CHAPTER THREE: A ZACK-OF-ALL-TRADES
The Sector 7 slums were alive with a rough, industrious energy that pulsed through every winding street and narrow alleyway. Makeshift stalls lined the main road, proudly displaying handmade goods, trinkets, patched clothing, hot meals cooked over small burners, inventive weapons and miscellaneous hand tools. Shacks leaned into each other like old friends, forming a sprawling network of homes and businesses under the faint glow of hanging sun lamps above, which had started to flicker on to give the slums the illusion of dawn.
Zack dipped into the steadily growing stream of people that trickled onto the main street that lead to the center of the slums, noting the way neighbors greeted one another, with their hands full with baskets, tools, foods and other supplies. Passing by, he saw a small group of men and women working together to mend a broken pipeline in a muddy ditch, while children began running errands, and elders selling goods from tiny storefronts they'd crafted from little more than crates and tarps.
Walking by, Zack got a sense one rarely saw topside. These weren't just people scraping by; they were neighbors, working side-by-side to build something from what little they had. It was rough, but they were determined, and Zack couldn't help but admire that strength; that sense of community.
How different it was from the rat race that was Topside.
The world above was cold and lifeless, for the most part. People treated each other like nothing more than cogs in a machine, bound only by their own self-interest. Loyalties were forced, smiles were practiced and friendships were mere transactions to get ahead, as they filled up the trains day in and out to go to their jobs with the only goal to continue enriching themselves.
It was nothing like the spontaneous warmth radiating through the streets here.
A flash of white armor brought Zack back from his thoughts abrupty – Shinra troops! Though it had been three days since he'd seen an active patrol, he knew Shinra's reach well enough to know that staying hidden was still a good idea. Keeping his cool, Zack walked over to a stall that had just opened up. The seller was coming out of his house with a small radio and smiled pleasantly at Zack.
"Hey there, newcomer! Nice to see a new face around here," He hollered happily, drawing the attention of the troops. Zack cursed internally as they glanced over at them. "You a Merc? I've got all sorts of weapons and trinkets that would be perfect for a guy like you!"
"S-Sure," Zack said, leaning against the stall to look at the rusting armor plates, pretending to rub his temples in thought to hide his face from the troopers. "Just looking."
"Hey, no problem at all. Lookin's always free," the man smiled, fiddling with his radio dials. "Let me know if you see somethin' ya like!"
Zack held his breath as the soldiers walked up to him. Yet, to his surprise, they kept walking right past him after giving him no more than a relaxed glance. Zack breathed out a confused sigh of relief. Whatever heat he'd drawn after the escape seemed to have cooled, and the city's patrols were no longer looking for him.
Well, at least not actively. And he soon found out why, when the seller turned up the volume on the radio.
"-Shinra officials have confirmed that the attack in the outskirts of Midgar that led to the tragic loss of a four entire platoons three days ago was the work of the creature that attacked the slums of Sector Two last month, whom the locals have dubbed the Wasteland Terror. Investigations are ongoing, but citizens are advised to avoid the area…"
Wasteland attack from three days ago? Zack thought. But that was…
"Hey," Zack said casually to the vendor, gesturing to the radio. "When Shinra rolled in a few nights ago, they put the whole sector on lockdown. I thought they were looking for, uh, you know…fugitives."
The seller chuckled, glancing around before lowering his voice. "Yeah, that's what I heard, too. They barged in here shoving flashlights in our faces and demanding ID. But now they're saying that what they were really after was that beast everyone's been talking about—Wasteland Terror, they're calling it. Good ol' Shinra cover-up, if you ask me!"
Zack tried to keep his face neutral, nodding slowly as he processed this new twist. "So… are we finally done with those patrols and the lockdown then?"
"More or less." The seller leaned closer, adding in a conspiratorial whisper, "Two nights ago, Shinra pulled most of their troops topside to Sector Three after some attack from that group, AVALANCHE. They hit one of the company's hubs hard, so the suits up top shifted focus. They're still around here and there, but the heat's died down for the most part. Lucky for us, too. Place is quiet without them."
"Yeah…" Zack replied thoughtfully. "Lucky."
He clenched his jaw.
So Shinra had spun the story, pinning the blame on a "monster" rather than acknowledging the truth. He knew exactly which platoons they were talking about. It wasn't some monster that took them out. Those were the soldiers he'd fought off just to stay alive. But in typical Shinra fashion, they had twisted the facts to bury the truth, just as they had with Sephiroth, Angeal and Genesis. They'd rather pin the blame on some faceless monster than to admit that they had ambushed and tried to kill him and Cloud for no other reason than to bury the truth about Sephiroth and the Nibelheim incident…
He shook his head.
Shinra… Slimy as ever, he thought. But at least they had made it into the overpopulated slums, where they could disappear, though knowing Shinra, they'd probably already written him and Cloud off as dead, too.
Zack let out a quiet sigh. Maybe that was for the best. If Shinra thought he was dead, at least on paper, he'd be free to operate on his own terms. Right now, he had to focus on his mission.
"Say, you wouldn't happen to know where I could find Wymer, would you? Heard he's the guy to talk to if you're looking for work."
The seller raised an eyebrow, scratching his chin. "Lookin' for Wymer, huh? Yeah, you'll usually find him out patrolling in the mornings. Keeps an eye on things around Scrap Boulevard. Figures he'd be around there right about now, keeping those fiends in check. But if you're just looking for work, you don't need to find him directly. Job board's just past here with all sorts of work, just take whatever's available. Wymer's usually back by the board by 10:00 and by 2:30 every day to settle up."
Zack gave him a grateful nod. "Thanks. I'll check it out. Appreciate the help."
The seller gave a friendly wave. "No problem, sir. If you're looking to get into the kind of work I think you're after with that big sword of yours, I've got a good offer on some bracers. Might give you a little edge out there."
He reached under the stall and pulled out a pair of dark blue steel bracers. They were simple, cheaply made, but sturdy enough, with a single slot for Materia embedded on one of them. "They're not top-of-the-line, but they'll hold up, and for you, I'll give you a fair deal. 30 gil. What do you say?"
Zack picked up the bracers and strapped them to his wrists and flexed his arms to test the fit. "They fit like a glove. I'll take them," he said, tossing a few gil onto the counter.
The seller pocketed the gil, nodding in satisfaction.
"Pleasure doing business with you. Stay sharp out there, alright?"
Zack lightly tapped the seller's wooden table twice and gave him a wink before walking off.
"Thanks. I'll make good use of these."
Eventually, Zack reached the center of the slums, where an old, concrete pillar held up a large wooden bulletin board, marking the area's main job board. A few men and women were gathered around, huddling close and discussing the various postings for the day. Zack joined them, casting his eyes over the notices taped, pinned, and nailed to the weathered wood. The jobs ranged from hauling scrap and running supplies to patrolling the alleys at night. But as he scanned the listings, one at the top caught his eye:
Mercenary Union Contract
Extermination of Doomrat Nest near Train Graveyard
Immediate Action Required
Reward: 10,000 G – Risk Level: Critical
10,000?! Without hesitation, Zack tore down the job notice and tucked it under his arm, drawing a few surprised looks from the people around him.
"Whoa, look Jason," a woman behind him whispered to her husband. "Did he just take a Union Contract? He's gotta be a Merc."
