Subject: ToM: Eks, Why, Zed Date: Mon, 21 Sep 98 19:58:04 (PDT) From: "Neal Moss" Reply-To: "MIDGAR" To: "Multiple Recipients of Mailing List MIDGAR" , "Multiple Recipients of Mailing List MIDGAR" The dimly lit room looked like a scrap heap. Pieces of metal, wire, and plastic were scattered over tables and chairs. Broken appliances littered the floor. In the corner, a dark figure could be seen, bathed in the light from the only working television in the place. He was watching the news. "...police ask anyone with information about this man to contact them, and Makenzie has made the offer of one hundred thousand gil to the person that gives the information that leads to the apprehension of Ulysses La'Tor. A short break now..." The dark figure shut off the news broadcast, scratching his chin thoughtfully. So, he thought, Mr. La'Tor is a criminal now. Maybe I can use this... He could remember back, back when Ulysses had worked for Shinra. He'd met him once, briefly. It was a very clear memory. "...and then I said, "Why don't we just boost the power?" He nodded in agreement, and Ulysses smiled. "Just don't forget, there isn't anything you can't do. That's the power of science..." The figure shook his head, frowned to himself. I can't let personal feelings get in the way, he thought. If I'm gonna do this, I have to stay neutral. Walking quickly over to a table, he began to dig through the pile that was on it. Junk flew through the air, landing in a heap behind him as his search intensified. It's in this pile, he thought, I know it. Finally, his efforts were rewarded. The armor was under a broken air conditioner. He picked it up, gently dusting it off with a hand. It was still in good condition, considering how long it hadn't been used. He remembered when he last took off the armor. It was right about the time Shinra fired him... "...waste of research funds..." "... blatant disregard for human resources..." "...disgrace to scientists..." "...your career's finished, as far as I'm concerned..." A fist tightened at the memory. Damn you, Rufus, he thought, you'll regret that decision. The plan was simple. Information on the location of Ulysses La'Tor was worth big bucks to that Makenzie person. But what if he was brought in, alive? He might be worth triple the offered reward, maybe even more. Either way, the money would be enough to start his plan for revenge... Slipping the armor on, he took a moment to glance at his reflection in the mirror. Time had changed him. What once was his simple, innocent face was now a twisted, hate-filled portal into his soul. He scratched his scraggly beard, grinning to himself. "I need a shave," he said to himself. "A man can't get revenge looking like I do." "And I _will_ get my revenge on Rufus. He certainly hasn't heard the last of Zigfried Chausenhaur." Suddenly,a memory passed through his mind. It was of his first battle, two months ago, right before he was fired. He was at the barracks... "What should we call you, sir?" "Huh?" Zigfried said, looking at the soldier who stood before him. "Your rank and name, sir." "Oh," Zigfried grinned slightly, "I'm not with the military. I'm just a scientist, so stop calling me 'sir'. You can call me...Ziggy." "Okay, si...uh," the soldier stammered, "Ziggy." "No," he said. Hate burned inside his chest at the memory of the battle, the fire... "I'm not Zigfried. Zigfried is no longer. He was responsible for the deaths of innocent people, because he failed in his duties. I am Zed." Grinning to himself, he opened his door and stepped out onto the street. The dark city was lit with excitement, as the festival continued into the late night. Thousands of people milled through the city, laughing, enjoying the various attractions that the festival offered. It didn't matter, though. Ulysses La'Tor would be found. And that would only be the beginning... ---------- OOG: Zigfried's back, and he's on a mission. Anastasius: If you don't like me sending Zed (his new name) after Forge, then let me know. I can probably fix it. Arcana: Since I'm a moron when it comes to editing things, and also because I don't have access to your pages, could you edit Zed's profile for me? Just some simple cut-and-paste changes that are probably a waste of time, but are still important to my character's description: ---------- Name: Zed (Real Name: Zigfried Chausenhaur) Complexion: Dark General Appearance: Rough. Doesn't shave much, always seems to have five o'clock shadow. Personality: Cold, semi-detached. No love for Shinra, since they fired him. Occupation: Ex-Shinra Scientist, R+D Materia: None Notes: Prototype Weapon/Armor System: Experimental weapon/armor combination. Consists of lightweight torso armor, which covers the chest, back, and shoulders. Mako power pack mounted on back powers systems for approximately 5 hours of continuous use. Most systems are dependent on Mako power; if it runs out, they shut down. Armor has the approximate strength of two Carbon Bangles welded together, one over the other. Weapon system consists of servo-assisted left arm, attached to torso armor. Servos in arm are not dependent on power pack, using self-replenishing micro fuel cells instead. Arm has rounded gripper claw at end, with four evenly spaced claws, and with a gripping potential of 35 times a normal person (think of those robot things at Gold Saucer which grab you and take you to prison). Sensors and targeting equipment are built into the unit as well. Medium range Gauss cannon, in center of "palm", uses magnetic induction to accelerate projectiles to incredible speeds, causing massive damage. Uses a variety of projectiles, ranging from simple bullets to explosive cluster shells. Range is limited to 200 feet. Armor also comes with eyepiece HUD, which straps on around the forehead and hangs over the left eye. HUD provides information to user from sensors, which can analyze any object, and targeting equipment, which allow user to lock onto a target, track its movements, and provide a lead marker to fire at. Invisible laser dot scope in arm is visible through eyepiece, allowing for precision firing. Limited magnification to 4X gives weapon limited sniper ability. Weapon/Armor System has two Materia slots, with double growth. ---------- Thank you. I really do appreciate it. Well, that's about all the time I have. Now I have to go home, and try to fix my computer. I think I have a virus (eek!), or maybe it was just a power surge... Oh well... QSX "I realize that I'm generalizing here, but as is often the case when I generalize, I don't care." - Dave Barry ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com -------=========================+++++=========================------- This note comes from: The MultiVersal Dreams BBS @ (209) 754-5851 ----======= WWIV 4.24a via the PPP Project Software =======---- --------=========+++=========-------- Subject: ToM: Encounters and Arguments Date: Sat, 26 Sep 98 13:11:03 (PDT) From: Daly Reply-To: "MIDGAR" To: "Multiple Recipients of Mailing List MIDGAR" , "Multiple Recipients of Mailing List MIDGAR" [OOG: As usual, language.] *** Time: 8:05 Place: Sector 3 Slums, Blue Plate Hotel > "I'm glad one of us can do the 'sneak around the back' right" He managed to > smile despite the pain, "Restrain Argoulor, we'll get him later, let's get Leia > somewhere safe." Kytira ran over to Leia's body and carefully rolled her over onto her back. "Leia???" She shook the teenager by her shoulders hard. No reply or reaction was given in return. Fearing the worst, Kytira frantically brought Leia's arm up and placed her index and middle fingers on her wrist, searching for a pulse. She let a sigh of relief go when she finally felt it. She glanced over at Zeng and asked him what level the bolt was. "One." He replied briskly and Kytira responded with a sigh of relief. Glancing at