Tales of Midgar Archives ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Chapter 3 Archive 4 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ToM_3-04.txt, http://members.tripod.com/~midgartales/ 10 posts, April 23 to April 30, 2000. Disclaimer: All characters belong to their respective owners. Final Fantasy VII is a registered trademark of Square. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Subject: [midgar_story] Re:Reunion With An Old Acquaintance (Aeris, Darman) Date: Sun, 23 Apr 2000 23:47:46 EDT From: "Cloud Strife" To: midgar_story a egroups.com (OOG: Here's it is Brian now it's your turn again, I think. Well this is the second story for Aeris anywayz. Hope y'all like it.) “Reunion With An Old Acquaintance” (Aeris, Darman) -------------------------------------------------- October 1, 2003 –- Evening –- Aeris’ House, Midgar -------------------------------------------------- Aeris woke up to the faint sound of a knock at her door. She stood up and stretched. ‘How long have I been asleep?’ she wondered to herself. The knock came again and Aeris finally walked over to her door. She opened the door and standing there was her mother, looking as if she was ready to knock again. “What have you been doing in there? I knocked quite a few times,” her mother inquired. “I’m sorry. I must have fallen asleep when I came up here. What time is it now? It feels as though I’ve been asleep for quite a while,” Aeris spoke softly. “It is a quarter to six. You have been asleep for a while, but I didn’t just come up here to wake you up,” Elmyra said. “Oh? Then what is it, mother?” asked Aeris. “Someone is here to see you. He claims to know you from somewhere and he wishes to speak with you. He has been waiting downstairs since I came up to get you. I think you should go downstairs and greet him Aeris. I’m going out for a while and I’ll be back before eight. Have fun with your friend. Although I know I don’t have to say this, but Aeris please be hospitable and welcome your guest with the kindness that you always show. Well, have a nice time,” and with that, her mother left down the stairs and out of the house. Aeris walked down the steps and looked into the dining room. She saw someone sitting in one of the chairs, but she couldn’t make out who it was from behind. She kept descending the stairs and that’s when her guest turned to face her. It was Darman, a man she met from before the Black 36 trials. Aeris wondered why he was here at this time. She wondered if something terrible was happening. “It’s nice to see you again, Aeris. I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m here. If you would please sit down, I will tell you the whole story,” Darman said softly. “Alright. Would you like something to eat or drink first? I’m sure you’re tired from your travels. We don’t have much, but you may have anything that we have to offer,” Aeris spoke with a smile. “A cup of tea would be nice. Thank you,” Darman replied. “Ok. So tell me the story that you were about to talk about,” Aeris asked politely, as she handed him the cup and sat down. “Well, I’m here to tell you about a journey I’m on. I have found a place where you can truly speak to the planet. It is a place where you will be able to speak with the planet without any interference. You will be able to find out more about yourself and your Cetra heritage,” Darman spoke quickly, as if excited about something. “Hmmm... Really? Where is this place that you speak of? I’ve never heard of a place like that before. Not even from the planet itself,” Aeris said questioningly. “Well, I’ve found such a place. Please Aeris, you must believe me. Don’t you wish to find out more about yourself? I’m only trying to help you out and I really believe you’ll be able to contact the planet, not interfered by anything else. I think this will be a great journey for you and for me too. I might be able to find out more about myself as well. Just think of this, as a journey of self-discovery and it will give you a chance to travel somewhere else for a change. It’s been three years since Black 36, you need to move on and begin with a new start,” he was trying to convince Aeris to come with him and it seemed to be working. “I know it’s already been three years, but it feels as though it was yesterday. I can’t just forget what happened, it’s still fresh in my mind. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget about what happened,” she looked almost as if she was going to cry. “I’m not asking you to forget, but I’m asking you to come with me and maybe you’ll be able to better understand what happened three years ago. I believe this will be good for you and I think you feel the same way,” Darman comforted Aeris. “You’re right. I should move on and go on this journey with you. If I can understand more about myself, then why not take the chance and go to this place you speak of. This adventure might be able to help ease my memories just a little and I may even be able to forget some of what happened. I can’t live my life in the past forever, it will be better to move on. I guess it’s settled then, I will go on this journey with you. I feel it would be best if we leave early tomorrow morning though and get a fresh start. I’m sure you are tired from your travels here and we have a guest room upstairs. Please make yourself at home. We will have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, if we are to start our journey,” Aeris began to smile and got up to leave for her room. “We will have to stop in Sector One before we can begin our journey. I have some unfinished business to attend to there and I’m sure we can pick up some items for our travels. Have a goodnight and sleep well, for we will set out early tomorrow for Sector One,” Darman stood up and walked up the steps. “I’m putting my trust in you, but I believe you know what you’re doing,” Aeris spoke, with a hint of question in her voice. “Yes, well goodnight,” with that Darman disappeared up the stairs. “Something seems out of place here. Why would we need to go to Sector One in the first place? Wouldn’t he have finished his business before coming here? It’s late and I’m doing too much thinking. I had better just stay alert and hope this feeling I have is only that, a feeling,” Aeris said to herself, as she ascended the stairs. She didn’t notice a figure at the top of the steps listening to her private conversation. Darman snuck back to the guest room and lay on the bed. He kept his ears open listening to the sounds coming from the other room. All he heard was the sound of a door closing, the switch of a light, and the rustle of sheets. Then he too decided to turn off his light, but he didn’t fall asleep until thinking one last thought. “If she finds out why were going to Sector One, I’m really screwed!” and with that, he fell into a deep listless sleep. -------------------------------------------------- “Reunion With An Old Acquaintance” (Aeris, Darman) By: Serenity and Brian -------------------------------------------------- ________________________________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free E-mail from MSN Hotmail at http://www.hotmail.com ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Your high school sweetheart-where is he now? With 4.4 million alumni already registered at Classmates.com, there's a good chance you'll find her here. Visit your online high school class reunion at: http://click.egroups.com/1/3139/6/_/441326/_/956548068/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Subject: [midgar_story] The Lone Gunman Date: Mon, 24 Apr 2000 19:22:11 EDT From: chyldofequity a aol.com To: midgar_story a egroups.com October 1, 2003 7:28AM MST Sector 5 Slum Dawn in the Midgar slums, it still seems like night there. "Up with the sun is a figurative term, in the slums, you can't see the sun at all. Even so, Killian Duran was out for his morning run. Running through the Sector 5 slum in the early morning let him see things that most people don't, like the area that was decimated by Black 36, it's a ghost town..almost. A few assorted Mako-altered beasts live there, along with the occasional squatter holed up in an abandoned building. He kept running, through the business district where the bakeries were exuding the odor of fresh bread. He kept running, to the home stretch, his street, and up the stairs of his apartment building. After catching his breath it was right into cool down stretches, and then to the shower and dressing for the day. 9:30 MST Sector 6 Slum Shooting Range *CRACK* *CRACKCRACKCRACK* *CRACK* *CRACK* The methodical, rhythmic discharge of a gun. An entire magazine emptied into the paper target. The retrieve button was pressed and the target reeled in to the booth. Precise shots to the head, neck and torso, he didn't miss once. His pistol's cartridge was ejected, and a new one put in before he holstered it. A new target was put up, and a gun from his collection, a MLR-25 Shotgun, one of his finer pieces. "The only bad part about target shooting with this," he mused as he raised the gun and aimed, "Is the fact that one shot trashes a target." *BOOM* THe target's torso section was removed as the shot, accellerated by Mako, hit the neck and ripped it to shreads. Were he less skilled with the weapon, it would have hit in the torso, killing slower, being beheaded by a shotgun blast must be more pleasant then being bisected. 