Chapter III: A Train Bound

The dimly lit platform was a far cry from the chaos of Sector 8. Cloud stood alone for a moment, his breath misting in the cool underground air. The muted roar of distant sirens still echoed faintly, but here, it was quieter, save for the low hum of the train waiting in the shadows. He adjusted the Buster Sword on his back and strode forward, his boots clicking softly against the metal floor.

As he approached, the sound of familiar voices drifted from the train car ahead. Barret's gruff tone was unmistakable, rising above the others. The man's passion could light up even the darkest tunnel—or, more accurately, burn it down.

Cloud climbed aboard without hesitation. The train car was almost empty, save for Barret and the rest of AVALANCHE, their faces tense but relieved as they saw him step inside.

"About time," Barret grunted, leaning back against the wall. His massive gun-arm rested on his lap, but the tension in his posture suggested he wasn't ready to relax just yet. "Thought you might've got yourself lost, SOLDIER boy."

Cloud ignored the jab, taking a seat across from him. "I'm here, aren't I?"

Barret snorted. "Barely. Shinra was crawling all over Sector 8. You bring 'em with you?"

"No," Cloud said flatly. He glanced at Jessie, Biggs, and Wedge, who sat nearby, each looking equally exhausted. Jessie had her knees drawn up to her chest, Biggs fiddled with a broken communicator, and Wedge stared blankly out the window.

"Everyone alright?" Cloud asked.

"We're fine," Jessie replied, managing a small smile. "Thanks to you and Barret, mostly. That security robot was no joke."

Biggs nodded, not looking up from his work. "They'll be on high alert now. We'll need to rethink our approach for the next reactor."

"Next reactor?" Cloud raised an eyebrow.

Barret leaned forward, his dark eyes boring into Cloud's. "Damn right, next reactor. You think we're stoppin' with one? Shinra's got eight of these planet-killin' monstrosities, and we're gonna blow every last one to hell."

Cloud didn't respond immediately. He leaned back, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the floor. The mission had gone smoothly enough, but the aftermath lingered in his mind—the flames, the screams, the vision of Sephiroth. And then there was the flower girl. Her calm, knowing eyes haunted him as much as Sephiroth's mocking voice.

"You ain't got nothin' to say, huh?" Barret growled, his tone challenging. "What, you don't believe in the cause?"

"I'm here for the money," Cloud said, his voice emotionless. "That's what you hired me for."

Barret slammed his gun-arm against the wall, the sound reverberating through the car. "This ain't just about money, kid! This is about savin' the planet! Don't you feel it? The way Shinra's suckin' the life outta it? That green glow in the reactors? That's the planet's blood, its soul! And we're lettin' them bleed it dry!"

Cloud didn't flinch, though his grip on his knee tightened slightly. He glanced up at Barret. "And blowing up reactors is the answer?"

"Damn right it is!" Barret shot back. "You ever heard of the Lifestream? That's what Shinra's messin' with. The Lifestream's what gives the planet life. It's what keeps us all goin'. But Shinra don't care. They just see it as fuel for their machines, a way to keep their fancy city up and runnin' while the rest of us rot down here."

Cloud stayed silent, his mind flickering back to the reactor's core. The pulsating green light, the oppressive heat—it had felt alive in a way he couldn't fully explain.

Barret leaned closer, his voice lowering but losing none of its intensity. "You know the stories, don't you? About the gods? Etro, Pulse, Lindzei—all of 'em. The Lifestream ain't just random energy, SOLDIER boy. It's Etro's gift. Her way of keepin' the cycle of life and death goin'. And every time Shinra takes from it, they're spittin' in the goddess's face."

Cloud blinked, surprised by the shift in Barret's tone. "You really believe that?"

Barret's expression hardened. "Believe it? I've seen it. You think this world's all factories and reactors? Nah, man, there's somethin' bigger out there, somethin' we're all part of. And if we don't fight for it, who will?"

The train lurched into motion, the sudden shift breaking the tension. Jessie stretched her arms over her head, trying to lighten the mood. "Alright, boys, let's not kill each other before the next mission, okay?"

Biggs smirked faintly, finally setting down his communicator. "Yeah, we've got enough enemies without turning on each other."

Wedge chuckled nervously. "I just hope I don't get stuck with guard duty next time. Those Shinra goons are scary."

Barret leaned back with a heavy sigh, crossing his arms. "We'll need to hit 'em harder next time. Make 'em feel it where it hurts."

Cloud stared out the window, the dark tunnels rushing past. Barret's words lingered in his mind. He wasn't sure what he believed anymore. The Lifestream, Etro, the gods—he'd grown up hearing whispers of those stories, but they had always felt distant, like fairy tales.

But now… now he wasn't so sure.

The train began to slow as it approached the next stop, the automated voice announcing, "Sector 7 Slums Station. Passengers, please prepare to disembark."

Barret stood, gesturing for the others to follow. "C'mon, AVALANCHE. Let's get movin'. We'll regroup at the hideout."

Jessie, Biggs, and Wedge gathered their things, their movements quick but tired. Cloud followed, keeping to the back of the group.

As they stepped off the train, the air grew heavier. The Sector 7 slums were a stark contrast to the chaos of Sector 8. The streets were quieter, but the weight of poverty and neglect was palpable. Rusted metal shacks leaned against each other like weary old men, their surfaces stained with decades of grime. The smell of oil and damp earth hung in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of food cooking in distant stalls.

Barret led the way, his stride confident despite the uneven ground. "Home sweet home," he muttered.

They passed a group of children playing with a tattered soccer ball, their laughter a rare sound in the gloom. An old woman sat on a wooden crate nearby, knitting a scarf with threadbare yarn.

Cloud glanced around, his mako-infused eyes taking in every detail. The slums were different from what he remembered—rougher, more desperate.

"You don't say much, do you?" Jessie said, falling into step beside him.

Cloud shrugged. "Not much to say."

She smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Well, you did good tonight. We couldn't have done it without you."

Cloud didn't respond. His mind was already drifting, the weight of the flower in his pocket suddenly feeling heavier.

Barret's voice cut through his thoughts. "Keep your head on straight, rookie. We've got a lot more work ahead of us."

Cloud nodded, but as they approached the AVALANCHE hideout, he couldn't shake the feeling that something larger was at play. Barret's talk of the gods, Sephiroth's vision, the flower girl—they all felt connected, like pieces of a puzzle he didn't yet understand.

And as the slums closed in around him, the weight of the planet's pain pressing down on his chest, he knew one thing for certain: this was just the beginning.