"Hey, kid, what guild you in, if you don't mind me askin'?" a grizzled man to his left muttered when he heard that, glancing hungrily at the Doomrat poster in Zack's hand. "Mind recruitin' me?"
"Sorry?" Zack asked, knitting his eyebrows. "Guild?"
The man exchanged uneasy glance with another man beside him.
"Wait, I don't see any emblems on him," someone else piped up, squinting at Zack. Several people turned their attention to Zack and began to murmur with one another.
"So he's not with a guild?"
"Is he even a real merc?"
"I think he is… why else would he be carrying that giant sword around for?"
"A guild?" Zack chuckled. "What's that?"
The woman gasped at her husband and a few others shook their heads. "Look, if you're not with the Neighborhood Watch, or a member of the Merc Union or guild-certified, you really shouldn't be taking those jobs," one warned.
Zack shrugged off their concerns, tucking the job notice into his pocket and gave them a thumbs up. "Thanks for the heads-up, but this is the best-paying gig on the board. I'll be fine."
"Freelancers shouldn't be taking on Union contracts, newbie," another voice warned, a young woman with a skull ring on her finger. "Not unless you got yourself a guild emblem. Besides, those rats are massive, meaner than anything I'd want to go toe-to-toe with. There's a reason us Lunar Wraiths and virtually every other guild stays away from that job. Nasty things… their bite carries poison that'll rot your skin. Even tougher if they're guardin' nests. But if you're determined…" she chuckled. "Just don't say we didn't warn you."
"Thanks for the concern, really. But I got this!" Zack replied, his grin never fading. He'd seen his share of over-sized, mutated creatures in his Wutai war days, and a pack of Doomrats didn't intimidate him much.
He turned and began to head off when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he found himself looking down at a young man who barely reached his chest, his sharp blond hair framed a pair of intense, curious blue eyes. The young man adjusted the scanner over one of his eyes and cleared his throat.
"Potential candidate, detected! Excuse me," he said in a friendly tone. "I couldn't help but overhear that you're planning to fight the Doomrats."
Zack tilted his head, amused by the unexpected interruption. "That's right. Can I help you?"
The young man took a moment to scan Zack from head to toe and seemed satisfied by what he saw. His eyes gleamed. "Actually, it's the other way around." He held out a small, glowing orb of materia, that had a peculiar synthetic shine to it, unlike any Zack had seen before. "My name is Chadley. I'm an intern with Shinra's research division, assigned to observe and learn about the vast life here in Midgar. This is an Assess Materia. It's an artificial, state-of-the-art materia that I developed to gather data on the creatures around us."
"Huh. Artificial materia? That's pretty cool," Zack gave it a quick once-over. "What's it do, exactly?"
"It's simple, really. If you focus this Materia on any biological target, it will analyze the creature's strengths, weaknesses, even resistance to certain elements," Chadley explained, his voice tinged with excitement. "It's synthetic, so you won't need Ethers to recharge it either, unlike conventional Materia. It also features a GPS mini-map and a two-way communicator. I thought it might come in handy on your… assignment."
"Wow! It can do all of that, huh? I'm impressed" Zack said. "But unfortunately, I'm not looking to buy anything right now. Kinda low on funds at the moment."
"Oh, my apologies for the misunderstanding," Chadley said quickly with a short bow. "I'm offering it to you as a down payment."
"Down payment? Like, for a job?"
"Yes, precisely. I'd like you to use my Assess materia to gather information on any fiends you encounter in your travels, like those nasty Doomrats. It would be invaluable to me, as I cannot safely venture into the places where these creatures roam. Of course, Shinra compensates well for each new analysis you provide, and you'd gain a strategic advantage by learning about the creatures firsthand. So, what do you say?"
Zack considered it for a moment, then nodded. "All right, you've got yourself a deal. Could be useful to know what I'm up against out there."
Chadley's face lit up with excitement. "Excellent! Here, take the materia. I'll make sure you're credited for each new analysis."
"Hold on," Zack interjected, placing the Assess materia into one of the empty slots in his bracer. "One condition—I don't want my name showing up anywhere in Shinra's records. Just keep things anonymous. We're not exactly… on good terms."
Chadley paused, a little taken aback, but nodded. "Understood. I'll make sure your identity is kept off the books. I would never jeopardize a data collector who's helping advance our understanding of the world. By the way, what is your name?"
Zack smiled, finally offering his hand. "It's Zack. Zack Fair."
Chadley took his hand with a firm grip, a lot firmer than what Zack would have expected from such a small person. "Great to meet you, Zack. I look forward to hearing about your findings!"
As Chadley turned to go, Zack shook his head with a grin, then turned to find his way towards the Train Graveyard.
…
The winding alleys grew darker as Zack made his way toward the Train Graveyard. A couple of men from the Neighborhood Watch were stationed near the entrance gate, both visibly relieved as Zack approached.
"Hey, Merc. You here for the Doomrat nest job?" one asked, barely able to hide the hint of worry in his voice.
"That's right," Zack replied, giving them a confident nod. "I'll have it cleared out before you know it."
The men exchanged a cautious glance, and one stepped forward, resting his rifle on his shoulder as he spoke. "Good to hear. A few of our own went in to track down the nest, but those damned rats are smart. We've lost a good man already. So be careful in there. They've been agitated, especially since we started clearing them out."
"Got it." Zack nodded.
They opened the gate, and Zack stepped into the graveyard of broken train cars. The air here stunk with a damp, metallic tang of rust, mildew, and decay that clung to his senses, making Zack sneeze. As he stepped from the packed dirt road onto the crunching, loose gravel, he felt as if he were entering a world that time had forgotten.
Rusted train cars loomed around him like fallen titans. Their steel shells were tagged with faded graffiti and slashed open by years of neglect and exposure to the elements and wild creatures. Tangled weeds clawed their way through every crack, slowly reclaiming the old tracks beneath, as if nature itself were trying to push these forgotten machines out. One of the tain cars tilted precariously on its broken wheels, leaning into another and forming a narrow passage lined with grimy puddles and twisted scraps of metal.
The place was haunting, like stepping into a forgotten Shinra tomb that served as evidence of yet another careless oversight from the megacorporation. They'd discarded these old machines here, leaving them to rot and pollute the slums without a second thought or care about the people who lived here.
Suddenly, the eerie stillness was shattered by the crack of gunfire echoing off the hollow shells of train cars nearby. Zack instinctively broke into a jog, running through the debris, following the sound. As he rounded a corner, he found the source: a group of four, gathered around the smoking remains of a dead Doom Rat.
The man with the gun arm—a burly, hulking figure in a worn leather vest—let his weapon drop with a grunt of satisfaction. A slim woman with chestnut hair tied back in a ponytail glared at him, one hand on her hip and the other holding a small sub-machine gun.
"Nice going, Barret," she hissed through her teeth, giving the larger man a slap on his arm. "That rat could've led us straight to the nest if you hadn't blasted it to bits!"
Barret gave her a scornful look, crossing his arms. "And let it chew on poor ol' Wedge? Not a chance." He jerked his thumb toward the third member of the group, a heavyset man with a red bandana who clutched his weapon nervously, eyes wide as he regarded the dead rat.
Wedge shrugged with an awkward smile.
"I mean… you're not wrong, Jessie. But I'm actually glad it's dead."