Argoulor then at Leia, Zeng slowly got to his feet. "Is Leia alright?" Kytira nodded, "She's breathing, she's got a pulse... but," her face fell and she swallowed hard as a lump formed in her throat, "I-I don't know... My foster mother always told me that she was weak against magic... and to keep materia away from her...." her voice trailed off and she slowly lifted her foster sister's body off the ground and headed towards the entrance door. "We should take her to a hospital instead... just in case she's bleeding internally or something." She stared at Zeng, concerned with why he was still clutching his arm. "Are you alright? Do you think you can carry Argoulor?" Zeng shook his head grimly as he slowly got to his feet. "No, go find something to tie him up with." Kytira nodded then walked over to the king size bed and set Leia to rest upon it. After, she fumbled with searching the drawers of the desk near the window. Finding nothing useful, she headed into the bathroom to try her luck there. Zeng rubbed his arm, wincing at the pain when he heard Kytira call out from the bathroom. "Hey, Zeng." "Yeah?" "Umm... What he said... were you actually talking to Argoulor?" "Yes." "??!" Kytira's head poked out from the bathroom as she shook her head in confusion. "How? I didn't even see or hear--" "--Telepathy," Zeng interrupted her then turned away to signify that this conversation had ended. "Telepathy?" she repeated. "........." Kytira gave him a peculiar look before her head returned to the bathroom. Several minutes later, she came back out with an irritated expression set in place. "Damn," she said wryly as she muttered a few curses, walking back to Leia's body. "I should've known there is no hotel in this world that keeps ropes in the bathroom." She threw her hands up in disgust. "What the hell am I supposed to tie him up-??? A curtain, a blanket or a towel??! Of all the stupid--" She stopped herself short, whirled around and smiled to find herself staring at a walk-in closet. She glanced over at Zeng and shrugged. "I guess the closet'll have to do." Zeng watched as she threw the door closet open. Walking over to Argoulor's body, she clamped her hands down firmly on his shoulders and dragged him across the hardwood floor to the closet with several rugs being dragged away as well. She pulled him into the walk-in closet and set him to lean against the wall. Kytira backed up and stared at Argoulor, a small temptation to kick him was building inside of her. Her previous thoughts retreated when she thought of Leia's 'possible' condition. She left Argoulor in the closet as she exited to see Zeng managing to push a chair towards her. She took the chair from him and propped it up against the door. She dusted her hands, still slightly disappointed. "That won't hold him, but for now... I guess it'll have to do. She sighed and turned to the king sized bed. Sliding her arms underneath Leia's body, she slowly raised her up, then carefully and slowly slung her over her left shoulder. She headed towards the door, calling back, "Zeng, you coming?" Standing up, Zeng nodded and headed towards the doorway, stopping only to offer Kytira help in carrying Leia. "No way! I don't want you dropping her!" she answered, absent-mindedly, side-stepping away from him. She mentally slapped herself for being so blunt and immediately tried to come up with an excuse.. "I-I mean, uh...." she stammered. She needed a much better excuse than the current one being, 'Leia's already unconscious... She doesn't need a concussion!' "Umm, your arm is in pain... " Kytira said flatly, walking out the door. He sighed and nodded. He headed towards the elevator, Kytira following not too far behind and got in as Zeng held the two thick doors open. In the elevator, Kytira stared at Leia's pale face and swallowed hard, trying not to think of the last time something like this had happened. She sighed and stared at the floor of the elevator as guilt consumed her. *** Time: 8:09 Place: Sector 3 Slum Streets Kytira nervously bit her lip as she walked down the street. Her shoulder was sore from Leia's weight and her the stupid thin white canvas shoes were killing her feet, not to mention it was even more painful adding Leia's weight to it. The streets were dark, at least to her because of the sunglasses, and full of people. But she was nervous because of the small 'gang' of seven men that were standing on the corner of the incoming street. They were smoking and staring at her with a slight leer that she found really disturbing. "Hey sweetie, how much?" one asked in a low voice as she got a bit closer to them. "Those assholes..." she muttered under her breath as her face reddened. She glanced over at Zeng who was trying hard to restrain a snicker. "Stupid." Kytira narrowed her eyes and nudged him with her elbow as a threat. "Urghh..." Zeng doubled over yet again to cradle his arm. Kytira quickly apologized several times, the pain in his arm completely slipped her mind. "I'm so sorry! I forgot about that! I'm reeeeeallly sorry, Zeng." Zeng tried hard to change his painful expression but failed. "Th-that's alright," he said, his face still twisting into a painful grimace. "I-Im fine..." He slowly got back up as he saw two people, a man and a woman, dressed in the MSF uniform approaching the two of them. "Well, well, what's this?" The female officer sneered, glancing at Kytira's clothes, at the unconscious Leia Kytira held and then at Zeng. She smirked. "Prostitutes??" As if in a comic strip, Kytira could probably shoot steam from her head and melt iron with it. She shot a dirty look at the officer. "Prostitute???! What the hell is with people??! I'm not a damn prostitute!" "You sure you're not a prostitute? You got the body and looks for it..." the male officer quipped, obviously taunting her. "So, how much money you get a night?" He glanced over at Leia's face and a surprised look took its turn. "A young and innocent looking one too." He whistled in amazement then nodded at Zeng. "Impressive. These kind are hard to find nowadays. But, she's way too young for you. I'd go for the other prostitute," he said, gesturing at Kytira. "She's old." "I'm old????!" Kytira repeated, angry and shocked. "No, you're a prostitute." Kytira clenched her teeth and her fists as she closed her eyes tightly. The volume control on her voice past its limits as well as the gauge on her temper went haywire as she screamed, "I'M NOT A DAMN PROSTITUTE!!!" Dead silence. Everyone in the streets stopped their chattering and moving. Some jaws dropped open while eyes widened in horror and others threw dirty looks at her. Sensing this, Kytira whirled around to face the surrounding people. