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Chapter XVII – Fight Fire With Fire
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Flames licked at her feet as a wall of fire surrounded her, its crackle a cacophony of laughter. Her eyes darted to and fro to no avail. There was no escape. Sweat dripped heavily from her brow and chin, falling onto her chest to trickle down the curvature of her breasts. She clenched her naked fists, quickly realising that her fighting gloves were missing. Mako eyes blistering with malignity suddenly appeared amidst the flames.
A fierce malachite green.
"Tell me what you cherish most..." She spun around towards the source of the voice to find a black-caped man bearing down on her. She stumbled back, her recognition of the figure instantly gripping her in terror. She attempted to speak but he beat her to it. "... Give me the pleasure of taking it away." Sephiroth raised his katana, Masamune, and Tifa froze; all words she attempted died in her throat. He brought down the huge seven foot sword and, with one fell stroke, sliced her open.
Her skin screamed as the curved blade ran through her flesh, leaving a trail of fire hotter than any of the flames around her. Blood poured from the diagonal cut. She fell, her mouth held open by a silent scream. Suddenly she found herself falling forward instead of back, falling towards the arms of the world's enemy. Sephiroth's eyes were gone, his sockets now replaced with flames as his mouth hung open; a mirror of her own. Just like his eyes, his mouth held fire.
"I fear not death. Do you understand? I've already seen hell." Flames erupted from him as Sephiroth burst into fire and Tifa found herself falling into the arms of the damned.
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~ o0o ~
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Tifa choked. Bolting upright she gasped for air, raising a hand to her burning throat. An image of cut flesh assaulted her mind and she grasped at her chest, frantically pulling away her clothing in search of the bloody gash. Instead, much to her relief, she found a thin, silvery scar that followed the same path the blade had taken in her dream.
It was also the same path Sephiroth's Masamune had taken eight years ago; beginning from the top of her left shoulder and through the valley of her breasts to finally rest at her bottom right hip. She relaxed slightly though her breathing still heavy as she pulled her white shirt back down and shakily grabbed the zipper of her black leather vest. Slowly zipping up the garment, she inwardly cringed at the loud sound it made in contrast to the near silent room. A thought suddenly occurred to her and she quickly snapped her eyes to the space beside her on the bed.
"Den-z...l... !" she breathed out, her throat searing in pain. Tifa coughed at the irritable sensation, her voice hoarse.
The boy was gone.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, still coughing into her hand. A fierce chill greeted her clammy skin as she stood up, and Tifa wiped the sweat from her forehead as she glanced around the room.
Empty.
Her throat flared up with a vengeance as she tried to call out, causing her to hack into her hand after she made nothing but a thin, pitiful squeak. She rubbed at her burning throat, eyes watering as she swallowed.
'My throat's on fire, as if... Have I been screaming in my sleep? Where is everyone?' Tifa took the opportunity to scan the room more thoroughly.
A wooden table was situated in the middle of the inn, its three chairs slightly pulled out as if inviting a trio of ghosts. A fire crackled heartily in the stone hearth to her left providing what would have been a warm glow, except the lack of company gave the light an eerie feel as it cast long, wavering shadows. Tifa glanced at the flames but quickly averted her eyes as a fresh image of her nightmare sent a terrible shiver up her spine. By taking extra note of her surroundings, she was suddenly aware of the solitary ticking of a grandfather clock that sat against the far wall. Oddly drawn to it, Tifa carefully stepped over the ornate rug in the middle of the room and made her way towards the timepiece.
Its case had seen better days, the wooden surface scratched with deep grooves. The glass window was no different, covered in patches of dust and grime so thick that Tifa struggled to see the time. The brass pendulum lazily swayed back and forth, mimicking the fighter's hand as she rubbed away the filth from the smooth casing.
The face read half past five.
'What? It can't be...' she thought, quickly glancing out the window into nothing but pitch-black. 'It's too early to be dark... What's going on?' Unease began to settle in as the mocking tick of the clock continued in the empty room. Tifa inspected the piece further to find that the pointers weren't actually moving, the hands frozen permanently in time.
She quickly stepped back from the grandfather clock, feeling ill as she critically studied the way the pendulum continued its swing in time to the ticking movement, yet the hands refused to budge. Swallowing, the fighter pulled at the hem of her white shirt to ensure her scar was covered before adjusting her leather vest and, fists clenched, hastily made her way towards the door. Finally stepping outside, she breathed more easily though her relief from the unsound inn did not last long.