Jessie sighed, rubbing her temples in a circular motion against the whites of her eyes. "Look, the point is to find the nest and wipe them out at once, not just pick them off one by one."
The fourth person in the group, a tall, lean man with a quiet, serious demeanor leaned against a nearby train car, chiming in with a nod. "Jessie's got a point, Barret. It's been a week already. We can't just keep playing whack-a-mole with these things, we gotta take them out once and for all."
"Thank you, Biggs." Jessie folded her arms, giving Barret an annoyed glance.
Zack watched from behind a rusted barrier, assessing the group as they bickered. So, they hadn't found the nest yet either. He stepped forward, catching their attention. They turned, eyeing him with surprise and wariness.
Biggs' eyes narrowed as he studied Zack's face more closely. Suddenly he froze and a flicker of recognition crossed his face. He took a step forward, his brow furrowing.
"Hold on a second… Zack?" he asked in disbelief.
Zack's gaze shifted to Biggs, and he blinked, his face breaking into a look of surprise.
"No way…" he breathed, a grin spreading across his face as he connected the dots. "Biggs? What's up, man!"
The two stepped forward, bumping their forearms together at the wrists.
"What the hell are you doing here, man? I haven't see you in… what? Five, six years?" Biggs asked, shaking his head, still taken aback. "I thought you were dead!"
"Yeah," Zack replied, a touch of gravity in his voice. "Guess I did kinda disappear for a while."
Jessie exchanged a quizzical glance with Wedge, her eyebrows raised.
"Hold on… Biggs, you know this guy?" she asked, clearly intrigued.
"Oh yeah, Zack and I go way back," Biggs explained. "Used to bump into him when he'd visit his girlfriend, who was an old childhood friend of mine from my Leaf House days in Sector 5. Aerith…"
Hearing Aerith's name hit Zack like a punch in the gut.
"Aerith… right," he repeated softly, as if tasting the syllables for the first time in years. His gaze drifted away in the direction of Sector 5 for just a second. An ephemeral flicker of longing crossed his blue eyes before he shook it off.
Biggs caught the look but didn't press. Instead, his tone grew more serious as he gestured toward Zack's sword. "So… you alone? Shinra didn't send any more SOLDIERs down here with you into the slums, did they?"
"SHINRA?!" Jessie and Wedge stiffened, and Barret's eyes widened, his hand flexing over his gun arm.
"Hold up! You with Shinra, boy?" Barret barked, leveling his gun arm up at Zack's head.
Zack raised his hands, trying to diffuse the tension. "Whoa, whoa! Ex-SOLDIER, okay? I ditched Shinra a while back."
"Humph. I ain't seeing any emblems, neither," Barret said, still not lowering his gun. "You aren't here with a guild either, are ya?"
"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" Zack shrugged, unbothered. "No, I'm not with any guild."
Barret's gaze narrowed, and he finally lowered the gun, though distrust still simmering as he looked Zack up and down. "If you ain't with the Union or Shinra and you clearly ain't with the Watch, what are you supposed to be?"
Zack shrugged, giving a wry smile.
"What am I? Right now?" He paused, scratching the back of his neck as he put on a sheepish grin. "I'm about 150 gil away from being flat broke."
Wedge snorted, and Biggs cracked a faint smile.
"Yeah, join the club," Jessie muttered with a sad giggle.
Zack's eyes brightened. "Hey, I'd love to! I mean, if you guys don't mind, I could help—"
"No," Barret cut him off with a growl. "We don't need someone tagging along who ain't got a clue about this kind of work."
"Aw, don't be like that!" Zack said, bringing his arms out by his sides. "C'mon, big guy, I can tell you could use another hand here." But he trailed off as Barret glanced pointedly down at his gun arm. Zack quickly cleared his throat. "Uh, I mean… man! You could use another man. Heh."
Biggs and Wedge snickered behind Barret, and even Jessie cracked a smile.
She stepped forward with a friendly wave. "You know what, Zack? Despite what Barret here says, we really could use the help. We've been hunting these little suckers since yesterday and I'm ready to get this over with so we can go on to the real jobs," she said, rolling her eyes playfully at Barret's grouchy stare. "Problem is, we've got no clue where to head to next. These rats are practically ghosts."
"Yeah? Well, I might have just the thing to help…" Zack grinned as an idea sparked. "That is, if Barett will let me help…"
Barett growled and then in an instant, his mood lifted into a belly laugh.
"Be my guest. Stamp wants to play Merc, let him play Merc. Don't say I didn't tell you so later, though…"
Why does everyone keep saying that? Zack sighed. He lifted his arm, aiming his bracer toward the fallen Doomrat, and tapped on the glowing green Assess Materia embedded in it. The materia pulsed to life, casting a shimmering glow over the rat's body as it scanned the creature.
With a soft, whirring chirp, a pair of shimmering blue holographic boxes popped up, hovering just above his bracer. Zack squinted as he read the information projected in front of him.
Doomrat
A variant of the wererat, larger and more intelligent than its genetic relative. These creatures do not fear humans and are known to seek revenge on those who harm their vermin brethren.
Weakness: Ice
Then, a third, smaller box appeared, showing a directional minimap with several flashing dots in the distance. "Ohoho, what's this?" Zack muttered, leaning in.
"Zack! Can you hear me? This is Chadley," said an electronic voice coming from the materia. "Doomrat assessment received. The materia's sensors have picked up a concentrated cluster of Doomrats in the northern sector, deep within the abandoned train cars. I've marked it on your mini-map: Follow the rail tracks to the south, then take the narrow corridor past the half-buried train car. Extreme caution is advised.
"Perfect, thanks Chadley!" Zack said, standing up and giving a playful wave to the others. "Looks like the nest isn't too far from here. North sector, follow the tracks. Got it?"
"Wow!" Jessie squealed, grabbing Zack's wrist to get a closer look at the materia. "Not bad! That Assess materia's pretty handy."
Barret rolled his eyes, clearly not thrilled about following Zack's lead, but Biggs and Wedge were already nodding, eager to press forward.
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Biggs said with an infectious laugh. "Let's go catch ourselves some rats and get our pay!"
"Agreed!" Zack grinned, giving them a thumbs-up. "Alright, folks, let's go kick some rat tails!"
…
The five arrived at the nest's coordinates and stopped in their tracks. The Doomrats had really outdone themselves, turning their nest into a fortress by propping up pieces of train plating, debris and gravel, and tunneling deep below. The place was practically a mini-bunker under there. Barret's hands clenched at his gun-arm as he sized up the barricade.
"Perfect, time for a little pest control!" he declared, aiming his arm at the nest. "I say we hit 'em with everything we got and blast these lil suckers out!"
"I'm with ya, Barett. Let's go all out and blow the place up!" Wedge nodded his head enthusiastically.
But Zack quickly stepped in, holding out his arms to stop them.
"Whoa, whoa, hold on a sec! If we start blasting and the bullets don't make it through that wall of steel, those rats are just gonna scatter away and we'll be back to square one."
Barret gave him a hard look. "You got a better plan, hotshot?"
Zack rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He scanned the area and noticed movement—smaller, black-furred creatures were darting in and out of the shadows, nervously keeping a watch over the nest. The ones guarding the nest have smaller ears… His eyes narrowed. Definitely wererats… if we come out guns blazing, they'll alert the nest and the Doomrats will run away…
As he pondered, Wedge pulled out his lunch pack and began unwrapping a huge sandwich.