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU LOOKING AT?????!" Everyone turned away and Kytira growled, muttering several curse words softly but in a sharp tone. She turned back to face the two MSF officers and they decided their target would now be Zeng. "The guys back at the precinct would love to hear this." The female officer said as she exchanged a smirk with her partner. A huge urge to strangle both MSF flooded Kytira. But before she could dart forward and grasp their necks, Zeng took the opportunity to speak. He narrowed his eyes at them and spoke in a clear, low and harsh tone of voice. "She's not a prostitute. She's a SOLDIER. Just like me." "Ha, you wish," the female officer scoffed. Kytira's jaw tightened as her fists clenched tightly, her fingernails digging into her palm. With her free arm, she pushed the armlet on her opposite arm further up in a sense as people push up their sleeves to get ready to fight. Zeng glanced over at Kytira and recognized the look on her face. It practically read, "That's it! You're going down, bitch!" Kytira took a step closer towards the two officer and Zeng reacted quickly. His hand lashed out to stop her. It got a firm hold of her wrist and he pulled her back. "Hey!" The force of it threw the gun off of her right garter and it tumbled behind her. She quickly turned around and bent down to pick it up. The male officer tilted his head to the left and he watched Kytira pick the weapon back up. He let a low whistle escape his lips. Kytira immediately whirled around, bringing her hands behind her to pull the skirt part of the dress a bit lower as she made a face at the officer from behind her sunglasses. "You pervert!" Kytira darted forward to slap him, but Zeng grasped her wrist tightly before it could contact the officer's face and pulled her back. "Don't start anything," he hissed to Kytira. The male officer grinned, "Yeah, wouldn't want you to break a nail or something." Kytira slid her sunglasses by the bridge to the end of her nose to flash her glinting mako eyes. "Fuck you, asshole..." she said in a low and sinister tone. "Oh shit..." the female MSF held her breath, shocked by the whole dilemma. But her partner was still unconvinced. He nudged her partner and shook his head. Narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Kytira and Zeng, he said to her. "I've heard a report sometime ago, that several freaks escaped from Shinra labs... And the majority of them had mako infused eyes. Just like you two... And as for that girl," he pointed at Leia's body, slumped over Kytira's shoulder, "What if you're just kidnapping her or she's one of your fallen comrades?" His partner's head shot in his direction, a look of surprise bestowed upon her face. She turned back to the two SOLDIERS and with great speed, drew her gun. Kytira sucked her breath back in quickly as well as the craving to kick her and curse loudly. She glanced over nervously at Zeng who was somehow managing to keep his cool. "Put the gun down," Zeng said in his normal and calm tone of voice as his gaze slowly softened. "We're not lab escapees. Like I said before, we're SOLDIERS..." his voice trailed off as he saw a group of SOLDIERS that he recognized, walking towards them. "HEY YOU!!" The two MSF officers stared in a peculiar way as they turned towards the group of SOLDIERS nearing them. One of the SOLDIERS shouted at the two MSF officers, "Whaddaya think yer doin`?" Those four words drew puzzled looks from the two. "Huh? What do you mean?" One of the SOLDIERS glared angrily at the woman for her response. "They're with us!! What the fuck you think you're doing??" He was a bit off-coordination. You could also smell alcohol on this SOLDIER's breath. It was quite obvious what he was in the mood to do. The color faded from the MSF officers' faces as a look of sheer embarrassment took over. They weakly muttered an apology and scurried away as quick as they could as Kytira gave a smug and self-righteous grin. "Damn morons..." She turned towards the group of SOLDIERS and quickly thanked them. "It's a good thing you guys came when you did," she said, letting go of a sigh. "I saw my life flash by." They all broke out laughing as did Kytira. She nodded and smiled at Zeng. "C'mon, the hospital awaits...." Stopping herself all of a sudden, she turned to one of the SOLDIERS and smiled sheepishly. "Ummm.... could you lend me 1000 gil? I'll need it to get back home later on..... I'll pay you back, of course." *** Time: 8:30 Place: Sector 3 Slums, In front of the Blue Plate Hotel "I hope Leia's alright," Kytira said, fear hidden far in her voice, mixing in with remorse. They had just dropped her off at the hospital and sprinted their way back to the hotel since they had taken more time than expected. She glanced over at Zeng, his gaze was fixed upon the Blue Plate Hotel in front of them. "She'll be alright," he reassured her. "The doctors are probably checking her right now." Kytira nodded, even though she had very little faith in his words. She swallowed hard and took a step forward just as a familiar electric bolt shot through Zeng. His hand lashed out, grasped Kytira's wrist tightly and yanked her back. "Hey!" Kytira yelled, startled by his action. "What's your problem???" Zeng's jaw was clenched firmly as a stone cold gaze set into his eyes. He could feel it. Argoulor was awake and moving. He glanced over at Kytira who was still glaring at him, completely annoyed. "Stay here," he ordered her as he headed towards the hotel entrance. "WHAT???! No!" Zeng whirled around and gave Kytira a serious gaze and tone of voice. "Listen, just stay here and keep an eye out." "What the hell am I supposed to be looking out for??!! Loiterers??!!" "Just do it," he replied firmly. The way he spoke held utter importance and this had to have been serious. She glared back at him, but in a way, she also gave in to his demand. "Fine," she grumbled, not too pleased. "But get my stuff, will ya?" She let out a sigh then stared up at the hotel. "I can go back to headquarters and report us in, if you want." "No, just wait here--" Zeng replied. "It'd be faster if I just went and reported in. Save us some time." "Doesn't matter," he said, shaking his head. "Wait here and don't go anywhere until I come back." Kytira watched as Zeng ran into the hotel before she could protest. "Hey...!" She sighed and glanced around feeling several pairs of eyes on her. She hadn't done anything, it was just the clothes. She readjusted her shades, walked over to the alley beside the hotel, leaned against the wall and sighed deeply. "This really sucks..." *** -- ICQ: #18219424 AIM: DalyW7 Yahoo! Pager: Da_Ly "Intelligence. Nothing has caused the human race so much trouble as intelligence." -Rear Window -------=========================+++++=========================------- This note comes from: The MultiVersal Dreams BBS @ (209) 754-5851 ----======= WWIV 4.24a via the PPP Project Software =======---- --------=========+++=========-------- Subject: ToM: (hopefully) having a talk at the bench Date: Sat, 26 Sep 98 22:13:51 (PDT) From: VixMinX a aol.com Reply-To: "MIDGAR" To: "Multiple Recipients of Mailing List MIDGAR" , "Multiple Recipients of Mailing List MIDGAR" Day: i don't have a clue lol, nor the time! Place: at the bench, maybe sector one (if you're a good little kid, lol) Vixen looked at the two guys, trying to remembe why they looked so familiar. She just couldn't place it in her mind. "My name's Vixen, so how're you two?" She said, smiling, though her canine face looked like a snarl. She still wasn't used to her new form. "Uh.. nice name" Rude commented, stepping back a bit at the snarl, and looked to Lars fiddling with something in his pocket. "Hey Vixen, nice effect on the costume!" Korrine said quickly, poking her side to make her stop it. "Huh? Oh!" Vixen nodded, stopping the *snarl* her face had made. She grabbed hold of her wagging tail and started absentmindedly brushing it with her hands:: "So... what are we gonna talk about?" ((OOG: i know that was a really sad post.. pitiful lol. Just i've been under alot of stress. ^_^** i'll do my best to start making semi-good posts again! i gotta be a role model, being the oldest member... *giggle* i feel like an old lady!) -------=========================+++++=========================------- This note comes from: The MultiVersal Dreams BBS @ (209) 754-5851 ----======= WWIV 4.24a via the PPP Project Software =======---- --------=========+++=========-------- Subject: ToM: A weird situation Date: Sun, 27 Sep 98 22:11:02 (PDT) From: "Jenny L." Reply-To: "MIDGAR" To: "Multiple Recipients of Mailing List MIDGAR" , "Multiple Recipients of Mailing List MIDGAR" Day-9 Time-umm, late afternoon, I think Place- Sector one ======================= Korrine smiled and shrugged. "I dunno." She turned to Lars and Rude, and gave them what looked like a glare. "Let's see, well, too bad I didn't dress up. I would be a cat, or a fox like you, or something. But, of