Before Crisis: The Beginning

By DarkAngel

Disclaimer: Square-Enix owns it all. I'm just mucking around in their universe.

Chapter 25: The Boy I Used To Be

The fresh air felt wonderful in Rosalind's lungs. With each breath of the bitter air northern she felt invigorated. She hadn't realized how muddled her mind had been up until this moment. Now her thoughts were clearing she could turn her mind to more important things. Like…

"Rosalind." She looked up to see Rude watching her (at least she thought he was watching her) through his shades. She shook her head and smiled a little at him. "I'm fine. Thank you, Rude."

He nodded, turning away to look at something in the distance. After some time, Rosalind felt that she had caught her breath and prepared herself enough for what was to come next. Her brow knitted. "What's next?" Rude merely pointed to the horizon beyond. He had left the chopper there. Rosalind nodded mutely. They began their walk.

"How long was I in there?"

"…" At first Rosalind thought he wasn't going to answer. "Almost 50 hours."

Now it was Rosalind's turn to become quiet. She looked around. Where was this place, anyway? "Icicle?" she murmured to herself. It certainly felt like it, what with the perpetually chilling winds and the white snows washing over the landscape. So she hadn't left the continent, then. But…

"My search turned up nothing about an AVALANCHE facility here," Rosalind said in a louder voice. When Rude didn't answer, she continued. "But obviously there was. So… what's going on in there? More importantly, how did they know I was there?" She was beginning to feel a bit silly. Rude wasn't answering her, and the more she thought about it, the more there was to be embarrassed about. How could she have missed a place like this? How could she have gotten caught? She sighed. And she would have to report all of this directly to Tseng, too…

"Rosalind." Rude's voice startled her out of her thoughts. Suppressing the urge to jump, her head snapped up.

"Yes sir?"

"Don't blame yourself." It was all he said before turning back around again. Rosalind followed him, watching his back. She watched his back, waiting for him to say something more. When he didn't, she gave up and smiled. So he was a mind reader now.

"Thank you, Rude."

-*-*-*-*-

The AVALANCHE operatives they were up against weren't leaving St. Andrew with many options. The sound of the operatives' boots tromping down the corridor filled his ears. In St. Andrew's mind a dozen scenarios ran at light-speed through his head: how could he and Cloud get out of this situation intact? Each possibility having been rejected, and now coming up blank, he laughed, a short burst of laughter that startled the blonde beside him. St. Andrew shook his head, grinning at Cloud to reassure him. It's okay, the grin said. We'll get out of this alive and be back in time for supper, to boot. It didn't matter if he himself believed those words or not; what mattered was getting Cloud and Laylee to safety.

Once they were in the next train car, St. Andrew started to back up. He called out to Cloud, stopping him. "Hey!"

He looked around. It should be somewhere around here… somewhere… there! His training hadn't abandoned him after all.

Sticking his hands in his pockets, St. Andrew searched for the right words. He wasn't too good at this self-expression thing. Glancing at Cloud, he took a breath. "My job is to protect the Shin-Ra company's secrets. It doesn't matter how I do it." Cloud raised his eyebrows, but St. Andrew glanced away quickly, choosing instead to focus on the touch panel in front of him. Finding the buttons he needed, he pushed them. Then with a grin that split his features, he smashed his weapon as hard as he could into the electronic console, watching with satisfaction as sparks and smoke rose from it. There was the sound of metal unlocking, and a lurch that almost sent him off his feet. He watched, almost disinterestedly, as the train cars connecting him with Cloud and Laylee began to separate. Cloud shouted. St. Andrew waved whatever the boy had been about to say aside.

"I told you, didn't I? My job is to protect the company's interests. Cloud, take care of Doctor Laylee. That's your job." The distance between the train cars was growing. With one last wave, St. Andrew turned his back on Cloud and the retreating car. Just in time, too. The black-garbed AVALANCHE operatives were marching down the corridor. Without giving himself further time to think, St. Andrew grabbed onto the ladder that would lead to the top of the train. He would think of something in the meantime…

The slipstream created by the fast-moving train nearly made St. Andrew stumble back down the ladder again, but he tightened his grip, gritting his teeth against the rush of furiously moving air. Once he was able to find some sense of equilibrium, he started making his way – carefully – along the train, hoping he wouldn't run (literally) into any tunnels or other unexpected surprises. Right now the only thing that mattered was putting as much distance between himself and AVALANCHE as possible. And then maybe, if the timing and distance was all right, he could make the jump to the other car.