"Jeez, Wedge. Always thinking with your stomach," Biggs laughed, rolling his eyes.
Wedge beamed proudly, grinning as he held up the sandwich. "Marle made it for me—my favorite! Ham with three different kinds of cheese."
"Keep eatin' like that, Wedge, you'll turn into a rat yourself," Barret muttered, staring out at the nest. "All that cheese."
Zack's eyes flickered between the sandwich and the wererats that had been nervously circling the nest.
Then, suddenly, inspiration struck, and Zack snapped his fingers. "Wait a sec! The Assess materia said Doomrats are vindictive, right? So… if we want to draw them out, what we need to do is…"
"…take out the wererats. Piss off the Doomrats and make them come out to fight us," Jessie finished, catching onto his idea with a grin. "Not a bad plan at all."
Wedge looked around, confused, still clutching his sandwich. "Yeah, but how are we supposed to draw those little guys out? They're just gonna sneak back into the nest if we get close…"
Zack and Jessie both turned to eye Wedge's sandwich, grinning mischievously.
Wedge paled, clutching his lunch protectively. "Oh no, not my lunch! You wouldn't— NOOO!"
…
Minutes later, Wedge stood a good distance away, arms crossed and sulking as his beloved sandwich dangled from a length of twine. Zack held the other end with a mischievous grin, his eyes scanning the area for movement. Jessie perched on a nearby train car, adjusting her submachine gun with a smug smirk, while Biggs and Barret crouched behind rusted debris, ready to pounce.
"I still can't believe we're using my lunch as bait," Wedge grumbled, shaking his head. "This feels...personal."
Barret huffed from behind cover. "For crying out loud, Wedge, stop fussin' over lunch! It ain't gonna matter if these rats decide we're the meal instead."
"He's right," Biggs chimed in, his tone firm but laced with humor. "Eyes sharp, everyone."
"Biggs gets it," Zack said with a grin, giving the string a playful jiggle to make the sandwich sway. "Looks like our furry little squeakers are hungry."
Jessie snapped her head toward the shadows, her smirk fading into a focused expression. "Got it."
Barret's gun arm let out a low whirr as he raised it.
"Soon as they get close enough, we hit 'em hard. No messing around."
Zack nodded and tightened his grip on the string, his eyes sharpening. "Wait for it. Let them take the bait."
From the shadows of the tunnel, a pair of glowing yellow eyes emerged. Then another. A wiry, black-furred creature crept forward on clawed feet, its sharp teeth glinting under the dim light. A wererat.
"Patience," Zack whispered as more pairs of eyes blinked into view. One by one, the rats emerged—snarling, sniffing, and twitching their tails as they crept toward the sandwich.
Two became six, then eight, then twelve. Zack's grip on the twine tightened. He glanced up at Barret and nodded.
"Alright, team… light 'em up"
Jessie moved first, springing up from her perch with a burst of gunfire that tore through one rat and sent another scurrying for cover. Zack followed, dashing forward with an explosive leap. The Buster Sword whistled through the air in a sweeping arc, cutting down two more rats.
From his left, Biggs ran up with his rifle spitting fire, dropping a rat that had been climbing a stack of debris. Meanwhile, Barret's gun-arm roaring to life as it tore through the scrawnier wererats trying to scatter back to the nest.
"Yeah! How's that feel, huh?" He yelled at the rats over the gunfire.
Wedge joined in, lobbing a grenade from behind cover. It detonated with a sharp crack, scattering metal shards and debris and taking out three rats in a single blast.
"Boom, baby!" he cheered, pumping a fist. "Eat that!"
"Nice work, Wedge!" Zack called, pivoting to deflect a lunging rat with the flat of his blade. The rat's razor sharp teeth clanged against the weapon and Zack parried it away, bringing his blade in a circle to slash through the creature.
Jessie ran past him, unleashing a hail of rapid fire to down the final straggler.
The last wererat let out a pitiful screech before collapsing. For a brief moment, silence returned to the graveyard.
But it didn't last. Zack only had time to share a nod with Jessie before a low, guttural hiss rumbled from deep within the nest, followed by the sound of metal scraping against stone. The ground quaked, the barricade of steel and debris trembling as something massive began to stir beneath it.
Then they emerged.
The Doomrats.
The first to appear was massive, easily the size of a large dog, with sleek black fur matted with filth and old scars crisscrossing its body. Its crimson eyes burned with malice, and its long, segmented tail whipped behind it like a weapon.
Behind it came two more, slightly smaller but no less terrifying. Their muscles rippled under their fur, and their jagged, yellowed teeth glinted as they snarled, revealing rows of needle-like fangs. The largest of the group let out a bone-chilling screech, a sound that made Wedge visibly flinch and set the hairs on the back of Zack's neck on edge.
"Look at the size of those things!" Wedge gasped.
"Looks like the plan worked," Jessie muttered, reloading her weapon with trembling hands.
"Must be the founders," Biggs said, stepping forward with his handgun drawn. "Future rat queens that will leave to form their own nests. We take them out now, the entire colony is finished."
"Humph, sounds like a plan to me," Barret growled, raising his gun-arm. "Finally, some real action. Let's put these overgrown pests down."
Zack stepped to the front, spinning his sword in a wide arc before resting it against his shoulder. His grin never wavered, even as the Doomrats prowled closer, their growls reverberating through the graveyard. He flicked a thumb across his nose with a wise smile. A nostalgic feeling of euphoria surged through him, feeling the centered weight of the Buster Sword in his hands.
Barret's face hardened, his gaze shifting to the direction of the sound as his gloved fingers flexed around his weapon.
"Guess the party's startin'," he muttered, eyeing Zack with a mix of irritation and expectation. "Hope you're as ready as you think you are, kid."
Zack's hand shifted to the hilt of his sword, the thrill of the approaching fight lighting up his eyes. "Always am," he replied smoothly, nodding to the group.
With a rumbling hiss, one of the Doomrats lunged, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth and fur caked with grime from the slums.
Zack was already moving, running so fast he almost became a blur.
The Doomrat sprang at him, claws outstretched, but Zack sidestepped in a fluid motion, bringing his sword up in a sweeping arc that that ended the creature's hiss. Its body skidding across the ground. Another rat leapt from the shadows, aiming for his back, but Zack was ready, twisting to deflect it with his blade.
Behind him, he could hear the steady stream of gunfire from Barett's machine gun arm and Jessie's weapon. Biggs and Wedge had also joined the fray as more of the Doomrats emerged from their hiding places. With each swing of his sword, Zack's confidence only grew, the thrill of battle bringing out the fighter within him. Even Barret, who had seemed doubtful at first, was watching with a mixture of surprise and respect as Zack held his own, clearing rats with impressive ease.
Zack made it into a clearing ahead to find Biggs and Jessie getting swarmed by dozens of Doomrats. Biggs fired his rifle in controlled bursts, picking off rats as they tried to circle around. Jessie fired a quick volley, taking down one rat before another darted from the shadows, its claws scraping against her boot. She stumbled back with a gasp, her ammo running low.
"Damn it! These things don't quit!" She shouted in frustration, reloading. She didn't notice the huge rat pouncing at her from behind.
