Writing of Wrongs

Prologue: Writing of Wrongs
Part 1: For What We Are About to Receive
Chapter I	Editorial Changes
Chapter II 	Insert Chapter Title Here
Chapter III	Biohazard
Part 2: Present Imperfect
Chapter IV 	Ahead on our Way
Chapter V	On That Day, Five Years Ago…
Chapter VI	Feather in the Wind (reprise)
Part 3: World Travel
Chapter VII	Fifteen Heroes on a Dead Man’s Chest
Chapter VIII	The Music of the Night

Prologue: Writing of Wrongs

In the beginning…
In the beginning there was the Void. And God took the Void and fashioned from it a world, neatly spherical and with a nice unfeasible Force called gravity to keep everyone stuck to it. And He put Animals and Plants on it, and eventually worked His way up to what He called homo interessans, or curious man.
And Man grew stronger and More intelligent, and the time came when God decided to run a minor test on him. So He Wrote a book, which He, for want of a Better Name, entitled ‘the Bible.’ But when He released it, Man took it Far too seriously. And so God realised that Man was not ready to interact with literature directly, but He knew that it would be Necessary if Man was to achieve his true potential.
So God retired from the World, and formed Himself a smaller Set of dimensions. And He watched Man for many years, and whenever He found a person finely attuned to literature, He plucked him from the world and Taught him to write the Book of Life.
And now twelve Writers compose the Book of Life. And God edits it, and a group of select Agents make up the Literary Task Force, who head down Unto the world and make sure that things go as God and the Writers have Planned. And Man, down on the world, remains Happily oblivious to the fact that he is merely a Character in a Book, in the great Book of Life, of which we are All but paragraphs.
But of course, as with any book, there are those who wield the pen…

Part 1: For What We Are About to Receive
Chapter I	Editorial Changes

The evil potentiality in any given scenario must be less than, or in extreme cases, equal to, the good potentiality in that scenario, plus or minus any and all bonus characters.
Perigee Roberts,
Discussion of Literary Theorems

In the complex web of theorems and rules that is life, this room is a haven of chaos.
Sign on the door to the Writers’ Chamber

The Writers’ Chamber was in uproar. It may be pointed out that this was, in fact, the usual state of affairs within this room and that the only reason all twelve Writers remained in the same place was simply because none of them wanted to concede defeat and leave. However, this was worse than normal. If the usual arguments were likened to a mild rain shower, this was the sort of storm that would pick up houses and chase their previous owners down the street with them.
It is a minor yet relevant point that the current crisis had absolutely nothing to do with any of them. Normally, each Writer concerned himself or herself only with his or her sphere of expertise, and they tried to minimise discussion, with limited success. Nevertheless, for any cataclysm such as this, they would all band together and argue protractedly about the best course of action, regardless of who had caused it.
They did not even stop shouting at each other when the door at the far end of the room opened slowly, revealing God, who hurried over to His place at the head of the table with a sheaf of papers under His arm and cleared His throat. “Excuse me?” He asked pointedly.
This had precisely no effect whatsoever. God sighed. “Blasphemy,” He muttered gloomily to Himself, and tried again.
“SILENCE, IMPUDENT MORTALS!” He boomed. This time He received a favourable reaction.
“There was no need for that,” muttered a younger Writer to himself, in defiance of the facts.
“Now,” began God, putting the paper down on the table, “you said there was something you wanted me to have a look at.”
“Yes, there is!” exclaimed one particularly irate Writer, standing up and raising one hand in the air in preparation for remonstration. God stared at him and he quietened down. “We received this earlier today,” he explained, handing the Lord a hand-written sheet of paper.
“Greetings to all of you up there at the literary chambers,” the Almighty read out. “You may recall - or at least God may recall - that recently you partook in a real-time strategy game set in a fantasy setting.”
Gaming had become one of God’s hobbies over the last few millennia, usually in a two-player deathmatch against His age-old adversary, the Devil. The two were fairly evenly matched, but anyway. Unfortunately, the two sought the most realistic simulations they could find, and after God’s first triumph in creating the world… None of the Writers condoned His creation of minor worlds in which He could oversee the games. His latest attempt had been “the Mako wars,” a diverting little war scenario set in a world with elements of both fantasy and technology. The Devil had been the victor that time, taking control of the armies of ‘Shinra,’ the more potent yet less accessible team.
“I have reason to believe,” continued the Lord, “that after the game you forgot to erase the planet. It still remains, and therefore falls within your care. There is a man, going by the name of Sephiroth. At some time within the foreseeable future, he will attempt to destroy the planet using the power of a meteor. Obviously I demand that you dispatch an LTF team to prevent this. But there is one more thing I bring to your attention. I can sense the imminent death of a girl, a Cetra, named Aeris. You know what a Cetra is, I assume? You did create the planet, remember. Anyway, I’m sure you can read up on it, but I’m deviating. The girl must not perish. This is imperative. I hate at this late stage to make this message sound like a threat, but there is great power present in this world. I have my own reasons for wishing the girl alive, but they should not concern you. Let me just say that should she die, I will use the power at my hands to cause a major cataclysm on Earth. I would not wish to do this but I will if necessary. Signed: FG.” God lifted His head and looked at the assembled Authors. “Oh dear,” He said mildly.
“Read the postscript,” snapped the Writer who had handed the letter to Him.
“PS. I would be most disappointed if you did not send Team Omega to sort this out. I have heard very great things about them.” He put the paper down and mused for a bit. “FG? Who is FG?”
“The only FG of any importance we have in our files is Fishook Grysley,” explained a bespectacled female Writer from the far end of the table, “but he was suitably erased. We’ve drawn a blank on this one.”
Fishook Grysley had been a Writer himself, quite a while ago. He had lost his title when it was discovered that he had been using his influence to amass a substantial fortune by placing bets on games of chance and then writing the outcomes in his favour. He had acquired roughly the net worth of the United States before being found out. After this, there had been only one suitable punishment. He had been cast down onto Earth but never written into the Book of Life. Cursed to wander for eternity without his life ever being acknowledged by another, he had become nothing more than an anecdote. A warning for Writers to come.
“And Team Omega?” interrupted another Writer. “They were dismissed ages ago after that disaster with the Titanic. Good thing, too. Never did like them myself. That useless little man with the cheek to call himself an Author. And his companions! Pathetic crowd, the lot of them.”
“Well, we need to send someone,” observed a Writer of about sixty.
“I’ve compiled a list of the available teams,” agreed the female Writer, handing God a typed list.
“Hmm…” God scanned down the page quickly and professionally. “Alpha team: away on assignment… Beta team: rest and recuperation after extreme misfortune…” He muttered away to Himself for a few minutes. “Phi team: available… Is that it?”
“I’m afraid so,” affirmed the woman. “They have had some limited experience in these type of affairs, though,” she added, trying to see the situation optimistically.
“Very well,” God acquiesced. “I’ll give the order. I really should have got rid of the world after we finished the game, though.”
“Yes,” said the first Writer pointedly. “You should.”

High above the world, an unusually high build-up of narrative potentiality wavered and burst. A group of four people found themselves standing on air, several thousand miles above the world. Usually this is a euphemism for ‘they started falling a very long way to narrowly escape their deaths,’ but in this case they were really standing on air several thousand miles above the world.
“Ooh, nice world. Lots of green.”
“Yeah, but something’s going to go wrong. It alvays does.”
“So what’re the objectives?”
Perigee Roberts, a tall man wearing a lab coat, removed a folded sheet of paper from a chemical-stained pocket.
“‘Objective 1. Stop the meteor,’” he read out loud.
“Oh right, that’s easy enough. It’s only one meteor,” said another sarcastically. She flipped her brown hair out of her eyes.
“I’m sure there’ll be some footnote that will let us stop it, Ess. This is a narrative, remember?” said Perigee unconvincingly.
“Yeah, yeah, so what’s the next objective?” asked the third, a teenage girl with short blond hair.
“‘Objective 2. Save Aeris.’ Aeris?”
“Vat’s an Aeris?” asked the fourth. He was of average height, with short black hair slicked back, probably with some sort of mousse. He was wearing evening dress and a particularly stylish black velvet cloak. “A kind of vine, maybe? Perhaps a nice red from Bordeaux?” He grinned. His teeth were remarkable, in that his two upper canines were longer than they ought to have been, and probably led to his difficulty pronouncing the letter ‘w.’
“I think that Aeris is a woman, Kea. This world seems somewhat…familiar. At least to me. Meteor…Aeris…hmm.” He pulled a device from his pocket, and spoke into it, while pressing a button labelled ‘D.’
“Could we get a clip of Aeris?”
A screen materialised in front of them, and they watched…

The two ships sailed on, barely a matter of metres from each other.
“Ahar!” yelled the captain of the galleon with the skull and crossbooks motif on its sails, waving his arms in the air menacingly. We’ll cut yer mainsail from yer giblets, yer scurvy sons o’ barnacles! Yer no good fer anything but… yes, what is it?”
A man in an immaculate suit had appeared from below decks and handed him a mobile phone.
“Hello, this is the Author, to whom am I speaking?”
“God here,” said the indistinct voice at the other end. “Glad to see you’re still around.”
“Oh yes, no problems at this end,” the Author replied cheerfully. “We’re just sorting out some matters in the Caribbean at the moment. Anything I can do for you?”
The captain of the other ship leaped onto the prow and roared at him. “Come on, shipmate! We’ll settle this like seadogs!”
The Author absent-mindedly reached out and hit a cannon as hard as he could with one fist, sending a cannonball hurtling towards the unfortunate pirate.
“Well, I do have a slight problem,” God explained sheepishly. “It seems that… erm… I forgot to delete the world when I finished my last game, and now they’re taking matters into their own hands. Basically, we’ve got to save that world, and the only team I could get is really not very good at all.”
“And you want me to come along and help out,” the Author finished for him. “Well, I’ll see what I can do. You’ll have to give me the background, though. I like to be able to integrate into the plot fairly well. Make my guys fairly inconspicuous.”
At this juncture a large black rabbit emerged from the lower levels of the ship, clutching several water biscuits between its ears. It should be pointed out that it was wearing, for some unknown reason, a pair of very stylish sunglasses. Rabbits are not normally known for their fashion sense, but this one was obviously trying to adjust the balance.
“You should try some of these ship’s biscuits,” it munched at him, clambering up his back and perching on his shoulder. “They’re really rather tasty.”
The Author took one from it and tried it. “Not bad,” he agreed.
“Excuse me?” asked the Lord.
“No, I wasn’t talking to you,” replied the Author hastily before the Almighty could take offence. “Could you just keep quiet while I’m talking?”
“Me?” said God.
“No,” snapped the Author emphatically, shaking his head and almost dislodging the rabbit from his shoulder. “I’m arguing with Mr. Big. Remember him? He’s just offered me a biscuit.”
“Oh.” The Lord sounded thoughtful. “Could I try one?”
“Sure,” agreed the rabbit, holding out a ship’s biscuit to the mobile phone. “Ah. This might present some problems.”
“If everyone would just be quiet?” The Author’s normally infinite patience was beginning to run out. “Perhaps it might be a better idea if we continue this conversation face to face.”

Stars, flung throughout the endless reaches of space. In the distance, one flares bright red, then collapses into nothingness. Then another does the same. And another. Soon, the universe is filled with red, the stars seeming to dance…
But the camera pauses, and adjusts for distance. The blaze fades, and on the other side a woman’s face is revealed.
A voice is heard.
“Oh no…” breathed the chemist.
“Sssh!” hissed the teenager. “I want to watch.”
The woman stands, and pulls her threadbare coat tightly around her. As she walks away from the crackling bonfire, the camera pans away, out of the alley and up, until she is lost among the seething suburbs of a vast, metallic city.
The orchestra flares up, on cue. Then the lights gradually dim, leaving only darkness, which soon gives way to static.

The chemist sighed again, and flicked a button on the screen. It blinked out of existence, returning to wherever it had appeared from. “We’ve really got our work cut out for us. For reasons we haven’t got time to go into, I know exactly what would have happened if we hadn’t been sent here. We ought to be able to change the series of events, but it won’t be easy. Literature tends to have a lot of inertia. I won’t worry you with my knowledge, but I will say this: be careful.”
“Perigee?” asked Ess.
“Yes?” replied the chemist.
“We aren’t guaranteed to all arrive in the same place, are we.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes, that’s right,” answered Perigee, unnecessarily.
“So we could be separated.”
“Don’t worry,” Perigee assured her. “I’ll be fine.” He wasn’t the most sensitive person ever created.
Ess frowned, and wondered, not for the first time, why she put up with him. They had been together ever since they had met back at the Titanic disaster. That had been the first time for both of them on a mission, and they had both felt…well, a little insecure.
“I’ll be okay too, I guess,” she said finally.
“Enough with the mushy stuff!” exclaimed the teenager. “C’mon, can’t we pick jobs now?”
“Hey, Kasuto, what do you vant to be?” asked Kea.
“I dunno. Maybe a thief or a ninja or something. It’s boring always being a princess.”
“I’d like to be a spy. Perigee, is there an Empire on this vorld somewhere?”
“Yeah, there’s a big megacorporation. But…”
“Are there any tanks on this world? Tanks are always fun.”
“I’m not in th…”
“Everyone be quiet!” shouted Perigee.
There was silence.
“Right. You will assume your characters, no matter who or where they are. We will reconvene as and when the plot dictates. Everybody ready?” The others nodded. “Good.” He inspected the device he was still holding in his hand, and eventually pressed the ‘X’ button.
The four vanished, and silence reigned, broken only by the sound of the reader mentally attaching the last few lines to characters, and finding that there aren’t enough to go around.

“Commander Roberts,” read the Author. “Age: 24. Time with LTF: 5 years. Prior occupation: chemist. Rank: Commanding officer of phi team…” His voice trailed off as he scanned the rest of the page quickly and efficiently. “Hmm. I bet that with people like him around, you wish you had me back.”
“Occasionally, yes,” God admitted from his seat on his heavenly throne, several metres above the clouds on which the Author and his group were standing, “but whenever I feel like that, I just think of what happened to the Titanic and suddenly I’m extremely relieved to have got rid of you.”
“Look,” the Author snapped, in an uncharacteristic moment of annoyance, “that was an accident. You know that as well as I do. The Major just got a bit overexcitable with the Blunderbuss.”
“Eh? What?” bellowed an elderly campaigner of over 90, wearing a dark green jacket, a well-polished pair of British army boots, a line of medals roughly four feet long across his chest, and a round leather hat with a spike on it. He had previously been standing on the edge of the cloud, looking down in case of Jerry air attacks, while God and the Author talked business, but now he strode forwards, waving his battle sabre in the air. This sabre was an extraordinary weapon. It was about as sharp, efficient and dangerous as its owner.
“What’s this about the Blunderbuss, old beans?” he asked concernedly. “You can’t talk about it behind my back, you know. Why, we’ve fought together for years, me and this Blunderbuss, what?”
“You killed over one and a half thousand people when all you were meant to be doing was helping two of them fall in love,” God reminded him flatly.
“Oh, yes. Haha.” The Major was obviously embarrassed. “Whoops.”
“Anyway,” God turned back to the Author, “I admit that you were one of our best, but every now and then you would produce a truly cataclysmic blunder. That Titanic affair was the last straw. Every single one of the Writers went on strike until I got rid of you.”
“So I assume they don’t know you’ve called me in for this,” stated the Author. God shook His head.
“Of course not. I don’t like the look of this, so I wanted to bring in the best,” he explained. “As I said, you are the best… occasionally. Please, don’t mess this one up. I dread to think what could happen if whoever wrote that letter carries out his threat.”
“Might it not be a reasonable idea to investigate the source of the letter?” suggested the suited man previously seen on board the Author’s pirate ship. “I, would advise you to dispatch one of your many operations teams to uncover his identity.”
God nodded. “I’m hoping that he’ll be waiting around in that world to make sure that everything goes as he hopes. I want you to keep an eye out for anyone who looks like they might have some kind of interest in the Cetra girl.”
“This may seem like a bit of a stupid question,” commented a man wearing an overlarge beige trenchcoat and an expression of naïve stupidity, “but how are we going to recognise this person? All we know is that he… or she,” he added in a moment of political correctness, “signs himself… or herself, as FG.”
“We’ll just do what we normally do, Croft,” the Author told him. “You know us. Sooner or later we run into everyone important.”

A train pulled up to a quiet station in the north of Midgar. A rusty sign swung half-heartedly in the breeze created by the train’s arrival. The sign declared that this was ‘Upper Sector 1 - Authorised Personnel Only.’ But it was rare that any unauthorised personnel got this far anyway. Shinra had installed an identification system some years ago that could check the personal details and background of any passenger on a train, and set off alarms if the wrong people were on the wrong train. It was fairly efficient, although there were rumours that it was going to be upgraded soon. As it was, it was a fairly bored and unsuspecting guard who was interrupted during his routine inspection of the train by a hefty black man jumping off the roof onto his head.
“Awlright! Let’s get this show on the road!” shouted the man. A few people appeared from various carriages of the train, and in an obviously precalculated manoeuvre, ran towards the station’s exit. Almost as an afterthought, the train disgorged one more man. He would probably describe himself as tall, but most others would think of him as being merely tallish. His hair was an almost yellow blonde, formed into an unusual spiky hairstyle that brushed against the bottom of the sign and gave it the first cleaning it had seen in years. His eyes were a deep shade of blue, but they glowed faintly, and there was little compassion in his expression.
A second guard appeared from the hut, saying, “Hey, Glenn! Haven’t you finished that inspection yet? It’s your turn!”
The blond man unsheathed a ridiculously large sword and brought it around in one smooth movement, relieving the guard of his boredom. Apparently satisfied that all threats were removed, he returned the sword to its holster on his back. Then he ambled casually in the direction the black man had gone.
He eventually caught up to the others when they stopped outside a large steel gate, the entrance to the Sector 1 Reactor. One of them, a woman with medium-length light brown hair, was inspecting a computer terminal next to the door. The blond man sighed, and prepared to wait. These amateurs couldn’t be expected to do anything quickly.
A short, rotund man turned to him and said, “Hey, you’re new, aren’t you? I’m Wedge. Nice to meet you. You’re…the ex-SOLDIER that Barret can’t stand, right?” This idiot had that much right, at least, thought the blond man. For some reason, the black man had taken an instant dislike to him.
He gave Wedge a cold stare. “The name’s Cloud. Listen, I don’t care what your names are. We blow this reactor, then I’m out of here.”
“Oh…sorry,” said Wedge nervously.
“Alright, this ought to do it,” said the woman. Cloud brightened up slightly at the sound of her voice. He could remember her name, now he came to think about it. Jessie. Maybe he might hang around, after all…
The opened slowly, and slid open, allowing the group into the reactor. Again, most ran ahead, while Cloud lagged behind. Barret skidded to a halt, then turned and shouted at him.
“C’mon, hurry up! We wanna knock out this reactor tonight! What’s the matter with ya, got bricks in those baggy pants of yours?”
Cloud frowned, and sped up to a brisk walk. Barret growled quietly to himself. Okay, so maybe this kid was ex-Shinra, a big-shot ex-SOLDIER even, but he was working for AVALANCHE now. Needed to respect his superiors. After all, who was in charge, the kid or him? Now take that other guy who’d just joined. Whatshisname, Perigee. He’d worked for Shinra, but he was showing real devotion to the terrorists. Barret was proud of him. Perigee might not be the most clued-up guy, but he sure knew his science. And he followed orders.
The terrorists stopped again at the junction of a narrow catwalk, and awaited directions, which Barret was more than happy to supply.
“Okay,” he announced. “I’m gonna plant the bomb. Wedge, you secure an escape route.” Wedge saluted, and waddled off. “Perigee, you go shut off security.” Perigee nodded. “Jessie, Cloud.” The two remaining terrorists acknowledged him. “You’re with me.”

Perigee leaned against the wall with his eyes shut, immersed in thought. The problem with knowing the original outcome of this plot was that his knowledge would become less and less accurate as time passed. That was why he hadn’t disabled the security; it was better to make as few changes as possible. The reason why they were there was, of course, to change things, but even their very arrival and existence in this world would change things, because of chaos theory.
He checked his watch, and a siren began to wail. Right on time. Good, no deviations yet…But the alarm faltered, and died away with a pathetic “Eeeeeoooooooooo.…” Perigee frowned. Disturbances this early most likely meant that the narrative would spiral away from predictability even sooner and more wildly than he had thought. In a couple of weeks, he calculated, his knowledge would be completely useless. He had to try to keep the plot on course as much as possible, so that when the time came when a change had to happen, he would be able to choose the results. For example, if Aeris and Cloud didn’t meet, then there was no guessing whether the scene at the City of the Ancients would occur or not. It might happen in Nibelheim, or even here in Midgar. But so long as they stuck to the original plot as much as possible, then he’d know what changes would be needed to stop Aeris’ death.
It was always good to check your assumptions, though. Another explanation for the failing of that alarm was that, for example, something in the past had changed because of the LTF. Of course, within this plot, the only literarily relevant event was the scene at Nibelheim. Well, another explanation was that one of the Writers was personally helping them, but how likely was that?
From the shadows two pairs of eyes watched him curiously, one blinding white, the other jet-black…

Some considerable distance away, on the forty-second floor of the Shinra company HQ, a man dressed in a suit watched the progress of the terrorists on a security monitor with a degree of mild interest. He couldn’t help noticing how incompetent they seemed to be. As far as he was concerned, if it had been him trying to take out the reactor, it would have been over and done several minutes ago.
“Uh… sir?” squeaked a subordinate standing in the doorway. The suited man calmly reached over and flicked a switch next to the monitor, which promptly flickered and started displaying adverts.
“Yes?” he snapped irritably.
“Sir… the President has requested a meeting with you. Um… he says he wants to know how the -”
“Very well,” the man replied before another word could be said. “I, will join him in his own time.”
It was an unusual quirk of the Shinra Director of Finance that, although he was undoubtedly a phenomenally clever businessman and generally far too intelligent for his own good, he seemed to have only a limited grasp of the English language, in that he almost constantly referred to himself in the third person. The fact that his first name was, “I,” complicated the issue.
Almost immediately after the messenger had left, I,’s jacket pocket started playing a loud synthesised melody. Those who knew the original tune might have recognised it as an extract from the song, ‘Money for Nothing.’
I, reached into his jacket and brought out a small mobile phone. He pressed a button on it and lifted to his ear.
“Caroussis? Is that you?” it enquired. “How’s it going?”
“They are proceeding slowly,” the Director of Finance informed whoever he was speaking to, “and have placed their explosive. By I,’s estimation, they should be outside the established perimeter within the next ten minutes.”
“Okay, thanks for informing me,” replied the voice, and hung up.
I, Caroussis put his phone back in his pocket and shook his head. Theoretically, of course, the man he had just held a conversation with was his superior, but it was part of I,’s essential personality that he treated everyone, no matter how important, as the insignificant minors they were.
He turned towards the door and headed off towards the President’s suite.

Perigee was waiting with Wedge when the others re-emerged from the reactor core, coloured with varying shades of ‘scorched.’
“I’m sorry, there was one robot I couldn’t deactivate,” apologised Perigee. “It was sort of a…”
“…scorpion thing?” supplied Jessie.
“Oh, so it found you, then.”
“Listen,” interjected Barret. “We gotta get movin’. That bomb ain’t gonna wait for us to get outta here.”
Wedge nodded. “Well, let’s go. Shinra have probably sent SOLDIER by now, so we shouldn’t leave through the front door. But I think we can get out through the sewers.”

“Ah, I,.” The President did his best to look pleased at seeing his subordinate, but it wasn’t easy. Very few people had mastered the art of actually liking Caroussis.
I, gave him a stare that said, simply, “What I, would not understand, if indeed there were anything that I, did not understand, is why, based entirely on intellectual merit, you have come to be his superior. However, I, must warn you not to press this privilege to any degree, otherwise you may find yourself to be the unwilling target of a hostile takeover.” It was a stare that I, had perfected over a couple of years, to save himself the trouble of saying it at the beginning of every company meeting.
Those who have been following the complexities of the integration of the LTF agents, and I appreciate that there may not be that many of you, may be wondering about the fact that I, Caroussis seems to have a Past. In the game, that is. Well, suffice to say that I, takes a certain amount of pride in his plot integration, more so, perhaps, than even the Author. Besides, sorting out a Past with Shinra effectively required him to have spent the last two or three years actually taking part in the game as an NPC. This sort of thing is pretty much routine for LTF agents, but the Author had allowed himself and his group to get out of the habit and only bothered when it was absolutely necessary.
I hope that clarifies things to a certain extent. Please, don’t concern yourself overly about it. It’s really not that important.
“I am interested to know the exact progress of Project Overseer,” the President told him, rather uncertainly. He pulled himself together. “From what I have recently learned from Hojo, the experiments involving telekinetics have been surprisingly successful.”
I, produced a small platinum notepad from within his jacket and read off the top sheet.
“While the theory may be reasonably sound,” he explained, “there are considerable drawbacks involving practicalities and finances. I, is afraid that the company resources would most likely not stretch to supporting more than one or two of the remote systems. Of course, I,’s personal finances would have no difficulties, but that is beside the point. We both know that the agreement made when he joined this company was that his outside affairs would have no bearing on his business within. Also, taking into account the current state of technology, constructing a facsimile human with sufficient detail to be regularly mistaken for the genuine article would, sadly, involve the robot being at least twelve feet high, if all the necessary components were to be fitted inside.”
The President paused for a moment. Usually this was necessary to dissect and understand I,’s speeches.
“So what you’re saying,” he said after a while, “is that, despite the obvious potential of mind control for robotic spies, we can’t actually put it into practice?”
I, nodded. “Precisely. Technically, the host machine could be fitted into a shell approximately four or five feet high, assuming it to be almost spherical. However, there are still financial difficulties and I, would suggest that the company’s limited funds are better spent on more productive schemes. I, should point out, on the other hand,” he added finally, “that I, has come up with one or two more… viable alternatives.”

As the terrorists left the reactor, a man in a black cloak turned to his companion.
“Well?” he asked.
“Hmm…” The other thought for a moment. “Not the most efficient group, are they? I’d have expected them to get themselves captured or killed fairly soon.”
“I would agree,” admitted the man, “but they’re going to be important. The men, at least. You can trust me on that. I can sense these things.”
The other nodded agreement. His sunglasses threatened to fall off, and he steadied them.
“Not the girl then?” His voice made his disappointment clear. He had an eye for any reasonably attractive female.
“Afraid not,” the man replied. “Don’t worry, though. I’m sure this Aeris person will be more than beautiful enough to satisfy your instincts - when she turns up. I wonder how long that’ll be?”
“The sooner the better,” muttered the companion earnestly.

The end of a large sewage pipe leading from the Sector 1 reactor exploded violently, without warning. A rather grubby group of terrorists soon exited the pipe, quickly flinging themselves in some of the many puddles conveniently dispersed around the area, extinguishing the flames that were scorching most of them. After a few minutes, Cloud looked up from his puddle and asked, “So when do we get paid?”
Barret frowned. “Wait ‘til we get back to the hideout. We’ll sort out the pay then,” he said peevishly. Perigee shook his head sadly. Cloud was going to realise soon enough that money wasn’t everything.
“Come on, let’s get going. We don’t want to be around here when Shinra security shows up,” warned Perigee. “The last train is leaving soon from a station about five minutes from here. We’d better hurry.”
Without undue effort, the self-nominated saviours of the Planet slowly got organised and then set off into the polluted night of Midgar.
Perigee turned a blind corner too quickly and accidentally crashed into a blonde woman, knocking her to the ground “Oh, sorry,” he said, as the other members of AVALANCHE passed them, oblivious to Perigee’s plight.
“No no, it’s my fault. I wasn’t paying attention,” replied the woman.
Perigee looked at her properly for the first time, and with a growing sense of horror, began to realise what he had done. His left eye began twitching uncontrollably. “Sorry, “ he said again, this time with true sincerity. Then he leapt up and dashed off.
The woman watched him disappear round a corner, waving his arms around in a state of extreme agitation. She shook her head sadly and made as if to pick herself up.
A hand reached down to her, and she took it before even looking at who this stranger was. When she did, it was all she could do not to show her shock. The man helping her to her feet was dressed solely in a black cloak, with rather over-padded shoulders. But his eyes… To say that they glowed would be an understatement. They were almost like two small stars.
“Some people,” commented the man noncommittally as she dusted herself off. “Are you okay?”
She smiled. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Thank you.”
“Anything for an attractive girl,” he said, and smiled back. “Now, I must be getting off. Hopefully I’ll bump into you… sorry, bad metaphor…”
“Oh, flowers!” said a voice that seemed to be coming from his shoulder. “Do you have any vegetables? Carrots? Lettuce?”
“Sorry, no.” She reached into her basket and produced a particularly pleasant blue bloom. “Would you like one of these? They’re only a gil…?”
“I haven’t seen many of these around here,” he replied, taking it from her and inspecting it in the light from his eyes. “A gil? You could get away with asking for a lot more. Here.”
He reached out, and she heard the clinking of what sounded like a large number of coins falling into the basket. It was always nice to meet someone genuinely concerned with the welfare of others for a change. Someone like her, really.
“I don’t do it for money,” she told him. “I do it to try and bring a little colour into people’s lives.”
The man shrugged. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, doing it in a place like this. Good luck to you.”
As the two parted and wandered off in their separate directions, the man turned his head and glared at his shoulder. “From now on, you will let me handle conversations, okay?”
“Fine,” sighed the voice. “Who was she, anyway? Good looker, in my unbiased opinion.”
“No idea,” admitted the man. “Probably no one important.”

Perigee sat silently in the train carriage and let the conversation of the others wash over him. This was all going horribly wrong, and so soon! Cloud hadn’t met Aeris, hadn’t missed the train, hadn’t really done anything. And he hadn’t heard from the others since their plot integration. It had been entirely his fault. He shook his head, as if to disperse the gloom filling it and slowly turning his brain to lint. He looked up to see Cloud and Jessie talking animatedly at the other end of the carriage. To top it all off, Cloud was getting interested in the wrong girl. Well, at least Tifa ought to distract his sufficiently to stop him from doing anything too rash. He shook his head, and decided he’d sleep for the rest of the journey. Entering a narrative always made him tired.

*	*	*	*	*

Barret stormed noisily into the Seventh Heaven, one of Sector 7’s more well-known bars, and glared at the regular clientele. “Awright, everyone! Happy hour’s over, now get out!”
It really was remarkable how rapidly the bar emptied. Admittedly, the appearance of a huge black man with a machine gun could cause anyone to reconsider the idea of another pint, and most of the people in the area knew what it meant when Barret returned, but still.
The lone barmaid watched the regulars disappear with a slightly worried expression as she ambled sedately between the tables, collecting all the half-empty glasses and taking them back to the bar where they belonged. She noticeably cheered up, though, when Cloud entered. The few drinkers who were either too stupid or too drunk to notice Barret made up their minds upon seeing his rather ridiculously large sword and left hurriedly.
“I was worried about you,” she said quietly to him as he pulled back a chair and slumped on it, resting his feet on the table in front of him.
Cloud shrugged. “Why? That wasn’t even difficult. I was First Class, remember?”
She looked up as Perigee sidled gloomily in and leaned up against a wall. It didn’t take much to spot that he wasn’t exactly in the best of moods.
“What happened to him?” she asked. Once again Cloud shrugged. It was a gesture that he was particularly good at.
“Dunno,” he admitted. “He’s been like that all the way back. He must have seen something to upset him in the reactor, I guess.”
“Hey, Tifa!” Barret interrupted. “Where’s Marlene?”
The barmaid pointed towards the stairs in the back. “She was having difficulty staying awake so she went off to bed,” she explained, while behind her Perigee stared for a few moments and then broke down and started crying quietly to himself.
Any further discussion, however, was disrupted by the entrance of a fairly tall man in a black cloak. Tifa couldn’t hold back a shudder at the memories it brought, but at least this man was definitely not who she at first dreaded it was. He had short black hair, for a start, and his eyes burned with an intense white glow.
“Get me a drink,” he snapped at her. “Anything.”
Barret rounded on him. Obviously this guy was new around here. The locals had long since realised when it was not in their best interests to be in the Seventh Heaven. There was sort of an…unspoken agreement.
“We’re closed,” he growled.
“Oh, sorry.” The man seemed genuinely embarrassed. “I must have missed the sign, I’ll come back later when… Hang on.” He looked thoughtful. “I’m acting out of character, aren’t I? I’ll come in again.”
He stalked out, and re-entered a few seconds later, flashing Tifa a brief apologetic smile before his face reverted to its original impassive expression.
“Get me a drink,” he snapped at her. “Anything.”
The six of them stared at him.
“Oh, fine.” He threw his hands up in a gesture of exasperation and left for the second time.
“Weirdo,” commented Jessie pensively.
“Wha’ever,” Barret replied, unconcerned. “C’mon, all of you. I want ta talk to you downstairs.”
He waddled over to a rusting pinball machine with only three legs remaining and hit it, knocking it over. Slowly and noisily, a small section of floor descended downwards, revealing a small chamber below. Ignoring the possibilities of using the section as a lift, he simply hopped through the hole. Wedge, Jessie, and Cloud followed, and Perigee took the time to climb down rather more carefully.
Tifa watched them go, sighed to herself, and went to clean the glasses.
After a few moments, a large black rabbit sidled into the bar, obviously trying to make itself seem inconspicuous. This would have been easier had it removed the trendy sunglasses it sported, but apparently it was very attached to them. It stopped in the shadow of a table, looked around it, and spotted Tifa.
Obviously it was impressed. In fact, it took it several seconds to tear its gaze away from her…abundant femininity, shall we say? - and return to the task in hand, or, as is perhaps a more appropriate phrase, in paw. After examining the interior in more detail, it spotted the sole window, through which could be seen the man with the glowing eyes. He pointed towards the lift and made frantic ‘hurry up’ motions.
The rabbit nodded unhurriedly. It indicated Tifa with one ear, raised its sunglasses and mouthed, “Phwoah.”
The man shook his head in a gesture of annoyance and disappeared from view. Mr. Big - it will be assumed from now on that the reader has realised that this rabbit is, in fact, the same one previously seen talking to the Author a few pages back. The sunglasses are something of a giveaway, really - hopped silently to the hole in the floor, and, with one last lingering glance at Tifa, leaped down.

Nighttime in the Midgar slums was an eerie experience. The exact reason was hard to identify, but perhaps a likely candidate was the strange feeling that one was still, somehow, inside, even if one slept out on the streets, as many did. Perhaps that one knew exactly when the ‘sun’ would come up - most people set their watches by the lights embedded in the plate above. Perhaps the fact that strange creatures prowled around in the more run-down areas, despite Shinra’s attempts to eradicate them.
There was a small patch of light behind the Seventh Heaven. In the centre was a man in a black cloak, and it was his glowing eyes that were illuminating the area. He was trying to play Patience, although this was difficult because whenever he looked straight at a card he lit it up to such an extent that he couldn’t tell what suit it was.
He looked up as a small black shape made its way through the gloom and lay down next to him.
“Well?” he asked, professionally forming the cards back into a deck and putting it inside his cloak.
Mr. Big shook his head. “Didn’t find out too much, I’m afraid,” he admitted gloomily. “I can tell you their names and what they’re trying to do, but with regards to an Aeris, absolutely…” He paused. “Would you mind turning your eyes off? They’re giving me lens glare.”
“Sorry.” The man reached up to the side of his head and flipped a tiny switch on a black box concealed behind his ear, causing the specially written luminescent contact lenses he was wearing to flicker and fade. Had it been during the day, this would have revealed the rather pleasant brown shade of his eyes, but as it was it just plunged the slums back into darkness. “Anyway, you were saying?”
“Let’s see now…” The rabbit collected his thoughts. “The big man with the gun, he’s Barret. That guy with the sword’s called Cloud for some reason. Then there’s Wedge, Jessie, and that scientist guy’s Perigee. Couldn’t find out what the barmaid’s called. Shame, though. I’ll make sure I get her number when I do.”
The man would have given Mr. Big a sarcastic glance, but as it was pitch-black he reasoned it probably wasn’t worth it.
“I wonder if she’s Aeris?” he mused.
“Possibly,” agreed Mr. Big sagely. “Anyway, they call their group Avalanche -”
“The snowball effect,” murmured the man.
“You what?”
“They start off as something pathetically small, but escalate into a force to be reckoned with. I think that might be what they’re trying to imply.”
“Oh.” Mr. Big considered this. “I don’t think they’re clever enough to come up with that sort of thing. Moving on, from what I gathered, they seem to think that the Shinra company’s reactors - Mako or Moko or something like that - are draining life out of the planet, so they’re trying to stop it by blowing them up, one by one. I think they’re going to go for number 5 tomorrow.”
“Hmm…” The man considered this. “I’ll have to talk to I, and see whether the reactors really are killing the planet.” He stopped for a second and looked thoughtful. “I wonder if you can kill a planet? Interesting thought. But good work, nonetheless. If they’re going on another mission tomorrow, perhaps we should follow and see if we can integrate with them. As I said earlier, they’re important characters, so I would expect either that woman in there is Aeris, or they’ll come into contact with her fairly soon. Well done. You make a surprisingly good spy.”
There was a rather long silence, finally broken by Mr. Big.
“Author?” he asked.
“Hmm?”
“Are you actually going to sleep here?”
The Author sat up. “Of course. We want to make sure we’re near them when they set off. Don’t want to get lost or anything.”
“Ah.” Mr. Big nodded sagely. “Good thinking, that man.”
“It’s only to be expected,” the Author replied, lying down and using his cloak as a pillow. “After all, I am the Author.”

Chapter II 	Insert Chapter Title Here

I really think you should do the quote for this chapter.
Mike Dixon, attrib.
Writing of Wrongs

Perigee awoke. The makeshift cots set up in the basement of Seventh Heaven weren’t the most comfortable ever designed, but they were better than nothing. He sat up, and looked around blearily. Cloud was still asleep, and from the discordant sounds of singing emanating from the pipes, Barret was taking a shower. Tifa was probably upstairs, then.
Perhaps I should remind her of what she’s supposed to be doing, mused Perigee. After all that’s happened, or more precisely, hasn’t happened, maybe the plot could do with a nudge or two.
He climbed onto the protesting pinball machine, and pressed the ‘up’ button.

Tifa looked up when she heard the lift arriving, but relaxed when she saw who it was. Perigee, in a moment of rare perception, or perhaps prediction, noticed this and shrewdly asked, “Expecting someone else?”
She shook her head, but Perigee kept looking at her. She gave in.
“Oh alright. I was hoping it was Cloud.”
“Not this early. I’m sure he was awake most of the night because of Barret’s snoring. I know I was.”
Tifa laughed. “Yeah, I know what you mean. So…did you want something?”
“Well…yes, actually.” There was one thing that hadn’t really been made clear. Well, there were several, but at least he could clear up one right now. Plus, there was a chance to make his own character a bit more believable. “Cloud joined SOLDIER after he left Nibelheim, right? Then he worked his way up to SOLDIER, First Class?”
“How did you know that?”
“I worked at Shinra a few years ago. In the Mako R&D department. We were supposed to keep an eye on all SOLDIER, First Class members, in case we could find some more about the effects of Mako on humans.”
“Oh. Well, y-yes, that’s what Cloud told me,” stuttered Tifa.
“Don’t you believe him? I mean now that he’s made a name for himself. He wouldn’t lie about that, would he?” Perigee grinned inwardly. This would be easier than he had thought.
“Well…he did say…” said Tifa, uncertainly.
“It should be easy enough to find out. Cloud seems like a man of his word. Why don’t you just get him to promise you that he’s a big hero now?”
Tifa blinked. “Yes…a promise. That would work perfectly. Thanks, Perigee.”
He smiled at her, then walked out of the bar. Now that that was over, he might as well get the few materia they’d need for the next mission, and that shop around the corner would be ideal.

The pinball machine grumbled, and lowered into the cellar. It returned shortly, bringing a very tired-looking Cloud with it. He noticed Tifa behind the bar, and asked, “‘ve you got ‘ny coffee?”
“Yes, three sorts. Decaf, Regular, and Bahamut. You want the Bahamut, right?”
Cloud nodded. He sat down wordlessly on one of the stools at the bar while Tifa started making the coffee.
“Say, Cloud…?”
“‘s?”
“I want to go with you on the mission today.”
“Hmm?”
“I want to go with you on the mission today.”
“‘k.”
She handed him the coffee.
“Well, I wanted to see more of you, since…what?”
He paused, the cup halfway to his lips. “I said ‘k. ‘S’okay ‘f you come along.”
“Oh…” Cloud slurped at the coffee, and suddenly sat up straight. The fact that he was on a backless stool meant that his sudden movement flung him backwards, and he landed in an undignified heap on the floor.
He got up, brushing the dust off of his shirt, and smiled at Tifa. “Thanks. You’ve got to tell me where you buy that stuff. Listen, I’m going to go get some Tents, in case we get tired. I’ll be at the item shop if anyone needs me.”
She managed to smile weakly back at him. Oh well, she’d bring up the promise later. Barret would be out of the shower soon, and then they’d be off.

“I think we really should be getting going now,” Mr. Big observed, watching the group assemble at the station out of the corner of his eye. “It’s quite late, you know.”
The Author snored at him.
“Up! Up! Up!” shouted the rabbit in desperation. “Come on, you said yourself we need to follow them closely.”
Still no response.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” muttered Mr. Big, proceeding to beat the Author about the face with his ears.
The Author stirred.
“Hmm?” he murmured, sitting up. “What time is… oh.” He spotted AVALANCHE boarding the train, and his brain immediately fired up and accelerated away. “Let’s get moving then, shall we?” He stood up, dusted off his cloak, and placed Mr. Big firmly yet gently on his shoulder, covering him with the cloak.
“Don’t forget to turn your eyes on,” said a muffled voice from his shoulder. The Author nodded, reached up and flicked the switch for his eyes, upon which they crackled and slowly began to glow.
“Thanks,” he said, and strode off.

“Where’s Perigee got to?” asked Tifa, leaning against one of the luggage racks in the train carriage. “We should be leaving in a few minutes, shouldn’t we?”
“He said he was going to get something,” Jessie replied. “I’m sure he’ll -”
“Sorry I’m late,” Perigee interrupted, charging into the carriage and skidding to a halt in front of Barret. He reached down to a plastic carrier bag he carried under his arm bearing the logo of, ‘Macc’s Materia,’ and produced a handful of iridescent green orbs. “I thought we could do with a few materia, in case things start to get nasty. Let’s see, I’ve got a Fire, an Ice, a Lightning, and three Restores.” He caught Barret’s stare. “Well, they were doing a two for the price of three offer, so… Hang on, that doesn’t make sense…”
“Don’t worry about it,” Tifa said quickly before Barret could make a nasty comment. “I’ll have Ice, if no one else wants it.”
“Fine by me.” Cloud shrugged. “I’ll take Lightning.”
“Damnit! That means I get… hey, that means I get Fire!” said Barret, cheering up towards the end of the sentence. “C’mon, let’s go give the Shinra some!”
“Barret, we’ve got to wait ‘til the train leaves first,” Tifa reminded him reproachfully.
“Oh, yeah. Well… c’mon, let’s go find a seat!”
The train shuddered into life as they made their way into the first carriage. Perigee wasn’t particularly adept on his feet and almost fell over backwards as it accelerated.
“You should be more careful,” Jessie commented shyly, catching him and propping him up. “Don’t want to get hurt this early in the mission.”
“Yeah, we gotta be on top form for this!” Barret agreed. He scanned the carriage. Almost all of the seats were taken up by sleeping tramps, who, having no real home to go to, tended to live on the Midgar transport network on a permanent basis. It wasn’t too bad a life, as one that Perigee had quizzed a while back had observed. Flexible working hours, meet lots of new faces, plenty of opportunities to travel…
Barret respected these guys. He nodded to the others and, wordlessly, they headed into the second car.
“Right,” he said as soon as they entered. “We’re travellin’ in this one.”
Other people who didn’t know Barret quite as well as the members of AVALANCHE did might have pointed out that every seat here was taken. However, one of them was occupied - temporarily - by a smartly-dressed Shinra executive.
Barret put on his best ‘yo’ say sumthin’?’ face and ambled over to him. He leaned nonchalantly on one of the walls and did his utmost to loom imposingly.
“Yo’ say sumthin’?” he enquired.
Rather to his surprise, the man calmly glanced up from his newspaper and scrutinised him carefully. That wasn’t meant to happen. In most situations like this, the unfortunate individual was too terrified even to say anything, and usually needed to be rescued by Jessie or one of the others.
“Not as far as I, is aware,” he replied flatly. “If, however, I, did so without meaning to, I, apologises profusely for having disturbed you. However, currently you are disturbing I,, and it would be in your best interests to leave now. Good day.” He settled back into his seat and returned his full attention to the shares page.
Brighter characters than Barret might have realised at this stage that they were facing an intellectual superior and backed down, but as far as Barret was concerned he damn well wasn’t going to lose this dispute.
“Yo’ know who I am?” he asked.
The man sighed, folded his paper up, and placed it next to him. “I, has seen pictures of you in the company files, yes. I, believes the document was headed, ‘insignificant annoyances.’” He waved a hand haughtily. “Begone, fool.”
“Foo’? FOO’? Yo’ know we blew yo’ damn reactor yesterday? Yo’ think yo’ can call us insifgn… infigsin… wha’ever!”
“Destroyed the reactor?” I, laughed harshly. “Yes, you and every other dissenter group in the city, if we were to believe you. Everyone knows perfectly well the core overheated. Everyone except you fools, it seems.”
The other members of AVALANCHE exchanged slightly amused glances. It certainly would be an experience to see Barret lose an argument like this.
“You… grr… The hell you so calm!” Barret exclaimed. He appeared to be seriously considering sending this guy to the next world. “You bustin’ up my rhythm?”
“Apparently.” I, nodded towards Barret’s gun-arm. “May I, suggest you refrain from doing anything regrettable with that? While the loss of I,’s life would not unduly concern the company, he is sure that the loss of yours would be a relatively important event, in your small scale of things. I, strongly suggests you leave now before I, is forced to -”
“You ain’t doin’ nothin’!” Barret shouted, disengaging the safety catch on his arm. “That does it, I’ve had enough!”
The executive brought his hands together and cracked his knuckles loudly. “So.” He leaned forwards until their eyes were barely an inch apart. “You, my friend, are ‘doin’ nothin’,’ as you so eloquently put it. Do you honestly believe that I, would be talking to you if I, actually believed there was any danger of you harming him? You are a waste of space, my man. It is people like you that make I, wonder exactly why this city uses two plates when we could quite easily remove all people such as you and fit the remainder on one. Your life looks to be a long series of arguments and nothing actually carried out. Perhaps I,’s opinion may have been changed had you fired one shot, but so far I, is unimpressed. Now kindly leave I, alone. I, actually has some work to get done.”
“You - what the?” Barret exclaimed as the interior of the train was bathed in an eerie red light. “You! You did this, didn’t yo’?”
The man smiled wanly and shrugged.
“It’s the ID check!” Jessie called, running up to them. “Something must have gone wrong! We need to get off the train before they lock us in!”
“You ain’t gonna get away with this!” Barret shouted over his shoulder as the group bundled themselves through the door at the far end of the carriage, nearly crashing into the black-cloaked man who ran through in the opposite direction and skidded to a halt next to I,.
“I thought you said you’d got their ID’s sorted out!” he exclaimed. I, nodded calmly.
“I, has,” he stated flatly.
“So…” The Author (the man in the cloak, for the less astute readers) thought for a moment. “So if the ID check hasn’t detected them, then what’s going… oh.”
I, nodded again, sat down on his seat, and picked up his newspaper once more. “If you had required your ID to be verified, you should have asked I,.”
“Warning! Unauthorised passenger detected in car B!” a voice from the ceiling informed them. “Commencing lockdown!”
The Author considered this. “See you,” he said eventually, and ran after AVALANCHE.

“C’mon!” Barret shouted at Perigee, down at the far end of the train. “We gotta jump or the Shinra’ll lock us in here!”
“Um…” Perigee was pretty certain that there were a few things more stupid than jumping off a moving train into a tunnel, but right now none were quite as… ‘in his face’ was perhaps an appropriate term. He was absolutely certain, however, that he didn’t want Barret in his face either. A phrase referring to a frying pan and a fire springs immediately to mind.
Cloud sighed, gripped the scientist round the waist with one arm, and threw himself through the open door into the rapidly receding blackness. It was clear from Tifa’s expression that she appreciated this supremely stupid act of courage before she, too, leaped. One by one, the members of AVALANCHE left the train.
A couple of seconds later the Author burst into the carriage.
“Unauthorised passenger detected in car E!” continued the voice from above. “Final lockdown in ten… nine…”
“Oh, God,” muttered the Author gloomily, running towards the exit. His cloak billowed out behind him as he did so, revealing a pair of fairly well-kept jeans underneath. The more observant onlookers might have noticed a couple of fountain pens in one of his pockets.
“Look, are you really sure we should do this?” asked Mr. Big’s nervous voice from his shoulder as he reached the door and looked out.
“Three… two…”
“No,” replied the Author decisively, and promptly jumped out of the train. Showing the precision timing upon which the success of the LTF depended, his head collided with pretty much the only sign on the entire track as it was passing, so the overall result was that he turned several somersaults before finally crashing into the tunnel wall and sliding gracefully down it onto the metal floor.

The guard manning the front desk at the Shinra HQ leaned back on the wall and folded his arms across his chest. He’d been standing here, doing precisely nothing, for the last couple of hours, and frankly it was beginning to get just slightly repetitive.
Under other circumstances he might have welcomed a distraction, but as it was he objected to the fact that a man wearing a light beige trenchcoat dropped down from the ceiling in front of him, grabbed him by his hair and rammed his head into the wall at least six or seven times.
Special Agent Warbling Croft, ex-SOLDIER, ex-Shinra elite guard, brushed the dust off his coat that had accumulated during his crawl along the ceiling and looked around him. He knew his way around the HQ pretty well by now, after all the training and hours of studying maps he’d had to undergo, but every time he tried this he always had to stop and decide on the best route. The lifts were obviously the quickest route to the top, but then again, he could quite easily be trapped. On the other hand, he didn’t fancy charging up the stairs like he had last time.
Attracted by the guard’s shout, a couple of soldiers ran down the main staircase, drawing their machine guns as they came. Croft spun round to face them, and, in one fluid movement, drew his pistol from within his trenchcoat and fired two shots, with unerring inaccuracy. He threw himself to one side, rolled as he hit the floor, and made for the lift.
Bullets sprayed the floor around him as he ran, one or two tearing holes in his coat. He sprinted into the lift, backflipped as shots flew through the air where he had been, and rammed his fist into the button for the sixtieth floor. As the doors slid shut and the lift began to accelerate upwards, he leaned back on the glass wall and breathed heavily. That hadn’t happened before.

Tentatively, an arm stirred in the darkness of the tunnel. One by one, the fingers flexed cautiously. Then, obviously deciding that the hand, at least, had made it without any serious injuries, it worked its way along until it reached a leg. It prodded this a few times.
“Ouch,” said Perigee’s voice. “I think I’ve broken my leg.”
“No, you haven’t,” replied Cloud from somewhere in the vicinity. “Trust me on this one.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s my leg you’re poking.”
After some considerable effort, the two finally managed to extricate themselves and stood up, one rather more steadily than the other. They squinted around them for a while until Perigee produced a match and struck it on Cloud’s sword, which he currently carried on his back.
“Now what?” he asked.
Cloud shrugged. “Guess we just work our way along here ‘til we bump into the others.”
It didn’t take long for Perigee’s match to burn out, and shortly after this they bumped into Tifa, or, to be more precise, tripped over her.
“Is that you, Cloud?” she squeaked as both men collapsed on top of her.
“Oh, good,” added Wedge’s voice. “So we’re all here then.”
“Damn right we’re all here!” shouted Barret. “Yo’ thought Cloud was gonna waltz off an’ leave us here?”
“I didn’t say that!” Wedge replied defensively.
A pair of loud clangs from around Tifa indicated that Perigee and Cloud had managed to stand up again. Being as close to the tunnel wall as they were, the ceiling was rather lower than might otherwise have been the case.
A third one a few seconds later told the others that one of them had helped Tifa to her feet as well.
“We ought to keep moving,” Jessie pointed out. “When the Shinra find out that we got off the train, they might come looking for us in here.”
Something flickered and then burst into light as Perigee lit another match. He handed it to Cloud, who nodded acknowledgement and took the lead. Every few seconds when the current match burnt out, he passed him another one.
After a couple of minutes gentle ambling down the tunnel towards where Jessie assured them was an access shaft leading to the reactor, Cloud stopped abruptly near a corner. Tifa continued straight into him, and it was thankful that the match he was holding decided at that moment to give up, otherwise she might have seen the grin temporarily passing across his face.
“Wait a sec,” he whispered. “I think I can hear someone coming.”
Sure enough, a few seconds later a pair of lights made their way round the corner towards AVALANCHE. They were at roughly head height and remarkably close together, but unfortunately too bright for the terrorists to make out who was holding them.
“Are you sure they’re down this way?” asked a voice.
“Of course they’re down this way,” replied another, obviously trying to remain calm. “We jumped off the train after them, remember? Therefore they must be somewhere around here.”
“Yes, but we do seem… I mean you seem to have walked an inordinately long way,” continued the first voice. “Perhaps we might be better off waiting somewhere for them, rather than trying to tail them. Just think how embarrassing it’d be if we’ve gone past them already without realising.”
The lights stopped.
“You may have a point, actually,” mused the second voice. “Good idea.” The lights swung round to face the other way, and began moving off again. “We’d better make sure we can find somewhere where we’re not going to miss them.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. Trust me, I’m good at that sort of thing.”
The voices and lights disappeared round the corner again.
“I think they must be onto us,” Wedge observed. “They’re pretty quick at sending out men, aren’t they?”
“They’d better not catch us,” Perigee muttered under his breath. He dreaded to think what could happen to the plot if Cloud and Aeris didn’t bump into each other this time. “Let’s get moving, then,” he said louder. “I’m sure the access shaft’s this way.”

Agent Croft professionally fitted a couple more bullets into his pistol and peeped round the corner at the guards, still snoring loudly at each other. This should be easy.
He hurried out from behind his cover and made stealthily for the far side of the room, towards the large flight of stairs that he remembered leading to the 70th floor, where he knew he’d find the President. He was halfway across when a hole opened up in the steel floor and an unusual grey gopher popped up. It was wearing a miner’s hat and an expression of short-sightedness.
“I’m not in the book,” it explained informatively, descending back into its hole, but not before Croft tripped over it and hit the floor with a loud clang. The hole subsequently sealed itself up.
“Huh? Wassat?” asked one of the guards, waking up abruptly. Croft spotted a handy wall and disappeared behind it with surprising speed. He stared at where the gopher had appeared. He’d spent enough time around the Author to know that when completely unpredictable and unexplainable things started happening, something very weird was going on with literature. He would have to mention it when they got in touch again. But, for the moment, there were more immediate considerations.
The soldier approaching nervously was considerably shocked as Agent Warbling Croft burst out from behind the wall and sprinted towards the stairs. He reached for his machine gun, only to realise he’d left it over by the wall. Swearing to himself, he ran over to it and grabbed it by the barrel.
Croft charged up the final flight of stairs and found himself face to face with President Shinra, who was standing a matter of metres away.
“Congratulations,” the President said in a rather disjointed voice. “Your time was, eleven, minutes, sixteen, seconds. That is a whole, one, minutes, twenty, three, seconds, faster than your previous best.”
The room faded out, and Croft found himself back on the good old 45th floor, in the SOLDIER virtual reality training room. The first thing he saw was I, Caroussis’ face at close range, and this is not a pleasant experience.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. “I didn’t think you socialised with the likes of us.”
“I, doesn’t,” Caroussis snapped. “I, is only here to fetch you to the President’s suite. You have been selected for the latest spying program. Project Overseer.”
“That’s the one the Author wanted me to get into, isn’t it?” Croft disconnected himself from the training machine, which promptly said, “Emergency! Life signs minimal!” in a flat voice. “Everything’s going according to plan, then?”
“Of course. With I, ensuring the success, how could there be any problems?”
Croft looked sideways at I, as the two proceeded sedately towards the lifts, to see if there was any trace of humour in that last sentence. As always, nothing more than arrogance. Not for the first time, he wondered why the Author had seen it fit to bring I, with them. He was just looking forward to the time when he’d be able to join the good guys. He really hoped it wouldn’t be too much longer now.