2:30PM MST STRIKE Office "I'm sorry sir, but you'll have to come back some other time, we're not accepting applications now." The same response he has gotten every week, every time he comes in, they're not accepting applications. With a muttered curse, he exited the office, making his way home.He'd have to find some way to impress a high ranking officer then. Gunsmithing was a hobby, although it was helping him eke out an existence, it wasn't what he wanted to do for a living. Arriving in his appartment, he flopped on his bed, falling into a shallow sleep, mumbling random insults at the STRIKE recruitment, or the lack of. Summary:Morning run, then to the shooting range, then to the STRIKE office to be rejected again. (OOG: Not too bad, but Killy's in, and if ya want ta use his SkillZ, talk to me.) ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Good friends, school spirit, hair-dos you'd like to forget. Classmates.com has them all. And with 4.4 million alumni already registered, there's a good chance you'll find your friends here: http://click.egroups.com/1/2885/6/_/441326/_/956621662/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Subject: [midgar_story] A Long Lost Enemy Date: Tue, 25 Apr 2000 00:18:56 -0000 From: trixalis a yahoo.com To: midgar_story a egroups.com A Long Lost Enemy Part One of Two Rooke awakened to the sound of squawking coming from outside his room window. After late last night, he booked a small room in an Inn. He was so stirred with thoughts and emotions that he didn't get to sleep until very late. It was almost noon and Rooke realized he hadn't fed Guru since afternoon the other day. "Guru! I forgot!" he yelled. He grabbed his things and ran down the stairs. He walked outside to meet his Chocobo, it looked angry. "Sorry Guru. Tell you what, I'll feed you some real food , no bland Chocobo greens this time." he offered. The Chocobo nodded, understanding the words real food. Rooke let some of the sections of Midgar come back to his memory. He wandered around mentally plotting a course to the nearest restaurant. He took a few twists and turns, strolling down the various walkways and streets. Rooke noticed many shopkeepers set up tents and shacks along the side of the road. It seemed the residential and commercial areas were very well integrated and that the industrial zones of the city were somewhat secluded. Rooke found it made sense, because it kept the noise and pollution of the factories away from the public and at the same time, making it easier for them to commute to areas where they could buy and sell goods. At last, he found a restaurant on the corner of the block. He could hear sizzling and food being dished into plates and bowls. There must have been a big crowd, as Rooke could also hear cheering and laughter. He asked Guru to stand outside and wait while he got the food before walking into the open doorway. A few heads turned to see who walked in , but quickly lost interest. Their attention was absorbed in a Chocobo race that was on a TV, fastened to a platform on the ceiling. Rooke didn't very much care , he was in enough of them and really just wanted some food. He sat on a vacant stool in front of the bar. A short chef in a white apron and wearing a headband pointed at rook and asked, "And for you?" Rooke quickly glanced at a menu behind the chef and saw his favorite food , he ate it anywhere it was served , which weren't many places. "Korean BBQ Plate." he ordered. The chef opened the palm of his hand and stared at Rook. "Here, you pay first." He said coldly. Rooke smiled to himself and guessed the restaurant had it's share of freeloaders in the past. "Right, here you go." said Rooke has he handed him the price. The chef went right to it, Rooke was amazed by his quickness. He turned a few dials on a long metal sheet , Rooke felt the heat radiate from the metal. The chef threw some slabs of meat on. The stove hissed loudly as it began to burn into the pink muscle. Then he scooped up a handful of fresh vegetables and tossed them across the stove. He grabbed some sauce and sprayed it over the cooking food. The cleavers he was using seemed to slice and dice everything at once, the blades made scratching sounds as cut and mixed the ingredients together. In almost no time, he tossed it all off the stove and onto a warm plate and slid it down the bar, stopping just in the front of Rooke. At that instant the chef looked as if he forgot he ever cooked it, he just went back to taking orders as fast as he could. Rooke forked some of the meat , it was the best he ever tasted. But as good as it was, it didn't improve his mood. He had a grim expression remembering the other night. An old man with light blue eyes and a beard had been sitting next to him drinking a beer. "Got troubles on your mind?" he asked in a withered voice. Rooke didn't look up , he just mumbled , "Yeah, I lost someone I kinda looked up to." Rooke knew that was an understatement, but decided we wanted nothing more than to forget his problems for the time being. The man nodded knowingly. "And this person was a hero to you?" he asked. Rooke nodded , while eating some more of his meal. "Why don't you be your own hero?" the man suggested. Rooke looked at the man for the first time. "Huh?" wondered Rooke aloud. The man smiled and said, "Tell me something, do you think if your friend were here today, that person would want you trumpeting them as a hero?" Rooke stared at his plate. "Um. No, he'd probably be like Shu'up fool, just doin my job!" he answered. The old man laughed. "You see? You looked up to him for what he did because you thought it was really special, but to him it was merely something he had to do, an object in his way. You should take after him, follow your destiny in your own image, don't live in someone else's shadow all your life. Be the source of your own inspiration." he explained. Rooke smiled and said, "You are a wise man." The man just smiled back. He finished his beer and left a tip before walking out. The chef ran by and snatched the tip as soon as it hit the bar table , and then ran back to his orders. Rooke slowly savored his daily meal, there was a sudden roar from the crowd as they cheered the winning racer. Things seemed to quiet down for the cooking staff, lunch hour was drawing to a close. The chef strolled by and asked Rooke if he wanted anything else. "Three shrimp rolls to go." he ordered, handing the chef the gil. The crowd started thinning out, and some suspicious looking strangers came walking in. Rooke caught the chef giving a dirty look as they sat down. A bulky, ragged man with a tattoo on his forehead that said Hefty, forcefully grabbed Rooke's shoulder. "Yo, that's MY seat chump." he growled. Rooke just turned his head, "It's my seat now." he explained. Hefty looked surprised. "Boy, you must be new around these parts. I'm gonna give you one more warning to get out of my seat." he threatened. Rooke said nothing as he continued to turn his back from Hefty. "Oh man, he does NOT know what he's getting