Before the rat could reach her, Zack was there, planting himself between Jessie and the beast. With a feral growl, the rat lunged at him, but Zack met it with a powerful swing, the blade slicing cleanly through its midsection.
Biggs ran up from his position and joined Zack and Jessie at their side as more rats swarmed them, tunneling out from the nest.
"Back to back!" Zack shouted, pressing against Biggs's shoulder as another wave poured in. Jessie flanked them, reloading quickly and adding bursts of fire from her SMG.
"Hey, hey!" Jessie called out with a pout as she ducked behind Zack's large frame and fired away. "No fair, you two having all the fun without me?"
Biggs laughed, unloading another shot into a rat's skull. "This y'all's idea of fun?"
"Yeah!" Zack and Jessie responded in unison, their voices filled with excitement as they hacked and shot their way through the swarm.
Zack's massive Buster Sword swung in a deadly arc. Each strike was precise, cutting down one rat only for two more to take its place.
A wiry rat lunged at him, its jaws snapping inches from his arm. Zack turned sharply, deflecting it with the flat of his blade before delivering a powerful upward slash that sent it flying. "You've got good aim, Biggs. Ever think about sword training?"
Biggs chuckled between breaths. "I think I'll stick to shooting. Looks like you've got the swinging thing down."
Zack laughed, though his breath hitched as another rat charged, its claws raking at his shin guard. The blow staggered him, and for a split second, he faltered. Biggs immediately turned, his rifle cracking as he took down the offending rat.
"I got you!" Biggs said, his voice firm, but he staggered back as another wave rushed them. The sheer number of rats was overwhelming, their screeches deafening as they swarmed.
"Appreciate it!" Zack said, recovering quickly and stepping forward with a wild grin. He spun his sword in a wide circle, creating a momentary buffer that knocked back several rats. "C'mon, is that all you've got?"
The Doomrats answered with a renewed charge, their claws scraping against the metal debris and sending sparks flying. At one point, a rat lunged at Zack's back, its claws outstretched. Biggs spun and fired, the bullet hitting its mark. "Watch your back!" Biggs yelled.
"Thanks! I owe you one," Zack called, cutting down another attacker.
"Make it a beer, and we're even," Biggs shot back, his tone dry but amused.
"Great idea!" Jessie quipped. "Couple o' Cosmo Canyons back at the Seventh? Waddaya say, Zack?"
"I have no idea what you just said, but – Deal!" Zack laughed.
The banter was cut short as a gigantic rat the size of a baby Chocobo burst from the shadows, knocking Zack off balance. The blow sent the Buster Sword flying in the opposite direction, burying into the ground.
"Zack!" Jessie screamed.
Zack's boot shot up into the creature's belly and with a backwards roll, he tossed it aside, using the momentum to roll back onto his feet.
"I'm okay. I've got this!" he shouted back, dodging the rat's snapping jaws as it came back for another bite at him. He ducked under its swiping claws and retaliated with a punch to its side. His fist connected with a dull thud, but the rat barely flinched, its red eyes glowing with feral hunger.
Biggs and Jessie tried to move in to help, but more rats swarmed them, forcing them to fight on their own fronts.
"Zack, look out!" Jessie yelled as the beast charged again.
Zack sidestepped, grabbing the rat's tail and using its momentum to slam it into a nearby pile of rubble. The rat let out an enraged screech, shaking off the impact and spinning to face him. Zack stood his ground, his chest heaving, sweat dripping from his brow, but his grin was still there.
"Alright, big guy," Zack muttered, raising his fists. "Let's finish this."
The rat lunged again, claws slashing, but Zack ducked low, delivering a rapid uppercut to its jaw. The blow staggered it, and Zack pressed the advantage, driving a flurry of punches into its side. Each hit reverberated through his arms, but he didn't let up. Thanks to the super soldier genes within him, his fists packed a walloping punch that began to overpower the beast.
The rat snarled, snapping its jaws wildly, but Zack dodged the attack and planted his boot against its chest, shoving it back. He launched forward with a powerful leap, his fist cocked back. With all his strength, he drove a final punch into the rat's head. The force of the blow unleashed a shockwave that twisted its head back, snapping at the neck. It sent the creature sprawling, its massive body collapsing with a resounding thud.
For a moment, silence reigned. Zack stood over the fallen rat, his chest heaving and his knuckles numb underneath his gloves, but his grin still unbroken.
Jessie and Biggs rushed over now that they had taken down the last of the rats on their end.
"Zack… You just punched a rat the size of a chocobo to death," Jessie said, mouth wide, shaking her head in awe and disbelief. "Are you… insane?!"
"OH YEAH!," Zack whooped, flashing her a tired but triumphant smile.
Biggs shook his head, laughing as he gently punched Zack on the shoulder. "Remind me never to make you mad, SOLDIER."
Just when it seemed like they'd thinned out the last of the swarm, a heavier rumble echoed from deep within the alleyway. The ground trembled, and all eyes turned toward the sound as an enormous Doom Rat, twice the size of the others, stepped into view. Its eyes gleamed with a fierce, unrelenting hunger as it assessed the newcomers.
Barret clenched his jaw. "Well, well… looks like the real boss decided to show up."
Zack's grin only widened as he gripped his sword, his gaze steady on the creature.
"Good. I was hoping for a bit more of a challenge." He glanced at the others. "You all ready?"
"Don't get greedy," Barett said, stepping forward. "This one's mine."
The massive Doomrat let out a deafening screech, baring rows of jagged teeth as it skittered forward, each step pounding like a hammer against the ground. The beast towered over the scattered remains of the smaller rats, sizing up its enemies with glowing red eyes. It let out a guttural snarl, its fur bristling as it bared its jagged teeth. It stomped forward, sending a tremor through the ground with each step.
Barret planted his feet firmly, raising his gun-arm and flipping a switch. The barrel began to glow, and sparks danced along its length as a low hum filled the air. The ground around him seemed to shiver under the sheer force of the charge building within the weapon.
"Whoa," Jessie muttered, taking a step back. "Barret, what are you—?"
"Quiet," Barret snapped, his voice rumbling with authority. "Let the big man work."
The Doomrat roared again, charging forward, its massive claws outstretched. Barret didn't flinch. He stood his ground, the glow of his arm intensifying to a blazing orange as heat waves rippled through the air.
"Alright, you nasty little varmint," Barret growled through gritted teeth, locking onto the creature. "Time to send you straight to hell! FIRE IN THE HOLE!"
With a deafening roar of his own, Barret unleashed the attack. A fiery projectile shot out of his gun-arm, spiraling toward the Doomrat with the force of a freight train. The fireball slammed into the creature, and for a moment, the entire alleyway lit up like a furnace.
The explosion that followed was massive. A shockwave blasted outward, scattering debris and sending a plume of smoke and ash into the air. When the dust finally settled, the Doomrat was… gone. No body, no fur—just smoldering scraps of dirt, blood and rubble where it had stood.
The group stood in stunned silence, their hair and clothes slightly singed from the blast.
"Uh… Barret?" Jessie finally broke the silence, her voice tinged with disbelief. "You had that this whole time and didn't think to use it from the start?!"
Barret shrugged, turning away as though nothing had happened. "Didn't feel like wastin' it on the small fry."
Jessie threw up her arms, exasperated. "You obliterated it! There's not even a trace left! How are we supposed to prove we got rid of it to Wymer?"