The grating covering a ventilation shaft in the Sector 5 reactor found itself being dragged pitilessly from its residence, then dropped several hundred feet to hit the cement floor with a painful brang-bng-ng-g.
“Oops,” muttered Perigee. We ought to still be protected by the narrative, though, he reassured himself silently. There’ve only been small deviations so far. But still…best to keep the characters in the dark. They usually don’t like it when they find out they’re fictional.
The group slid down a convenient pipe, and somehow managed to disembark at the bottom without anybody landing on anybody else’s head, although Cloud did seem rather slow in moving out of the way of Tifa.
Barret looked around proudly. “Alwright! Just ‘cos we’re in, that don’t mean we can relax. Tifa, Wedge, you go secure the exit. Cloud, you me Jessie an’ Perigee’re goin’ to set the bomb.
Now I find out whether my plan worked or not, thought Perigee.
“Hey, wait just a sec!” exclaimed Tifa. “I’m going with Cloud.” She smiled, slightly shyly.
“Oh, fine, but you’re messin’ up my plans. Don’t you go forgetting who’s in charge here! Jess, you go help Wedge, huh?”
“Gotcha.” Jessie and Wedge climbed up a nearby ladder, and vanished into an elevator.
Cloud spoke up. “Everyone ready? Then let’s go!”
“Uh…Cloud?” asked Tifa. “That’s kind of a boring way of saying it. Can’t you say it with a little more…originality?”
Cloud scratched his head. “Okay…um…let’s mosey!”
Barret slapped his forehead, but Perigee grinned, apparently laughing at a joke only he understood.

The core of the reactor was surprisingly small compared to the structure around it. It was a squat grey metal box with a somewhat oily sheen to it, the characteristic reaction of metal to the presence of materia. Perigee had termed materia as being a form of ‘meta-magic,’ that is, ‘sort-of-magic,’ since the users needed none of the intelligence traditionally required for magic use. Even Barret could use them!
Cloud pulled out the bomb from his pocket, and placed it gingerly on the core. When he pressed the single button on it, eight thin metal legs extended from its base, which clamped it securely to the metallic surface. A solitary red light appeared on the bomb.
“Okay, that’s it. We’ve got half an hour to get out of here,” announced Cloud. “That ought to make it a little easier than last time.”
The others nodded, and together they hurried back up the maintenance ladder they had come in on.

As the four reached the walkway just outside the reactor, they heard a noise from below.
“…a helicopter?” suggested Cloud.
The layout of the place was such that the walkway was all that was keeping them from plunging to the distant slums of Sector 5 below. The helicopter circled below once or twice, then hovered up and landed on the walkway, not far in front of AVALANCHE.
A short, heavy man wearing a royal-red business suit hopped out of the helicopter and waddled slowly towards the group. Another man, this one of more normal proportions, and wearing a more typical black suit, peered out of the helicopter with an expression of extreme boredom.
“Hey!” shouted Barret. “That’s Prez Shinra!” He unlocked the safety on his gun-arm, and prepared to fire at the shorter target.
“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” said the President. Barret heard the click of several machineguns behind him being readied.
“Barret, they’re SOLDIER,” informed Cloud.
Barret rounded on him. “Yeah, jes’ like you! You never quit the Shinra after all!”
“No, I did! They…”
President Shinra interrupted calmly, with the quiet assurance of one who has never had a direct order disobeyed. “Now let’s see…you’re that terrorist group…What was it called again?”
“AVALANCHE! An’ don’t you forget it!”
“Ah yes, the alpine anarchists. Well, you can’t expect me to remember every name.” The faintest glimmer of what might have been an attempt at a smile appeared on his face briefly. “Unless, of course, you become as infamous as Sephiroth.”
Cloud blinked. Sephiroth…?
“As fascinating as this discussion is, I have a prior appointment.” The President turned and began ambling sedately back towards the helicopter. “But I am sure I, will be able to explain your situation.”
“Wha’?” shouted Barret to his retreating back. “Wha’ d’yo’ mean?”
“He refers, of course,” the suited man explained, hopping out of the helicopter and strolling nonchalantly past the President towards them, “to I,.”
“Oh, no,” Cloud muttered. “I know this guy. He’s the head of Shinra finance. Real weirdo, but very intelligent.”
Perigee simply stared. He knew that guy from… somewhere. He shrugged. He had been in the Shinra R&D for several years - well, supposedly, anyway.
“Technically, this chore should not fall upon I,,” I, continued, while behind him the President clambered into the helicopter, which floated upwards and began to make its erratic journey back towards the HQ. “However, none of the other officials could be spared to dispose of insignificant fools such as yourselves, and therefore the introduction of your personal annihilator is left to me. A menial task, but nevertheless one that must be carried out.”
“Wait a sec’, I know yo’!” Barret exclaimed, suddenly realising. “Yo’re that guy from the train! I’m gonna finish this right now!”
“Barret?” Tifa asked quietly, tugging gently at his arm. “There are about a dozen members of SOLDIER on either side of us.”
“Ah, yes.” I, waved a hand dismissively at the troops. “You are no longer required. You may return to your barracks. I, will handle things from now on.”
The leaders of either squad saluted, about faced, and marched off. Caroussis turned his attention back to the terrorists. “There is nothing to stop you this time. Shoot me.”
“Wha’?” Barret shouted. “Yo’ wha’? Don’t play yo’ mind games with me!”
“Mind games? With you? Please.” I, laughed harshly. “There is no point.”
“Right!” Barret levelled his gun arm at I,’s head and snarled. “You’ve had yo’ chance! G’night!”
He fired.
I,’s arm moved so fast it appeared to teleport from his side to in front of his face, arm outstretched, palm facing toward the terrorists. As one, every single bullet hesitated and hung uncertainly in the air about three feet or so from him.
He reached out calmly and plucked one from the air, inspected it critically, then held it out to one side and carelessly dropped it off the walkway. The eyes of every member of AVALANCHE involuntarily followed it as it descended out of sight.
“How… what… he… you…” observed Barret.
“Hmm. Indeed,” agreed I,, repeating the process with the other motionless bullets, one by one. “Obviously you were unaware that I,’s influence extends everywhere.”
“But… they… when…”
“However, your action was relatively impressive,” I, continued thoughtfully, glancing imperceptibly to a higher platform some distance above and beyond AVALANCE, where the Author was just arriving and trying to make himself comfortable. “I, really did not think you would do that. Obviously I, has underestimated you, a feat which I, previously considered to be impossible. In that case, it seems that I, will be forced to call in some aid to dispose of you.”
He raised one hand and clicked his fingers. To the group’s left, a loud rumbling sound started up and began to approach them.
“Wha’ the hell is that?” Barret shouted.
“This,” I, said flatly as a huge sixteen-foot tall robot glided effortlessly towards them, “is known as the Air Buster. A particularly uncouth name, however it is fairly self-explanatory. While I, does not agree with hydraulics when compared to the power of other technologies, he does think that this will be sufficient to finish you off. It does seem a shame not to witness this, but I, has other things to attend to. I, will bid you good day and leave you to your new friend here.”
Behind him, another helicopter descended. Unlike the dull uncleaned grey of the Shinra company helicopters, this one gleamed so brightly it was almost as if it produced its own light. It was also far more streamlined, and on the side was the text, “Caroussis Aerospace: A subdivision of the Public Benefit Foundation.”
Perhaps a short explanation is appropriate here, lest some of the readers be fooled into thinking that the Public Benefit Foundation is a charitable organisation. The public do not benefit from the Foundation. The Foundation benefits from the public, and an army of Public Benefit Enforcement Officers are employed to ensure that no-one escapes without their fair share of benefit.
I, jumped easily up into the cockpit and nodded to the group. “It has not been a pleasure to meet you. Good afternoon.”
As the helicopter ascended, AVALANCHE gradually realised that the hulking automaton was doing its best to attract their attention.
“A robot…” breathed Perigee. “Built to be a soldier…it would have the strength of several men. I’ve got to see the blueprints for this thing!”
“What? That thing’s in SOLDIER?!” demanded Barret.
“No, it’s not a SOLDIER, it’s a soldier. You know, like an enlisted fighter?” A puzzled look still remained on Barret’s face. “Look, it’s just a guard, okay?”
“Gotcha.”
“If we’re all clear on that,” Cloud interjected nastily, “perhaps we could start dealing with this thing?”
“Got it!” Barret agreed wholeheartedly, and promptly began unloading unfeasible numbers of bullets into the creation without reloading. Perigee smiled and shook his head at the sight. More video game logic.
“Y’know, this isn’t doin’ much,” Barret pointed out after a couple of seconds. Practically every shot that actually connected with the robot simply ricocheted off. Several had almost hit the AVALANCHE members.
Perigee opened his mouth to give advice concerning a Lightning materia and the efficacy of using it, but was silenced by a short barrage from the robot. The only reason he managed to swallow his scream was because he was momentarily distracted by the number ‘16’ flashing in front of him.
Odd, he mused, digging one hand into his pocket for a Tonic. He hadn’t noticed any damage displays or anything popping up over the guards they’d met back at the other reactor. Perhaps he hadn’t integrated fully with the plot this time. That wasn’t good. The only time LTF agents didn’t integrate seamlessly was when something - some particularly important event or character that didn’t belong - was disrupting the natural flow of literature.
“Cloud!” shouted Tifa, snapping him out of his pensive mood. “What are you doing?”
Cloud was currently dangling from an exhaust pipe about halfway up the robot’s side. “They told us about these back in SOLDIER,” he lied. “The brain bit is stored in the head, so if I can get up there, maybe…” The robot swung at Barret, nearly flinging Cloud off. “…maybe I can do something,” he finished breathlessly.
“Wha’ever yo’ say!” Barret called back. “C’mon, you two, we need t’ keep that thing busy! Yo, metalhead! Gi’ me yo’ best shot!”
The Air Buster levelled its chaingun at him and prepared to oblige.
“Uh…” Tifa added, realizing that if she didn’t join in, Barret was going to become a test model for an all-new type of ventilation. “Hey! Mr. Robot! You… your… your mother was a vacuum cleaner!” she finished lamely, not having Barret’s natural aptitude for insults. Perigee hit one hand against his forehead in a gesture of resignation.
“Keep it up, you two!” Cloud yelled, hauling his way to the robot’s head and standing up uncertainly. He drew his sword and looked down at the rivets and bolts at his feet. “I need to find a way to prise this thing open!”
The Air Buster paused, and seemed to be trying to look upward at him. It raised one arm jerkily up to the level of its head and began repeatedly hitting itself in the forehead. Cloud wobbled, tripped over his own feet, and, in desperation, flung out his sword in a last-ditch attempt to find some form of support.
Like a free radical through ozone, to use what had become known in the LTF as a ‘Perigee-ism’, his blade dug into the robot’s head, and he ended up holding onto the hilt, suspended several metres above the walkway.
Perigee couldn’t hold back a smile. Now this reminded him of something.
“Get back, you two,” he ordered. Barret and Tifa obeyed, Barret more out of shock at the sudden tone of authority in his voice than out of obedience. “Cloud! Use that lightning materia!”
“Yeah, whatever,” Cloud muttered, taking one hand off his sword hilt and clamping it round one of the green orbs set in his sword near the hilt. “How does this go again? Oh, yeah, I remember. Bolt!”
As the sky above them darkened, the Air Buster made a faint buzzing sound that, to Perigee’s mechanically tuned ears, sounded remarkably like, “uh oh.” A bolt of electricity speared down, hitting the hilt of Cloud’s sword and making it glow white. The robot’s eyes crossed, in so far as that was possible, a fraction of a second before it exploded. The shock wave and fireball carried Cloud, still gripping tightly to his sword, at least ten metres up, whereupon gravity took a hold of him and brought him back down again. He barely managed to grab onto what was left of the walkway and ended up hanging over a hundred-foot drop above the lower plate.
“Spire,” murmured Perigee, lost in memories of a wonderful computer game. A fragment of Air, or possibly Buster, rocketed past his face making a ‘whummmm’ noise and brought his attention back to reality.
“Cloud!” Tifa cried, running up to him. The smile was still plastered over Perigee’s face. At least now he should fall and bump into Aeris, he thought cheerfully to himself. That first scene he missed shouldn’t matter too much.
Above them, the Author exchanged glances with Mr. Big on his shoulder. “I think this would be a suitable time to make our… my appearance.”
Tifa jumped back in shock as a black-caped blur descended down and landed on the walkway with a loud clang, whereupon it unfolded to its full height and flashed her a brief smile. She recognized the man almost instantly - that guy from the bar last night. Something told her it wouldn’t be easy to forget his face.
“Having a good day so far?” he asked conversationally, kneeling down and gripping Cloud’s wrist with both hands. “You want to be more careful. It’s quite a long way down.” He smiled at them again, ignoring Perigee’s expression of mounting horror. “Purely as a matter of interest, would any of you happen to be an Aeris?”
“A wha’?” shouted Barret.
He’s concerned about Aeris, Perigee noted. And he’s not in the game… He thought for a few moments, then put a couple of twos together and came up with FG.
The man shrugged. “Obviously not. Oh, well. You seem to be relatively important characters. I think I’ll hang around with you for a while. You should meet her fairly soon. Oh, please ignore what I’m saying. I’m just thinking aloud.”
“You’re speaking out of character again?” hazarded Tifa, trying desperately to latch onto the conversation. The man shook his head.
“I’ve given up on that idea,” he admitted. “It’s so difficult to stay in character all the time. I’m just going to act normally from now on. Oh, I do apologise. I’m the Author. Who are you?”
Author, thought Perigee. Author means literature. There aren’t any other teams here, so…
“Uh…I don’t want to be a bother,” said Cloud casually, “but I’m sort of about to fall to my doom here.”
“Oh, Cloud! Are you okay?” asked Tifa.
“Hey, don’t worry. I was in SOLDIER, remember?” He grabbed onto a cable dangling from the innards of the ledge with his right hand, and attempted to pull himself up. Without any dramatics, the cable simply came loose. Cloud swung wildly, the only thing keeping him from falling being the Author’s vice-like grip around his left wrist. Dazed, Cloud let his sword slip from his right hand. It pinwheeled down with deceptive slowness, and vanished into the slums below. “Well, okay, maybe a little help would be useful…” he muttered.
This is going too far, thought Perigee. I’m not going to stand by and watch this happen. He pulled out a green orb from the inside pocket of his coat. LTF commanders had access to some low-level plot-editing devices, although of course they had nowhere near the power of the Writers. He’d taken the precaution of introducing a few, um, extra materia into the world. Like this one.
“Black Ice,” he intoned softly, pointing surreptitiously at the Author’s feet. The Author found that there was a sudden lack of friction keeping his soiled black trainers in their place on the ground. Thinking quickly, he took the only appropriate course of action in the situation. He fell.
Perigee looked at Barret and Tifa, trying to copy their shocked expressions. He could only hope they hadn’t noticed what he did. “Okay,” he said, “can anyone explain what just happened?”

Some considerable distance above, I, Caroussis stared downwards at the events below him. He smiled. It was certainly a good thing that he had taken the time to ensure that the Air Buster would not be running at its maximum power. Even on barely fifty percent of its full potential, it had still been quite a match for that pathetic group. Never mind. That was behind them now, although, in the case of Cloud and the Author, perhaps ‘above them’ was a more appropriate term. Caroussis shrugged. The Author always survived. It was one of the man’s few commendable character traits, and whether or not Cloud survived was not something I, concerned himself with.
“Return to the company headquarters,” he told his personal pilot, who nodded impassively and began to turn the helicopter round. “I, has seen everything he needs to.”

Chapter III	Biohazard

Look, I’m not the most creative person around. You want a quote, ask the Author.
Mr. Big

The Author’s cloak billowed out behind him as he plummeted towards the lower plate. It was still some considerable distance below him, although it did seem to be making a concerted effort to remedy this situation. Whether it was the extra weight of Cloud’s hair gel or the fact that the Author’s cloak served almost as a parachute was unclear, but the warrior seemed to be falling considerably faster.
“Nice one,” muttered a gloomy voice from the Author’s shoulder, emerging into the daylight near the end of the sentence as Mr. Big. “Why’d you go and do that?”
“Ice,” the Author mused. “One of them effectively pushed me off. I think we have some candidates for FG now.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” Mr. Big replied sarcastically. “Let’s go back up there and arrest them now, shall we?”
“I don’t know what you’re worried about,” the Author snapped. “You can do that helicopter thing with your ears. I’m the one who’s going to hit the… oh, dear, there he goes.”
Below them, Cloud narrowly missed a church-like building that would have cushioned his fall to a certain extent and crashed heavily into the dust beside it.
“Well, love to hang around,” the rabbit continued hurriedly, doing as the Author suggested and spinning his ears as rapidly as is lapinely possible. “I’ll see you down there, shall I?”
The Author looked up at him as his fall began to slow. “Wish me luck,” he called, and went straight through the roof of the church.

Perigee coughed uncertainly. “Uh, maybe we should get out of here. I don’t know whether they’ve disarmed that bomb we set or not. Sorry if this seems coldhearted, but there’s nothing we can do about Cloud…or that other man. We’ve got to think about ourselves now.” Not that Cloud’s going to have any trouble, he added silently.
Tifa nodded her head slowly. “I suppose you’re right,” she said sadly.
Barret’s brow unfurrowed, thoughts about the uncertainty of death being replaced by the much easier thoughts of command, and stamped his foot. The catwalk creaked slightly. “Okay. Meet back at the hideout. Move out!”

Are you alright?
“Ouch… I’m alive, if that’s what you mean.”
That’ll do for now.
“I’m glad to hear you think of it that way.”
Huh. Anyway, you’d better be getting up. Time’s wasting away.
“To be honest, I think I’d prefer to stay here for a bit.”
You won’t be saying that in a few minutes if you do.
“Are you okay?”
“Oh, good. Now there’s two people talking to me. This could get confusing.”
No, only one. Note the lack of speech marks in my case.
“Hello?”
“You’re not speaking?”
“Oh, it moved!”
Nope. I’m just your thoughts. I bet you never know you had a split personality before.
“I don’t.”
Oh. Well, I’d better get going then.
The Author stirred unwillingly and slowly opened his eyes. After a while the blurs in front of him settled down, and he found himself staring into an attractive yet worried female face. She smiled when she saw him looking at her.
“Are you an angel?” he asked weakly, because there are some conventions by which even Authors have to abide.
She laughed. “No, just a flower girl. My name’s Aeris. Who are you?”
The Author managed to lever himself up into a sitting position.
“I’m the Author.”
She looked slightly confused. “Is that your real name?”
“No.” He shook his head. “The thing is, I’ve been the Author for so long now I haven’t got a clue what my name used to be beforehand. People just call me Author.”
She smiled again, stood up and helped him to his feet. “Hey, do I know you?”
The Author’s memories stirred, rather tentatively in case they had any broken bones, but after realising they were intact, lined up for inspection.
He smiled himself when he realised.
“So you’re the girl from Sector 1? It is a genuine pleasure to meet you. Again.” He reached out, took her hand and kissed it tenderly.
Behind her and unseen to both of them, a black shape descended through the new hole in the roof and landed neatly on the floor. It raised its sunglasses in surprise when it saw the two talking and watched curiously.
Aeris stared thoughtfully at him. “What happened to your eyes?”
She realised immediately she shouldn’t have said it, and clasped a hand over her mouth in embarrassment. The Author looked confused. “What about them?” He brought his hand up in front of his face, and noted the lack of light. Obviously he’d blown a fuse or something like that. “Ah. Don’t worry, the lights are just for show. They stop most of the creatures where I live attacking.”
“Oh.” Aeris looked him up and down. He seemed harmless enough, although for all she knew he could be concealing anything underneath that cloak. No. She stared at his eyes. She hadn’t been able to see it the first time they’d met, but there was a certain element of compassion about them. He didn’t look like the sort of person the Shinra employed. And she had to admit that he was fairly handsome, in his own way.
It should be pointed out that this was one occasion on which her normally astute senses failed her. A survey conducted among all the women the Author had come into contact with would have provided the result that he was, by common consensus, about as sexy as a pencil sharpener.
She was about to say something when she noticed the medallion he wore around his neck, set with three faintly glowing orbs in a triangle arrangement. She guessed they were materia of some sort, but they were unlike any other she’d seen. One was a deep purple, the second an almost blood red, and the third… It seemed to evade her gaze, so that whenever she looked at it suddenly it was at the corner of her vision. Obviously there was enormous power in that one.
Suddenly she was suspicious. She’d never seen anyone with materia other than Shinra operatives. “What are you doing here?”
The Author pointed cheerfully towards the hole in the ceiling. “Just dropping in.”
“Ouch,” muttered the black shape at the abysmal pun.
“I do hope I’m not interrupting anything,” interrupted a man in a dark blue suit, walking calmly into the church and leaning on one of the pews. “Aeris, you really must learn not to socialise with strangers.”
“Who’s he?” the Author whispered, examining this newcomer. Obviously this suit had the potential to be extremely smart, but somehow on this man it looked shabby. His shirt was untucked, his jacket loose. Even his red hair seemed to be doing its best to add to this appearance. It stuck up in literally all directions, beating even Cloud’s to the award for ‘most unpredictable hairstyle’.
“No time to explain,” Aeris replied. She held out a hand to him. “Would you care to escort me out?”
“Hey, Reno!” A trio of soldiers entered, hauling Cloud’s limp body behind them. “We found this one outside.”
Reno looked scornfully at their latest catch. “Get these two as well.”
The Author smiled at Aeris. “Love to. But first…”
She saw the purple materia on his medallion begin to glow more strongly as he turned away from her and walked calmly towards the uninvited guests, hands in the air. “I’ve always believed it’s not reasonable to fight armed men when all I have is my fists. However…”
He whirled round, smashing one fist into the stomach of a soldier with so much power that the unfortunate man was sent hurtling backwards and crashed into the wall above the door.
“Sometimes…”
The second soldier managed to raise his rifle in time to realise that the Author had vaulted expertly over his head and planted one foot firmly in the small of his back. He did not feel too much after that.
“One must…”
The Author spun round to spot the third and final soldier aiming directly at his head. He took a quick glance around him, and sprinted up the wall. Bullets spattered into the woodwork as he ascended, until he decided he had gained enough height and leaped down on top of the guard.
“Ignore reason temporarily,” he finished, standing up calmly, the light in his materia slowly fading away. He felt rather than saw the burst of energy hit his back, but quite definitely saw the shimmering silver pyramid encase him. “Oh, damn.”
Reno smiled as he stuck his ‘Shinra Electro-Mag Rod, Mk. III’ back through his belt. “It actually works! Try getting out of that if you can!”
He looked to the far end of the church, where Aeris was making for the back entrance. “Perhaps I should mention,” he called out, “that this man may be classified as ‘expendable’ after what he just did. I would hate to have to dispose of him. It’s always so messy.”
The Author saw Aeris slow and look back over her shoulder. “           ,” he shouted, his words muted somewhat by the barrier around him. “    !”
Aeris sighed. “Alright. I’ll come.”
“Good girl.” Reno stared from the Author to the three soldiers, who were by now beginning to recover. “I’m sure I can arrange for you two to share a cell or something like that. We’ll have to take care with this one, though. I was quite impressed by that little display.”
The black shape gloomily watched the soldiers collect their prizes and carry them out of the church. It had to admit, it had been impressed by the Author’s sudden physical ability. Obviously that ‘Mega Plus’ materia (mastered, +200% to all stats, don’t you know) he’d written beforehand had been worth the effort. But still, it hadn’t been good enough this time.
“I’d better go inform the others,” it muttered gloomily to itself, looking up through the hole in the ceiling and wondering what was the quickest route back to Sector 7.

*	*	*	*	*

Perigee was feeling rather content. Everything was going to plan, and he was seeing scenes that had been originally omitted. Like when they went into that fast-food restaurant. That had been…different.
He was lying underneath Seventh Heaven’s pinball machine, with a varied collection of outlandish tools scattered around him. Much of the innards of the unfortunate machine were dangling out from it, and occasionally a spark was reflected in his eyes. The others had retired to the basement where they were either trying to decide what to do about Cloud or just generally worrying, and so he had seized this opportunity to try and get the thing up and running again. It was one mini-game that hadn’t made it into the final product, and he was determined to remedy that.
He had just started humming to himself when Mr. Big walked underneath the traditional saloon-style swinging doors and into the bar, looking rather less organised than he had before. An encounter with a group of unidentifiable pink creatures had ruffled his fur and generally unnerved him, but at least he’d gained a reasonable amount of experience from them. He idly readjusted his sunglasses with one ear and polished the lenses with the other. “Um… anyone home?”
Perigee sat up abruptly and hit his head on the underside of the pinball machine. Several brightly-coloured lights immediately started flashing, a tinny voice yelled, “Knights of the Round MULTIBALL!” and the machine dispensed twelve steel ball bearings into his face.
“Hang on…” he muttered, extricating himself from the various flippers and bumpers around him and trying desperately to prevent as many of the balls as possible from escaping. “Sorry, who is it?”
“The name’s Big…” Mr. Big began, but trailed off once he realised that Perigee was looking straight past him at the gates, obviously expecting someone to enter. “Down here, you fool. The rabbit.”
Perigee stared down at the creature. It couldn’t be talking. That just didn’t fit with the game.
“Yes, I’m talking to you,” Mr. Big continued irritably. “Hear me? Reception good at your end?”
Perigee backed away. No… this rabbit couldn’t talk. It was just a trick of his imagination. You didn’t get talking animals in FF7… well, not apart from Red, anyway. He had to get rid of the rabbit, quickly.
A tiny voice at the back of his mind kept insisting that he’d seen that rabbit before somewhere, but he ignored it and began looking for something to cover the rabbit with. A bucket would be ideal. Even a tea towel would do.
“Is someone here?” Tifa called, climbing up from the basement. “I thought I heard you talking to someone, Perigee.”
Mr. Big sighed and cleared his throat. It was one of the things that the Author had taught him that, in situations like this, the most important thing was to take their attention away from the fact that he was actually talking and try to get them to concentrate on what he was saying. And experience had taught him the best way to go about this.
“Ah, how you doin’, brethren?” he began, switching accents instantly from his usual cultured tones into something far, far coarser. “Me is seein’ how you be lashin’ dat machine up real good, you see what me is sayin’?”
The things I do for the Author, he mused darkly to himself.
“What did it say?” Tifa asked. Perigee shrugged.
“I think it was referring to the pinball machine,” he suggested. “I was trying to get it working again, you see, and…”
Mr. Big couldn’t hold back a grin. This was easier than he’d anticipated.
“Me is bringin’ you news from dat slick feller Cloud,” he interrupted. “Yo’ friend, you know? Yah, dem Shinra breres, they is lockin’ him up real good in their tower thing, innit.”
“Did it just mention Cloud?” Tifa said, suddenly paying far more attention than before.
“I… something to do with the Shinra, I think,” Perigee added.
“Yah,” Mr. Big spoke up, anxious to get his message across, “dem Shinra folk is takin’ Cloud to them home place. All de way over there, you knows? With me, brethren?”
“I don’t follow it,” Perigee admitted. Mr. Big sighed. Maybe he’d overdone the dialect a bit.
“Yo, what’s up?” Barret shouted, joining them from below. “What’re yo’ two talkin’ about?”
“Um… I don’t really know how to put this, Barret…” Tifa began.
“There be a talkin’ rabbit in yo’ house, fella, see?” Mr. Big put in. “Yo’ wid me? Yo’ follow what me is sayin’?”
“Yeah,” replied Barret cheerfully, completely unfazed.
“Slick,” Mr. Big agreed. “Now, listen up, me boy. Them Shinra breres, they is takin’ yo’ Cloud friend off t’ deir big tower place. Got me?”
“Yo’ what?!” Barret yelled. He turned to the other two. “It said the Shinra got Cloud in that HQ of theirs! We gotta go rescue him!”
“Yah, spring that fella,” the talking rabbit concurred. “He in major trouble, you know. Let’s go hack the net, brethren.”
“Yeah!” Barret continued. “If Cloud’s in trouble, we’re gonna go get him, yo’ understand? I’m goin’ to get the others!”
He leaped back down the hole into the basement, taking a sizeable chunk of the dismantled pinball machine with him. Tifa shook her head sadly. “I’ll just go tell Marlene we’re off again,” she told Perigee, and disappeared.
Perigee looked down at Mr. Big and shrugged. Well, he supposed if they were going to do the raid on Shinra tower now, he wouldn’t object. That whole business with Don Corneo and the Sector 7 plate was… hang on, if they were doing the tower now, then that meant Sector 7 wouldn’t fall. He cheered up a bit at that.
Unfortunately, there was still the fact that, somehow, despite his best intentions, a talking rabbit had entered into the plot.
“What exactly are you?” he asked it, slightly suspiciously. “How do you know about Cloud?”
“Ah, yo’ remember dat fella what almost saved Cloud?” Mr. Big replied. “He called the Author. Respect to the Author, brother. He hacks it reeeal good, man, you see what me is sayin’? Well, me is sorta his familiar.”
It suddenly occurred to Mr. Big that all he was doing to create this daft speech thing was effectively using third person verbs for everyone and inserting a good helping of silly words into the sentences, and that this was basically how I, Caroussis spoke. He smiled inwardly and made a mental note to bring this matter up when the two met later on.
Perigee’s expression froze. So this rabbit was something to do with ‘FG,’ was it? Well, it looked as though he had no choice now other than to play along, but when he came face to face with that plot saboteur, there would be an ugly confrontation, he was sure of that. Ugly, definitely, because he had, in various pockets in his lab coat, at least half a dozen test tubes containing corrosive, ionising, and just downright odorous chemicals. How’d FG like half a mole of 2,4-dimethylphenyl 3-oxypentanoate in his eyes, then?

“Now, I want you to be careful with this one. He’s better than he looks.”
“Whatever you say, sir. We won’t disable the pyramid until he’s in the cell.”
“That’s the spirit. Don’t forget, put them both in the same cell.”
“Sir?”
“Yes, yes, I know. Not the most sensible thing, but I did promise her. I’ve got to keep my word. Code of the Turks, remember?”
“Yes, sir. By your leave, sir, I will call over two of the porters now.”
“Go ahead.”
…
“Yeah?”
“The sir here would like you to take these two and house them in cell… 7B. He says to be specially careful over this one.”
“Don’t look too much of a danger to me, if you want my opinion, but if you say so… Hang on, I know this girl. Seen pictures of her in some of the files. Who is she?”
“May I just check something? Would these be black-bound files -”
“Yeah.”
“Saying ‘for the eyes of the Turks only’ on the cover?”
“Um… nah, just something I read somewhere, can’t remember where. Nothing important, honest. But… this woman, this… sorcerer. Why’s she here?”
“I’m not meant to tell you that, you know.”
“Oh, c’mon, mate. Just between friends. I don’t know you, you don’t know me, if you like.”
“Perfectly true, I don’t know you. Oh, well… she’s an Ancient, according to our info. The good Doctor Hojo wants her for his ‘experiments.’”
“Think I know just what you mean, mate. Well, off to work, eh?”
“Yes, get on with it. This thing’s new, and I’m not entirely sure how long the pyramid’ll last. I’d genuinely hate to see you get hurt.”
“Point taken, guv, point taken. I’m off now. You can see me goin’, right?”
“Right.”

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” asked Tifa.
“We need to get to the Shinra Tower. The only way is by train, and we know our IDs don’t work,” replied Perigee.
“Yeah, but there’s got to be a better way than this.”
He had to agree with her. They’d found a manually driven trolley, the sort that required two people to alternately lower the ends of a see-saw-like contraption fixed to the middle of the trolley. Wedge and Barret were working it, being the strongest. That rabbit had taken up residence on Barret’s shoulder, and went ‘waah’ every time he stood up.
“So what’re we going to do when we get there?” enquired Jessie.
“We gonna…bust on in. Show those Shinra…what we’re made of,” panted Barret.
“I don’t think that would be such a good idea,” warned Perigee. “Into the jaws of death, and all that stuff. Maybe it’d be better if we found a more…discreet route.”
“Wha?”
“We should sneak in. Like up the fire escape, or something,” said Perigee, grinning.
Barret was silent, though whether it was due to outrage or fatigue was uncertain.

“Uhhhh…”
Aeris rolled over onto her side, clutching her head in both hands. She couldn’t recall what they’d done to her, but by the splitting pain currently residing an inch or so above her left eye, it had involved something very heavy and also very blunt.
Her vision wasn’t exactly perfect, but she could just about make out her surroundings. There weren’t exactly very many of them to take in. This seemed to be some sort of cell, about… she tried to judge the size… about eight foot square. The walls were made of a particularly boring grey metal, with absolutely nothing interesting about them. Even the inconspicuous door was just a flat sheet, without even a barred window to brighten the place up. The only light was provided by a tiny bulb in the ceiling which managed to illuminate the room just enough to let her see that she couldn’t really see anything.
There was a hunched figure in the far corner of the room. It looked vaguely humanoid, but she couldn’t make out too much detail. It seemed to be doing something complex and difficult, judging by the, “Damn”s and “Why am I bothering with this?”s.
She sat up unsteadily, opened her mouth to say something, and the room lit up. Brilliant white light mercilessly filled every corner, apparently emanating from the figure. She held one hand to her eyes to shade them from the glare and tried to work out what the shape was. She could tell now that it was a person, a man, judging by the hairstyle. He was wearing particularly unnoteworthy clothes - a pair of navy blue jeans, and a long-sleeved shirt of a similar colour. From what she could see of his face reflected in the walls, he did not look overly friendly.
He turned to face her, and she was almost blinded by the glare. She shut her eyes as tight as she could and held both arms in front of her face.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said a familiar voice, and gradually the light died away, leaving them once more in almost complete darkness. “I think I must have rewired them wrong. They shouldn’t be this bright.”
“Author?” asked Aeris shakily. She opened her eyes, and purple and green afterimages flashed across her vision. “You’re okay?”
The vague silhouette that was all of the Author she could see moved in a way that she assumed was him nodding. “Pretty much, although I’m afraid they’ve taken the good stuff - my materia, and my cloak. I thought that was quite good, that cloak.”
Automatically, Aeris’ hand reached for her hairband. She breathed an audible sigh of relief when she felt the orb still attached there. Thank the Cetra they hadn’t taken that.
“What are we going to do?” she asked. Memories of that strange man Reno’s guys had hauled in with them came back to her. “Where’s the other person? Is he okay?”
“Cloud? Haven’t a clue.” The Author waved one arm around to indicate the cell they were in, a gesture that was almost completely lost on Aeris. “He’s not in here with us.” He rapped on the wall next to him with one fist. “Cloud? You over in there?”
“Wh?” said a muffled voice from the other side of the wall. “Huh?”
“Oh, he’s alright!” Aeris’ relief was apparent. “I’m sorry!” she called. “I didn’t want anyone else to get caught up in this!”
The Author shook his head. “Don’t worry,” he reassured her. “The Shinra were after him regardless of you.”
Aeris sighed. Somehow, that didn’t really help to make things any better.
“So what do we do now?” she enquired.
The Author grinned in the darkness.
“We wait for a guard to turn up,” he explained. “Even without those materia, I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“Hey, stop, we’re here!” shouted Tifa suddenly.
AVALANCHE leapt off the cart, which carried on into the night. Shinra Tower rose imposing above them, made of glass and only interrupted by the occasional vent. Two glass large elevator shafts climbed up the front, reaching to the penultimate floor. Anyone who had any experience in these areas would know that a complex system of keycards meant that only management could reach the 60th floor, executives the 64th, and the 70th was reserved for the President. Terrorists, civilians and other lowlifes were restricted to the ground floor, where the barracks was.
“Okay, let’s try to find a fire escape,” announced Perigee.
The others nodded, and they spread out. Shortly afterwards, a shout came from Wedge. He’d found a largeish door partially hidden behind some crates. A sign on the door said, ‘Fire escape - Do not block.’
“Awlright, let’s get goin’,” ordered Barret, dejectedly.

Unknown to AVALANCHE, Cloud was sitting in a cell on the 67th floor, feeling rather sorry for himself. He stood up, and nearly fell straight back over. He ran a mental check, and discovered that his huge sword was missing, throwing off his balance. Well, he thought, he could still defend himself. Shinra’s training program was the best in the world, and though he was five years out of practice, he still knew how to fight unarmed.

Private Piete Vicks trudged lethargically up and down the dismal corridor between the two rows of cells on either side of him. It was a particularly dull task, made even worse by the fact that currently only two of the cells were occupied.
“Right, that does it!” shouted a voice from one of the inhabited rooms. “I’ve had enough of your cheek!” A few assorted thumps and clangs emanated from the cell after this, accompanied by what sounded like female cries of pain.
Vicks hurried over to the appropriate door, frantically swiped his keycard through the lock, and flung the door open. He found himself standing in front of an attractive young woman, who smiled innocently at him and waved.
“I’m so sorry,” she said sadly. “It’s not your fault.”
“What isn’t?”
Behind him, the Author stood up and raised a hefty book in the air, then brought it down with considerable force on his head. Vicks looked momentarily puzzled before he toppled over onto his face.
“That wasn’t,” the Author told him, spinning the book around his wrist several times before replacing it in one of his jeans pockets in a manner reminiscent of a highly educated gunslinger. Aeris caught a glimpse of the title, embossed in gold leaf on the cover. “Oxford English Dictionary, voluminous edition.”
“I hope he’ll be okay,” she murmured, kneeling down by his fallen body and searching through his pockets.
The Author shrugged. “It’s very hard to do lasting damage with a book,” he observed philosophically. “He might have a bit of a headache for a few days, though. Don’t worry about him. We’ve got more important problems at the moment.”
Aeris nodded, standing up and handing the Author Vicks’ thin plastic card. “How are we going to get out from here?”
The two of them stepped over Vicks’ body and out into the corridor, the Author immediately going over to the cell next to theirs and unlocking it. “I hadn’t really thought about that,” he explained. “I normally just make things up on the spot, although it would make sense if we tried to find our stuff before going anywhere.” It’s always stored nearby, he reminded himself. The laws of literature wouldn’t like it if it took us hours to get back what we lost.
The door to the cell next to theirs slid silently opening, revealing nothing in particular.
The Author shrugged. “Could’ve sworn he was in this one,” he mused to himself, turning and starting to head towards the cell on the other side. “Still, everyone makes -”
He was cut off abruptly as Cloud charged out from where he had been hiding beside the door, grabbed him round the neck with both fists, and began doing his utmost to strangle him. The Author struggled, but without his Mega Plus materia he really wasn’t strong enough to stand a chance.
“Get off me, you idiot,” he gasped, raising an arm and elbowing him in the face. “I’m rescuing you! Let go of me!”
“Yeah, right,” Cloud muttered, tightening his grip and only releasing the Author when Aeris hurried up to him and slapped him in the face.
“Get off him!” she exclaimed. “We’re here to help!”
“Huh.” Cloud brought a hand up to his face and tenderly nursed the red patch on his cheek. “Whatever.”
Aeris spun on her heel and walked over to the Author, who was currently collapsed on the floor and doing his best to breathe. He took her proffered hand and stood up shakily.
“That’s gratitude for you,” he observed darkly. “I don’t know why I even bothered to save you back at the reactor.”
“Hey, I’m sorry, okay?” Cloud replied. “I thought you were a guard of some sort. Thanks for back then.”
“No problem.” The Author held out his hand, obviously calming down once it was clear that it had only been a regrettable misunderstanding of the third degree (a first degree misunderstanding results in an exchange of views, a second degree one in an argument, and a third degree is defined as, ‘a situation in which one or both parties are in danger of losing their teeth or suffering greater physical damage’). “My name’s the Author.”
“Cloud,” Cloud said truthfully. “How’d you get out of your cell?”
“We exchanged a few words with the guard,” the Author replied. Aeris suppressed a giggle. “Anyway, we don’t really want to hang around here, and I’ve got… I had some stuff I’d like to get back. Follow me.”
Cloud opened his mouth to point out that he had been in SOLDIER, you know, and he probably knew his way around this building better than either of the other two did. He got about as far as, “I was…” before he noticed that they had both disappeared round a corner, and hurried to try and catch up with them.
A few of the staff gave them odd looks, but most shrugged and turned back to their work when the Author waved cheerfully at them and asked them how things were going. If these guys were escaping prisoners then they should be running around and, well, escaping, not talking amiably to their captors.
Had Aeris been a few paces farther forward, she might have noticed the Author flipping a coin as they passed each door on either side. As it was, all she knew was that he stopped in front of one nondescript door so abruptly that she walked into his shoulder.
“This one,” he announced, putting the coin in one of his shirt pockets. Ah, the wonders of literature. It hadn’t really mattered exactly how he chose the room to investigate - as a point of interest, he’d decided beforehand that he would stop on the third head he flipped - all that mattered was that they did actually choose one. He was willing to give very generous odds that this room here would be where their stuff was temporarily stored.
He pushed open the door and walked calmly in, closely followed by the other two. A quick glance around told him he’d been right. Sitting opposite each other at a desk were two guards, and there was an inviting-looking metal chest in one corner of the room. It practically exuded an aura of ‘open me, I contain items.’
“But,” one of the guards was saying triumphantly, “I’ve got the queen and the three. That’s a seasonally adjusted side-stepped flip!” He leaned back smugly in his swivel chair and spotted the newcomers. “Wait a sec, you’re the prisoners! Jailbreak!”
“I’ll go get the others!” his companion exclaimed, leaping over the back of his chair and making for the door. He hit the floor a few seconds later as Cloud calmly stuck one foot out in his path and proceeded to kick him until he stopped squirming.
The Author noted gloomily Aeris’ expression of something approaching admiration at his actions. Why did female characters always have to go for the men with abundant force and generally deficient intelligence? Not that it bothered him personally, he had to admit. The last thing he wanted was to get… ‘involved’ with one of the characters.
“Ha!” the still standing guard shouted gleefully, reaching down to a drawer in the desk and producing a small pistol. “Got you now, you terrorist scum!”
“Terrorist?” asked Aeris pointedly.
The Author held his hands up in the air. “It’s rather unsporting to shoot at three unarmed prisoners, isn’t it?” he pointed out. “Have you no code of morals?”
“No,” admitted the guard. “Come on, now, get back to your cells. Quietly now.”
“Oh well.” The Author lowered his hand and tested his grip on his dictionary. “Never mind. I did try to keep things friendly.”
He flexed his wrist a few times and threw the book in a manner similar to a frisbee. It flew forwards in a perfectly straight line, hit the guard between the eyes, rebounded off at an angle and looped back into his hand.
“Whoah,” said Cloud, genuinely impressed.
The Author shrugged modestly. “Practice,” he explained, stepping over the guard’s prone body and walking over to the chest. He knelt down next to it and hauled on the lid.
“Um…” he said after a while. “Perhaps if I could have some help here? This thing’s rather stiff.”
“Yeah, sure.” Cloud ambled unhurriedly over and gripped the lid with both hands. Bracing one foot at the base of the chest, he heaved upwards and pulled the thing open after barely five seconds or so.
“Let’s see now…” The Author reached into the chest and began relieving it of its contents. “We have one materia amulet… one black cloak… hmm…” He stuck one arm farther in and removed Cloud’s five-foot long sword from a box only two feet square, trying not to think about the geometry of the situation. Literature again. “This is yours, isn’t it?” After this came a simple wooden staff, again maybe five feet long or so. “Aeris?”
“Oh, yes.” Aeris hurried over and took it from him. “I keep this with me just in case. The Turks can be quite persistent.” She blushed. “I do try not to hurt them.”
The Author shrugged. “Makes sense, I suppose,” he agreed, putting his cloak back on and twirling once or twice. Much better.” Something that had been nagging at him finally made itself known, and he walked over to the prone guard by the door and removed him of his sunglasses. One lens was slightly crooked after his fall, but they were satisfactory. The Author put them on and adjusted them. It was fair to say that they didn’t suit him in any way whatsoever.
“Are we ready, then?” he asked, fastening his amulet round his neck and smiling inwardly as he felt the surge of power from his Mega Plus materia flow into him. “Let’s go fight our way out, shall we?”

Cloud trudged along behind his two rescuers. The man, he remembered, had said he was an author, but Cloud still didn’t know his name. As for the woman… he’d never seen her before. She was good-looking, though. He quickened his pace a bit and tapped her on the shoulder.
“Hey… what’s your name?”
She turned. “I’m Aeris. And you?”
“Cloud Strife. So…” He fished around for something to say. “…what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” He groaned inwardly. What kinda line was that?
A few metres ahead of them, the Author announced that he now hadn’t got a clue where they were, and wandered off to ask a passing secretary for directions.
“The Turks have been after me for years,” Aeris replied, either ignoring the cliché or genuinely not noticing it. “They finally caught up with me this morning.”
Cloud blinked. “The Turks? Why’re they after you?”
“I… I think they’re trying to recruit me. I don’t want to have anything to do with them, though. You know what they do, right?”
Cloud laughed. “Yeah, they’re Shinra’s goons. Assassins, thieves, they’re basically just thugs. But you really think you’d be able to get in? The Turks don’t accept just anyone.”
Aeris grinned. “Now you’re being mean. Don’t you think I have what it takes?”
Thankfully Cloud was saved from having to answer that question by the Author, who thanked the attractive young girl he’d just met and hurried back over. “I’ve just discovered we’ve been going the wrong way,” he informed them. “We’re on the sixty-seventh floor. We need to take the escalators down to the sixtieth, then we should be able to just use a lift to get to the ground floor.”
They about faced and wandered back down the corridor, the Author leading the way. He was worried. There would be guards around the headquarters - there always were. They wouldn’t be able to just walk out, that was for sure. While he was loath to do it this early, it looked as though he would have to get the others to help him out.
He reached into an inside pocket of his cloak and produced a mobile phone. Holding it to his ear, he started to talk into it, making sure he wasn’t speaking loud enough for either of the other two to hear. The last thing he needed at this stage was for them to blow his cover, especially now he’d worked out a whole background for himself. “Hello, I,? Yes, it’s me. I have something of a problem…”
Cloud kept silent as they walked, while he worked out a couple of good lines. He didn’t want to ruin his chances with this girl this early, and that little dialogue just now had not been a good start.
“You know -” he began, gathering his confidence enough to give it another go.
“Ah, here we are,” the Author observed, putting his mobile phone back inside his cloak. “Come on, then. Down seven flights of these, then we’re pretty much out.”
They hopped onto the escalators and leaned awkwardly on the handrail, as everyone does in such situations, while they descended. After they’d gone down maybe three floors, another group passed them going up on the way, and Cloud turned and waved at them.
Hang on, he thought as he turned back to Aeris. They looked familiar… Some guards he’d known, perhaps… Who are they…?
“Hey, Tifa! Barret!” he shouted, suddenly realising. “Come back here! It’s me!”
“Yo, there goes Cloud!” Barret observed as they went their separate ways. “How yo’ doin’, Cloud? Yo’ lookin’…”
He carried on shouting something, but Cloud missed the rest as they arrived at the sixty-fourth floor. Without waiting for the Author or Aeris, he hurried over to the ascending escalator and started back up again after the other members of AVALANCHE. Resignedly, the others followed him.
About halfway up they passed AVALANCHE again, this time going down.
“Cloud!” Tifa called after him. “Oh, I’m so relieved you’re okay! Hang on, who’s…”
Once they arrived back at the sixty-fifth floor, he was about to head down once more when the Author laid a restraining hand on his shoulder.
“How about we just wait here and let them come to us?” he suggested.
It took maybe ten seconds or so before the remainder of the terrorists joined them. Tifa immediately launched in with, “Who’s the new girl, Cloud?”, Barret cut her off with, “How’d you get out, then?”, while Perigee tried, “Ah, thank God, they’ve finally met each other.” Unfortunately, the sentences ran together to a certain extent and the overall effect was rather interesting, if completely incomprehensible.
Mr. Big and the Author met each other’s gaze and both shrugged in perfect synchronisation.
Aeris examined Cloud’s friends. The huge black man definitely seemed to be the leader, although she couldn’t for the life of her work out why he had a rabbit sitting on his shoulder. It didn’t really seem to fit with her initial impression of him.
The others seemed rather dwarfed by him, particularly as the other two men seemed to be hiding behind him. Aeris had to admit, though, she was slightly disappointed when she saw Cloud’s reaction to one of the girls. She chided herself. A handsome guy like that, it had been rather too much to hope that he was single.
“Yah, Author, booyaka-cha!” the rabbit on the black man’s shoulder began. “Make way for da AVALANCHE crew, they be da playas from da Himalayas! Booyak… hey, miss, don’t I know you from somewhere?”
It took Aeris a few moments to realise it was talking to her.
“I… I don’t think so,” she stammered, quite shocked at this.
The rabbit bunched its muscles and leaped through the air, landing neatly on the Author’s shoulder. “Let’s leave that lot to their reunion,” it suggested. “I don’t think we’ll get much interesting conversation out of them.”
“Hmm…” The Author watched AVALANCHE for a few moments. True, they did seem to be crowding round Cloud and paying almost no attention to him and Aeris, but he couldn’t help but notice that Perigee was staring at him out of the corner of his eye. That scientist guy obviously didn’t trust him.
“I apologise for my friend here,” he said to Aeris. “Mr. Big, meet Aeris. Aeris, meet Mr. Big.”
“A true pleasure to make your acquaintance, my dear,” Mr. Big said eloquently. Aeris blushed.
“You know each other?” she asked. It was quite a stupid question, she had to admit.
“I suppose you can think of him as my familiar,” the Author told her. “As long as you don’t let his endless lewd comments get to you, he’s quite a good companion.”
“Oh, thank you very much,” replied Mr. Big sarcastically.
“Hey, Cloud,” Barret shouted, so loudly that, not only could the Author and Aeris easily hear what he was saying, it was likely everyone in the entire tower could, “who’re the new guys?”
Cloud pointed to the Author and Aeris in turn.
“I’m sorry,” he said to the Author, “I didn’t catch your name…?”
“I’m the Author,” the Author informed him.
“Author?” exclaimed Barret. “What kinda name is that?”
“The name of the person who rescued your friend here,” the Author replied, completely undaunted by Barret’s attitude. “I am also in the process of helping him escape.”
“Um, yeah,” Cloud continued, anxious to prevent a disagreement, “this here is Aeris. She’s helping me escape, too.”
“Is she indeed?” Tifa put in automatically. She couldn’t help taking an instant dislike to this other girl. Anyone with the potential to take Cloud away from her was bad news, in her books. By that rule, the man… the author, as he obviously liked to be known, was fine. He was trying to help Cloud, so she liked him.
“Aeris, Author,” Cloud said, “this is Barret, Tifa, Perigee, Jessie, and Wedge.”
“Yo!”
“Hello.”
“Hi.”
“Are you really an author?”
“Um… hi?”
Cloud turned back to AVALANCHE. “Now,” he began, and stopped.
“What?” Barret asked.
Somewhere in the distance, there was a faint kshing noise, such as might be made by a sword being unsheathed, followed by an abruptly interrupted scream.
Cloud turned slowly, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword.
“…Sephiroth?” he muttered, striding off away from the escalators.
“Sephiwhat?” Barret asked. “What’s up with that guy now?”
“Sephiroth, Barret,” Perigee explained, trying not to smile. Ah, the plot was getting back on line already after the slight hitch at the start. “He said Sephiroth.”
“Ain’t Sephiroth that Shinra guy what got himself killed five years ago?”
“Yes.” Perigee pointed in the direction of Cloud’s retreating back. “Everyone, follow that Cloud!”

Warbling Croft looked up as someone knocked arrogantly on the door to his personal quarters. As far as he was aware, there was only one person in existence who could make even his knocks arrogant.
“Come in, Caroussis,” he called. “The door’s unlocked.”
Without saying anything, I, entered and walked up to him.
“What are you doing?” he snapped.
Croft waved an arm expansively to indicate the packing cases scattered around the room. “Apparently I’m being posted to some place called… the ‘Gold Saucer’ for an indefinite period,” he related. “There’s no telling how long I might be there until the Author and his group appear and I can join them, so I thought I’d better take stuff to do. I’m leaving in a couple of days, apparently.”
“The sooner the better,” said I,, and it sounded as if he truly meant it. “That is beside the point. I have just received a phone call from the Author himself. Apparently he is in the building at this moment.”
“Really? What’s he doing here?”
“He allowed himself to get captured. It seems he will be heading down to the foyer shortly and escaping, and he would like us to arrange transport for him.”
Croft stood up and stretched his arms.
“At least now I’ve got an excuse to get away from this packing,” he replied cheerfully. “I seem to remember seeing a bike down in the entrance hall. Won’t that do?”
I, gave him a disbelieving stare.
“There are nine of them,” he retorted coldly. “How would you have them get on the same vehicle? Stunt riding?”
“Good point.”
“On the other hand,” I, continued as the two walked out of Croft’s room and made their way towards the escalators, “I, does know of a certain truck that I believe may be of use to them.”

The others caught up to Cloud at the elevators, where he was tapping his foot impatiently. “Sephiroth took an elevator up,” he explained. “I’m waiting for the other one to get here.”
The doors opened, and the group piled in. Although the elevator car was one of those fancy large ones with glass walls, with this many people it was beginning to feel rather…cramped.
The doors closed again, and Barret peered up through the ceiling. “Yo, t’other car’s goin’ up, Cloud.”
“That looks like the 67th floor,” commented Perigee.
Cloud, the closest to the buttons, pressed the appropriate button. As the car shuddered into movement, Wedge leaned over to Jessie and whispered something. She reddened, then whispered something back. Perigee blinked twice, and began to say something, but stopped as the elevator slowed.
“Hey, this ain’t no 67th floor,” announced Barret. “What’s goin’ on?”
“I think,” answered the Author, “that someone else has called the lift.”
He was correct. The doors slid open and three men wearing suits and sunglasses squeezed in. Aeris stifled a gasp, and ducked. One of the men, with the greenish light of the elevator reflecting off his bald head, pointed vaguely upwards and said, “Would you press ‘Up,’ please?”
“That’s ridiculous,” declared a small black lapine voice. “There wouldn’t be an ‘Up’ button. You have to say which floor you want, not just indicate a general direction.”
Ignoring the voice of reason, Cloud pressed the button labelled ‘Up’ anyway, and the lift shuddered into movement once more. The Author crouched down next to Aeris.
“What’s the matter?” he enquired.
“Those are the Turks…and that man with the red hair is the one we met at the church.”
The Author stood up and examined the redhead. He was pressed up against Tifa in this sardine-can of a lift, and was trying not to grin. The Author quickly dropped to the floor again.
“You’re right,” he said quietly. “I just hope they don’t notice us. They won’t know who the others are.”
The car slowed again, finally stopping halfway between the 66th and 67th floors. The doors opened, and the Turks left as calmly as they had arrived.