He'd gotten maybe halfway across when a sound made him look around. St. Andrew stifled a groan. Well, it was only one of them. And in this narrow space, he doubted he'd be facing more than one of them at a time. If there was any chance he was going to win against them, he supposed it would be here. With these thoughts bracing him, he readied his weapon.

Whatever these guys were made of, it was tougher stuff than the average flunky. Some extended arcs of lightning and a physical blow to the gut later, St. Andrew had taken down the operative. Were they all going to be this tough?

He felt his knuckles scrape against the metal of the roof as he pulled himself up once more, preparing for the slow journey across to the other train car. A metallic taste invaded his mouth; he'd bitten himself during that last fricassee. Swallowing, he reached an arm out. Just a little at a time. He only had to go a little at a time.

It wasn't very long before he encountered his second obstacle. Not one but two operatives – they must have split up. Now he had two of them approaching him from opposite ends of the car: a classic pincer movement. Swearing, St. Andrew wondered just how he was going to fight two tough-as-hell operatives and keep his ass from falling off the train; a fine balancing act if there ever was one. And then he wasn't thinking but just trying to hang on as the train gave a great lurch… and came to a stop.

Luck was on his side, though, because although he did fall, he somehow managed to land on his feet. Like a cat, he thought bemusedly. He didn't have much more time to dwell on the thought, because the AVALANCHE operatives were jumping down after him. Sighing, he readied his weapon.

It wasn't by any means an easy battle. He had to keep dodging the Death spells they kept aiming at him, and then there was the fact that they were defensively more beefed up than their average counterparts. As if that wasn't enough, those swords they carried may not have been terribly long, but their reach was just enough to keep St. Andrew dancing.

After dealing with the operatives, St. Andrew crouched low, his breathing harsh. Damn, he was really out of it. A fight like that shouldn't have winded him like it had. He was getting soft. Or they were getting tougher. The troubling thing was, St. Andrew couldn't tell which it was.

His head snapped up then. Wait. Why had the train stopped in the first place? Something was crystallizing in his mind and freezing his spine. If the car had stopped, then that meant… He swore. "Cloud!"

-*-*-*-*-

Rafe felt something hit him in the head. Opening his eyes, his first thought was that he hadn't been aware of going to sleep. Blinking, he tried to focus through narrowed eyes at the figure swimming in his vision.

"It's time to switch," Samantha said matter of factly. She crossed her arms. "You know, the more I think about this, the more I think one of our own has betrayed us."

It took some moments for what she was saying to register. And then he only shook his head, holding his hand up to his temple. Ugh. This was what he got for sleeping on the couch. "I've got a headache," he muttered.

"You think you've got a headache?" Samantha exclaimed, her voice unnaturally loud in the otherwise quiet break room. She slumped down on the couch, unceremoniously shoving his legs aside. "Try six hours of sifting through boring executive memorandums. That'll get your engine running."

Rafe raised an eyebrow. "How much closer are we getting?"

Wearily, Samantha made an idle gesture with one hand. "Oh, you know. The problem with a company as large as Shin-Ra isn't just the volume of information." She sighed. "I know the systems maintenance people have to purge old files once in a while, but I really do wish they'd bother to back some of that stuff up. What a bother."

Did that mean she'd found something? "Did your trail get cut off?"

"Sort of." Samantha wrinkled her nose. "There's been a number of logins from different terminals in this building. And then there's the stuff that's been coming from outside the building." Samantha pursed her lips. "Each login doesn't stay active for more than ten minutes, but whoever's doing it always does the same thing." She smiled, raising an eyebrow at Rafe. "Have you checked your mail today?"

Rafe considered this. "No," he said at last. "But I should."

"You should." Samantha made a shooing gesture at him. "I've left a note there telling you where I left off." She smiled sweetly at him in an 'I'm-so-very-kind' way.

"Thanks." He knew she was baiting him, but damned if he was going to rise to it. He'd dealt with trickier minxes than her in his time. With that thought in mind, he bowed, a mocking tilt to his mouth barely checked. "Is there anything else the lady requires before she retires once more?" It didn't hurt to keep up the polish, either. He might have left the Don's service, but some things were worth remembering.