The air hung thick with fog that had no doubt rolled in from the shore, obscuring most of her vision. However, fog or no, she could easily see that the village was empty. She tried calling out again, pushing past the resulting pain to attempt to make a sound. Her voice was as dead as the wind.
'Where is everyone?! … I have to find the others!' She swallowed against the fire in her throat and hurried on, her movements causing the fog to wisp around her like smoke. A thought crept into her mind, telling her that this was all a nightmare, but the notion only made Tifa quicken her pace. It didn't take her long to lose her bearings. She looked up in search of the mighty flag pole that had beckoned to their group on entering Junon to find that the huge and colourful carp streamers, or koinobori, now hung limp and lifeless; their majestic colours drained by the heavy grey. Further ahead, the fighter was struck with a strange yet brilliant orange glow that came from the upper levels.
'That light... it's coming from the sixth city section...' Tifa noticed how the fog seemed to blur the colour, creating an eerie distortion that bled into the surrounding air like water paint spilled on canvas. The sight caused a fresh shiver to rack her body, an ill tingling setting her feet into motion. She broke into a sprint towards the edge of the village, running blind in hope that the freight elevator was still there the last time she visited Junon years ago.
Locating and passing through the stone archway set into the side of Shinra's concrete giant, Tifa breathed a sigh of relief when she found the elevator she had been looking for, albeit it now rather rusty. She jabbed at the 'up' button with her fist, watching as the amber warning light began to rotate as the metal grated platform jerked into motion. She took a moment to lean against the metal railing, her breathing laboured as she fought to draw breath against the burn in her throat. She rubbed at her arms, her skin clammy and cold as she looked up with impatience.
'There has to be someone up here. There has to be. Even one.'
The elevator groaned before finally juddering to a halt, the amber light disappearing and once more leaving the fighter in complete solitude. Tifa hastily stepped off the freight elevator, wiping beads of sweat from her forehead as she studied the giant steel reinforced door that now lay in front of her. She began to search for a device to open it but there was nothing obvious. Tifa stepped forward, narrowing her eyes in the dim light as she scrutinised the area more thoroughly, when a heavy clunk caused her to jump and raise her fists in a flash. The huge door groaned before it began to pull apart, the black and yellow tape that ran across the middle finally beginning to separate.
Intense heat hit her like a rushing tidal wave.
Tifa choked. She raised her arms up to shield herself from the blast, turning her head away as she gasped for air. Screams and urgently barked orders met her ears amongst the roar of a sound... she would never forget for as long as she lived.
Fire.
She finally looked up, her eyes widening while her mouth fell open in horror. An inferno ravaged the city's apartments, great billowing plumes of smoke rising into the night. Huge torrents of water fell in arcs across the city level, the water feature come purifier containing most of the fumes, yet despite being so close it did nothing to smother the flames. The towering wall of fire had attracted what Tifa knew to be the entire inhabitants of Junon. Crowds of people watched in terror as the destruction continued; pointing, screaming, crying as they watched the insatiable appetite of the blaze devour everything in its path.
'This has to be a nightmare... This can't be... just like my own home... my...'
"WATERA!" A union of cries bellowed out and Tifa snapped her gaze towards what she now recognised as members of the WRO, the World Regenesis Organisation, casting magic in an attempt to combat the inferno. They were met with limited success as pillars of water burst forth from their Materia, but there wasn't nearly enough to douse the flames. Most of the troops were taxed, some kneeling in an attempt to conserve stamina while others were desperately trying to use their own Materia to, oddly, no effect. One of the soldiers even threw his signature red beret to the ground in frustration.
Tifa forced herself to move through the crowds, watching as WRO soldiers pushed people back to remain at a safe distance. Her eyes rapidly scoured the innumerable masses in hope that she would see someone familiar, the air of panic infectious as she began to search more frantically, hoping beyond hope that she would catch even a glimpse of Denzel.
Something cold suddenly grabbed the back of her vest and pulled.
Tifa cried out in fright, her throat searing in agony at the yelp forced from her lips. She dug her heels into the asphalt and spun around, swinging an adrenaline filled punch at her captor. It connected with a dull and painful sounding thud, and when she felt her ambusher flinch, Tifa blindly threw another. A resounding smack rang out as she found her fist caught in a wicked claw. Looking up, Tifa was ensnared in searing yellow eyes. She shrank back in terror, then suddenly with a blink, it was gone. Red eyes now stared back at her as Vincent quickly recoiled, his golden talon pulled within the confines of his cloak.