“Bing! 67th floor. Contents classified.”
AVALANCHE bundled out of the lift, completely disregarding the rules of ‘ladies first’ and ‘one at a time’, and looked around the new floor. There was an assortment of technological junk to the left, and a series of corridors to the right.
“This doesn’t look promising,” mused the Author. “This is the same floor we were imprisoned on.”
“Hey…” said Perigee with growing interest. “This is one of Hojo’s floors.”
“Who?” asked Jessie.
“Professor Hojo. He’s Shinra’s lead scientist and researcher. Back when Professor Gast was still alive, the two of them were doing extensive research on the Cetra.”
“Yo, Perigee,” interrupted Barret. “Listen, I ain’t followin’ all this. There’s Sephir…oth? An’ now Hojo an’ Cetra? You gotta ‘splain some o’ this stuff.”
“Uh…are you sure this is the best time for that? We’re in the enemy stronghold, and you want us to stop while I tell you a story?”
“Dat’s right.”
“Well, I…”
“Oh, look!” shouted Aeris. Perigee sighed in relief, thankful for the interruption.
“What is it?” asked Cloud.
But she was gone, running towards a large glass container that stretched from floor to ceiling. Cloud shrugged, and walked after her, followed by the others. The container was, Cloud assumed, a prison of some sort, his assumption borne out by the red, lion-like animal trapped inside.
“Look, it’s on fire!” observed Aeris. “We’ve got to help it!” The tip of the animal’s tail was, in fact, alight, although the beast itself seemed oblivious to it. Aeris pressed her hands and face up against the glass, and for a moment, the creature looked back at her. Then, the bottom of the container began to rise, moving up towards a hole in the floor above.
“Let’s go! There’s some stairs over there!” shouted Aeris, sprinting towards the aforementioned staircase. Wedge and Jessie followed her, but Perigee distracted the others by saying, “Hey, this is new. What the…?”
He was inspecting a large metallic lump in the middle of the room, looking somewhat like the top half of a diving bell. As such, there was a single porthole on the side of it, from which a pinkish glow emanated.
“Hey, let me see,” ordered Cloud. 
He looked in…
I have returned…
We are vigilant…
Yes, I know it’s not 3D…
…or propane accessories?
I’m about to drop the hammer…
It all looks so different from this side…
…and dispense some indiscriminate justice…!
Cloud took a step back, dazed. “Jenova…” he mumbled.

(Perigee’s note: Hum, there seems to be a hole in the spacetime/plot continuum. That shouldn’t be happening at all. It looks almost as if…as if other stories are leaking through. What’s that? Fusion, eh? I’ll have to remember that…)

“Jenova?” asked Perigee incredulously. “That can’t be Jenova in there. I mean, Jenova’s supposed to be stored in Nibelheim,” he lied. “Professor Gast was very strict about that.”
“Listen, Mister Scientist,” rumbled Barret, “once we get outta here, you’re gonna tell us all about this stuff. But fer now, we’d better follow Wedge and Jessie.”
Tifa laid her hand on Cloud’s shoulder, and he snapped back to reality. “Nine Battlecruisers! Uh…yeah? Oh, right. Yeah, let’s go.”

“Don’t you think this’ll seem a bit out of place?” Croft called, leaning out of the window of the truck as he tried to manoeuvre it into a reasonable position. “After all, it’s not often you get a truck in the main hall of a company headquarters, is it?”
“Back a bit!” I, shouted at him, waving his arms and doing his best to steer him away from anything breakable. Thankfully he’d been able to persuade the receptionists to have the rest of the day off. It was a wonder no one had noticed them doing this yet.
“I said,” Croft repeated, turning to stare at I,, “DON’T YOU THINK…”
“Mind the -” I, began.
Crash!
“Well,” the finance director observed, looking thoughtfully at the remnants of what had been, until a few seconds ago, an attractive glass pillar, “I, supposes that destruction of such a scale pales in comparison to that which one can expect once the terrorists make their escape. You may as well leave it there.”
“I still think someone’ll notice,” Croft insisted, opening the driver’s door and hopping out onto the floor. “Oh, whatever. Shall I leave the keys in the ignition?”
“It would save them time if the engine were already running when they get down here,” I, pointed out. “Leave it as it is.”
Warbling Croft ambled over to him, and together the two stared up at the truck.
“The management isn’t going to like this,” Croft observed gloomily.

“What are they doing to that poor thing?” Jessie whispered, peering cautiously round the edge of the staircase at the large cylindrical glass holding chamber the lion creature was now trapped in. A couple of suited flunkies, under the order of a lab-coated man bearing more than a passing resemblance to a short-sighted owl, wandered round taking notes.
“I don’t know,” Aeris replied, “but we can’t let them do it, whatever it is. There must be some way to get it out…”
The scientist gazed aimlessly around the room, and Aeris hurriedly ducked back behind the stairs. She could have sworn he was staring at her through the metal, and she only exhaled another ten seconds later when he returned his attention to the creature.
“Are the mako jets ready yet?” he enquired. His voice really was incredibly soft, nothing like the traditional mad scientist cackle one expected. Aeris could barely make out what he was saying.
One of his subordinates inspected a computer terminal and shook his head. “Another couple of minutes!” he called back.
The scientist shook his head and advanced up to the glass. “Such a rare specimen,” he mused aloud. “All I need now is the second subject.” He didn’t even raise his head as three armed guards, having sneaked round behind Aeris and the other two, grabbed them and, with machine guns levelled at their chests, marched them forwards. “Ah, here it is now.”
He straightened up and inspected Aeris critically, who blushed. “Hmm… slightly imperfect, but acceptable. Not the best I’ve seen, but you will have to do.” He smiled knowingly. “I was wondering whether you would come to me or whether I’d have to dispatch a few of my underlings to fetch you. I suppose it was Sephiroth that made you come up, was it?”
“Sephiroth?” repeated Wedge.
Hojo waved a hand dismissively. “Please, don’t try to distract me. Yes, Sephiroth. He came through here a minute or so ago. Went upstairs. Why?”
“Oh, um… no reason!” exclaimed Wedge, trying to seem innocent.
“No matter,” Hojo remarked. He turned to the guards. “Put the subject in the testing chamber. These two can watch.”
“Hey, wha’ the hell’re those foo’s doin’ with Wedge ‘n’ Jessie?” shouted a Barrettish voice from the stairs. It was followed shortly by a Barret, who charged over into the centre of the room and waved his gun-arm around. “Who the hell d’you think you are?”
The scientist bowed extravagantly. “Dr. Melchior Hojo,” he replied calmly. “You may refer to me simply as, ‘Hojo.’ And to answer your previous question, I intend to do nothing with these two. It’s the one over there that holds my attention for the moment.”
The rest of AVALANCHE hurried up as Hojo’s peons hauled open a door in the side of the glass container and threw Aeris roughly inside. The animal inside made to escape, but a short burst from one of their machine guns persuaded it otherwise.
“Let her out!” Barret ordered, pointing his chaingun at Hojo. “C’mon, move it!”
“May I request you refrain from doing anything with that?” Hojo asked pleasantly. “You have no idea how long I have been waiting for those morons down in Operations to bring in this subject. The Cetra are a very rare breed, you know. Oh, and also,” he added as he noted Barret’s unsympathetic expression, “I’m the only one who knows how to get her out of there.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m gonna show yo’ another way!”
Barret spun round, already firing. A rain of bullets ricocheted off glass, not actually going through but doing quite considerable damage to the other devices in the room. Unfortunately, an alarm went off and some kind of luminescent gas began filtering into the chamber from jets in the ceiling.
“Help!” Aeris cried out. “Someone?”
Hojo sighed, watching resignedly as the group clustered around his experimentation chamber. “We’ll leave them to it,” he ordered his subordinates. “Come on. There are other things we can be working on. I’m sure we’ll have other opportunities for our research on the Ancient.”
“Aeris!” Cloud shouted. “Hang on, I’ll get you out!” Behind him, Tifa did such a good mocking impression of him that even Mr. Big smiled in appreciation.
Taking his sword in both hands, Cloud swung it in a huge arc that nearly decapitated the Author and Jessie before bouncing ineffectually off the glass wall.
“It’s the new type of glass!” Perigee called over from the other side of the room. “We were working on it before I quit! If you can make a regular or at least semi-regular lattice of silica and materiane, you end up with a material with almost two hundred times the compressive strength of normal glass! It’s to do with disrupting the -”
“So what do we do to break this?” Jessie shouted back.
“Well,” Perigee replied, “the only way we worked out - barring brute force, of course - would be to use some sort of gravity spell to effectively drag all the materiane into veins, thus giving perfect fracture lines! Of course,” he hit a button on the terminal he was standing next to and grinned cheerfully as the door in the chamber slid open once more, “there’s always a non-violent way, I find.”
Aeris sprinted out of the chamber, hurtling straight into the Author. She was followed closely by the lion creature, although it stopped abruptly when Barret fired a few shots across its path.
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t,” it snapped. It had a very refined voice, as if it had taken elocution lessons at some point.
“It talks?” Tifa exclaimed in surprise.
“Hey, you saying there’s anything wrong with talking animals?” Mr. Big retorted immediately.
The creature nodded towards him. “Ah, a kindred spirit,” it observed. “A true pleasure to meet all of you. I feel I may have been in considerable trouble had you not arrived. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Nanaki.”
“What exactly are you?” Tifa asked.
“What I am is unimportant. All that matters right now is that I would not object to leaving this building. By your demeanour, I assume that you too will be doing the same thing before too long. Would anyone object if I tagged along?”
The Author looked down at Aeris and smiled at her.
“You’re safe now,” he said comfortingly, noting her scared expression. “Come on, cheer up.”
Aeris clung to him for a moment, glad to have anything familiar to reassure herself.
“I’m sorry,” she said after a while, straightening up but unable to meet his gaze. “I just…”
The Author shrugged, hoping he wasn’t making too much of a fool of himself. He’d never been any good at sympathy. It was one aspect of his personality most people didn’t expect. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nice to know you trust me like that.”
“Aw, yeah!” Barret exclaimed, looking around. “Now, yo’… hey, where’d that science guy go?”
“Looks like he ran off, Barret,” Perigee observed smugly. Everything was really going well now. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the Author and Aeris standing rather too close to each other for his liking. Everything except those two. He’d have to watch out for that Author person.
There was a faint sound from the floor above.
“Hmm… footsteps,” Mr. Big commentated. Owing to his ears, he had by far the best hearing of anyone there. “Conversation… um… wait, sounds a bit like a sword scraping on something… more talking… more footsteps… getting quieter… pause…”
Something, sounding very faint as if it was two floors or more above, went thud. It was just about loud enough for all to hear, though, not just the rabbit.
“Um…” said Mr. Big. “Is anyone else thinking what I am?”
“Sephiroth!” exclaimed Cloud again, and immediately set off towards the huge staircase leading up. After a few seconds, the rest of the group trailed ineffectually after him.
“Who exactly is this Sephiroth anyway?” the Author wondered aloud as they followed.
Huh, thought Perigee darkly. As if you don’t know.
“He’s the guy who’s gonna blow up the world or whatever,” Mr. Big whispered. “The one we’re meant to stop, remember?”
“Yes, I know that,” the Author retorted, “but it’d be nice to know exactly who he is, wouldn’t it?”
The next floor - the sixth-ninth - was not exactly interesting. The only things of any interest whatsoever were the escalators leading back down, and the large ramps leading up. The only practical reason for including it in the building seemed to be so the President’s office could be on the seventieth rather than the sixth-ninth floor. There was, however, a rather obtrusive trail of blood leading up one of the two ramps, which Cloud promptly followed, the others hurrying behind him.
The huge hall above was far more ornate than… well, than the empty space below it. The floor was properly carpeted, and there were even one or two paintings hanging on the walls. A particularly plush red carpet led up to a desk, covered by miscellaneous sheets of paper. There was a metal seat behind it, currently unoccupied.
Perigee glanced around nervously. Where’s the president…? he mused anxiously. That old man had to die now. The plot could get very different if Rufus didn’t take over Shinra…
Aeris had wandered over to the desk and was checking to see if there was anything about her. Her gaze strayed to the wrong place, and she jumped back in shock and gasped.
“What’s up?” Cloud called, hurrying over to her. “Oh…”
Perigee joined the two of them, and couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. At least the old man was here. He’d just fallen off his seat, that’s all. Sephiroth had even gone and left the Masamune here, just like in the game. So far so good.
“It says something on this sword,” Jessie observed, apparently unfazed by the fact that the President was leaking on the floor in front of them. “‘Made in Mideel. Imitation Masamune, R.R.P. 1500 gil.’”
Perigee grinned widely, then remembered himself and hurriedly put on a more sombre expression.
He noticed that Barret in particular seemed a bit confused by the situation.
“Yo, whadda we do now?” he asked. “What’s gonna happen to Shinra now?”
Cloud shrugged. “Probably a power struggle between Heidegger, Scarlet, and Caroussis,” he answered. “They’ll just do the same thing as the President, but with less flair, that’s all.” He looked sideways sharply as a helicopter began to descend onto the balcony outside. “Oh, yeah. Forgot about him.”
“Who?”
“Rufus Shinra. The old guy’s son.”
“Ah.”
Through the tinted glass, a man in a light grey coat could be seen hopping out of the ‘copter. He glanced down as a large black animal leaped down after him, then raised his gaze and gave AVALANCHE a searching stare. A few seconds later, the helicopter floated up again and began to make its exit.
“Better go meet him,” Perigee suggested hopefully.

“…so you want to join the Turks then, Elena? What did you do?”
Elena shook her head in confusion, her cropped blonde hair swinging from side to side. “Do, Mr. Tseng? I don’t understand…”
Tseng raised his hand. “Please, call me Tseng. I insist. I can’t stand titles. And as for what I mean, well…most applicants have been sent by a disgruntled boss, rather than suffer an overt punishment. You see, the test is grueling, and not many surv…are accepted. In fact, at the moment the Turks have only three members - Reno, Rude and myself.”
“No sir, in fact, my boss begged me not to apply. But I want to join. The Turks are…” Elena waved her hand vaguely. “…my heroes. The few, the brave… the proud.”
Tseng blinked. Of course, that was the propaganda they put out, but he’d never expected anyone to believe it.
“I…” The phone rang. “Excuse me a moment.” He pressed a button that activated the speakerphone.
“Yes, what is it?”
“Sir, there appear to be some terrorists loose in the building. They have somehow managed to park a… a truck in the main foyer.”
“Terrorists, you say? I was sure Rude was dealing with them.” Tseng rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Elena, I’m sorry, but duty calls, I suppose.” She nodded her head understandingly.
“Where are they now?”
“Sir, I think… the President is dealing with them.”
“The President? Much as I respect the old man, I doubt he could take on a group of terrorists on his…”
“No, sir, I mean the… new President.” The guard on the other end of the phone had been dreading this moment. “The old president has been… uh… killed.”
“What?! Then… then… that idiot child of a Rufus is playing king with a group of terrorists? Alone?”
“Not quite alone, sir. He’s got Dark Na…”
“His dog-thing. Wonderful. Contact Reno and Rude and tell them to meet me in the President’s suite. That will be all.”
Tseng broke the connection, and turned back to Elena. “Alright, you’re accepted. As your first mission, you will accompany me to the 70th floor, where we’re going to kill some rebels. It’s only a few floors, so we’ll take the stairs.”

Rufus smiled humourlessly as he leaned on his shotgun and watched the party filing out, one by one. He reached down with his free hand and carelessly tapped Dark Nation, his pet dog/puma/strange magic-using monster, on its shoulder.
“So these are the terrorists we’ve heard about,” he remarked, deliberately loud enough for them to hear. “I guess, seeing as we’ll have to get rid of them sooner or later, we might as well do it now.”
“How on earth did this guy get here so fast?” Mr. Big muttered. “You’d think he knew it was going to happen or something.”
“We didn’t kill the President!” Wedge exclaimed jumpily. “That’s the great Sephiroth’s doing!”
Rufus waved a hand dismissively. “I don’t care who did it,” he informed them. “As far as I’m concerned, if he’s gone, I’m in charge. As simple as that. You just happen to be a nice convenient scapegoat to lay the blame on. And how ironic that I arrived just in time to avenge my father’s death. Won’t the headlines be wonderful?” He narrowed his eyes. “Who are you, anyway?”
“Cloud Strife, ex-SOLDIER.”
“I’m from AVALANCHE, ya vermin!”
“Me too!”
“And me!”
“Yeah, don’t forget about me!”
“A flower girl from the slums.”
“One of your ‘research’ specimens.”
“I’m just a scientist, don’t worry about me.”
“The name’s the Author, literary genius and incognito Cetra.”
Mr. Big took a deep breath.
“Booyaka! Me be da rabbit in black.
Booyaka! Me don’t be cuttin’ no slack.
If ya want a piece a me,
Ya will see that me… can… be…” His voice trailed off as he felt the others’ questioning stares on him. “Hey, what’s the matter, never heard a rabbit rap before?”
Rufus stared impassively at them. He’d stopped listening after about the fourth or fifth introduction, although Mr. Big’s had been almost enough to bring his attention back.
“I don’t really care, you know,” he informed them. “It’s just that I don’t really feel like killing you yet, either. Would you like to hear my inauguration speech?”
Aeris sidled over to the Author.
“What do you mean, you’re a Cetra?” she asked indignantly in a loud whisper. Thankfully none of the others were paying them any attention. “No, you’re not!”
The Author stared at her. “Oh, damnit, you’re an Ancient, aren’t you?” he muttered once he realised. “Look, I’ll explain the whole business once we’re clear of this, okay? Just don’t blow my cover.”
Mr. Big glared at Rufus. He’d been hoping for at least one compliment on his rap.
“No,” he snapped coldly.
Rufus shrugged. “Fine. Your loss. You won’t get to hear it now.”
Cloud turned to the others.
“Get out,” he ordered. For the first time, it sounded as if he actually knew what he was doing. “I’ll handle this. You just escape.”
“A self-sacrifice for one’s friends?” Rufus smiled. “Fine by me. Just as long as you don’t all survive, I’ll have at least one body to lay the blame on. Go on, the rest of you, get going. I’d rather not spend all day on this.” He looked at his watch. “It’s almost quarter past three. There are so many other things I could be doing right now.”
“I’m not going anywhere until you explain what you’re on about!” Aeris whispered. “Who are you?”
The Author glared at her. “Listen to me,” he growled. “Unless you want me to knock you out and carry you over my shoulder, you will get moving. I have absolutely no intention of letting you die here.”
“Yo, Cloud!” Barret called over. “You gonna be okay?”
Cloud nodded. “Yeah, I can take on this guy. You just get moving.”
“He seems resolute enough,” Red commented, already padding back towards the door leading inside. “I would recommend we take his advice.”
The others followed, Tifa looking back worriedly over her shoulder at the two men.
“So how do we get down?” Wedge asked.
“I know the way,” Perigee replied. “Stairs down to floor 68, that rather unstable lift to 67, then we can use one of the proper ones to get back down to ground level.”
They followed him as he headed down to Hojo’s lab and began retracing their steps back towards the lift.
Bringing up the rear, the Author couldn’t help noticing that Tifa seemed to be rather reluctant to leave Cloud behind.
“Worried about him?” he asked quietly, and smiled when she turned her rather concerned face towards him. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll go back and look after him.”
Tifa nodded silently, and he patted her gently on the shoulder. “I sincerely doubt he’s going to get himself killed this soon,” he reassured her. “Wait for us, won’t you?”

“So…”
Rufus twirled his shotgun a few times around his wrist, flipped it up into the air and caught it with both hands, one on the trigger, one on the barrel. “Do you want to try and attack me or shall I just shoot you now?”
Rather sensibly considering the circumstances, Cloud didn’t bother answering. He charged forwards, bunched his muscles, and leaped eight or nine feet in the air. Holding his sword behind his head, he bore down on Rufus like a meteor.
The first blast knocked the sword out of his hands. He landed uselessly a foot or so in front of his adversary, his blade spiralling off until it smashed through the window and, rather neatly, skewered the old president.
The second blast hit him in the chest, launching him backwards until he hit the edge of the balcony.
Two pairs of eyes watched them from inside.
“I think this might be where he needs help,” the Author suggested. He took the medallion from around his neck and placed both hands around the red materia set within. Crimson light spilled out from between his fingers and illuminated the room as he murmured, “Renzokuken.”
“Renzowhat?” Mr. Big asked. “What on earth’s that?”
The Author shrugged. “I haven’t a clue, to be honest. This Summon Cameo Character materia just summons whoever’s going to be the most useful in the situation. It sort of puts the words into my mouth.”
Rufus calmly fitted another couple of shells into his shotgun and watched the prostrate figure squirm. “Nice try, I admit,” he said consolingly. “If you would permit me to make a suggestion, though, perhaps a more direct attack might have been more successful. Would you like to try again?”
Cloud reached out for his sword. Once he realised it wasn’t anywhere near, he placed both hands on the railing beside him and just about managed to haul himself back to his feet. He glared at Rufus with bloodshot eyes. This, combined with their usual mako green glow, made his stare particularly unnerving.
Rufus laughed harshly. “You want to try and run at me again? Beat me up?” He raised his shotgun and levelled it at Cloud. “Oh well. At least you can tell your friends in the lifestream you died for a good… what the…?”
He spun round as a blinding light suddenly burst forth from the ground behind him. Even with his hand in front of his eyes he could still see it, and afterimages flashed across his vision as it died down sufficiently to reveal the figure of a man.
This mysterious figure was unusual, to say the least. He was reasonably tall, and wore an immaculate pinstriped suit originally tailored for someone half his height and twice his width, giving him an overall look of stretched bagginess. In his right hand he clutched a strange weapon. It was little more than a long iron pole with a lump of metal at one end. In fact, it was remarkably similar to -
“A golf club?” Rufus murmured in amazement. “And after such an impressive entrance, as well.”
The man took his club in both hands and held it behind his head. A blinding light emanated from the shaft for a few seconds before he sprinted forwards, landing blow after blow on Rufus’ head and shoulders. The president raised his gun, but a stray stroke from the club knocked it cleanly out of his hand and over the edge.
The Author couldn’t hold back a grin. “You know, out of all the characters I’ve met,” he mused, “I never thought it would be him.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Mr. Big agreed. “Mr. Snivelling Brisk, true gentleman and ace golfer, hardly seems the most obvious choice to win a battle, does he? He seems to be doing well enough, though. And that combo he’s doing fits in pretty well. Must be all that time he spent around you.”
“Possibly.” The Author began hurrying over to Cloud. “Anyway, we’d better get our guy out of there. I did promise Tifa he wouldn’t die yet.”
Dark Nation, not overly keen on sitting by while its master got himself thoroughly beaten, decided to join in the fun and leaped towards his aggressor. It was almost on him when the club head came swinging round and sent it the same way as the shotgun.
“Is he…? Yes, I think he is!” Mr. Big commented, concentrating on the club. “He’s using the three iron!”
“Oh, dear,” the Author muttered. “Someone’s going to get seriously hurt.”
“Yeah,” the rabbit concurred happily. “Rufus.”
Cloud didn’t say anything as the Author gripped him firmly around the waist and slung him over his left shoulder. Cloud was not a slight man, and it was only due to the Author’s Mega Plus materia that he was able to stay upright with the added weight.
The sudden golfer drove the head of his club into Rufus’ stomach, and, as he staggered backwards, switched seamlessly into a standard golfing pose. Sparks encircled his club as he drew it back, and, leaving a faint blue trail behind it, brought the head swinging up under the president’s chin. Rufus somersaulted at least four or five times before his trajectory brought him close enough to his helicopter for his wildly flailing hands to grab onto one of the struts.
The man shouldered his club, and only now did he catch sight of the Author.
“Would you care to explain what I’m doing here?” he shouted over. “You know I was three up on the sixteenth?”
The Author shrugged. “Sorry about this, Snivelling. Look, just follow me, will you? I’ll explain the whole business on the way.”

The Turks met briefly on the 70th floor.
Tseng said, “Rude, you were supposed to be taking care of AVALANCHE. What happened?”
“……,” explained Rude. “…….”
“Oh,” said Tseng, mollified. “Well, okay, that’s understandable. Reno, what’s happening with Sephiroth?”
“He’s long gone.” Reno shrugged. “I think it was probably him and not those terrorists who took out the old man. But which would the public rather believe?”
“You’ve got a point.”
“……,” said Rude quietly.
“They’re getting away?” asked Tseng rhetorically. “Then Sephiroth can wait. They’re not going to get away with this! The public needs them!”
“And we have to avenge the death of the President!” said Elena devoutly.
Tseng glanced sidelong at her. “Don’t get carried away, now.”

“Hey…isn’t that a…?” asked Jessie.
It was. Measuring thirty cubits by ten cubits by fifteen cubits, “…a Mark VII Ebulliant Onroad Juggernaut! This came top of the Road Rage Food Chain! They say you can hit a behemoth with this thing without even denting the bumper!” She broke down and began sobbing quietly into her hands.
“What’s wit’ her?” asked Barret bluntly.
“I think she’s in love,” replied Wedge.
“Wha’ever. C’mon, let’s get outta this junkheap!”
“But what about Cloud and the Author?” asked Tifa.
“Aw, they can catch up with us. Let’s go, I’m bored.”

“So what’s the deal?” Snivelling Brisk enquired as he followed the Author back through the President’s hall, collecting Cloud’s sword on the way. “If I suddenly disappear from the course and end up in this sort of place, it’s pretty certain you’ve got to be behind it.”
The Author opened his mouth to answer, then glanced towards his cargo.
“Cloud? You with us?” he asked.
“Huh?” Cloud murmured. “Yeah… sorta…”
“Right.” The Author reached down with his right hand and grabbed his dictionary from through his belt. He took a few seconds working out the blow, then brought the book heavily down on the back of Cloud’s head.
“Cloud? Still with us?” he repeated.
No answer this time.
“Good,” the Author said, turning back to Snivelling. “In short, this is another one of the Almighty’s cock ups. Apparently we have an unidentified ‘FG’ here, who knows that, at some point, a certain man is going to try and kill a girl and blow the planet up. We’ve got to stop him, apparently.”
“The Lord must be really desperate to call on you,” Snivelling observed drily. “Why not the LTF? And why just you two? What about Croft, and Caroussis? And the Major, for that matter.”
“The others are around somewhere,” the Author replied cryptically. “As for the LTF, I think there’s a team already integrated that I’m supposed to be rendezvousing with. Haven’t been able to spot any obvious team members, though.”
“So why’ve you brought me into this? I thought we agreed when we split up that I wasn’t going to have any more to do with you? And why did I suddenly appear doing that… that rather stylish move?”
“Well, this is basically a fantasy computer game. That sort of explains your wonderful attack back then. Well done on that, by the way.”
“Thank you.”
“And as for why you’re here, I wrote myself this for use in emergencies.” The Author held up his materia for inspection. “It allows me to ‘summon’ a random character I’ve come into contact with for a brief period. That’s summons for a brief period, not came into contact with for a brief period. I wrote it so it chooses the most suitable character for the situation, and I guess you were the best it could come up with.”
“So I’m going to disappear again soon?”
“Yes.”
“And I could well end up being summoned again?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“So, what you’re saying is, effectively, that I shouldn’t make any important arrangements for the next few weeks.”
The Author smiled.
“That may well be the best course of action. Come on, though. Wouldn’t you love to save another world?”
“No. I had quite enough of you and your antics during the years we were together. I just want to relax now for the rest of my life.” Snivelling looked down at himself. “I seem to be becoming transparent.”
“Perhaps that’s you returning to your game,” the Author suggested. “Maybe you can stay here for longer once I get used to this thing.”
“Oh, well. I suppose it’s nice to see you again, in a way. Existence been treating you -”
He disappeared completely from view.
“I’m sure he’ll resign himself to the idea of helping us out,” Mr. Big pointed out. “He’s that sort of person.”
“Mmf?” Cloud mumbled, opening his eyes. “Wh… what happened there?”
“You really must watch your head on those door frames,” the Author chided him. “You’ve been out for a good few minutes.”
“Oh,” Cloud replied wearily, and promptly lost consciousness once more.

Tseng moved purposefully through the Shinra garage. Hardly anyone came down here, anymore. The trains were cheap and efficient, and every gil of profit they generated went straight to the company. Most of the employees had been persuaded to sell their vehicles to the company for scrap metal, but hardly any of them had been put to this purpose. This place was a storehouse for what was left, and the various sportsters, 4x4s and student cars were covered with dust and cobwebs in democratic equality.
The others were waiting for him outside. Reno had been scaring Elena with ghost stories about this place, so she hadn’t dared come in. Reno himself stayed with her, as she was the only available female in close proximity. And Rude…well, Rude had decided to stay as well. Enough said.
Tseng opened a warped cupboard, revealing several twisted keys and a tattered sheet of paper. He scanned the paper professionally. As he had expected, it detailed which keys went with which vehicles, and in what state of disrepair those vehicles were.
“Hmm…not much of a selection.” He stared at the sheet for a few seconds, before tapping a finger briefly on one entry. He took the appropriate key from its hook, and headed off into the gloom.

“Bing! Ground floor! Foyer, reception, and…”
The Author didn’t bother waiting to hear what else was on this floor. He beckoned to Cloud to follow him, and stepped out into the main hall.
“I think your friend Barret happened here,” he announced eventually. It can’t be easy to knock down an entire wall, but somehow the others had managed it on their way out. He looked down, and nodded in satisfaction. There were quite distinct tyre tracks leading out through the wa… through where the wall had been, out onto the road running alongside the HQ. So, it looked like Croft and Caroussis had managed to find an escape vehicle. The Author made a mental note to thank those two when they got back together. Too bad Barret and co. hadn’t waited for them, though.
“Looks like they got away,” Cloud observed. “They probably thought we’d be able to get out on our own.”
“Yeah, sounds right,” Mr. Big agreed. “So what do we do now?”
The Author looked around, and opened his mouth to say something. He closed it abruptly and spun round, though, as a large motorbike hurtled down the main stairs into the foyer, making a loud badabadabada noise. There appeared to be four suited people desperately trying to fit on it - three men, and one woman. One of the men, a particularly tall guy who seemed to have outgrown his hair, waved at them and called out, “……!” as they passed.
The Author and Cloud turned in perfect synchronisation to watch them as they shot out onto the road, following AVALANCHE’s tyre tracks.
“Well,” said the Author eventually. “They’re the… the Turks, aren’t they?” Cloud nodded. “They’re probably heading after our friends, then, aren’t they?”
Cloud nodded again.
The Author looked around. “In that case, we’d better find some way of following them,” he mused. “Travelling on foot won’t be good enough - Cloud won’t be able to run that fast. There must be something around here we can use…”
“How about that bike?” Mr. Big suggested sarcastically, pointing at it with an ear. The Author stared at it, and nodded.
“We’ll fit both of us on there,” he remarked. “It’ll do. Come on.”
“You can’t be serious?” Cloud objected. “We’ll never keep up!”
The Author hauled the bike out into the centre of the room. “Of course we will,” he replied calmly. “Look, it’s got two sets of pedals. With both of us at it, we’ll catch them up in no time. Don’t argue,” he added as Cloud opened his mouth to do so. “Just trust me here, okay?”
“Could I just point out something, in case you haven’t realised?” Mr. Big interrupted. “That thing is a tandem bicycle, not a finely-tuned motorbike with several thousand horsepower. Our friends are in something with,” he glanced at the tracks on the floor, “twelve wheels, and those Turk guys are giving chase on one hell of a motorbike. How do you expect to keep up?”
The Author placed one hand on his materia amulet. “Mega Plus,” he said as if it explained everything. “Speed +200%. Stamina +200%. Strength +200%. Let’s see how well it works, shall we?”
A wide grin gradually spread across Mr. Big’s face. He took off his sunglasses, polished the lenses, and put them back on.
“Let’s burn rubber,” he commanded.

“Jessie, where are we going?” asked Perigee innocently.
“Dunno,” she replied. “I’ve never been on this road before. There don’t seem to be any offramps, so we’re just going where the road takes us.”
Wedge spoke up, mainly to keep his mind off the zzing of the passing lampposts, “You know, I’ve been thinking - what’s it like outside the city?”
Thank God, thought Perigee. They’re showing some interest in the outside world. Much better than the original.
“It’s a lot greener,” answered Tifa, “and you can see the sky. I’ve been told that people who have lived in Midgar all their life tend to feel rather unprotected in the open though.”
“Yo, this is sweet an’ all, but we’ve got company,” interrupted Barret, who was sitting towards the back of the juggernaut, watching the road appear from under the wheels. “There’s someone followin’ us on a motorbike.”
Sure enough, there was a motorcycle close behind them. A group of people in suits - oh, never mind, we all know who they are - Tseng was steering, with Elena holding onto him tightly around his waist. Reno was holding onto the back of the motorcycle for dear life, and Rude was hanging onto Reno’s ankles, flinging copious amounts of punctuation in all directions every time they went round a sharp turn.
“Uh oh…” Aeris murmured. “It’s the Turks.”
“Ain’t they them Shinra goons?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, right.” Barret waved his gun-arm in the air. “Hey, yo’ Shinra scum! C’mon an’ do yo’ worst!”
“Hang on, aren’t they those guys from the lift?” Reno observed, gradually clawing his way forwards until he could, hopefully, find himself a seat on the bike.
Tseng raised his head. “Oh, no…” he muttered to himself. “Could we really have been that stupid?”
“……,” agreed Rude.
Tseng took one hand momentarily off the bike and produced his PHS from within his jacket. “I’m currently tailing a group of terrorists down the R-3,” he spoke into it. “I want the Gate 7 barricade set up.”
“So what do we…” Reno’s voice trailed off as he happened to glance back. “Uh, guys…?”
Approaching from behind and gaining on them at a frightening speed was… well, it was a tandem bicycle. Two sets of pedals and everything. The man at the front, who Reno recognised as the guy from the church, was pedalling so fast that his legs were literally no more than a faint blur. That Strife terrorist was sitting behind him, gripping the bike so hard his knuckles were white.
For some reason, there was a wire basket attached to the handlebars, in which a large black rabbit was sitting, enjoying the feel of the wind through its fur.
They rocketed past the Turks, the rear wheel of the bicycle leaving a cartoon-like trail of flame along the road behind it.
“Hey, Author?” Mr. Big enquired as they came up alongside the juggernaut, “I know I suggested we burn rubber, but I didn’t mean it literally.”
“What? Oh, you mean the fire? Don’t worry, that’s just this materia I wrote. ‘Special FX,’ mastered, you know.”
“Remind me again what that one does?”
“Just makes things look more impressive, that’s all. You know, more sparkly bits on cure spells and that sort of thing.”
“Oh, right.” Mr. Big looked back as they passed AVALANCHE’s truck and continued away from it. “You know, we’ve missed them.”
“Yeah, I know,” the Author replied. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a Plan.”
“Whoopee.”
“Wha’ the hell was that?” Barret asked, now sitting with his legs dangling out of the back of the juggernaut and giving the Turks a certain, ‘Come and have a go if you think you’re hard enough,’ look.
“I think,” Tifa suggested uncertainly, “it was the Author and Cloud.”
“Gotcha.” Barret shrugged and turned back to the Turks, as if that explained it all.
Already a couple of hundred metres ahead of them, the Author gripped the handlebars even tighter. “Hang on back there,” he said to Cloud. “I’m going to try something to get rid of our pursuers.”
Cloud nodded mutely. It wasn’t the speed that bothered him right now. It was the fact that he was a passenger on a bicycle ridden by a lunatic who didn’t seem to care how fast they were going that really got to him.
“Good. Here goes…”
The Author took a deep breath and twisted the handlebars to roughly ninety degrees for a split second. Still trailing fire, the back wheel swung round, until they were now headed back the other way.
Straight towards the oncoming lorry.
“Mmmnnn…” Cloud managed in terror.
“Um… Tseng, sir?” Elena piped up. “What are we going to do about stopping them?”
“I’m working on it,” Tseng muttered under his breath. “Reno, Rude, you’re going to have to be our boarding party.”
“……?” Rude exclaimed, so shocked he almost let go of Reno.
“That black guy’s gonna shoot us!” Reno added.
“Look,” Tseng began reasonably.
What took place next happened so fast that, were this book a film, slow motion effects would have been necessary to show what actually occurred. The Author came barrelling down one side of the truck, reached the rear end, and pulled his bicycle into a sharp skid, taking it underneath the motorbike’s front wheel. The Turks’ motorbike stopped accordingly, while, unfortunately, the Turks themselves did not. All four were flung forwards into Barret, while the Author somehow managed to get his bicycle upright once more and began following at a distance.
Cloud turned his head to one side and was heartily sick.
The three senior Turks had considerable experience in situations like this and all managed to hit the inside of the truck rolling. Elena was rather less used to these matters and hit it face first.
“Hey, that does it!” Barret shouted, getting to his feet and flicking the safety catch on his gun-arm. “I pity da foo’ who mess up my van!”
Reno rapidly drew his electro-mag rod, spun it a couple of times round his wrist with the ease that comes only from many long hours practising, and pressed a button at one end.
Like the Author before him, Barret suddenly found himself encased in a shimmering silver pyramid.
“  ’?” he shouted, firing randomly and pointlessly at it. “       ?”
“Could you try to stop them getting this far?” Jessie asked, without even turning her head. “Only this is rather difficult to drive as it is…”
“Don’t worry!” Wedge exclaimed, hurrying over to the nearest Turk, who happened to be Rude. “I’ll make sure they -”
“……, ……,” Rude muttered darkly, rubbing his knuckles. “…….”
Perigee sized up their team. Cloud was with the Author, so that left himself, Tifa, Aeris, Nanaki, and We… no, not Wedge any more.
“Don’t worry about the girl,” he advised the others. “She’s not much good compared to the other three.”
“I resent that!” Elena exclaimed, picking herself up. She put one hand inside her jacket and took out a small cloth parcel, maybe half a foot square. “You know what this is? This could blow up the entire vehicle!”
Perigee nodded amiably to her, and produced a test tube from one of his pockets. “You know what this is?” he asked, and threw it at her.
The phial hit the floor at her feet and cracked, releasing a dense fog up into the air and soon obscuring her completely from view. They only heard the thud as the trichloromethane (or chloroform, to those of a less chemically-minded disposition) did its work.
“Most ingenious,” Nanaki remarked calmly. “May I suggest we now concentrate our attentions on the remainder?”
“Yeah, you lot do that,” Perigee replied, searching through the many pockets of his lab coat. “I’m sure I’ve got it in here somewhere…”
Without waiting for the others, Nanaki bounded forwards, claws at the ready. A couple of metres from the Turks he slowed, bunched his muscles, and leaped towards Reno.
He was met by the painful end of Reno’s lightning rod, and suddenly the air was filled with the characteristic ‘burning tin’ smell of electricity.
“They’re not very good, are they?” Reno commented. “I mean, already there’s only four of them left.”
Perigee finally found what he was looking for and turned his attention back to the Turks. “Right, everyone!” he announced. “I’ll handle the bald guy. Aeris, go hit that pyramid around Barret. Tifa, you handle Reno. Okay?”
“Um… okay?” Aeris agreed uncertainly.
Rude looked his adversary up and down. “……, …… …,” he commented scornfully.
“That’s not particularly nice,” Perigee retorted, waving another test tube around. “I bet you couldn’t, even with both hands.”
“…….” Rude shrugged, then ran forwards, swinging a punch at head height. Perigee ducked easily under it, hopped to one side, and collided with the wall of the truck.
Aeris tried to seem small and inconsequential as she hurried towards where Barret was pounding on the inside of his pyramid and swearing inaudibly at it. What had Perigee said? Hit it?
Tseng caught the end of her staff as she swung it towards the translucent container.
“I’m sorry,” he said, sounding almost genuinely remorseful. “I can’t let you do that.”
“But… why are you doing this? Don’t you know what’s going to happen? This is for -”
Tseng shrugged. “Yes, for the Planet, of course. Look, I’m just doing my job. You know me.” He easily wrenched the staff from her grip and threw it over his shoulder, where it rolled towards the back of the juggernaut and, without attracting too much attention to itself, fell out. “Aeris, if possible I can let you escape, but the others need to be apprehended. Bear with me on this.”
Perigee staggered back towards Rude, holding his forehead with one hand. The Turk smiled grimly at him, sidestepped round behind him, and took hold of him in a painful headlock.
“Let go of me!” Perigee shouted, flailing his arms about uselessly.
“……?” Rude replied innocently.
“Oh…” The grip around Perigee’s neck was making breathing difficult. In a last ditch attempt to break free, he vigorously shook the test tube he was still holding, and, praying that he hadn’t misjudged the ratio in the mixture, smashed the tube on Rude’s leg, which was the only part of the Turk he could reach.
The blast sent both parties flying - Rude into the wall, and Perigee into Jessie, who said reproachfully, “Look, I’m trying to drive this thing.”
Reno spotted Tifa and made his way over to her, dodging a flying Rude on the way. As he approached, though, he began to find his attention diverted somewhat from what he was meant to be doing.
By the time he got close enough to actually hit her, he’d decided that his orders could wait. He went shamelessly down onto one knee and flung both arms around her leg.
“I’ve always loved you!” he exclaimed. “Marry me!”
Tifa looked down, drew back her foot, and delivered it with some force into his groin. Reno gasped in pain, then, in response to the call of cliché, opened his mouth and uttered the immortal line heard in all such situations.
“I… I like a girl… with… spir… ugh…”
Tifa smiled and nudged him towards the back of the truck with her foot. As he rolled over the edge and hit the road, she turned back to the others.
Tseng’s fist hit her in the face. Even as she recoiled from the blow, he delivered another two lightning-fast punches into her chest and finished with a roundhouse kick that sent her sprawling.
“Pathetic,” he muttered, ignoring her as she fell and heading towards Jessie in the driver’s seat.
He tried to spin round as he felt someone grip his shoulder, but he wasn’t fast enough and Tifa had already twisted his arm round behind his back by the time he’d worked out what was going on. She planted one foot against his back and kicked out, pulling down on his arm at the same time. Tseng’s legs shot forwards, while his body went downwards, so the net result was that he ended up on his back at her feet.
These scenes are rather difficult to describe in words. You’ll have to imagine it as if it were a film.
Somehow - and it’s a good thing, really, that this isn’t a film, otherwise this next bit would be very difficult to do - Tseng managed to get his feet underneath him as he hit the floor. He sprung back up, flipped over her head, and smashed one shoulder into her back. Turning his back on her without even waiting to see whether he’d floored her, he strode hurriedly over to the front of the lorry.
“Now,” he said calmly, drawing a pistol from his belt and holding it to Jessie’s head, “everyone, just stay where you are.” He turned to Jessie. “Stop the truck.”
Jessie kept driving, concentrating so hard on the road ahead that she hadn’t really noticed he was there.
Tseng sighed. “Look, my dear, I can drive this just as well as you. I’d prefer not to have to kill any of you, but I will if necessary. Stop now.”
“Do what he says,” Perigee told her resignedly, trying to pick himself up. Where had it all gone wrong?
Suddenly he realised. They hadn’t had Cloud on the bike behind them. And why not? The Author.
Jessie turned her head to look at him. “I… um…” she stammered, spotting the gun for the first time. “If you shoot me we’ll crash…?”
“Um, Jessie?” Perigee asked nervously, happening to look through the windscreen.
“That’s why I’d rather not kill you,” Tseng continued reasonably. “It could get messy. Okay, I will count to five. On five, I will fire. One.”
“Jessie?” Perigee repeated.
“Two.”
“JESSIE!”
Perhaps it should be explained what exactly was causing Perigee such concern. Readers with acute minds may recall that, a few paragraphs up, Tseng asked for the ‘Gate 7 barricade’ to be set up. This barricade turned out to be a huge tank-type contraption, at least twelve feet high and armed with all sorts of weaponry, sitting right in the middle of the road.
Not watching where she was driving, Jessie didn’t even try to avoid it.
All in all, it was rather fortunate that they were driving such a powerful truck, as any lesser one would probably have crumpled under the impact. As it was, the juggernaut stopped abruptly, the tank was barged off the road and Tseng was catapulted straight through the windscreen.

The members of AVALANCHE still standing - that’s Tifa, Aeris, Jessie, and Perigee - hopped out of the back of the juggernaut, with varying degrees of accuracy. Perigee was still rather stunned from his duel with Rude and took four attempts before he finally managed to get out. By chance, one of his misjudged leaps took him into Barret’s pyramid, which shimmered one last time before fading away.
“…an’ yo’ mama was…” he was saying to it. “Heeey! I’m out! Did we win?”
“Yeah,” Tifa replied, not entirely sure. “I think so.”
Jessie was busy inspecting the juggernaut’s engine. “Well, whoever won, we’re not going anywhere in this,” she said, trying to hold back tears. This was an emotional moment for her. “This… this isn’t going to drive again.”
“Oh!” Aeris gasped and hurried over to where the leader of the Turks was lying in front of the vehicle, face down. “Tseng!”
“Yeah, wha’ about him?” Barret muttered dismissively, clambering out of the truck with Wedge and Elena over either shoulder and dragging Nanaki by the tail. “C’mon, girl, he’s workin’ for the Shinra, remember?”
Behind him, a tandem bicycle materialised through the gloom and rocketed towards them. It hit the back of the juggernaut and launched both its passengers into the truck with a cry of, “What? They’ve stooopped…”
Tifa hurried round to the back of the vehicle and peered in. “Cloud?” she cried. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, thanks,” replied the Author’s voice, perhaps just a little nastily. “How’s everyone?”
“We’re okay,” Tifa replied, as the two men got to their feet and walked slowly out into the open, “although Wedge and Nanaki got knocked out.”
The Author hopped out of the back of the truck, closely followed by Cloud. “Would anyone mind if I supported myself on their shoulders for a bit?” he asked hopefully, looking around.
“Why?”
“Well, after all that pedalling, my legs are going to give up on me in a -” The Author’s knees buckled under him and he collapsed, face first, onto the asphalt. “Ah, there they go…”
Completely oblivious to anything going on behind her, Aeris knelt over Tseng’s body. There was a gradually spreading red patch on the road around him.
“Live,” she whispered, placing both hands lightly on his shoulders. “Please, Tseng. Don’t die.”
For the moment, attention was focused around Cloud and the unconscious members of AVALANCHE, and so the only one to pay her much interest was Mr. Big, still stuck firmly in the bicycle’s basket. He wormed his way out from under the mangled frame, and stared thoughtfully at her through his sunglasses. “Huh…”
“What now?” Jessie enquired. “We can’t stay here. They’ll send soldiers after us.”
“We gonna head back to the hideout,” Barret decided. “We done two reactors, but that still leaves six to go! We gotta… yeah, wha’?”
“Barret, Sephiroth is still alive,” Cloud reminded him gently. “This is more important than the reactors.”
“Huh? Who’s this Sephiroth anyway?”
“We can explain later,” Perigee interrupted, feeling that perhaps he should help keep the plot on track. “Sephiroth is a recognised menace. He’s a danger to the Planet.”
“Wha…?”
“I heard someone in the Shinra HQ say he was heading to the east, away from the city,” Perigee continued, adlibbing remarkably well. “We need to…”
“…follow him,” Cloud finished for him.
“Sephiroth…” Tifa murmured. Of course she knew about him - everyone had heard of ‘the Great Sephiroth.’ But… she imagined not many people had… ‘first hand’ experience…
She shuddered involuntarily.
“So… what’s the decision?” the Author enquired, wandering up with Mr. Big on one shoulder and supporting himself on Wedge. It was clear he wasn’t exactly finding it easy to prop even his meagre weight up.
“I… we…” Barret replied decisively. “I mean, Seph… aw, damnit! I dunno!”
“They were saying Rufus was going to head after Sephiroth,” Perigee added, sensing that perhaps Barret could do with a little more persuasion. “I reckon this would give you a chance to meet him again.”
Barret thought for a few seconds more, then looked up. There was a sudden light of determination in his eyes.
“Wha’ever!” he exclaimed. “Yeah, we gonna follow that Sephi… Sephiroth guy! But this is waaay over my head, yo’ hear? Yo’ can handle Sephiroth. I just wanna get my hands on that good for nothin’ brat of a president…”
Phew, Perigee thought to himself. That was too close. Still, at least we’re moving now.
I wonder where the others are, added the voice of his past. Kea, Kasuto, and Ess… I’d have expected to meet up with at least one of them by now.
“So you are leaving the city?” Nanaki remarked. “Hmm. Perhaps I shall accompany you. I too am -”
“Hey, hang on a damn second!” Barret suddenly announced. “Wha’ about Marlene? We can’t jes’ leave her here!”
“Who’s Marlene?” the Author whispered to Wedge.
“His daughter.”
“Oh.” The Author turned to Barret. “If you like, I have some friends in the city I can get in touch with. They can take your daughter somewhere safe if you want.”
“Huh? But…” Barret glanced at the others. “Aw, fine. Yo’ know where she is?”
“I assumed you were going to tell me.”
“We have a pub called the ‘Seventh Heaven’ in sector 7,” Tifa put in. “She’ll be there.”
The Author nodded. “Excuse me,” he said to Wedge, turning and staggering off. “Thanks for your help.”
“No problem!” Wedge called after him.
The Author made his way round the other side of the juggernaut and took a mobile phone from his jeans pocket. It is one of the incontrovertible laws of literature that any fairly commonplace device needed only occasionally can always be found either inside one’s jacket or in one’s pockets. The same seems to be true of certain foodstuffs. In one particularly cold storyline, the Author and his group had survived in the Antarctic for three weeks by living off the miraculous supply of biscuits they’d found in Croft’s coat.
He tapped a number into it, held it to his ear, and waited impatiently for a few seconds.
“Ah, I,,” he said. “It’s me again… Yes, we got out alright, thanks… No, they weren’t too much of a problem. Look, is Croft there?… Well, could you get him for me? I have a little errand I need him to do for me…”
“Does anyone happen to know where we are, though?” Jessie asked. “I think we’re below the top plate, but there weren’t any signs and I don’t even know which sector we’re in.”
“I know this place,” Aeris interjected. “This is near my house. We’re in sector five.”
“So you can take us to the gate?” Cloud said. Aeris nodded.
“Yes, I think so. But…”
“Any next of kin going to get worried about you?” Perigee prompted her.
“Yes, my mother. Well, my adopted mother. If no one minds, could we just tell her where I’m going? My house is just inside sector 6. It’s not too far.”
“Yeah, of course.” Barret nodded as the Author approached from behind the truck. “Okay, everyone? C’mon, let’s move!”

A matter of seconds after the group had disappeared out of sight, Elena of the Turks sat up and looked around her. She’d heard most of what they’d been saying, even if she hadn’t quite followed the entire conversation. And where were the… other…
“Sir Tseng!” she exclaimed, hurrying over to where her superior was lying, face down. “Are you okay?”
Tseng mumbled something incomprehensible into the road.
Elena rolled him over onto his back.
“What was that, sir?” she asked.
Had he been in better condition, Tseng would most likely have found it nigh on impossible to avoid making a nasty comment here. However, all he was really bothered about right now was getting back to the Shinra building in one piece.
“Elena?” he said simply.
“Sir?”
“I have a mission for you.”
“Sir?”
“Your next mission, Elena, is to get me back to the HQ. I don’t care how you do it. Ingenuity and inventiveness will be commended, however the most important thing is the health of your leader. Understood?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Good,” Tseng replied, and passed out.

Part 2: Present Imperfect
Chapter IV 	Ahead on our Way

I don’t trust air I can’t see.
- Some guy in a film about a submarine
THIS IS ONLY A TEMPORARY QUOTE

“Terribly sorry, sir, but you aren’t allowed to leave the city without a pass. May I see yours?”
“Oh, really? Anyway, that’s not why I’m here. I just think I’ve found a mistake in this book. Would you mind just checking for me?”
“What? Sir, I’m a guard, not a publish-”
WHUMP!
“Okay, guys,” the Author called, replacing his dictionary through his belt and nudging the prostrate guard to one side with his foot. He knelt down and retrieved the man’s keycard from his jacket pocket. “Coast’s clear. We can head out now.”
As he ambled over to the huge gate built into the transparent wall surrounding the entire lower plate and began working out how to open it, the rest of AVALANCHE appeared from round the back of the various buildings/rubbish bins/miscellanea they had been hiding behind.
“Yo!” Barret shouted. “Nice one! Sleepin’ like a dummy!”
“I refuse to comment,” Mr. Big muttered, leaping from his shoulder to the Author’s. “So, we’re on the move. Anyone decided where we’re headed first?”
“There’s a village just a few kilometres to the north-east,” Perigee explained. “Kalm, I think. Seeing as Sephiroth’s headed that way, he might have stopped off there. It’d be a good place to ask around, see if anyone’s seen him. Besides, we’ll need somewhere to stay for the night.”
“Actually, I’ve got a tent here,” Cloud interrupted, holding up a small cloth bag. He’d found it in Aeris’ garden, of all places.
“Yeah, but I’d rather not try to fit us all in there,” Mr. Big pointed out.
“Oh, right. Yeah.”
“Yo, this ain’t gettin’ us nowhere,” Barret snapped. “C’mon, let’s get movin’!”
“Hmm…” Perigee considered this. They couldn’t have everyone in the same party - battles would get far too convoluted. “There are quite a few monsters around on the way. They’d be more likely to attack a large group, wouldn’t they? How about we split up into…” He paused for a moment, as if trying to decide on a suitable number. “Threes?”
“Wouldn’t it be safer if we travel in numbers?” Tifa piped up.
Damn, Perigee thought. Intelligence. Just what we don’t need.
“You obviously don’t know much about these creatures,” he retorted, thinking quickly. “They gang up on large groups. Trust me, I read several of Professor Hojo’s reports on them a while back. We’ll be safest if we split up.”
He didn’t fail to notice Nanaki raise an eyebrow sceptically.
The Author nodded in agreement. “Yes, three’s a good number,” he mused to the rabbit on his shoulder. “Two is an argument, three is an argument with a chairman. It’s so much friendlier with three.”
“So, Cloud,” Tifa began resignedly, “who do you want to go with?”
“Now jes’ wait a damn minute!” Barret exclaimed. “I’m still the leader, an’ don’t you forget it! I should get first pick!”
“Oh, I dunno…” Cloud pondered the situation. “Tifa, you and… Perigee, you two want to come with me?”
“Um, yeah, okay,” Perigee agreed.
“I’ll go with the Author and his rabbit!” Aeris put in before anyone else could get a word in. Perigee glared at her. He’d let this one pass, but once they got to Kalm… Cloud could have his moment of glory in the flashback bit, and then he (Perigee, not Cloud) would have to go and have a few words with that Author person.
Barret looked around wearily. “Oh… wha’ever…” he muttered. “Awright, Jess, Wedge, an’ you…”
“Nanaki,” said Nanaki.
“Yeah, you, you three’re with me. Where’d you say this place was? Is?”
“North-east,” Perigee repeated. “Don’t worry, there’s nothing else in the area. You can’t miss it.”
“Oh. Good.” Barret looked around, then straightened up. “Okay, everyone! We’ll meet up at Carm!”
“Kalm,” Jessie corrected him gently.
“Wha’ever! ‘Til then!”