into." Hefty said. He pulled back his muscular arm, and with all his might, forcefully swung his fist toward Rooke's head. Rooke quickly ducked , he felt the wind of the attack on the back of his neck. He quickly spun around and slammed his palm into Hefty's ribs. "Hiiiya!" shouted Rooke as he channeled his energy through his body. Hefty clenched his ribs as he fell to his knees , searching for air. Taking advantage of the situation he spin kicked the enemy in the jaw , crashing the ruffian face down to the floor. Rooke was surprised by his quick recovery , Hefty summoned the strength of his sprawled body , and struggled to his feet. His expression was a maddened, distorted stare. He had no focus, and was not at peace with himself, a lost and violent soul. Rooke pitied him, and regretted that he was totally going to kick his ass. Hefty screamed as he launched a salvo of punches, each gracefully blocked by Rooke. Finally, Hefty lost his patience, he shifted his weight forward as he swung down his muscular arm. Rooke saw some pretty strong people in his time, if this muscle head landed this chop, it would be enough to shatter Rooke's collarbone. He raised one leg , and thew his palms upward as they intercepted the oncoming attack. Rooke gripped Hefty's wrist, twisted his elbow and spun around breaking Hefty's right arm over his shoulder. A sickening splitting sound was heard as it snapped. The enemy dropped to the floor frozen with shock and pain. With wild eyes , Rooke faced the chef , the chef handed the bag of shrimp rolls to Rooke with trembling hands. Rooke flipped a coin onto the bar. "Sorry for the mess." he apologized. Another muscular man , smaller than Hefty but just as built , walked up to Rooke. "Hey! You broke Hefty's right arm!" he yelled. Rooke looked down at the body racked with pain and replied, "Heh, Hefty is a lefty now." Rooke quickly walked out and hopped on Guru. "C'mon boy." he said. Guru quickly obeyed as he trotted down the road. Rooke grabbed a shrimp roll from the bag and fed it to Guru. The Chocobo happily and hungrily began to eat it. Rooke thought out loud. "Hmm…I'm low on gil. I figure I'll be in Midgar for awhile , I guess I better find a job." His eye caught an attractive flyer taped behind the window of a building. "Whoa, what's that?" he wondered. Guru walked toward the flyer so they could get a better look. It read, EVENT: Great fighters from the world over are travelling across the globe to challenge all comers. Now located just outside of Midgar, will be here for one day before travelling. Come now ! Large gil prizes. That was all Rooke needed to know. "Lets not waste time Guru, let's hurry!" he yelled with excitement. Guru picked up speed as he began to weave his way through the stirring crowds and out of the big city. They truly didn't waste time , as Guru traveled as fast as he could. In the distance he could see clusters of people wandering toward a huge deck. It was round and white , elevated my a steel platform. There were several spots of stained blood. Around the ring were tall torches surrounding the area. As they got closer the crowd got larger and several reporters came out of trucks from MNN to cover the event. Several fighters were practicing on the event grounds. To Rooke's surprise he saw a frightening number of Shinra soldiers in their familiar green armor , they must have been on R&R and decided to see the fights. Rooke tried to sneak as close to them as possible remembering a word of wisdom from his masters, know the enemy, respect the enemy, get as close to the enemy as you can. They were all sitting at small wooden tables with red glass lanterns on them. They were drinking and laughing, when suddenly a loud voice yelled, "Hey Bartley!" Rooke was almost scared to death, afraid that it was an enemy from a raid. As he spun around, he saw that the soldier who yelled, wasn't even facing him but looking in a totally different direction. The man who was yelled to, looked almost like Rooke. He was taller, and had long brown hair that rested on his shoulders. He wore a gold ring on his left ear and was dressed in Shinra armor. Rooke's jaw dropped. "His name is Bartley." he whispered. At that time , the man's eyes met with Rooke's and started toward him. He looked him over from head to toe studying every feature, he had an expression of certainty on his face. "Hello brother." he said in a hollow voice. Rooke was speechless. TO BE CONTINUED… Summary: Rooke discovers he had a brother. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ High rates giving you headaches? The 0% APR Introductory Rate from Capital One. 9.9% Fixed thereafter! http://click.egroups.com/1/3010/6/_/441326/_/956621944/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Subject: [midgar_story] Awakening (Sephiroth-1) Date: 24 Apr 00 19:16:24 PDT From: Anastasius Dumar To: Midgar_story a egroups.com Awakening (Sephiroth-1) October 1, 2003 The Steeple of Crystals, {OOG: Yes, I stole that from a book :0)}, Northern Crater, Approx. 4:00 a.m. It was time. A slow ripple spread out from the softly glowing green crystals, a pebble dropped into an infinite sea of the palest emerald. From deep within the shimmering crystal came movement, the ripples growing larger and faster as a shadow deep within the depths of the crystal stirred. It had been so long... could he even remember how to breathe? The question answered itself as he emerged from the crystallized lifestream, his chest heaving as tangible air entered his lungs for the first time in more than two years. His long, chalk-coloured hair gently wafted around him as he steadied his trembling, naked body unused to having such demands placed upon it. He stood for a moment, his vision engulfed by the soft glow of the lifestream as it swirled around his feet and cascaded from the towering crystals surrounding him. He was aware of the stale, slightly damp air in the cavern, the chill breeze that managed to find it’s way so deep into the flesh of the planet. His ears rang with the gentle hum of the resonating crystals around him. At this moment, he both relished this sensory stimulation that had been denied him for so long and despised the weakness of the physical body that experienced it. Another breath conquered the awkwardness of his body as he forced his hand into a fist, and raised it before his face before releasing it; every movement slow, executed with exacting precision. Almost three years -a fair length of time for most, what seemed like a heartbeat for him. He had fought the weakness of his mind that mirrored the weakness of his body as long as he could, but now, he felt he could justify his succumbing to it. For three years he had been content to learn about the planet, the secrets and the knowledge that had been withheld for a millennia or more. He was closer than ever to achieving his ultimate purpose, had power and knowledge he would have deemed impossible three years before, but that single twinge in his mind, the tiny crack in the granite wall of his will, had been allowed to grow until he could contain it no more. Was it curiosity, perhaps? Or was it nothing more than an attempt to fit another piece of the enormous puzzle he was assembling together? Regardless, the time had come to return to his flesh and discover what had been lost to him for so long. Little more than a thought surrounded his pale, naked flesh with the garb that had once been so familiar to him, but now seemed alien, like his physical self: the shining black trenchcoat, heavy, glimmering medallion of his Shinra ranking embedded on the open chest; his heavy, black kevlar pants the polished black combat boots; the mako-tempered shoulder guards weighing oppressively upon his shoulders and the thick, glossy gauntlets which covered his hands and arms. He thought for a moment that it might be too much to expect his body, gone unused for the past three years, to manage the unfamiliar sensations and the constriction of the clothing. But his first physical movements in three years were as they had always been, carrying with them a fluid perfection that a dancer would envy. He exhaled slowly, his breath shrouded in white, bathed in green as it left his mouth. He had waited