"Wymer's gonna know," Barret replied coolly, dusting off his gun-arm. "Trust me. Now toss a couple of grenades into the nest and blow it to shreds. After we collect our reward, we can treat ourselves to a nice drink"
"Yes, your Majesty," Jessie groaned, taking out three grenades from her vest. "Unbelievable."
Barett was walking past Zack and he paused behind him. Maybe it was his pride, his ego or his damned stubborness, but he refused to turn and look Zack in the eye.
"Not bad for a guildless Merc," Barret muttered with a grudging nod.
"You're not a bad fighter yourself. Thanks for the assist," Zack replied.
"Assist?" Barett huffed with a laugh.
Zack flashed him a smirk, giving them all a nod before kneeling to hoist one of the dead Doomrats, the one he'd pummeled to death, by the tail. He slung it over his shoulder with ease, brushing off the blood and dirt as best he could.
"What're you doing with that?" Biggs asked.
"Taking it back to Wymer. Need proof for the reward, right?" Zack replied, nonchalantly adjusting the weight of the rat over his shoulder as if it were no more than a sack of potatoes.
"Zack… come with us instead," Biggs said. A flash of worry streaked across his dark eyes and he stepped closer to Zack. "Please? Let's catch up over some drinks. First round on me?"
"Hey a deal's a deal, right?" Zack said with a smile. "Don't worry, we'll definitely catch up. But right now, I gotta turn this guy in and get paid so I can take on another job."
"Yeah… you said you were strapped for cash, huh? I get it," Biggs said. His gaze fell to the ground with a guilty look that Zack couldn't quite decipher.
Jessie and Biggs had that same look, too, and Barett was still facing the other way.
Zack's smile faltered slightly as he glanced between them, sensing the tension that had suddenly fallen over the group. Their silence was louder than words, and it pressed against him like an invisible weight.
"What's with you guys?" Zack asked, adjusting the Doomrat on his shoulder. "You're acting like someone died. Lighten up—I said I've got this!"
Jessie shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of her neck. "It's just… things don't always go as planned with the Union. That's all."
"The Union?" Zack tilted his head, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. "Wait, is this about that guild thing again?"
Wedge opened his mouth as if to explain but hesitated, his lips pressing into a tight line.
Barret, still facing away, broke the silence with a gruff sigh. "You'll figure it out soon enough. Ain't no point sugarcoating it."
Zack raised an eyebrow, stepping forward. "What do you mean? Figure what out?"
"Just… talk to Wymer, man," Biggs said, still not looking up at Zack. "He'll explain everything."
…
"Nope. No reward. Nothing. Zero. Zilch. Nada," Wymer said, scratching his messy black beard. A black leather flat cap cast a somber shade over the man's serious blue eyes. His arms were folded disapprovingly over his green sleeveless jacket.
The words hit Zack like a punch in the gut. For a moment, he just stared at the leader of the Neighborhood Watch, his mind processing what he'd said.
"No reward…?" He repeated slowly, his voice tinged with disbelief. "But-"
Wymer cut him off with a heavy sigh, leaning back in his chair.
"Look, kid, it ain't personal. Those are the rules set by the Mercenary Union. That contract? Strictly for guild members or folks officially signed on with the Watch. You're neither."
Zack tightened his grip on the Doomrat's tail, his knuckles turning white.
"But I did the job! I helped clear out the rats, same as everyone else. That should count for something!"
"It does count," Wymer said, his voice softening as he rested his elbows on the desk. "You got guts, I'll give you that. But the Union doesn't care about guts. They care about rules. You wanna get paid, you gotta play by 'em. I wish you'd come to me before diving in headfirst."
"I didn't know…" Zack's voice trailed off, frustration evident in his tone. He let the Doomrat slide off his shoulder with a dull thud onto the floor. The creature's lifeless eyes seemed to mock him, reminding him of a wasted day. "Guess that explains why they were all acting weird."
Wymer nodded slowly. "Yeah, they probably figured it out but didn't have the heart to tell you. Look, I get it. Times are tough, and you're just trying to make an honest living. But you're new around here, and there's a system in place for a reason. Jobs like these? They're for folks who've earned the trust of the Union or the Watch. Keeps things fair, keeps people safe."
Zack's shoulders slumped. He ran a hand through his spiky black hair, trying to mask the sting of disappointment. "So, what now? I wasted my time for nothing?"
"Not nothing," Wymer said, standing and circling around his desk. He placed a hand on Zack's shoulder, his grip firm but reassuring. "You've got heart, kid. That's more than I can say for a lot of the folks I deal with. And I've got a feeling you're not the kind to back down just because of a little red tape."
Zack met his gaze, his expression hard to read. "What are you saying?"
Wymer crossed his arms, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small smile. "I'm saying I can put you to work. It won't be glamorous, and it sure as hell won't make you rich overnight. But if you're willing to roll up your sleeves and prove yourself, I might be able to vouch for you with the Watch. Earn your spot. That sound like something you'd be up for?"
Zack hesitated, his pride warring with his practicality. He hated the idea of being some grunt, scraping by for pennies. But at the same time, Wymer's offer felt genuine—a chance to belong, to make a name for himself.
"What kind of work?" he asked cautiously.
"Maintenance, mostly. Guard duty. Helping out with odd jobs around the Sector. Stuff that'll show the folks around here you're reliable. Once you've earned their trust—and mine—we'll talk about getting you into the Watch. From there, you can start taking on the big contracts."
Zack looked at the Doomrat at his feet, the weight of the day's events settling on him. It wasn't the payoff he'd hoped for, but it was something. A step forward.
"Alright, Wymer. Point me in the right direction. I'm not picky," he said. "I'll do whatever I need to."
Wymer nodded with a hint of admiration. "Good man. I've got a buddy over at the farms who needs a hand moving supplies around. And there's a lot of backlogged maintenance out in the east sector; it's hard, messy, smelly labor, but if you're up for it, you can take the rest of the day off and start tomorrow…"
"No, that's okay. Count me in," Zack replied. "I'm ready to start as soon as possible."
Wymer chuckled, giving him a hearty pat on the back. "That's the spirit. You're gonna fit in just fine, Zack. Welcome aboard. Leave that rat there, the Watch will take care of it. You won't be needing that sword for any of this either, though I can't stop you from bringing it. Meet me out back. I'll bring the old Chocobo cart around and we can head out immediately."
Zack managed a small smile, though his chest still felt heavy. He heaved a heavy sigh and followed Wymer out of the office.
…
The air in the east sector was thick with the acrid smell of rust and oil. Zack stood in the shadow of a towering pile of scrap metal, a long, groaning creak ringing out as a rusted crane hoisted another load. Wymer's "buddy" turned out to be a wiry, no-nonsense man named Paul, who had greeted Zack with a gruff nod and promptly handed him a pair of heavy gloves and a tool belt.
"Alright, come on rookie," Paul said, making the cigarette dangling from his mouth dance. "Follow me."
Zack followed Paul deeper into the jobsite. All sorts of junk laid scattered across the yard. A heat wave coming from two furnaces licked at Zack's tired body.
"Miriam!" Paul barked, waving over the lean woman who had been inspecting a conveyor belt. She jogged over, her sharp features scrunched in mild annoyance.
"What now?" she asked, crossing her arms.