"No. You may go," she said loftily. She stood up. "Actually, there was something I forgot to mention."

"Yes?" With Samantha, it could be anything, and Rafe prepared himself for some rather unpleasant news. It didn't hurt, especially where Samantha was concerned.

"There's someone in particular Tseng wants earmarked." She raised her eyebrows. "Bet you'll never guess who it is."

Rafe shrugged. He'd find out sooner or later, wouldn't he? As far as he was concerned, this was all part of his job. Nothing more, nothing less.

Samantha, seeing he wasn't going to humour her, finally gave up with a huff. "You're no fun," she muttered. Shaking her head, she got up. "I'll see you later, Rafe. Rosalind and Rude should be home by the time you get through, so you know who to bother." She waved a hand lightly. "Tseng said depending on how much more information you can dig up, he might have us doing some reconnaissance. It would make a nice change," she continued.

Rising up from the couch, Rafe made his way to the Turks offices, hands in his pockets. If he finished his part of the search early enough, maybe he could hit Rude up for some of the usual. It had been a while, after all…

-*-*-*-*-

It didn't take more than a few seconds for St. Andrew to locate the train car he'd uncoupled. It had rolled to a stop just half a metre from where the other car had stopped. Apparently something blocking the tracks had caused both cars to kick in with their auto-brake systems. Things couldn't have been better in that regard. Launching himself into the other car, St. Andrew came just in time to see Cloud fall at the hands of an AVALANCHE flunky. The operative was just making a move to grab Laylee when St. Andrew barked. "Your back's wide open, AVALANCHE!"

The black-clad operative whipped around.

"A Turk! When did you -?!"

St. Andrew grinned. "That doesn't matter, does it?" He launched himself at his opponent, feeling a rush of adrenaline overtake him as he tackled the operative. Twisting, he let his enemy take the impact; the sound of air escaping the flunky's lungs as he smashed against the train floor only made St. Andrew's heart beat harder. Scrambling up, St. Andrew followed up with a kick to the operative's head.

"Had enough yet?" St. Andrew grabbed him by the collar. His grin grew even bigger. "Guess not." Smash. St. Andrew punched him straight in the face, following up with another blow to the back of the head as he shoved him down once more to the train's floor. Pressing down hard on the enemy's windpipe, St. Andrew shoved the business end of his EMR at the guy's throat with the other. There was a sizzling zap. St. Andrew stood up.

Cloud was staring at St. Andrew wide-eyed. St. Andrew dusted himself and gave the younger man a quizzical look. "Hey man, are you okay?"

The soldier nodded, clutching his chest. "You're safe." He sounded both relieved and pained, and St. Andrew frowned. The hell the kid was okay. He'd probably taken a few rough blows. Rolling his eyes, he raised his arm, palm raised in Cloud's direction. With a small murmur, a green aura of light surrounded the boy, who looked, if anything, startled.

"Thanks," Cloud muttered, looking down. St. Andrew shrugged.

"Don't worry about it. I'm going to check out what's going on out there." He jerked his thumb toward the window. Doubtless there was going to be some shit kicking, if there already wasn't.

"I'll come too." Cloud was pushing himself to his feet. He still looked a little tender around the edges, his voice raspy. He wasn't going to be much use in battle in that condition, and St. Andrew had the feeling that Cloud knew it. The boy had something to prove. Maybe not to St. Andrew, but the older man knew that look when he saw it. He had no wish to see the boy die.

"You're not going to be any use in battle like that," St. Andrew said. He tilted his head. "Stay here with Laylee." She needed someone to look after her, after all. They stared at each other for several moments. Finally, Cloud nodded, though the determination was still there. Fine. So long as he stayed behind and did his job, St. Andrew didn't care. Turning around without another word, he exited the train.

The air was cool down here in the tunnels. St. Andrew shivered a little, sticking his hands in his pockets. Well, he supposed he ought to see if there was anything he could do to get the train moving again.

And then they came. One, two, three… no, four of them. Two of them were the average AVALANCHE underlings St. Andrew had grown accustomed to dealing with. It was the other two that were going to be trouble. Death. Again. Rolling his shoulders, he prepared for what was doubtless going to be a very gruelling fight.

"St. Andrew! I'm going to fight too!"