*	*	*	*	*

“Come on, then,” Aeris said as she and the Author wandered along. “You said you’d tell me who you are, now we’re out of danger. And there’s no one else around.”
The Author opened his mouth, considered this, and stopped. He couldn’t help but think it would be so much easier for him if only he could tell her the truth, about God and the LTF and everything. He knew instinctively she would be able to understand it, even though it was a concept that many people found difficult to comprehend. But no. There were strict rules in the LTF governing what was permissible to divulge and what wasn’t, and despite the fact that the Author had been kicked out - or ‘recommended for standalone duty,’ as he himself liked to think of it - this entire plot was an LTF mission, and there was a team around somewhere. The Author knew perfectly well he couldn’t tell her the whole story.
But… Why did he want to tell her? This wasn’t a case of thinking that it might make it easier for him to protect her if he took her completely into his confidence, or anything like that. He actively wanted to let her know what he did, and he had a feeling it was for personal reasons. That was quite distinctly unprofessional.
“Yeah, I can take a hint,” Mr. Big muttered, hopping down off his shoulder and darting on ahead. “I’ll go scout out the region, shall I?”
The Author watched him go, then turned back to Aeris, who was staring at him, a coy smile hovering on her lips.
“I’m just…” He paused. “I’m just someone who knows that something is going to go wrong. I can sense it. Sephiroth is a real threat to the Planet, and I need to follow him and stop him doing whatever it is he’s trying to. Being a Cetra is… well, it’s just the past I invented for myself to try and make myself seem more interesting.”
“Why?” Aeris laughed. “Don’t you have a past?”
“Not really, no.” The Author sighed. “Don’t ask. Let’s just say I need a reason to get myself into this group, and I thought that perhaps, if they thought I was an Ancient, they’d think I was more important than I really am. As it turned out, I don’t think anyone was paying me any attention when I mentioned it except you, so it was a bit of a waste of time, really.”
Aeris smiled. “Hang on… You said something about not blowing your cover, back in Midgar. What did you mean? Have you got something to hide?”
The Author stared at her. She’d meant it as a joke, that was clear from her expression, but for some reason the comment cut deep. Yes, he had something to hide. Apart from his small but select group of followers, and the LTF, of course, he had never told anyone about who he really was. For every book he’d taken part in, he’d invented a new background, a new past. He’d got used to it - it was just the way he worked - but it did get tiring after a while.
“More than you can possibly imagine,” he replied, and returned her smile. She laughed, obviously thinking he wasn’t taking the question seriously, and he walked alongside her, content now just to watch her. He couldn’t understand why anyone could possibly want to hurt her… Still, the ways of bad guys were not the sort of thing one dwelt on. Something to do with her being a Cetra, perhaps? He’d have to keep an eye on her. With his powers of literature he should be able to tell when something important was going to happen, but even so… He decided now. He would guard her, never let her out of his sight.
He mused briefly how melodramatic he was getting. Not like him at all. Whatever else happened, he’d have to make sure Mr. Big didn’t learn about this, or he’d never hear the last of it.
“So are you going to tell me who you really are?” Aeris persevered. “What’s your real name?”
“I…” The Author shrugged mentally. No harm in telling her this, he supposed. “I haven’t the faintest idea. I’m pretty certain I must have had a proper, sensible name once, but I’ve called myself the Author now for so long I can’t remember for the life of me.”
“No, seriously?”
“Afraid so. Time does strange things to the mind. Just wait ‘til you meet the Major.”
“Who?”
“The Major. One of my friends from… from some time back. Quite possibly the most enthusiastic military twit you could ever imagine.”
Aeris smiled again and looked around her. She turned back to him, about to make a comment about the surrounding countryside, but stopped when she noticed he was staring at her. Not rudely, or lecherously - she had to admit to being just slightly disappointed by that - but… Curiously, that was it. As if he was genuinely interested in everything about her.
She returned his gaze evenly. There was something he wasn’t telling her - that was evident to anyone with even meagre magical abilities. But she got the impression that he was holding whatever it was back from her because he had to, not because he wanted to. Wisely, she decided not to bring the matter up. She was sure he’d tell her when he was ready.
The Author was the first to concede and look away. “Anyway…” He felt somehow as if an important moment had passed, and he hadn’t noticed it. Part of him said that it couldn’t have been too important, as otherwise his literary senses would have spotted it coming a mile off, but there was a nagging voice in the back of his mind that knew it was important in a different way. A way that transcended even the ‘words, paragraphs, pages’ world of literature. “I’d prefer it if the others didn’t know about this. They seem to have accepted me without the whole Cetra business, and I’d rather not complicate matters.” He turned back to her once more. “Please?”
“Of course. You don’t need to worry, I’m trustworthy.”
“Thank you.” He glanced around at the rather dull landscape. A small town - Kalm, he assumed - was just about visible in the distance. “Shall we hurry on? There’s probably an inn or something over there, and if he get a move on we could get the best rooms before the others.”
“Why not?” He reached out to her, and she placed her hand in his. “Let’s go.”
To Mr. Big, watching from fifty metres or so ahead, they looked almost exactly like a man asking a woman for the next dance. However, that may have been simply because his thoughts had momentarily strayed to the period drama he and the Author had taken part in recently.
“Ah, Lady Sarah…” he murmured, memories of a fleeting affair he’d had coming back to him. It would never have worked, he reminded himself. The age difference, for a start - she was ten times as old as him. Ever since he’d joined the Author, he’d been three years old, in the same way that the Author himself was thirty-three and the Major over ninety. For some reason they just didn’t seem to age. Probably something to do with literature. Most things involving the Author were.

Perigee was getting worried. The three of them had been travelling for maybe a couple of hours now, Kalm was so close he could just about make out the windows in the houses nearest them, and they hadn’t been attacked yet. Not even by one measly motorbike monster. Turning his back towards Cloud and Tifa, he produced a calculator from one of his pockets and tapped numbers furiously into it. The odds of getting from Midgar to here without having one battle were… oh, not too bad, actually. It was a shame, though. He’d been looking forward to trying out his limits, and there was the possibility that either Cloud or Tifa might save the other’s life and get the romance started. Still, plenty more time for that. The more pressing concern was stopping Aeris getting too close to that Author person.
“Hey, Cloud?” Tifa asked quietly. “I was wondering…?”
“Yeah?”
“About… well…” She hesitated, and cast Perigee a pleading glance.
Now, as has been mentioned before, Perigee was not the fastest on the uptake. However, he wasn’t stupid, and he knew perfectly well when it was his cue to make an exit.
“I’ll just be… I mean, I think I’ll… oh, look! Dandelions!” he settled for eventually, and hurried off. Cloud curiously watched him go.
“What was that about?” he mused aloud. Tifa shrugged.
“I was going to say, Cloud…” she tried again. “I just wanted to know… how you feel about… Aeris?”
Thankfully for the authors, at this point the camera pans over to Perigee, who is much easier to write. He was strolling along about a hundred yards to one side, trying to appear nonchalant while staring intently at the two of them and doing his best to hear what was being said. A bit of a hopeless endeavour, it has to be said, but he had nothing else to do until he was attacked. It was because he was staring at them and not watching where he was going that his right foot struck something and he collapsed onto the grass.
“Hey there, shonny!” wheezhed a voice from ground level. “You should watch where you’re going. Might hurt shomeone.”
Perigee picked himself up and looked down. At his feet was a small grey rodent, wearing a miner’s helmet, halfway out of its hole. It was scrutinising him curiously.
He had a feeling he’d seen it before somewhere.
“Who… sorry, what are you?” he enquired tactlessly.
The creature stuck one paw down into its hole and handed up a piece of white card, perhaps four by two inches. “The name’sh Gopher. Here’sh my card. I’m not in the book!”
Perigee shrugged resignedly. Hey, why not? Red was a talking lion, the Author had brought along his own talking rabbit, so why not a gopher?
“Really?” Tifa asked, truly shocked. “You mean that?”
[Author’s note: Many apologies for inserting the above line. I just think it helps to make you feel as if Cloud is revealing something important and that you’re missing it.]
Meanwhile, Gopher was getting slightly worried.
“I shay, would you happen to know the way to Hundred Acresh? And what time ish it?”
Perigee shook his head. “Hundred Acresh? I mean Acres? I don’t think there is such a place.” But now that he came to think of it, the name did seem familiar… “But I can tell you the time is… five twelve. PM.”
“What? Oh, dash it all, I’m late! Gotta be off, be right back!”
And with a cry of, “Waaaaaaaahhh…” Gopher disappeared down into his hole, which sealed itself up after him.
Perigee sat down and stared at where it had been. That wasn’t good. Either that creature was a corruption of those annoying squirrel things that hit you with lava and money and whatnot, or it was something from a completely different plot that had somehow got itself involved in this one. Seeing as FG was around, he had a feeling it was probably the latter.
Perigee was what certain members of the LTF offensively called a Gamer. That is, he had been born in one of God’s games with the Devil, and not on Earth. From an objective viewpoint, Gamers are no different from Earthers - but few people are objective. The game in question had been a fantasy, and Perigee had spent his first ten years trying (and failing) to explain it all by logical, scientific methods.
He’d been noticed by a member of the Beta team, who were doing a last-minute scout of the world before its termination. He was a prime candidate - rational, intelligent and quick to grasp new concepts. Tana, the Beta team member, had brought him back to headquarters, explaining en route the principles behind the Literary Task Force.
The problem was that Perigee was much too young to become an active agent. The youngest member ever, excluding a certain Mr. Big, age 3, had been 19 when called to duty. So someone, if not God Himself then certainly one of His direct subordinates, had decided that Perigee would live on earth for ten years before going on duty.
Perigee had mainly spent his time there, ironically, playing video games. Oh, he’d been put in a school, but since he knew his job prospects were certain, he’d never really bothered that much with studying. And now, here he was, inhabiting the very game that had cost him an A* in Latin. He had so many fond memories of that game, and it wasn’t pleasant seeing it being corrupted this early. Aeris not falling for Cloud, talking rabbits, Gopher… He wasn’t going to stand for this. He’d settle this with the Author - or should he say FG? - tonight. Without fail. Definitely.

*	*	*	*	*

And the sun began to set…
“Yo, you think sumthin’s happened to them two lovebirds?” Barret enquired, leaning up against one of the houses on the outskirts of Kalm. It was a small village, but not so small that it wasn’t entitled to have outskirts. Well, an outskirt, anyway.
“I’d rather you didn’t refer to them like that,” Perigee replied. “It’s so humiliating.”
“Huh? Oh, okay.”
“Do you think they might be in trouble?” Wedge asked. “They might have been attacked or something.”
Tifa shook her head. “They can take care of themselves. I’m sure of it.”
“So why’re we waitin’ here then?” Barret interjected. “Can’t we do sumthin’?”
“I’ve sorted out our rooms at the inn,” Cloud reassured him. “Jessie’s still asking if anyone’s seen Sephiroth. There isn’t that much more we can do, is there?”
“Well… hey, I saw a bar over there!” Barret cheered up remarkably as he remembered this. “C’mon, let’s go get a drink while we wait for them, how ‘bout it?”
Perigee nodded agreement. If he was to confront FG later, he could do with something to boost his spirits. It was strange, really. He’d been expecting to rendezvous with the rest of his team, one by one, and then have the final confrontation as a huge battle in a few weeks’ time. That was how these things usually worked. Still, you couldn’t foresee everything.
“Well, follow me, then!” Barret announced. “An’ Cloud’s buying!”
“Sounds good to… hey!” Cloud called after their departing backs. “I never said…”

The small bar was very festive, if you came from the right country. There appeared to be something of a highland theme, with plaid curtains on the windows, tartan cushions on the chairs, and a sign reading ‘Och Aye’ hanging in the kitchen doorway.
“Ow… my eyes,” complained Perigee. “So are we going to get anything here?” Why are we even in here? It’s not like anything happens here.
Cloud said, “I’ll have a… soda.”
“Then I guess I’ll have a… soda,” said Tifa.
“I guess I’ll have a… soda,” said Jessie.
“I suppose I will have a… soda,” said Nanaki.
“Hmm… I think I’ll have a… soda,” said Wedge.
“Oh alright,” said Perigee. “I’ll have a soda too.”
Cloud looked at him. “You say that funny. D’you not drink that often?”
“What?”
“Yo, gimme a milk, foo’.”
Perigee closed his eyes for a second. “Okay, so that’s six ‘soda’s, and one milk. Okay.” He walked up to the counter.
“Excuse me, miss?” he called to the barmaid. “We’d like six beers and one mil… um.”
The reason for the incongruous ‘um’ was that the barmaid was glaring at him with a extreme degree of malevolence. Normally Perigee would be oblivious to this sort of thing, but that glare seemed oddly familiar.
“Hey, what’s the holdup?” asked Cloud, tapping Perigee on the shoulder. “Um.”
Cloud’s ‘um’ was rather more inexplicable than Perigee’s, as Perigee often went ‘um’ for no reason at all.
The barmaid had switched her glare to Cloud. She glanced back at Perigee for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. “Cloud? Cloud Strife?”
Um… thought Perigee.
Cloud cringed, scratching the back of his head. “Uh… hi? I… I didn’t mean to leave you. You know that, right? It was the Shinra, they…”
“You…” fumed the barmaid. “How could you? You know it was your fault, and you’re just not taking responsibility. You never did. Y-you knew what would happen, and you did it anyway. Just go away. I… I…” She broke down into tears and gave out a long sentence, garbled into unintelligibility.
Perigee laid a consoling hand on Cloud’s shoulder, his own worries temporarily avoided, if not evaded. “Wow. What did you do to her?”
“You want to know what he did to me?” broke in the barmaid before Cloud could answer. She turned her head slightly, and, in a louder, but slightly calmer voice, called “Roch, would you come in here, please?”
A young voice replied, “Be right there.”
A small child looking about age 5 appeared in the dark portal leading to the generic back room of all bars, everywhere. He had short blonde hair, cut in that adorable pixie style that seems inescapable for young children. His eyes were shaded a dark brown, although if you looked carefully, they might seem to somehow be coloured a deep red as well. “Yes?” the boy inquired politely.
Looking directly at Cloud, she said quietly, “Roch, meet your father.”
In the silence that followed, the owner, proprietor, chef and barkeep came out of the kitchen - all four the same person named Craig, and probably also the conceiver of the highland decorations. He took in the scene, and wisely decided to stay quiet and attempt to escape any attention. He failed.
“Craig, I’m going to need the evening off,” said the barmaid flatly. “It’s a family matter.”

The sunset in its final stages behind the Author and Aeris as they trudged wearily into Kalm, both exhausted, was really quite beautiful. Not that either of them noticed it, though. It appeared that the reason neither of the other parties had run into any enemies was because all of said enemies had decided to pick on them. Interestingly enough, despite the slashes and blows that had rained down upon the two of them and even Mr. Big, their clothes were still perfectly intact, not even their hairstyles had been messed up.
Nevertheless, it had been something of a gruelling journey, although all three had gained a couple of level ups along the way. Aeris didn’t seem to have noticed anything amiss, but the Author had spotted when, for some unknown reason, she had suddenly become rejuvenated after disposing of one of their adversaries. He hadn’t said anything to her, of course.
Himself, he had somehow felt himself become stronger, and at each level he’d earned a skill point. There was absolutely no way he could ever have described to the others what a skill point was, but somehow he knew he’d got them. He’d put one into hand-to-hand combat (again, he couldn’t explain exactly how) and had noticed afterwards that he seemed to have become stronger and more agile. He’d subsequently decided to save the second point until he knew exactly what he wanted to do with it.
Had he mentioned this to Perigee, an ardent gamer and one who knew all the traditions of RPGs, it would probably have severely worried the younger man. Skill points were definitely not a part of this game, so their appearance meant that the Author had not quite integrated properly. Just as long as the other characters didn’t learn about it, though, it should be okay.
Mr. Big had put both his points into Charm, giving him a +175% chance of Seduce Babe.
“Do you think the best rooms’ll have gone by now?” the Author asked, a tired smile playing over his face. “I’ve had faster journeys through gridlock.”
Aeris sighed loudly and leaned on him. “I really don’t care about what the room’s like,” she replied tiredly. “Can’t we just get a bed and go to sleep?”
The Author’s smile became more apparent. “Much as I’d like to as well, I think we should probably find the others. I expect… I hope they’ll have got here by now.”
“No worries there,” Mr. Big observed.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Well…” Mr. Big pointed an ear at the far side of town, where Cloud and Perigee could be seen heading into what was, as its sign proclaimed, Kalm’s Inn. “The others just went in. They’re all here, and they’ve found another girl, too. Not bad, if you want my opinion.”
“Did I ask for it?” the Author replied absentmindedly. “Perhaps they’re getting ready to settle down for the night. I say we do the same.”

The Author pushed open the plain wooden door to the inn and ambled over to the reception desk. Aeris hurried in a few seconds later.
“Good evening, sir,” the casually-dressed receptionist began, the eloquence not exactly rolling easily off his tongue. This obviously wasn’t an overly upmarket establishment. “It’s 150 gil for the night. Staying?”
“Of course.” The Author nodded.
“Let’s see… you’re in luck, sir. We’ve got two singles left over. Or,” the receptionist glanced suggestively between the Author and Aeris, “there’s a double if you want that…?”
“I think a couple of singles is probably better for us,” the Author replied.
Aeris put on an expression of mock hurt. “My company isn’t that bad, is it?”
The Author shook his head emphatically as he searched through his pockets and finally produced a crumpled thousand-gil note, which he handed to the receptionist. “No, no. Quite the opposite, in fact. I’m just worried about what might happen if we do share a room. More importantly, I’m terrified of what might happen if you end up in the same room as Mr. Big.”
“There’s another one of you, sir?”
“What? Oh, no. It’s just an expression I use, that’s all.”
The receptionist gave him a dark stare. “In that case, I’d rather you didn’t use phrases like that in this establishment, sir.”
The Author stared back blankly for a few seconds before realisation dawned. “I think you’ve got the wrong idea here,” he remarked, trying not to laugh. “Mr. Big is a completely separate entity to myself. Isn’t that right?”
“Oh, yes,” Aeris agreed.
“Right,” Mr. Big concurred.
“And there is one more thing,” the Author continued, while the receptionist tried to work out exactly where that voice had just come from. “A group of our friends just came in here. Huge party, some real characters. You couldn’t have missed them. Anyway, would you mind telling me what room they’re in?”
“Yeah,” Mr. Big put in, grinning widely at the flash of confusion that shot across the receptionist’s face before he could compose himself.
“Of course, sir. They’re in the two suites - rooms 101 and 102. I believe they were all going to 101 first. Just up the stairs and to the right, sir.”
“Thank you.”
“Gotcha.”
The Author gave the rabbit a venomous glance.
“You carry on like this,” he snapped as they headed upstairs, “and I’ll knot your ears round your throat and strangle you with them.”

“Yeah, well I’ll be damned if I’m gonna do it!”
“Oh, come on, Barret. You wouldn’t fit in one anyway!”
“No way!”
“I say Wedge has to!”
Cloud clambered onto one of the bedside cabinets and banged his fist loudly on the ceiling to try and get the others’ attention. A few flakes of plaster showered down on them.
“Order! Order!” he shouted. One by one, the group quietened down and watched him. Over in the far corner, the barmaid was standing next to her son and watching the proceedings with obviously forced calm. “Look, we’re going to have to think about this reasonably, okay? There’re seven of us, and only three beds in each room. That means, no matter how much we argue, someone’s going to have to sleep on the floor.”
“Why don’t the dog -” Barret began.
“Nanaki,” said Nanaki.
“Yeah, why don’t he sleep on the floor?”
“Just because I am not humanoid does not mean I do not have a taste for luxury,” Nanaki objected.
“Well -”
“Barret? Shut up.”
Thankfully, before Barret could reply, there was a knock on the door and the Author poked his head round. “Hey, guys, I’m back. Sorry I’m late.”
“Aw, wonderful!” Barret piped up. “Now we’re three beds short!”
“I say I get this one!” Wedge retorted, and sat down heavily and conclusively on one bed.
“Nice to know they’re relieved to see us, isn’t it?” the Author commented wryly to Aeris as the two entered. “It’s okay!” he shouted at the group. “We’ve got our own rooms!”
“GUYS!” Cloud yelled, trying to pre-empt the argument that broke out once more. He failed.
Temporarily ignored, the Author spotted the new girl and wandered over to her.
“I don’t think I know you,” he said pleasantly, bowing extravagantly. “Who are you?”
She glared at him, then remembered that he hadn’t had anything to do with what had happened to her and tried to tone down the malevolence a few notches. “I’m Ess,” she replied wearily. “Ess Harrison. I work at the bar here.”
“Really?” The Author shrugged. “Just call me Author. This here is Aeris.”
“Hi,” Aeris put in cheerfully.
“So…” The Author wasn’t really sure how to put this. “Why are you here? I mean, why aren’t you in the bar? Not that I’m suggesting you should be, of course, nothing wrong with your presence, but…”
“When you’re in a hole, stop digging before you decapitate yourself with the shovel,” Mr. Big recommended sagely.
“Good idea.”
Ess shook her head, while on the other side of the room Cloud was trying to explain, “Look, it’s not too difficult. Whoever takes the short straw sleeps on the floor, okay? That way it’s fair.”
“But then… won’t the foo’ who goes last be left wit’ the short one?” Barret obviously didn’t get the idea.
“You don’t know which one’s shorter when you pick it, Barret,” Cloud continued.
“Yeah, you do, look. This one here’s half as long as the others.”
Ess returned her attention back to the Author. “I’ll explain later,” she said flatly. “Once these idiots have sorted themselves out.”
“Come to join the party, have you?”
“So… lemme get this straight…” Barret muttered. “You make them straws all look the same, then we pick one, right?”
“Yes.”
“C’mon, then! This sounds like fun!”
Cloud clenched his fist round the seven matchsticks, one broken in half, he’d got from that little complementary book you always get in hotels and inns. “Who’s first?”
“Yo’, I’m goin’ first here!” Barret exclaimed. He grabbed one of the protruding ends between thumb and forefinger and promptly pulled out the snapped matchstick. “Wha…? This ain’t no fun game!”
“Tough luck, Barret,” Jessie called over. “Rather you than me, though.”
“Aw…”
“So…” Cloud thought for a moment. “Who’s going to go in which room?”
“I can’t help but think,” Mr. Big mused out loud, “that it would be nice if one of them acknowledged our existence in even a very small way.”
The Author shrugged. “Leave them be,” he said. “It’s nice to see people who take sleeping so seriously. The world would be a much nicer place if only people would go and lie down more often.”
“So, that’s Jessie, Wedge, and Perigee next door, then,” Cloud said, not really seeking confirmation. “The rest of us in here.”
“Yeah.”
“Sounds okay to me.”
“Yup.”
“Uh…”
Cloud sighed. “Yes, Barret?”
“I gotta question.”
“Yes?”
“Can you explain?”
“Explain what?”
“Everythin’.”
“A severe philosophical conundrum,” Mr. Big observed. The Author calmly took hold of one of his ears and he hurriedly closed his mouth.
“What do you mean by ‘everythin’’?” Cloud enquired guardedly. “I’m not very good at explaining things.”
“Everythin’ that’s happened. Sephiroth, that Jenova thing, uh…” Barret glanced over at Ess, who stared at him. “Her…”
“Yeah,” Perigee agreed. “What exactly happened between you two?”
“You don’t want to know…” Cloud began, rather hopelessly.
“Yes, they do,” Ess snapped, striding forwards. “I think it’s only fair they know what sort of guy you really are, don’t you?”
“…yes…” Cloud murmured. He sighed, took a deep breath and tried to compose himself. Over by the far wall, the Author, who could spot a cliché from five pages away, hurriedly covered his ears.
“It all started five years ago…”

Chapter V	On That Day, Five Years Ago…

We would like to apologise to anyone who has played the game for the lack of interest in this chapter. The whole ‘memory loss’ thing was deemed inappropriate content for this fanfic.
The authors
Writing of Wrongs

September 27th
Dear diary,
Daddy says it’s only one more day now until the Shinra group arrive to find out where all the monsters are coming from. I hope he’s right. I don’t like the thought of those things creeping around outside at night, but… I wonder who’s coming? They said they were sending one of their best men. A SOLDIER perhaps? Maybe… Maybe Cloud made it after all. We haven’t heard anything from him since he left last year. Oh… I can only hope… What I would give to see him again. I didn’t realise until he left, but…
I’m getting all soppy. I must stop this. I’ve got to guide them to the reactor when they go there, and it wouldn’t do to be acting like this, would it?
Tifa

Ess awoke. She didn’t recognise the room she was in, but that wasn’t particularly surprising. Integration was a tricky business at best, and it often took a minute or so for your Past to come online. Until that point, the plot didn’t acknowledge you, and there were certain things you could do only in that limited time. Perigee had introduced a menu system, whereby you could change what you would be like for the duration of the integration.
Some actions can only be adequately described by words which give no explanation for how the actions occurred. As such, Ess opened the menu, and went to her personal stats section.
They seemed in order. Lvl 2, reasonable Str, Dex and Int above average, Mag unusually high. On a whim, she shortened her hair slightly, and dropped her age by five years, to sixteen. She smiled at the thought of how the changes would affect Perigee.
Her class wasn’t defined, which was out of the ordinary. For as long as she could remember, she’d been classified as a Medic or a White Mage. She had a natural talent for both, but she longed to try her hand at something else. Were they finally giving her a chance?
She carefully entered ‘Samurai’ into the Class field. Instead of the usual, “Classchange not allowed” message, she got a complex error.
“Error $00A87CBF: Class.Count > Class.CountLimit. Class.ClassName = ‘Samurai’, Class.CountLimit = 1, Class.Items = {Sephiroth}; Abort/Retry/Fail?”
Ess carefully selected Abort, knowing that Retry would be useless and Fail could crash the world. The screen’s background changed colour, from black to light blue. The changes she had made washed over her, and her Past arrived at the same time. She checked the class box again, her new memories telling her the answer anyway. She was 2nd Lieutenant Ess Harrison, Shinra Medic.
She swore.

Someone knocked on the door. Ess woke from her reverie and cautiously opened the door a few inches. Her Past piped up and mentioned in passing that it was the door to her personal quarters, on the twenty-fourth floor of the Shinra HQ in Midgar.
“Hey, Ess, it’s me, Zack! Let me in!” announced the man on the other side.
Ess searched her memory for who this Zack was. She found that they’d grown up in the same town, and so had known each other for years. He seemed harmless enough. She opened the door the rest of the way, and Zack pushed into the room.
“Hey, I just got off duty, so I thought I’d check in on you,” he began.
“Sure, you did,” Ess replied, half-smiling. “You’ve gone off duty every evening for six months, and this is the first time you’ve visited me. What’s the real reason?”
“You slander me!” Zack said with mock hurt. “I do something nice for you and you get all suspicious! But now that you mention it, there is a favour I’d like you to do for me.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere! How much?”
“Not money! Although… no, better not. Listen, there’s a guy I think you’d like to meet. Wait, let me finish. He’s about your age, moderately good looking, and has passable manners. So how about it?”
“You said this was a favour. What do you get out of it?” asked Ess.
“The guy’s a friend of mine. Cloud - his name’s Cloud - he’s fairly new in town, and he’s kinda homesick.” Zack scratched the back of his head. “His pain is my pain,” he added dramatically.
“Oh, alright. Where and when?”
“He’s going to be at the ‘Sector 9’ bar in an hour. You can’t miss him, he’s got really spiky blond hair.”
“You’re not coming?”
“No, I’m meeting Aeris in Sector 5 in half an hour.” His girlfriend, remembered Ess. “Oh, one more thing,” Zack continued. “Sephiroth wanted to see you in the foyer at nine tomorrow.”
Ess blinked. Sephiroth…?
“He didn’t say why, but I think it’s about his next mission. Something big’s going on at Nibelheim, and even the great Sephiroth needs all the help he can get.”

‘Sector 9’ was the Shinra Tower’s unofficial nickname, and the Sector 9 was one of the most popular bars among the Shinra troops. The execs and all the other white-collar workers preferred the more genteel Excalibur.
Ess casually pushed her way into the Sector 9. Anyone with a Shinra uniform on got an automatic 10% discount, so she was wearing her Medic outfit - that she thought was suspiciously like the traditional garb of a white mage.
Zack had been right. She spotted Cloud’s starburst haircut almost instantly. She started to head his way, then hesitated.
Déjà vu.
How many times had this happened before? Pretty girl walks into a bar, meets hero, they both fall in love. This had happened to her nine times out of the last ten missions, the one only because she’d been killed off before she’d even been there five minutes. Every time, when the LTF had left, she’d been heartbroken. Sure, her character stayed behind, living happily ever after, but it wasn’t her.
She’d mentioned it to Kea, since she wasn’t sure how Perigee would take it.
“So vat’s the problem?” he had asked. “You can love, but you don’t haf to stay and endure a relationship. You get the good vithout the bad.”
“But the heartache…”
“Life is like that. Vith a vonderful vine, the best in the vorld, you still get a hangover.”
Well, forget that, she decided. I’m not going to have my emotions twisted to suit the needs of a story.
Cloud turned, and for a second their eyes met, his pale blue eyes drawing her to him. The people around them moved away, voices becoming muffled. The walls and the drinks and the bar faded into pink clouds, leaving only Ess and Cloud, alone but for the soft music.
A bowl of salted peanuts collided with her face, completely destroying the moment. Reality - or whatever close approximation - rushed back. A tall scientist, with wild eyes buried behind glasses thicker than even Iota team’s Hans Niesentose’s and long black hair mostly tied back in a ponytail, was standing on a chair shouting, “FOOD FIGHT!”
His target appeared to be a lanky, unshaven man leaning on the bar and trying to fish his flying goggles out of his beer on the other side of Ess. He glanced up, a certain ‘give me a break’ expression on his face, and shouted back at the scientist, “Shut up, Hojo! You couldn’t hit me if I -” before being interrupted by a large custard flan travelling at high velocity and low altitude.
All around Sector 9 alimentation began to be projected wildly. Ess ducked under a curry, only to be broadsided by a plate of boiled vegetables. In her peripheral vision she saw Cloud leap off his barstool and head her way. Once at her side, he shouted something that was lost in the chaos, then reached behind his back to produce a short sword. It had glowing runes engraved on it, noticed Ess. Taking her arm with his left hand and fending off volleys with his sword, Cloud led Ess to the door.

Once outside, Ess leant up against the wall and picked chilli beans off her sleeve.
“Sorry about that,” Cloud said, his voice a pleasing tenor. “You seemed to be right in Hojo and Highwind’s crossfire.”
“You know those two?”
“Sure! They can’t stand each other, and as soon as they’ve both had a drink, WHAM! They’re back in the Wutainese war!”
“Which one’s from Wutai? High…wind?” asked Ess, remembering Wutai to be a lot like Earth’s Asia.
“No, Hojo is. Couldn’t you tell?”
“Hojo’s the scientist?”
“Yeah, that’s him.”
A pause.
“Anyway…” Ess glanced at her feet. “Thanks for getting me out of there. And I don’t even know your full name.”
“Cloud Strife,” said Cloud, sticking out his hand. Ess took it, his handshake strong but careful.
“I’m Ess Harrison. I… I’d better go. I’ve got a meeting early tomorrow, and it’s getting late.”
“Yeah, I guess I should be off too. It’s nice having the Great Sephiroth as your leader, but he gets up at the crack of dawn.”
“You’re in Sephiroth’s group?” asked Ess, rather pointlessly. “He’s who I’m meeting tomorrow! So I guess we might see each other then.”
“Yeah.” Cloud scratched the back of his head. “So… See you tomorrow.”
“Yes.” Ess smiled briefly, then turned and began heading back to the Tower. All employees were quartered there - floors twenty to forty were dedicated to that purpose.

September 28th
Dear diary,
They’re arriving today! Most people in the village seem rather nervous, but I can’t help but feel excited. It’s not every day you get to see the best soldiers in the world, is it?
Zangan doesn’t trust them. He says he knows what those arrogant elite types are like, and that I mustn’t let them boss me around. I said I can take care of myself, but I don’t think I’ll need to. Particularly not if it’s going to be who I hope it is…
Tifa

The next morning, Ess was doing a final check of her equipment before heading out.
“Let’s see… Medic’s uniform… weapon…” a battle-deformed frying pan - for some reason her weapon class was ‘kitchen utensils’ - “Accessory…” her medic’s kit, which added 50% to her curative magic strength.
“…I guess that’s it.” She only had four materia: mastered Restore and Revive, and two mastered All materia. This was the standard loan to medics, and though she was allowed to buy them from the company at half price, the two Alls were more than one and a half million Gil together, so there wasn’t much chance of that any time soon.
Sephiroth and Zack were already in the foyer. When Ess approached, Zack grinned, while Sephiroth just looked at her.
“I guess I’d better introduce you,” began Zack. “Sephiroth, this is Ess Harrison. Ess, this is Sephiroth. But you knew that, right?”
“Charmed,” said Sephiroth, bowing his head slightly. “Miss Harrison, Zack here tells me you are an excellent medic, as well as being reliable and trustworthy. Is this true?”
“He forgot modest,” Ess replied casually, taking a chance. There was a tense pause, then Sephiroth smiled.
“Good! Intelligence, too! Well, then, Miss Harrison, would you like to join my team? Our last medic was rather inept, and was mortally wounded on his training mission, so there’s a place available.”
It’s nice having the Great Sephiroth as your leader, but he gets up at the crack of dawn… “I’ll take it. When do I start?”
“We’re leaving for Nibelheim in under an hour. There’s a problem at the reactor there - monsters all over the place.”
“Okay… um… this is all so… I mean… yes?”
“Good. Meet outside the main doors at quarter to.”
At that moment, Cloud ran up, his shirt untucked.
“You’re late, Mr. Strife,” Sephiroth observed coldly. “Go wait outside. You’ve got first shift.”
“Yessir,” said Cloud unhappily. He threw a quick smile at Ess, and was gone.

The journey to Nibelheim was somewhat uneventful. Ess had, of course, ridden in an aeroplane many times before, but this was only Cloud’s third flight, and for him it had lost none of the wonder.
Planes were not common - helicopters were more popular for medium distances; for longer journeys there were land vehicles, and of course the common foot. Planes required runways to land, and runways took up too much space to be cost-effective. Oh, there was always someone announcing a new, runway-free aircraft, but these ‘airships,’ as they were known, had never quite made it into reality.
If Perigee had been following this train of thought, he would probably have smiled knowingly, but he wasn’t, so he thought Um to himself instead.

The five walked through Nibelheim’s town gates, and surveyed the area. Another Shinra guard had been waiting at the runway for them, and had accompanied them to the town.
“So how does it feel?” asked Sephiroth suddenly. Cloud realised the question was directed at him.
“What?”
“It’s your first time back to your hometown in a long time, right? So how does it feel? I wouldn’t know because I don’t have a hometown.”
Cloud looked surprised, while searching for a way to dodge the question. He wasn’t sure how he felt. “Ummm… how ‘bout your parents?”
“My mother is Jenova. She died just after she gave birth to me. My father…” His voice trailed off, and he covered his mouth with his hand. His shoulders began to shake.
Worried, Ess asked, “Sir, are you alright?”
Sephiroth waved her away. “I’m fine. What does it matter…? All right, let’s go.”
They strode into the town square. It was completely deserted. Not even one villager had decided - or perhaps dared - to come out and meet the squad. Sephiroth shrugged unconcernedly.
“We leave for the reactor at dawn,” he announced. “Make sure you get to sleep early. You,” he pointed at the new guard, “keep a lookout. Miss Harrison… You can have the evening off. Just be sure you’re ready tomorrow. Zack, you can come and help me get our rooms arranged.” Almost as an afterthought, he turned to Cloud and added, “Oh, that’s right… you may visit your family and friends. Take over the lookout at two, so get some sleep beforehand. You’re dismissed.”
He turned and strode away into the inn, Zack trailing behind. The lookout followed them to the door, then leaned up against the wall and stared blankly at the sky.
Uncomfortably, Cloud met Ess’s stare.
“So this is what you meant by ‘having the Great Sephiroth as your leader,’” she observed amusedly. “I thought you were in SOLDIER or something.”
Cloud shook his head sadly.
“Not yet,” he replied. “But someday… I’m gonna be just like Sephiroth.”
Ess smiled. “Nice to see someone sticking to his dreams.”
“Yeah. It’s a long way to go, but I’m already making friends at the top.”
Ess thought back to earlier that morning. You’re late, Mr. Strife… “Nice town,” she remarked, deciding not to risk spoiling his enthusiasm. “A lot better than Midgar, anyway.”
Cloud nodded cheerfully. “Well, I’m going to go see some people. Hey, why don’t you come along? Pass the time?”
“Um… yeah, sure. Who first?”
Cloud laughed. “My mom, of course. Who else?”
He’s taking you to see his parents, said the voice of Ess’ LTF training. Um… parent, anyway.
So? replied the pink fog from last night. Why not?
After several seconds careful consideration, Ess decided to go with the fog. Why not indeed?
“After you,” she said.

“Ye---s? Cloud!? Welcome home, Cloud!”
“Hi, mom,” said Cloud.
“And who is this young woman with you?” asked Mrs. Strife.
“Oh, right. Mom, this is Ess Harrison. Ess, this is my mom.”
“Hello,” said Ess awkwardly.
“Nice to meet you, dear. And let me say now that I’m happy for both of you.”
“What?” asked Cloud and Ess in unison.
“I just think it’s so nice that you two are together. Cloud’s a wonderful boy, Ess, although he does talk in his sleep. Or did you already know that?”
Cloud and Ess stared at each other.
“Eeew!” screeched Ess.
“Mooom! We’re not… that’s just… geez, we’re not even going out or anything yet! Whe… I don’t know how you got such an idea! Ess and I just work together, okay?”
“Oh, okay, Cloud. I’m sorry.” Mrs. Strife winked at Ess. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul.”
“Okay. Fine. That’s fine,” interjected Ess hastily. “That’s just what we want, right, Cloud?”
“Uh… yeah. That’s what we want. Don’t tell anyone.” He looked at Ess apologetically, and she shrugged.

Zack laughed. “Very nice tricks, and all that. Sorry, though - I’d still prefer a sword in my hands to a pair of gloves, no matter how tough they are.”
The man he was talking to - an elderly martial arts master by the name of Zangan - leaned back on the inn’s reception desk and raised an eyebrow. “You think you can defeat this old man?”
Zack shook his head. “No, no, I’m not after a fight or anything. I’m just saying I’m more comfortable cutting monsters in half than giving them a good pummelling, that’s all. What’d you say your pupil’s name was? Tina?”
“Tifa,” Zangan replied. “I’d say she could run circles around you, easily.”
“Really?” Zack smiled. “What’s she like?”
“She’s too good for the likes of you, that’s what I’m saying. You keep your hands off her, you hear?”
“Eh? Oh, I see. Don’t worry there - I’m spoken for.” Zack spread his palms wide in a gesture of innocence. “Your girl’s safe from the likes of me, and I’m pretty sure Sephiroth’s not too bothered.”
“Well, good. Make sure things stay that way, won’t you?”
Zack shrugged and, turning away, trudged up the stairs to their bedroom. As with every other inn he’d been quartered in during his three years or so as a SOLDIER, each room seemed to have three beds. It must be one of those unwritten laws of the world or something, he’d decided.
Sephiroth was standing by the window, staring out toward the large mansion at the other end of town. Zack hadn’t been too impressed when he’d seen it. It had obviously been quite luxuriant at some point, but years of disrepair had not been kind to it. He ambled over and watched over Sephiroth’s shoulder.
“What are you looking at?”
Sephiroth didn’t even look at his subordinate. “This scenery…” he muttered. “I feel like I know this place…”
“Been here before on another mission, perhaps?”
“No… it’s not like that. It’s more déjà vu. Everything seems familiar…”
Zack nodded. “Yeah, I feel like that sometimes. The best way to get round it is to go have a drink.”
Sephiroth smiled and turned away from the window. “We have an early start tomorrow,” he commented, ignoring Zack’s offer. “You should get some sleep soon. I’ve hired a guide to the Mako reactor. I’ve heard she’s young; I hope we can rely on her…”
He glanced back over his shoulder at the mansion, but Zack had seen this coming and positioned himself in front of the window. “Come on, you said yourself we should get some sleep. Let it drop. The feeling’s always gone by the morning.”

Sephiroth rolled over onto his back and stared despondently at the ceiling. Sleep was not coming easily to him tonight. For one thing, this bed felt as if someone had stuffed the mattress with rocks and the duvet with flour, but that wasn’t the only catalyst for his insomnia at the moment. Practically the moment he’d turned the lights out, his sole reservation about this mission had come rushing back to remind him of its existence.
“ZZZZZZzzzzzz…”
And then the silence came rushing in. For a brief moment the night seemed peaceful and tranquil once more. Sephiroth held his breath. Could the man really have stopped?
“ZZZZZZzzzzzz…”
Sephiroth sighed. Seriously, possibly Zack’s most prominent flaw was that he snored more loudly than anyone else the other had had the misfortune of encountering.
“ZZZZZZzzzzzz…”
Almost as if acting of its own volition, Sephiroth’s left arm reached over to his bedside table and his hand clamped itself round the first thing it came across, which happened to be one of those collectable ‘plushy’ things that shops and inns had recently started giving away with certain purchases.
Zack was halfway through the fourth Z when he was hit by a six-inch tall, fluffy replica of a young man holding a short wooden sword in one hand and sporting a more exaggerated orange spiky haircut than even Cloud or Zack himself. He mumbled something incoherently and turned over onto his side.
Sephiroth grinned widely. That was one major advantage of his SOLDIER training - it had certainly improved his aim.
“ZZZZZZzzzzzz…”
This was going to be a long night.

September 29th
Dear diary,
They came, and they sent Sephiroth! I never even dreamed I’d see him! The Great Sephiroth in person… He looks a bit cold-hearted, though. I hope he’s nicer when I have to take them to the reactor in half an hour or so. There’s another guy with him - another SOLDIER, perhaps? - and a girl about my age. Oh, of course they brought a couple of normal troops with them, but they’re not nearly as exciting! It’s a bit disappointing about Cloud not being here, but maybe he’s on another mission somewhere else? Besides, I think I can put him out of my mind. I’m helping the Great Sephiroth!
Tifa

“Sir!” Cloud saluted as Sephiroth wandered out of the inn, Zack following a few seconds behind. Sadly, he forgot just how prominent the visor on his helmet was and promptly hit his hand against it. “Nothing to report from the night watch, sir!”
“Very good, Mr. Strife.” Sephiroth nodded to him. “Where’s our guide? She should be here by now.”
“So you’re Sephiroth, eh?” A middle-aged man of about forty, with less hair than was average for his age, came striding over and pointed a finger accusingly at his face, something that very few people even dared to do. “I want you to take care of my daughter, you hear? Don’t want -”
“I can assure you, I will do everything I can to ensure that your daughter is returned to you unharmed. Once she gets here,” he added pointedly.
“Sorry I’m late,” called a young girl, hurrying over. Zack raised an eyebrow at her. As he’d pointed out to Zangan the night before, he was currently taken, but had he not already met Aeris, he would certainly have tried to get to know this girl. She was good.
“Good morning,” said Sephiroth, rather coldly. He hadn’t slept too well the night before. “You would be…?”
“Tifa,” Zack informed him. “Glad to meet you. I’m Zack, Sephiroth you’ll have heard of, and this beautiful young woman here is Ess, our medic.”
“Anyway,” Sephiroth put in, “we should get moving. It’s quite a distance to the reactor, and the sooner we get there, the more time we’ll have to do whatever we need to. Follow me.”
“Wait! Mr. Sephiroth?”
This voice belonged to a particularly unimportant villager. Quite a crowd had turned out to see the party off, it seemed. “Could I just get a photo? You know, for the album?”
Sephiroth opened his mouth to make an uncharacteristically nasty comment, but Zack had seen his superior wasn’t in the best of moods right now and made sure he got in first. “Yeah, sure. Come on, Seph. Ess? Tifa? Over here. Right, now,” he began arranging the others, “Ess, you go over this side, Seph next to her, then me, then Tifa. Right? Smile!”
Click.
As Sephiroth steered the two girls off towards the path out of the village, Zack hung back and fell into step next to Cloud, who brought up the rear of the group along with the other soldier.
“What’s up with you?” he enquired, not too loudly. “I know she’s good looking, but it’s not exactly courteous to stare like that, is it?”
Cloud shook his head. “It’s not like that. She… I just knew her, before I left for Midgar. That’s all.”
“Really? Why don’t you go talk to her, then? She can’t recognise you with all that gear on, you know.”
“No, I… I mean… I told her I was going to be in SOLDIER. I can’t talk to her like this, it’d be so demeaning… the thing is…”
Zack shrugged. “Up to you, I guess. Your call.”

Cloud looked with suspicion at the worn bridge spanning the gap between two peaks. It had been the boundary of his childhood world - it had looked dangerous enough ten years ago, and time had not been kind.
“What’s taking so long?” called Sephiroth from the other side.
“You afraid of the big bad bridge?” taunted Zack, already halfway across.
“Alright already!” Cloud tentatively took a few steps, then proceeded cautiously along the bridge. Tifa and the other guard, following Cloud, were barely a few feet out when the bridge decided it had had enough and snapped between the two of them.
Cloud and Tifa were lucky enough to grab one of the planks and simply held on for dear life as the bridge swung down and smacked into the cliff on the far side. Zack was able to make a flying leap for the far cliff, but the other guard floundered and fell.
Ess and Sephiroth, the only two on solid ground, glanced at each other across the chasm. Sephiroth bent over and hauled Zack up next to him, then asked loudly, “Are you two going to be all right?”
“I’m fine,” shouted Cloud. He reached down as far as he could and just about managed to grab Tifa’s hand. He heaved her up to his level, then began clambering upwards towards the two SOLDIERs.
“Ow… I’m a bit beat up, but I’ll be okay,” called Tifa.
“Miss Harrison!” shouted Sephiroth.
“Y-yes?”
“See if you can take care of our fallen comrade. I suspect he will not be fit to travel the rest of the way to the reactor, so take him back to the town if he can be moved, or wait with him there and we will meet you on the way back.”
“Yes sir!”
“That was a little cold, don’t you think?” asked Zack quietly.
“She’s new, and needs to learn to take orders now, when it’s not so important. Then when it is important, she’ll do what she’s told without thinking.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
Zack leaned down and took hold of Cloud’s left hand as he neared the edge, then pulled the two of them back onto horizontal ground.
“Nice one, private,” he remarked, remembering about Cloud’s wish for anonymity. “Good work.”
Sephiroth nodded in agreement. “Impressive,” he concurred. “Anyway, let us continue. Miss Harrison? We will see you later!”

The guard had landed on a path, and as Ess climbed down the rocky cliff, she knew he’d never make it back to the village. Nevertheless, she made a great show of getting out her medkit confidently; then at least he wouldn’t think she’d given up on him.
He lifted one arm slowly. Ess pushed it back down and said, “Let me do it. You need to conserve your strength.” She carefully lifted his visor towards his helmet.
A set of parallel waveforms in the literature plane overlapped just enough, distorting the boundaries between realities. Something in the corner of Ess’ vision flickered, but when she looked there was nothing there.
“I…” croaked the guard. “I… I’m not gonna make it, am I?”
“There’s always hope,” said Ess reassuringly.
“Yeah… I guess you’re right. Not for…” he broke into a fit of coughing. “…not for me, though. Tell… tell Rinoa I always loved her…”
He died.
Ess brushed his blond hair out of his eyes, and absentmindedly fingered the scar on his forehead. “If I meet her, I’ll be sure to tell her. But I don’t even know your name…”
An idea struck her. All Shinra troops had their name and rank on a pair of metal dogtags that hung around their neck. She fished his out.
“Seifer Almasy… Don’t worry, Seifer. I’ll tell her.”

“Hmm… intriguing…” Sephiroth mused, wandering around the reactor antechamber. The room was sloped at quite a worrying angle, leading from the lower area - where he was currently standing - up a single flight of steps in the centre to a door set in the back wall. He could just about see a word painted on the wall above it, but from here he couldn’t quite make out what it said. Still, that didn’t really bother him right now. Far more important were the rows upon rows of large red egg-shaped pods - the Mako crystallisation chambers, if he remembered correctly from that hefty official document that he’d been forced to trawl through before the mission. They were the devices that actually condensed the Mako and extracted the energy from it, so they seemed a suitable place to start if he was to find this fault.
“Whoa, this is kinda surreal,” Zack observed as he joined him. He’d been inside one or two reactors on duty before, but this was one of the very first the Company had constructed, and its innards weren’t quite as well hidden from the public eye as in the newer models. They weren’t as well put together, either. From the pipes all around him, clouds of faint blue smoke leaked out where the joints hadn’t been welded properly.
Sephiroth nodded in agreement as he knelt down by one of the pods and examined the base. In keeping with the general atmosphere of the room, a whole collection of small pipes came out from it, presumably carrying the Mako away - or in. It probably didn’t make that much difference either way.
He tapped a valve with the end of the Masamune. It creaked loudly and released a puff of foul-smelling greenish vapour.
“I think we have our fault,” he commented to Zack. “Looks like the chambers are leaking. We’ll have to go round and tighten all these up - that should do it, I reckon.”
Zack nodded. “Yeah, sure. You want to do that side, I’ll do this one?”
“A sensible suggestion.”
But first, he mused as he straightened up and made his way towards the stairs, he’d go and see what that word was. For once he was curious - after all, it was quite interesting to see exactly how these things worked. Hojo and his cronies kept all their secrets pretty well locked up, even from guys like Heidegger, technically their superiors.
“J…” he murmured to himself, tracing out one of the faint letters. “E…”
“Ack!” Zack exclaimed behind him. He’d successfully turned the valve the wrong way, and it was now pumping out dense, high pressure clouds of Mako into his face, making it nigh on impossible for him to actually get back to turn the thing off. “Waah! Help!”
It took Sephiroth no more than a second or so to bound back down the stairs and force it closed. He sighed wearily at Zack.
“Careless, Zack, careless. You don’t realise what’s inside there, do you? Believe me, you wouldn’t be so hasty if you did.”
“Huh? No, haven’t a clue,” Zack replied cheerfully.
“Go ahead. Have a look.”
Each pod was fitted with a small observation window, a circle of frosted glass maybe a foot across, and cleverly placed just above head height to make it particularly inconvenient should anyone actually wish to observe anything. Zack threw both his arms over the top of the chamber and hauled himself up so he could see inside.
“What the hell is that?” he said once he saw.
Sephiroth smiled. “Concentrated Mako,” he explained. “The reactor draws it from the Planet, then extracts all the energy from it in there. That’s why it’s such a revolting colour.”
“Yeah, but… what’s the thing in there with it?”
“Excuse me?” Now it was Sephiroth’s turn to be confused. “The ‘thing?’ Let me see.”
Zack hopped down and allowed the other through. Sephiroth was tall - considerably taller than most - and he could get a glimpse through the window without having to strain himself.
“Good lord,” he muttered.
As he’d expected, the chamber was filled with the swamp green fumes of ‘dead’ Mako. Actually, that wasn’t entirely true. The word ‘filled’ implies that the smoke was the only thing inside. It wasn’t. Curled up in a ball at the bottom of the pod was… well, perhaps at one point it had been a person. Perhaps it had been a cat. Perhaps… It was impossible to tell. All that was certain now was that it had been mutated beyond anything mere evolution could do.
And then everything became clear.
“Oh, I see,” he mused. “Now I get it.”
“What? What exactly is it?”
Sephiroth stood back and nodded towards the pod. “You know the basic Mako theory. When Mako is condensed, it becomes a gas, like in there. Take the process further and…?”
“Uh…” Zack could tell Sephiroth was testing him. “Don’t tell me… Ah, got it. You get materia, don’t you?”
“Indeed. Pure spirit energy coalesces around dust particles in the air to give you imperfect materia - fire, ice, lightning, that sort of thing. I think the guys in R&D’re still trying to get it to coalesce without a core - you’ve heard of the Ultima Project, I assume?”
“Yeah. The ‘perfect materia,’ and all that.”
“Correct. Anyway, that’s beside the point.” He tapped the window with the point of the Masamune. “So you tell me. What do you think happened to that… in there?”
Zack’s eyes widened. “You mean… they put something in there? Deliberately?”
Sephiroth nodded again. “Doctor Melchior Hojo,” he stated flatly. “Insane, true, but I never thought he’d do anything like this… I believe this is the source of our monsters. He’s obviously too conceited to tell the others that he’s been doing this. Thinks we’d just come here, tighten a few screws and let the thing pass.” He shook his head sadly. “What an idiot. The only thing you can do with a place like this is to burn it down.”
Zack ‘hmm’ed in agreement.
Sephiroth glanced back up towards the door. Still, it aroused his curiosity. There had to be… hang on…
J-E.
Jenova.
Without saying anything, he strode back up the stairs. Yes, once you knew what you were looking for it became much easier to read the faded word. Jenova.
So that was why. He’d used her as a guinea pig. Hojo had taken Jenova and locked her away, throwing as much corrupted energy at her as he could. Only the Cetra knew what she could have become by now - if she was still alive.
Sephiroth shook his head sadly. He’d never known his mother well enough to form a familial bond - he’d never really known his mother full stop - and he wasn’t the most sensitive person around. He appreciated that. This discovery didn’t hit him in the emotions, but he could appreciate that it might have done, had he known his mother better. That scientist couldn’t do this sort of thing. He’d have to be stopped once they got back to Midgar. Sephiroth vowed, then and there, that he’d see it done.
He stepped up to the door and peered through the window set in it into the room beyond. Something in there was glowing so brightly he couldn’t make out a thing.
…my son!…
He stood back and shook his head. Wonderful. Now he could barely see, full stop.
“You alright, sir?” Zack asked, worriedly. “You went a bit thoughtful there.”
Sephiroth smiled weakly. “Just wondering what’s through there,” he remarked. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just head back to town, shall we? I think we’ve seen all we need to see.”

Ess looked up as she heard footsteps approaching from the path to the mountains. At last, she thought. She’d got back to town maybe two or three hours ago, but whenever she tried to go anywhere where there were other people, such as her room at the inn, she got so many sly glances and comments along the lines of, “Oh, so where’s Cloud, then? I thought…?” that she’d decided she was better off just waiting by the road until the others got back. She hadn’t really been looking forward to telling Sephiroth that she’d let her first patient under his command die.
“Ah, Miss Harrison!” Sephiroth called over. “You found your way back, I see. How is…” He caught sight of Ess’ apprehensive expression. “Oh. I see.”
“Sir, he was practically dead by the time I got down there,” Ess explained, a tad defensively. “I think he must have crushed his -”
Sephiroth waved a hand dismissively. “The details mean nothing to me, I’m afraid.” He gave her a sad smile. “The company pays me to inflict wounds, not to understand them. I’m sure there was nothing you could do.”
Ess was surprised. Unlike many of the officers she’d worked under previously (well, supposedly, anyway) he sounded as if he actually meant that. “Thank you, sir. But… did you find the fault at the reactor? Is everything okay?”
“In a way.” Sephiroth nodded toward the Shinra mansion. “Yes, I did find the problem. It’s not fixed yet, but I shall make sure it is once we get back to the headquarters,” he replied cryptically. “Before we set off back, though, I need to do some research here. There is quite an extensive library in the mansion over there - I believe this was something of a retreat for the late Professor Gast in earlier years. You will have to allow me some time in there before we can set off back. I must ascertain some facts.”
He looked back over his shoulder. Tifa had been following pretty close behind him, and was now waiting demurely to be dismissed. Cloud and Zack, however, had been taking their time, chatting to one another, and were only now nearing the town.
“Hurry up, you two!” he shouted back at them, then happened to notice Tifa. “Oh, I do apologise. Miss Lockhart, thank you for your assistance and your patience. I hope we will have no further need of your services. You may leave. I fancy our business from now on will only bore you.”
“Um… thank you!” Tifa replied. She hurried off, pausing a few metres away for a second or so to look back over her shoulder. It had been kinda interesting helping with a SOLDIER assignment, but… she couldn’t help but wish it had been Cloud they’d sent, however gentlemanly Sephiroth was.
“As I was saying to Miss Harrison,” Sephiroth told the two latecomers, “I have some research to do before we may leave. I will be in the mansion basement. Mr. Strife, you will take the watch to ensure that I am not disturbed. Zack, Ess,” in a gesture of goodwill he decided to use her first name, “you two may have the rest of the day off. I shall call on you when we are ready to depart.”
“I’d better go start watching,” Cloud said as Sephiroth strode off. “I’ll see you guys later, then.”
He turned and hurried after Sephiroth’s departing back.
Zack shrugged. “Well?” he began to Ess. “What -”
“Oh, don’t you start as well,” Ess retorted venomously. “Look, I’m not going out with Cloud, okay? Got that?”
“Whoa, whoa!” Zack took a few paces back, holding his hands out defensively in front of him. “I was only going to ask how the mission’s been so far! But, seeing as we’re talking about Cloud,” he grinned, “how long haven’t you two been going out, then?”
Ess tried to glare at him, but it didn’t last long before she, too, started to smile. “It’s not like that. He’s a nice guy, and I’m glad you set the two of us up. But things aren’t serious. He’s just a friend.”
“So why the outright denial? That only means one thing, you know.”
Ess shook her head. “His mum’s got some weird ideas,” she replied.
“Tell me about it. I went into there last night - Sephiroth suggested I ask around in case there’d been any recent sightings - and she started going on at me about how she thought a young man like me ought to settle down and find a nice, older girlfriend to take care of me.” Zack shrugged and scratched the back of his head thoughtfully. “Guess that means you’re not my type, then.”
“Shame,” Ess agreed.
“True.” Zack glanced over to the inn. “You know, I think I’ll go get all our stuff sorted out - room and board paid for, that sort of thing. Sephiroth’ll have me do it all before we leave, so I might as well get it done now. Why don’t you go keep Cloud company?”
Ess gave him a dark glance, in case there was a hidden meaning to that last sentence, but Zack’s face betrayed only innocent goodwill. She relented.
“Yeah, why not?”

