Space was more beautiful than Summer ever dreamed it would be. It was also more lonely than she'd ever wanted it to be.

The Blackjack cruised through a thin asteroid field. Flying the ship through it was borderline unconscious work, but Summer couldn't risk the autopilot crashing them into one of the larger asteroids.

Still, Summer dove towards one of the massive, pock-marked rocks that drifted through the field. She pulled up gently and rode over its surface, noting the craters and crevasses.

It wasn't sufficient to distract her from her thoughts.

Her two week survey voyage into the Grimmlands to survey Salem's castle and its defenses had been waylaid and become, so far, a two-month homebound odyssey. When she'd left, her daughter Yang had just started school, and Ruby was starting to learn about letters.

Summer worried about what she wouldn't see. She already knew she wouldn't see Ruby's fourth birthday, and she was in danger of missing a lot more. Her stomach roiled at the prospect.

The ship hummed with the faint sound of the engines and other systems.

Summer's stomach roiled again. This time, it was just hunger.

She glanced down at the radar. The ship had cleared the asteroid belt; Summer engaged the auto-pilot and climbed down into the lounge. She absentmindedly flipped on the stereo on her way to the galley. It was another remnant of Setzer's heavy modifications: a substantial sound system with an eclectic collection of digitized music. Summer considered it most useful to distract from the silence and solitude of space. Today, it was pumping out jazz.

The galley wasn't stocked with much — hell, the galley wasn't equipped with much. There was a pair of electric burners, a small oven, a sink, and a fridge with a freezer. Most of them were tiny compared to the kitchen in her first apartment in Vale, much less her home in Patch. Most of her food onboard (in terms of volume) was canned or mixes — pasta dishes out of a box, cans of soup and the like. In addition, there was a week's worth of shelf-stable ration bars, in case of an emergency landing. (Well, a week's worth for a full contingent of four crew members, which meant about a month for Summer.)

But Aerith and Jessie had surprised Summer with a few containers of fresh meals, enough to last a week if she ate one per day. Summer popped one of them out of the fridge and turned on the oven. She slid in the glassware and set the timer.

She also pulled out a metal tumbler from the cabinet containing the dishes and poured herself a drink from the pitcher of synthetic milk from the fridge. It was a faint blue, but it tasted just like milk and according to Cid it had a blend of vitamins and minerals formulated for space travel.

The timer dinged after she took a few sips of milk and she took out her meal before carefully climbing up into the cockpit, holding both the food and the drink with one arm while the second supported her up the ladder.

She settled down in the pilot's seat and began to eat.

One of the lights on a panel began to flash; Summer concentrated on it as she ate. It was the ship's main navigational computer, informing her of a nearby world. A readout appeared on a nearby screen. "Olympus," Summer read aloud, her mouth still half-full. "Home of the famous Olympus Coliseum." She looked out at the tan world shimmering in the distance. "Well, if it's anything like the Vytal Tournament, it'll be entertaining."

She fired the engines and set an approach vector.

The ship was quickly caught by Olympus's gravity. Summer reduced speed on the ship's primary engines and engaged the antigravity drive, which began working against the world's gravity well. She cruised over clearly cultivated fields and untamed forest.

Summer landed the Blackjack in an empty field well outside of a large city of white and tan buildings. She gently washed the dishes from her meal and prepared to set out.

The air was crisp and temperate, as she discovered when the cargo-loading door slid open.

After a couple days of recycled air on the Blackjack and the odd air of Traverse Town — to say nothing of the stifling air in the Dark Place — Summer was glad to smell air that reminded her of home. She basked in it, in the sunlight she hadn't felt for who-knows-how-long. Her fingertips brushed the tops of the wild grain. She inhaled deeply through her nostrils. It was humid and a gentle breeze flowed.

Summer felt tears running down her cheeks. It wasn't home, not by a long shot. But it was one step closer. She stood there a moment, with the Blackjack at her back and the wind ruffling her hair and the smell of plantlife, and for that moment everything was right in her world.