course, I wouldn't want to copy your costume idea!" Korrine laughed nervously. Vixen nodded. "Um, yeah!" She giggled. "Well, I'm going to get some candy, ok? You wanna come with me, Vixen?" Korrine asked. "Sure!!" Vixen quickly got up and stood by Korrine. "Do you guys want anything?" Korrine asked Rude and Lars. They both shook their heads. "Nah." Lars said. "Ok, we'll be right back!" Korrine said, as she and Vixen hurried over to a candy booth. As soon as they got there, they both stood around for a minute. "Whew, that was close!" Korrine said nervously. "Yeah! I didn't even reconize them! Otherwise, I would have been more careful." Vixen looked a little sad. "Oh, that's ok! Everyone makes mistakes!" Korrine said, hoping to make Vixen feel better. "Thanks!" Vixen smiled. Korrine smiled back. "Great! So, um, what should we do now?" =============== OOG-Sorry that this is so short! I've been very busy lately. Don't worry about your post, Vixen. I thought that it was pretty good! ^_^ == Jenny (Korrine) ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com -------=========================+++++=========================------- This note comes from: The MultiVersal Dreams BBS @ (209) 754-5851 ----======= WWIV 4.24a via the PPP Project Software =======---- --------=========+++=========-------- Subject: ToM: A weird situation gets alot wierder Date: Mon, 28 Sep 98 12:54:00 (PDT) From: VixMinX a aol.com Reply-To: "MIDGAR" To: "Multiple Recipients of Mailing List MIDGAR" , "Multiple Recipients of Mailing List MIDGAR" In a message dated 9/28/98 5:13:06 AM !!!First Boot!!!, catt_chan a hotmail.com writes: << As soon as they got there, they both stood around for a minute. "Whew, that was close!" Korrine said nervously. "Yeah! I didn't even reconize them! Otherwise, I would have been more careful." Vixen looked a little sad. "Oh, that's ok! Everyone makes mistakes!" Korrine said, hoping to make Vixen feel better. "Thanks!" Vixen smiled. Korrine smiled back. "Great! So, um, what should we do now?" >> "I dunno for sure, do they recognize me?" Vixen looked back at them. "I dunno for sure, but your snarl looked pretty real." Korrine said, looking back at them too. She wondered how Lars was gonna handle this. "Snarl?" Vixen blinked, then giggled. "It was a smile, silly!" Then VIxen let out a slight bark and playfully swatted Korrine with her tail. Despite how weak she'd been lately with her child in ber womb, she felt extremely energetic, which kinda worried her. Korrine giggled, then gasped at the bark, "Shhh! They'll here you Vixen." she said quickly, taking hold of her tail. Vixen nodded quickly, wiggling her tail in Korrine's grasp. "Sorry i couldn't control it," she looked back to Lars, who was STILL fiddling with something in his pocket (...10 minutes? just WHAT is he doing?!) "what's he got in there that's so interesting?" "I dunno, maybe a gun...!" She looked to Vixen. "Uh, maybe you should think of hiding!" Vixen nodded, and started to walk back towards them, "I gotta get to Azeral, i'll be safe with him," she said, crying out suddenly and clutching onto her stomach "Ahh!" "Vixen! What's wrong?!" Korrine looked at her worried, and helped her over to the bench again, Lars was STILL fiddling with something in his pocket. (running gag!) "Is it the baby? Is it ready or something?" VIxen nodded quickly, whimpering a bit. "Y.yeah! I think it's ready," she said quickly, her breath coming quicker. Another jolt of pain makes Vixen yelp out, getting definately wierd looks from Rude and Lars. "Hurry and get Azeral, Korrine!" "Uh, uhm, yeah! Of course Vixen!" Korrine ran off into the shop, running up to Azeral, "Come quick Azeral! Vixen's having her kid! At the bench!" Korrine said quickly, breathing a bit fast herself from the excitement. "Miss Vixen, maybe you should take your costume off now and go to a Shinra Medical Facility (hospital)" Lars said, sitting next to her, shoulder, surprised the suit was made of real fur, and it went all the way to the skin. "...This isn't a costume..!" He looked at her for a minute, then nodded "Hey Rude, I think this is the same Vixen we've been looking for. Are we still supposed to catch her?" Vixen was crying from the pain, and let out a soft howl, "Azeral get here! I want you to be here with the child when it comes...urr!" she started growling from the pain. ((OOG: well well... i said the child could come anytime. What's gonna happen now? We should let arcana post on what Lars will do. Will Azeral come and fight the Turks, or be helped by them? Will the Turks take Vixen to Shinra HQ for medical help? Will Lars ever take his hand out of his pocket?! Gee! this could go lots of ways! It's up to the rest of you now, but other peopl should be noticing Vixen about now, with all the growling, howling, and yelping.)) -------=========================+++++=========================------- This note comes from: The MultiVersal Dreams BBS @ (209) 754-5851 ----======= WWIV 4.24a via the PPP Project Software =======---- --------=========+++=========-------- Subject: Tom: To the Rescue Date: Mon, 28 Sep 98 20:44:42 (PDT) From: Chapman Reply-To: "MIDGAR" To: "Multiple Recipients of Mailing List MIDGAR" , "Multiple Recipients of Mailing List MIDGAR" Day: 7/8 Place: Sector 1 Azeral had kept a close eye on Vixen. While he thought about going to her earlier, When he saw the Turks, he reconsidered. < I know who they are.. I've seen them from somewhere...But where? > While Azeral pondered these things, He also knew that the Turks worked for Shinra. And Azeral didn't have good ties to Shinra. While he almost forgot this warning, and went charging to her anyway, He saw that the Turks weren't don't anything that could be considered a threat. So Azeral stood from a far observing. If one of the Turks however, made a move againest her, Azeral would have his head. However now, He was running, Running thorugh the crowds toward her. He could hear her cries. She was going into labor. As Azeral bursted into the scene, The two turks looked over at him. " Hey I know - " What you know Turk, is irrelevant. This women is going into Labor. " Azeral said, cutting him off. He looked at a man standing in the crowd surrounding them. He was staring in awe of the scene before him. " Well what are you standing there for man, go call 911 NOW! " Azeral bellowed as he cradled Vixen in a laying position. " We need to get her into the right position until help comes. You two, " He said pointing to the Turks, " Try and find something to cradle her lower body in. " He said. Azeral looked down at his betrothered. " Sarah, I want you to breathe with me. Please. " He said. He started to make a rapid, but yet slowl deep breaths. Vixen began to follow him. The two Turk had found a pillow to help Vixen deliver the baby properly. Vixen groaned and growled at the pain. Azeral looked down at her. Just looking at her in pain hurt him. Azeral carassed the side of her face. " Everything will be fine. Just breath. " Azeral said smiling. He then wondered when the ambulence would get there. [ Alright, Vixen, take it from here, or Jenny, whoever. ] * * * * * * Day: 7/9 Time: 12:13am Place: Sector 2 Funeral Home Turi sat in the living room, staring at the burning ambers inside the fireplace. he watched as the orange and red flames danced over the burning log. Fire. The image of Turi's worst fire. So long ago on a faithful ngiht, Turi used fire to destory not just the village of Corel, but he himself. That one night will always go as the turning point in his life. Turi signed as the fire made a sudden " CRACK " with the wood. And now, after so long of seeking some kind of redemption from both his damnation, and his tormenter, Neo, He discovered a truth that reeled an ugly head at him. " In order to relase yourself, You must tell Korrine of your past. Of what