Paul jabbed a thumb toward Zack, barely suppressing a smirk. "Got a newbie here. Name's Zack. He's gonna be fillin' in for Justin from now on. Show him the ropes, Miriam. And go easy on him," Paul said with a mocking grin, the first time Zack saw those ugly rotting teeth. "He's from Gongaga."
Miriam smirked, extending a grease-smudged hand. "Well, 'Gongaga,' guess you're stuck with me. Welcome to Conversion Scrapyard."
She pointed toward a heap of broken pipes and twisted rebar. "People drop off all sorts of undesired scrap here for a bit of gil. First task: clear all this out and haul it to the scrapyard down the way. Unusable junk gets melted down in the furnace, the rest goes to the converter to get turned into plates, beams, or whatever the hell else people need. Anything that looks even remotely useful, toss it on the left conveyor. The rest goes right. Got it?"
Zack nodded, squaring his shoulders. "Got it."
"Cart's there if you need it, but most of it's gotta be loaded by hand. Don't let the size fool you; the damn things weigh a ton when they're packed with residue. And don't go breaking your back trying to rush it." Miriam added. "You see a bent beam or a twisted pipe that can be convertible? Then it's your job to get it into shape before it heads down the line. Hammer, saw, or brute strength—use whatever you've got. But if it's unusable, too rusty or too broken, toss it. No sense in wasting your time trying to fix it. Measure twice, swing once. Got it? I'll be working the converter controls. Got any questions, just holler."
"Yes, ma'am," Zack said.
Zack watched as Miriam hurried off back to the controls, leaving him with a daunting pile of jagged metal and a set of tools that looked older than he was. He glanced around the yard, noticing other workers bustling about their tasks—some unloading carts, others operating machinery or hammering away at warped scraps.
The work was grueling from the start. Zack sifted through the pile, separating usable pieces of scrap from the mangled, rusted bits destined for the furnace. Bent pipes needed to be hammered straight; jagged edges had to be sawed smooth. It was slow, painstaking labor that demanded both strength and precision. Nope, definitely nothing like a sword.
At first, Zack struggled to keep up. The hammers felt heavier than they looked, and every strike sent vibrations up his tired arms. The saws caught on uneven surfaces, jerking awkwardly in his hands. Sweat dripped from his brow, and his muscles screamed in protest with every movement.
After a few hours, Miriam returned to check up on him.
"Hey, Gongaga," Miriam called, tossing him a water bottle and nodding toward his uneven grip on the saw. "Angle it more, like this. Let the teeth do the work."
Zack nodded and after drinking the water bottle in one go, he adjusted his stance, following her advice. The saw bit through the metal more smoothly this time, and he shot Miriam a grateful grin.
"Not bad," she said, watching as he got the hang of it. "You'll be a pro in no time."
As the hours dragged on, Zack found his rhythm. His hammer strikes became more precise, his movements more efficient. When his arms ached, he gritted his teeth and pushed through. Other workers passed by occasionally, offering tips or a word of encouragement.
"Use your legs when you lift," a burly man called out as Zack hoisted a heavy beam onto the conveyor.
"Keep your gloves on," another added. "You'll thank me later when your hands aren't shredded."
Despite the exhaustion, Zack began to get the hang of it. Whenever somebody needed help, Zack was quick to lend a hand.
By the time the sun dipped low in the sky, Zack had a decent pile of straightened pipes and flattened scraps ready for the converter. The unusable pieces had been hauled to the furnace to be melted.
He helped Miriam load the pipes into the converter and breathed a sigh of relief when the materials passed through. Miriam turned to him with a pleasant smile, wiping grease from her hands with a rag. "Not bad for your first day. You've got the stamina for this, I'll give you that. Especially the hammers – you're a natural with them."
"Thanks," Zack said, leaning on his hammer for support. He was drenched in sweat, his arms trembling from the effort, but there was a spark of satisfaction in his eyes.
"Keep this up, and you'll definitely earn yourself a spot in Wymer's good graces," Miriam added with a grin. "Oh, and don't let Paul push you around too much. He's all bark, no bite. Likes to dump on the newbies that's all. Makes him feel all important."
Zack chuckled, glancing over at Paul, who was inspecting another worker's load with his usual gruff demeanor. "Yeah, I'll keep that in mind."
As the crew began packing up for the day, Zack took a moment to look around the yard. The work was tough, but it felt good to be part of something—building trust, earning respect, proving he had what it took, and earning every last gil with his blood and sweat.
He still had a long way to go, but for the first time in a while, he felt like he was moving forward.
The yard began to quiet as the workers wrapped up their tasks, the orange glow of the furnaces fading into the twilight. Zack stretched his sore arms, setting down his hammer with a clatter.
"Must feel weird, doesn't it?" Miriam laughed and smiled, lowering her tone. "Trading in a sword for a hammer or saw?"
Zack blinked. "What do you mean?"
Miriam tilted her head, her eyes catching the bright teal glow of his. "Your eyes. That's Mako, isn't it? You're a SOLDIER. And SOLDIERs use swords, right?"
Zack hesitated, the words catching in his throat.
"Yeah.. but I'm not a SOLDIER anymore," he said finally, his voice low.
Miriam studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Figured. My father… he was a SOLDIER too. Years ago. I made him this beautiful longsword—custom grip, perfect balance. Was supposed to be for his promotion. But he died in Wutai before it could even reach him."
Her voice flattened, and she turned her gaze to the fading light on the horizon. "On the day we buried him, Shinra sent us a medal, you know. Called him a hero. Like that makes up for it. My mom fell to the drink and we lost our home topside. Had to come live down here where the drink finished her off," She laughed bitterly. "Dad wanted to save people. To be someone important. But dreams don't mean a damn thing in this world. All they do is get you killed."
"I'm so sorry to hear that," Zack told her sincerely.
Miriam glanced toward two of the other workers—an older man with a salt-and-pepper beard who had told Zack to keep his gloves on, and another older, stockier guy who had given him tips on lifting beams.
"You see those two over there? George and Lance. They're ex-SOLDIERs too. 3rd Class, I think."
Zack followed her gaze towards the men. They were leaning against a cart now, sharing a quiet joke, their postures relaxed but their eyes shadowed by something deeper.
"They're good guys," Miriam continued, "but look at 'em. Spent years working to be heroes, and now they're here, rotting away like the rest of us."
She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly as she turned back to Zack. "You remind me of them when they first started, you know. Eager. Always ready to jump in, do more than your share. Like you've got something to prove."
"Wha? I…" Zack blinked, caught off guard by the comment. "Just trying to do a good job, get paid and go home. That's all there is to it," he said with a shrug.
"I know you mean well, and this is not on you but..." Miriam sighed. "Mind if I give you some advice, from one former Topsider to another?"
"Sure," Zack said, offering a smile in an attempt to disarm her sharp gaze.
"You're eager. New guy. Want to prove yourself, help out, show everyone you're a team player. So what happens? Every time someone needed something done, they called for you. Lift that beam. Move that cart. Clear out that pile, letting you do the heavy lifting so they could focus on the easy stuff."
Zack opened his mouth to respond, but Miriam cut him off with a bitter laugh.
"Don't get me wrong; they're not bad people. Hell, they're probably thinking they're helping you 'learn the ropes' or some crap like that. But you're a kind soul and that kindness just paints a target on your back."