She exhaled deeply and opened her eyes — still blurry from the crying. She did her best to wipe it all away with her fingers and the top of her vest. Satisfied, she began to get her bearings.

In the distance, a mountain towered — Mount Olympus, the navicomputer had said.

The city of Thebes, where the Olympus Coliseum was, was a couple hours trek. Summer tightened the strap of her bag and began her walk.

A few hours later, Summer wandered into Thebes. The city was bustling and loud; Summer worried for the day someone here would figure out how to invent the air horn. Her manner of dress caught a fair few stares as she walked through the crowds, but she strode confidently through the streets toward the coliseum on the edge of town.

A grand bronze statue near the center of town drew her eye. The figure was muscular and posing.

The streets were wide on her way to the coliseum and eventually she entered the grand courtyard.

The Coliseum was an impressive edifice, with grand Grecian columns. Beside the entrance were a pair of gigantic statues depicting two warriors, swords crossed in battle. The entrance was a pair of double doors with massive lightning bolts carved into them. Summer walked through them; the foyer she entered was warmly lit with small fires in metal bases. The walls were lined with plaques and trophies.

Summer recognized the Coliseum's operator as a satyr, said to either be a mythological being or a kind of Faunus that had long since gone extinct — seeing one, Summer was inclined to go with the former, for he was shorter than Summer would have expected, even factoring in his goat legs. He was seated on a large stone block, polishing a large trophy.

She cleared her throat. "Yo."

The satyr looked up sharply. He was balding, and his voice was gravelier than Summer expected. "Whoa there, hot legs," he said, setting aside his trophy and slicking back what little hair he had. "I'm Phil. What brings a dame like you to my neck of the woods?"

"The Games," Summer said. "Sign outside said preliminaries are tomorrow."

"Oh," Phil said flatly. "Well, are you a certified hero?"

"Sure am." Summer reached into the inner pocket of her vest and pulled out her wallet. She flipped it open and retrieved a card and handed it to Phil.

"Eh? What's this?" Phil asked, holding it close and squinting. "A...Huntsman License? Not really what I was lookin' for, but good enough for me." He pulled out a paper scroll and began jotting things down. "Got your own weapons or are ya rentin'?"

"My own," Summer said, turning slightly so Phil could see Halbmond. She patted its hilt to emphasize it.

"I see," Phil said. He handed the scroll and his ink-dipped brush to Summer. There was a list of names running down it. "Sign in at the bottom."

"Got it," Summer said, glancing up and down the list before signing it.

Phil's tone took on the cadence of a list he'd often repeated. "Do you have your own lodging?"

"Yes, but it's outside of town," Summer said. "If you have lodging closer, I wouldn't be opposed."

"Noted. Do you have any other necessary accommodations, et cetera, et cetera?"

"Nope."

"Then let me show ya to your room, sweetheart."

Phil led Summer down a series of corridors, and eventually they came to one which had evenly spaced doors with room numbers.

"I'm gonna warn ya," Phil said. "The prelims are gonna be brutal. Blame Hades."

"Hades?" Summer asked.

Phil looked back at Summer with a skeptical expression. "You ain't from around here, are ya? Hades is bad news. He's one of the Gods, but unlike Zeus and his crew, Hades lives down in the Underworld and he's got one heck of a chip on his shoulder about it. Few years back he unleashed the Titans on Mount Olympus, but Hercules stopped 'em and became a true hero."

"Sounds like quite the story," Summer said. "So I'm guessing that Hades has a grudge and is loading the roster with flunkies to beat Hercules?"

"Bingo," Phil said. "If Hades ever offers ya anything, I got three words ya can say: No deal. Got it? Hades likes deals, and he's clever enough to exploit any loophole he sees."

"What does Hades look like, out of curiosity?"

"He's tall, black robe, and his head is on fire. Can't miss him."

"Anything else I should know?"

"Yeah. Don't die. Here's your room." Phil opened the door and Summer stepped inside.