happened. The guilt is acting as an anchor for Neo. Holy has done everything it can do. Now it's up to you Turi. " Or so Ramzi had told him. It wasn't fair. To save himself, He must damn himself again. It didn't make sense. Why Korrine, of all people? " Korrine must be the one because she is your image of everything that is good. You love her, like all men do when they fall in love. However she is also the one who you fear the secret to tell. To tell her you beleive, would destory you. " This seemed all too true. Turi then wondered the source of his love for Korrine. At first it was just her pyshical apperance. She was undeniably lovely in ever way. From her slender legs, her gorgous breasts, and her face which Turi believed the Planet took careful planning in making. Only because Turi had never seen a face so perfect before. Her smile was hypotizing. Her eyes, her beautiful aqua eyes seemed to sooth Turi's soul. Her voice..an instrument of the Angels. But now, Turi thought, Now he must confront her, and shatter her smile. He must know that she would never be able to look into his soul again, and he would never hear her sing again. Turi turned his gaze from the flames to the circle inside the circle of candles. It was there he discovered that aweful truth. Was there another way? Turi's soul prayed there was. Then he thought something. Something that never occured to him. < Why don't I go back? > < Go back? You mean to the Lifestream. You don't know. > Neo said. Turi had to agree with that. He didn't know how. < But.. I know how........ > Neo said trailing off. Turi's soul lept. < How?! Neo, you must tell me. I- < Alright. Alright. It's simple, Just go over, and sit in the circle. > Neo said. Turi's soul cried out with joy. Finally, He would find another way! Turi walked over the circle, and sat Indian-style, as he had last time, in the circle. < Close your eyes. > Neo ordered. Turi obeyed. He eyes slid shut. Turi could hear Neo begin to chant something, But he didn't knwow aht it was...... ----------------------- [OOG: Alright, I'll finish Turi's part in my next post after this. Jenny, Vixen, I have a plan to pick with you....... meanwhile, Here's my first post in a while. I must apologize for not posting in a while. I've had some problems with my life, but now hopefully that's come to an end. But, I'm back, and I'll start posting. :) ] -------=========================+++++=========================------- This note comes from: The MultiVersal Dreams BBS @ (209) 754-5851 ----======= WWIV 4.24a via the PPP Project Software =======---- --------=========+++=========-------- Subject: ToM: Silent Tears (Revised). Date: Mon, 28 Sep 98 20:44:44 (PDT) From: "Anastasius Dumar" Reply-To: "MIDGAR" To: "Multiple Recipients of Mailing List MIDGAR" , "Multiple Recipients of Mailing List MIDGAR" {OOG: Well, I finally got around to re-doing Kurushimi's intro. I still am not truely satisfied with the writing, but I feel it's a hundred fold better than the last. I also noticed a small typo I made on Kurushimi's p-sheet: near the bottom, when talking about his magic, the word "saphire" is used to describe the crystal in his chest. That should be "topaz". {Also OOG: The use of ' ', is used to show internal dialogue.} Silent Tears (Revised) July 7th, 2000 Early Afternoon Church in the Sector Five Slums The gentle gust of air that emerged from his mouth toyed with the several long strands of silken web that dangled around him. The gentle swish of the old broom through the air seemed to echo in his ears, drowning from his thoughts and senses the voices and the catastrophe of noise that the slums carried with them. The church was empty, something that, for once, the young man perched in the high rafters of the old, fading building was glad for. With so many people coming in and out, seeking guidance or searching for questions that they found simply to elusive, it had been nearly a month since he had last been able to tend to the old, decrepit church. Cobwebs dangled from the ceiling and gently draped from beam to beam, and it almost reminded the young man of walking amongst a thin cloud. It was, however, a cloud that needed to be cleaned and maintained, thus the constant attacks upon it’s misty, silken beauty with the crippled broom. Twenty feet above the tiled floor of the church, the young man, with his slightly hooked, knife-like nose, long, thin eyebrows and delicately pointed chin and cheeks, looked much like a fledgling bird, at the brink of its nest ready to take flight. Certainly, with his thin, willowy body and arms spread out to his sides (one holding the old boom), the young man seemed as avian as the small family of pigeons that were frightened from their nest out a hole in the roof the size of his chest. The church was empty, it’s old, comfortably worn benches covered with an as yet undisturbed of fine dust. The flowers, growing in the church despite the sterile ground that bloomed beneath them and their poor environment, had yet to be tended, with a few of the older ones removed. Leaping from one creaking beam to the next perhaps five feet away, the young man seemed unperturbed about the risk of the twenty foot fall to the hard, cold floor of the church as he tottered in a certainly precarious manner for a moment before regaining his balance to continue his assault upon cobwebs and other unwelcome guests in the dark rafters. A small group of bats, illuminated beyond his superior sight by the soft glow of his pale yellow eyes dangled with their upside down on a small beam that reached beyond both the young man’s reach and that of his old broom. Looking at the sleeping, he was loathe to disturb them, as they would likely find only death were he to awaken them without the darkness of night to comfort them. A slight, almost tortured groan rose to his ears, and at first he wondered if there might not be a dying beast of some kind laying in wait beyond his sight. The slight smile that graced his lips expanded for a moment as he considered the foolishness of his imaginings, then retreated to the small, almost wryly comforting smile that rarely failed to shape his thin lipped mouth. Peering down, he immediately spotted the source of the sound: a darkening area of the thick wooden beam. Kneeling down, the broom in his left hand used to keep him balanced, he cautiously extended a thin, delicate hand towards the dark spot, as though fearing it might bite. The surface was soft, slightly spongy, and flaked quickly away when he rubbed a single finger across it’s moist surface. He frowned, knowing it was rot before he felt it’s surface, which brought upon unpleasant thoughts of clammy, cold and lifeless flesh. The young man sighed once again, absently pressing the back of his fingers against the hard surface of the broom’s handle. After being rewarded with a small series of slightly staggered staccato pops, he lay the broom down on the beam, it’s old, faded oak handle coming to create four right angles with the beam. “I feel as though I tend to a dying man. I can stop the bleeding for a while, but so often it seems as though he is just too far gone to do anything but prolong the agony he suffers.” Speaking to himself more to relieve the almost oppressive silence that surrounded him than anything else, the young man remained in a kneeling position, and slowly stretched his hands out, his thumbs touching. The gentle yellow glow of his eyes abruptly cut off as he shut out all the images of the reality around him, the young man focusing on bringing into his mind the image of that rotting area of wood, of the spongy-soft feel and the flaky texture that left small particles of wood on the tips of his fingers. He focused upon that rotting area, and only that rotting area, the rest of the space and objects around it lost in a black void. His hands were