If St. Andrew could have strangled the kid with telepathy, he would have done it right then and there. What the hell was he thinking?! St. Andrew watched with dismay as Cloud hopped off the train, weapon raised.

"Stay back, Cloud!" St. Andrew barked. This battle was hard enough without soldier boy getting himself beat up again.

The leader of the enemy group, one of the black-clad AVALANCHE operatives, cocked his head at the two regulars behind him. "Finish them." St. Andrew whipped back into his stance, ready for battle. He nearly jumped out of his skin when a roar filled the tunnel. The roar was coming from the boy, who was even run running past him right at the operatives. There was the sound of metal slicing air, and then a pair of agonized screams. The smell of blood immediately filled the cool air of the tunnel, and the sound of bodies falling heavily filled St. Andrew's ears. Was this the same kid who'd gotten beat up time and again? St. Andrew watched, feeling the first stirrings of uncertainty in his heart when Cloud turned back to him. His eyes. He knew those eyes.

"You're shitting me," St. Andrew said lowly. "A kid like swinging a sword that huge around…" Now that he thought about it, Cloud had carried a shotgun with him the whole time. Where had he gotten that sword?

The remaining operatives advanced. "Death to the Shin-Ra!"

The boy was a far better fighter with the sword in hand than with a gun. St. Andrew wondered why his superiors hadn't noticed this or seen fit to equip him with something he could actually use. Even as he watched, Cloud whirled around and caught an operative in the midsection, slicing neatly. St. Andrew swallowed, holding down bile at the sights and smells the dying operative was releasing.

The last operative St. Andrew took care of himself. With one last swipe across the temple of the enemy, he had them knocked out. St. Andrew crouched, holding his hands to his knees, attempting to get his breath back. Some feet away, Cloud was doing the same.

"Cloud, that was amazing." St. Andrew laughed. It had been a bit blunt and brutal, but the boy could do wonders with a sword.

Cloud raised his hands to his face. He'd dropped the sword as soon as he'd taken down that last operative. His voice shook. "I… was desperate. I don't remember what happened…"

St. Andrew looked at him, concerned. The glow in Cloud's eyes was dimming. He was shaking, as though he'd exerted far more energy than he could afford. His breathing was still uneven, coming in little gasps. What kind of power had he used? St. Andrew wanted to say something, but couldn't think of any way to broach it. "Let's get back on the train." It was the best he could offer. To his relief, Cloud nodded, bringing his hands down from his face.

There was something off – St. Andrew could feel it as soon as they re-entered the car, though he couldn't quite pinpoint why he felt that way. From beside him, Cloud drew a sharp breath. St. Andrew followed his gaze.

"That AVALANCHE guy – he isn't here anymore."

He was right. The guy St. Andrew had taken down was gone. His eyes travelled farther up the car. And there was a shadow there, at the very end of the car –

St. Andrew swore and broke into a run. Skidding into a crouch, he shook Doctor Laylee's shoulder. Behind him he could hear Cloud's harsh breathing. St. Andrew's eyes scanned the perimeter. Where had that AVALANCHE bastard gone to?

Laylee moaned and St. Andrew's attention was immediately upon her. Helping her to sit up, he asked what had happened. Clutching her head, she whispered. "I didn't think he would… he just stood up and…" From what she was saying, the operative had suddenly risen up, attacked Laylee and ran. With the disk in hand. A heavy metal ball dropped to the lowest point in St. Andrew's stomach.

"Don't worry. There's a security lock on the disk that only I know how to release." She tried to smile, though the expression was pained.

But that wasn't what was worrying St. Andrew. He had a bad feeling about that AVALANCHE operative. Before he could give voice to his concerns, the train's PA system crackled to life.

"We have cleared up the problem causing the delay and will soon be resuming service."

There was a brief lurch as the train started to move. He frowned, staring out the windows. No signs of AVALANCHE anywhere. Come to think of it, those guys they'd fought… where were they?

They'd all disappeared. And the feeling in the pit of St. Andrew's stomach grew heavier.

-*-*-*-*-

It was, Rosalind thought, good to be home. Even if she wasn't looking forward to having to tell Tseng and Veld about her failure, at least she would be in a warm place. She took that small comfort with her as she and Rude entered the lifts that would take them up to the offices housing the Turks offices. She watched idly through the glass of the lift as the people in the lobby grew smaller and smaller until they were obscured, and the only thing she could see then was the dark of the shaft around them.