She looked back at the satyr. "See you in…?"

"First match is tomorrow morning, bright and early," Phil said.

The furnishments inside her room were sparse but workable: a bed, a small dresser, and a pair of pots. Summer absently opened the drawers to find a couple of whetstones, along with a pair of togas.

Summer plucked out one of the whetstones and sat on the bed. She unfastened her gun belt and laid it across the bed beside her. With her left hand she pulled Halbmond out of its holster, opened the blade, and began sharpening it.

It was a mindless, repetitive motion; performing the act reminded her of forging the blade. And remembering forging the blade made her think about Raven.

Raven Branwen had, in actuality, designed Summer's sword — at least, the mechanism. Before she'd started at Beacon, Summer had forged her own gunblade: a very primitive one with a lever action and a blade welded to the bottom of the barrel.

Raven, who'd immediately gained an aptitude for designing weapons using modern mechanical-shift technology, had demanded that Summer stop using such a simple weapon when even Qrow's new scythe could fold up and retract. Summer had mockingly suggested that Raven design a new sword for her.

Summer lifted Halbmond's blade up to examine it. Satisfied, she flipped it over and began working on the other side.

Three days later, Raven presented Summer with a set of schematics. There were no compromises in its design, and they'd revised it together before forging it.

Summer knew, in that moment with the pair of them wearing welding goggles as they plunged the ripping hot and freshly forged blade into water, that the two of them had become truer friends than Summer had ever known before. Summer would always unconditionally trust Raven Branwen.

Thinking of Raven dredged up other, worse memories that Summer began forcing back down. Now wasn't the time to be thinking about that. If she made it back home, she would talk to Raven.

Summer stilled her quickening breath. She stood, moved over to the dresser, and pulled out the cleaning kit from her bag. Cleaning her guns might help as a distraction — they were more involved, at least.

It was bright and early the next morning. Summer was standing in the ready room, staring out into the coliseum itself.

The arena was large. On one end was the entrance to the ready room, on the other was a massive gate whose interior was darkened. The center of the arena was stonework and all around it was packed dirt. To her left and right were massive stands packed with cheering fans.

Summer put her hands on her hips. "You're kidding me, right?"

Phil snorted. "I ain't. That's your first opponent."

Summer glared out the ready room and over the dirt of the arena at the three Shadow-type Heartless loitering in the sunlight. She huffed and took in a deep breath before emerging. Modest cheering greeted her as she strode across the arena. She waved back to the crowd, a long-standing habit from her combat tournament days.

"I am so, so sorry for what I'm about to do to you," Summer said. She formally bowed before drawing Halbmond.

One of the Heartless tilted its head at her.

Summer huffed in the ready room. The first few rounds had been easy enough, but it'd ramped up. Without her Aura to tank hits, Summer wasn't certain that she'd have been able to make it this far.

"You're doing great, kid," Phil whispered. He handed her a small jug of water, and she gratefully accepted it and guzzled it down, using some of the water to clean her face of sweat. "I owe you for this. I gotta warn you, though, your next match…not sure who this guy is, but he's been cleaning up."

Summer looked up. "Who is he?"

"Guy named Cloud. Watch yourself, kid. You're up in five."

Summer drank deeply of the water for the next few minutes before her name was called. She rechecked her magazines and strode out into the harsh sun of the arena.

The swordsman standing opposite Summer was well-muscled but lithe. He had dressed dramatically in a dark blue sweater without sleeves, adorned with leather belts and an iron pauldron, all wrapped up in a red cloak. His blonde hair was done up in spikes.

But his weapon was really what caught Summer's eye. The sword he was carrying was massive, nearly as tall as the man, and the shape vaguely reminded Summer of a comically oversized chef's knife. The whole blade was, bizarrely, wrapped in slightly dirty bandages, which would have prevented it from cutting properly, were the sword not so large that its primary lethality was its sheer weight.

"So," Summer said loudly, lazily striding around the edge of the arena. "Before we get started...what's with the sword?"