outstretched, but he did not visualize even them. Breathing deeply, the young man saw the rot as a child’s badly scraped knee; ugly on the outside, but still strong on the inside, though given enough time and the right conditions, it could fester, become infected. A child’s scraped knee heals from the inside out, as all wounds do, and the young man saw the inside of the wood, dark with rot, doing just that. From the inside of the wood, he could see the strong, firm fibers lending their strength to their weakened comrades, and then he himself lent his own strength, a tingling in the center of his thin chest as he did so. Slowly, ever so slowly, a yellow light began to emerge from the palms of the young man’s hands. Like a distant storm, the light collected perhaps a foot above the rotting area, and began to filter down a fine, barely visible only as a fine mist. It surrounded the rotting area, encasing it in gentle yellow light, before it disappeared into the wood. A loud groan was forced from the beam, and startled the young man from his trance. At first, he feared the beam was going to collapse under even his meager weight. The mere thought sent knots of anxiety to twist at his gut. So many people from the slums came here to find some kind of refuge, to find answers to questions or just to find an ear that was always open to speak to. Some came to sit by the flowers and simply meditate, and children would make such beautiful bands of the smaller, thinner flowers. He could hardly bear to think about the possibility of such things coming to a violent halt because the structure was deemed simply to weak to be safe. But the beam did not collapse, and all of the young man’s worries vanished as he could feel the strengthening of the wood by his contribution to it’s healing. A dull ring echoed in his ears, and a slight stiffness tightened his chest. He was weak from even such a small exertion as repairing a rafter’s beam; a task that he should not have been able to even feel the slightest amount of loss from. It made sense, he supposed. It had been nearly a week since he had last seen the revitalizing rays of the sun, something which, in the sunless slums, he had come to appreciate just how much people took the warm, golden rays for granted -he had, after all. He feared, for a moment, that he would become weak or be overcome with vertigo, something that had happened the day before. A trip, if not completely outside Midgar, than at least to the surface of the plate, was in order shortly so that he might replenish his energy. Rising a little shakily to his feet, he was more cautious on his return to the small door that led from the rafters into the small maintenance room of the church, where he resided for the small amount of time he was not involved in some restorative or upkeeping duty. The broom had been laying dormantly against the wall for no less than a minute when a slight,, inaudible “ping” echoed through his consciousness, like the drop of a pin. He knew instantly that someone was very close to the church, if not already inside of it, and hurried to dust off his tattered burlap pants nearly obliterated with various patches of every type of cloth and colour. Opening the door into the old back room of the church, the young man hastily moved down the three flights of stairs to the ground, and stealthily-as much as his slightly awkward adolescent body would allow- approached the cracked, shabby door leading into the main room, where he had been perched twenty feet above moments before. He felt slightly guilty, sneaking around the church like some kind of hoodlum, but he was curious to see who the lone visitor of the day was without him reacting to his presence (he naturally and unconsciously identified the unknown person as “he”). The “he”, as it turned out, was a woman, head bowed, and features obscured by a wide brimmed, flowered hat she wore upon her head. Her wrinkled, spotted hands gently held in them a basket of what the young man made out to be fruit, thought the thin veil over it made it difficult to discern what kind of fruit it might be despite his heightened senses. Focusing for a moment, listening to the woman, he could hear ragged, labored breathing and the murmur of her speech, though he failed to even consider eavesdropping like he was to listen in on her monologue. After a moment of watched the woman speak, the young man opened the door, and stepped noisily out of the open portal, drawing the startled gaze of the woman. She was old, the young man could see that clearly in her slightly sunken eyes, the thin, parchment-like skin that wrapped her delicate face, and the thin wisps of silvery hair that escaped the confines of her hat. The small, gentle smile on his lips expanding for a moment in silent apology for the disturbance, the young man spoke, his surprisingly deep voice sounding almost like it resonated from the ground beneath his feet rather than his mouth. “Hello, Grandmother.” he said, using a polite, respectful term for the old woman, “You are the first one to sit here today.” The old woman smiled, a smile that was quickly replaced with a sharp look of pain as a brief tremor ran through her frail body. Nonetheless, when she spoke in her soft, slightly strained voice, her words were matronly, spoken with patience and kindness. “You startled me, my boy. I did not see you come in. Do you have a name?” The young man nodded, the slight, comforting smile on his lips. “I am called Kurushimi, Grandmother. What may I call you?” He walked slowly, like he had all the time in the world, pausing three paces from the old woman so that she would not feel threatened by a stranger’s presence. “Kurushimi? What a nice name... I am happy with ‘Grandmother’; it is something I have not been called in a long time...” her voice trailed off, perhaps in fond memory of past times. Kurushimi waited patiently, the gentle smile on his thin lips, for the old woman to continue. After a short moment, the old woman seemed to snap from her reverie, and smiled briefly again at the young man with the curiously glowing yellow eyes before her. Such a slight thing, he was probably no older than fifteen, and could not have weighed more than a hundred pounds. He looked poor, she decided, wincing slightly as another brief, less intense tremor ran through her frail body, with his old, filthy sleeveless tunic, his worn, mismatched work boots, and the pants that seemed to be more stitching than cloth. It was strange, she decided, for such a young man to be hanging around the church like he did, but perhaps he had lost a loved one. The old woman’s voice sounded slightly strained as she continued, “ What are you doing here, young Kurushimi? Surely you have friends to be with or even school to attend.” The tone of her voice left her words with something between a question and a statement, as she did not wish to be too overbearing on the young man. That strange, small smile that had never left the young man’s face while she had spoken to him faltered for a moment at her question, and she supposed that he had indeed lost a loved one, perhaps a sibling or even a parent. She did not press the issue, though, as she had caused enough pain in her life already. Kurushimi shook his head slightly, the quiet smile drawing the corner of his lips upwards wavering for a moment before he spoke, his voice; deep and hollow surprising the old woman. She had not noticed it before. “Sometimes, Grandmother, I think that I belong here more than I belong out there.” he accompanied his reply by extending a thin index finger towards the creaky door that led out into the slums. The old woman smiled knowingly, and spoke after a brief flurry of coughs that made the young man sick to his stomach. When she drew her hand away from her mouth, Kurushimi could see her lips