Tifa breathed hard, her mind reeling. She stared in shock, unsure at what exactly she had seen – or indeed, what she was seeing.
She swore that Vincent appeared dazed and she was unsure if he really was standing in front of her, though the sting of her knuckles told her otherwise. She shook her head, hoping to shake off the near surreal reality she found herself in. She was convinced that there was something wrong with her; that it was all in her head. It was the only explanation she could give. When she looked back up she found Vincent to be observing her carefully, not a trace of expression left on his face. Tifa was starting to believe that she had imagined that, too.
"Vi-c...nt..?" she tried out, hacking into her fist at the effort. The man in question straightened up, his brows furrowing ever so slightly.
"Are you well?" he asked urgently, about to step closer before reconsidering. She tried to speak, to apologise, but the burn in her throat was almost as hot as the surrounding fire. She swallowed with difficulty before straightening her hand and waving it across her throat a few times. Vincent immediately understood.
The sound of hurried footsteps approaching through the roar of noise made Vincent glance over his shoulder, and before Tifa had a chance to seek their maker, Denzel suddenly appeared next to the man looking breathless. He was about to speak when he looked up, his eyes widening at the sight of the fighter. Tifa's own features relaxed as she breathed out a hefty sigh of relief, quickly kneeling down and drawing the boy tightly into her arms. Vincent watched with slight surprise, the fighter's reaction unexpected, though he was secretly amused by Denzel's baffled expression. Tifa mouthed something to the boy as she carefully ran her hand through his messy hazel locks and Denzel cocked his head to the side in response.
"What's the matter? Can't you speak?" he asked, pulling back to look at Tifa. The fighter shook her head and she was surprised when Denzel looked up to Vincent with worry on his face, as if asking the crimson cloaked man what to do. Vincent tucked his chin further into his cowl, his crimson eyes glimmering from the surrounding blaze. Tifa's breath caught in her throat at the sight; his eyes were molten. Flashes of her nightmare struck with force and she forcefully shook her head to be rid of the images. Denzel gripped her arms tighter. Vincent suddenly spun on his heel and began to walk towards the human-formed barricades of the WRO.
"... !" Tifa tried to cry out as she jumped to her feet but her throat no longer occupied any voice. She didn't want to be left alone again.
"H-hey!" Thankfully, Denzel was able to speak for her. "Where are you going?" The boy was about to follow Vincent, but the man's curt voice stopped him dead in his tracks.
"Stay." Vincent continued to walk.
"Why? I'm going with you!" Denzel's challenging tone finally caught the gunslinger's attention and Vincent stopped to glance behind his shoulder just as he was about to step into the crowd. He carefully studied the boy alongside the rather angry expression on his face. Tifa held her breath, knowing full well Denzel's sore spot for being left behind. She now knew it was something that they both shared. A few taut moments passed before Vincent spoke.
"... I need you to stay here and look after Tifa for me." On hearing this, Denzel's anger vanished with a stunned blink. Recovering, he quickly nodded with a hint of a smile. Vincent nodded back before turning his gaze to Tifa. "Stay here. I will find you again." Tifa could only nod with dumb shock. Then with a flourish of his crimson cape, Vincent disappeared into the crowd and was gone. She could only stare, not entirely sure of the exchange she had just witnessed between the orphan and the gunslinger.
"Don't worry," Denzel's confident tone brought her to attention, "I'll look after you." Tifa blinked before quirking a smile and lightly ruffling the boy's hair much to his chagrin.
Unbeknownst to both Tifa and Denzel, once Vincent was out of sight he took a moment to examine his gauntlet. The wicked appendage gleamed in the surrounding inferno, light dancing across the burnished gold as the flames continued their hellish twist. His brow knitted as he dwelled on recent events, and doubly so when a dull pain throbbed in his right jaw. He discreetly raised his hand to rub at the bone. He could already feel a bruise forming where Tifa had struck him. He tensed as a putrid voice shattered his thoughts, an injection of vitriol accompanied by a chorus of writhing leeches.
'SHE'S STRONGER THAN SHE LOOKS. THOUGH WHAT ABOUT THE INSIDE? SHALL WE FIND OUT?'
Vincent reinforced his mental barriers and hurried his pace while Chaos' laughter resounded in his skull. Even the gunslinger knew it was useless. Instead, he focused on his intended goal and was soon consumed within the frightened crowd of Junon.