Cloud didn't respond.

"...the silent type, huh?"

"Just not interested," Cloud shot back.

"Well then," Summer said. She smiled softly and looked around. "I suppose we should give 'em a show, huh?"

Cloud smirked. "Sure. Let's."

He dashed forward with an overhead blow. Summer barely leapt backwards out of the way. "You're quicker than you look," Summer grunted, diverting his follow-up blow with Halbmond's blade.

Cloud's response was to bring his sword around with a horizontal slice that Summer neatly ducked under.

His sword was longer than hers, but even as quick as he was, it still took more time to bring around. But from the look of his swings, one well placed strike could drop her Aura to critical levels. Two might break it. Three might kill her.

She engaged her Semblance. Faster and more intense, she slipped through his defenses to slice his left arm. He winced and blocked her next thrust with the flat of his blade.

Cloud knocked her backwards with his shoulder and thrusted his sword forward with blinding speed. Summer narrowly dodged, diving away into a roll. She flicked the switch on Halbmond's hilt and it folded up into rifle form as she came out of the roll. She spun around and fired wildly.

The bullets bounced off the flat of Cloud's sword, which he'd brought up as a shield. He slowly stepped to the side, Summer matching his strides. Silently, she drew a magazine of high-pressure rounds off of her belt and slapped it into Halbmond.

Cloud whirled his blade around and slammed it on the ground, sending three waves of energy out along the ground. One of them clipped Summer, sending her backwards.

She rolled in the dust and immediately sprung up as Cloud approached. She fired at the ground, sending her backwards out of his range. Two more high pressure rounds to propel her along and she'd flanked him with a leaping kick to his side. Knocked off balance, he was just as susceptible to the pair of roundhouse kicks she delivered immediately afterwards.

He stumbled, but when he recovered, his stance had shifted lower, more defensive.

Summer chided herself as the counterattack slammed into her, her Aura tearing open for an instant and reknitting itself as she was pushed backwards. He held steady as she landed, a cloud of dust billowing behind her as she landed in a crouch.

There was cheering from the stands.

Her off hand went to her revolver, quickly drew Thorn from its holster as Cloud cautiously approached.

Cloud leapt at her with a massive overhead blow which she caught with Halbmond, whirling herself around the momentum and planting two of Thorn's bullets in his thigh. He winced and stumbled away.

"Now you're in for it," Cloud grumbled.

Summer barely had time to react.

Cloud charged forward, hooking the edge of his blade under her left arm. His legs compressed and shot him upwards like a cannon. Summer could feel her Aura stretching thin before it broke completely at the top of the jump.

Summer tumbled to the ground. Cloud landed smoothly, breathing heavily.

"Yield," she declared weakly. "Yield."

Cloud huffed, still out of breath. He propped himself up with his sword. "You're pretty good."

"Pretty...good. You too." She grinned at him. "Wanna tell me about your sword now?"

"Still not interested," he said.

When Summer returned to the ready room, Phil gave her another jug of water and instructions on a nice shady place to watch the rest of the games, if she wanted, or if she wanted to return to her room she was free to.

Summer sat in the ready room for the length of a match drinking more water before heading up to the box reserved for gladiators in the shaded upper section. It was relatively empty. A few other warriors had chosen to watch the remaining matches, but Summer sat alone.

Down in the arena, Cloud emerged into the bright sun.

Across from him was Sora, the keyblade wielder that Summer had briefly encountered in Traverse Town mere days ago. The duck and dog — Donald and Goofy, Summer reminded herself — were flanking him.

Summer leaned forward. The Keyblade was by no means a practical weapon. It was somewhere around a meter long, with a silver shaft and no visible cutting edge, aside from the large blunt teeth on the opposite side. Sora held it more like a bat than a sword, with a low stance and — if Summer had to guess — heavy swings.

But Leon had said that the Keyblade was a fearsome weapon — one the Heartless feared on instinct. So why, Summer wondered, was it in the hands of a child?

The match began.