Rude hadn't said anything the entire way back since Icicle. By now she knew better than to be bothered by the silence, but the closer they got to Tseng, the more she wished the other man would say something, anything to slacken the tension. She looked in his direction to see if he would offer something, but he merely stared straight ahead.

The chiming sound as they reached their destination coincided with the dreadful thump in Rosalind's chest. She'd never failed anything in her life before. And of all the things, all the places where she could have failed… this was the worst. She bit down hard on her lip to keep the sting in her eyes from getting worse. Turks accepted their responsibility. They didn't try to win with tears.

The cool air of the offices brushed across Rosalind's cheeks and froze whatever tears might have threatened. Taking a deep breath, she nodded at Rude. "I'll see you later."

Rude shook his head. "We're reporting together."

Oh. She wasn't sure if that made her feel better or more nervous. She made a small gesture. "I guess… I'll lead the way then."

Two soft taps on Tseng's door yielded a terse "come in". The second-in-command of the Turks glanced at them briefly, telling them to take a seat. They did, Rude sitting stolidly in one chair, Rosalind perched on the edge of hers. When Tseng was done looking at whatever was on his computer screen, he turned his attention to them. Rosalind fought the urge to look away – that black gaze always made her feel as though he was searching to the deepest part of her.

"I'm glad you made it back safe and sound," Tseng started. His eyes flickered over Rude, then Rosalind. His fingers were steepled, covering his mouth. Unreadable. Just like always. Figuring the best response was just to acquiesce, Rosalind nodded. "Thank you, sir."

"What happened out there?" There was no preamble. There never was with Tseng. At times Rosalind found this trait admirable - those were the times it wasn't directed at her. Swallowing, she started with the basics – how her mission had gone up to the point where she'd contacted Tseng about the storm.

"You see the funny thing about that," Tseng interrupted, "was that there was a storm, but not one that warranted delaying the flight back to headquarters."

Rosalind's head snapped up.

"As a matter of fact, the chopper pilot waited, and when you didn't show up, I sent Rude out there to look for you."

Why did she feel like she was getting a scolding? His voice hadn't changed tone in the slightest, but Rosalind flinched. "It took a little doing, but some good did come of all this." Rosalind looked up, half-curious, half filled with dread at what would come out his mouth next.

"Sir?"

"That holding facility AVALANCHE held you in. I doubt they'd go through the trouble and expense of relocating just because of that one incident." Tseng's thin lips curled up ever so slightly at the corners. It took Rosalind only a few seconds to get what her superior was getting at.

"It's a good chance for reconnaissance."

"Among other things."

Rosalind breathed out. Relief didn't quite describe what she was feeling; she doubted she was off the hook. But it was good to know that the mission hadn't been a complete failure. "I'm happy to hear that sir," she murmured.

Tseng glanced once more at his computer. "Get some rest. I want you back here this evening at 22:30." He waved a hand idly. "Your report can wait until tomorrow."

"Yes sir." It was amazing how a little bit of news like this could turn Rosalind's mood around. Standing up, she gave her superior a quick bow before exiting the office. As she made her way out of the building, she thought about what Tseng could possibly have in store for them. She wasn't looking forward to returning to Icicle, but any chance to redeem herself was more than welcome from where she stood.

And I will. I won't make the same mistake twice.

-*-*-*-*-

There were no signs of any of the AVALANCHE operatives St. Andrew and Cloud had come into contact with. Not even that operative Cloud had so brutally sliced up, which St. Andrew found just as disturbing if not more than the other disappearances. It was as if they'd never been there in the first place. Having made a brief report to Tseng over the phone, St. Andrew figured there was nothing else left for him to do here. He turned to Cloud and Doctor Laylee to say goodbye.

"St. Andrew… Can I ask you one thing?" Cloud's voice came out as a mumble and he shifted, his eyes meeting St. Andrew's for the briefest of seconds before darting down to stare at the ground.

Sticking his hands in his pockets and cracking his neck, St. Andrew shrugged. "Go ahead."

"Why'd you separate the train cars back there?" The boy sounded honestly confused. St. Andrew couldn't blame him. At the time the main thing going through his head had been to protect Cloud and Laylee. It hadn't really mattered what methods he used. Sighing, he shrugged again.