Sephiroth pulled another book from the shelves and inspected the cover. ‘Mako and its uses in weaponry.’ Another Gast book. Honestly, the man must have been obsessed with terrachemistry. Sephiroth shrugged, calmly tossed the volume over his shoulder and picked another.
He’d never really known his mother. After all, she had died thirty-odd years ago… or so he’d been led to believe. Somehow, finding a huge door with ‘Jenova’ stamped on the wall above in huge capital letters made one begin to wonder if something more complex was afoot.
…you are…
Sephiroth would have been the first to admit that he was no scientist. To be perfectly honest, most of the stuff just went straight over his head, and in general that didn’t bother him. He was a soldier, no, better than that, he was a SOLDIER, and it was right that he was more concerned with, say, how a sword could be used in battle, as opposed to how one could turn it into gold, which wasn’t much use when there was a crazed behemoth charging straight at you.
…my son…
Even as a child, when it had become clear at the age of six or so that he wasn’t like the other kids, he hadn’t been too concerned. He’d been perfectly happy just to admit that he was different and to leave it at that.
…come to me…
But this… this piqued his curiosity, although that wasn’t really the best phrase to use…
…I am part of you…
What was so special about this reactor? Why was his mother’s name plastered across that door?
…let me use you…
He discarded another book and moved on to the first one on the next shelf. ‘The Jenova Project,’ yes, by Gast again.
…goodnight, my son…
This looked like being an interesting read.

“So now what?” asked Ess. “We just sit around while Sephiroth does research?”
“That’s the idea, I guess,” said Cloud.
Ess looked around the small room. They were in the Shinra Mansion, protecting the door to the staircase leading down to the basement from, currently, dust bunnies, small gusts of wind and one particularly confident moth. The only objects of interest in the room were a couple of potted plants and a creaky floorboard that Cloud kept stepping on. Ess was beginning to suspect that he did it on purpose.
“Well,” she said uncertainly. “Isn’t this nice.”

September 30th
Dear diary,
It wasn’t nearly as exciting as I’d hoped yesterday. Sephiroth is a very nice person, but he was obviously more interested in the mission than anything else. I suppose he should be, really. Apparently he was up all night reading up on stuff in the mansion. I don’t think I could ever take a job that seriously.
I don’t know why, but the village seems… different. Zack - he’s the other SOLDIER who came with Sephiroth - told us all that they’d found the problem and fixed it, but our confidence hasn’t returned. Everyone’s still staying in their houses and looking nervous. I can’t stand it! It’s so… suppressed. I think I’m going to go for a walk in the mountains later. Maybe people are just wary of Shinra, but I don’t want to stay indoors all day!
Tifa

Sephiroth lifted his head off the desk and stared around the room, wide-eyed from sleeplessness. His head felt as though he’d been repeatedly beating it against the desk for a few hours. Come to think of it, his entire body felt absolutely dreadful. Perhaps this was what it was like to be ill? He’d never experienced the sensation before, but, as the saying went, there was a first time for everything. Maybe he’d caught something up at the reactor or something.
…caught something? how ironic…
He stood up slowly, wincing as every joint in his back cracked, one by one. Pain? That was new, as well. As far as he could remember, he hadn’t felt pain for ten, fifteen years, at least.
What was happening to him?
…you are the chosen one, my son…
“Um… sir?”
Sephiroth spun round to face the source of the voice, so fast he surprised even himself. To Ess, standing just inside the door, it looked almost as if he simply rotated without even moving his feet. That unnerved her even more than his appearance.
“Ah, Miss Harrison,” he said weakly, leaning and supporting himself with one arm on the desk. “What would you be doing down here?”
“Sir…” Ess began uncertainly. “Sir, I was worried about you. Are you okay?”
…don’t make me laugh…
Sephiroth gave her a half-hearted smile. “Don’t concern yourself over me, my dear,” he replied. “I’m fine.”
…fine? really?…
“Sir,” Ess continued, not really sure whether this was such a good idea but determined to keep going nonetheless, “as your team medic, I really do think you should go and lie down for a bit. You look awful.”
…don’t stop now!…
Sephiroth nodded. “You’re probably right. I just need… just got to finish this research,” he said.
…good boy…
“Thank you, sir.”
Ess turned and hurried out, a worried frown on her face.

Cloud turned from the window as Ess came up the stairs. “Hey, Tifa’s left her house,” he said.
“You’re spying on her? That’s not very… nice,” said Ess.
“No, it’s not that, I just… I mean… aw, I’d better let you in on it. She’s got this great piano in her room, been in her family for ages. I always used to sneak in there and mess around on it. That’s actually how I learned to read music.”
“You can read music?” Stupid question. He just told you he could, why’d you ask?
“Yeah. So I thought I’d try one more time. For old time’s sake. Wanna go with me?”
Maybe it was nothing, but as Ess stood there she thought she heard herself answering, first with “No, I’ve got stuff I need to do,” then with “Sure, I’ll come along!”
So it was a Choice, then. She usually played a minor character, and so had only had to Choose a handful of times. A Choice was something that would alter the future of the plot - one way would be good, the other would be bad. Choices were rarely important in the long run, but in the short term…
“Sure, I’ll come along!”

Physical sensation had been the first to go. The entirety of his body had gone numb, from his feet to his crown. And then everything had gone cold. It shouldn’t have been possible once he’d lost all feeling, but the room had suddenly seemed freezing. But now, neither of these bothered him. Conscious and coherent thought were things of the past.
Sephiroth stood motionless, a book in one hand. He stared straight at the page in front of him, eyes not moving, unblinking.
…black materia? this may be something i can use…
Every few seconds he turned the page, his face showing no sign of registering what he was reading. Even after he turned the last page, his hand continued to turn the pages that were no longer there. Once he realised, he dropped the book and automatically took another from the shelf in front of him.
…a fountain of mako…
…i will ascend in the place where i descended. how ironic…
…i will become one with the lifestream…
…but i must become stronger first…
In one fluid motion Sephiroth drew the Masamune and stabbed it down into the floor. The blade passed smoothly through the stones until the hilt got stuck. Sephiroth collapsed next to it, breathing heavily, his fists clenched around the sword.
“Why…?” he murmured, so quite he was practically inaudible. “Why…”

“How can you just stand there, guarding?”
“Because I’m a guard!” grinned Cloud.
“But it’s so dull! I thought we’d be, you know, fighting monsters and stuff. I thought it’d be interesting. I thought it might even be scary!”
“The life of a fighter is usually short periods of excitement followed by long period of being bored,” said Cloud enigmatically.
A pause. Cloud shifted his weight, and a floorboard squeaked.
“Well, I’m bored,” announced Ess.
“I’m not surprised.”
“Hey, I noticed a restaurant near your Tifa’s house. You want to buy me dinner?”
“What? I’m on duty, I can’t just…”
“Look, it’s not as if anything’s going to try to get in here. The villagers think this place is haunted, and I’m sure Sephiroth can take care of any monsters.”
…monsters? ha, ha, ha…
“Uh… yeah, I could do that… uh… maybe? I mean… yes?”

Silence.
Absolute silence.
…how dare you disobey me? you are my son!…
…Your son? I was created from you!…
Sephiroth stalked around the room, his footsteps inaudible. To all sides torn pages and fragments of hardback covers littered the floor. Every step he took was mechanical, every movement identical to that before. It was obvious there was no conscious thought going into the motion.
…it is my right to rule! i am the rightful heir to this planet!…
…The Cetra are the heirs! They defeated you once, they -…
…the cetra are insignificant! i am as they are!…
…You are what might have been! You are nothing now!…
…i am the future!…
Sephiroth’s body convulsed. His feet slipped out from under him and he hit the floor face first, coughing blood.
…why do you fight me? i am giving you eternal life!…
…Because… because you have no… no right to… kill us…
…i gave you your life!…
“Hey? Sephiroth?”
Sephiroth stared up as a man came down the stairs into the library. Fairly tall, black spiky hair. No recollection.
“I brought you a sandwich,” Zack called as he ambled through the door. “You haven’t been up for days, I thought you might… whoa, man, what happened to you?”
Sephiroth’s glare focused.
“…sandwich?” he muttered.
“Huh? What’s up with you?”
…is he not pathetic?…
…He’s just like me!…
Sephiroth sprung to his feet. His arm moving so fast it was a blur, his hand gripped itself round the hilt of the Masamune and swung it at head height. Zack barely managed to duck in time.
…you are so much better than him!…
“Go!” Sephiroth yelled. “Leave now!”
As Zack departed with some alacrity, the Masamune fell from Sephiroth’s limp fingers.
…submit…
…No… I… will not…
…submit…
…good boy…
Sephiroth strode over to Zack’s fallen sandwich, dusted it off, and began to eat it with every sign of enjoyment.

The restaurant, called the Mako Bowl, seemed pleasant enough on the inside. Ess smiled when she realised that the tall, moustachioed, dark-haired waiter who ushered them to their table, in defiance of all literary laws, spoke with an Italian accent. He was wearing the standard penguin suit of waiters everywhere, and would have looked extremely smart were it not for the incongruous green beret he wore at a rakish angle.
“I’m a little worried about Sephiroth,” said Ess as they perused their menus.
“How come? Oh hey, they’ve got Red Bat Soup. Kinda expensive, though.”
“Well, he seemed a little distant when I last talked to him, and I’m sure he hasn’t been getting enough sleep.”
“You think he’s sick or something? I don’t think he’s ever taken sick leave. Ooh… no way! I could buy a tent for that much!”
“So you think he’s okay?”
Cloud lowered his menu and looked Ess in the eye. “I’m sure Sephiroth can take care of himself. But I’m not sure I can say the same about us, though. I’ve never been in here before, and this stuff is expensive! I don’t have nearly enough on me to pay for most of these things.”
Ess glanced at her menu. “What about this lobster?”
“Uh…yeah, I could just cover that, if we don’t get dessert.”
Responding to some instinct, the waiter materialized at their table. “You-a ready to order now?”
“Yeah, I think we’re both going to have the lobster,” said Cloud, pointing at the item on his menu.
“Okee-dokee. So you want-a two Lobster Bisque, heh?” His mustache twitched in such a surprising way when he spoke that Cloud had to stifle a laugh hurriedly. “And-a what to drink? The speciality tonight is-a Kerokero Cola.”
“Sure, I’ll try that. Ess?”
“Water’s fine for me,” she said.
The waiter took their menus and dematerialised.

“I wonder what his other name is?” wondered Cloud idly.
“The waiter?”
“No, Sephiroth.”
“What do you mean, his other name? Isn’t he just Sephiroth?”
“Well, everybody else I know has two names. Cloud Strife, Ess Harrison, Zack Ebony…Sephiroth only has one.”
“What, you mean like…Fred Sephiroth?” asked Ess incredulously.
“No, Sephiroth could be his first name. Like…oh, I dunno…Sephiroth Nobbs?”
“Sephiroth Nobbs? Cloud, what are you like after you’ve been drinking?” laughed Ess.
“Hey, I bet he’s the son of some executive at Shinra. That’s why he doesn’t use his last name. Sephiroth Shinra? Sephiroth Heidegger? Sephiroth Hojo?”
“Hojo? Seriously? The food fight guy?”
“You never know.” Cloud attempted to look serious and professorial, and didn’t entirely succeed. “Love strikes in the most unlikely places.”
The waiter rematerialised. “Here’s-a your soup-a.” He placed a steaming bowl of gloppy orange soup in front of each of them.
“Excuse me, but I don’t think we ordere…” Cloud was cut off by a short portly man with an even more extravagant moustache slamming the door open.
“Hey, it’s-a me!” announced the man.
The waiter peered at him with something close to recognition. “Who?” he asked suspiciously.
“Mario!”
“Mario? Hey everybody, this is-a my long-a lost brother, Mario!” shouted the waiter. Most of the diners broke into applause, while Ess just glowered into her soup. It’s a reunion of childhood pals, she thought, and then wondered why she had.

“Yeah, this is Zack Ebony, SOLDIER First Class, ID… um…” Zack dug one hand into his trouser pocket and rooted around for a few seconds, finally producing a creased plastic card. “470-26Z.”
“One moment, sir,” replied the condescending voice on the other end of the line. Zack sighed and tapped his foot impatiently for a few seconds until the HQ operator had done whatever she was going to. “Your identification has been verified, Mr. Ebony. To whom do you wish to speak?”
“Get me Heidegger,” Zack snapped irritably.
“Sir, I’m afraid General Heide-”
“Now.”
One thing few people expected of Zack when they first met him was that he could make his tone of voice incredibly commanding when absolutely necessary, to the extent that most people he ordered around obeyed him without even thinking about it.
He wandered over to his bed and slumped down on it, still holding his PHS to his ear. This wasn’t good… this really wasn’t good…
“Huh?” said Heidegger’s rather distinctive voice eventually. “What? Who are you? What do you want? I’m busy!”
“Zack Ebony,” Zack informed him flatly.
“Who?”
“SOLDIER, First Class, on assignment in Nibelheim with Sephiroth.”
“Oh, right. What is it?”
Zack took a deep breath.
“I want Sephiroth taken off duty.”
There was an uncomfortable pause, finally broken by Heidegger’s nervous laugh. “You know, there must be something wrong with this -”
“There isn’t.”
“Then… what possible reason could you have for wanting him out of action? No offence meant, but you damn well aren’t good enough to take on reactor spawn on your own. I’ve seen ‘em, and they ain’t pretty.”
“Sephiroth is more of a danger to this mission than any creatures we could go up against,” Zack said calmly. Originally he’d been a bit unsure about this, but with every word he became more and more certain. “I don’t know what, but something happened to him up at the reactor. It looks like he’s going mad or something. A few minutes ago he just tried to kill me.”
“What? Geez… You sure about that?”
“It’s the sort of experience that sticks in your memory, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“Okay, okay, point taken.” Heidegger hesitated. “This is most irregular…”
“You think?”
Heidegger sighed loudly. “Oh, fine. Ebony, you have the right to remove Sephiroth of his weapon and take over command of the mission.”
“Sir, that really isn’t good enough. If I try to take the Masamune off him, he’d run me through. We’ll need a team with tranquillisers and stun spores and whatnot. ASAP.”
There was no reply from the other end.
“Heidegger?” Zack shouted into the mouthpiece, becoming more agitated. “Heidegger? This is important, damnit!”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Ebony,” said a calm, quiet voice. “I am Dr. Hojo. You obviously do not comprehend the importance of this mission. Delays of any sort are simply unacceptable. You will proceed as planned.”
“Perhaps you don’t ‘comprehend!’” Zack yelled. “Sephiroth tried to kill me! He’s a danger to the entire team!”
“Really?” Hojo laughed softly. “Then I suggest you do your best not to annoy him until the mission is over. Either that or simply stay out of his way until he has finished the mission.”
“But -”
“No buts, SOLDIER. Do not meddle with affairs of which you have no understanding. Good day.”
There was a brief silence before Heidegger’s voice returned.
“You still there?” he asked.
“You -” Zack began.
“Shutupshutup!” Heidegger’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Look, Hojo’s playing God. I haven’t a clue exactly what he thinks he’s doing, but he’s acting on his own there. He’s got no authorisation from above. You just stay put and I’ll have a squad leaving for Nibelheim within an hour or so.”
Zack was, to put it simply, speechless. He knew none of the Shinra execs really got on with one another, or with anyone else for that matter (with the exception of Heidegger and his new secretary Scarlet) but to see them openly defying one another came as quite a shock. Heidegger must be really worried about this new turn of events, although - this was certain - not nearly as worried as Zack himself.
“Um… thanks, sir,” was all he could manage.
“Stay alive out there, Ebony.”

Ess stopped outside the door to her room. A few seconds later, Cloud ambled unhurriedly up the stairs and joined her.
“So, um…” Ess stared at the floor, not really sure why she was doing so. “It’s getting kinda late. I guess we should probably be heading off to sleep. Hopefully Sephiroth’ll finish whatever he wants to do tonight, and we can head home tomorrow morning.”
Cloud nodded sagely. “Yeah, suppose so. Um…” He paused, obviously finding it difficult to say whatever he wanted right now. “Look, er… I’ve really enjoyed talking to you. D’you mind if we… well… get together after this is out of the way? On a more personal basis?”
Ess smiled. “Yes,” she replied confidently. “I’d like that.”
Cloud beamed. “It’s a date,” he announced to the corridor as a whole. “Well… I’ll see you tomorrow. G’night, Ess.”
He practically bounded off down the passage, and Ess slowly stepped into her room, closing the door behind her. She wandered over to her bed and sat down heavily on it. What was she thinking? Hadn’t she decided, only three days ago, that she wasn’t going to let herself become just another love interest? Not again. She was going to do things her own way this time. She was an agent, damnit!
There was a tentative knock on the door. Ess cursed inwardly as she realised she’d leaped up and had her hand on the handle before even one conscious thought had passed through her mind.
Unsurprisingly, it was Cloud, looking even more sheepish than he had earlier. “You know, it’s not that late, really,” he said softly. “Would you mind if I came in for a bit?”
No! yelled the voice of Ess’ training. It’s been nice, but I’m staying on my own this time!
But it didn’t really stand much of a chance, as the pink fog flowed in once more, engulfing it and reducing its words to mere suggestions of thoughts, unheeded. In love, no one can hear you scream, it mused sulkily as it slumped in one corner of her mind and watched the proceedings gloomily.
“Yes,” Ess said, her voice not much above a whisper. “Please do.”

October 1st
Dear diary,
I’d hoped things would be different today, but nothing’s changed. The atmosphere seems so stifling! I could barely sleep last night. In the end I just gave up trying and messed around on the piano for a while. Even that feels sad, somehow. Half the notes weren’t working properly. They kept sticking all the time.
What’s wrong with the town? Why is everyone like this? Aren’t we safe now?
I just hope the Shinra people leave as soon as possible. Sephiroth scares me. It’s about five o’clock in the morning now, and the lights are still on in the mansion. I don’t think they’ve been turned out since we came back from the reactor. Something isn’t right.
I’m scared.
Tifa

Cloud opened his eyes, and took in the view dispassionately. Another unfamiliar ceiling. He’d woken up in many different places since he’d joined the massed Shinra troops, and was starting to get the hang of it. He cautiously prodded his memories, trying to wrest some information from them, but they hid behind his pounding headache and refused to have anything to do with him. No help there.
It wasn’t until Ess mumbled something in her sleep, then rolled over and dragged all the sheets to her side of the bed that things started falling into place.
Quietly, so as not to disturb her, he stepped into his uniform and snuck out of the room. The two of them would have plenty of time together later, but now, while he still had the chance, he had to find Zack. He smiled in anticipation of the look on the SOLDIER’s face.

“Hey, Sephiroth?”
Cautiously, Zack stepped into the library, ready to dive to either side if necessary. His sword was strapped to his back - he’d decided this time, no risks.
“Sephiroth?”
This part of the library was empty, but - far weirder - it was tidy. All the mess from last night had just, well… disappeared. The books were back on the shelves as if nothing had happened. It was almost enough, if anything actually was, to make Zack doubt that what he remembered happening last time actually had.
There was a thin passage connecting this part of the library to what was referred to as the ‘inner sanctum’ - a circular room, the walls lined entirely with books. In the very centre was a small desk, behind which sat the great man himself.
He smiled at Zack and beckoned to him. That had to be a good start, Zack mused.
“Ah, the human. Do come in.”
That wasn’t so good.
“You feeling any better?” Zack hazarded hopefully.
Sephiroth beamed. “As good as can be expected, yes. You will, of course, be waiting to ask what happened to Sephiroth last night.”
…third person? thought Zack.
“Uh, yeah,” he said.
“How predictable. Very well.” Sephiroth nodded towards the books. “I shall explain.”
He did so.
“What? You mean -”
“Yes, indeed. And there is more.”
He related it.
“But -”
“Allow me to finish, human. I am…”
He elaborated.
“…my mother,” he finished a couple of minutes later. “You can have no idea what you are dealing with, human.”
Zack began to reach for his sword. “So what are you saying? That you’re…”
Sephiroth stood, waving a hand to silence him. “If you follow, you will behold the ultimate power. But first… you will have to excuse me one moment.” He stalked calmly past Zack, then paused and looked back over his shoulder. “I have to demonstrate the frailty of your species.”

The heat felt like a solid wall as Zack sprinted out of the mansion. Everywhere, buildings were ablaze. The sky was literally black with the smoke. Through the fire, one or two men were just about visible running into the houses and trying to rescue any potential survivors.
Zack stopped and stared. What… Sephiroth…?
As he stood, a familiar voice called out, “Merton!” and a second wave of heat flowed over the village, igniting most of the houses that hadn’t yet been overcome by the flames. Zack spun round until he spotted him. That…
Sephiroth returned his gaze and waved cheerfully, with his left hand, neatly skewering a couple of villagers with the Masamune in his right. Grinning, he raised his hand above his head and shouted, for Zack’s benefit rather than out of necessity, “[EternalFlame!”
Zack was forced to look away as a blinding white light burst out from his palm, engulfing everything around him. A brief moment later the light winked out, there was a deafening explosion, and Zack looked back to see Sephiroth striding away across literally boiling ground, heading for the reactor.
He gritted his teeth. He couldn’t just walk away from all this.
Testing his grip on his sword, he charged through the blaze and headed after the murderer.

Not more than half a minute or so afterwards, one of the bodies - dressed in the Shinra soldiers’ uniform, complete with gauntlets and helmet - in the town square began to stir. Cloud sat up, trying to blink away the flashing lights in front of his eyes for a few seconds before he realised that they were actually real, and that his hometown was on fire.
His. Hometown. On. Fire.
Still somewhat concussed, he tried to piece together what he remembered. He’d left Ess inside, yes. He’d gone back to the mansion to find Zack. Then Sephiroth had come striding out past him. He’d hurried after the SOLDIER, trying to give him a report. And then… Sephiroth had turned to him, said something, and… After that, everything was blank.
With deliberate calm that he knew would disappear the moment he truly realised what was going on, he got to his feet. There was a group of men clustered around the inn, and he made his way over to them and tapped one on the shoulder.
“Sephiroth,” he said simply. “Where?”
The other glanced back, then pointed over towards the other end of town. “He’s gone off towards the mountains, thank the Cetra,” he replied. “Say, you alright? You don’t look so… hey! Come back!”
But Cloud, as he sprinted off, wasn’t paying any attention. The man shrugged and turned back to the inn. Flames spurted from one of the upstairs windows. “He’s been in there for too long. I’m going in after him.”
“I’m fine,” came a voice from inside. It was followed shortly by Zangan, who came running out of the building with Ess over his shoulder. “She’s the last in there. All the others either got out or…” He shook his head sadly.
“How is she?”
“She’ll live, if taken care of.” He stared around the town. “Okay, that’s every house done. I want you lot to get away. Go to Cosmo Canyon to the south. But don’t let Shinra know you’re still alive.”
“What? Why?”
“I know the President,” Zangan sighed. “He’ll want it covered up that Sephiroth did this. You’re all liabilities, and you need to disappear. Either do it yourselves or they’ll make you. Now go. I’m going to deal with Sephiroth myself.”

The door was still there. Pathetic, not more than a few inches thick. To think that anyone could have believed something this thin could have stopped her son… The idea was laughable.
Sephiroth calmly tossed the Masamune over his shoulder. Why did he need such weapons? His true strength was inside him. Only these ridiculous humans relied on anything as frail as weapons. He planted both hands against the door, and began to push. The metal buckled easily.
The footsteps behind him were easily audible. Calmly, unhurriedly, he turned, reaching out with one hand and catching the Masamune as that girl from the village tried to hit him with it. She must have followed him all the way here. How touching.
He stared directly into her eyes as he twisted her arm round, crushing her wrist in his grip. It took no more than a second to wrest the sword from her, and then… He swung, smiling grimly as he heard her cry of pain, saw the blade tear the skin, felt it scrape along the bone. So helpless… so easily destroyed…
Ignoring her as she fell, he turned back to the door. One more blow was all it needed before the entire thing crumpled before him. And beyond… to be finally free, after all these years…
He stepped through into the gloom beyond. Yes, it was there. Before him, a huge statue of iron and steel, designed to steal her life force away. To cripple her, for the good of these pitiful humans! What did they think gave them the right to do such things?
“Mother and son, reunited…” he mused darkly as he approached. “The spirit of one with the body of the other… So amusing.”
With one calm sweep of his hand he tore the metal ‘mask’ from the statue before him. The seal was broken. Now -
“Hey!”
He sighed wearily and turned. Oh. The SOLDIER.
“Ah. You,” he observed coldly. “Begone.”
“What is this for?” Zack shouted at him. “Why? The town, all the people, everything… Why?”
Sephiroth began to smile. “You want to know why? Look at this place!” He waved an arm expansively. “Those pathetic beings… the humans… they caged my mother here, thinking they had defeated her. They tried to take this planet from her, knowing full well it was rightfully mine!… Um, hers.”
Zack glared. “You… whatever happened to you must have messed you up more than I thought…” He unslung his sword from his back. “You’re not the Sephiroth I used to know!”
“How true…”

By the time Cloud finally arrived in the Jenova chamber, Zack’s dropped sword in hand, Sephiroth’s mood had deteriorated considerably. He was standing next to the… the… next to Jenova, his back towards the entrance, gripping her head with both hands and shouting loudly at it.
“Will you just let me have your head?” he was yelling. “It’s not as if you need it any more, is it?”
Running on adrenaline rather than conscious thought, Cloud began advancing towards him.
“This would have been so much more impressive if only your neck wasn’t so tough!” Sephiroth continued. “I could have - ow.”
This rather impassive final word was caused by Cloud sprinting up and sticking Zack’s impressively large sword between his ribs. Coldly, Sephiroth glanced down and stared at the blade now protruding from his chest.
“I resent this,” he snapped, not even looking back. “Pathetic fool.”
Putting all the strength he could muster - which, in his current state, was not inconsiderable - into his arms, he gave Jenova’s head one last heave. With a painful ripping sound, it finally came off in his hands.
He turned round and gave Cloud a nasty whack on the head with it. The WHUMP echoed around the chamber for a good five or six seconds, by the end of which period Cloud had collapsed at his feet.
“Whuh… hate hate hate… ugh…” he mumbled before passing out. Still holding Jenova’s head in one hand, Sephiroth stepped daintily over him and made his way towards the exit. The rest could wait. For the moment, it was probably best to find somewhere where those human idiots would not come looking for him.
The room adjacent to the antechamber - the maintenance chamber, or, to give it its unofficial name, the Pit of Death - consisted of not much more than a deep chasm, at the bottom of which were dense clouds of Mako. Engineers and technicians who needed to check the bottom always had to be given intense abseiling training beforehand. One rather thin bridge spanned the gap. In one of those moments of corporate ingenuity, whoever had designed it had seen fit not to include any barriers on either side, obviously for fear it would destabilise the bridge or something similarly stupid.
Sephiroth clambered up onto it and began trudging across. For some reason it was rather difficult to move his feet. They felt as if someone had sneaked slabs of lead into each shoe. For that matter, every movement was kind of difficult. Even keeping his eyes open required a surprising level of concentration.
He happened to glance down as he reached the centre of the bridge. Oh, yes. That would be it. That damn sword was still sticking straight through him. Blood loss, probably. This body must be dying.
“Oh, bugger,” he muttered as he toppled sideways off the bridge.

“…and that’s the long and the short of it,” Cloud concluded.
The Author took his hands away from his ears for the second time. “My word,” he said mildly. “What a plotline.”
“Can I just make sure I got everything there?” Mr. Big cut in. “So… you two, Zack and this Sephiroth chap we keep hearing about came to do a mission in Nibelheim. Miss Tifa here took you up to the reactor, where Sephiroth saw something that made him burn down the village and try to kill all of you. While he was doing this you two were getting jiggy with it, and after the whole affair you, Cloud, killed off Sephiroth and promptly disappeared from the limelight for five years. Am I correct?”
“Yeah…” Cloud agreed.
“Now jes’ hang on a damn second!” Barret piped up. “Didn’t Sephiroth show up back at the Shinra HQ?”
“Yeah.”
Barret looked confused. “Now that jes’ don’t add up…”
“But what happened after Sephiroth knocked you out?” Jessie enquired. “How’d you survive? How did you get to Midgar?”
Cloud shook his head. “…I don’t know. All I recall is everything going black after that, and then… the next thing I can remember is arriving here in Midgar. Everything in between’s just… gone…”
“Convenient,” Ess muttered darkly. Cloud gave her a despairing look.
“Um, well, anyway,” Perigee cut in quickly, spotting an opportunity here, “I’m sure we all want to head off to bed and mull this over, if you follow me, don’t we? I’d say that, whatever happened between then and now, Sephiroth is obviously back, isn’t he? And that can’t be good. So we’ll want to follow him tomorrow, right? Therefore we should get some sleep. Ess, I’ll walk you back to the bar.”
Ess shot him a rather nasty glance, then nodded once. “Why don’t you? I’m sure there’s lots you have to tell me.” She beckoned to her son. “Come on, Roch.”
“Hmm…” Mr. Big began once the three of them had left the room. “He seemed rather keen to get out, didn’t he?”
“Probably just being a diplomat,” the Author replied. “He’s got a point, though, hasn’t he? If we are to get moving in the morning, I suggest we do start getting ready to drop off now. Anyone got any hideous objections?”
None, unsurprisingly.
“Glad to hear it. In that case, I shall bid you farewell and good night, and,” he smiled over at Aeris, “make my leave. Care to escort me to my room, my dear?”

“So are you okay?” asked Perigee once they were out of earshot of the others.
“I suppose,” said Ess, whose well of sarcasm had run dry for the moment. “It’s a little weird, knowing that you’ve only existed here for a couple of days, while I…”
“Yeah,” said Perigee when it became clear that the rest of that sentence would never see the light of day. “Listen, um… I think it would be best if you stayed away from Cloud.”
“……”
“He’s supposed to be getting interested in Aeris, and… hang on.” He looked at her carefully. “What did you just say?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“So how did I hear you not saying anything?”
“What, like this? ‘……’”
“Yes, that!”
“Everybody can do that. Everybody in the world. Why, haven’t you noticed?”
“Well, I have, but…” Perigee shook his head a couple of times. “That settles it, then. I’d guessed at it before, but now I’m sure. I haven’t integrated properly. I shouldn’t be able to notice things like that.”
“……” Ess grinned at him.
“Anyway…what were we talking about?”
“Cloud.”
“Oh yeah. Him and Aeris are supposed to get together in the next couple of weeks or so. That’s not going to happen if you’re trying to patch things up with him.”
“……” said Ess, without really meaning to.
“I know you haven’t seen him in five years, and he’s probably much more mature now than he was then, but try to restrain yourself. You know the role you tend to get absorbed into.”
“So you’re saying I don’t have any self-control?”
“No, it’s not that, it’s just that you tend to led your emotions lead, rather than your thoughts.”
“Really? You think that? Then you’ll understand exactly why I’m breaking up with you.”
“What?” Perigee stopped, and simply stared.
“Come on. After all that’s happened, you really expected that there would still be an Us?”
“Well, I…”
“Maybe I like Cloud. Maybe he at least makes an effort to understand me.”
“I…” Perigee, true to form, let curiosity wrest control of his mouth from his feelings. “What, you’re actually interested in Cloud?”
“Is that so surprising?”
“Granted, he is a hero, and has all the normal associated attributes, but he’s not real! He’s completely fictional!”
“He’s no less human than you, Gamer.” Ess was almost sorry she’d said it when she saw the look on Perigee’s face. Almost.
“Well, I’ve got work to do,” she said uncomfortably. “I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah.”
She walked off quickly. Perigee half-expected her to stop at the door to the bar and look back, but she didn’t. He sighed, turned around, and almost tripped over Roch.
“Are you Perigee?” asked the boy.
“That’s me,” said Perigee. Roch kicked him in the left shin. “Mom doesn’t like you. She says you don’t care enough.” He pushed past the chemist and ran off.

“…I’m worried…” Aeris was saying, sitting next to the Author on his bed.
The Author raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Well…” Aeris looked slightly embarrassed. “Cloud was saying Sephiroth said something about the Cetra, wasn’t he?”
“Hmm?”
“What if he tries to make me…” Aeris paused. “…help him?” she finished. It obviously wasn’t what she’d been thinking of, but in polite company - or at least relatively polite - she didn’t want to say what was actually on her mind.
Mr. Big opened his mouth to say something, but for once in his life decided this wasn’t the moment and closed it again. The Author, who had been about to make a comment, was so shocked by this that he completely forgot what it was he’d wanted to say.
“I don’t think you need get too scared about these things,” he came up with after a few seconds. “Just think - he was in the Shinra building at the same time as us, wasn’t he? If he’d wanted to do anything with… to you, he could easily have done it then. Unless, of course, he was scared of us, in which case you definitely haven’t got anything to worry about. You’re not planning to abandon us any time soon, are you?”
She smiled weakly. “No fear of that.”
“In that case you’re okay. Look, as I said back in Midgar, I have no intention of letting you die. I’m sticking to that. I’ll be with you if you ever need me, okay?”
“Yeah…” She hesitated. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” The Author leaned over and kissed her gently on her forehead. “Now get off to your room and get some rest.” He glanced up as someone knocked on his door, destroying whatever moment there might have been. “Yes?”
The door opened a few inches, and Perigee’s head poked itself round. “Might I have a word?” he enquired, in a voice that made it perfectly clear he was going to have a word whether the Author liked it or not.
The Author shrugged unconcernedly. “Go ahead. What’s up?”
Perigee limped in, then turned to Aeris. “Would you mind just leaving us alone for a bit?” he asked sweetly. “This is… um…”
“I get the idea.” Aeris stood up and smiled at him, then looked back over her shoulder. “Goodnight, Author.”
“I can’t help noticing you -” the Author began as she left and closed the door softly behind her.
“Well?” Perigee cut him off.
The Author raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. “Yes, thank you for asking,” he replied, deliberately missing the point of the comment. “How are you?”
“Don’t give me that,” Perigee snapped. “Come on, you can’t fool me. I’m afraid I know exactly who should be around by this stage, and you shouldn’t. We’re the only team integrated, you should know that.”
“I’m afraid I really don’t follow you,” replied the Author guardedly, beginning to hazard a guess as to up which tree the scientist was barking.
“Come off it,” Perigee continued loudly. “And you’re not even trying to pretend you’re not interested in Aeris. Look, I’ve rumbled you, okay? So who exactly are you? What’s your motive?”
The Author sighed. The LTF was really going downhill, if this was the sort of person who ended up working for it. Still, perhaps the man had hidden qualities. Very well hidden.
“You want to know who I am?” he retorted coldly, standing up and returning Perigee’s venomous stare evenly. “Allow me to introduce myself, then. The Author, ex-commander of Omega team. You would be Perigee… Roberts?”
Perigee stood perfectly motionless for a few seconds, then sagged.
“Yeah, that’s me,” he said wearily, sitting down on the bed. “You’re reinforcements, are you?”
The Author nodded.
“Well, the Lord didn’t think you could handle this on your own,” Mr. Big put in pointedly. The Author waved a hand to try and shut him up.
“So you thought I was ‘FG,’ did you?” he asked mildly. “You were mistaken, though. Quite a rash move, charging in and accusing me, wasn’t it? What if I’d been a normal character?”
“With a name like ‘the Author?’”
“He’s got a point,” Mr. Big agreed sagely.
“Okay, I’ll let you off on that one. So… you’re the team proper. Would I be right in assuming that the new girl… Ess… is one of yours?”
Perigee nodded sadly. “Yes. She was my… well… we were rather close.”
“Were?”
“Yes. I don’t think she’s too keen on me now after what happened to her five years ago.”
“Five years…? Oh, yes, I remember. You lot all integrate at different times, don’t you? Silly idea. Never held with it myself.”
“Yes,” Perigee replied flatly. He’d heard about the antics of Omega team, before they were disbanded by popular demand from the Writers. Well, ‘popular demand’ means that the Writers all went on strike and refused to let history continue until the team had been kicked out. The leader of that team - who, until now, had never been named - had not exactly been blessed with a regard for tradition. Perigee, who took his job perhaps too seriously, had not broken a rule even once since his appointment to the head of Phi team, and couldn’t really identify with anyone who did. “Look, if we could -”
“What exactly happened that she doesn’t like?”
“You mean apart from falling in love with someone who got her pregnant and then disappeared?” Perigee practically spat at him. The Author took a pace back.
“Why don’t you talk to Cloud about this?” he suggested. Perigee shook his head.
“It’s not Cloud’s fault. Don’t ask me how I know, I just do. I’ve -”
“External references?”
Perigee stopped. “Huh?”
“Let me guess. You’ve played this game.”
“Er, what, um… I mean, yes, but… how did you know?”
The Author shrugged modestly. “An educated guess. These things happen, more often than you’d think. Major plots can get repeated throughout history, sometimes just as books, films, or computer games, all linked together. You change the story in one, you change it in all of them. Anyway, do go on.”
“Um, okay. Basically, Shinra took Cloud to do experiments on him. That’s why he can’t remember what happened. He only escaped a few weeks ago, I think.”
“Have you considered telling him this?”
Perigee shook his head emphatically. “No. He’s meant to figure it all out himself later on - it’s part of his character development. We shouldn’t change more than we have to… oh, and that brings me to another thing I wanted to mention. I don’t want you doing anything with Aeris.”
“Why on earth not?”
“I…” Perigee paused and considered his argument. “I know that Sephiroth’s going to try and kill Aeris, like the letter said. I know when, as well, and where, and how. But… you know the laws of integration and differentiation, right? If we change things now, it might happen in a different place, or a different time. And I want to keep the plot as close to the original as I can, so that I know what I need to do to stop that happening.”
“Hmm… So, let me just get this straight. You know when this Sephiroth person is going to try and kill Aeris.”
“Yes.”
“So you want to make sure that happens.”
“Yes. I mean, no, of course not. I just want him to try when he’s supposed to.”
“Right.” The Author considered this. “Interesting way of working. What team are you?”
“Phi team.”
“Ah. That explains it.” The Author shrugged again, and leaned forwards. “No.”
“No what?”
“I’m not going to steer clear of her. You can’t predict everything that’s going to happen, my friend. Besides, the most important thing is to stay in character. It’d look out of place if we all started staying away from her because we knew that was the best way to get her killed later on, wouldn’t it? If my role in the story dictates that I’m to look after her, that’s what I’ll do.” He gave a smile, reached into one of his pockets and produced a die. This trick was one of Croft’s favourites. “Look, I’ll show you that things don’t happen the way you expect them to. I’ll give you thousand to one odds that this shows a six.”
“So…” Perigee thought for a moment, distracted by the problem in hand. “If you roll a six, I get a thousand times my stake?”
“Yes.”
“No, then. I’m not betting.”
“And why not?
“Because it’s got to be a trick. You wouldn’t give me those odds otherwise. I’m not stupid.”
“Fine.” The Author held out the die for inspection. There were six spots on every face.
“Clang!” said Mr. Big cheerfully. “Gotcha, thank you, come again.” He grinned. “That one’s pointless, but strangely satisfying.”
“That’s just a trick, though,” Perigee observed astutely. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
The Author smiled wryly. “Take this principle,” he explained, indicating the die. “Now apply it to the plot. I’ll see you in the morning. I assume your friend’s coming with us?”
“Hmm?” Perigee’s mind was already hard at work on the new conundrum it had been set. “I think so.”
He turned and walked wordlessly out through the door. On the second attempt he tried opening it, which worked rather better.

“Well?” Mr. Big asked once the two of them were alone.
The Author gave him a slightly confused glance. “Well what?”
“What do you think of him?”
The Author shrugged. “Seems sincere enough, at least, even if he does have some rather unusual ideas as to how I should go about protecting Aeris. Still, he seems easily good enough for Phi team. You remember those idiots in Phi when we joined up?”
“How could I forget? That guy with the silly hair. Zell… something-or-other. Incompetents, the lot of them.”
“Whereas I get the impression that Perigee could actually be reasonably good at times,” the Author pointed out. “He’s got the intelligence, if not the sense.”
“Yeah.” Mr. Big paused, then took his sunglasses off and gave the Author a knowing look. “So what’s the deal with Aeris?”
“The ‘deal?’”
“Yeah. I can see what’s happening, you know. Protecting her indeed. You’ve got other ideas, I can tell.”
The Author opened his mouth, rethought what he was going to say, and closed it again. Other ideas? Did he?
“Do I?”
“Oh, come on. Look, all those suave lines back at the church. That moment in the Shinra building - you know, with the pod thing in the labs. And you’ve been talking to her pretty much non-stop since we left the city. Like I said, I recognise the signs. You can’t hide it from me.”
The Author held his gaze calmly.
“I can assure you I have no intentions other than to guard her,” he said flatly. “The fact that she has a wonderful amiable personality merely helps matters.”
“Yeah, whatever. Sooner or later you’ll be sacrificing your life for hers, you know.”
“Please. I don’t plan to get myself killed for any reasons at all.”
“So you’d rather she was the one to get killed, then?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” The Author stared at his rabbit thoughtfully. “There must be some way I can sacrifice you instead.”

In a darkened room, on the other side of the world, a man squinted into a crystal ball and pensively watched the flickering image within it. Finding a suitably sized materia sphere with no imperfections would have been nigh on impossible, and the shear planes in this one turned parts of the picture upside down and did even worse things to other bits, but it was clear that he was observing the Author. The representation of Mr. Big was remarkably accurate.
He leaned back in his chair and calmly flicked the power switch on the orb to the ‘off’ position. With an audible ‘eeeooowww…’ the flow of MP into the materia cut out, and the picture faded from view. The man stood up for a few seconds and stretched, practically every joint in his body cracking loudly, before sitting down once more. Observing someone from this distance away required phenomenal amounts of mental energy, and it was clear - from the empty two-litre bottles labelled ‘ether’ casually discarded on the floor - that he had been going through it at a rate of knots.
“It’s been some time, Author,” he mused aloud. “Nice to see you accepted my invitation. A shame that these other fools will be in the way to spoil the fun, though. I’d been hoping it would be just you and me, but sadly it appears I shall have to deal with the others as well.”
It should be pointed out, in case the reader was wondering, that there was no one else in the room with this man. He was not talking to anyone in particular. It was just that he knew the laws of literature as well as, if not perhaps better than even the Author himself, and was forced to comply with them. After all, every mysterious villain shrouded in secrecy has to rant and rave out loud for the benefit of the readers, does he not? Indeed, it is practically unacceptable for any one of his scenes to go by without some hideous plot twist being revealed. And this man knew these things only too well. For he was a prize-winning, critically acclaimed, best-selling author, but more to the point, he was an ex-Writer. His name was Fishook Grysley. Yes, indeed, this man was the enigmatic ‘FG.’
“It is so pleasant to see you getting close to the girl,” he continued. “That, I will admit, is something I had never foreseen. But it works so well in my favour. You see, Author, I had two objectives when I sent that letter. The first, of course, was to attract you here. But the second was to save her life and get her out of this miserable story. And you so conveniently provide the way.” He cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and let out a particularly manic laugh. “Oh, will it not be so amusing when I have to separate you two?”

Darkness. Almost complete silence, broken only by the buzzsaw of Barret’s snoring.
“Tifa…?”
Silence.
“Tifa…?”
Again, silence.
“Tifa?”
“KNOHHHHH… uwee uwee uwee… wha’? Yeah, I’ll give yo’… bean soup, see here…”
Cloud sighed. “Look, Tifa, it wasn’t… I mean, it just… sort of… there wasn’t anything… how can I put this…”
“Just shut up, Cloud.”

Chapter VI	Feather in the Wind (reprise)

I really can’t be bothered to think of a suitable title. Kudos to all who know where the temporary title comes from.
James Chilcott, attrib.
Writing of Wrongs

The sun was just rising over the rooftops as the Author staggered out of the inn and stared blearily around the town square. He was not, by nature, a ‘mornings person,’ and if left to his own devices would quite happily have slept for another three or four hours before waking up. Still, he’d reasoned that if they were following this Sephiroth person, as Cloud and Perigee seemed quite insistent on, it was probably best to see if anyone had caught a glimpse of him, or knew where he was headed or something like that. They almost always had, in practically every situation like this the Author had been in. Readers didn’t like to hear about the heroes ambling around aimlessly. They had to know where they were going, otherwise the plot tended to stagnate.
On his way out of the inn, the receptionist had informed him that he was entitled to a free, collectible ‘plushy,’ whatever they were. Seeing as he hadn’t yet had a chance to put the thing down, and he didn’t have an RPG character’s inherent ability to carry ridiculous numbers of items behind his back, he was holding it in one hand. He brought it up and had a good look at it for the first time. It was sewn together quite well, actually. It seemed to be a model of an attractive enough young woman with - for some unknown reason - sky blue hair, shrouded in a dark purple robe. He held it up to the morning sunlight, and an exquisitely crafted medallion on her chest caught the light with the traditional ‘ting’ effect. He smiled. This really was a quality product, actually. Perhaps he’d try and get the complete set together while he was stuck in this story. It was always nice to have a hobby.
There was a small label stuck to the sole of her right foot. The text on it had worn off a bit, though. Sala…? Sara…? Something like that. It probably wasn’t too important.
Unsurprisingly, there weren’t that many people up at this hour. Working on the principle that you had to start somewhere, the Author picked a person at random and wandered over to him.
“Excuse me -” he began.
The man, an elderly gentleman of maybe fifty or sixty with a really remarkably rectangular moustache, rounded irritably on him.
“Eh? What what what? Oh, it’s you. How’ve you been?”
“Um… fine?” The Author shrugged and decided he might as well play along. “How long’s it been since I saw you…? Must be at least -”
“What in the blazes are you on about? I haven’t seen you before in my life!”
“Oh, right. Sorry, I must be mistaking you for someone else.”
“So you must, young whippersnapper. The name’s Wooster. Tom Wooster. Who are you?”
“I’m… just call me Author. Anyway, I just wanted -”
“Author? What sort of daft name do you call that, then? Speak up!”
The Author could tell that he was going to lose this conversation if he wasn’t careful.
“Look, it’s not that important, really,” he explained reasonably.
“What?”
“It’s not that important.”
“What?”
“Oh, never mind.” The Author sighed. “I’m just trying to -”
“Don’t whisper, dear boy! Speak up!”
“I’m trying to find out if anyone’s seen a man in a black cloak around here! Would you -”
“Oh, him. Yes, yes. He came through here yesterday, don’t you know. Didn’t like him one bit. Wouldn’t even stop to have a drink.”
“Yes, that sounds like him. You didn’t happen to ask him where he was going, did you?”
“Couldn’t help but find out! He just wandered into this square, walked round in circles a few times, and headed off again, muttering so loudly I’d say the whole town heard! Damn inconvenient if you ask me.”
“Yes, yes, indeed.” The Author felt he’d better press this point. “What exactly was he muttering?”
“Inquisitive little devil, aren’t you? Let’s see, now…” The man dug one hand into his trouser pocket and produced a tattered piece of paper.
“You wrote it down?”
“Weeell, you never know, do you? Someone like that’s got to have enemies, right? So I thought I’d be ready for when they came round. You are the enemies, aren’t you?”
“Yes, no worries about that.”
“Good.” The gentleman cleared his throat. “He said, and I quote, ‘Four pints milk, half dozen eggs, loaf of bread…’ Oh, terribly sorry, wrong side. He said, ‘I really can’t spend too long around here, I’ve got to get across that damn swamp by sunset so I can make it to Junon before the weekly cargo ferry leaves.’”
“He really said that?”
“Oh, yes.” The man nodded vigorously. “You don’t doubt the sincerity of these ears, do you?”
The Author gave the ears in question a penetrating glare.
“How could I doubt such trustworthy ears?” he said eventually. “It just came as something of a surprise that he would have said so much. Almost as if he was expecting us to follow him.”
Still, he mused, that was what happened if you delved too deep into the workings of literature. It made sense that someone would have overheard the bad guy mention where he was going to go, at least on the surface, because then the heroes knew where they were supposed to be heading. If you enquired why he’d mentioned it, well… you generally found out.
“Thanks for your time,” he called over his shoulder, turning away and almost walking straight into an attractive young woman. In his still only semi-awake state, it took the Author several seconds to realise that it was Ess.
“Oh, hi,” he said cheerily. “Sleep well?”
Ess gave him a half-hearted smile. “Yeah,” she replied simply.
The Author nodded pleasantly. “Glad to hear it. So…” He hesitated. “You’re coming with us, I assume?”
“What?”
“I guess you’re going to be joining the group now,” the Author reiterated. “You are an agent, aren’t you?”
“Oh, yes, I suppose so. But that was some time ago…”
“Five years?” The Author was incredulous. “You think five years is a long time?”
Ess glared at him. “Perhaps I should say that I don’t really feel like being an agent any more, okay?”
“Oh, right. Sorry. I was being a bit tactless there.”
Ess said nothing. Somehow, the Author got the impression that she was actually saying nothing, rather than merely not saying anything.
“Anyway,” he continued, desperately trying to save this particular sinking ship, “I’d have thought you’d be pleased to see the team once more. From what I can ascertain, the plot seems to be really getting going now, so I’d expect the others to turn up as well.”
“Yeah, I guess so. We do have a mission here, and all that.” She shrugged. “I was going to tell them I’d be tagging along before I met you, anyway. Roch’s just getting himself ready.”
“You’re bringing the boy?”
“Well, I can’t just leave him here, can I?”
“I suppose not, but…” The Author did a few quick mental calculations. “How old is he? Five?”
“Four. He’s matured remarkably quickly, though.”
The Author nodded sagely. Weird things could happen, he guessed, if agents and Gamers or Earthians started mixing.
“Well, I won’t argue either way,” he said resignedly. “I’ve been asking around, and apparently our quarry’s been heading towards a nearby swamp.”
Ess nodded. “I know the one. A few hours’ walk to the east.”
“Really? Any monsters?”
“One in particular, yes. The swamp’s inhabited by a huge serpent - they call it the Midgar Zolom. It’s not really safe to walk across.”
The Author smiled. Big monsters were good news - they meant lots of experience, and hopefully a skill point or two to boot. He was looking forward to trying all sorts of new abilities as the plot progressed.
“Let’s go wake the others, shall we?”

The journey east from Kalm was actually rather pleasant. Not a single monster attacked the party, a happy occurrence which most of them reckoned was probably due to their reluctance to attack large groups. Only Perigee knew the truth: it was simply because the game’s engine couldn’t handle battles with more than three characters, so it had to work round that. He should have realised earlier, although this did lead to some interesting theories as to what would happen when they reached a plot battle. Perhaps under those circumstances reality would have to sidestep the rules of the game or something, in order to keep with the storyline. Such things would give him plenty to think about after this was all over, but for the moment he was just trying not to concern himself about it too much.
“You know,” Mr. Big commented as they walked, raising his sunglasses above his eyes to get a better look, “either that large murky yellow patch up ahead is some kind of weird optical illusion, or we’re getting close to that swamp you mentioned earlier.”
Perigee nodded knowledgably. “We’re going to have to cross it to get to Junon,” he replied. “You can’t get across by foot, though. We should stop off and pick up some chocobos before we try.”
Mr. Big raised an eyebrow.
“While we all appreciate the sentiment, maybe this isn’t the best time to be buying gifts for the ladies,” he observed drily. “Later, perhaps.”
The Author tapped him on one ear.
“A chocobo is a bird people ride around on,” he pointed out. “I don’t think you’ve got the right idea here.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“So… not edible in any way? Not a tasty treat?”
“No.”
“Bugger that.”
“How’d we get one o’ those chocobo things, then?” Barret asked. Perigee pointed at a small farm, perhaps four or five hundred yards away now.
“There’s a… I mean, I’ve heard there’s a farm nearby that rents out chocobos,” he explained. “If necessary, we can always buy a lure and catch some ourselves. That might take an hour or so, though, so it’s best if we didn’t need to.”
“Then what?” Tifa enquired. Since she’d come to Midgar three or four years ago, she’d never left the city, and didn’t really know the surrounding countryside. “Where do we go from there?”
“Well…” Perigee began ticking points off on his fingers. “There’s a cave through the mountain range, then maybe two, three hours walk west, assuming we don’t run into too many enemies. Might be one or two small woodlands we’ll have to pass through, but nothing too bad. Then we get to Junon.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s this way,” said Cloud uncertainly.
“You’ve been saying that for the last half hour,” Nanaki pointed out. “My opinion is that you’re completely lost.”
“I’m not lost!” Cloud objected. “I just don’t know where we are, that’s all.”
“We should have taken a left at that last cavern,” Perigee mused absent-mindedly. The frustration of being temporarily misplaced beginning to coalesce into anger, Cloud rounded on him.
“And what makes you an expert on these things?” he snapped. “Are you suddenly a geomancer or something?”
Perigee shook his head emphatically. “No, I’m a chemist. What do I look like?”
“So how do you know these caves?”
“I’ve been around here several times. Mythril is a very useful material to conduct experiments on. It’s got twice the ionic potential of normal metals, you know.”
“Oh.” Cloud wilted visibly. “Okay. Everyone, back the other way.”
“Shall I lead?” Perigee suggested as, with much assorted grumbling, the group about-faced. Cloud nodded.
Perhaps a minute or so later they arrived in yet another cavern. This one was different from the others, though, in that, through one of the exits, daylight was clearly visible.
“Hey, what’s the music?” Wedge enquired. “It’s kinda catchy.”
Perigee groaned. Echoing throughout the chamber was a loud yet simple drum riff, one that he recognised almost instantly. But… wasn’t it just BGM?
It didn’t come as much of a surprise when a navy-suited man ambled unhurriedly into the cavern, although it wasn’t who he expected. Shouldn’t it be… oh, yes. They’d taken Tseng out in the motorcycle chase.
“Well, look who we have here,” Reno observed flatly, barely making himself heard above the noise. “It’s a good thing for…”
“Yo, speak up!” Barret shouted. “I can’t understan’ a damn word you’re sayin’!”
Reno sighed, leaned down and messed around with a small personal stereo hidden in one corner. Gradually, the volume of the music decreased.
“Is that better?”
“Yeah, damn right it is!”
“Good.” Reno cleared his throat, and tried again. “Well, look who we have here. It’s a good thing for you that you’re no longer our priority, otherwise I’m afraid you wouldn’t be leaving this cave.”
“Rather sure of yourself, aren’t you?” Tifa called. “You’re outnumbered quite considerably!”
Reno grinned, and produced a long black rod from within his jacket. “I’ve got a new weapon, you see,” he explained. “It’s the ‘Shinra Electro-mag Rod Mk. VI.’ It does all sorts of new things.”
“Yeah? Like wha’?”
“Um… It can pick up AM and FM radio. And it can toast a slice of bread in under ten seconds!”
“Sounds pretty useful to me,” Mr. Big remarked. “Not in battle, but useful nonetheless. Where can you get those things?”
“So what is your priority now?” Jessie asked.
“Sephiroth,” Reno explained, glad that someone had picked up on his cue. “We’ve got to follow him and find out what he’s doing. He’s on his way to Junon, in case you hadn’t heard.”
“Should you really be telling us that?” Perigee pointed out.
“Well, no, not really. But I figured, Tseng isn’t around to tell us what to do, so what the hell. It’s always nice to have some company on a long journey. I’ll see you there, shall I?”
“Hey! Reno!” a young female voice shouted from outside the cave. “Are you -”
“Yeah, coming, Elena!” Reno replied. He bent down to pick up his hi-fi, flashed the group a Mr. Big-esque grin, and left.
“Well,” said the Author in the silence that followed, “that was a pointless little scene.”