From a distance, Summer was able to appreciate the finer points of Cloud's swordsmanship. He was a far more patient and defensive fighter than his opponent, almost certainly a product of their relative experience. With charging thrusts, he brushed Goofy's offensive aside, and he had the situational awareness to mitigate or deny Donald's spell attacks.

And his swordplay outclassed the untrained Sora. For every three hits Sora dealt, Cloud struck a blow of equal damage.

It was little surprise, then, that the match ended with Cloud holding the tip of his sword at a prone Sora, the Keyblade buried inches deep in the stonework, and both of Sora's companions recovering from equally devastating blows.

The gate at the far end of the arena slid open gently, so gentle that Summer almost missed it.

A massive hound leapt from the shadows of the gate to stand in the sun. Its dark fur bristled. It stood as tall as three, maybe even four men, and it was as wide as it was tall. Most disconcertingly, it had three discrete heads, all of which were snapping and growling.

Cloud had barely whirled around; a massive paw swept through the air and smacked him straight into a wall, forming a small crater in the stonework. His sword, thrown by the impact, clattered uselessly to the ground.

"It's Cerberus! Run!" Phil shouted.

Sora scrambled away into the safety of the ready room, his companions following shortly behind.

The stands erupted into chaos. Most people, sensibly, began running for the exit. Through the pandemonium Summer spied Cerberus approaching Cloud, still in the impact crater.

Summer stepped onto the bench in front of her and began running down the stands, pushing past people until she reached the front. Quickly, she confirmed that her weapons were loaded before leaping onto the sand of the coliseum's central arena. She planted two fingers in her mouth and whistled as loud as she could.

One by one, Cerberus's heads turned around towards Summer — two over the left shoulder and one over the right. It snarled, a deep sound that shook Summer's bones.

"Well," Summer said to herself with the tone of a nervous laugh, "I got its attention." Her expression steeled. She stepped forward and raised her sword into a defensive position. Smirking, she called out: "Come and get it!"

Cerberus charged, lunging for Summer with its center head. Summer dove out of the way and then propelled herself to the side with a blast from Halbmond as one of the side-heads snapped at her. She shifted the rifle into sword form and slashed at the head. The beast recoiled.

Summer got up and retreated parallel to the arena's wall, firing a line of bullets up Cerberus's leg and side. The hound leapt for her and she narrowly ran underneath the arc of its pounce, slicing one of its ankles as she evaded. Cerberus's heads howled in harmony and he kneeled.

Summer stowed Halbmond and leapt, grabbing the fur of Cerberus's haunch. She climbed hand-over-hand as the beast whirled around, trying to snap at her with one of its mouths. She pressed herself against the fur and continued to climb until she was atop it.

Cerberus stumbled suddenly. Summer peered out over the hound's shoulder to see Cloud Strife attacking Cerberus with his oversized sword.

"What are you doing?" Summer yelled. "Run!"

"What are you doing?" Cloud shot back.

"This is kinda my job!" Summer said. She drew Halbmond and stabbed it into one of Cerberus's necks. Cerberus howled and snarled all at once, one of its heads leaning over and snapping at Summer. A massive tooth ripped open Summer's arm. Off balance, Summer tumbled off the shoulder, her hand in a deathgrip on Halbmond, buried deep in the neck. With her other hand, she pulled out Thorn.

She wedged her foot against the flesh beside Halbmond's blade. She aimed Thorn's dual barrels at the side of Cerberus's head, wrapped her finger around the second trigger, and kicked off as she fired.

The shotgun blast stunned Cerberus's head and the beast stumbled to the side. Halbmond pulled free and Summer flipped end over end in the air before landing on the sandy floor of the arena.

Cloud leapt back to stand beside her, sword held defensively as Cerberus straightened itself.

"Okay," Summer said. "What's the plan?"

"Take the rear legs. Stagger it," Cloud said. "Then we go for the kill."