long enough, and now, it was time; time to return to the world, to discover the pieces of himself that had been scattered for so long, the elements of his past that had been hidden from him for so long. He knew where they were to be found, for it had never been a matter of where, but when: The Shinra Tower in Midgar, where Hojo had transferred most all of both his and Gast’s information on the Ancients. Folding his arms across his chest, Sephiroth bowed his head, ivory hair cascading over his shoulders, as he slowly began to fade away from the glowing chamber, leaving only a wisp of white mist from his last breath to mark his passage. [Summary: Sephiroth awakens from his “Steeple of Crystals”, where he has been absorbing much of the ancient knowledge held within the lifestream for the past three years. His destination is Midgar, where he plans to complete his original journey to discover the complete details of his past.] {OOG: Well, I figured that since I had a main, and Sephiroth at that, that I should make an attempt to actually write something, and with this being an Easter holiday, I had some time -yes, it’s short, but that’s the only way I can manage to get anything done with regards to writing. Hope it isn’t too bad.} & Anastasius Dumar. "...and with a wave of his magic staff, Bud looked really cool." -an excerpt from "Bud (A Cinderella Type-Story)" :0) ____________________________________________________________________ Get your own FREE, personal Netscape WebMail account today at http://webmail.netscape.com. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ You have a voice mail message waiting for you at iHello.com: http://click.egroups.com/1/3555/6/_/441326/_/956628987/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Subject: [midgar_story] The Damned Don't Dance (or: Mr. Adem goes to jail) Date: Tue, 25 Apr 2000 22:48:09 +1200 From: Edwyn To: Midgar_story a egroups.com Title: The Damned Don't Dance (or: Mr. Adem goes to jail) October 2nd, 2003 6:30AM Hotel del Conocimiento Util, Midgar Slum area, Sector 6 ------------------------------------------------------- Mr. Adem turned off the vidscreen and sat back, his finger still on the remote, and his hand perched over his pocket computer. After 12 hours of relentless data gathering from the airwaves, the only concession he'd made to comfort was the removal of his jacket. He'd gotten no sleep whatsoever, nor, judging from the sharpness of his eyes, did he require it. Rising from the seat he'd placed in front of the television, he moved to the writing desk nearby and flicked on the desk lamp, then resettled upon the chair next to the desk. Placing the small computer in front of him, he ripped a sheet of paper from the hotels complementary writing pad and proceeded to look through the data he'd collected in channel surfing. With quick taps on the keypad, the Turk skipped through the various sections and paragraphs he had recorded. Occasionally he'd stop and take a closer look at the data onscreen, but they were but mere microsecond pauses in the otherwise terrific speed of his review. Screen after screen of noted news reports flashed by at a blinding pace, but despite the blur of words and sentences, Mr. Adem appeared able to comprehend the flow of information. Finally, after several minutes of shifting back and forth between various patches, Mr. Adem stopped in his search and snapped the small computer shut. He sat there for a moment, completely rock still, then he nodded as if reaching a decision. Getting to his feet again and turning off the desk lamp, he walked over to where his jacket hung over the other seat and swung it about his shoulders. He then buttoned up the jacket front and place the small computer back inside his inner suit pocket, before going to the door and leaving his room. The room settling back to its familiar empty state, it appeared as if there had been on one there in the first place. There was not a trace of a guest having ever stayed in the room, except for one: On the desk, a meticulously folded paper crane had been left behind. **** October 2nd, 2003 9:30AM Midgar Prison, Midgar Slum area, Sector 5 ----------------------------------------- The monitoring station of Midgars new prison facility, or as certain people higher up prefered to call it: "the centre for the rehabilitation of dangerous criminals and their reintegration into society", was one of the best and most sophisticated in the Midgar area. And possibly even the world. It had to be. If prisoners managed to escape from this facility, they could have disappeared easily into the surrounding slum area. While this thought was disturbing to the MSF, it disturbed the residents of Sector 5's slum area even more. After all, they actually had to LIVE near the prison. The chosen location of the new prison was not without its fair share of controversy. Faced with the possibility of overflowing jail cells located in the former Shinra building (now known as the Midgar Tower), Prime Minister Evyns had to choose a new site for the storing of dangerous criminals. Expanding the area available in the Midgar Tower appeared to be unfeasible, and possibly dangerous for the workers and business people who had to work there. Not to mention the tight, narrow corridors and numerous access tunnels in the building that would have made it a haven for close quarters firefighting terrorists and escaping prisoners. As proven by certain activities of AVALANCHE in the past. Repeatedly, as well. It was quite clear the designers of the building hadn't taken into consideration that a section of it may be used as jail cells at some point. No, what a proper prison facility needed was a building that had been designed specifically for that task. A building with multiple monitoring devices within the building and guard towers located out of it, as well as large open spaces where criminals wouldn't be able to hide. This proposal when initially presented by Prime Minister Evyns with the help of MSF authorities was met with a murmur of approval by the general public. Midgar did require a prison facility, and a proper one at that. The question now was: Where would this prison be built? At first, plans to build the prison within Midgar were scrapped as they were considered too dangerous to the public and there didn't appear to be enough space for that in any case, so the notion was passed that the prison would be built outside of Midgar in a remote location. Over time, however, it was the plans to build the prison inside of Midgar that were considered feasible, and those of the outside less so. While it would be difficult to find escaping prisoners in a sprawling cityscape, the situation would probably have been doubly worse in the open countryside, with numerous crags, caves and swamps to hide in. Not to mention the fact that if there ever was a riot in that said prison, any outside assistance by the MSF or STRIKE might come too late given its location. So, now the task was to find a sufficiently clear space in Midgar to set up this prison. The upper plates were clearly out. As much as Prime Minister Evyns hated to admit it, the rich or merely well off had clearly more clout and power than those below. So the site had to be chosen somewhere in the slums. After careful study and consideration, Evyns chose an area of space located in Sector 5, one that had buildings that had been abandoned in the wake of the destruction of its reactor so long ago. With the decayed and rotting buildings ready to be knocked down, and the large area over which those said buildings encompassed, it appeared to be the perfect site. The only thing that was less than perfect was the reactions of the people living in those slums. After the destruction of their reactor and the release of Black 36 into their airspace, this prison located smack bang in the middle of their homes seemed to be the last straw. A protest cry went up by the citizens, but they were quickly mollified by Prime Minister Evyns firm assurances that the possibility of escape for criminals was marginal. And even if they did manage to get past the guard towers, dogs and the electrified fences, the escapees would find themselves on the business end of