The door to the first-class medical area, on the fifty-seventh floor of the Shinra HQ, slid soundlessly open and I, Caroussis strode in. The nurse currently supervising the only patient at the moment looked up, then tried desperately to hide the expression of surprise on her face when she saw who it was. Caroussis’ disdain for his colleagues - for everyone, really - was almost legendary. What on earth was he doing here?
He walked straight up to her and nodded.
“How is he?” he enquired.
“Um… well, he’s got several breaks, and cuts and bruises, obviously, but…”
“Get to the point,” Carousiss snapped. “Is he capable of coherent thought? How much longer will it be before he can resume his duties?”
“Er, I… I mean, he…” the nurse stammered, secretly relieved. Now that was more like the Director of Finance she’d heard of. “Yes, his mind seems fine. He was very lucky in that crash. And,” she continued hastily, noticing Caroussis glance impatiently at his watch, “I’d say he’ll be back on his feet in a week or so. We’re doing what we can with cure spells, but some things will need time.”
“Very good. You may leave us.”
“W-what?”
“I, has confidential and urgent business to conduct with Mr. Tseng. It does not concern you. You may wait in the staff lounge until I, comes to get you.”
“Y-yes, of course, sir.”
The unfortunate girl scurried out, and I, advanced towards Tseng. The Turk’s eyes focused slowly on him, and he sat up stiffly in bed. “What are you doing here, Caroussis?”
I, stopped a few feet away and leaned up against the wall. “I, trusts you are well?”
“Don’t bother with the small talk.” Tseng smiled weakly. “I know you didn’t come here to see how I am.”
“A most astute observation. I, has no personal cares about your condition. He does, however, have a business proposition for you.”
“Can’t it wait ‘til -”
“No, it cannot.” Caroussis walked over to the bed and knelt down beside it so he was staring directly into Tseng’s eyes. He was taking a risk here, he knew it. A calculated risk, maybe, but still a risk. The five of the Author’s group had discussed their plan of action extensively before they’d entered the world, but the Turks had not featured in it. Still, Caroussis could recognise usefulness in a person when he saw it.
“I, is about to reveal certain information to you, Mr. Tseng. Highly confidential information which he does not wish this company to learn of. Therefore, before I, informs you, he is to invoke your honour as a Turk. Should you decide to turn down his offer, you will keep this information to yourself, regardless of the implications.”
Tseng watched him, thoroughly confused but intrigued. If there was more to this guy than met the eye - and if anyone could completely hide their true self, he would have thought Caroussis would be the one - then he wanted to know.
“You have my word,” he replied. “This shall remain between us.”
“I, is sincerely grateful.” I, smiled. “Listen carefully, for I, shall not repeat this.”

Somewhere between the Mythril Mines and the port city of Junon, AVALANCHE and associates were making good progress, and looked as if they’d reach Junon some time in the mid-afternoon. By this stage the group had spread out considerably, although that could simply have been because Mr. Big had started singing and no one else wanted to stay near him. It wasn’t that he was a bad singer - in fact, his pitch was pretty good, especially for a rabbit - it was just that he’d chosen an incredibly annoying tune, and was accompanying it with incredibly annoying lyrics.
“We’re on the road to Junon city,” he was singing cheerfully. “Yeah, this trip be real nice…”
“We on da road, on da road,” Barret agreed, joining in without really thinking. Wedge, who was waddling along beside him, gave him a rather worried look and slowed his pace until he was a suitable distance behind. Perigee, who’d had this idea beforehand, nodded understandingly and shrugged.
“It’s not so bad back here,” he said. “You can’t hear much.”
Wedge looked apprehensively into the dark woods that flanked the path on either side. “I’d feel kind of nervous about travelling through this sort of place usually, but the monsters seem to have enough sense to keep well away,” he said.
“They’ve got better hearing than we do,” commented Perigee dryly.
“We’re on the road to Junon city,” Mr. Big repeated, a couple of dozen yards ahead. “Got materia an’ ready to fight, innit!”
The Author gave him a thoughtful look, stuck one hand into one of his pockets and began rooting around. After a couple of seconds he produced a small red and white sphere, about the size of a snooker ball. There was a thin groove all the way round it, and the letter ‘P’ was inscribed into it.
“Gotta get there,” Barret mumbled, slightly louder than before. “On our way… Gotta get there…”
There was a slight pause, before the two of them shouted in perfect synchronisation, “JUNON CITY, YEAH!” Well, they started in perfect synchronisation. Mr. Big only got as far as, “JUNON CI-” before there was a flash of light, and he disappeared.
“Hey!” said a somewhat muffled voice from the ball the Author now held in one hand, smiling faintly. “What happened there? Where’d the light go?”
The Author rapped a fist on it. “I never throw useful things away, remember?”
“Alright, you’ve made your point. Now let me out.”
The Author took the ball in both hands and twisted sharply. With another brief flash, Mr. Big reappeared on his shoulder, looking rather ruffled. He smoothed down his fur with both ears and tried not to look too bothered.
“Yo,” Barret called over, “wha’ is that thing?”
The Author smiled knowingly. “It’s called a Pokéball. It’s a disciplinary device for small fluffy animals.” He would have elaborated further, but was interrupted when a lithe girl ran out from behind a tree and jumped on top of him. She recovered much more quickly from the collision than he did, pulling a knife from behind her back and holding it at his throat.
“Now, I know we’re not off to the best start, but I’d like to keep this on a friendly basis,” said the girl loudly, before anyone could react negatively. Upon hearing the assailant’s voice, Ess and Perigee both developed a sudden interest in, respectively, her fingernails and his shoes.
“A friendly basis?” asked Cloud, his sword already drawn. “You ambush us, hold a knife to our friend’s throat, and want to keep things friendly?”
“Well, duh! You guys’ve got like swords and stuff, and I don’t want to get beat up or anything. I’m not here to hurt you, I’m just after your money.”
“So…” said Nanaki carefully. “You’re mugging a group of people who are better armed than you, and hope to avoid their imminent retribution by attempting to remain amiable?”
“Yeah. Look, what’s your name?”
“Nanaki,” said Nanaki.
“Nice to meet ya, Nanaki. I’m Kasuto Gimlar, of Wutai.”
“Greetings, Miss Gimlar. Or would you prefer Kasuto of Wutai?” asked Nanaki, who knew the importance of correct nomenclature.
“Just Kasuto is fine. See, we’re getting along just fine!”
“Well then, Kasuto,” said the Author reasonably. “Seeing as we’re all friends here, do you have any suggestions as to resolve this difficult situation?”
“Umm… well, I’ll let you up if you promise not to hurt me. Then we can sort out the whole mugging thing.”
The others exchanged glances, and the general consensus was that the idea seemed reasonable. Kasuto nodded, and returned her knife to whatever storage place she had behind her back.
 “Uh…” said Barret uncertainly as the Author climbed to his feet.
“Okay,” said Kasuto, rubbing her hands together cheerfully. “Now give me all your Gil.”
“Uh…” said Barret.
Cloud shrugged, and pulled a small bag out from behind his back. It had the single word ‘Bag’ written on the side of it. “Here you go,” he said, handing it over to Kasuto.
“Uh…” said Barret.
“Just out of interest, how much is there in here?” asked Kasuto.
“Oh, a few thousand Gil,” answered Cloud freely.
Mr. Big looked at the bag. “A bag that size, and there’s a few thousand of something in it?”
“This from the rabbit that just fit inside a ball smaller than his own head?” asked Perigee wryly.
Kasuto’s eyes gleamed. “Rabbit?” Then she spied Mr. Big perched on the Author's shoulder.
“Ohhh! You’ve got a bunny rabbit! He’s sooooooo cute!” she exclaimed.
“Oh, dear,” muttered Mr. Big, backing away. He noticed the lack of shoulder somewhat belatedly, and dropped to the ground. Kasuto rushed over and picked him up in a very undignified way. She began to stroke his ears.
“What’s his name? I’ve always wanted a cute little bunny rabbit!”
“My name is Mr. Big. And I am not a bunny!” said Mr. Big, pointedly.
“Oh!? He can talk! Make him do it again!”
“He doesn’t make me do anything. I can do whatever I want.”
“Great! Can you say ‘rabbit,’ Mr. Rabbit?”
Mr. Big raised an eyebrow.
“I can say pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis if you want, miss,” he snapped. Snapping a word of that length is quite an achievement.
“Uh…” said Barret.
“Oh, what is it, Barret?” asked Cloud. “Can’t we just get this whole thing over with?”
“How come… she’s taking our money and we’re not stopping her?” asked Barret slowly.
“Because…” Cloud straightened up, puzzled. “I don’t know, actually. Why aren’t we stopping her?”
Kasuto laughed nervously. “It’s cause we’re friends, remember?”
“I’m not,” muttered Mr. Big.
“That’s good enough for me!” said Barret, flicking the safety catch on his arm. “C’mon, let’s get her!” He fired several shots directly at Kasuto, but she somehow contorted herself so that each bullet barely missed her. Wide-eyed, Mr. Big wriggled out of her grip and shot back to his usual place on the Author’s shoulder.
“You’ll have to do better than that!” Kasuto jeered.
“Fine!” shouted Cloud, now fully caught up with the zeal of battle. He charged forwards, with his sword held high…
“I can’t watch!” cried Tifa, her hands over her eyes.
But once again Kasuto managed to dodge her imminent death.
“How… is she doing that?” asked Aeris.
“Well, there’s really only one way of checking,” said Perigee with a smile. He pulled a yellow materia out of one of his many pockets, thought for a moment, then yelled “FullScan!” at the top of his voice.

Kasuto Gimlar
Age: 13
HP: ????/????
MP: ??/??
Str: 40
Def: 20
Eva: 95%
Mag:30
Spr: 15
Luc: 30%

Likes: Pizza, rabbits, giant mechs.
Dislikes: Not having any pizza, spiders, being ignored.

Current thoughts: “A talking rabbit! ^_^”

“Okaaaaaaay,” said Perigee. “Her evade’s through the roof, but she’s pretty vulnerable to magic, and probably also to any special attacks like Limits that are certain to hit.”
All at the same time, every member of AVALANCHE reached for their materia.
“Whoa, wait a sec!” shouted Kasuto. “This is hardly a fair fight! I mean, there’s like twelve of you!”
“Hmm…” said Cloud. “She’s got a point.”
“Why should it be a fair fight?” asked Jessie. “She is trying to mug us, after all.”
“Yes, but we’re only trying to stop her,” Ess pointed out, “not to reduce her to a smear of… oh, what’s the word…”
“Grease,” prompted the Author.
“Thank you. A smear of grease on the ground,” finished Ess.
“So what’ll it be?” asked Cloud. “A one-on-one duel?”
“Aw, come on. That way you don’t have a chance,” said Kasuto haughtily. “I think three of you versus the one of me should be about the right numbers.”
I was wondering who would be the first to suggest that, thought Perigee.
“Only three of us, hmm?” asked Nanaki rhetorically. “So who’ll it be?”
“Well…” said Cloud, “I guess… me, of course… Ess, and… uh… the Author. The rest of you wait over there.”
“Gotcha.”
“Author?” asked Aeris. “You don’t have any magic materia, do you?”
He paused for a second. “No, don’t think I do. Do you have a spare you could lend me?”
“Sure.” She detached a green materia from her staff and threw it to him. “It’s a Lightning materia, but it’s not very powerful. I don’t think you’ll get more than a Bolt out of it.”
The Author shrugged. “Well, now seems as good a time as any to test this out, doesn't it?” He calmly held the materia up in the air and said, in an only marginally excited voice, “Bolt!”
In the depths of space, light years from the World, a static storm on an ice moon was hauled away from its source by a stray comet and speared out into space…
Travelling as if it had a purpose, as if it knew exactly where it was headed, it crackled past stars, forked round asteroids, until it struck the atmosphere directly above the party.
The entire sky went white, just for a brief moment, before the clouds parted and a solid beam of lightning smashed down into the ground, completely engulfing the would-be thief. Fragments of rock went flying in all directions as the pillar of light dug deep into the ground, then winked out, as if it had never been there.
Kasuto swayed slightly, an expression of surprise on her face, but remained standing. Meanwhile, the Author was grinning as if he’d just discovered the long-lost Prozac materia.
“I think,” he said happily, “that we can class my Special FX materia as a success.”
“Ow…” moaned Kasuto. “So that’s how it’s going to be, huh? Fine!” As a blue tornado of particles funnelled into her from the air, she screamed “Pure Thunder Seal!” She sprinted over to Cloud, waved her arms in three brisk motions, then punched Cloud full in the chest, releasing the remnants of charge from the lightning strike.
“Blue special effects?” observed Perigee. He noticed Roch standing next to him, and hunkered down to his level. “What was that that just happened?” he asked.
“Huh? Oh, she did a Tech. It’s a normal attack that uses magic for more power. They’ve all got silly names, and you have to shout the name to get it to work. Grown-ups have about five Techs, but I’ve only got one, ‘cause I’m just a kid.”
Ess walked over to Kasuto and backhanded her with her frying pan while Cloud provided a distraction by pretending to use a potion.
“Hum,” Perigee said thoughtfully.
“Mine’s called ‘Wind Divide Flare’. Told you all the names are silly.”
Kasuto yelled, “Mug!” and threw a coffee cup at the Author. He brought his arms up to intercept it, but he wasn’t quite fast enough and the thing bounced painfully off his nose.
Almost immediately, bright orange light burst out from him, making a loud whssshing noise. He stared down at himself in surprise, flexing his fingers and marvelling as the light seemed to coalesce in his fists. “Whoa…”
“It’s a limit break,” Perigee explained, hurrying up to him and whispering in his ear. “It happens when you get hit too much. You get to do a nice powerful move now.”
“Oh, right. Sounds good to me.” The Author handed his dictionary to Perigee, who took it without arguing. Mr. Big could see roughly what was going to happen next, and wisely hopped over to the scientist’s shoulder for the time being.
Nothing much seemed to happen.
“Um, you need to say the name of the move before you can do it.” 
“Pummel, then.”
The light winked out, leaving only the Author’s fists glowing as he blurred forwards at Kasuto.
“Right punch left punch power right left knee right jab left uppercut right knee right jab left jab right punch high left kick power left power right KNOCK OUT!” commentated Mr. Big, speaking so fast it was unclear where one word ended and the next began. Kasuto was lifted off the ground and sailed gracefully through the air until her flight was abruptly brought to a halt by an elderly elm. Unsteadily, she picked herself up again and hurried back to the same spot she’d been standing in before. 
The Author stopped and glanced around at the others, returning their amazed stares.
“What?” he asked. “Aren’t I allowed to be good at hand to hand stuff too?”
“This is taking all day,” complained Kasuto. “I’ve had enough. Five!”
“Uh oh,” said Perigee in the sudden silence that followed. “Everybody get under cover!” All the non-combatants scattered, hiding in bushes and behind trees.
“Four!” continued Kasuto.
“What’s going on?” asked the Author.
“Countdown attack,” said Cloud grimly. “Her defences are down, but if we don’t knock her out before she reaches zero then we’ve had it. These things are brutal.”
“Three!”
“Cloud, what about… you know?” suggested Ess, tipping her head to one side.
Cloud snapped his fingers. “Oh yeah! I’d forgotten we had that.”
“Two!”
“Let’s finish this,” said Cloud, his Mako-green eyes glowing slightly.
“One!”
In unison, Cloud and Ess cried out, “Twin Brave Air!”
Several things happened so fast that they will have to be recounted in stop-action prose. Ess hopped into Cloud’s outstretched hands, whereupon he launched her high into the air in a shower of blue sparks. Cloud himself then jumped up after her. The two of them turned three somersaults in unison, and brought out their respective weapons. Then gravity decided to have a say in things, and they both dropped like a wizard-in-training on his transformation into a bird. Halfway to the ground one of the nearby trees kindly decided to catch Cloud in its branches. This left only Ess available to smash her weapon against Kasuto’s head with such force that the ninja was literally driven into the ground.
There was a muffled sound, much like someone trying to say, “Zero” with a mouthful of dirt.

A couple of minutes later, a rescue operation was put into action.
“Could you guys hurry up?” Cloud called down. “Only I think my sword’s going to cut through this branch pretty soon.”
“Can’t you just drop down and we’ll try to catch you?” Tifa suggested. “You’re an awfully long way up, you see, and it’s kinda difficult to reach you up there.”
“Seems the best solution to me,” the Author observed. “I say go for it.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, why not? After all, that way you’re the only one who might get hurt if we mess up.”
“Oh, right. Okay.”
Cloud wrenched his sword downwards, cutting through what was left of the branch with ease. For a very brief moment he seemed to hover in midair, before he plummeted.
No one tried to catch him, and so he landed heavily on Kasuto, who said something incomprehensible into the ground.
“Barret, why didn’t you catch him?” Tifa exclaimed, running over to help the rather shaken Cloud up.
“I thought Wedge was!”
“It’s okay, I’m not hurt too badly,” Cloud interrupted.
“I thought the Author was going to catch him!” Wedge piped up.
“But I’m fine, really.”
“Me?” the Author objected, then glanced around the group and selected someone at random. “I thought Perigee was.”
“I’m okay!”
“I thought…” Perigee began, but decided it was probably time to drop this little game of pass the parcel. “Never mind, he’s down now. What’re we going to do about her?”
“We could start by getting our money back,” proposed the Author.
“Yeah, that sounds good to me,” Barret agreed. He knelt down by Kasuto and grabbed her with both hands. “Someone wanna help me bust her out?”
Maybe thirty seconds and a considerable amount of chaos later, the party succeeded in releasing Kasuto from the earth.
“Well?” Cloud said, holding out his hand.
Kasuto spat dirt at him.
“Fine,” she muttered balefully, producing Cloud’s Bag from about her person and handing it back. “You didn’t have to go and use a Double Tech on me…”
Cloud beamed. “Good, wasn’t it?”
“It hurt,” Kasuto complained.
“That was sorta the point.”
“So, anyway,” Kasuto continued, deciding to let bygones be bygones and cheering up a bit, “what’re you guys going to do now?”
“Oh, we’re chasing a man called Sephiroth who died five years ago,” explained Cloud. “He’s -”
“You don’t have to tell her!” the Author interrupted.
“Why not?”
“Hey, you’re going on a quest?” Kasuto asked, her eyes gleaming. “Like, saving the world and stuff?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, wow! Wouldn’t you just love to have a beautiful young thief along with you? I’ll be really good, I promise! Pleeeaaase?”
“Well…” Cloud was obviously uncertain. “What do you guys think?”
“Um…” said Tifa helpfully.
Ess and Perigee exchanged glances, something which did not escape Roch’s attention.
“I think she could be quite useful to have around,” Perigee pointed out, speaking for both of them. “After all, you never know what rare and powerful items our enemies might be carrying.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Cloud turned to the girl. “Okay, Kasuto, you’re one of us. Come on.”

“So… this is that big city you keep telling us about, is it?” Mr. Big remarked to Perigee as the group entered lower Junon. “It’s a bit of a mess, isn’t it? And not quite as big as I was expecting, either.”
“Look up,” replied Ess simply. Mr. Big did so, then raised his sunglasses above his eyes and did a quick double take.
“Ah,” he said. “Suddenly everything becomes clear.”
“Junon used to be just a fishing town,” Perigee explained to anyone who cared to listen. “Then the Shinra execs decided this location could be very useful as a naval base during the Mako Wars about ten years back, built that separate city up there, and pretty much killed this place. There’s almost no fish around here any more. Follow me - you should take a look at the beach. It’ll certainly make you think.”
“How’d you know so much about all these places?” Barret enquired.
Perigee shrugged. “We chemists get around.”
“Hey, there’s a lift over here!” Cloud exclaimed, heading towards it. “We can all go up to the city above! Isn’t that where the cargo ship leaves from?”
“Yes, but… the beach…” Perigee insisted, but Cloud had already hurtled off with a cry of, “Onwards!”
There were a couple of guards waiting by the lift. One looked up as Cloud approached and gave him a look that said, in no uncertain terms, “Wha’?”
“We’d like to go up, please,” Tifa began.
The guard shook his head. “No one allowed up without a company pass, sorry, miss,” he replied flatly.
“Shall I?” the Author suggested, producing his dictionary as the others joined them, one by one.
“It’s alright,” Cloud told him, then turned back to the guard. “It’s okay, they’re with me.”
“And you are?”
“Cloud Strife, SOLDIER, first class.”
“You? Don’t be daft! They’d never allow a -”
“Note the eyes,” said Cloud simply.
The guard stared at him. “Oh, yes, sorry, right, sir,” he stammered. “I’ll call the lift down right away, sir!” He glanced over as Aeris came hurrying up. “She one of you as well, sir?”
“Uh… yeah…” replied Cloud, who hadn’t noticed that Aeris’ eyes glowed faintly as well.
Perigee stood alone in the middle of the town. But… if they didn’t head over to the beach, then didn’t that mean that girl… what’s her name… Priscilla, that was it… didn’t that mean she’d get beaten up by the… flying…
“Aren’t you supposed to be playing with the dolphin?” he snapped venomously as the girl in question walked past him. She shook her head and gave him a reproachful look.
“There haven’t been any dolphins around here for years, silly!” she replied. “They all went somewhere where it’s nicer for them.”
Perigee sighed. This deviation was worse than he’d anticipated.
“You wouldn’t care to give me that Shiva materia your mother left you, would you?” he asked, deciding that anything was worth a try.
The girl’s expression switched instantly from playful innocence to distrust. “Daddy says I shouldn’t talk to strange travellers,” she said, backing off, then turned and ran off towards a house on the other side of the village. “Goodbye!”
Perigee sighed, and wandered resignedly over to join the others at the lift. There went one of the summons. Shame, really. Still - he dug one hand into one of the pockets of his lab coat, just to make sure it was still there - at least he’d picked up the Choco/Mog summon at the farm. You never knew when you’d need these things.

Special Agent Warbling Croft, Shinra Intelligence Division 4, wandered down the ramp leading from the airship ‘Highwind’s main entrance hatch to the runway below. About halfway down he realised he’d forgotten his suitcase, and hurried back up to fetch it.
He re-emerged a few seconds later, hauling the thing after him.
“Well, thanks for bringing me here,” he said to the airship’s captain, a scruffily dressed pilot who - Croft assumed - was named after his ship. “I guess you’ll want to be off now, won’t you?”
Cid Highwind shook his head. “Nah, I’ve got business to attend to here. Heard the new President’s flown in for a parade later today. I’m gonna try and talk to him about the Space Program.”
“There’s a space program?” Croft enquired as they left the airship in the more or less capable hands of its crew and headed towards Junon High Street.
“Don’t you… actually, you’re probably too young to remember it, aren’t you?”
“Guess so,” said Croft placidly. He was 27, which he’d never thought was too young.
“A while back the old guy was thinkin’ about explorin’ space, to see if there was anythin’ out there that he could make a profit from, I guess. Then they learned about bloody Mako, and the project was shelved. I’m gonna see if his son -”
“Rufus,” Croft put in helpfully.
“Yeah, him. I want to see if I can get him to start it up again.” Cid shrugged. “Worth a go. So what’re you here for?”
“I think I’m an undercover spy,” Croft explained. “They haven’t really made things that clear to me yet. I’m being posted to the Gold Saucer.”
“Lucky. Spyin’ on who?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea. Whoever comes along, I guess. Is the Gold Saucer a good place to find terrorists?”
Cid shrugged again. “Con artists, maybe. Still, I reckon you shouldn’t find it too difficult to have a good time.” He gave the agent a long stare. Croft was no bishonen, but he wasn’t ugly either. “I’ll bet you can find yourself a decent chick in a few days, too. Enjoy yourself.”
“I will, thanks.” Croft gave him an amiable nod. “Good luck with your space program.”
“Cheers.”

Maybe half a minute or so later, the lift from the lower city (as it was rather patronisingly named) arrived, creaking loudly and finally stopping with a deafening CLANG. The doors slid open, and out tumbled a grand total of six guys, five girls, and three animals.
“Well, that was one experience I hope we never have to repeat,” the Author commented. Mr. Big, who’d spent the entire ride in very close proximity to Tifa, kept silent. “I mean, it was a nice idea and all that, pretending to be a SOLDIER to get us up here, but it did say when we got in that that lift’s only meant to take three people at once, so…”
“Aw, stop whinin’!” Barret snapped at him. “It got us all up here, didn’t it? C’mon, I say we go have a look around!”
He charged off, presumably following the sign to ‘Junon High Street,’ closely followed by the rest of the group. Well, most of the group. The Author didn’t seem to notice him leave, and simply stood still, seemingly deep in thought.
“Uh… Author?” Mr. Big pointed out. “Everyone is going without you.”
“Wait a sec,” the Author replied absently. “Did that descriptive bit up there just say three animals?”
“You’re veering out of character again,” Mr. Big muttered in his ear. “Stay in the book. No one else knows about the other side of things, remember?”
“Oh, yeah. But… three? That’s got to be a typo. I mean, we’ve got you and Nanaki, but unless whoever’s writing this is being a bit harsh on Barret, that’s still only two. And… ah.”
He reached down and grabbed Gopher by the scruff of his neck.
“And what do you think you’re doing here?” he enquired.
“Haven’t the foggiesht!” Gopher replied cheerfully. “Got losht a while back. I’m not meant t’be in the book, y’know.”
“I figured. So why are you?”
Gopher shrugged.
“Would y’mind puttin’ me down?” he asked. “It’s kinda hard t’breathe up here, y’know.”
The Author deposited him on the ground. “Look, just stay out of the plot, will you? Things look like they’re going to get complicated enough without you.”
“Whatever y’shay, shonny.” Gopher nodded amiably to him. “Y’won’t even know I’m here. Bye now.”
He turned his back on them and waddled off into the lift. Unfortunately, it had gone back down again by this stage and so he disappeared into the shaft with a drawn-out, “Waaaaaaaahhh…”
Mr. Big and the Author exchanged worried glances.
“What’s he doing here?” Mr. Big broke the silence eventually. “Wasn’t he from that children’s cartoon we did a while back?”
The Author nodded. “Plot holes, perhaps,” he mused. “The storyline must be really under stress if we’re getting characters turning up from the wrong plots. That’s not promising.”
“You think we should tell Perigee?”
“Hmm… no, I think not. He’s got enough on his mind without knowing about this.”
“Perhaps if we ignore it it’ll all go away,” Mr. Big suggested.
“If only.”

Warbling Croft had to admit he wasn’t really sure where he was meant to be going. Apparently the company had arranged a private boat for him at the docks - Reno had reported that AVALANCHE would almost definitely be arriving at Junon in time to catch the cargo ship, and Croft needed to get to the Gold Saucer before they did to set himself up - but he hadn’t the faintest idea exactly what the docks looked like, where they were, or how to get to them. Thus, he’d decided that the best course of action was to wander around looking lost and hope that someone took pity on him.
He couldn’t help but wonder why the main street was deserted. After all, this was quite an impressively big city. There should be people around. But this silence was almost… eerie. It was… anticipatory, that was the word. As if the whole city was waiting for something to happen.
“Hey, you!”
Croft turned, a smile of relief on his face, to see a smartly dressed Shinra officer - he recognised the uniform as that of a lieutenant - hurrying towards him.
“What do you think you’re doing?” the man continued. “Come on! It’s going to start in a minute or so, and you lot’re all over the place! Hurry up! Follow me and get changed!”
He turned and rushed off. Figuring that there wasn’t really much better to do right now, Croft followed, dragging his suitcase after him.
“So… what’s going on?” he enquired amiably, matching the soldier’s pace.
“The parade, you fool! You’re all meant to be in uniform and ready to march! They’ll have my head if my squad isn’t ready! Hurry up!”
Croft opened his mouth to protest that he wasn’t part of the man’s squad, then rethought it. He had two courses of action here. He could either stand around and watch whatever this parade was, which wouldn’t be particularly productive, or he could join in, have a good time and ask some of the other soldiers if they knew where the dock was.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It won’t happen again.”
The lieutenant barrelled down a side alley and ducked into a small room a few doors down. Croft entered demurely a few seconds later.
There were already quite a few soldiers getting ready… rather more than the room could strictly hold, in fact. Several of them were wearing uniforms that didn’t fit all that well. In particular, one guy was wearing a uniform that seemed to have been designed for someone half his size, while another ‘soldier’ was only about four foot tall.
“But damnit, I’m not one of yo’ soldiers!” one of them was saying to the lieutenant as Croft entered. “Do I look like it? Well?”
“Oh, be quiet,” replied another. “This looks like fun.”
“You can’t get out of it now with an excuse that feeble,” the lieutenant snapped. “We’re late! Come on, you, get changed!”
A few of the other soldiers looked up to see who the new arrival was. Most looked away almost immediately, not recognising him and thus unbothered, but one froze once he saw who it was.
“Cr-” he began, before realising that it wouldn’t do to let on to the others that he knew this newcomer.
“I still like the sound of this meeting the President business afterwards,” one of the soldiers was saying in a female voice from the other side of the room. “Do we get told what to do or are we meant to make up our own moves?”
“I think everything’s choreographed beforehand,” another explained. “Otherwise it’ll look like a bit of a mess.”
“It’s gonna look like a mess anyway,” said a lone helmet, resting on the table in one corner. “I say we do whatever comes naturally and -”
“No way,” interrupted yet another soldier. “We’ve got to do this properly.”
“That’s the spirit!” the lieutenant exclaimed, choosing not to have heard the rest of the discussion. “We’re going to…” His voice trailed off as a loud, only marginally discordant fanfare began to play from outside. “Oh, no. They’re starting! Come on, everyone! Hurry!”

The drum beat began.
“Okay, everyone, you know what to do!” the lieutenant shouted at his ‘men.’ “March in time, and raise your rifles on the beat!”
“Aw, boring!” complained one of the small soldiers. “Can’t we do anything fun?”
“No! Definitely not!” The officer shook his head vigorously. “This is no laughing matter! I want you to take this deadly serious!”
“Seriously,” the Author corrected him absently.
Almost - but not quite - in time with each other, an interesting-sounding cacophony of assorted brass instruments started blaring from the head of the parade. At roughly the same time, the front few ranks of soldiers fell into step, and the column erratically moved off.
“Left, right, left, right, rifles up, down, left, right,” Perigee called, doing his best to keep the others in time. He groaned as they all raised their guns at different, wrong times, and Barret managed to fire his accidentally.
“What? What was that?” enquired a helmet jumpily as it waddled along at the rear of the column, attracting quite a number of confused stares from spectators. “Did someone shoot something? Who? Where? Why can’t they make these things easier to see out of?”
“Look out, coming through, ‘scuse me,” the Author announced, elbowing his way through the troops until he fell into step at the other side of the procession alongside Croft.
“I ask this purely out of interest, you understand,” he said, trying to strike a balance between being completely drowned out by the discordant band and getting the entire parade to hear him, “but what exactly are you doing here?”
“I’m on my way to the Gold Saucer,” Croft explained. “I think I’m meant to be spying on you there.”
“Good.” The Author nodded thoughtfully. “That’ll be your opportunity to join up with us.”
“Yay!” Croft looked around him to make sure he hadn’t attracted too much attention with that little exclamation. “Have you found the team yet?”
“Sadly so.” The Author pointed over to where Perigee was trying to stay sufficiently ahead of Roch to avoid having his heels stepped on. “You remember how Alpha team was always the best, followed by Beta and so on?”
“Um… no, but yes?”
“Well, they’re Phi team.”
Croft put on a confused expression, which considering the Shinra helmet completely hid his face from view was something of a waste of time. “Is that good or bad?”
“Well, we were Omega team. That puts them three places above us.”
“Oh dear.”
“Exactly.” The Author sighed. “To make matters worse, their leader’s played an intertwined game and wants to try and keep the plot as close to the version he knows as possible.”
Croft shook his head sadly. “I take it that’s a bad thing, then?”
“Most certainly. Fiction is about uncertainty. A book would be dire if the reader knew exactly what was going to happen.” He smiled wryly. “Much better if the reader thinks he or she knows what’s going to happen.”
“So what’re the others like?” Warbling asked. “The characters who’re meant to be here.”
“They’ve certainly got the right sort of personalities for this type of storyline,” the Author replied. “They’re generally rather extreme. We’ve got a standard hero with a vendetta with the main villain, a shy heroine with a crush on him, a violent foo’ for comic relief… Nothing out of the ordinary, really.”
“What about… um…” Croft thought back to FG’s letter. “Aeris and Sephiroth? Have you met either of them yet?”
The Author nodded. “Aeris, yes. Very nice girl. We haven’t seen Sephiroth in person yet, although I’m fairly certain we have been pretty close to him at times. We’re in… um…” he skimmed hurriedly back to the start of the chapter, “chapter six, so I’d expect the first confrontation to be pretty soon.”
“Oh, okay.” Croft almost walked straight into the soldier in front of him as the column came to an abrupt halt. “Um… what’s going on?”
The Author peered forward. “I can’t see anything,” he observed. “I wonder if something’s happened up ahead.” He glanced over to the other side of the column. “I guess I’d better head back in case something happens.”
“What’s up?” he asked Perigee, hastily making his way back to where he should have been the whole time. “Why’ve we all stopped?”
“This is where the parade ends,” the scientist whispered. “On three, raise your rifle and fire, okay?”
“Right.”
In near perfect synchronisation, every soldier hefted their weapons above their shoulders. The crack of several hundred guns being unloaded into the air reverberated around the street for a few seconds as the band struck the final chord, and the effect was only partially spoiled by the cry of pain as Croft expertly and accurately shot himself in the foot.
“Stand to attention, troops!” came the cry from the officers, being gradually relayed down the column. “The President has announced that he will allow one squad to demonstrate to him the skills learned in the Shinra army! Remain in your places until he decides who!”
“I wonder who he’s going to pick…” muttered Perigee sarcastically.

“Alright, men!” announced the lieutenant, his chest puffed out so far from pride at being picked by the president that it was a wonder he could stay upright. “We’re going to do this well, and we’re going to do this right! We could all be promoted if the President is impressed!”
This comment did not get the expected reaction.
“I ain’t gonna be no Shinra captain!” Barret objected.
“I think I rank above a captain anyway,” wondered Croft, now capable of speech once more after a helpful soldier had cast a few Cure spells on his foot.
“We could rise through the ranks and bring the company down from the inside,” Jessie suggested.
“You could all be given a bonus!” the lieutenant tried again, and continued without waiting to hear their opinions. “Now, let me explain what to do. We have to make sure we do everything in synchronisation, so everyone do what I say, when I say, and we’ll get commended, okay?”
There was a general muttering of consent, although the officer could have sworn that someone was going, “Rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb.”
“When I shout, ‘Square,’ you will raise your rifles. When I shout, ‘Circle,’ you shoulder your rifles. When I shout, ‘Triangle,’ you rest the barrel of your weapon on the ground. When I shout, ‘Cross,’ you discharge your rifles into the air and reload. Understood?”
“What if we’re resting our barrels on the ground and you tell us to fire?” put in one particularly pedantic soldier. One of the female ones giggled.
“When I shout, ‘Left,’ or, ‘Right,’“ the lieutenant went on, ignoring him, “you turn ninety degrees in the appropriate direction. Now, do I need to repeat that?”
“It might be wise,” Perigee suggested.
“When I shout -”
“It’s okay, we’ve got it,” the Author cut him off, unable to face the explanation again. “Why the silly code, though?”
“Why… the… huh?”
“Don’t object,” Perigee muttered. “It’s a game thing.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“So how much longer must we hafta wait?” Barret complained. “Let’s get this outta da way!”
“The President will be along when he has finished surveying the less privileged troops,” the officer said proudly.
“Well, I’m bored.”
“Oh, look,” the Author said flatly without looking round, a couple of seconds before Rufus appeared from a side alley, “here comes the President right now.”
“How did you do that?” Perigee whispered to him as the President wandered up to them, followed closely by Heidegger. The Author shrugged modestly.
“It’s a subtle way of rewriting the book,” he explained. “Someone sees the President coming, so therefore he must actually be coming. If you follow my reasoning.”
“…sorta.”
“Very well then, lieutenant,” Rufus said, standing beside the officer and folding his arms in front of him. “Show me how good your men are.”
“Right, sir!” The lieutenant took a deep breath and bellowed at the top of his voice, “SQUARE!”
About half the assembled troops successfully raised their weapons as expected. There were quite a few who circled or triangled rather than squaring, and Mr. Big was forced to hop a few times, for lack of rifle.
“CROSS!”
Most of the guns were fired into the air, with the exception of Wedge, who turned a quarter turn to his right, and Croft, who shot himself in the foot again.
“D-PAD LEFT!”
Everyone got this one right.
This charade continued for maybe twenty-five, thirty motions, by the end of which everyone was standing in a completely different pose. It was unclear whether Rufus’ expression was tending more towards amusement, confusion or horrified amazement.
“And… FACE FRONT, FINISHING MOVE!”
“Wha…?”
“I’m sorry?”
“What’s a finishing move?”
“You strike a victorious pose!” the officer told them with only a very mild air of desperation. This turned out to be a grave mistake, as everyone had different ideas of what constituted a victorious pose. To give but a few examples: Cloud took his rifle in one hand and spun it above his head, Kasuto leaped happily several times into the air and made a V sign with both hands, and Croft bowed so extravagantly that his helmet fell off.
“Er…” said Rufus eventually, when Heidegger elbowed him none too gently in the side. “Yes. Very impressive, everyone.” Then, with rather more certainty, he added, “I’ve never seen anything quite like that.”
“You’re meant to give them a bonus or something, sir,” Heidegger muttered.
“Really?”
“Yes, sir. It’s good for morale.”
“Oh, right.” Rufus looked uncertainly around him for some appropriate reward, then brightened up as an idea struck him. “I have here this one-of-a-kind, extremely valuable, collectable soft toy.”
“Wonderful,” muttered Perigee darkly.
“Why can’t we get a special weapon or something?” Cloud complained. “Not some pointless plushy.”
“It’s not a Sara plushy, is it?” enquired the Author suspiciously.
“A what? Oh, you mean a Schala plushy,” Rufus corrected him knowledgeably. He had been quite into these things when he was younger. “No, unfortunately not… Why, do you have a Schala?”
The Author nodded. “That’s the only one I’ve got.”
“Wow!” Rufus was obviously impressed. “Do you realise how rare that one is?
“As rare as the one you’re about to give me?” the Author suggested.
“Well, um, yeah…” Rufus leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially in his ear, “There’re a few really rare ones around. Apparently they only did production runs of three or four each, and I heard rumours that there are some literally unique ones. You know we got the technology to make these by studying Cetra artefacts? Well, I’m pretty certain there are more Ancient plushies out there somewhere.” He straightened up and tried to look a tad more Presidential. “Not that I’m into this stuff, mind you.”
“Of course not. So what’s this one?”
Rufus reached behind his back, produced the plushy in question, and handed it to the Author, who inspected it closely. It appeared to be a replica of a man… sort of. He was wearing some kind of red cloak that shrouded most of him from view, but instead of the normal two arms, this man had four on each side. In every hand he held a different weapon, ranging from a tiny dagger to an immense battleaxe. The Author tested the edge of one with his finger. Those were really sharp.
“Gilgamesh,” said Rufus proudly. “Took me ages to track that one down.”
“Sir, such generosity!” Heidegger remarked. “You are truly magnanimous!”
“Yeah, whatever,” Cloud muttered under his breath.
“Well, I can’t stand around here talking to the troops, I’m afraid,” Rufus announced. “The duties of Presidency are truly great. Heidegger, how long do we have before the ship leaves?”
Heidegger looked at his watch. “An hour or so, sir.”
“Right.” Rufus nodded to the assembled soldiers. “Keep up the good work, men. I bid you good day.” He wandered off with Heidegger, pausing only to add to the Author, “Good luck with your collection.”
After the two had departed, the lieutenant proudly surveyed his men.
“Well done, troops!” he said loudly. “You may have the rest of the day off. I’ll see you in training tomorrow.”
He scuttled off after the President.
There was a short uncomfortable silence while the others waited until he was out of earshot.
“So what do we do now?” Wedge asked. “I feel as if my life has lost all purpose now that’s over.”
“We go find the cargo ship, of course,” Perigee informed him. “Sephiroth’s headed for it, remember?”
“So where’s that?”
Roch pointed in the direction in which Rufus had left. “Over there.”
“How do you know that?”
“This sign here.”
Perigee shrugged. Of course, those pixellated notices that were completely illegible in the game. It hadn’t occurred to him that he might actually be able to read them.
“I,” he began, before being cut off by Cloud hurtling past him with a cry, once more, of, “Onwards!”
“What’s with him?” Mr. Big wondered out loud. “He’s acting all Heroic all of a sudden.”
“I suppose being on a quest is going to his head,” Perigee suggested. “Well, all aboard who’s going aboard, I guess.”

Part 3: World Travel
Chapter VII	Fifteen Heroes on a Dead Man’s Chest

What shall we do with the… *hic*… uh oh…
- Mondo the One Man Pirate

“You know, I could almost forget all the troubles of the world out here,” Aeris observed, standing at the stern of the cargo ship and staring out to sea. Junon was receding into the distance and just about disappearing over the horizon. “It’s so peaceful out here.”
“WAHEY!” shouted Kasuto, hurtling past behind them on her seventeenth lap of the deck so far. There wasn’t really much else to do, so she was amusing herself as best she could.
“All but one of the troubles of the world,” Aeris corrected herself. Beside her, the Author smiled. He’d decided for the moment to keep quiet about the fact that, almost definitely, Sephiroth was on this ship with them. Somewhere. She looked too happy for him to spoil the mood.
“It’s like another world, when you can’t see the land, isn’t it?” Aeris continued. “It’s so much more tranquil.”
The Author nodded.
“You should see the world from the air,” he remarked absently.
Aeris turned towards him, wide-eyed.
“You’ve been up there?”
The Author opened his mouth, and hesitated. Drat. Of course he’d been in planes and other, less feasible flying contraptions more times than he could remember, but not in this world. Now how did he explain that comment?
“I… er… it’d surprise you where I’ve been,” he managed lamely. At least that wasn’t a lie, and Aeris seemed to accept it without question. Damnit, if only he could just tell her the truth! Things would be so much easier… assuming she could handle the fact that she was a character in a computer game…
He sighed. It took a certain type of mind to understand the principles of literature, the way fact and fiction merged seamlessly with one another. And much as he longed to tell her exactly who he was, he didn’t want to risk losing what he had.
He was getting melodramatic in his old age, he mused.
“You want to go up, some time?” he asked, trying to break the short silence that had rushed in. Aeris nodded vehemently.
“Definitely!” she exclaimed. “I want to know what it’s like to see the world from above. To look down on everyone.”
Despite his sudden melancholy, the Author smiled again. “You will, don’t worry,” he reassured her. “Sooner or later. Even if you have to wait until this is all over, I can take advantage of a few favours for you. You’ll see the world as you say. I promise.”

“Heidegger,” said Rufus, for the twenty-rhird time since they’d left Junon about an hour ago, “shut up.”
Heidegger spun on his heel to face the President, and waved his cutlass at him. Rufus hadn’t the faintest idea where the hell he’d found a cutlass, or, for that matter, why he was acting the way he was.
“Ahar!” the Director of Warfare announced loudly. “This be my ship, yer hear, an’ I’ll speak the way I likes it! Ye’ll be fishfood if yer argues with me again! Arrr!”
Rufus sighed and wandered over to where the captain of the ship was doing his best to stare at the sea ahead and deliberately not notice what was going on behind him.
“You and me both,” Rufus remarked, practically reading his thoughts as he joined him. Behind him, Heidegger spotted an unopened crate on the main deck and hurtled off with a cry of, “Ahar! Booty!”
“Is he always like that, sir?” enquired the captain nervously, not sure if he was speaking out of place but feeling that something was needed to fill the empty silence that followed Heidegger’s departure.
Rufus shrugged. “Not usually. He just seems to go all nautical whenever he gets put on a ship.”
Outside the cabin, Barret stared gloomily through the window at the President from his hiding place behind a barrel, presumably of grog or rum or some other piratical beverage. “Why can’t I just waste him from here?”
“Because, Barret,” Perigee explained wearily, “then they’d know that we were on board.”
“Yeah, so?”
“And then we wouldn’t be able to get at Sephiroth, would we?”
“An’ Sephiroth’s more important than the Shinra?”
“Yes, Barret.”
“Oh.”
“Hey, guys,” Tifa called, hurrying up to them. “What’re you doing?”
“We’re spying on Rufus,” said Perigee proudly. “You can’t hear much, so you have to use your imagination about what’s being said, but it’s kinda fun.”
Tifa shrugged. “Anyway, have you seen Cloud anywhere?”
“I think he’s down in the cargo hold,” Perigee informed her. “Last thing I saw he was searching through all the crates for secrets. You know, hidden potions or weapons or whatnot.”
“Oh, thanks. I’ll go look for him there.”
Tifa turned and began to hurry off. Unfortunately, she only managed about four or five steps before a deafening siren sounded from the roof of the control room.
“Warning!” it announced in the traditional urgent monotone used for all such announcements. One has to wonder exactly who records notices like that. “Warning! An unforeseen disturbance has been detected in the engine room! Guards are to investigate!”
Tifa sighed. “Oh, Cloud…”
“Actually, that isn’t Cloud they’re referring to,” said Perigee knowledgeably.
“Isn’t it? How do you know?”
“Oh, I… er… that is… um… intuition?” Perigee suggested eventually. Whoops.
“What’s going on now?” the Author enquired, running over to them with Aeris beside him and Kasuto bouncing along close behind. “Who’s messed up this time?”
“Something’s going on down below,” Perigee explained as, one by one, the rest of the group joined them. Had anyone been watching, they might have seemed slightly suspicious. Worthy of the guards’ attention, at the very least. “An ‘unforeseen disturbance.’”
“Sephiroth?” suggested Ess.
“Guess so.”
“So do we get to go and beat him up?” Mr. Big asked hopefully. “I want to try out my moves.”
“Well, once we’ve located -”
“Hey, guys!” Cloud shouted, sprinting up. “Sorry I’m late, I was busy. But look what I found!”
He held out a sword for them to examine. It had a serrated edge, and there were a couple of holes through the blade near the hilt. Perigee noted Cloud had already transferred his materia from his old sword to this one.
“You didn’t find that in the cargo hold?” he said incredulously.
Cloud nodded. “Yeah, in a fish crate. It’s amazing what you can find when you look.”
“Yo,” said Barret impatiently, “we gonna stand around here yappin’ all day, or we gonna go kick some Sephiroth ass?”
“Innit!” Mr. Big agreed happily, switching into his ‘rude boy’ dialect. He had to admit to liking it, actually. It was strangely amusing. “We lash that bro real good! Pop a cap in his ass, ya know what me be… is someone talking like that again? That really gets on my nerves, you know.”
The sudden switch in attitude was precipitated by the Author once more producing his Pokéball and hefting it pointedly. Mr. Big instantly reverted to his normal speech and tried to look innocent.
“Well,” Barret announced, “I’m goin’! Ev’ryone, follow me!”

Barret stuck his head around the door to the engine room.
“Is he in there?” called Cloud from the other end of the corridor. He waited a short while for a reply, then walked down and clapped Barret on the shoulder.
“Hey, is he in there?”
Barret remained silent.
“Barret?”
Cloud looked through the doorway.
The engine room was fairly small, and what space there was was filled by rusty machines, a giant monster and a nasty smell of oil.
“Whoa, yeah, I see what you mean,” said Cloud. “It smells really bad in here.”
The he noticed there was a man in there as well.
“Sephiroth! You!”
The cloaked man met his gaze and smiled darkly.
“Me?” he asked, pointing at his chest and putting on an innocent expression. Had Cloud’s attention not been focused entirely on Sephiroth, he may well have judged it noteworthy that the huge creature next to him performed exactly the same motion, albeit with a tentacle rather than a hand. “I suppose I am, yes. Who are you? You seem strangely familiar.”
“Nibelheim, five years ago,” Cloud said coldly. “You killed my friends and destroyed my home.”
“Did I?” Sephiroth laughed harshly, and beside him, the monster let out a piercing screech. “Yes, I suppose I did, didn’t I? I do apologise, how could I forget that day?”
Cloud took a few steps forward. Any trace of his previously jocular attitude had disappeared completely. “You must pay for that. I can’t let you -”
“Oh, do shut up,” Sephiroth snapped. “Spare me the sentimental rubbish. You were doing it for yourself.”
“Sentimental? I think I… what?”
Sephiroth grinned widely. “You are as much to blame for the whole event as this is,” he remarked casually, pointing once more at himself. “I sense a definite similarity. Perhaps you are worthy to join with the reunion after all.”
“Reunion?” Perigee put in hurriedly, wanting to make sure they got this bit of the plot out of the way.
Sephiroth nodded, as did the creature beside him. “It is where I… where Jenova will return. The wound in the northern crater grows deeper even now. A new era will began when she is revived fully.” He gave Cloud a benevolent smile, an it looked like the creature beside him did its best to do the same. “You may attend too, if you wish. There’re plenty of spare places. You can take your time getting there, though. I have a couple of stops I must make on the way.”
“Which are?”
“Well,” Sephiroth continued, “I need a certain Black materia, which I have reason to believe is in the Temple of the Ancients. That’s on the continent to the south-east,” he added helpfully. “Please don’t interfere. I would rather you arrived at the reunion in one piece.”
He nodded towards the monster. “But first, I believe it is my duty to ask you to demonstrate whether you are powerful enough. This here is a small sample of my powers. Defeat it and you will have earned the right to attend. Fail and it will assimilate you, and you won’t even need to attend, let alone be able to.” He shrugged. “Have fun.”
There was a brief, clichéd sensation of speed, and he simply vanished.
“You know,” said the Author thoughtfully, “we do seem to end up in rather a lot of pointless battles, don’t we?”
“Pointless?” Mr. Big retorted. “Don’t be daft! This is where I get to try out my moves!”
“Really?” The Author raised an eyebrow. “I’m intrigued. Please go ahead.”
“There’s not going to be enough room in here for all of us,” Cloud announced, eying the Jenova-thing cautiously. It seemed to be watching them curiously, content to wait for one of them to make the first move. After all, it wasn’t its reputation on the line. It knew they would have to attack sooner or later - either that or be dishonoured in front of their friends, never to call themselves true heroes again. “Um… you, Roch, and you, Big, come here. Everyone else, wait outside.”
“But I don’t have a weapon…” Roch tried to say, but was cut off by Heidegger’s arrival.
“By the kraken of the seven seas!” he exclaimed in shock. “What in the name of Redbeard’s haddock is this doing aboard me ship? Yes, me lad?”
This last sentence was spoken to Roch, who had walked up to him and tugged on his tunic.
“Excuse me, sir,” the boy began, “but might I borrow your sword for a few moments?”
“Eh? Oh, why not, me heartie!” Heidegger took his cutlass from his belt and handed it to him. “Turn that thing into sharkbait! I’d better go tell me crew!”
“Will do.”
Roch hurried over to the centre of the room where Cloud was waiting. Mr. Big had taken up position on a small boiler nearby, for once reckoning he’d be better off somewhere other than sitting on someone’s shoulder.
“Right!” Cloud announced. “Let the fight begin!”
“Er…” said Mr. Big after about five seconds. “Shouldn’t one of us do something?”
“I thought I’d let one of you two have the first attack,” Cloud explained generously. “You could try out a tech or something.”
“Oh, right! Yeah!” Mr. Big cracked his ears loudly, and stared at Jenova.
“So how do I do these tech things, then?” he asked eventually.
“Oh, you just say the name out loud and things sort of come naturally after that,” Cloud told him.
“With you. So how do you know what your techs are called?”
“You just… know…” said Cloud, sounding slightly less confident.
Jenova stared balefully down at the three of them. Okay, so there was no hurry here, but it would be nice if something happened. Perhaps it was necessary to give them a hint.
Within its capacious form, energy began to flow.
“Hyper rabbit cannon!” Mr. Big tried.
Nothing.
“How about ‘Ear strike?’” Cloud suggested helpfully. Mr. Big tried this, with a similar lack of effect.
“Hey, wait a second!” he said suddenly. “Something’s coming…” He took a deep breath and put on his most evil grin. “Bobsled faaaaaa…”
He froze.
Cloud looked up at Jenova. “That was a bit spiteful, wasn’t it?” he chided her. “Casting Stop on him just before he got to do his move. You don’t need to be that nasty.” Roch elbowed him gently in the ribs. “Yes?”
“We could always do something,” he suggested softly.
Cloud nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah… Hey, you any good with that sword?”
“Yes,” said Roch flatly.
“How good?”
“Good enough.”
“Do you know ‘Dash & Gash’?”
Roch nodded. Cloud beamed. The two of them readied their swords in perfect synchronisation.
“X-Strike!” Cloud shouted.
Their blades seemed to burst into flame as the two of them charged forward, leaving faint crimson sparks hanging in the air behind them. What exactly happened as they reached the monster was unclear, but it looked as if they both passed straight through one another and Jenova, a faint red X hovering in the air behind them. There was a brief silence as they skidded to a halt, before Jenova screeched in pain and there was a loud thunderclap for effect.
Watching from the doorway, Perigee clasped a hand to his forehead in exasperation. Would the external references never end?
Jenova glared down at the two who had dared to hurt it. Okay, so its purpose here was to lose, but even so they didn’t have to go quite so over the top about it. They would have to pay.
It drew back one tentacle and thwapped Cloud about the head. Normally this would have done little more than stun him momentarily, but he was off-balance from the double tech and so it caused him to stagger forward until he was halted roughly by a horizontal pipe at head height. His feet shot out from under him and he collapsed onto the floor, his sword slipping from his grip. It hit the panels a moment after him, the blade scything easily through the metal up to the hilt.
“Cloud!” Tifa cried, trying to run to help him.
Perigee placed a hand firmly on her shoulder. “This is his fight,” he said softly. “He’s got to win this one without us.”
Roch let Cloud’s fall hold his attention for barely a second before he returned to the task in hand. He sighed. So the rabbit had allowed itself to get stopped, and Cloud was now out cold. Why did he have to be the only one capable of staying on his feet for more than a few minutes?
It was a good thing his back was turned to the others as he began walking slowly towards Jenova. The expression on his face would have shocked them, particularly Ess. Determination, anger, even perhaps a trace of anticipation… Not the sort of emotions a five-year old should be experiencing.
As Cloud lay motionless, a black shape faded into existence. A black-cloaked figure. The hood was pulled over his head, but a few stray wisps of grey hair had escaped it and lay on his shoulders.
He reached inside his cloak and rummaged around for a few moments.
“Let’s see… must be in here somewhere… why’d this thing have to have so much space anyway… ah…” He smiled, and produced a duck from his cloak. It held his surprised stare evenly and quacked briefly at him before he shrugged and hurled it over his shoulder. “Okaaay… um… this?”
This time his hand came out holding a soft toy. He sighed, and gave the thing a few experimental squeezes. It didn’t make any noise, so he threw that away too. “Must be broken… don’t tell me I forgot to pack it… ahhh…”
Grinning widely, he somehow extracted from one of his sleeves a huge scythe, the blade pressed up against the handle. He took the thing in both hands, and thumped one end on the floor. With a satisfying shhhing noise, the blade sprung out and glinted evilly in the light.
“Cloud Strife,” he intoned solemnly, “your time has come. I hereby come to -”
Cloud opened his eyes and stared blearily up at the figure.
“Huh…?” he murmured. “You…?”
The figure sighed and returned the scythe to wherever it had come from. “Typical,” he muttered. “Why couldn’t you just die when you were meant to?”
Cloud looked confused. His gaze followed the figure as it strode grumpily off towards the… through the wall, which did not help his confusion much.
He got back to his feet and gripped his sword hilt with both hands. Okay, so that was how they were going to play, was it?
“Um… no, wait, don’t do that!” Perigee shouted, spotting the thin trickle of water seeping in through the floor around the edge of Cloud’s blade. But his warning came too late. Cloud hauled his sword out of the metal, and suddenly a jet of water spurted up through the hole it had left, reaching almost to the ceiling. The floor around the hole tore and buckled inwards, and within seconds the small fountain had turned into a geyser.
“Ack!” he exclaimed. He’d been leaning over to get his sword out and thus had received the full force of the water in his face. “What? Ow! Help!”
“Hmm.” The Author looked down thoughtfully at the water already beginning to lap at the toes of his shoes. “Should we seek higher ground, do you think?”
“Yo! After me!” Barret announced, hurtling off and beckoning to them to follow. “To da deck!”
“Barret, the stairs are that way!” Tifa called after him.
“That’s where I’m goin’!” Barret continued, charging past in the opposite direction. “To da deck!”
“What about these guys?” Wedge enquired of Cloud and Roch.
“Yeah, c’mon, you slowcoaches!” Kasuto shouted at them, already retreating to the stairs. “We’re getting all wet here!”
“Coming!” Cloud called back. He waded through the knee-high water to the door, then remembered and grabbed Mr. Big by one ear. “Roch! Hurry up!”
The boy turned and gave him a melancholy stare. “I’ll be along in a minute! Just got to finish this off!”
When everyone else had left for higher ground, he returned his attention to Jenova. “We shouldn’t end this yet,” he remarked. “Come on.” He cleared his throat. “Level Up.”
Around the two of them, the waters parted, revealing their feet - well, Roch’s feet and Jenova’s… um… base - as they floated gently towards the ceiling. As their heads neared it, the metal peeled outwards to provide a suitably sized hole for the two of them to pass through, then folded back into place once they were through.
They landed neatly on the upper deck moments before Barret came thundering up the stairs.
“Hey! How’d that get up here?” he shouted in a mixture of annoyance and astonishment. “We can’t get rid of the damn thing!”
The Author sighed as he arrived on deck and spotted Jenova still here. “Honestly, this battle’s gone on for long enough,” he muttered to himself. “Oh, I don’t care what the rules of the game are. I’m going to end this.”
He placed both hands around his materia amulet and closed his eyes. Crimson light spilled out from between his fingers as he whispered, “Princess Z Tri-”
A faint voice, carried on the sea breeze, wafted over to them, snapping him out of his concentration. His eyes widened in horror. Oh, no… Not now…
He could have sworn the voice had been saying, “I say, old beans, there’s a whatsit over there! Not on, you know! Let’s give it what ho, what?”
“Er,” he said. “I think we should probably…”
The sea to one side of the ship exploded.
“…try and find a way off this ship as soon as possible,” the Author continued as a fine salty spray showered him. “I hate to say this, but we’re being bombarded.”
“What? By who?” Ess asked.
“Don’t ask.”
Cloud pointed his sword skywards.
“Abandon ship!” he yelled, and promptly hurled himself overboard.
A second or so later, another shell hit and the sea erupted once more.
“Cloud!” Tifa cried, running over to the side of the deck. “Cloud!”
Cloud surfaced.
“Hey, you should -” he began before something went whumph and he was hurled skywards with a column of water and a cry of, “Waaaaaahhh…”
The Author barged his way through the others until he came to Aeris. Part of his subconscious noted absently that his first reaction upon realising that they were in danger had been to make sure she was okay.
“Look,” he said firmly, taking her hand in his, “when this goes down, we’re going to get sucked under. Whatever happens, don’t let go of my hand, okay? I jump, you jump, and all that.”
Aeris nodded nervously.
“Good.” The Author led her to the edge of the deck. “Now ju-”
The ship exploded.