Summer nodded, rushing in underneath Cloud's cover with her Semblance engaged. She dashed underneath Cerberus's belly and sliced open Cerberus's left ankle. It stumbled, and Cloud smacked the dull side of his sword against one of the front legs. Summer heard the sickening crunch of bones cracking and the massive hound keeled.

"Now," Cloud yelled, bringing his sword around for a massive two-handed skullcracker on Cerberus's right head.

Summer's instinct flared to attention and she shouted, "Wait!"

The head Cloud was about to attack reared back and vomited thick black ichor on the swordsman. Cloud stumbled back and fell over unconscious as Cerberus rose back to its full height.

As it stood, Summer leapt back onto its haunches and scrambled up its back. The entire beast reared back and Summer held on for dear life as Cerberus pounced on Cloud. The entire weight of the beast stopped suddenly and violently.

Summer craned her neck to see what had happened.

Cerberus's entire weight was being borne by a well-muscled man in a cuirass and a blue cape. Summer recognized him immediately as the statue at the center of Thebes — rather, the man the statue had been based on.

"You must be Hercules," Summer said.

"Uh, yeah," Hercules said. "Sorry, you are?"

"Summer Rose," she ground out, resisting Cerberus's attempts to shake her off. "Professional Huntress."

"Nice work here, but I think I've got it," Hercules said confidently. His foot brushed against the prone Cloud.

"Not if we wanna get him out of here," Summer said, stabbing down with Halbmond. Cerberus writhed as she continued her stabbing over and over.

Hercules glanced between the hilt of his sheathed sword and the swordsman at his feet. "You're right." He shoved Cerberus backwards, spun and scooped Cloud up and over his shoulder.

Unfortunately, this put Cerberus between him and the entrance to the ready room.

Cerberus bucked Summer off and she slid between two of Cerberus's necks, rolling to a stop beside Hercules. Almost on instinct, she had Halbmond back in rifle form pointed at Cerberus as she scrambled backwards and up into a stand behind Hercules.

Cerberus loomed over the pair of them. They began to back slowly towards the wall.

Suddenly, Cerberus's heads whirled around.

Sora was back, still flanked by Donald and Goofy. Cerberus spun around slowly and growled at him.

Sora wound up and threw the Keyblade as hard as he could. It beaned Cerberus on the head and the hound stumbled backwards. Summer and Hercules sidestepped the hound as it slammed into the wall, knocked out.

"Whoa!" Sora yelled.

Summer and Hercules wandered around Cerberus over to where the trio were.

"Oh! Lady, you're bleeding," Sora said.

Summer sheathed Halbmond and started putting pressure on her wound. "I know."

Donald scoffed. "Sora! You haven't been practicing your white magic!" He raised his staff and Summer was enveloped in green light, her wound sealing shut.

"That was intensely disturbing to feel happen, but thank you," Summer said. "Sora, right?"

"Yeah?"

Summer fished a handkerchief out of her bag and wiped her hand clean of blood before offering it to Sora. "Not sure if you remember me. I'm Summer. Nice to meet you all."

Sora grinned. "Nice to meet you too."

Hercules coughed into his hand. "Sorry, I gotta get this guy to a doctor," he said awkwardly.

"Yeah, I'm gonna go, uh, take a nap," Summer said, hunching over. "A double header takes a lot out of ya."

By the time Summer woke up it was nearly sundown. She wandered the Coliseum, looking for Cloud.

Cloud, as it turned out, was sitting on the steps that lead out of the Coliseum, and Sora was talking with him. Summer stood at the foyer's entrance, her hand on her hip, trying to divine the conversation, but it was inscrutable at this range. Cloud was walking past Sora, now, toward Summer.

Sora called out, "How about a rematch sometime?"

"Not interested," Cloud said back to him before continuing onwards.

"Yo," Summer said, waving at Cloud.

"...Hey," Cloud said back, stopping in front of her, confused.

"How're you holding up?"

"Is everyone going to ask that?"