STRIKEs and MSFs uncompromising search. The protest cry died, but only to a grumbling murmur of grudging acknowledgement. In spite of these promises made by the head of Midgar herself, those in the Sector 5 slums weren't totally convinced that at some point or another the rigorous safeguards put in the prison wouldn't fail. Even as the prison was built up and the tight security measures were put in place, the murmurs never died down, and the people of the slums were collectively holding their breath for that time of complete and utter pandemonium. Today, they would be proved right. There were signs, if anyone had taken noticed. Had the people in the monitoring station been paying attention at that very moment, they would have noticed a momentary flicker on the screens showing the views from various security cameras, as if from a random power surge. Or the tech wizards looked up from their cups of coffee to note the fact that the computer network in the prison suddenly slowed down a notch before speeding up again. Or the data processing people, that in that instance of the network slowing down, profiles on the security guards and prisoners alike had been accessed along with the duty rosters of the guards. There were signs. But no one noticed a thing. **** "Hector Jaives!" The man known as Hector Jaives, leader of the rebel faction known as BLUFF, and convicted of attempted sabotage of a nuclear reactor, looked up from the small book he had been reading at the security guard who'd just addressed him. "Yes?" he asked from his prone position on his bunk. "You have a visitor, Hector," The security guard said gruffly, opening the door to Hector's cell. "Your lawyer's here to talk about your will." "I don't have a will," Hector stated, not moving from his bed and turning back to read his book. "That's the whole problem," The guard replied. "He wants to talk about that small oversight. Now are you going to get up, or do I have to make you?" There was a sharp crackling sound from the electric prod the guard carried. Hector sighed, then rolled his eyes as if being severely put upon, "Well if you INSIST." the man rolled off the bunk, then lazily held out his open and spread hands and opened his mouth. The guard stepped forward and inspected both carefully, then nodded his head in satisfaction when he didn't find anything which would allow the criminal to escape. He nodded towards the open cell door, "All right. Outside." Stepping through the door, he was immediately greeted by another security guard, who brandished a set of arm and leg manacles. These were placed upon the BLUFF leader, and then the three men, the two security guards and Hector between them, began the long walk down the corridor of cells to the visitors room. Even in this den of scum and criminals, of people whose amoral desires caused them to go up against, and lose, to the authorities of the law, Hector Jaives was reviled and hated. While those criminals hated what the city had done to them in the name of "justice", they also needed to city to survive, to feed upon its ample source of suckers and victims. Hector was the anthesis of all that, and so he was greeted with the criminals catcalls and missiles made from whatever could be found in their cells. But in spite of the ridicule he faced, the terrorist walked tall and strong, unbent by the humiliation dealt upon him. But finally, the three men were out of range of the criminals' brand of justice, and they stepped into the small room that had been set aside for visitors. If there were ever any. This section of the prison contained some of the more notorious criminals, so visitors tended to be few and far in between. Today was one of the special days, as there was someone seated in front of a table opposite the door Hector had just come through. As Hector was being led to the table and chairs that were the only furniture in the room, he began taking stock of the situation, subconsciously trying to find a way out. It didn't appear to be entirely feasible, however. There were only two doors to the room, one for the visitor and one for the prisoner, and the ventilation ducts were to high and too small for a man his size to crawl through. The enclosed nature of the room also meant there were no windows, with the only source of illumination being a lamp hanging in the middle of the room over the table. Hector looked over at the other man as he seated himself opposite him. His face was partially hidden in the shadows not lit up by the lamp, but it was easy to see the man wore some kind of suit and had white hair, indicating someone of great age. These facts did not add up in Hectors mind, but before he could protest, the guards abruptly turned and left the room. "Okay, you have five minutes. And behave, Hector!" the guard who had spoken to him shouted out before he closed the door behind him, "We don't want to add attempted manslaughter to your list of crimes, now would we?" He laughed at his own joke as the door snapped shut and trapped Hector with the other man. There was a period of silence, as the two sat there listening to the footsteps of the security guards die away, then the other man spoke, "We can speak freely. I've rerouted the audiovisual monitors in this room to another. This is not normal security procedure." "You're not my lawyer," Hector finally made his thought known. "And you are not my client, Mr. Jaives," the other man acknowledged. "But you require my services in any case." "Who are you?" "You may call me Mr. Adem. I am here to offer you a deal. One which would allow you to leave this facility and take charge of your organisation, again." Hector looked at Mr. Adem, then gave a vague shrug, "I'll be a free man, soon enough. I am the bringer of truth and righteousness. No one can deny the truth. I will be set free." "'Truth' is a very subjective term, Mr. Jaives. Your case hinges upon your particular 'truth' being stronger than everyone elses, and hence swaying their opinion," Mr. Adem replied calmly. "I doubt they will be convinced that your actions were noble." "Then my people will set me free." "Those people are already dead. I saw the proceedings myself. STRIKE was very effective in relieving the hostage situation on the train that was their bargaining chip for your release. I doubt your group currently has the resources to try such an attack again. Not this quickly, in any case. You could be in here a long time, Mr. Jaives, if you do not accept my proposal." There was a long pause. Then, "What did you have in mind, Mr. Adem?" The one called Mr. Adem reached inside his jacket pocket, and took out a slim, rectangular plastic-like object, which he clicked open. The suited man stared at it for a while, then spoke, "Your cell is located near the end of a long corridor of other cells on this level, am I correct?" "Indeed. I believe they placed me there to test my mettle and strength as a man by having me walk down a row full of zealots of lies and despicable half truths," Hector smiled grimly. "It certainly makes going to the mess hall and showers.... an interesting experience." Mr. Adems hand, the one not holding the small device, started tapping the inside of it. "The guards change shifts at 10AM and there will be no guards in your section. This will give you a one to two minute maximum window of oppurtunity to escape. During that time, the doors to your cell door will be unlocked allowing you to get out. Your cell is not too far from a laundry chute located at one end of the corridor. It's normally magnetically sealed to prevent access at times other than laundry day but that can be overridden. I will expect you to arrive at the end of the laundry chute at 10:02." Mr. Adem looked pointedly at Hector, "Any questions?" Hector quirked an eyebrow, "Would you mind telling me how you intend to acheive all that?" "It's a trade secret," Mr. Adem replied glibly. Hector tried to see if the man had cracked a joke or was being absolutely serious. It appeared to be the latter. "Well, then," Hector let out an explosive breath. "Your offer is intriguing, Mr. Adem, and I can see how it benefits me and my people. But the obvious question I have now is: What's in it for you?" "The purpose of BLUFF