Once Vincent had left, Tifa watched the WRO members continue their attempt in fighting the blaze while Denzel exuded an air of duty as he remained by her side. She scanned the crowd in hopes of seeing any of the others, but there were simply too many people. She looked to Denzel and tried to voice her question but the fire in her throat smothered all sound. The boy noticed that she was trying to speak and looked up in confusion, watching Tifa carefully as she swept her arm across the crowd before shrugging her shoulders.
"Errm... Oh!" Denzel finally understood. "Everyone's over there somewhere." He pointed towards the far left of the strip where a group of WRO trucks were stationed. "Barret said he was going to call Reeve about the fire, but Cait Sith said he already knew. I don't know what he meant, but then all these soldiers came and started fighting the fire."
'So that's how the WRO got here so quickly,' Tifa thought. 'Crafty old Cait Sith. I should have known.' Even after three years, no one quite knew how Reeve controlled the cat puppet or how they remained in constant contact. Tifa nodded, thankful for the information. Another curious thought popped into her head and she looked at Denzel questioningly before pointing to him, then over to the left side of the strip. Denzel raised a brow as uncertainty passed over his face.
"Err... why am I here? And not there? … Right?" Tifa couldn't help but smile as she nodded, impressed that the boy was following. Denzel scuffed his sneaker on the asphalt and Tifa noticed that once again, like usual, his right shoelace was undone. "I followed Vincent when he left. It's just that... I don't actually know how to get back." Denzel didn't need to interpret the way Tifa placed her hands of her hips, the boy immediately understood. The fighter kneeled down and began to tie his right shoelace while the orphan chose to look away with a hint of embarrassment. Just as she finished, Vincent finally returned from amidst the flock of civilians. Denzel quickly shuffled away from Tifa's ministrations, a tinge of red to his cheeks as the man approached. The martial artist rose to greet the gunslinger.
"Here," Vincent said, not wasting any time as he reached inside the folds of his cloak and pulled out a bottle of crystal blue. "Drink." He handed the item to Tifa, and upon closer inspection the fighter found it to be a Potion. She nodded her thanks, a small smile gracing her lips when she realised Vincent had most likely left to bring the medicine to her. She unscrewed the glass stopper and gratefully slaked her thirst. The cool liquid was bliss on her throat and she chugged the entire bottle down with abandon.
"Denzel." The boy looked up to the gunslinger with great attention, anticipating the man's next words. "... Good job." The boy broke out into a brilliant grin while Vincent tucked his chin into his cowl, not quite a nod but taken as one all the same. Tifa couldn't help but smile herself at the sight. She wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb as she swallowed the last few drops, the fire in her throat easier to manage now. After handing the empty bottle back to Vincent, she decided to try and speak.
"Thank y-..." Denzel looked up to her in surprise while Vincent blinked before nodding. He was about to speak but a woman's scream rose above the surrounding roar.
"No! My baby! My baby's still in there! You can't!" The trio snapped their gaze towards the barricades to find a WRO member wrestling with a poor, distressed woman.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, it's too dangerous! We need to get the fire under control first!" She struggled and clawed in the soldier's grasp but the man kept a strong hold, pulling her away from the burning apartment she was desperately trying to reach with outstretched arms. The sight caused horrible memories to assault Tifa and a strong emotion to surge through every fibre of her being.
Before she even knew what she was doing, Tifa was sprinting through the throng of people and towards the inferno, ignoring the cries of Vincent and Denzel at her back. A chorus of shocked gasps erupted from the crowd as she swiftly ran towards the line of soldiers, and to the astonishment of all, dropped into a slide and passed straight under their legs. Some were quicker to react, but Tifa was quicker still, avoiding all of their attempts to catch her as she simply ran. One of the WRO members even lunged at her but only ended up losing his standard-issue red beanie as a result. Chaos erupted at her back; a myriad of people cheering her on and others shouting in utter bafflement while military orders were barked out in an attempt to regain control.
She fled towards the alleyway next to the apartment building, the flames reaching for her through the shattered ground floor windows. Smoke poured out of the complex and drifted up on the sweltering night air. There was little room to breathe, little room for error. Tifa had to be quick. She rounded the corner to enter through the rear and was faced with a solid oak door. She took a few steps back and steeled herself, the leather of her gloves crunching as she balled her fists with ardour.
'I won't let anyone else lose their family to fire. Not like...' She dug her left heel into the concrete.