“Another unfamiliar ceiling,” muttered Cloud. He was in that wonderful state of mind where he was awake enough to think, but asleep enough not to remember. The ceiling was rather an interesting one, being encrusted with rust. There was a single light bulb hanging from the centre, which swung idly from side to side.
As the rest of his senses kicked in, Cloud became aware of the sound of metal groaning under stress, the thick smell of salt, and somebody holding his hand.
He sat up, ready to shout… and memory flooded in. He relaxed, turned and said, “Don’t worry, Ess, I’m not hur… Tifa?”
Fortunately for Cloud’s personal safety, Tifa was actually asleep. Gradually piecing things together Cloud began to realise what must have happened. The ship’d been fired at, and he’d been knocked out. Someone’d survived the blast and brought him… here. Wherever here was. And obviously Tifa’d been looking after him. Maybe there’d been something about her that he’d overlooked?
He shook her shoulder slightly. “Tifa?”
Tifa’s eyes fluttered open, and she stared at him unseeingly for a moment.
“Cloud!” she sighed finally. “I was… worried about you.”
“Hey, I was in SOLD… I could have been in SOLDIER, remember?”
“Oh, shut up,” said Tifa weakly. “I couldn’t stand the thought that you might be…”
“Tifa, I…”
“No, I’ve got to say this now, or I may never get the chance again. I…”
“I say! You’re alright, old chap!”
Both heads turned to stare at the apparition that had appeared in the doorway, blocking out almost all light from the corridor. It was fairly short, but well rounded, to the extent that it barely fit through the door. It was wearing a green army tunic, brown trousers, and heavy black boots, polished to perfection. Across its chest an impressive line of medals stretched well beyond either shoulder, and atop the whole affair was a round leather hat with a six-inch metal spike in the centre. And it had a moustache, the likes of which Cloud and Tifa had never seen before.
“You two beans okay?” it asked, advancing towards them. “Looked like you were in trouble back there, eh? Nothing to worry about, though! We gave that blighter a dose of good old British firepower, what? Haha!”
“Er…” said Tifa nervously.
“Oh, how ungentlemanly of me! The name’s the Major. Well, that’s not my real name, obviously, what? Just what everyone on board calls me. Pleased to meet you, old girl.”
“Er…” repeated Tifa, not entirely sure what to make of this situation. “On board…?”
“Oh, yes.” The Major waved an arm expansively, presumably endeavouring to indicate the room they were in and everything beyond it. “The jolly old ship HMS Inflatable and its crew, at your service, what? Glad to have you on board!”
“Er…” added Cloud.
“Anyway,” the Major continued, backing towards the door, “I’ll leave you two beans to yourselves, eh? Dinner is available in the jolly old mess hall, but feel free to drop by the bridge if you’re feeling up to it. Tally ho!”
He retreated back out and closed the door softly behind him. Such wonderful old beans to have on his ship…
“Afternoon, Major,” said the Author, waiting for him in the corridor. The elderly officer spun round, saw who it was, and beamed widely.
“Ah, Author, old bean, old chap, old thing!” he exclaimed joyously. “Good to see you again! Been… such a dashed long time, what?”
“It has,” the Author agreed, smiling. “So this is what you’ve been doing.”
“Ploughing the ocean wave!” The Major grinned even wider. “Just the crew and me out here, you know. Good fun. We spotted a monster thing earlier today. Just before we picked you up, you know.”
“Yes,” said the Author flatly. “That was our ship you sunk.”
“Oh, was it? Whoops.”
“Don’t worry about it, Major,” the Author replied benevolently as the two of them headed down the corridor towards the bridge. “That battle was going on too long anyway.”
The bridge, as it turned out, was a particularly spacious room with a number of control panels along two of the walls - these turned out, when the Author inspected them later, to be nothing more than seemingly random levers and buttons with no real purpose other than to look interesting and useful. The front wall was taken up by a huge window, affording a good view over the ship’s bow and the waters ahead. The Author noted a couple of huge artillery cannons on the deck, one facing to either side.
There was only one person on the bridge for the moment - a tall but thin man who gave the general impression of owing his stature to being forcibly stretched at some point during his childhood. He wore a stereotypical sailor’s uniform, but had a green beret instead of the standard cap. A pair of small circular glasses rested lightly on his nose.
“Good afternoonsah!” he said, saluting extravagantly when he saw the Major arriving. “Who’s the visitorsah?”
“The name’s the Author,” the Author informed him. “I’m… an old friend of the Major’s.”
“Ah! A friend of the Major’s is a friend of minesah!”
The Author raised an eyebrow. “And who are you?”
“Boatswain Sausagessah! Second in command of the HMS Inflatablesah!”
“Right.” The Author shrugged. Well, he guessed, someone as eccentric as the Major was bound to attract other such characters. “May I suggest we get everyone up here to explain what’s going on? I imagine after the ship was blown up under their feet, they’ll be just a tad confused.”
The Major nodded sagely. “Sounds like a jolly good idea, old boy.” He turned to his subordinate. “Sausages? Tell all the blighters to come up here, what?”
“Rightsah!”
Sausages strode over to one of the desks and picked up a small wooden microphone resting thereon. It crackled loudly as he raised it and rattled off a few abrupt phrases into it.
“Everyone to report to the bridge, under orders of the Majorsah!” he announced. “All crew and passengerssah! Hurrysah!”
“Oh, just one thing,” the Author added. “Major, you have worked out an alias for yourself, haven’t you?”
“Eh? Oh, yes, of course, old boy.” The Major beamed happily. “I’ve been looking up everyone’s background, you know. I’ll fit in like a rug, don’t you worry, what?”
“Er… yes. Whatever.”

One by one the others filtered into the room, after much protracted wandering around the ship’s maze of corridors. The Author lounged against the wall in one corner, watching and waiting, prepared to leap in and cut the Major off in mid-speech if it looked like he was going to say the wrong thing. The old bean may be well-meaning, but he wasn’t entirely clued up.
He couldn’t help but notice the absence of either Jessie or Wedge. He knew both had made it aboard - he’d personally hauled almost everyone else up onto the ship when it neared them. That Mega Plus materia of his had probably saved a couple of lives back there, including his. He shook his head sadly. Such a shame it had gone and sunk after all that. It’d take him days to write himself a new one.
“Have you seen Jessie or Wedge anywhere?” he enquired of the Major.
“Ah,” called a portly sailor, waddling over to them. “Would ye be concernin’ yerself aboot the large lad an’ the lassie wi’ brown hair?”
This newcomer was wearing a similar uniform to that sported by Boatswain Sausages, although his was more stretched horizontally and less vertically. He wore a pair of absolutely immense boots that looked like they were made of lead, and almost his entire face was obscured by a ridiculous black beard that stuck out in literally all directions.
“Yes, that’s them,” the Author said, turning to him. “You’ve seen them?”
“Ah, yes. The poor kid almost got himself turned to fishfood back there. He’s restin’ in his room, an’ the lassie’s lookin’ after him.”
“Oh, okay.” The Author gave this crewmember a confused stare. “Are you… Scottish?”
“Ye kin tell?” The sailor beamed. “Pugwash’s the name. Ah’m a pirate! Arrr!”
“Er…” was about all the Author could manage.
The Major drew a rusted sword from his belt and rapped it against one of the walls a few times to get everyone’s attention. “Right ho, old beans!” he announced at the top of his voice. “Good to have you all on board the jolly old HMS Inflatable, what! The name’s Major Zack Higginbottom-Haggis, but everyone just calls me the Major.”
The Author slapped one palm to his forehead and groaned audibly. That was the last time he let the Major decide on his own alias.
“Zack…?” murmured Tifa.
“Wait a sec…” Ess mused. “Zack… couldn’t be…”
“Brought up in some dashed small town called Gongaga,” ‘Zack’ continued cheerfully. “I’ll have you know I was one of those bally SOLDIER beans for several years. It all went a bit pear-shaped five years ago, though. Dashed shame.”
The Author was impressed. It was actually quite unusual for the Major to bother looking up the background of the world to make sure he fitted in. He must really be taking this story to heart.
“Are you saying you’re the Zack who was sent to Nibelheim with Sephiroth?” Ess enquired skeptically.
“Um… yes, I suppose that’ll be me, old girl.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” replied Aeris, Cloud, Ess, Perigee, and Tifa simultaneously. The Major looked downcast.
“What do you mean, old beans?” he asked, sounding really quite shocked. “You doubt the word of a campaigner like me? Why, that’s just not on, what? I’ll have you know, when I was in command of the HMS Irrational…”
“Zack was about three or four inches taller than you,” Ess pointed out, cutting him off in mid-reminisce.
The Major was only about five foot nine.
“Zack had spiky black hair,” Tifa added.
What hair remained on the Major’s head was grey and thinning, and by the looks of it would have been hard pressed to manage even one spike.
“Zack always used that huge sword,” Perigee agreed.
The Major did have a sword, although his was maybe three feet long and so unbelievably blunt that it bore more resemblance to a cricket bat than to a finely crafted weapon of war. It had a horrible tendency to go thud rather than shhhhhing when you attacked someone with it.
“Zack would be twenty-seven by now,” Aeris put in.
It was fair to say that the Major was somewhat past his prime. In actual fact he was just over ninety-three, but at the moment he looked so downhearted and disillusioned that he could easily have passed for a hundred and twenty or so.
“But… but, old beans…” he stammered, “you can’t see through disguises. That’s what they’re for, what?”
The Author decided that perhaps now was a suitable moment to intervene.
“My friends,” he announced loudly, striding forwards towards the Major, “allow me to introduce the Major. He’s not Major Anything. Just ‘the Major.’ Major, this is Cloud, Tifa, Barret, Aeris, Nanaki, Perigee, Ess, Kasuto, and myself you already know.”
“So who am I, then?”
“You’re the Major.”
“Am I? Oh, yes, so I am, aren’t I, what? Haha.”
“Friend o’ yours?” enquired Barret pointedly. He glared at Aeris, who was standing next to him and trying to stifle her laughter.
“Oh, yes, we go back decades.” The Author put one arm round the Major’s shoulders. “The Major here is the world’s greatest spy.”
“You can’t be serious!” Cloud blurted out without thinking. He realised afterwards it was a particularly tactless thing to have said.
The Author shrugged. “Well, would you think he was a spy?”
“Okay, that’s a very good point.”
“He travels the world searching for Germans,” the Author explained. “Of course, a master spy has to use all sorts of different aliases, and I guess it was just bad luck that, this time, he happened to choose one you were familiar with.”
“Who are these Germans anyway?” Nanaki asked. The Author winced and brought his hands up to cover his ears at the precise moment the Major exploded.
“You don’t know about Jerry, what?” he shouted. “Why, the scoundrels caused two dashed wars. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about them already, eh? I’ll just have to… yes, what is it, old bean?”
“Calm down, Major,” the Author told him, patting him kindly on one shoulder. He turned back to the others and mouthed, ‘I’ll explain later.’
“Should I go on?” asked the Major.
The Author nodded. “Finish what you were going to say.”
“Right ho.” The Major cleared his throat. “I… um… I say, what was I going to say?”
“You were going to explain to everyone exactly where they were, and reassure them that they’re in safe hands,” the Author reminded him. “I don’t think the latter part’s strictly necessary now, though.”
“Oh, yes, right, what? Okay, all you beans! When your dashed ship sunk,” he had the decency here to look marginally embarrassed, “we rescued you, don’t you know? If any of you chaps know which way you want to be going, then come and tell me and we’ll be off, eh? Everyone else, my ship is your ship. Pugwash and Sausages can tell you where to go. Good old beans, both of them.”
“Rightsah!”
“Aye, laddie! Ahar!”
It took maybe a minute or so for the group to disperse. The Author hung around afterwards, to make sure the Major didn’t make any more of a fool of himself than he already had, and he wasn’t in the least surprised to see Perigee staying too.
“He is one of your team, isn’t he?” the scientist called over, wandering up.
“Of course.”
“Thank God.” Perigee wiped his brow. “Before we decide where to go, could I just ask: where on earth did you get a battleship from?”
The Author shrugged. “Same place I get everything else from.”
“Which is?”
“Ah, now that would be telling, wouldn’t it?”
“Dashed good ship, isn’t she, what?” the Major put in, strolling over to join them. “Runs on socks, don’t you know. And it’s got guns! Five of the blighters, big ones too. Only one of them works, though.”
“What’s the point of having five if only… wait a second.” Perigee paused. “Did you say this runs on socks?”
“Perhaps I can explain better than he can,” the Author put in. “You know the whole E=mc2 thing, right?”
“Energy and mass equivalence? Naturally.”
“Well, do you know how much energy is contained within one sock?”
Perigee did a few quick mental calculations. “Oh,” he said after a couple of seconds.
“Exactly. We’ve got a very good washing machine down in the hold that spins at just the right speed to convert a sock entirely to energy. Well, it’s cheap, environmentally safe, it only goes through one sock every few weeks or so, and you can use it to wash your other clothes as long as you don’t put them in when it’s busy with a sock, otherwise it turns everything pink. It was Croft’s idea originally. Took me quite a few rewrites to get it working, though.”
“Whose idea?”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.” The Author shrugged. “Anyway, where’re we headed next? This Temple of the Ancients place that Sephiroth referred to, I assume.”
“Sort of,” said Perigee knowledgeably. “The thing is, we need to collect something called a Keystone before we can get into the Temple. That’s stored in the Gold Saucer amusement park over on the west continent. It’s quite a way inland, though, so we’ve got a bit of a walk ahead of us.”
“Oh, that’s no problem,” the Author reassured him. “Didn’t you see that huge airship back in Junon? I reckon we could go hijack that and save ourselves quite a bit of time.”
“No, it’s not worth it. We have to take a cable car up to the Saucer anyway.”
“Well, we’ll land by the cable car station then.” The Author gave Perigee a pointed stare. “We will take that airship, okay?”
“Why’re you so set on this?”
“Because I promised someone. Don’t enquire further.”
“Wh… oh. Right.” Perigee nodded, remembering. Aeris’ conversation with Cloud on board the cargo ship, where she’d asked him to take her for a ride on the Highwind… Of course she’d have had that talk with the Author instead. “Okay, I guess. But it might have left by now.”
“We can find out easily enough. Major? Telescope.”
“Oh, right you are, old bean.”
The Major stuck one hand inside his tunic and produced a battered naval telescope. It was maybe a foot long, and was covered almost completely in a sheet of rust. He tossed it gently to the Author, who caught it easily.
Perigee stared out of the window. Junon was just about visible as a faint speck on the horizon.
“Something that size’ll never get the resolution you need,” he pointed out authoritatively. “You just won’t be able to get the separation between the lenses.”
“Really?” The Author shrugged. “Well, it’s worth a go anyway.”
He grabbed the end of the telescope and extended it. Then he extended it some more, and, almost as an afterthought, kept extending it. Boatswain Sausages helpfully hurried over to the window and opened it for him.
The telescope was now about twelve feet long.
The Author peered into the eyepiece. “Yes,” he said happily. “The ship’s still there.”
“Well, then,” boomed the Major, “let’s go board the blighter! Tally ho!”
“Uh, okaaay…” said Perigee helplessly.

On his way to the medical bay to get his artillery-inflicted wounds seen to, somehow Cloud managed to lose Tifa. Then he managed to lose himself. This, added to the fact that it felt like he’d got shrapnel stuck in his arm, did not put him in the best of moods. And so it came to pass that he found himself on the main deck, where Aeris was standing by the bow, staring out to sea. She sighed happily as he wandered past, completely oblivious to his presence.
“Well, I’m glad to see you’re okay,” he muttered. Hmm… maybe too much sarcasm in that.
“Huh?” said Aeris, turning round. “Oh, you. It wasn’t difficult, really. Only a real weakling would be hurt by something like that.”
Yep. Too much sarcasm.
“It was a 34-inch explosive shell! You might think that could hurt a bit.”
“Yeah, well.” She waved her hand dismissively. “You’ve got the best armour of all of us, remember? There was only enough money for one set.”
“Well, at least I survived on my own strength. I don’t rely on anyone else to protect me.”
Aeris’ eyes narrowed. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”
“Have you seen how you hang all over the Author? You go all…” He blinked a couple of times, then opened his eyes wide. He titled his head slightly to one side, and the sun glinted off his pupils. There was a faint hint of tears in the corners of his eyes.
Aeris hit him. Hard. But as she had mentioned earlier, Cloud had the best armour available at the moment, and her own strength wasn’t up to much.
“Ow,” said Cloud, deadpan. A smile white number ‘1’ popped out of the collar of his shirt, bounced on the deck a couple of times, then fell overboard. Neither of them noticed.
“Okay, look,” he went on. “Let’s be reasonable about this.”
“Nah, don’t do that. Just hit her!”
The two of them turned in perfect synchronisation to stare at the railings on the edge of the deck, on which was balanced Mr. Big. He waved cheerily at them with one ear.
“Hey, come on, don’t be like that. Look, I know you’re both nice people, but we’ve been on this ship for a very long time now and we need something to keep us amused, don’t we? Don’t mind me, just keep… going…”
Cloud looked at Aeris. Aeris looked at Cloud. They both looked at Mr. Big.
“Messatsu gou hadou kyaku!” they both shouted together. Obviously the translators had given up on that one.
“Huh?” enquired Mr. Big briefly before two kicks connected simultaneously and he was punted high into the air. Aeris and Cloud watched his ascent, their disagreement temporarily forgotten.
After a while, just as the rabbit was getting sufficiently far away to become invisible from the ship, sunlight reflecting off his sunglasses made him appear to gleam for a moment.
It made a noise that sounded a lot like, ‘twing.’
The two of them stared into the distance for a while.
“Um… I… er, sorry…” said Cloud eventually. “I… I’ll just be going now…”
Sheepishly, he hurried off.

Time passed. A considerable amount of time, in fact - while the HMS Inflatable’s sock-powered drive may have been good at covering long distances in a short time, it was not built for turning and it was doubtful whether any ship had ever attempted a seventeen-point turn before. Still, once they’d got it facing the right way it went like a rocket, or at least as close to going like a rocket as one can manage with a three hundred foot battleship.
Up on deck, the Author leaned on the rail, staring gloomily over the edge. Mr. Big huddled on his shoulder and dripped quietly to himself. They’d fished him out of the sea a few nautical miles back, and since that time the Author had been completely unable to get him to explain exactly what he’d been doing in there.
“Took me ages to write that Mega Plus materia,” the Author was saying despondently. “I mean, I know how it’s done now, but even so getting a replacement’ll take… days, probably…”
“Why bother?” Mr. Big remarked.
“Excuse me?”
“Well, you should just be yourself, shouldn’t you? Honesty, and all that. Let ‘em know what you’re really like. I mean, you’ve used the Mega Plus thing to get you into the group when you rescued Cloud back in Midgar… sorta… so you don’t really need it any more now, do you?”
“You have a point. Besides, I don’t really like getting too powerful. Takes the fun out of the story.” He glanced at his materia amulet, which now had a rather incongruous gap between the other two. “Doesn’t look right, though, does it?”
“Ah, well,” Mr. Big cut in happily, “you’ll be pleased to hear I’ve got something for you.” He produced a small greenish orb, although where he’d been keeping it was anyone’s guess. Behind his back, perhaps. “I… um… ‘obtained’ a Restore materia back in Junon while everyone else was busy.”
“Restore?” the Author enquired, slotting the thing into his amulet.
“Yeah. It does healing spells, basically.”
The Author raised an eyebrow.
“I’m sure you have a hidden reason for choosing that one.”
“Well, of course!” Mr. Big grinned. “Nothing gets a girl to like you more than helping her out in her time of need. All you’ve gotta do now is to wait ‘til she’s getting beaten up in a battle, then you can heal her up and she’ll be all over you after that.”
The Author considered this.
“I can tell you mean well,” he remarked, “but I can’t decide whether I want to thank you or thwap you.”
“The former would be preferable,” Mr. Big suggested. “I’m just doing my best to bring a guy and a girl I like together. Nothing wrong with that, is there?”
“Not on the surface. But you always have a hidden agenda.”
“Well, not very well hidden, anyway.”
The Author nodded, and gently cuffed the rabbit on the back of the head with one hand.
“Oi!” he piped up, rubbing his head with one ear. “What was that for?”
“That’s for when I find out what your agenda is.”

It took some persuading to force the Junon authorities to allow the Inflatable to dock at the city. They kept waffling on about some dashed cargo ferries that were stuck there, but eventually they came to see the party’s point of view. The argument was finally settled when Pugwash levelled one of the Inflatable’s cannons at the dockside and the Major pointed out from the deck that he’d teach them a bally thing or two about getting whatsits stuck wherever if they didn’t surrender.
Jessie came to see the group off.
“You sure you want to stay behind?” Perigee asked, inwardly relieved. Those two didn’t add anything to the plot, they couldn’t fight, and they had next to no character development… Good to be rid of them, really.
Jessie nodded. “Wedge still isn’t doing too well,” she explained demurely. “Someone needs to stay with him…”
“We understand,” the Author told her reassuringly, hurriedly clamping a hand over Mr. Big’s mouth. “We’ll see you two later, then.”
“Well, we’ll be -” Cloud began before the Major appeared from the ship with a cry of, “I say, wait up, old beans!” and thundered down towards them.
“Oh, no,” Perigee muttered. “He’s not coming with us, is he?”
“Why not?” replied the Author. “He’s well-meaning, he can be useful in a fight, he’ll get us sympathy from the older characters, and above all, he’s got the Blunderbuss. Now,” he added, and stopped. “Major, where is the Blunderbuss?”
The Major shrugged. “Couldn’t say, old boy. Sure I had the dashed thing one minute, next minute it was jolly well gone! Hope it turns up, what?”
“Probably for the best,” the Author mused.
“What is this Blunderbuss anyway?” Perigee asked. The Author and Mr. Big gave him identical stares of doom.
“Do not question the Blunderbuss,” said Mr. Big darkly. “It is a weapon of ultimate destruction. When it is fired, someone or something always gets blown up.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” agreed the Author. “There’s no way to tell what will get blown up, though. The only things safe when the Major fires it are the Major himself and whatever he’s firing it at.”
“Oh.”
“Ahoy there, Boatswain Sausages!” the Major boomed. A couple of seconds later, Sausages appeared on the deck and waved down at them.
“Yessah?”
“Take dashed good care of her, won’t you, old chap? Don’t want to get back and hear some blighter’s been having a go at her, what?”
“Rightsah! Jollygoodsah!”
“So, old beans,” the Major continued, turning back to the others. “Where are we off to now, what?”
Cloud pointed skywards. “Up, up and away!” he said happily.
Mr. Big groaned.

“Look,” said the Author calmly, “it’s not a particularly difficult concept to grasp. You just go and stand over in that corner for a minute or so. That gives us just about long enough to sneak aboard this airship, and then we can overpower any guards inside and steal it. Do you follow me now?”
The soldier waiting by the walkway up to the Highwind stood resolutely where he was. He’d faced madmen before, but somehow these guys seemed worryingly sane. Eccentric rather than mad.
“I could steal his clothes,” suggested Kasuto helpfully.
“Well,” Perigee considered this, “it would make him run away, but… no.” It wasn’t so bad when the victim was a sixteen-bit sprite, but when he was standing right in front of you the idea wasn’t quite as appealing.
“I could just stab him,” Roch pointed out. He’d ‘borrowed’ a bread knife from the Inflatable’s mess and had tucked it neatly through his belt until he could find himself a proper sword.
“You see?” the Author continued reasonably to the guard. “We’ve got any number of ways of disposing of you. Now why don’t you be sensible and take my advice, and that way you don’t get hurt. Or embarrassed,” he added, glancing sideways at Kasuto.
“I… er…” the guard began. “You…”
“Oh, just shut up and let ‘em in, will ya?” snapped a voice from inside.
The guard spun round and bowed, intensely glad to have the decision taken out of his hands. “Right, sir, Mr. Highwind, sir! I’ll just go now and… er… polish my rifle or something…”
He scurried off.
“Well?” the voice went on. “You guys comin’ in or what?”
The source of the voice was, as the reader will by now have guessed, the pilot of the airship. He was leaning against the wall just inside the entrance, a cigarette sticking out of the corner of his mouth, and by the smell of things either he or the cigarette had been there for some time. The Author wafted a hand in front of his face to try and get the air moving, and Kasuto put both hands over her mouth and made Darth Vader noises.
“So,” the pilot said flatly, “you guys want to steal this ship, right?”
“Yes,” said the Author firmly.
“Why?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Why?”
“We’re trying to save the world from an evil madman,” Cloud put in. “This is far more important than any use you might have for it.”
“Really?” The pilot raised an eyebrow. “What’s the company got to say about this?”
“Shinra? I don’t think they know. They probably don’t want us to.”
“Right? Well, in that case,” the pilot extended a hand, “welcome aboard. The name’s Cid Highwind. Where d’you guys want to go first?”
“You jes’ gonna help us?” Barret enquired suspiciously.
Cid nodded. “Yeah. Got a problem with that?”
“No, nothing,” Tifa interrupted, desperate to avoid a fight. “We’re very grateful, Mr. Highwind.”
Mr. Highwind laughed. “The name’s Cid. No need for formalities with me. Now where’re you going? Only we should be off pretty quick before that twat outside goes and tells the authorities.”
“We want to go to the Gold Saucer,” Perigee told him. “On business, you understand.”
“You too, huh? Well, I can take you as far as Corel. You’ll have to take the cable car up to the Saucer, though. They don’t have a place for this baby to land any closer.”
“…Corel…” muttered Barret, unheard.
“That’s fine with us,” Perigee said. “Any time you can save us would be much appreciated.”
“Yeah, whatever. Come on, hop in.”

“So just why are you helping us?” the Author enquired. He was leaning up against one of the walls in the Highwind’s control room, the only others present being Cid and his two trainee pilots. “You’re a Shinra guy, aren’t you? You do know we’re those terrorists they’ve been after?”
“No,” Cid admitted, “not that it matters. If you’re gonna annoy Rufus, then you’ve got my support. Damn jumped-up schoolboy…”
“I’m sorry?”
“Kid thinks he can just do whatever he wants now he’s President. I go to him with a perfectly reasonable suggestion, and he tells me to get lost. Even tries to get me to be his personal chauffeur.”
The Author shrugged. “To which your reaction was?”
“I told him to piss off.”
“Ah. Understandable.” The Author shrugged. “They’re not going to be particularly pleased with you for just running off like that, you know. Especially if they find out you’ve been helping us out.”
“Yeah, well, I’m thinkin’ of goin’ freelance now. Not as though I owe them anything.”
“Good choice.”
Cid gave the Author a piercing glance. “You suckin’ up to me or something?”
“Would I do anything of the sort? I’m just being a good listener.”
“Go listen somewhere else then, would you? Just ‘cause I’m helpin’ you doesn’t mean I like you, right?”
“Right, certainly. Could I just ask one question, though?”
“Shoot.”
“Can you get up on the deck while this thing’s flying?”
“Yeah, of course.” Cid looked marginally puzzled. “Why?”
“Oh, I think a friend of mine would appreciate being taken up there.” The Author bowed. “Thank you for your time, sir pilot.”
“The name’s Cid, you know!” Sir Pilot shouted after him as he left.

“Well, this is Corel, you know,” Cid remarked casually as the group strolled into the town… or at least what had probably been a town at some point. “It ain’t pretty, but this is where you head up to the Saucer. I can’t take you any further in the Highwind.”
“Whoa…” breathed Tifa, staring around her in disbelief. This place probably classified as a town only because people stayed here all year round. Sure, there were houses - or at least, there were run-down arrangements of concrete walls placed in close proximity to one another, so they would have to suffice - but that was about it. The ground was scorched - no sign of grass or any life there. The few inhabitants who still remained either sat around staring at the new visitors, or hurried back up to the makeshift stalls they had set up and tried to look businesslike. It was about as close to a ghost town as you could manage without slaughtering the villagers.
“What on earth happened here?” Ess asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. Perigee opened his mouth to reprimand her for not paying enough attention to the world briefing before they’d integrated, then caught himself in time and shut it again.
“I dunno,” replied Mr. Big, sufficiently shocked to keep him from making unhelpful comments, “but I don’t think I want to find out.”
“Barret, didn’t you say you were from…” began Cloud. “Hey, Barret, what the hell are you doing?”
“Wha’? Me? Nothin’!” said Barret innocently, doing his best to pretend that he was not, in fact, wearing a pair of oversized glasses and a bushy false moustache and beard. “Jes’… there might be spies hear, ya know?”
“Yeah… I guess…” Cloud agreed, scratching the back of his head thoughtfully. “I suppose they might recognise you, yeah… Whatever.” He shrugged the matter off, not wanting to give it any more thought than was strictly necessary. “So where’s this cable car, then?”
“Far end of the town,” Perigee said resignedly, pointing. He had barely finished the sentence before Cloud had hurtled off with his now trademark, “Onwards!”
“Wow, he’s getting even worse than before,” Mr. Big observed coolly. “This Questing’s really getting to him.”
“Tell me about it,” Perigee muttered. “C’mon, let’s follow him.”
The group began to head through the town, ignoring - in most cases - the vender’s cries of, “Mythril bangle, going cheap!” or “One of a kind fire materia, mister, just for you!” Cloud, of course, stopped at each one and inspected their wares critically before realising that they didn’t actually have all that much money.
“Yo, Writer boy!” Cid called after the Author, who was the last to get moving - bar Aeris, who was waiting for him, and Mr. Big, who couldn’t be bothered to find a different shoulder to travel on. The Author looked back, and wandered over to the pilot.
“Yes?” he asked genially.
“Hey, that’s quite a good one,” Mr. Big was musing out loud. “‘Writer boy.’ I’d better remem-”
He shut up hurriedly as the Author whacked him firmly on the back of the head with his dictionary.
“I gotta ask,” Cid went on. “Just what are you guys really up to?”
“Just what we said. Saving the world, basically. It’s definitely a case of Us versus Them - where Them seems to consist of random monsters, those Turk guys, Sephiroth…”
“The Turks?” Cid raised an eyebrow. “You’re up against the Shinra too?”
“Guess so.”
“Well, in that case, you might as well count me in on this. Not as if I’ve got a job to go back to any more - or as if I’d want to, anyway. And savin’ the world sounds like it might keep me amused for a while. I’ll tag along.”
“[Cid] joined your party!” announced Mr. Big, who was beginning to get the hang of how this game worked.
Cid pointed at him. “Is he always like that?”
“Oh, always.”
“Right. You should eat him.”
The Author smiled. “You have no idea how many times the thought has crossed my mind.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear you two’re thinking of - hey!”

Under most circumstances the cable car ride up to the Gold Saucer would have been pleasant. The sun was just disappearing beneath the horizon, and the Saucer itself was beautifully lit up, almost like a very strangely shaped fairytale castle. Sadly, what with Kasuto hurtling round and round in circles, Roch brooding in one corner, Barret desperately trying to remove his now surprisingly obstinate moustache, and Mr. Big sulking loudly about how he didn’t really feel like being eaten, it was not the most enjoyable journey ever.
In the Gold Saucer entrance hall, the car door slid smoothly open and the thirteen of them bundled out, then set about working where one person began and the others ended. Fitting eleven people, one lion thing and one rabbit in a cable car obviously only designed for three people had not been easy.
“Ah, good evening, dear sirs, welcome to the Gold Saucer,” began the gate attendant, in a tone that made it perfectly clear she had said this far, far too many times. “I sincerely hope you enjoy your stay here, and that you take full advantage of all our reasonably-priced attractions. How may I help you?”
“You could get outta the way and let us in?” Cid suggested.
“But of course, dear sirs. Do you have a Gold Ticket?”
“A what?”
“Oh, dear me.” The attendant shook her head sadly. “A Gold Ticket is permanent lifetime access to this wonderful centre for your entire party. If you wish to enter without one, you shall have to pay the full admission price.”
“An’ that is?”
The attendant’s lips moved soundlessly in mental calculation. “Fifteen thousand Gil,” she came up with eventually.
“…huh?” said all thirteen in perfect synchronisation.
“Three thousand for a party of three,” the attendant reeled off, all joviality gone from her voice. “Thirteen of you, counting pets and animals as one member each, meaning you will need five tickets to enter. Have a nice day.”
“Oh, why argue?” said Ess resignedly. “Just pay it and let’s go in.”
Suddenly all eyes were on Cloud, who, by common consensus a while back, had been chosen to carry their money and items.
“Er,” he commented.
“Yeah?” Cid put in expectantly.
“I didn’t know it would be so much!” Cloud wailed. “And they were selling some good stuff down there… Look!” He held his sword aloft. “I got a new weapon!”
“So how much have we got?”
Cloud did a quick count. “One thousand, three hundred and four Gil,” he announced after a few seconds.
“Well, that really is unfortunate,” the attendant began, “but -”
“Might I have a word?” the Author enquired. “One to one?”
“Of course, dear sir.”
“Thank you.” The Author motioned for the others to leave the two of them alone, and they did, after a few pointed glares at certain members. He leaned closer and put one arm round the girl’s shoulders in a comradely manner.
“Tell me,” he murmured conspiratorially, “have you heard of a certain I, Caroussis?”
She nodded. “The Shinra finance guy. Yeah, why?”
“Well… I happen to know he’s been put in charge of planning the annual Shinra day trip this year. You know, when all the management down tools for the day and go enjoy themselves at a beach or hotel somewhere. Now, there are lots and lots of executives in that company, and I could always put in a good word for this place. If the staff turn out to be friendly enough. Follow me?”
“You?” The girl laughed curtly. “How would you know someone like that?”
“I’ll demonstrate.” From behind his back the Author produced a mobile phone and deftly tapped a number into it. He held it to his ear and waited.
“Yes?” said a harsh voice from it. “Who are you, and what do you want?”
“Caroussis? It’s me.”
“Oh.” The sheer joy of speaking to the Author was clear from I,’s tone. “What now?”
“I just need to show someone that you and I are really friends, that’s all.”
“Really.” Caroussis sighed. “The privilege will not last if you keep this up. Good day.”
The Author was about to comment when he heard an indistinct voice from the other end say, “So, is this that Author person, then?”
“Shut up and get back to bed,” I, snapped. “I, will have need for you later.”
He hung up.
The Author gave the attendant a brief smile. “See? That’s about as friendly as he gets.”
“Er… right, sir.” The girl raised her voice for the benefit of the others. “So that’s… five tickets, valid until you leave the premises, for however long you wish to stay. Here you are, sir. Have a nice stay.”
“How did you manage that?” Nanaki enquired as the group convened once more and wandered through the huge gaping moogle’s mouth that made up the entrance to the Gold Saucer.
“I just have a way with words,” the Author explained knowledgeably. “I am the -”
BOOM!
“Da hell was tha’?” Barret exclaimed as the entire room shook violently, throwing Aeris off her feet. Unsurprisingly, she landed in the Author’s arms, and the two of them shared a Moment before realising that now probably wasn’t the best time.
Perigee hurried back to the entrance hall, and was somewhat taken aback. Already there was a cordon round the cable car, and a couple of mechanics in grease-stained outfits were half-visible underneath it.
“What’s going on here?” he asked.
“I’m terribly sorry, sir,” the attendant said, showing no signs of recognition, “but we’re experiencing technical difficulties with the car. I don’t think it’ll be ready until the morning. Don’t worry, though, all guests are being provided with free accommodation in our on-site luxury hotel.”
Perigee thought about this. Must have been because they’d all left the screen… but why this now? That was only meant to happen when they went to the Saucer to pick up the… Keystone…
Oh.
“Slight problem,” he announced, heading back to the Central Square where the others were waiting. “The car’s broken down. We’re stuck here for the night.”
“Oh, damn,” Mr. Big said sarcastically. “You mean we’re trapped in a theme park with nothing to do until the morning? How will we manage?”
“We do have to go get this Keystone,” Roch reminded him.
“Well, that won’t take all of us, will it? And it won’t take all night, either. I say some of you guys go find this Keystone thing, and the rest of us can go have fun.”
“I second that!” Kasuto put in instantly.
“That is actually a decent point,” Perigee agreed. “Okay, er… Cloud, Barret, you want to come with me to get the Keystone?”
“Oh, I say, old bean,” the Major put in, “don’t leave me out of this! This Keystone whatsit sounds bally important, you know. Better let an experienced old boy handle it, what?”
“I don’t think -” tried Perigee.
“Why not?” Cloud cut him off. “Sounds like a good idea to me. Barret?”
“Uh, yeah, wha’ever.”
“So it’s decided then,” Cloud told Perigee. “Where do we go?”
“Follow me in a second,” Perigee ordered resignedly. “Er… the rest of you, some of you had better go make sure they’ve got enough rooms for us. I guess everyone else can just wander around for the evening.”
“I’ll go sort it out,” Ess volunteered. “Roch, you come with me.”
“Yeah, I’ll tag along,” Cid added. “I want to make sure they don’t give me some closet or something.”
“I, too, will accompany you,” concurred Nanaki. “I have no desire to sample the attractions of this place.”
“Then we get to go have fun?” Kasuto asked, just wanting to make sure. Perigee nodded. “Woohoo!”
“So, babe,” Mr. Big said smoothly, bounding over to Tifa’s shoulder and waggling his eyebrows at her, “how’d you like to go have a good time?”

“Sapphire pendant: rumoured to be able to release magical seals,” read Cloud, starting at one end of the display case and working his way round. “Crystal shard: supposedly belonged to the legendary Hero of Light… Medallion: bears an insignia of a roaring lion… Fish: a rotten fish…” Cloud looked up. “Wow, Dio’s got a lot of cool stuff here!”
“Yeah, but it’s just the Keystone we’re after,” Perigee reminded him. “It’s got to be in here somewhere, unless Dio’s put it somewhere else.”
He realised afterwards that it was a bit of a daft thing to have said.
For some reason, adjoining the Saucer’s famous Battle Square was a nondescript little room, in which Dio kept his prized possessions on display for the general public’s approval. And in general the public did approve, although Perigee wasn’t entirely sure why a fish was on display. Must be a Key Item, he decided. For that matter, all the things in here looked kinda familiar…
“Yo!” Barret called over. “This it?”
Perigee wandered over and read the plaque by the item in question. “Keystone: smooth round stone with connections to the Cetra. Yes, Barret, I think this is what we want.”
“Yo, bros!” A relatively well muscled man came striding into the room, wearing nothing but a loose-fitting pair of swimming trunks and, as the cliché goes, a wide grin. “I see you’re finding my collection too groovy, right?”
“Jolly good, what?” the Major agreed from the far end of the display case, inspecting what was, apparently, the, ‘Einlanzer: a holy sword of the Dragoons.’ “All bally impressive!”
“You’re Dio, aren’t you?” Cloud asked.
The stranger nodded. “Yeah, that’s me, ya know. This here’s my very own hangout. Just too cool, isn’t it?”
“We need to ask a favour of you,” Cloud continued, either deciding the question wasn’t worth answering or - more likely - so set on getting his request in that everything else seemed unimportant in comparison.
“Yo?”
“We need to borrow the Keystone.”
“Hmm…” Dio considered this. “It’s worth a bundle, ya know… Brought me hours of enjoyment… Still, I guess you bros’ll do more with it than me. You want it, it’s yours… on one condition.”
“Wha’?” Barret blurted out. “C’mon, we need it!”
“I’m bored,” Dio explained. “I want one o’ you bros to amuse me… in the Battle Square.”
“Oh, that’s no problem,” said Cloud dismissively. “I’ll do that. Easy.”
“Not so fast, bros,” Dio cut him off, pointing. “I want… you to do it.”
“Me?” The Major puffed out his chest. “I say, what a privilege, what? I’ll give those blighters in there what ho, eh? Haha!”
“The black wind howls…” muttered Perigee.

“Oh, wow!” Kasuto hurtled towards the nearest arcade machine. “There are like, so many games here!”
The other four watched her as she practically ricocheted off each game, emitting an endless stream of, “Wow!”s and, “Yeah!”s. None of them were too bothered about the flashing screens and hideous synth tunes. Aeris and Tifa had never had a chance to try out these new ‘video’ games, as they were called, and to be honest could think of better ways to spend their time, the Author had only ever been good at adventure games, which didn’t work very well in arcades, and Mr. Big simply took one look around at the punters already playing and decided that no one here would present enough of a challenge.
“I wonder if there’s more further on?” Tifa mused. “I hope it’s not all games like this.”
“Read your fortune, pretty ladies?”
The comment came from a strange looking creature. If one imagined a moogle (a fluffy white cat-thing with wings, for the uninitiated), then stretched it to about four times its natural width and attached a black cat with a megaphone to the top of its head, then one would have a reasonable idea of what this thing looked like. It bounded awkwardly towards them, stopped a few feet away, and both cat and moogle waved happily.
“The name’s… er… Cait Sith!” it explained. “I’m a fortune teller! Um… read your fortune? Anyone?”
“How much?” asked the Author suspiciously.
“Oh, no charge! Everything’s free around here… oh no, it isn’t, is it? Well, I’m free. Read your fortune?”
“You sound like a broken record,” Mr. Big remarked.
“I know!” Aeris decided, taking the Author’s hand. “Read our fortune.”
“Our?” repeated the Author.
“Oh, it’s okay, I can do two people at once. I think. Um… wait a second…” The moogle suddenly began flailing its arms around, nearly toppling Mr. Big from Tifa’s shoulder. A couple of seconds later it stopped, and held out a hand. From a small slit in its wrist came a long strip of ticker tape, curling up in its palm.
The cat ripped it off and read it. “You will meet a tall, dark stranger. Ancient samurai philosopher Po Lti-Osu say, ‘When tlee fall on woods, can’t see woods for tlee.’ Your favourite colour is blue. For your reference, today you will have: No Lunch.”
“I don’t call that much of a fortune,” Tifa said.
“Yeah, me neither.” The moogle scratched its head. “Er… perhaps I did something wrong. Let me try again.”
This attempt read, ‘He shall appear from an eastern land far across the sea. A young man who has yet to know his potential. This potential is a power that could either destroy him or realise his will. His courage shall determine his fate.’
“Very profound,” said Mr. Big, nodding.
“But still not exactly relating to us,” the Author pointed out.
“Don’t worry,” Cait reassured them, “I’ll get it right this time. Here goes…”
The moogle threw its arms around as before, only far more violently this time. But it didn’t stop, even as the tape began to wind out from its wrist. Its fevered motions grew faster and faster, and plumes of black smoke began to rise from its back.
The group all took one step backwards.
For a brief moment the cat took on a terrifyingly evil look, as its eyes glowed bright red. Then the excitement obviously became too much for it, and it exploded. Loudly, and at great length. Tifa neatly swept Aeris’ legs from under her and threw herself on the Author, bearing the two of them down to the floor as cogs, springs and more complicated bits of metal flew in all directions.
When the smoke cleared, which took some time, all that remained of Cait Sith was a collection of gears and electronics, a lot of white fluff, and a stunned man in a coat.
“How come you guys get to have all the fun?” Kasuto complained, wandering back to see what they’d been up to. “Do you think he’s dead?”
“I’m… fine, really…” the man muttered, mainly to himself. “I… wonder what I did… wrong this time…”
“Wow, I never knew you two were like that,” Mr. Big commented, gazing at the Author and Tifa and grinning widely. The Author had landed on his back, and was now staring up into Tifa’s eyes, barely a couple of inches from him. The two of them disentangled themselves from each other, with a certain amount of embarrassment, after which the Author picked Mr. Big up by one ear and shook him vigorously.
“Ok-k-kay, I t-t-take it-t-t allllll back-k-k!” the rabbit managed. “Tha-a-at c-c-comm-m-ment-t-t was unc-c-called f-f-for!”
The Author stopped shaking him, smoothed off his ruffled fur, and put him back on his shoulder where he belonged. In the meantime, Tifa had helped Aeris back to her feet, and the three girls were now inspecting the man who had apparently risen from the moogle’s ashes.
“So, just who is…” the Author began, joining them. “Oh, right. It’d have to be you, wouldn’t it?”
Warbling Croft sat up, with a certain amount of help from Aeris. “Someone’s got to be me,” he said philosophically. “Hi. Who are you?”
The Author sighed. “Okay, these lovely ladies here are Tifa, Aeris, and Kasuto. Girls, this here is Warbling Croft. Yes, that is his first name.”
“Another old friend?” Aeris prompted, a teasing smile playing across her lips. The Author nodded. “They do seem to keep popping up, don’t they?”
The Author fixed her with his gaze and spoke softly. “There is a reason for that,” he said, “and someday I will tell you. But not today.”
“So what do you do, Mr. Croft?” Tifa asked politely.
“Me? I’m a Shinra spy, I think. They only promoted me to Undercover Operative a few days ago.”
“A spy?” repeated Tifa, suddenly cautious. “Spying on who, exactly?”
“Um…” Croft considered this. “I think I’m meant to be spying on you guys. I think I should be trying to follow you around or something.”
“Well, that seems a good argument to me,” the Author put in. “Welcome to the group.”
“Now just wait a minute!” Tifa objected. “If he’s a spy, we can’t have him coming around with us!”
“Oh, it’s okay,” said Croft happily. “I’m not a very good spy.”
“Can’t he come along?” Kasuto pleaded. “He’s fun! He made that cat thing blow up.”
“It was an accident!” Croft exclaimed. “They only gave me a few hours to learn how to use that thing, and there are… were so many buttons and levers in there… And whose idea was it to put a self-destruct button in anyway?”
“No,” said Tifa firmly. “We can’t have a spy tagging along with us. Who knows what information he’ll be passing back to Shinra?”
“Oh, not much,” Croft reassured her. “I’ve forgotten their telephone number.”
“So what exactly will you be doing while you’re following us?”
“Looking like I’m doing my job, and joining in with all the fun and exciting adventures you’ll be having,” Warbling Croft said matter-of-factly.
“But…”
“Pleeeaaase?” said all five others at once.
“Oh, okay,” Tifa capitulated resignedly. “But you’d better not let Barret find out about it. He won’t be happy.”
“Yay!” Kasuto leaped a couple of feet into the air. “Now we’ve sorted that out, let’s go and have some fun!”

From within the Battle Square cam a cry of, “Oh, I say!” followed shortly by an unhealthy sounding CRACK, the BOOM of a particularly nasty spell going off, and a loud WHUMP.
“Ouch,” said Cloud, peering through one of the windows into the arena. “That looks awfully painful.”
Something green and wet went splat against the glass.
“What I don’t get,” Perigee announced, to anyone who happened to be listening, “is how he’s still going. I mean, his weapon’s broken, his armour’s gone, so’s his accessory, he’s got no materia, and his health has been halved. Twice. He should have lost two or three rounds ago.”
“No worries ‘bout that,” Dio said coolly. “I’m groovy with just kickin’ back and watchin’.”
A THUMP that shook the floor.
“Victory!” announced a monotone voice from within the arena. “Your current winnings are: 16,000 points! Your current estimated chance of success is: 3.7%! Your lucky number is: 3.7! Continue?”
There was a brief pause, followed shortly by an, “Oh, off course, old bean!”
“He’s going on to the last round?” Perigee said in disbelief. “He can’t possibly do it at this level!”
“He’s kickin’, I’ll give him that.” Dio produced a small walkie-talkie from somewhere about his person - none of those present wanted to enquire exactly where. He flicked a switch on it and held it to his ear. “Yo, Sharky? You there?”
There was a pause while the voice on the other end said something incomprehensible at great length.
“Glad to hear it,” Dio went on. “Look, bring out number 24601, okay? Yeah, yeah, I know, but this guy in there’s just too much. I want to see if he’s as seriously chilled as he seems.”
“24601?” Perigee repeated as Dio returned the device to wherever it had come from.
Dio nodded. “We keep two sets of monsters in there,” he explained. “Normally I only let real veterans go up against the second lot, but your bro in there looks like he’s done this before.”
“Enjoyin’ his performance, then?” Barret enquired pointedly.
“Oh, yes, of course. How forgetful of me.” From the same place as the walkie-talkie came a small bronze key. “Keystone’s yours, bros. Feel free to go get it.”
“It’s awlright, I’m goin’,” Barret said, intercepting the key on its way to Cloud. “Be right back.”
“Final battle!” came a muffled yet distinctly monotonous voice from the arena. “Constructed using the top secret blueprints from Shinra Project #24601… The Gold Saucer Battle Square presents… the Proud Clod!”
“Hey, I want to see this!” Cloud exclaimed, hurrying to the window. “What’s a Prod Cloud?”
“Prood Clud,” Dio corrected him. “It’s -”
“Wow!”
Cloud had spotted the enemy in question. It was twenty, maybe thirty feet high, and completely dwarfed the Major, who wasn’t all that tall anyway. From every one of its blood red limbs, various guns protruded at all sorts of weird angles. On its back was a huge artillery cannon, such as might be used to level a small town.
The Major didn’t look all that worried, although that was probably just because he didn’t realise how hopeless a situation he was now in.
“Begin,” announced the system voice, and the Major was promptly hit with a rain of bullets, lasers, rockets, flamethrowers, and several more esoteric weapons that didn’t really fall into any conventional category.
When the smoke finally cleared and the floor was beginning to solidify once more, he could be seen standing in exactly the same place. He was wobbling noticeably, and his moustache was quite definitely charred, but he was standing his ground.
“Oh, I say, old boy,” he said menacingly, adjusting his leather hat, “that wasn’t called for at all.”
From the arena emanated a series of quiet pings, the sort of sound one might expect a rusted and blunt battle sabre to make if struck repeatedly against the right leg of a thirty foot robot. It was followed shortly by a hail of firepower.
This was repeated two or three times more until the Major finally hit his limit break.
“Right ho, old chap,” he growled, orange light spilling out from his fists as he reached over his shoulder with one hand to grasp the ancient weapon that always resided there, “about time you had a taste of the… Blunder… Oh, I say, I haven’t got it, have I? Well, then…”
Quite a crowd had gathered to watch this old lunatic with no clue when to stop, and had been chatting amiably to one another or, in a couple of cases, making bets as to whether he’d make it through the next round. Now, though, they all abruptly shut up and merely watched.
The Major waved his sabre above his head and charged forward with a bellow of, “Tally ho! For the old country, what?”
Cloud and Perigee stared in growing amazement as a variety of metallic noises echoed from the arena. They seemed to be growing more and more distorted, as if cogs were coming loose and metal panels were buckling.
“He’ll never do it,” said Perigee knowledgeably. “I mean, that thing’s going to… It’s about to fire. It’s going to blow his head off. It’s… How on earth did he get it to shoot itself?”
THUMP.
“I told you he was good,” Cloud informed him. “Look, he’s got one of its arms off already.”
“Yes, but… Why is he trying to hit it in the face with it?”
“He’s managing it, though.”
Thunk.
“There goes the other arm.”
Clunk.
“And one…”
Clunk.
“…both legs.”
WHUMP.
“It’s on the ground now,” Cloud commentated. “He’s almost finished… It’s about to fire its main cannon! It’s going to fire! It’s going to fire! It’s going to…”
SPROING.
“How did he do that?”
Doink. Plib. Plib. Plib.
There was an all-engulfing silence in the Battle Square. Cloud got the feeling that, if he kept up his commentary now, he’d get lynched and probably thrown out of the Saucer, whether the cable car was working or not.
CRUNCH.
“Victory!” the system voice, a hint of surprise creeping into its otherwise expressionless tone. “Your current winnings are: 32,000 points! Congratulations! You win!”
The Major stood unsteadily in the middle of a large pile of robotic bits and pieces. A gear stuck out from under his hat, and what looked like a fan belt was looped round his arm. But he was standing, and from the wide grin covering his face, he looked jolly pleased with himself, if rather blackened.
Behind him, the door to the square slid smoothly open.
“Your points may be exchanged at the desk to your left as you leave the arena,” went on the voice. “Have a nice day. Do come back again.”
Cloud, Perigee and Dio were waiting outside as he meandered happily out, to the sound of rapturous applause from the admiring crowd.
“That was amazing!” Cloud exclaimed. “You’re really good! Can you teach me to fight like you?”
“Oh, right ho, old bean!” the Major replied cheerfully. “Bound to be time later, don’t you worry, eh? I’ll get you jolly well sorted out and ready for battle, what?”
“I’ve gotta say, bro,” Dio cut him off, “you did pretty smooth in there. Cheers for keeping me amused. You can keep the battle points, if you want. Thirty-two big ones… You could buy Omnislash for that.” He gave them a cryptic smile. “You might even be able to use it. Ciao, bros.”
“I wonder what he meant by that?” Cloud mused.
“Omnislash is a legendary move,” said Perigee. “Apparently -”
“It’s a limit manual?” Cloud asked, his eyes beginning to light up. Perigee nodded.
“What in the blazes is a limit manual, old chaps?”
“Sometimes when a very powerful warrior comes up with a really nice technique,” Cloud explained, “they write it down so other people can have a go at learning it later. You have to be really, really good to be able to understand it, though.”
“Ah. Sounds like a jolly wheeze, old boy. I’ll go fetch the dashed thing.”
The Major scuttled off to the prize desk, and Perigee and Cloud exchanged glances.
“What’s up with him?” Perigee wondered.
“You don’t like him?”
“No, it’s not that.” Perigee shook his head. “It’s just that I’m not sure he’s really suited to saving the world or anything.”
“He’s a good fighter,” Cloud objected.
“Yes, but…”
“Here we go, old beans!” the Major called, hurrying back over with a rather hefty volume in one hand. “One Omniwhatsit, straight from the front lines, what?”
Cloud took it from him and began flicking through the pages. “It looks like a sword move,” he mused. “It’s too advanced. I can’t use this yet.”
Perigee smiled wryly.
“Let me have a look at the blighter,” the Major said, taking it from Cloud and peering short-sightedly at the first page. “Doesn’t look too bally difficult, what? Think I’ll have a good read in bed tonight. Looks jolly interesting. I’ll be using this Omniwhatsit on those critters out there soon enough, don’t you worry, what? Haha.”