"You're so injured, even your sword is bandaged," Summer said flatly. She cracked a grin after a moment and Cloud did so too, even if it was barely visible over his cloak. "Hey, I'll buy you a drink. I owe you for earlier, anyway."

The sun was setting, but Summer had found a place.

It wasn't exactly a bar — at least, not as Summer knew it. The form was familiar, but strangely distorted. Bars back home served hard liquor and had beer, but this one focused solely on diluted wine. A poet serenaded the patrons with lute in hand. And Summer imagined, so close to the Coliseum, this was more of a tourist trap than anything.

But they did take munny and serve booze, so Summer couldn't be too unhappy.

Summer bought a bottle of wine and it came with a pair of cups for them. The pair found an open table and sat across from each other. Summer filled the cups equally with wine and set one before herself and one before Cloud.

"Here we go," Summer said, raising her cup. "Cheers!"

Cloud clinked their cups together and they both took a sip. Summer immediately realized that it was a lot stronger than she'd expected. She choked the first mouthful down and she resolved to take smaller sips.

Across the table, Cloud gently sipped his own wine, smiling as Summer struggled with her swallow.

Summer coughed roughly. "You were pretty great back there," she said. "You mind if I ask about the sword now?"

"Yeah, a little," Cloud said. "But you're going to anyway."

"What's with the sword?"

Cloud adjusted the sword on his back. "It's called the Buster Sword. It was a gift from a friend; it carries with it…all his dreams and honor."

"Did not mean to get so serious with the first question, oh-kay." Summer drank deeply. "Any hobbies?"

"Not really," Cloud said. "Fighting, I guess."

"If it's your living, it ain't a hobby, it's a job. Fighting is my job too! I'm a Huntress."

"A Huntress?" Cloud took another sip of his own wine.

"Yep! Summer Rose, Huntress, graduated from Beacon Academy. Huntresses and Huntsmen are sort of…super-badass monster hunters." Summer looked wistfully away before downing the rest of her wine and refilling her glass. "So what brings you out here, anyway?"

"I'm looking for someone," Cloud said. "Hades said he could help, but in exchange, I'd have to kill Hercules in the Games. I think the deal's off, though."

"Good bet," Summer said. "What are you gonna do now?"

"Keep looking," Cloud said, putting his elbows on the table. "He's out there. I can feel it."

"I'm looking for my home," Summer said thoughtfully. "What if we traveled together? I've got a ship. We're both looking for something, so it'd be worthwhile to put our heads together for a bit."

Cloud's eyes fixed onto Summer, and for the first time, she noticed that they were nearly glowing a blue-green. He blinked and nodded slightly. "Yeah. I wasn't looking forward to hitching a ride out of here, anyway."

Summer refilled their wine glasses and offered another toast. "To new partners," she said.

"New partners," Cloud said, clinking their glasses together.

Summer nursed a slight hangover as she got the Blackjack ready for takeoff.

Beneath her, she could hear shuffling. "There's coffee in the press, mugs are in the cabinet," Summer called down below deck. "Come on up when you've made a mug!"

After a few minutes, Cloud carefully ascended the ladder into the cockpit. He was holding a mug and looking around at all the switches, displays, and dials. "I've never flown a gummi ship before," he admitted, climbing into the co-pilot seat beside Summer.

"It's not so bad," Summer said. "I'm still pretty new at it, actually. How was the bunk?"

"Not bad. A little stiff, but I've slept on worse." Cloud rolled his neck. "So where are we headed to?"

"Well, I'm looking for my home," Summer said. "You're looking for…?"

"Sephiroth," Cloud supplied. He looked down into his coffee, as if he could see the man if he stared long enough. "He's a man in a black longcoat with silver hair. His sword is Masamune; it's a seven foot long katana." Cloud absentmindedly rubbed a spot just above his stomach. "Only he has the skill to wield it."

"Sounds like he'll be easy to spot," Summer said. "Any leads?"

"Aside from the Games? No."

Summer keyed up the navicomputer. "Then we're just two drifters, wanderin' the worlds! Pick something nearby."