'...ME!' On that last note Tifa swiftly raised her right leg and with one powerful kick, slammed her foot into the door, knocking it clean off its hinges. A surge of flames rose up from the resulting force, the fresh burst of oxygen enticing the fire, and Tifa quickly raised her arms to shield herself from the blast. She gritted her teeth as she felt her skin already being singed, the heat nothing but intense. The smoke and hot air caught the back of her throat and Tifa hacked as she attempted to catch her breath. She had to move. She quickly yet carefully stepped over broken glass and moved into the burning apartment, straining to hear the sound of anyone inside over the mocking cackle and crackle of the blaze. She attempted to cry out while remaining half crouched to avoid the smoke, but once more found herself silenced by her raging throat.
A deep, moaning creak suddenly met her ears and Tifa just barely managed to jump back before a huge beam of wood came crashing down, the mighty timber riddled with glowing embers now blocking her path. She gave a hoarse cough as the flames rose higher, her throat searing in agony. Just as swift as the beam fell, a shrill wail broke out above her. Tifa snapped her gaze towards it, instantly recognising the sound of a frightened child. A surge of emotion once more pumped through her, igniting a fire of her own; one that resided in her heart. Tifa clenched her fists and pushed past her pain, overcoming her limit.
The fighter drew back before throwing herself around in a circle and sweeping out her leg like a raging wave, smashing half the wood with her Waterkick, before drawing back a fist and punching clean through the splintered remains. As the beam crashed to the ground, Tifa hopped over it and rushed up the stairs towards the second floor.
She was working on nothing but adrenaline now.
The smoke assailed her as she ascended, her eyes now burning with irritation alongside her throat. She was finding it harder to breathe. An idea quickly came to mind and she thrust her hand into her utility pocket, pulling out the torn end of her duster. She quickly raised it to her mouth in hopes it would block most of the smoke as she continued. Parts of the wall and floor peeled with the heat and Tifa could feel the skin on her forearms beginning to scorch as she swiftly searched the rooms, the cry of the child her only beacon in the suffocating smother.
She finally located the source of the sound when she entered the far left room, confirmed by the scattered toys and clothes that were yet untouched by the patches of fire. Tifa hacked into her fist as she approached the source of the wail; inside a walnut wardrobe. She carefully opened the door, unwilling to scare its occupant while she lowered herself down to peer inside.
A small boy was curled up in the corner, and Tifa deduced that he was no more than three years old. His eyes were wide and tearful as Tifa smiled at him and tried to speak, but began to cough through the billowing smoke. Wiping the tears from her eyes as best she could with her makeshift mask, she pocketed the torn material before raising both hands so the boy could see and beckoned to him. This certainly seemed to do the trick as the child almost jumped into her arms, clutching tightly around her neck as she lifted him up securely to rest against her chest. She quickly spun on her heel to leave but the little boy desperately reached over her shoulder with outstretched arms.
"Koopy! Koopy!" Tifa gave the boy a confused look before turning to see what he was reaching for.
A lone Moogle toy sat propped against the blackened wall, its pom-pom a little dirty but otherwise it was relatively untouched, its glossy button eyes still polished to a shine. The fighter pointed to the toy and mouthed to the boy in silent question. The child simply intensified his grabbing motion, but it was the only answer Tifa needed. She double backed to the stuffed plush, quickly retrieving and handing 'Koopy' to the small boy who cuddled in to it tightly. Child in tow, she quickly left the room to find that the whole building was simply torrid. Her skin felt scorched and her energy was draining fast, her vision beginning to swim as she struggled for air.
The landing she stood on suddenly began to crack and Tifa barely had time to react as it gave way underneath her. She held on tightly to the boy as she reacted on reflex, leaping just as the floor opened up to reveal a gaping maw of fire beneath her.
In only a few seconds, Tifa was suddenly mid-air over a pit of flames.
She reached out desperately in panic, just catching the remaining edge of the floor with her right hand, the rest of her hanging over the huge, burning fire. She choked in the rising smoke, using all of her strength to push the child onto the landing and to safety. It was now that Tifa sorely wished that all of this really was a dream, but the heat on her skin was far too real. She could feel her strength begin to wane and her grip beginning to loosen... but the feeling of small hands gripping her arm forced her to pull energy from a reserve she never knew she had.
Scrabbling for purchase, Tifa threw her left arm up to grab the edge and despite the screaming protests of her arms, slowly hoisted herself up while the boy gave small tugs and cries of encouragement. Back on the safety of the landing, Tifa rolled over onto her back, struggling to breathe. The small child reached over to where he dropped his toy and clutched Koopy closely to his chest, his eyes wide with fright. Tifa tried to smile at him, but her throat flared up with a vengeance and she hacked so hard that she could taste blood in the back of her mouth. The boy pulled at her clothes with urgency and Tifa tried to comply, but like a poison, the smoke had sapped most of her strength. She struggled to sit up, her eye suddenly catching the open window to the far right.
