he's nice enough to wait.
"Hey Cancer-man! I thought you were here to make sure I didn't kill myself! Fine job of looking out for me you did back there!" I stick my tongue out at him. I think it emphasizes my point effectively.
"Shut yer yap, Kid. I thought you were supposed to be followin' these guys anyway, not taking an afternoon walk," he shoots back, smirking again. "Come on – they hauled ass to the docks, and I'll bet they aren't going to take their time loading those boxes."
We begin our approach to the docks as casually as we can, pretending to mill about with the occasional civilian (most likely visiting the dock to see what's going on). We've done our best to look the part of interested, typical city dwellers – we've hidden our weapons as best we can behind a large crate by the wall, and I'm praying to Leviathan that one, we won't need them, and two, they're not found by anyone.
So far, so good, and hopefully everything will remain as such.
When we arrive at the loading dock, everything is much busier than I'd been expecting it to be. There are lots of ships being loaded with cargo today, and it'll take us a while to figure out which one belongs to our beloved baddies.
"We should probably wander around a bit," I say to Cid, "You know, chat with people, crews from various ships… mingle."
Because I'm sure Cid can mingle with proficiency. Oh Yuffie, what have you set yourself up for?
My unease increases tenfold when I notice that he hasn't been listening very well and has, in fact, been mumbling the entire time we've been in front of the cargo ships.
"Damn stupid is what it is… 'Let's send it by OCEAN!'… Fuckin' retarded is what it is."
Grumble, grumble, grumble. How the heck does Shera put up with him?
"… Cid? Cid, did you hear a SINGLE thing I just told you?" I'm trying not to sound overly annoyed, because it's Cid and he really can't help it, but DAMN. How on the Planet did he survive to adulthood?
"Yeah… mingling. Fuckin' idiots… thinkin' ships are efficient in this day 'n age…"
In all honesty, it's probably the best response I could've hoped for. Giving a bit of a mental shrug, I decide to make my way over to one of the docked boats and try to extract some information from a crew member.
&
"Well hello there, hot stuff," comes a voice from behind me right as I arrive at the first ship.
Okay, first of all, "hot stuff?" What the hell kind of place is this, a dumpy dive bar on the outskirts of town? No. Also, I really have to say that the totally obvious pick-up line tone really added a tremendous effect and turned me into a puddle of goo right here on the walkway.
Really. Look for yourself. There's nothing there except a puddle marked by a sign saying "Here lies Yuffie Kisaragi, reduced to a wiggling puddle of hormones and organ-goo as the result of being exposed to manliness of unmatched proportions."
Rolling my eyes, I turn to face my harasser.
OH. GROSSNESS.
Dirty, smells like fish, and missing teeth. Exactly what I'd call a fabulous find. Hell, I might as well marry him right here.
Anyway, he might have some good information, so I resign myself to playing along.
My current dignity level, in case you were wondering, has just fallen to an all-time low of 3 out of 100. As long as Cid doesn't see this, though, I should be fine.
Though, knowing my luck, he'll see us, scare off the creepster, and then proceed to laugh at me about this until I'm 87.
"Heey," I drawl, trying to make my voice a bit lower and less little-girlish.
It doesn't work too well, but Creepster doesn't seem to notice.
I named him. Didja notice?
"What's a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?" He's smiling now. Not a good smile either, since he's missing teeth and it's that smile that says "Let me take you over behind some of those crates and we'll… talk for hours upon hours."
Gag.
"I'm actually looking for my brother. You see, he's working on one of these ships and forgot his lunch this morning," I reply, batting my eyelashes all the while.
Dignity index? A good, solid negative 70 points.
The crewman… his name's Jed, according to his nametag, so Jed pretends to look all thoughtful-like (even though you and I both know that the only thing he's thinking about does not include this supposed brother of mine).
"What's your brother look like, babe?"
Shoot me now. Seriously. Where's Vinnie when you need him? I'm sure one of his arsenal of weapons would suit me just fine. I mean, it's not like I'm Azul or anything, and Vince managed to off him fairly satisfactorily, so I'm sure one of his guns would work just fine for ending this misery.
"Weeell," I draw out the "Well" because I remember some old TV show where this really slutty chick drew out her words while playing with her hair and popping her hip to the side. She accomplished nothing aside from looking totally vapid while having guys drooling all over her, so I figure that'd be a good model for emulation. "He's wearing black. And… I think he's carrying one of those shipping box things. He and a buncha his friends are all working the same ship. They're all wearing black, now that I think about it, so he's not the only one. Uniform or whatevs."
Dear Leviathan, please let me sound convincingly vapid. Dignity index as of now? Trust me, you don't want to know. Once we're done here, I'm taking the world's longest shower.
Jed "thinks" for a moment more before pointing toward the last ship on the dock.
"Try down there. Some new guys, I think… just started rentin' the spot 'bout a month ago."
"Thanks," I drawl again, adding in the eyelashes once more (with FEELING! … I kid.). "When's your break?" I ask, wanting to maintain my image of vapid, slutty, desperate girl. "Maybe I'll see you," I wink at him (VOMIT) and dash off down the dock.
I really hope that there's a shower stall open once we return to the Shera… otherwise Cid's going to have to deal with me scratching all of my skin off onto his upholstery, and I don't think he'd be too pleased with that.
&
I run into Cid right in front of the baddies' cargo vessel, conveniently enough. He's arguing with a crew member about the merits of shipping by air versus the "fuckin' stupidity" of shipping by sea. Vaguely entertaining, but the incredibly repetitive arguments of "Efficiency, for one; 's just a waste of energy and labor to send shit by sea since it takes so much goddamn time," or "WHAT'D YOU SAY ABOUT AIRSHIPS?"
I drag Cid away as soon as he's about to extol the amazing qualities of the Shera and how much battle she's seen and whatnot, since I'd really rather not draw any attention to ourselves on a recon mission.
I get us settled against a wall where we can watch our favorite suspects loading up the cargo. Well, I watch. Cid just grumbles.
"Dammit kid, I was about to end the argument then and there."
Sure Cid. I bet you were.
Have I ever mentioned how boring it is to watch people put boxes labeled with some mundane company logo onto a ship for hours at a time?
Because it is INCREDIBLY. BORING.
If I see the logo for "Clearwater Pharmacorp" one more time, I will scream.
Suddenly, I scream. The idiot dockworker that was standing in front of me has dropped his crate right centimeters from my foot and the cargo is scattered everywhere.
Hang on. The cargo looks vaguely familiar.
Oh. Snap. Looks like my shower's going to have to wait.
As I am a college student with a very busy extracurricular life, I'm going to be uploading whenever I can. This might mean a bit of a wait, but fear not, I have written ahead -- waits shouldn't be too terrible, barring any horrifying accidents. :)