Zack shook his head but didn't respond. Miriam continued. Her voice softened, but the bitterness remained.
"Don't let these uh…these slum dwellers' smiles fool you. You think people down here respect hard work? They don't. They expect it. They see you busting your ass, and they'll just pile more on until you break. And when you do, they'll step right over you like nothing happened." Zack stayed silent, his hands tightening around the handle of the hammer. Miriam glanced at him, her expression unreadable.
A silence fell between them She stepped away, tossing her grease-stained rag onto a nearby cart.
"I just don't want to see a good guy from Topside like you keep getting taken advantage of… that's all. Get some rest. Tomorrow's another long day, and trust me, you'll need it."
Zack wanted to respond, to tell her goodnight, but his lips were sealed shut. He silently watched her retreat into the shadows of the scrapyard, her words swirling in his mind like the embers rising from the furnace. He glanced down at his hands—calloused, bruised, and aching.
The flames of the furnaces flickered in the darkening sky, casting long, jagged shadows across the yard. Zack stared into the fire, his thoughts heavy, and let Miriam's words settle over him like a leaden weight.
…
After returning to the clinic that night and handing his days' wages to Doctor Grant and taking a much-needed shower, Zack returned to Cloud's room, sitting by his friend's side as the steady rhythm of the newly acquired blood filtering machine filled the quiet curtain space. Cloud lay still, his breathing shallow but steady, his face peaceful despite the Mako-induced coma that had claimed him.
Zack lowered himself into the bench at Cloud's bedside, studying his friend's face. "Hey, buddy," he whispered, leaning forward. "You missed one hell of a fight today. Brought down a real nasty one. Giant Doomrat and his little rat buddies tried to gobble up your ol' pal Zack, but I gave him a thing or two with these. Su-su-ha!"
Zack swung his fists in the air with a smile, then slowly brought them down to Cloud's bedside.
"Ran into an old friend who knows Aerith. Small world, huh?" Zack's hands curled around the blanket. He breathed in and out a steadying breath. "Biggs. Used to go by X back in the day. Interesting name, huh? X… Boy did he and his buddies play me like a fiddle… haha…"
Zack sighed, looking down at his hands, his fingers brushing the edge of Cloud's blanket. The smile slowly faded.
"It's just… funny, you know? People see your kindness, and they think you're weak. Like they can just take advantage of you. I fell for it. I thought I could trust 'em, but… well, lesson learned, right? There's always someone looking to use you, and it's hard to tell who that might be until it's too late." Zack paused, feeling the weight of his words. He exhaled sharply, holding back the emotion that was clawing at his chest.
His eyes flickered to Cloud, his face serene, unaware of the storm swirling inside Zack.
"But you know what?" Zack continued, his voice quieter now, more serious. "It's not a weakness, Cloud. Kindness... it's not a weakness. People think it is, but it takes real strength to keep your heart open in a world like this. You've gotta be strong enough to believe in something, even when everything around you tells you not to."
He leaned back slightly, running a hand through his messy hair, trying to keep his thoughts together.
"Dreams are worth embracing. I know it's hard sometimes, feels like you're just being pulled under, like there's no point anymore… but dreams matter. They're worth holding onto. I wouldn't have made it this far without 'em. Shit man, I wouldn't have made it this far without you, Cloud. So don't you dare think that just because you're lying here, that you're not making a difference. That you don't still matter."
Zack's gaze softened, his voice quieter now, like he was speaking directly to Cloud's soul.
"I'm not going anywhere, alright? No matter what happens, I'm always gonna be by your side. Always. You get better, and I'll be right here, every step of the way. No one's gonna take that from us. Not while I'm around. You hear me?"
For a long moment he sat in silence, with only the gently beeps of the machine working on Cloud. Finally, Zack sat back against the bench, reaching for the book with the weathered white cover that he kept there. He opened it and prepared to read when he noticed the tiniest movement—a subtle twitch in Cloud's fingers.
Zack blinked, staring hard to make sure he wasn't imagining it.
"Cloud?!" He gasped.
Then Cloud's fingers twitched again, more clearly this time. And then… Cloud smacked his lips as if savoring something.
"Mmm…" He shifted slightly. A small, faint smile formed in his peaceful face.
"Uh… Cloud?" Zack laughed, but it caught against the relieved lump in his throat.
Cloud's eyelids fluttered, slowly cracking open. The green glow of Mako in his friend's eyes met his own, and Zack felt his breath catch.
"Z-Zack…?" His voice was barely above a whisper, and yet it echoed in Zack's mind like a shout. "I… I had the strangest dream… about home. I was eating… my mom's pot roast…"
Zack's face broke into an enormous grin, his eyes stinging as he tried to laugh, tried to say anything. But his words tangled in his throat, overwhelmed by the sheer joy of it, the relief after so many days of holding on to hope.
"Cloud," he finally choked out, leaning in, his hands gripping the sides of the bed. "You're awake! You're actually awake!" He almost shouted it, and he knew he was on the verge of bawling right then and there.
Cloud's weak smile held steady as he watched Zack try to pull himself together.
"You… really missed me that much?" he teased, his voice still faint.
"While you were enjoying your pot roast, I was getting my ass chewed out… literally and figuratively!"
"I'm sorry," Cloud's chuckled softly, still fogged with sleep. "Where… are we?"
"We're in the Sector 7 Slums," Zack said quietly. "I got us to a clinic. We're safe from Shinra here. It's a long story. But you've got a bad case of Mako poisoning. But we're working to help get you better. So for now, just get plenty of rest. I'll handle the rest-"
"Zack…" Cloud weakly interrupted him.
"Yeah, buddy?"
"Is it… too late to become a SOLDIER?"
Zack sat back and his smile faded slightly.
"It's never too late to embrace your dreams. Just trust me. Once you get out of this bed, I'll make a SOLDIER out of you. The hero you've always wanted to be. But until then, focus on getting better. We've got a long road ahead. So just take it easy and rest."
"...okay,' Cloud let out a soft sigh of relief. His eyes drifted down to the small, worn book in Zack's hands.
Cloud squinted at it. "What's that?"
"Oh, just something that'll help you count sheep," Zack said, with a mischievous glint. "It's LOVELESS."
Zack cleared his throat and started reading:
"When the war of the beasts brings about world's end,
the goddess descends from the sky.
Wings of light and dark spread afar
She guides us to bliss, her gift everlasting…"
"Oh no!" Cloud groaned, wrinkling his nose. "Not LOVELESS! You know how much I hate LOVELESS! Anything but that!"
"Too bad. It's the only book that Doctor Grant had, aside from his medical books," Zack teased, opening to the first page.
"Perfect," Cloud responded. "Can you just read me one of those instead."
"Hush and go back to sleep," Zack instructed. "The longer you're awake, the longer I read. Got it?"
"Great… lucky me," Cloud sighed, eyes drifting shut, yet the faintest trace of a smile lingered on his lips as he listened to Zack's voice.
Zack's smile softened as he read on.
"Infinite in wisdom is the gift of the Goddess,
we seek it thus and take to the sky.
Ripples form on the water's surface
the wandering soul knows no rest."
Zack paused, then glanced at Cloud with a grin. "Three friends go into battle…"
Cloud gave off an exasparated groan, but humored Zack. "One is captured, one flies away."
"The one that is left behind becomes a hero," they said together.