She didn't know if she was going to make it... but she'd come too far to give up now.
Outside, the flames of the inferno reached ever higher as a strange quiet settled over the huge gathering of people. The only sound that of the blaze and the passing rumours and conjecture from the crowd. Close to the barricades stood Vincent alongside Denzel, now joined by Barret, Marlene, Red XIII and Cait Sith, all who had been briefed on the situation. The air was uneasy as they waited, their eyes all focused on the building they had last seen or heard their friend enter. The WRO continued to fight the fire with Materia, (and prevent anyone else from interfering much to the party's, and especially Barret's, annoyance,) but it was still a long struggle yet.
Vincent was growing very impatient. The talons of his claw twitched as a terrible, mocking voice sundered his thoughts with twisted glee, the words alone causing Vincent to tense rather than the feeling similar to needles being injected into the skin.
'AND SO YOU HAVE LET ANOTHER WOMAN WALK TO HER DEATH.'
Vincent threw up his mental barriers against the hellish spawn, but its words lingered for far longer than he would have liked. Unable to remain idle for a moment longer, he quickly began to stride towards the barricades.
"THERE SHE IS!" The shout of a WRO member caused the crowd to burst into excited chatter but when Tifa finally emerged through the smoke, all black-faced with soot and cradling the small boy who in turn cradled his Moogle toy, the civilians erupted into cheer and applause.
Vincent let out the breath he didn't even know he was holding.
The frantic mother they had seen earlier was finally reunited with her son, the boy quickly releasing his grip around Tifa's neck as his parent reached out to cradle him, tearfully singing her praise as the boy cried heartily into his mother's shoulder. While the pair were being checked over by a soldier, Tifa herself was ushered towards one of the WRO trucks before any of their party were able to say otherwise. Vincent, who was closest, followed quickly and he was secretly taken aback with how swiftly the medics in the vehicle had responded.
"I've already started the oxygen therapy, can you check her carboxyhaemoglobin levels?" One asked as he situated an oxygen mask around Tifa's nose and mouth.
"Just gathering the needles, how about symptoms of smoke inhalation?" The member in the truck began taking out what he needed for a blood sample and Vincent quickly looked away at the sight of the syringe. Too many memories. Not now.
"Still checking, but it's looking minor surprisingly. She must have kept close to the floor." The medic closest to Tifa began administering eye drops just as a group of soldiers started to form another human made barricade to stop the advancing crowd. Vincent swiftly avoided the troops but Barret and the party did not have such luck, just reaching the truck a few seconds too late. As the gun-armed man began to boom at the organisation members to let them past, Vincent observed the medics as they went about preparing Tifa's arm to draw blood.
One cleared the soot from her skin with an antiseptic wipe while the other began to tie a tourniquet around her arm to better show her veins through the dirt. As they brushed aside her garments to accommodate the band, Vincent caught sight of a thin, silvery line just peeking over her white shirt and creeping up her left shoulder. Suddenly Tifa's hand obscured his view and he snapped his eyes up to find the fighter shifting uncomfortably, almost physically recoiling from his gaze. She quickly pulled her black vest back in to place, her shirt following suit while Vincent turned away as the medics began their blood test.
'… That scar... Only a grave wound could leave something of that magnitude.' The gunslinger crossed his arms, and was about to brood on his unintentional discovery, but he was interrupted by a stampede of footsteps. Glancing over he found Barret and Red XIII dashing towards the fighter, Marlene, Denzel and Cait Sith at their heels. Tifa stretched her arms out towards the children as they almost jumped on her, gracing them both with a huge smile through her oxygen mask. Everyone spoke at once.
"Tifa!" - "Are you okay?!" - "I'm glad you are well!" - "What the HELL were ya thinkin'?!" - "Ye alright, lassie?!"
The fighter smiled, nodding her assurance to them all as they fussed over her. Vincent observed the odd reunion of sorts and the relief abundant throughout. Even the medics joined in, informing them all of her condition and praising her on her bravery. Barret, however, still seemed to be particularly on edge. The gun-armed man tapped his giant boot down on the concrete, a exasperated expression plastered on his face.
Unbeknownst to the others, Barret had only one particular thought in mind as he swept a hand over his black, cornrow styled hair.
'Marlene first, and now Tif'? Tha's it. I need a holiday.'