Chapter VIII	The Music of the Night

Authors’ note: The contents of this chapter have been classified P for Pointless. They will have next to no impact on the rest of the plot, and are written for amusement only. Please do not take this chapter seriously in any way whatsoever.
The authors
Writing of Wrongs

The Author smiled contentedly as he leaned back in his comfortable armchair and put his feet up on his bed. Ah… he had to admit, he really was enjoying this story so far. Nice characters, not too serious, and the storyline had decent drive to it. And, of course, there was Aeris.
He still wasn’t really sure how he felt about Aeris… actually, that was an outright lie. He knew perfectly well how he felt about her, but at the moment he didn’t want to admit it to himself. He was here to protect her, and the last thing he needed was personal matters getting in the way and clouding his judgement. Because he sure as hell wasn’t going to let anything happen to her.
He sighed. It was quite late now – only about eleven o’clock, but that can seem quite late when you know you’re going to be woken up at the crack of dawn – but he really didn’t feel like sleeping. There were still too many thoughts flying round his head.
There was a small desk up against one wall, and a few sheets of paper scattered across it bore testament to the thinking he had done in the hour or so since he’d come in to get settled down. Spread across the leftmost few sheets – each headed, ‘Mission’ – was a series of words or questions, each one circled and linked to others. In the very centre was simply, ‘FG?’ and around this were, ‘Aeris,’ ‘Sephiroth,’ ‘Jenova,’ and, ‘Cloud.’ ‘Perigee,’ was written below these, but had been crossed out.
The question that had obviously been foremost on his mind was scribbled at the bottom of one sheet: ‘How does FG know about LTF?’ A few suggestions were written underneath: ‘Ex-agent?’ ‘Helped by Writer? – stop God playing games?’ and ‘Creature that can see through reality? – Jenova?’ were the only three that had not been rejected.
It seemed the Author had given up on this, because no conclusion was written down, and the next sheet after these bore a simple table, headed, ‘Plushy list.’ It had ten columns, labelled, ‘Level 1,’ through, ‘Level 10.’ At the top of the third column was, ‘Crono,’ while, ‘Gilgamesh,’ was halfway down the Level 8 column and, ‘Schala,’ was right at the bottom of column nine. The Author wasn’t entirely sure why he’d put them where he had. It had just seemed the right thing to do at the time.
He was very proud of having spotted the Crono plushy. He doubted anyone else had even noticed the cowled figure drop it while Roch was busy duelling with Jenova, or that they had seen him dart over and pick it up. But he had, and if he hadn’t been trying to complete the whole set he would have been rather disappointed that it was only a level 3 one.
The Author sat up wearily. He really should try and get to sleep – it was difficult enough for him to get up in the mornings, and…
He stopped and stayed perfectly motionless. From his wardrobe had come a very faint sound. For some reason, he instantly identified it as the fizzling noise a stick of dynamite makes when lit.
Moving with the stealth of a ninja and the speed of a snail, he crept over to the wardrobe and waited by it, his hand on the door. Then, in one swift motion, he hauled it open and reached in.
“Aha!” he exclaimed, pulling out a Gopher, who gave him a sheepish look and hurriedly blew out the fuse on his dynamite.
“Er… hey there!” he said, trying to sound innocent.
“What exactly are you doing now?” the Author enquired coldly.
Gopher sighed, making a noise very much like a gale whistling through the leaves of an extensive plantation. “Shtill don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m shtuck.”
“Shtuck? I mean, stuck? Hmm…” The Author pondered this. “How did you get here?”
“Can’t remember. I think I’ve alwaysh been here.”
“Ah.” The Author nodded. “I see.”
“What d’you shee?”
“This means one of two things,” the Author explained. “Either something is seriously going wrong with the plotline, causing references and characters from outside to find their way into the story, or whoever’s writing this is just messing around. Quite possibly both.”
“Makesh shenshe,” mused Gopher. “After all, I’m not in –”
“Yes, you have said before.”
“Oh. Sho how do I get back t’Hundred Acresh?”
The Author shrugged. “Not really sure if you can. You’ve basically got to hang around until the book’s finished, and then when everyone’s stopped reading you can do pretty much what you want.” He brightened up. “Hey, if you can’t get back, at least that means people are still reading this.”
“You’ve losht me,” said Gopher matter-of-factly.
“Sorry, just thinking aloud.” The Author looked thoughtful for a moment. “You know, seeing as you’re stuck here, how’d you like to help out? Your skills could be quite usheful… damnit… useful.”
“How would I do that, shonny?”
“Well, to put it simply, you sit around until I need you, when you do what I say.”
Gopher nodded sagely. “I can do that.”
“But can you promise to stop turning up all over the place?”
“I’ll try.”
“Good.” The Author pointed towards the small window, through which rather pleasant moonlight could be seen filtering in. “You can use that window for your exit, if you want.”
“Oh, thanksh, shonny!” Gopher waddled over, leaped up onto the windowsill, and shoved the window open. He turned and waved happily at the Author. “I’ll be sheeing you waaaaaaaahhh…”
An expression of resignation tinged with amusement on his face, the Author shut the window once more and turned to the bed.
He was just about to collapse face first, still dressed, onto the inviting mattress, when someone knocked nervously on his door.

Cloud couldn’t believe his luck. Half an hour ago he’d been sitting moping in his room, with no prospects for the night other than to sample the Gold Saucer’s extensive minibar selection, and now here he was out and about with a very attractive girl. At least it looked now like Tifa had forgiven him about the whole Nibelheim/Ess affair, although it seemed Ess hadn’t yet. But, Cloud decided, worrying about that could wait ‘til the morning. For now, he was content to just enjoy the moment.
Tifa, too, was having a pleasant time. The two of them had explored the Speed Square and had just finished sampling the delights of the Wonder Square, where Cloud had done the traditional thing and won her a soft toy from one of those mechanical arm games. The ones with a claw with the grip of a bunch of bananas, which always drops the toy halfway to the chute. She smiled at the thought. He must have set that one up earlier, because the toy bore more than just a passing resemblance to her. In fact, the likeness was simply uncanny.
She had been hoping that Cloud might open up to her a bit tonight, and he had, to some extent. Not quite the, ‘There was never anything between Ess and me. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted, Tifa,’ she’d been hoping for, but this was better than before.
“So, what now?” asked Cloud as the two of them walked, arm in arm, towards the ridiculous transport tubes that connected the Gold Saucer’s various Squares.
“Sir,” said a youngish staff member, standing around and trying to look cheerful, “there’s a play on at the Event Square every night.” He glanced briefly at his watch. “I think it’ll be starting pretty soon.”
Cloud and Tifa exchanged glances.
“Yeah,” said Tifa eventually. “Why not?”
There was a large group of ten or so people hanging around in the Event Square’s reception area. They were clustered around the receptionist’s desk, where one of them obviously had a problem with something.
“So how did you get up here in the first place?” he was saying. “I mean, you’d look ridiculous even if that was one of their entertainer suits, but as it isn’t…”
“Look, give me a break, will you?” came the reply. “I’m just the receptionist, okay? Not exactly my idea of a good time either. Now why don’t you just go in and sit down like a good boy, and I’ll see if I can drop something heavy on you during the performance, how about that?”
“Hah. I wouldn’t put that past you.”
“Oh, leave me alone.”
The discussion seemingly over, the group began to disperse slightly and move away from the desk.
“Hi, Barret,” said Cloud as he pushed his way through it to the receptionist. “Now, we’d like… Barret?”
“Yo!” Barret replied cheerfully. “Joinin’ us for da show?”
“Us?”
Actually, now he came to think about it, the whole group did look familiar. In fact, it appeared that everyone else… well, now Cloud and Tifa had arrived, everyone had convened in the reception area at the same time. Someone with more sense than any of those present might have wondered about that.
“Oh, hi, guys,” Cloud said. “What’s up?”
Perigee pointed to the receptionist. “Nothing, really. I was just surprised that he got a job here.”
Cloud inspected the individual in question. He didn’t look that well - he was a rather sickly purple colour all over. And his arms lacked definite joints. And there were eight of them.
“He’s an octopus,” he observed.
“‘Fraid so,” said the octopus. “Name’s Ultros. Temp’ry staff member only. Thought I’d hang around here and see what the place’s like.”
“He built up a debt in the Wonder Square,” interrupted Perigee, “and now he’s got to pay it off by working here.”
“What was an octopus doing in the Wonder Square?” wondered Cloud out loud.
“Everyone’s gotta relax sometimes, haven’t they?” said Ultros testily. “Look, you guys’re together, right? Then why don’t you go in, find yourselves some seats and get outta my face. Partic’ly you,” he pointed at Perigee with three tentacles. That guy unnerved him. From his expression when he’d first come in to the room, you’d have thought he recognised Ultros from somewhere.
“Yeah, let’s go sit down,” Cloud decided. “It’ll be nice to watch a play all together.”
“Yeah…” said Tifa quietly.
As Cloud and Tifa led the way into the huge theatre, they were intercepted by an attendant dressed in an outrageous yellow uniform. It matched the décor of the Square, though.
“Congratulations! You’re our 50th… um…” The door attendant’s eyes widened as the rest of AVALANCHE entered the large hall. “Hey now, hey now! We can’t allow such a large group in here! You’d be too disruptive.”
Cloud scratched the back of his head. “Hmm… couldn’t we just compensate you for any trouble?”
“Well… that could work. Okay!” The attendant smiled broadly. “That’ll be 300,000 Gil, please!”
“Three hundred thousand?!”
“That’s being generous, mind you. There’s no telling what sort of mess you’d make.”
“Excuse me,” interrupted the Author. “This sign says that couples get in free.”
“Yes…” conceded the attendant cautiously.
“Well then. We’re a group of seven couples.”
“What couples?”
There was a crowded moment as AVALANCHE split into units of two. Aeris slipped her hand into the Author’s, which distracted Mr. Big long enough for Kasuto to grab him. Tifa managed to get her arms around Cloud before he could make his way over to Ess, who frowned slightly and took Perigee’s outstretched hand.
“Don’t get any ideas,” she muttered in his ear.
The Major barrelled over to Roch and took up a defensive stance, ready to protect such a small helpless old chap from any danger. Croft and Cid took a look at the remaining choices and wisely picked each other, leaving only…
“Ah, dang,” complained Barret. “I got the dog.”
“Nanaki,” said Nanaki.
“Uh… I don’t…” stammered the attendant.
“Is there something wrong?” asked the Author smoothly.
“Not… no, there doesn’t seem to be anything…” The attendant continued to look puzzled for a while, then his eyebrows unfurrowed and he regained his original sunny disposition.
“Congratulations! You’re our 50th couple!” He smiled at the Author and Aeris. “Please come this way, there’s a special prize for you.”
“Oh, no, you don’t,” said Perigee. “We’re all together. Any prizes are shared between the lot of us.”
“But… but the boss…”
“Don’t worry,” reassured Tifa. “We’ll take responsibility.”
Those were the magic words.
“Right this way!” beamed the attendant.

The individual in charge of directing the plays put on in Event Square was an oldish man, in his early fifties, and was beginning to feel it. His hair was starting to show signs of greyness, and he was finding his daily walk to work was becoming… almost arduous.
There was a hesitant knock at the door. The director sighed. There was only one man he knew who was that reverent of him.
“Come on in, Bucket.”
The attendant pushed the door open cautiously. “S-sir, I’ve got the people to act in the play. Uh… they…”
“Well, show them in!” The director couldn’t help but have a momentary pang of fear. One day they’d get a couple who couldn’t act at all, and that would be the day they were ruined.
The first person through the door was Perigee. His eyes bulged, and he suddenly looked unwell.
“Hans? What the bleem are you doing here?”
“Roberts! What a pleasant surprise! I got separated from my team, and wound up here. It’s not a bad life. But…” he continued as AVALANCHE began to fill the room, “…I never knew that couples came in groups of more than two.”
“It’s a long story,” said Perigee.
“We got your door attendant all confused,” explained the Author.
“Okay, maybe it’s not such a long story.”
“Wait, wait,” said Tifa. “You know this guy, Perigee?”
“Um…” Oh, no… what can I say?
“We used to work together,” explained director Hans Niesentose, of Iota team. “That was a while ago, though. Please put that back.” The last remark was directed at Barret, who had picked up an antique jade figurine from the corner of Hans’ desk.
“What? You didn’t talk to Meshif?” asked Perigee incredulously.
Everybody looked at him.
Dang! Now I’m doing it! “Sorry,” he said. “I’m not quite sure why I said that.”
There was a short pause.
“Aaaaaanyway,” said Cloud finally. “We’re the winning couple. What prize do we get?”
“Well, originally the prize was the chance to play the leads in this evening’s play. But since we’ve only got one Evil Dragon King outfit, and we can’t have EDK kidnapping four princesses…”
“And since I’m not being a princess,” interjected Kasuto firmly, “we’ll have to think up something else.”
“We could…” began Mr. Big.
“No,” warned the Author.
“Or…”
“No.”
“But just one…”
“No.”
“Well,” said Hans thoughtfully, “I suppose there’s always this.”
As he reached for a desk drawer, there was what could be described as a bunching of literature. This, of course, is not the only possible description. Perigee could have given a half-hour dissertation about literary potentialities, collapsing waveforms and plot tunnelling. The Author would simply call it a cliché. Cloud might well talk about destiny, fate, or the will of the gods.
“This is what I’ve been working on during my time as director here,” continued Hans regardless. “It’s… a musical, of sorts. It’s still not right - I’m sure there’s something missing, but I just can’t place what it is. That’s why I haven’t had it shown. But,” he glanced at Perigee, who was desperately trying to avoid guessing what this was, “maybe you fellows can sort it out.”
Ess was the first to break the stunned silence. “Excuse me, a musical? You really expect a random group of fourteen people to all have musical talent?”
“Well, I’m sure you can all sing, can’t you?” asked the director.
There was a chorus of good-natured assent from everyone, even Barret.
“…right,” said Ess eventually.
“Well then. I’ll have copies of the script made, so you can all start learning your lines. Now we just need to sort out who’s playing who. Bucket!”
The attendant appeared in the doorway. It was becoming apparent that he fulfilled the roles of most of the Event Square staff.
“Here, make fourteen copies of this,” ordered Hans, handing the man the script.
“Yessir.” Bucket left.
“Okay. I’ll do a description of each of the characters, and anyone who wants the part can say so after the description. Ready?”
There was a pause.
“You have to say either Yes or No,” said Hans after a while. “Although if you say No, I’ll pester you until you give in.”
“Yes,” said Cloud.
“Right! In order of appearance: Terra Branford: A mysterious young woman, controlled by the Empire, and born with the gift of magic.”
“Um…” said Perigee, wide-eyed.
“I’ll do it,” said Aeris. “This is starting to sound interesting.”
Niesentose made a mark on a pad of paper he’d produced from somewhere.
“Next is Locke Cole: Treasure hunter and trail-worn traveller, searching the world over for relics of the past.”
“I like the sound of that one,” Cloud decided. “I’ll be the rugged yet handsome adventurer.”
“Okay.” Hans scribbled a second note below the first one. “Edgar Roni Figaro: The young king of Figaro Castle, ally of the Empire, and master designer of machinery.”
There was a brief pause.
“No one wants to be the king?” asked Hans, surprised.
Another pause.
“Oh, I’ll do it,” the Author said after a while. “Doesn’t bother me too much.”
“Thank you. Sabin Rene Figaro: Edgar’s twin brother, who traded the throne for his own freedom.”
“Me!” Perigee exclaimed, then went bright red under the combined force of everyone else’s surprised stares. “Um… I’ve just always liked him as a character, that’s all…”
“Moving on,” Hans cut him off hurriedly, keen to go on to the next part before any of the others started to wonder about Perigee always liking a character who he’d only just heard of. “Celes Chere: Product of genetic engineering, battle-hardened Magitek warrior, with a spirit as pure as snow.”
“I’ll do that one,” volunteered Croft. “I’m pure. Sort of. And I want to be a Magic warrior.”
“Celes is a female character,” Hans pointed out.
“Oh.”
“I’ll play her,” said Tifa softly.
“Good, good. This is working well, isn’t it?” Hans gave them a pleasant smile, then returned his attention to the cast list. “Cyan Garamonde: Faithful retainer of his family’s liege, with the courage and strength of 100 men. I assume you’d like to do this one, sir?”
“Oh, yes, absolutely!” Croft agreed. “I look brave and strong enough, don’t I?”
“Next…” said Hans tactfully.
This went on for a few minutes more, until everyone was sorted out. Everyone, that is, except Ess.
“But it’s the only part left!” said Cloud reasonably.
“Absolutely not.” Ess shook her head. “I am not playing the evil Emperor. There must be some other part I can have.”
Hans scanned down the sheet. “I’m afraid that’s everyone,” he told her sadly. “I’m sure we could find a position for you on the backstage crew or something, though.”
“That’s hardly the same!”
“Do you have a better suggestion?” said Hans pointedly. Ess looked down.
“No,” she said in a rather small voice.
“Right. Open the door, please.”
Ess did so, without really knowing why.
“Thank you.” Hans raised his voice. “Bucket!”
The sound of hurried footsteps approached down the corridor, and after a few seconds Bucket appeared and stuck his head round the door.
“Sir?” he asked breathlessly.
“We’re missing a Gestahl,” Hans informed him. “Go bring me the first guy you come across, okay?”
“Yessir.”
The footsteps receded once more. Hans was about to say something when they started coming back towards them again.
“My word,” he remarked mildly. “That was quick.”
Bucket entered shortly, propelling a tall suited man in front of him. The new recruit seemed none too pleased about being drafted into this, although there was also a fair amount of confusion in his expression.
“What is I, doing here?” he snapped. Behind him, the Author looked embarrassed and tried to hide his Summon Cameo Character materia. He hadn’t even meant to use it that time.
Hans put on his best ‘the customer’s always right’ smile and made to shake the man’s hand. “You, dear sir, have been selected from hundreds of possible candidates to play one of the leads in tonight’s play! This is a great honour!”
“I, feels he must inform you,” the man began, then happened to look round and spot the Author. “Oh. Suddenly everything becomes very clear indeed.”
The Author shrugged and mouthed, “Sorry.”
“Is that an acceptance?” Hans asked hopefully.
I, Caroussis sighed wearily. “Very well,” he muttered resignedly. “But I, is not happy.”

“I still can’t believe I didn’t get a part,” grumbled Ess.
“Look at it this way,” said Perigee. “There aren’t any female main parts left, so you’d have to play either a random NPC or… Shadow or somebody.”
“But still. Anyway, most of the parts aren’t very fitting. You’re a bodybuilder, Cloud’s a thief…”
“That’s TREASURE HUNTER!” shouted Cloud, who was getting into his part.
“…the Author’s a womanising king. It’s not like a female mysterious ninja with a dark past would be entirely out of place.”
“Look, I sympathise, I really do,” reassured Perigee. “But there’s nothing I can do about it. I’ve got to learn my lines, as well as keeping an eye out for that octopus. I know he’s going to try something.”

Kasuto, meanwhile, was bored. She’d learned her lines easily, and was now sitting on a bean bag watching the others with disinterest.
An idea struck her, and a wide grin spread slowly across her face. Now she just needed to find a pen…

*	*	*	*	*

Prologue
ORCHESTRA: ‘Final Fantasy’
Enter Prologue
PROLOGUE: Long ago, the War of the Magi reduced the world to a scorched wasteland, and magic simply ceased to exist. 1000 years have passed… Iron, gunpowder, and steam engines have been rediscovered, and high technology reigns… But there are some who would enslave the world by reviving the dread destructive force known as “magic.” Can it be that those in power are on the verge of repeating a senseless and deadly mistake?
Exit Prologue. Curtains open to a cliff scene. Enter TERRA, VICKS and WEDGE in Magitek Armour.
VICKS: There’s the town.
WEDGE: Hard to believe an Esper’s been found intact there, 1000 years after the War of the Magi…
VICKS: Think it’s still alive?
WEDGE: Probably… judging from the urgency of our orders.
VICKS: And this woman, this… sorcerer. Why’s she here? I heard she fried 50 of our Magitek Armoured soldiers in under 3 minutes.
WEDGE: Not to worry. The Slave Crown on her head robs her of all conscious thought. She’ll follow orders.
Terra sat in her armour, trying to keep a vacant expression on her face. It wasn’t easy - the wind machine kept blowing her short green hair into her face, and it made her wait to sneeze.
The green hair was a wig, of course, but since her own hair was significantly longer, and hung down at the back, the overall effect was rather odd.
WEDGE: We’ll approach from the east. Move out!

COMMANDER: There she is! Get her!
Locke watched the soldiers progress slowly, momentarily at a loss. He’d left his sword offstage, and without its familiar presence he was having a hard time concentrating.
Something nudged him in the back of the leg, and said, “Kupo, innit?”
“Moogles? I didn’t know there were moogles in these caves,” said Locke thankfully, the next few lines being easy to remember.
MOOGLES: Kupo! Kupoppo!
“…you know what I’m sayin’?” added a rarely-seen black moogle, waggling its ears at him knowledgeably.
“What’s that? You want to help?”
“No, young Timmy’s fallen in the well, what do you think? Er… I mean, ‘kupo.’”
“Well then! Let’s kick those sons of submariners!”
They fight. The guards get the worst of it, and eventually…
COMMANDER: Retreat!
The moogles dance with joy at the victory.
“Well, thanks guys. We stopped that senseless and deadly mistake,” said Locke, quoting his script accurately. He remembered that line seeming rather unusual, but it was written in the script - scribbled in like a last minute correction, in fact - so he had to say it. After all, what else was a treasure hunter to do?

*	*	*	*	*

“…nobody asked you to save me. I was doing fine on my own!”
Terra and Locke were trekking across the Figaro Desert. Locke had said there was a friend of his living in the castle at its heart, so that’s where they were headed.
“Look, you were lying unconscious on the ground with twenty-something angry guards closing in on you.”
Offstage, Hans looked wide-eyed at his master copy of the script.
“They’re not sticking to the script?” he muttered disbelievingly.
“You’re surprised?” asked the Author, who’d been watching from nearby while he waited for his entrance. “I doubt any of them know all their lines, and they’re hardly professional actors. Besides, those two don’t really get on all that well, more’s the pity. You should just be thankful you didn’t cast Aeris as Celes.”
Hans paused while a hideous mental image flashed across his inner vision. He shuddered involuntarily.
“But still…”
The Author shrugged and inclined his head slightly towards the stage. Hans looked.
Onstage, Locke had now stolen Terra’s pendant, and she’d set his eyebrows on fire.

*	*	*	*	*

“Locke! Good to see you again!”
King Edgar Roni Figaro stood, leaving the book he’d been reading on his throne.
As the two shook hands, the orchestra began playing an upbeat tune. At least, most of the orchestra was upbeat, but the strings weren’t quite prepared and as a result ended up playing on the downbeat instead.
ORCHESTRA: “Casino Night”
“Hey there, old friend!” sang Locke, staying roughly in time and only marginally out of tune.
“How long has it been?” agreed Edgar tunefully.
“I really don’t know,” they both sang in harmony. “But what does it matter now?”
“We’re friends forever!”
“Back together again!”
“They can hold a note pretty well,” Mr. Big remarked to himself from the wings. “Shame they can’t hold the same one, though.”

Ess sat in the back row of the audience, glowering as the waves of cheerfulness from the stage washed diffidently over her.
“Psst!” hissed a voice. It’s rather difficult to do another with a “Psst!” other than to hiss it.
“Go away. I’m trying to be angry,” whispered Ess.
“Well, good for you,” continued the voice, undaunted. “Wanna help me jam up their musical?”

CHANCELLOR: Your majesty! General Kefka has been sighted approaching the castle!
Edgar rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “How long until he gets here?”
CHANCELLOR: He will most likely arrive within the next ten minutes.
“Then that doesn’t give us much time. Miss Terra, I’m part of a resistance movement dedicated to overthrowing the Empire. I’d… like to spend more time getting to know you before telling you all this, actually, but Kefka isn’t going to wait for us.”
Terra blinked. “You… want to get to know me? Why?”
“Well, firstly, I’m dazzled by your beauty, and secondly, you’ve got a wonderfully cheerful personality, so far as I can tell. I guess the fact that you’re an ex-Imperial agent and so highly suspicious would be a slight concern, but I don’t think much of its importance.” To his credit, he blushed slightly.
Terra opened and shut her mouth a couple of times, but couldn’t find anything to say.
“So the point is,” Edgar pressed on hurriedly, “Locke seems to think you’d make a good addition to the cause. I’m not asking you to join up yet - I’m just asking that you think about it, and accompany me to the headquarters on the off chance that you do decide to help us.”

*	*	*	*	*

General Kefka shielded his eyes against the glaring sun with one dark hand. Was the castle on the horizon getting any closer?
“*$@!# Edgar! Why the hell d’you gotta live way out in the desert?”
He turned to the two guards flanking him, and said, “Hey, ya foo’s! There’s SAND on my boots!”
The guards look at each other.
GUARD 1 (to GUARD 2): This amateur doesn’t have a clue.
GUARD 2 (to GUARD 1): Shall we?
They both nod.
GUARD 1: So what? Your boots are covered with mud, dirt, and who knows what else?
GUARD 2: Honestly, sir, I doubt a bit of sand will make much difference.
“……” muttered Kefka, temporarily beaten.

*	*	*	*	*

“General Kefka! How good of you to drop in,” said Edgar coolly.
ORCHESTRA: “Street Fighting Man”
“Well there’s jus’ one thing that I gotta say,
I’m Kefka, an’ I’m here to stay!
So watch yo’self, an’ stay outta my way!
A senseless an’ deadly mistake, huh!
Now we had this girl, but she got away,
An’ people are sayin’ that she came this way.
So hand her over, or you gonna pay!
A senseless and deadly mistake, huh!”
…said Kefka.
“A girl, eh?” mused Edgar, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, and desperately trying to look like nothing was amiss. “Well… there’s so many girls living in this castle that even /I/ wouldn’t notice one more or less. You’d have to give me time to interview them all, and that could take… well, weeks.”
“So what’s yo’ point?” asked Kefka suspiciously.
“My point is that you’d be better off concentrating your search efforts elsewhere, and leave me to look around here. I will personally inform the Empire if this girl is found.”
“I dunno…” The imperial general looked for the flaw in the argument, and nearly spotted it. “Aw, wha’ever. But I ain’t goin’ across that…”
“…scorching hot…” interjected Edgar quickly. It wouldn’t do to have the show stopped because of profanity. Not when there was the chance of a prize for doing well.
“…desert again today. Get some rooms for me an’ my men, an’ then tomorrow we gonna get goin’.”
CHANCELLOR: Right this way, sirs.
CHANCELLOR, KEFKA and GUARDS 1 & 2 exeunt, brushing past LOCKE as he enters.
“Hey, who’s the clown?” asked Locke.
Edgar chuckled. “A fair description. That was General Kefka, the…”
“/The/ General Kefka? The crazy loser who plays right-hand flunky to the Emperor?”
“Heh. Don’t let him hear you say that. He’d slit his own mama’s throat for a lot less than that.”
“Good thing I’m not his mama,” quipped Locke.
They both burst out laughing.

Not for the first time, Ess examined her motives. She’d always found that doing so was important – it was too easy to keep doing things out of habit, things that she no longer needed nor wanted to do anymore.
“Why are you in this job?”
Because it meant that she was working for God, which had all sorts of bonuses like immortality, (even if an agent got killed in one story, they’d just reappear back in Heaven where they’d wait until the rest of their team returned) eternal youth (age was more or less optional in her particular case anyway), as well as excellent job security. So long as you didn’t totally mess things up, there was no chance of being fired.
“Are you happy?”
As happy as could be expected, given the circumstances. In other words, not really.
“Where are you happy?”
……
…
..
Much as she hated to admit it – with Cloud. There was an irrepressible charm in his loveable slow thinking. Oh, she knew that it was all just part of the mechanics of the plot, and that it would all wear off the instant she left the story, but… did that really matter? Even if her happiness was artificial, it was still happiness, right?
Right?
“We’ll come back to that one later.”
Oh great. What had started as a clever literary device had degenerated into her simply talking to herself.
“Thinking, not talking. You don’t have speech marks.”
What?
“If you were actually talking, you’d have got some funny looks from that octopus by now. Well… funnier looks.”
This story’s complicated enough already, what with the Author’s bunch breaking in on us and all. Can you just go back to questioning my motives?
“Sure. Why are you helping the octopus out?”
She thought about it. It was, indeed, a distinctly mediocre idea. But… the anger was still there, the anger at people’s continued mindless stupidity. She knew she was being petty, but she didn’t care.
Ess opened her eyes, and saw Ultros still manhandl… octopustentacling the primary tool for their mission towards the service elevator that led up into the rafters high above the stage.
“You still haven’t got that up there yet?” she asked.
“It’s heaver than I thought,” said Ultros sheepishly. “At the rate I’m going, it’ll be another… ten minutes before I get this over there.”
“You’re hopeless. Look, I’ll help.” Ess got to her feet, brushing off the dust that pervaded all backstages, everywhere.

Later that night
CHANCELLOR: Your majesty, wake up!
Edgar sat up in his bed, looking surprisingly perky for one whose slumber had just been interrupted.
“What is it, Chancellor?” asked the King, without rubbing his eyes blearily.
CHANCELLOR: Fire, sire! I fear it is the Empire’s work.
Edgar looked around him, first at the stone walls, then at the stone floor, then the stone roof. “But… that doesn’t make any sense,” he said. “The entire castle’s made out of these same bricks.”
CHANCELLOR: The Empire has developed many arcane technologies recently, sire. Setting stones alight would now appear to be one of them.
Edgar knew when not to push things. “Apparently so.”
Edgar gets out of bed, and quickly pulls on his kingly robe before hurrying outside. KEFKA and the two GUARDS are there waiting for him, and assorted FIGARO GUARDS are running around failing to put out the fires.
“Kefka? What is the meaning of this? The Empire is at peace with the Kingdom of Figaro!” shouted the young king.
“Now listen up, Edgar, I ain’t messin’ wid’ you.
Dat girl be here, what ya’ told me ain’t true!
So I’ll burn down yo’ castle, ya’ crazy foo’!
A senseless and deadly mistake, UH!”
…said Kefka.
“Your grasp of logic never fails to amuse me, General,” commented Edgar. “You do realise that this is an act of war?”
“Yeah? You wanna’ fight? Yo’ soldiers ain’t got nothin’ on my… our Magitek Knights,” boasted Kefka confidently.
“To assume that, sir, would be a senseless and deadly mistake,” said Edgar, suddenly remembering one of his lines. He’d assumed that he’d be able to ad-lib most of it, so he’d only scanned the general plot.
Raising his voice suddenly, he called out. “Chancellor! NOW!”
EDGAR jumps over the castle wall, landing squarely on the saddle of a chocobo. LOCKE and TERRA enter on chocobos of their own, and the three of them ride off into the desert. Meanwhile, CHANCELLOR activates a mechanism that submerges the castle into the sand, leaving KEFKA and his GUARDS stranded in the middle of the desert.
Kefka said a monosyllabic word, but a sudden bellow from the wind machine drowned him out. All for the best, really.

VARGAS: Puny fools! How did you even think you could stand up to the might of my Wind Blade?
Edgar brought his head up enough to stare at the man standing over them. He was tough… alright, that was a completely pointless thing to say. Of course he was tough, he’d just beaten up the three of them – Terra, Locke and Edgar – with minimal effort and, while the fight had consisted primarily of everyone throwing themselves around and shouting, “Ouch!” at appropriate moments, that was quite an impressive feat. So… was it their fate to die here? At the hands of this madman?
“Stand back, Vargas! Get away from them!”
Silhouetted in the light from a spotlight stood a dark and mysterious figure. His back was turned to the audience, and on his simple karate gi was emblazoned a single kanji – incidentally, that for ‘pain.’ His bandana flapped in the gentle breeze created by the wind machine as he turned his head imperceptibly towards the audience. The light glinted off his eye.
VARGAS: Curses! Ryu! Foiled again!
The stranger laughed curtly. “Think again, Vargas. It is I, Sabin!”
From the wings came a muffled noise almost like suppressed laughter, followed shortly by clearly unsuppressed laughter.
Sabin glared at the source of the mirth. “And what exactly is so funny?”
“Oh, nothing,” said a small black voice from offstage. “Nothing at all, it’s not that you look like a real twit or anything, I think you make a great bodybuilder, and, er… kupo?”
Satisfied, Sabin returned his attention to the events in hand.
“You killed our master, didn’t you, Vargas?” he said darkly. “Why? What did he do to deserve it?”
VARGAS: He wasn’t suited to lead. Didn’t have the right mindset. He couldn’t see potential when it was right in front of his eyes.
“That’s why you killed him?”
VARGAS: That’s why I had to.
“Had to?” Sabin flexed his papier maché muscles. “My master? Your father?”
VARGAS: That’s right.
“That,” said Sabin darkly, “was a senseless and deadly mistake.”
They fight.
There it was again, mused Edgar absently as he crouched on the floor, ducking his head occasionally to avoid a particularly wild kick. There had been quite a lot of senseless and deadly mistakes in the script so far. Almost as if it was deliberate.
“You okay?” he asked concernedly, crawling over to Terra. She sat up weakly, and rotated her hair through a hundred and eighty degrees to get it out of her eyes.
“Owww…” she complained. “I think one of those punches actually connected.”
“I’m fine, thank you,” said Locke pointedly.
“Hmm.” Edgar nodded. “I think that guy’s getting a bit carried away.”
“Don’t worry, nothing broken, I’ll be okay, glad to see you’re so worried about me.”
SABIN and VARGAS both leap at each other. VARGAS launches into a flying kick, SABIN knocks his feet out of the way and delivers a fatal blow to VARGAS’ head. VARGAS falls to the ground, lifeless.
…supposedly, anyway. What actually happened was that the two of them collided heavily in mid-air and fell to the ground together, breathless if not lifeless.
“Oh!” exclaimed Vargas suddenly, clutching his chest. “You… you got me, Sabin… but you see… I… I am your…”
He toppled backwards into the orchestra pit, where he landed on the first violinist, causing him to skip a bar or so. This made very little difference, seeing as the rather eager musician was already at least five bars ahead of anyone else.
Back on stage, Edgar got to his feet.
“You’re my… brother?” he stated, disbelief apparent in his tone. “A heavily muscled martial artist? You?”
“Missed me?” Sabin replied happily, apparently trying to communicate something by means of eye signals. The message as far as Edgar could work out, however, was something along the lines of, ‘Help! There’s a rabid hornet eating my eyebrow!’
Edgar scratched the back of his head thoughtfully. It was a habit he’d picked up recently. “I think I’ve missed something, definitely,” he remarked, then shrugged. “Well, I guess we’re together now. Good to see you again, er… brother.”
There was an uncomfortable pause.
“Shall we go on to the next scene?” Sabin suggested after a few seconds.
“I think that might be wise.”

“I gotta thank you, I guess,” said Ultros. “You know, much as I hate you humans and all, I suppose there are definite advantages to having elbows. They definitely do make it easier to lift things, right?”
“Hngh,” agreed Ess, staggering along one of the rafters above the stage with Ultros’ pride and joy in both arms. Man, this thing was heavy. It felt like several tonnes. “Gnghh?”
“Nah, don’t think so,” Ultros replied calmly, ignoring the thinly veiled insult. “Okay, just haul it along there and stick it on the end of that beam over there. That’s… pretty much over centre stage, isn’t it?”
“Hrrgph.”
“Hey, what’re you doing with that?” Reno enquired, wandering up. “Gonna drop it on someone?”
“Yup.” Ultros beamed proudly. “We’re gonna jam up their musical!”
“Ooh. Can I join in?”
“No,” said Ess firmly, dumping the thing gratefully near the end of a rafter. “This is our fun. Go away, Reno.”
“Okay,” said Reno, and wandered off.
Ess dusted her hands off and inspected her handiwork. “So I guess we just wait for the right moment now, do we?”
“Yeah,” Ultros agreed. “There’s a big scene with all the characters in pretty soon, I think. Let’s do it then!”
“Right.” Ess nodded. “I’m going to go and find out how much longer we’ve got to wait. I’ll be back short… waitasecond. Was that Reno?”

Gestahl surveyed the three statues with a critical eye. Yes, there truly was power in those things. They may not be the most attractive things he had ever seen, and they were hardly well-made, but the energy contained within them… Well, it was holding this continent however many thousand feet above the ground, for a start. That was saying something.
“Yo, you can see for…” Kefka began, staring over the edge at the world below.
“…nautical…” put in Gestahl, masking whatever adjective his general used to describe the miles in question.
“…miles from up here!”
“Indeed.” Gestahl gazed out over his domain. “Dear Kefka, it does appear that –”
He hesitated, and shifted his attention to the group of heroes trying to make their way surreptitiously from offstage onto the floating island. They appeared to be having difficulty persuading one of their members to come on.
“Good lord,” the Emperor remarked casually. “An infestation. A so-called sorceress, a thief, a few fighters, a girl, and… what’s the dog?”
“Interceptor,” said Interceptor.
“These’re the guys what beat me last time!
Now that just ain’t on, they crossed da line!
Leave them to me, these guys is mine!
A senseless and deadly mistake, HUH!”
…said Kefka.
Gestahl shrugged. “Your decision.” He cast another pointed glance over at the heroes. “Are you going to come here or not?”
“Multitudinous apologies,” Cyan Garamonde called over. “Methinks perhaps dear Gau be a tad self-conscious of his attire. Er… was that medieval enough?”
“I’m not coming out in this rubbish!” came Gau’s voice from offstage.
“Oh, come on!” Locke exclaimed. “You’ve got to come on for the scene!”
“Why should I listen to you?”
Locke stamped his foot on the stage, causing a few of the plaster-of-paris rocks to fall apart. “Because I’m your father!”
There was a general surprised mumbling from the audience, and Locke turned to them. “No, not like that! Not in the play! Locke’s got nothing to do with Gau! It’s… er…”
“I’d stop digging if I were you,” said Mog sagely from Edgar’s shoulder. “That hole you’re in’s getting pretty deep.”
“Oh, fine, I’ll come on,” Gau said sulkily. “But I’m only doing it so we can get this over with.”
He stomped onto the stage, draped in animal hides. “Shiny,” he said, deadpan. “Shiny shiny. Shiny shiny shiny.” He sighed. “Mr Thou. Shiny.”
“Kid doesn’t really identify with his character, does he?” observed Setzer to Strago, who looked puzzled and said, “Eh, what what what? Didn’t catch that, old boy.”
Kefka stormed over to the group, realising he might have to wait some time for them to come over to him.
“Yo’ think yo’ can beat me, then why don’t yo’ try?
It’s near da end, an’ about time yo’ die!
Break out da barbecue, ‘cause yo’ gonna fry!
A senseless and deadly mistake, HUH!”
…said Kefka.
“Hah!” said Locke heroically. “You’ve destroyed enough, you two! We’re here to vanquish you, no matter how good you think you are!”
“Not impressed? Then let me demonstrate!
Watch now, ‘cause this’ll be yo’ fate!
If yo’ wanted to run, well now it’s too late!
A senseless and deadly mistake, HUH!”
…said Kefka.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Yo, Gestahl!”
“What?” snapped the Emperor irritably.
“Now Gestahl, ya, you had yo’ fun,
But yo’ time is up, ‘cause I’M da one!
Now you better run, or yo’ be well done!
A senseless and deadly mistake, HUH!”
…shouted Kefka.
Gestahl raised an eyebrow and folded his arms. “Indeed? And, pray, what do you intend to –”
A surprisingly realistic lightning bolt speared down from the heavens and hit the ground at his feet. There was a loud BANG, a puff of smoke, and when it cleared, he had gone.
“Now yo’ see jes’ how phat this is!
It’s my Light of Justice, an’ it never misses!
I pity da foo’ what touch my goddesses!
A senseless and deadly mistake, huh!”
…chortled Kefka.
Edgar stuck his hand in the air. “Just one thing?”
“Yeah?”
“Could you please stop speaking like that?”
“Stop this talk? That jes’ ain’t right!
You –”
“Yes, thank you, point taken,” said Sabin hurriedly.
“Aw, fine,” said Kefka resignedly. “Now… uh, where were we?”
“We were just about to vanquish you,” Locke informed him.
“Aw, okay.” Kefka cleared his throat. “So, yo’…”
“…nice…” interrupted Edgar hurriedly.
“…people…” added Cyan.
“…think you can just beat the…”
“…firmament…” suggested Terra.
“…outta me? Well, yo’…”
“…yellow…” put in Relm.
“…varmints…” said Gopher, and promptly fell down his hole once more.
“…can just…”
“…trundle…” tried Sabin.
“…off to your…” filled in Locke.
“…delocalised…”
“…mud huts…”
“…or I’ll show you just what a…”
“…banana…” volunteered Kefka.
“…feels like!” concluded Locke happily.
A brief pause ensued, while everyone made sure the sentence had, in fact, come to a full stop. Or at least an exclamation mark.
“Yeah?” replied Kefka. “Well, I don’t wanna find out… uh… yo, Locke, ain’t this your line? Why’m I sayin’ it?”
Offstage, Hans was watching with his head in his hands, something only possible in books. Despite the travesties being commited onstage, however, there was one ray of light that penetrated his gloom: the audience didn’t seem to have noticed anything wrong. Of course, after the play was over that fact would almost certainly return to destroy his faith in the intellect of the human race, but for now at least they seemed to be enjoying the show. And no one had thrown anything yet.
“Good evening,” said I, Caroussis, popping up next to him. Hans turned and gave him a weak smile.
“Hi,” he said glumly. “Nice exit, by the way.”
“I, knows,” Caroussis replied smugly. “When is his next entrance?”
“Next entrance?” repeated Hans. “Er, you haven’t got one. You’re dead now.”
“I,’s sorry?”
“That’s Gestahl’s death scene you just did. You don’t come back on again.”
I, laughed humourlessly. “It seems you do not understand. I, will return. It is simply a matter of when. Now, answer that question for him. When?”
“No, you’re the one who doesn’t understand,” retorted Hans, a little colder than was his custom. The play had been taking its toll on his nerves. “You’re dead. Gone. Buried. You don’t come back.”
Caroussis stared at him. When he desired, he could look very evil indeed. And right now, he looked frankly terrifying.
“You will regret this,” he snapped, and disappeared.
Meanwhile, back on the Floating Continent, Kefka and the heroes had worked out who should be saying what.
“Yeah?” replied Locke, picking up roughly where Kefka had left off. He stomped forward and leaned so he was practically standing nose-to-nose with the Imperial General. “Well, I’d rather not find out exactly what a… er… banana… feels like, so we’d better –”
“Stop right there!”
“Yeah, that,” agreed Locke. “No, wait a second, that’s not what we’re gonna do…”
“Those men,” shouted Reno of the Turks, striding from stage left to confront the heroes and pointing his electromag rod at Kefka, “are evil terrorists! They blew up a Mako reactor and are getting in the way of official Shinra business!”
This did not have the reaction he’d hoped for. He’d been hoping for perhaps a shocked gasp from the audience, one that he could have followed with, “Yea, fellows, ‘tis true!” or something similar. He had not been expecting a vague cheer of the, “Wow, cool!” variety.
Celes glared at Cyan, who shrugged and mouthed, “‘Twas not I, fair maiden.”
“Now, we’re here to…” Reno’s voice trailed off. “Good lord, get out of the way!”
“Wha’?”
Reno’s gaze, having strayed momentarily upwards, had passed across the ominous black shape descending from the rafters. The world seemed to move in slow motion as he broke into a run, his steps pitifully slow compared to the imminent doom falling towards Locke and Kefka. The gazes of all present followed him as he sprinted towards them, then, when it was clear he was not going to make it in time, hurled himself bodily at them. He collided heavily with Kefka, sending both general and treasure hunter sprawling, while he himself stopped dead and hit the stage face first.
The four-ton weight (it had to be four-ton, after all, it had ‘4T’ painted on it) smashed down onto him, sending fragments of wood from the stage flying in all directions.
In the near-silence that followed, the only sound that could be heard was the rhythmic ‘dink… dink… dink…’ of the Shinra Electro-Mag Rod, Mk. VIII as it bounced, deceptively slowly, down the stairs leading to the central aisle. It hit the carpeted walkway, and lay silent.
There was the brief sound of rushing air, and a large purple octopus landed on the stage. It bore the most inane grin ever seen on seafood.
“Good day!” it announced cheerfully. “It appears that both the hero and the villain are unable to play their parts. So that the show may go on, I, Ultros, the world’s premiere octopus, will play the lead!” It paused. “Er… both of them!”
And, finally, the proverbial all hell broke less. The audience began to realise that, just perhaps, the play wasn’t meant to go like this, and several members rose from their seats, demanding explanations – or, failing that, just one explanation would suffice. The Turks and cast members clustered around their fallen comrades. Ultros, ignoring everything around him, proudly strode… er, slithered across the stage, proclaiming aloud that he would, without a doubt, save the world from this evil empire and bring in an age of peace and happiness. And, just to cap it all, I, Caroussis stormed on from stage right with, to the astonishment of all concerned, a banjo in one hand, a bass drum strapped to his back, a cymbal atop his head, and a harmonica round his neck. He stopped in the centre of the stage, tapped his foot a few times, and broke into an intriguing rendition of, ‘A Wizard’s Staff Has A Knob On The End.’
Staring wide-eyed at the chaos, Hans had no choice other than to do the only humane thing.
“Drop the safety curtain!” he yelled.

And now, it was about twenty minutes later. The Event Square had been emptied, and the stagehands were working hard on cleaning up the mess.
“Well, I thought we did quite well,” said Cloud.
“I’m sure you did as well as you could,” Hans admitted wearily. “It’s just that I was hoping for something… different.”
“Actually, sir,” Bucket piped up, “I overheard several people on their way out saying that the play was one of the most exciting things they’d ever seen.”
“Really.” Hans did not sound impressed.
“Yes, sir. I think they quite enjoyed it.”
Hans shrugged. “Well, each to their own, I guess. All right, I take it all back. You performed admirably. It’s just a shame that you put a hole in my stage.”
“Now, that wasn’t our fault,” objected Tifa, while behind her Ess tried to look innocent. “That was all that octopus thing’s work. Where’d it go, by the way?”
There was a brief period of mumbling, at the end of which it transpired that no one was really sure what had happened to Ultros. Presumably he’d just faded away, as all good cameos do when they’re no longer needed.
“An’ what about da Turks?” Barret enquired. “Where’s Reno?”
“Oh, your friend in the suit took him back to Midgar,” Hans explained. “The other two said they had, er… ‘an evil world-destroying maniac’ to follow, and left on their own.”
“Did they mention where they were going?” asked Croft hopefully.
“They said something about a ‘Temple of the Ancients,’” Hans related. “Oh, yes, they gave me a message to give to you. Here.”
He handed a folded piece of paper to Cloud, who duly unfolded it and read it.
“Ha ha ha,” he read out loud. “We’ve got the Keystone, you silly twits. You really shouldn’t have left it in your room, especially when the hotel doorman’s susceptible to Elena’s feminine wiles. Now we’re going to go kill Sephiroth and save the world, not you! So there.” He looked up. “It’s signed, Reno.”
“Well, I guess we know where we’re headed tomorrow, then,” said Perigee.
Hans nodded. “Oh, if it’s any help, there’s an old six-wheeled buggy you could borrow. No one ever uses it around here, but it goes at quite a decent speed.”
“We’ve got an airship,” said Cid flatly.
“Oh, right. Sorry.”
“Shouldn’t we be off to bed now, then?” suggested the Author. “We’ll want to be up early, I assume.”
“Hey, wait a second!” Hans exclaimed. “Er…” He waved a hand at a small heap of colourfully wrapped boxes. “We had these done up before the play, in anticipation of you doing well so we could reward you afterwards. You might as well have them now.” He shrugged. “I don’t know how appropriate they are, but you might find some use for them.”
“Oh?” said Aeris, opening a particularly long parcel. “An umbrella, isn’t it?” She brushed the tip with one hand and recoiled sharply. “Ow, that’s sharp.”
“Whoopee,” Nanaki muttered gloomily, holding up his reward. “An ‘Ifurita’ T-shirt.”
The Author stared happily at his present, which was, by some happy coincidence, a small cloth bag labelled ‘Items.’ Now at last he had somewhere to store all those plushies.
He glanced over to Mr. Big, who was doing a little victory dance in the corner. “What’s up with you?”
“I got another skill point!” the rabbit replied cheerfully.
“Another soft toy?” Kasuto observed. Her reward was a twelve-inch fluffy model of a handsome enough young man, wearing a leather jacket and carrying over his shoulder some weird crossbreed between a pistol and a short sword. She squeezed it gently. “Whatever.”
“If you’re not bothered, I’ll take that off your hands,” the Author told her benevolently.
“Yay!” exclaimed Croft. “Bagpipes!”
Silence descended like the calm before a storm.
“…what?” said Perigee.
Warbling Croft held the weapon aloft. “I think I can equip these,” he said. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to play them.”
“If it makes you feel any better,” said Hans apologetically, “I had nothing to do with that one.”
“That’s not much consolation,” the Author replied.
Hans shrugged, and risked a glance over at the corner, where the Major was already exhorting Croft to, “sound the retreat on your bagpipes, old boy.”
“Could I ask a favour of you?” he enquired of the Author.
“Of course. What?”
“If you see the guy in the suit again, can you give him this from me?”
The Author took the gift and nodded. “Sure. What is it?”
“A grenade.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Ess asked.
Cloud leaned back in his seat. The gondolas in the Round Square did have remarkably comfortable seats, and with only the two of them in the car, he could practically lie down. Add to that the beautiful and really rather romantic view out of the window, and this was certainly the way he wanted to relax after the exertions of the stage.
“Yeah, I’m fine, really,” he replied. “I mean, I wasn’t actually hit by the weight or anything. Why is everyone so worried about me?”
“Because…” Ess paused. “‘Everyone?’”
Cloud nodded. “Tifa was going on about it as well earlier, just before you came along and suggested we have a ride on this. Saying I should go have a lie down and all that.” He looked down at himself. “I don’t look that weak, do I? I thought I was quite strong.”
“Oh, you are,” said Ess automatically. “It’s just that everyone’s fond of you. We wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”
So… Tifa as well? Could she be… No. Ess shook her head. But… she did seem rather quiet whenever Cloud was around. Possibly…
“Cloud?” Ess said softly. “I just want to say… I’m sorry. About -”
But if Cloud had been listening at the beginning, he wasn’t any more. His attention had been caught by something outside the window, and he obviously found whatever it was more riveting than Ess’ speech.
“Wow!” he exclaimed. “Just look at this! Those fireworks must have cost tens of thousands at least!”
Ess sighed.
“Oh, come on.” Cloud beckoned to her. “Slide over here and watch. It’s so much friendlier with two.”

Meanwhile, back at the Round Square station…
“Oh, come on.” Cid waved an arm at Perigee from within their carriage. “Look, everyone else is going, and it’s not as if you’ve got a girl to wair for, is it? Now hurry up and hop on before we miss all the fireworks.”
“There’s still room for one more if we all squish up,” Mr. Big called from Croft’s shoulder.
“That’s easy for you to say,” muttered Nanaki. “You don’t have to squish.”
“You could sit on the floor, you know.”
Nanaki gave him an Evil Stare. “I am no dog.”
“Not really my sort of thing,” Perigee admitted. “I’m just going to wander back to my room. It is late.”
“Don’t be such a spoilsport!” Kasuto shouted. “Hey, I’ll be your date if you want!”
Perigee sighed and hung his head in defeat. “Oh, okay, okay. I’m coming.”
He glanced to one side as he walked, absently watching one of the other cars coming to a halt by the station and mentally estimating the retarding force required to cause it to stop like that. Having thus satisfied himself, he returned his attention to where he was actually going, but not before spotting the couple stepping out of the now stationary gondola.
He stopped.
“Um…” he remarked casually. “Actually, I think I will just go and lie down now. I’ll see you.”
He turned and wandered off, albeit with rather more purpose than usual. Perigee’s usual wander tended to deviate considerably from a straight line, but this time it seemed he wanted to get from where he was to the exit via the shortest possible route.
“I wonder what that’s about?” Cid mused. “Oh, what the hell.” He turned to the attendant waiting patiently a few metres away. “Okay, man, cast us off.”
As their car moved away, Ess watched the scientist’s departing back.
“Perigee…” she murmured.

The room was empty, save for a man asleep at a table. From the way he had subconsciously arranged his arms so as to rest his head on them in the most comfortable manner, it could be presumed that he had been there for some time.
A rather curt knocking resounded around the room. This had precisely no discernible effect whatsoever on the slumbering man.
There was a pause, while the knocker waited for a response. When none came, he – or she – beat an interesting and strangely catchy rhythm on the door. It sounded like it would be impossible to create a beat like that without at least eight fists.
The man stirred, and glanced up. “Huh?”
“Yo, it’s me!” shouted Ultros’ voice from outside. “Let me in, will you?”
The man got to his feet wearily and trudged over to the door. He knew he had to make an appearance at this stage in the book, in case the readers had forgotten about him already. But it would be nicer if he could do it at a more reasonable hour.
Upon opening the door, he stepped aside to allow Ultros to slither in.
“Well?” he enquired.
“Oh, I got in the way, all right,” Ultros told him proudly. “Dropped a weight on them. One casualty, though.”
“Who?” Fishook Grysley, for it was he, sounded distinctly unamused.
“Reno. The Turk.”
“Ah.” Fishook shrugged. “An acceptable loss.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
“And what about the surveillance part of your mission? What news have you?”
“Weeell… lessee now…” Ultros reached behind his back and produced a small notepad. “Plotwise: Tomorrow they’re all gonna head to this ‘Temple of the Ancients’ place. Apparently Sephiroth’s gone there already.”
“The Temple?” Fishook repeated. “They’re progressing faster than I would have expected. They’ll get to that scene pretty soon.”
“Care to stop being so cryptic and tell me what on earth you’re on about?”
“No, not particularly. What about the Author?”
“Aha!” Ultros beamed. “He’s really getting to know this Aeris girl, just like you said. The two of ‘em wandered around together ‘til some unearthly hour. You know, playing those games together, seeing the sights… They even went on that cable car thingy. The one with all the fireworks.”
“The Round Square?”
“Yeah, that’s it. You should’ve heard the two of ‘em on it. Practically all over each other.”
“Well, that’s…” Fishook’s voice trailed off. He had to know. “How did you hear them on it?”
“I was in the car behind them. They left the windows open.”
“Ah.”
“Seriously, though,” Ultros enquired, “how d’you intend to separate them? I don’t think it’s just a matter any more of impressing Aeris by beating the Author up.”
“Of course not.” Fishook smiled knowingly. “Soon, in a couple of chapters or so, I will wait ‘til they’re asleep and then kidnap her. Then, while the Author drives himself mad searching for her, she will come to appreciate that I am, in fact, everything he is but more so, and thus fall in love with me. When he finally finds me, he will be so shocked to discover that she has forsaken him that it will be no problem whatsoever to kill him. Then I let Sephiroth kill off the rest of the heroes, while I take Aeris somewhere else and use her in my books.”
“Sounds rather clichéd to me,” remarked Ultros, “except for the ‘using the girl in a book’ bit. Can’t you think of something more interesting?”
“I wish I was allowed to,” sighed FG. “But there are conventions I have to abide by. Rules of conduct.”
“Riiight.” Ultros shrugged. “Anyway, what is it with you and this Author guy?”
“It’s a revenge thing.”
“Oh. Steal your girl, did he?”
Fishook laughed harshly. “Him? I think not. It’s more… business related. Now,” he went on, making it clear that this topic was, for this scene at least, firmly closed, “why don’t you go back to wherever it is you hang around like a good octopus. I’ll call you again if I seriously cannot avoid it.”
“You really know how to make a minion feel appreciated, don’t you?”