is to overthrow the current governement and its regime through a series of guerilla tactics designed to cripple its flow of power," Mr. Adem replied. "My employers are interested in the same ends, and they have the means of acheiving those ends. However, they are unable to act upon their goals in the manner BLUFF is able to." Hector crossed his arms with a slight frown on his face, "So basically, you want to hire BLUFF as your employers lapdog." "In not so many words, yes. I will provide you with information and, occasionally, equipment, and your organisation will carry out your operations as deemed by the information given," Mr. Adem snapped the plastic case shut and put it away. "I believe you'll find this arrangement to be mutually beneficial. You and my employer will acheive the overthrow of the current government, and your people will receive extra support." "What if I were to refuse? What if I were to wait for my people instead?" "Then, Mr. Jaives, as I said before: You could be in here for a very long time." The two sat in silence for a few minutes, then the two doors to the room opened. "All right! Visiting time's over! Let's go!" came the shout from the security guard as the two of them stepped into the room to hike Hector up by his shoulders. "Your faith in your people is noble, Mr. Jaives," Mr. Adem remarked while getting to his feet and readjusting his tie. "But noble sentiments do not a prison wall break. Consider my offer carefully, there will not be a second chance available." With that, the suited man turned on his heels and walked out of the room. "What was that all about?" the security guard asked, turning his face towards Hector. When the terrorist didn't answer, the guard shrugged, then tugged on his manacles, "Come on, then. Back to your cell." **** October 2nd, 2003 9:59AM Laundry Room, Midgar Prison, Midgar Slum area, Sector 5 ------------------------------------------------------- Mr. Adem checked his watch, and watched as the time leisurely slipped from one minute to the next. The laundry room was empty at this hour. The large vats that would have contained hot, soapy water for manual hand washing were quiet and empty, as were the cold metal shelves for the placement of cleaned linen. The baskets for catching dirty laundry from the chute, however, were actually still semi full: leftovers from a previous batch that would go unwashed until the next session. The time read: 10:00AM. A metallic clank resounded from somewhere up the chute. The laundry room had several exits, but most were covered by security cameras and the occasional guard. Fortunately, most of them were easily distracted. And if not, there were always other means of escape. There was always a way out. The time read: 10:01AM. There were sounds of someone grunting and trying to shove onesself into an opening that was far too small for someone his size. Mr. Adem tapped a laundry basket into place using his feet and waited. Moments later, a slightly slide burned Hector Jaives appeared from the chute, tumbling into the basket in an undignified seated position. The once prisoner looked up, and seeing Mr. Adem said, "I have decided to accept your proposal." Mr. Adem nodded gravely, replying, "Wisely done, Mr. Jaives." and offered Hector a hand. **** [Summary: ~~Hotel del Conocimiento Util, Midgar Slum area, Sector 6, October 2, 2003, Morning - Mr. Adem finishes with data collection from the TV and leaves the hotel ~~Midgar Prison, Midgar Slum area, Sector 5, October 2, 2003, Morning - Mr. Adem has a talk with Hector Jaives and discusses an alliance. - Hector escapes to the laundry room of the prison with Mr. Adem's help ] (OOG: Well, this is a situation worthy of the attention of STRIKE, MSF and the Prime Minister! Anyways, I think the security guards might not notice the disappearance of Hector until maybe 10:30 or even 11AM, since Mr. Adem changed a couple of the readings of the facilities to let Hector leave his cell in the first place. Anyways, the ball's in anyone's court for now.) ------------------------------------------------------------------------ You have a voice mail message waiting for you at iHello.com: http://click.egroups.com/1/3555/6/_/441326/_/956659702/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Subject: [midgar_story] Reflections and observations (Vladimir) Date: Tue, 25 Apr 2000 10:25:22 -0700 (PDT) From: Dizzy XIII To: midgar_story a egroups.com * * * * * * * * * * * * * Reflections and observations * * * * * * * * * * * * * Date: September 30, 2003 Time: 21:00 Place: Seventh Heaven Rude stared at the glass in front of him. The ice-cube floating in the yellow liquid was almost gone. "Funny," he mumbled quietly to himself as he lifted up the glass to study, "I don't think I ever appreciated this drink enough before." He downed what was left of it. "It helps me forget, yet reminds me of my former comrades." His mind wandered to the funeral. Reno's funeral. It was one of the very few times as a Turk that he felt vulnerable. Before, when fighting side-to-side with Reno, he sometimes believed that they were unstoppable. Now, he thought that me always felt that way around Reno, but he knew that it was only because his best friend died. "A second whiskey, Rude?" Rude simply nodded at Tifa. She seemed to know how he was feeling, and more importantly, what he needed. He had always liked her, from the first time he saw her, even though they were enemies. Ever since she opened her bar again, it was the place Rude went to the most. He even preferred it to joining his fellow police officers at their favorite bar above the plate. The MSF. He really didn't want to be just a police, a sniper in STRIKE would be soo much more appropriate for him. There were no one already working there that could match his aim with a long-distance rifle. But they didn't believe that he was ready for that yet. Still on rehabilitation. Probably because they didn't think it was healthy to be so quiet. "Even the toughest men need to talk about their feelings sometimes." Something the shrink once said. He probably even believed in it too. "Yeah, right," thought Rude as he noticed the now full drink in front of him. He took a sip. Another person entered his mind: Vladimir Dumainz. Strange person. He drank almost as much as himself, mostly whiskey, and talked about as much. Two friends, conversing in silence, in a bar, in the slums, sector seven. But now he was alone. Vladimir, the last of his old friends, left about a little more than two and a half years ago. Then he had to get a job, running out of money, and what suited better than MSF? Aside from STRIKE, which wouldn't let him in, unless he had a psychologist to back him up. This led him to another memory. The memory of the revolution. All of the Turks stood in the room when they found out that the HQ was being stormed. Damn ShinRa. If they let a mob large enough to plow through the ShinRa soldiers, why would he still protect Rufus? He needed an army of SOLDIERs, not a few bodyguards. When he looked at his colleagues reactions, he saw that Vladimir's thoughts matched his. Who Elena and Lars would follow was quite clear, and both had someone to look up to. Tseng, the last one to make up his mind, didn't follow his fellow Turks. He simply walked to the door, stopping only to turn and say two words: "Goodbye partners." After that fateful day, he had only spoken to the vampire, since both of them decided to take a break from life. If you had been a Turk as long as Rude had, money wasn't a real problem. At least for a few years. But that was of course when mako still was used. Now, life was much more expensive. Once again, the glass in front of him was empty, but this time, Rude felt a little better. He didn't know why, he just did. So when he noticed that Tifa approached him, he stood up. "No more drinks for tonight. I have work tomorrow." "I was beginning to suspect that was a myth," she replied, smiling. She could sense Rude giving her a look behind his dark shades. "See ya." He nodded, put some money on the disk and left. * * * * * * * * * * * * * Date: October 1, 2003 Time: 14:30 Place: Junon A giant bat was sitting high upon the humongous structure known as Junon. To be more specific, right outside the window of Rufus' office. The voices of Tseng and his superior could be heard inside, but only if you had the ability to hear sounds half as high as the faintest whisper. This was a huge advantage for Vladimir when he listened to their discussions, because when they spoke, they didn't bother to lower their voices more than enough for letting anything out to an eavesdropper outside the door, and any kind of bug would most likely be detected due to the high security. 