flecked with bright red drops before the old woman wiped the evidence of her condition away with a small black handkerchief. He smiled in a bittersweet way; the old woman was nearly gone. “I know what you mean, child. Even one such as I can find peace here, and perhaps if I was younger, I might join you.” He wondered for a moment how she had come this far, so badly weakened and close to death when she should have been on a bed, or at least laying down, waiting for the end to come. He assumed in his innocent way that she spoke of herself as old, yet something disturbed him about what she said. Brow furrowed slightly, though the small smile did not leave his lips, he spoke, “One such as you, Grandmother? Why do you say such a thing?” The old woman smiled at the boy’s naiveté, and responded in her patient, gentle voice, “Ah, I would not speak of such things to one so young as you -it would be but an addition to my sins.” The old woman paused for a moment, and then spoke again, perhaps deciding that the young man, Kurushimi, could be trusted. “That is why I have come, child. If I cannot find forgiveness, then perhaps I might find forgiveness.” “I understand, Grandmother. Many people come here, and they say much the same thing. You are not so different -you understand that whatever you feel you have done is wrong, and ask that it be known that you understand, nothing more. You are one of the strong ones, Grandmother.” The old woman smiled kindly, coughing once again, a fine red mist emerging from her mouth in a small cloud. “Thank you, child. Would you care for some fruit? I bought it just today, though I fear perhaps it may be a little to ripe.” Nodding polietly, the young man reached out to take the basket from the old woman’s hand. It was fortunate that he did so, as the old woman, another hands shaking even under the minor strain of the basket, gave out, and the basket plummetted to the floor. Moving with a speed that the old woman could not comprehend, the yellow eyed boy’s hand swooped beneath the basket, supporting it from the bottom, before it came within a foot of the old, cracked floor. He balanced the oval shaped basket with the ease of a practiced waiter, standing and picking from the basket a small bunch of dark, almost black grapes. Parting his thin, smiling lips, the young man, after placing the basket of fruit on the bench in front of the old woman, plucked from their stems three slightly shriveled grapes. The trio quickly disappeared into the young man’s mouth, and he wiped his hands on his burlap pants, leaving in his wake a small purple stain. The grapes nearly disolved in his mouth, so ripe were they, and Kurushimi guessed that they were probably a week old; perhaps more. The old woman, however, could not be faulted. It was the thought of the deed more than the deed itself that made the offering so kind, and the young man refused to hurt the old woman by turning down her offer, which must have taken a considerable amount of effort to aquire by a woman so ill as she. Fruit such as that would not harm the young man, and after the grapes -stem and all- disappeared into his small mouth, he helped himself to a pear, coloured brown with a few small yellow splotches. He smiled in thanks to the old woman, who responded with a small nod, and stubborn locking of her jaw as another small tremmor shook her body. “Grandmother,” the young man offered, “would you like to look at the flowers? I tend them myself, and they are quite beautiful.” The old woman smiled sadly, and shook her head. “I fear that I lack the strength to even walk, child, though I wish I could see your flowers. They must be beautiful for you to be so proud of them.” The young man did not speak, and he could feel a large tear pool in the corner of his eye and run, unopposed, down his pale face. Stepping up to the old woman, he bent forwards, and gently placed his thin, bird like arms around her, effortlessly lifting her from the bench. The old woman smiled, and nodded to the young man, who’s strength seemed to be too great for his thin arms. “So strong...” she spoke, her voice a thin whisper, “ you musn’t have any trouble finding nice young ladies to be with.” the old woman’s smile faded, and a look of urgency came to her eyes as she turned her head, and extended a withered, frail hand towards the basket of fruit. “The fruit, child... I don’t want it to spoil...” The young man turned as though he was carrying a child in his arms, and took a step down the isle, towards the small island of green in the dissmal enviroment around him. “Shhh...” he murmmered to the old woman, his deep voice echoing in the empty church, “...I will make sure that the fruit does not spoil. Come, Grandmother, let us see the flowers. They are very beautiful.” The old woman said nothing, but relaxed, sighing deeply as she did so. She blinked twice, rapidly, before speaking, her breathing laboured, “I am tired child, but I would like to see your flowers.” Walking with long, strong steps, Kurushimi moved to the front bench, only a few feet from the small grove of blues, reds, yellows and every sort of colour that he believed he could possibly imagine. His eyes stung, and when he licked his dry lips, he was given a salty, bitter taste as a reward. With slow, gently movements, he set the old woman down upon the bench, though he did not sit down himself. “Look, Grandmother. This is the only place that flowers will grow. I can sit here for hours, tending them.” The a small smile parted the old woman’s thin lips, her breath coming in quiet, laboured whispers. “Child... perhaps... I might have... a flower? I... would like to take one with me... to remind me of this place...” A sharp sniff drew back some of the runnoff from Kurushimi’s nose, and face stinging with tears, he nodded, and rose. “Of course, Grandmother, I will fetch you one right now.” It was no more than two yards to the flower bed, a distance that he easily covered with two steps, and wading to the center of the small grove of flowers, he bent at the waist, reaching down to pluck from the earth a deep, golden yellow daisy. Rising and holding the delicate flower in his left hand, Kurushimi stepped from the grove, leaving no fallen flowers or footprints in the earth to mark his passage. He knew, even before he plucked the daisy from the ground, tha the old woman was gone. His face pale and streaked with red, he stepped up to the old woman, her chest still and quiet, empty eyes staring into the heavens that she may not have ever seen. Hiccupping gently, the young man took one of the old woman’s hands -still warm- with his own, and gently placed the daisy in her palm. “Here, Grandmother-” his voice cracked, and for a moment he found it difficult to speak. “-I brought you a flower. It’s yellow, like my eyes.” Reaching up, the old woman’s hand still held tightly in his, he gently closed her eyes, and kissed her forehead. “Rest well, Grandmother. You are forgiven.” Stooping slightly, he wrapped his arms again around the old woman’s body, and stood, carrying her old, frail body easily in his arms. Turning around, he once again stepped into the flower grove, moving silently and tracelessly through the thickly intertwined plants. Stopping at the center of the bed, Kurushimi sniffled again, and crouched down, gently placing the old woman’s body among the flowers. He stood, and closed his eyes, holding his hands out over the old woman’s body. He said nothing; did not need to as a gentle golden light spread around his hands, and slowly began to drift to the ground, moving like a fine mist. The glow collected around the old woman’s silent body, and then began to seep into the ground below. A faint ringing began in Kurushimi’s ears, a warning that signalled how little energy he truly posessed. His knees shook, and his hands trembled as