"Actually, I learned that from you."

"Huh?" If Cloud had been confused before, he looked positively lost now.

"How to do my job as a Turk," St. Andrew explained. He finally knew why that look in Cloud's eyes made him react the way he did. The boy reminded St. Andrew of himself when he was younger. Once, long ago, there had been a feisty kid willing to fight for what he believed was right. That same boy had been willing to put his life on the line to protect his gang. He hadn't been a big believer in sacrificing lives to get results. By disobeying that order to take the disk and run… I think I've got something of my old self back. That was the way he wanted to work as a Turk. He didn't want to sacrifice himself to be the best. He shouldn't have to.

"Uh... I don't remember what I did, but… okay," Cloud muttered, scratching at the back of his head. His cheeks were tinged slightly. St. Andrew laughed.

"Forget about it." He wondered how things were at HQ now. Doubtless AVALANCHE was running everybody ragged. He hadn't seen some of the others for over a week now. St. Andrew closed his eyes. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the action. It sure beat the patrols he'd been doing in the first few weeks with Reno and Rude. But at the same time…

I think I need a holiday. Maybe he'd get on his bike and go to Junon. It had been a while, after all.

Cloud's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Hey, uh… St. Andrew? Thanks… for helping us out today. Really." We couldn't have done it without you. The words were left unsaid, but St. Andrew knew they were in there… and how tough it must have been for a soldier to say that to a Turk.

"Don't worry about it. Watch out for your buddies, all right?" He had had his doubts at the start, but he knew that Cloud would become a strong soldier. Just like he himself would become the strongest Turk. And beat Reno flat on his ass. His grin was threatening to split his face in two now.

The PHS in St. Andrew's pocket rang. He answered immediately, momentarily forgetting what he'd done the last time he'd used that phone.

"St. Andrew."

The memories came rushing back. St. Andrew flinched. Veld would skin him alive and kick his rear five ways from Sunday. He was gonna get it now, he just knew it. He only hoped that whatever punishment the boss man meted out for him didn't involve humiliation or too much pain. Belatedly, he realized he ought to respond when his superior was speaking to him.

"Sir! I uh, the mission's…"

An utter failure? The disk had been taken after all, and he'd disobeyed orders on top of that.

"The disk?" Veld cut him off.

Well, he was getting to that. Running a hand through his hair, he spoke one word only. "Gone." Terse. Clipped.

"I see. Report back to headquarters for a full debriefing. There's also a new assignment for you." Great. Another one. So much for that drive to Junon.

However, Veld was his ultimate boss, and there was only one answer. "Roger that," he said, trying to keep the sigh out of his voice. He wasn't sure if he managed it, but Veld didn't say anything more, so St. Andrew hung up. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he turned back to Cloud. Behind the boy there were other Shin-Ra soldiers speaking with the doctor. Not that she needed any more backup – AVALANCHE had gotten what they really wanted; Laylee didn't matter to them now.

"I've gotta head back," he said instead to Cloud.

"Yeah." Cloud turned to follow the line of St. Andrew's gaze. "I've got to head to my next post, too. We're supposed to be guarding the Mako reactors."

St. Andrew nodded. "See ya 'round." He turned his feet in the direction of HQ. It would be quicker to just take the train – he was at the station, after all – but he had had his fill of trains for a while. And, truth be told, he wasn't in that much of a hurry to get back to headquarters.

"St. Andrew!"

The auburn haired Turk turned around, his heel scraping against the pavement. Raising a quizzical brow at Cloud, he waited.

"I'll see you around, okay?" He was grinning now, his expression a little shy, but sincere. St. Andrew wondered if he'd ever been like that. He felt as though he'd spent his entire life as a sarcastic, cynical person. People like Cloud were almost like dreams to St. Andrew. A part of him just couldn't believe that such people could exist.

Nevertheless, he raised a hand in response. "I'll see you around, soldier!" For a second, he saw the boy's eyes widen, then he began to laugh, an awkward but happy sound. Waving one more time, St. Andrew turned back around and resumed his walk once more. If only happiness could come that easily for everyone. If only happiness was like a fish you could catch…

To be continued…

Author's Notes: Long time no update. Hm. I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter. To be honest, I feel like the quality of this story is sliding down with every chapter. Ah, well. Do tell me what you think, yeah?