'This is getting nowhere today,' he thought. 'Why can't they just say the name of their little spy in Midgar?' Vladimir hadn't gotten much information of use for a long time. The only really interesting piece was that they've sent a spy to Midgar, but his, or her, name wasn't anything Vladimir had heard. So it was his determination to listen every day, hidden in the shape of a bat, hoping to overhear anything of use. After the revolution, he had decided to join Rude half a year, waiting for the fuss to settle down a bit. Then, without telling anyone, he went out on a journey, much similar to the one he made after Hojo's Nibleheim experiments. Now, he stationed himself in Junon as a spy for Midgar. But no one knew about that, yet, as he only arrived a day before today. Secrets was going to be told, but since Rufus didn't expose his plans very much, except to Tseng, it was hard to get information despite the fact that Vladimir was in an excellent position to gather information. But today seemed fruitless, so he flew down to an alley, extremely carful not to get spotted, and transformed to his 'human' self. "Oh, well. It's not the end of the world," he said to himself, very out of character to his usual self, but more fitting to his alias, Vidar Pire. Wearing light blue jeans, a white T-shirt and an open flannel shirt, topped with red-dyed hair, does change ones appearance if you usually wear a black Turk uniform and black hair. As he walked to the hotel where he currently was staying, he couldn't help but notice a well-tanned beauty carrying a suitcase. She seemed to head for the same hotel that Vladimir was staying at. He recognized her immediately, it was his former comrade Elena Thorton. Not knowing if she was up to something, he followed her at a distance, and when they got to the hotel, Vladimir went to the bar, still observing her. When she was done checking in, he simply went to the counter, acting as Vidar would when it came to ladies. "Excuse me, but who's that lovely lady who just checked in?" "That would be Elena Thorton, mister. Would you like me to leave her a note?" asked the receptionist politely, having a feeling he would ask anyway. "Well, that's one approach. But no, thanks. What would be the challenge in that?" He gave her a genuine smile. Denise, as her name-tag read, smiled back. At the bar again, with a glass of whiskey in front of him, he pondered on why she would be here. 'If she was spying on ShinRa, she wouldn't have used her real name, so that's out. She must've changed much if she plans to re-join the Turks, but it's not an impossibility. What else could it be? Staying here? Way to dangerous, considering her past. Just passing by? Maybe, but still too dangerous if she uses her real name. Besides, she would need help to get out of here. I guess I'll just have to wait and see.' He slumped back in his seat and downed his drink. * * * * * * * * * * * * * Summary: Rude thinks of his past while drinking whiskey in 7:th heaven. Vladimir finds out that Rufus has a spy in Midgar. Vladimir notices that Elena is in Junon, using her real name. * * * * * * * * * * * * * So, my first post in a while. The usual, comments, suggestions, death-threats (did I pick that one from here?). Especially from Jen or Edwyn, preferably both. ===== /Dizzy XIII __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Send online invitations with Yahoo! Invites. http://invites.yahoo.com ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Do you love your Mother? Click Here http://click.egroups.com/1/3652/6/_/441326/_/956683531/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Subject: [midgar_story] "Search, but don't destroy..." (Kytira) Date: Wed, 26 Apr 2000 22:42:58 -0500 From: Daly To: midgar_story a egroups.com "Search, but don't destroy..." Time: 10:35 AM, October 2nd, 2003 Place: STRIKE HQ -- Plunking two sugar cubes into the caramel brown coffee, Kytira pinched the coffee stir stick and slowly mixed her morning drink. At the same time, she was forcing herself to be patient despite the fact that she felt like she was starving, "Ha, breakfast of champions... my ass..." she muttered, taking a sip of the coffee, her lipstick leaving a print on the white foam cup. She sauntered over to the front desk where her partner was busily exchanging words with the secretary. "That's all then?" she heard Zeng ask. He sounded rather disappointed. The man at the desk nodded, "Yep, that's all." Zeng turned to Kytira as she finished her drink and tossed the cup in the garbage bin. Before he could say anything, she raised her index finger, "Let me guess, it's either A) We're expected to stop someone. B) We're expected to protect someone. C) We're expected to kill someone. D) We're expected to find someone. E) All of the above. If you pick E, thank you, this day is ruined too," She grimaced slightly as though preparing herself for the painful answer, "So, which one is it?" "It's sort of a combination of some of them," Zeng answered after a pause. Kytira's eyes brightened slightly, "Please say 'find' and 'kill.'" She clenched her fist and in mock anger, declared in a low voice, "Whoever ruined my day must die..." Zeng tucked the light beige folder under his arm and glanced away as the man at the desk laughed lightly, "Sorry Kytira, but it's not." "Dammit..." After each sentence from Zeng, Kytira emitted a groan. "We're to find someone. We're to bring them in. But we can't kill him. They want him back alive." Kytira frowned, "Yay..." she said in a flat and unenthusiastic voice. She smiled apologetically once Zeng shot her a questioning look, "I'm not in a good mood today." Zeng nodded and walked past the front desk, Kytira automatically following and listening, "The guy we're after is Hector Jaives," he opened the folder, showing a 4" x 6" black and white photo to Kytira. She stared at it, memorizing the details as fast as she could as he continued on, "He escaped the sector five slums, Midgar Prison--" Kytira cut him off, "--How'd he manage that?" "Someone there probably screwed up on their job," he answered, opening one of the rooms in the hallway and returning to his briefing. "Anyway, we are to bring in Hector Jaives as soon as possible." "Why'd they call STRIKE though? Just let MSF handle it," Kytira grumbled, watching Zeng search through the drawers of one cabinet. "You've never heard of Hector Jaives?" he asked, pulling out two black handheld heavy-duty radios, "I wonder if these still work..... Don't you read the newspaper or watch the news?" "No," Kytira said flatly. "The news is always about deaths, bombings and politics. Life's depressing as it is." Keeping one for himself, Zeng handed her the other one, "Hector Jaives... the man who tried to destroy a nuclear reactor....?" he asked, trying to bring something up in Kytira's memory. He gave up, "He's the leader of BLUFF." "Oh.... that guy..." Kytira finally nodded, "Ok, well, I can see why STRIKE was called in now." "Turn yours on," Zeng demanded and she complied. Zeng turned on his radio and a loud screeching feedback was released. On reflex, Zeng held the radio away from him and turned his head to the side as Kytira immediately dropped her radio to cover her ears. "Turn it off!!!!" She yelled, shutting both of her eyes. Zeng quickly turned the volume to low and the dreadful sound died, "Sorry about that." Kytira picked the radio off the floor and frowned, "Well, at least you know it works." *** Time: 11:05 AM Place: Sector 5 slums train station -- Kytira observed their surroundings with a nod, "What do you think are the chances of us actually finding him? What guarantee is there that he hasn't left this sector already?" With a shake of his head, he answered, "I don't know. But to better our chances, we're going to have to split up to cover more ground." Kytira glanced at him, "Alright," she pointed in the direction of the shanties and old rotting buildings, "I call that area." Zeng nodded in the direction of several restaurants, bars and other small businesses, "I got that one then." With that, Kytira ran to the concrete stairs, stopping only when Zeng called out her name. She turned around, "Yeah?" He walked past her, "Radio me if you find him or if anything happens. Don't do anything brash." She scowled. "And be careful," he called, heading in the direction chosen. "You too," she replied, running towards her destination. *** (Summary: 10:35 AM, October 2nd, 2003 -- STRIKE HQ Zeng and Kytira are given the assignment go and bring in Hector Jaives. 