he called on his magic. It was worth it, he knew, when he opened his eyes a crack; enough to see the old woman half buried in the grey Midgarian soil. Shutting his eyes again, he slowly sank to his knees, still holding his hands out above the old woman’s body. Exhaling a shaky breath, and placing his palms -cold, clammy and slick with moisture on his thighs to steady them, he looked down to the ground. The old woman’s body had completely disappeared; a small parting of the flowers in the outline of her body the only sign of what had transpired. Grasping a trowel nearby, one that he had left implanted in the garden, he shuffled the dirt around, doing little and accomplishing less. “She understood, Mother. Understood that what she had done was wrong, and wanted to do something about it, even if it was only ask for forgiveness. The voice that answered echoed in his mind, a voice that was not made up of words so much as emotion. He knew that only he could hear it, and that he could speak in his mind if he wished, but he prefered hearing his own voice, that he could be absolutely sure of what he said. ‘True. Were she twenty years younger, my son, she would have a champion, living testament to your argument. But for every old woman who will admit and understand that they have done wrong, whether it be to a fellow, or to myself, there are hundreds- thousands, perhaps, that refuse to accept their failings and try to correct them, or simply do not care. I admire your preserverance, my son, but your brothers grow restless, and even I feel that there may be no other way to make the humans listen. Your time grows short, Kurushimi; my first son, and the actions of so few cannot possibly dictate the judgement of so many.’ Nodding sadly, the young man thrust the trowel into the ground, effortlessly burrying the rusting blade to it’s handle. “I understand, mother, but I know, I just know that my cause cannot be in vain. You will see, mother.” Kurushimi could feel the smile in the words that followed, ‘I hope so, dear Kurushimi, I certainly hope so.’ & Anastasius Dumar ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com -------=========================+++++=========================------- This note comes from: The MultiVersal Dreams BBS @ (209) 754-5851 ----======= WWIV 4.24a via the PPP Project Software =======---- --------=========+++=========-------- Subject: ToM: False identitiy Date: Wed, 30 Sep 98 00:31:56 (PDT) From: Rune Reply-To: "MIDGAR" To: "Multiple Recipients of Mailing List MIDGAR" , "Multiple Recipients of Mailing List MIDGAR" [OOG: At last I got this post to the list. Sorry 'bout the bad title but I couldn't think of anything else. It was severly delayed due to different reasons, but I'll not speak about those now... Note, this post take action before my last post "Ancient dreams" and that what I write now may counteract with the post. But it's what I write now that's right.] Time: July 8th, late evening Place: Sector Five Church. > "My name is Razlo Black. Will you lower your sword now? I'm > unarmed." He pulled back his sleeves to reveal arm guards, but no > weapon. > Cloud nodded, and lowered his sword. "I'm Cloud," he replied. > "Now. Why did you ever discover this place?" "Why I discovered this place? Well... I just kinda walked by this place when I was looking for a place to spend the night, sure I could've rented a room at an inn or so, but this's free and..." he paused for a moment to make himself seem more serious "...I like it here. Surely you've noticed the atmosphere here, am I right?" He turned around and looked at Jessie. "Umm... Yea, sure I've noticed but..." She cut herself off. "Hey! Are you saing this just to make us let you stay here?" she said with an accusing tone. "I don't know, actually, I just said it 'cause I felt like it." He looked back at Cloud. "What's the big problem about me sleeping here anyways? It's not like I'll be dangerous for you or anything. And if I was I could just tell Shinra where you are, being from AVALANCHE and all" "You from SOLDIER?" Cloud said as he raised his sword. "No, I'm not." Cera responded. "Your eyes tell me differently." "What my eyes tell is not important at the moment. You have the same glow in your eyes and you're not in SOLDIER." "Well, that's just 'cause I quit." "Then why couldn't I have quitted too? But to tell the truth I have never been in SOLDIER." "So how can you have those eyes?" Cloud interrupted. "You didn't let me finish." He made a short pause and continued. "As I was saying I have never been in SOLDIER. The reason I have the glow in my eyes that mako-infused people have is that I used to work in the mako-reactor in Junon. But one day, about two years ago, there was an accident and I got my face showered with mako." Cera looked down on the ground. "That's when I stopped working for Shinra." "Then why haven't I heard about it in the news or so?" Cloud inquired. "You know how good Shinra are at covering things up." Cloud nodded slowly and thought for a moment. "Does this mean that you're against Shinra?" "Not exactly, I'm not the kinda guy who hold grudges. You see, just until lately I've been a mercenary accepting all missions, even those from Shinra. I was actually going to Midgar because there was many 'criminals' here, so to speak, who had _huge_ bounties on their heads. However, on my way here I decided to decline all missions coming from Shinra. "If you are a mercenary as you say, you're not with Shinra, and you're smart enough to realize who you are talking to, you would be of some use for us. So, why don't you join us?" "Hmm..." Cera pondered for a moment. "If you let me sleep here tonight I'll think about it, OK?" Cera stopped to give Cloud time to think about his answer. {Yea, right, like I'd join you now... but, mebbe later.} Cera thought before he kept on talking. "If you don't trust me you just have to have the guard I suppose you will have to watch me, and then, if you've noticed, I'm unarmed, so I can't fight your guns." "Umm... that would work, just let us know the answer tomorrow." "Can I ask you something?" "Ask away." "As you are AVALANCHE and you've taken this place as yours. Then is it who I think it is who is buried in the grave?" "Probably." "Good, then I don't have to regret the words I said to him earlier." "And those words were?" "Nothing special, just some respectful words I always say to graves to make them feel better." "And they can hear you?" "How would I know? I have never gotten any response." Cera said jokingly as he shrugged. "Don't be any trouble tonight or you'll regret it." Cloud said in a serious voice. "Don't worry, I won't. Just give me a few minutes of silence and I will sleep peacefully, not bothering you at all." As Cloud started to leave Cera said. "See you tomorrow, goodnight." "Goodnight" Cloud mumbeled as he left. Cera sat down on the bench and when Wedge and Jessie realized he was preparing to sleep, they left too. But Cera knew they didn't trusted him yet and therefore he knew they were watching him. [OOG: This isn't as long as I wanted it to be but I have not much choice than to send it now 'cause I can't think of more to write and this post have to be sent sometime this year. As usual C&C welcome and you may also comment about my use of the English language, I'm still learning and it'll help me learn faster. :-) == If a machine can understand the value of human life, maybe we can. /Sarah Connor, Terminator II Judgement Day /Rune _________________________________________________________ DO YOU YAHOO!? Get your free a yahoo.com address at http://mail.yahoo.com -------=========================+++++=========================------- This note comes from: The MultiVersal Dreams BBS @ (209) 754-5851 ----======= WWIV 4.24a via the PPP Project Software =======---- --------=========+++=========--------