11:05 AM -- Place: Sector 5 slums train station They split up to try and find Hector Jaives.) ___________________________________________ Armed with a pencil - http://go.to/awap/ (DOWN TILL JUNE) ICQ# - 18219424 ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Bids starting at $7 for thousands of products - uBid.com http://click.egroups.com/1/3027/6/_/441326/_/956806760/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Subject: [midgar_story] Memory Date: Sun, 30 Apr 2000 04:26:22 -0000 From: "C S" To: midgar_story a egroups.com Title: Memory Date: June 13, 1995 Time: 12:21 Place: one mile east of North Corel "Now remember," Said lieutenant Ryan, "This is in and out, we are to simply kill six targets, and get out as fast as possible. " This was met by a series of "Roger"s and "Yessir"s. "Now don't mess up, Scarlet, head of weapons development, will be there. Oh, and there will be a backup of about twenty squads." Time: 1:04 place: North Correl There were six men walking down the street, no one noticed them, but they soon would. They were all dressed normally, nothing amiss. came a voice in one man's head, it was an old man's voice, but it held strength in it, the voice of a veteran tired of fighting <... I can feel wrongs about to be committed,> "What?" Brand thought. that was a different voice, it was colder, deadlier. Brand, not thinking raised from inside his coat and raised his pistol, he opened fire upon his own squad, something a SOLDIER could be killed for. They died by his hand, but he didn't care, the dark soul inside of him was in control, not him. They fell before him, Wheat falling to grain, they died quickly, but then he awoke, Brand woke inside himself, and just before backup arrived he thought: "God above, what have I done?" He heard that cold voice laughing, a shadow in his very soul. Time: 6:30 a.m. Date: October 2, 2003 (OOG: I know I'm jumping ahead a little bit, so just think of this little bit as a separate post for when people get to day 2) Place: Midgar, sector 5 slums, Apartment complex Brand awoke in a cold sweat, he got up and dressed himself, he strapped his mursame to his back, and opened the door, his obsidian eyes unblinking in the gray that was the slums. came the voice he referred to as "The Old Man". "Who are you?" Brand thought. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Was the salesman clueless? Productopia has the answers. http://click.egroups.com/1/3019/6/_/441326/_/957068786/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Subject: [midgar_story] Zeng 3: In search of Hector Jaives Date: Sat, 29 Apr 2000 22:56:07 PDT From: "Matt The Kaiser" To: midgar_story a egroups.com October 2, 11:05 As Kytira ran off to the area she had designated as her own, Zeng turned to his. It consisted mainly of small buildings, but there was one broad, five-story building that served as some sort of mall. It didn't matter, all that mattered was that it stood well above the others. Snatching a discarded piece of metal, Zeng pulled down the ladder on the fire escape, and using that method, managed to work his way to the roof. From this vantage point, almost every back alley and potential hiding spot was laid bare before him. October 2. 11:48 "Damn terrorists" Zeng muttered under his breath, "always so hard to find," again he swept over the area with his binoculars. Uneasily, he glanced at his watch, knowing that if they didn't pick him up quickly, it would mean failure, and this man was too dangerous to be left alone. "Why hello there," Zeng spotted a man running out of the shanties in a heavy trenchcoat. Adjusting the focus on his binoculars, he was able to confirm his suspicions. It was Jaives. He turned to the radio, "Kytira? are you getting this? I've found him," "What? Where?" Her voice crackled over the static, "He's moving north, along," He quickly focused on a street sign, "Bixby Way," "I'm on my way," Zeng's eyes followed the figure off the main road and into the labyrinth of alleyways and service passages behind the business. "He's moving into the back alleys, I'm going to follow at a distance, hurry up!" Quickly making his way down the fire escape, he adjusted the volume on the radio down to a mere whisper, then proceeded to track Jaives. ________________________________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free E-mail from MSN Hotmail at http://www.hotmail.com ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Accurate impartial advice on everything from laptops to table saws. http://click.egroups.com/1/3020/6/_/441326/_/957074168/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Subject: [midgar_story] Well, That was Short [Katerina 2] Date: Sun, 30 Apr 2000 21:33:59 -0400 From: "Kelly Brennan" To: Gee, I swear I'm more busy on vacations and weekends then on school days ^ ^ I really have to get working on that darn History project. Anway, here's a really short post that shows I'm almost keeping up! ------------------------------------- "Well, That was Short" Date: October 2, 2003 Time: 10:28 AM Place: Midgar Tower -------------------------------------- Katerina Evyns sighed in relief as hot water rushed over her body. She inhaled the steam deeply, relaxing her tensed muscles. Droplets from the shower coursed down her body, and she finally felt relaxed for the first time in ages. Hector Jaives was safe in prison, there hadn't been any more moves from BLUFF, and nothing dangerously drastic had happened. Things were going well. Then Katerina heard a click. She looked up at the nearby speaker - no real privacy for her - waiting for the personal announcement. The female voice began. "Hector Jaives has escaped. Repeat, Hector Jaives is missing from his cell. Approximate time of departure....between 8 and 10 AM. Hector Jaives has escaped...." By the time the statement had reached "Repeat", Katerina was rushing out of her door and into the elevator, zooming up to her office. She ran in towards her desk, the towel she had clothed herself in billowing out behind her. Primly seating herself on her chair and regaining her composure, she switched on the speaker phone to call STRIKE. As soon as someone picked it up, she started speaking. "Jaives is out, get him now. He may have a two and a half hour lead on us." "Uumm, yes ma'am," the voice on the other line said. "Immediately." But the other end had already hung up, and Katerina nodded, glancing at the monitor for STRIKE instant updates. It had come on, displaying the current situation and goal. Good, they were quick and efficient. She shook her head, wishing she could do more. The position of Prime Minister was entirely overrated, she could barely do anything without permission. Maybe it was time to bring some more power into her hands, and build Midgar up the way she had always dreamed. Then she noticed some people in the office were staring at her oddly. Katerina wasn't sure if this was because of the horrible news or the lack of clothing. Gracefully standing up, she made her way back down the elevator and back to her room, to get dressed. [Summary: Katerina Evyns finds out about Jaives' escape, and commands STRIKE to find him. She also runs around in a towel. Wait, scratch that....] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ You have a voice mail message waiting for you at iHello.com: http://click.egroups.com/1/3555/6/_/441326/_/957144802/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------