Tales of Midgar Archives ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Chapter 3 Archive 5 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ToM_3-05.txt, http://members.tripod.com/~midgartales/ 10 posts, May 1 to May 19, 2000. Disclaimer: All characters belong to their respective owners. Final Fantasy VII is a registered trademark of Square. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Subject: [midgar_story] The Descent Date: Mon, 1 May 2000 07:48:58 -0700 From: "cdleckie" To: Title: The Descent Date: October 1st Time: 7:00 Place: Storage room of 7th Heaven Loric, the giant, lifted the manhole cover in the back of 7th Heaven like it was nothing. He moved it over to one side as Tifa locked the door to the storage room. "Well, here we go." Azrael dropped his bag of goodies down the hole and quickly followed. "Incoming." Tifa called out in her high voice just before she landed in the shallow water of the Midgar sewers. "Alright, you two have everything? There's no getting back out this way if you forgot something." Loric's voice wafted down to the tunnels below Midgar. "Yep, come on down." Tifa replied calmly. Azrael picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder after checking the surrounding tunnels for creepy crawlies. "Nothing dangerous, unless you count cock-roaches." He informed the rest of the team. "Let's go then, I don't especially like trudging through sewers." Loric, just recovering from his descent, was scanning the area, his eyes gleaming in the wet darkness of the tunnels. "Pick a tunnel." Azrael stood, looking uninterested in the center of a fork in the system. "Ivan said it was to the north-west of 7th Heaven, so, I say we take that tunnel." Loric pointed down the tunnel on the far left side. "Let's get going." The group started down the tunnel whispering about the condition of the sewers and how the stains would never come out of their clothes. -------------------------- The small group had been trudging through the sewers for about 20 minutes when they came upon their first problem. A group of punks down in the sewers for a night of drinking. None of the group seemed armed, and no one wanted to hurt them; they were innocent bystanders... relatively speaking. "I can solve this problem." Azrael said, reaching into his back of tricks. He pulled out a metal tube with a stock on it. "A tear-gas launcher." He dropped a cylinder into the break-away barrel, and snapped it shut. "Don't worry, I won't hurt anyone, they're just gun powder in plastic tubes. I'm only going to scare 'em." Azrael tucked the tube under his long black jacket and walked into the light of the punks' party. "AHEM!" "Huh? Who the hell is he?" one of the punks with red hair asked his companions. "I don't know. He sure as hell isn't s'posed to be down here though." one with multiple piercings had a menacing look as he spoke. "I say we get rid o' this party crasher." Red hair proposed. "Get him!" piercings, pulled out a chain, as his friend pulled out a filed down screw-driver. "ah ah ah, I wouldn't do that." As Azrael spoke, he drew his large sword from behind his back. "All I need is for you boys to take your friends here, and leave. I won't take your booze, your drugs, and I won't tell anyone you were here. Just leave, now." "A, all, all right man. We're leaving." The two were tripping over each other to get to the ladder leading out of the tunnel as their friends hurriedly picked up their things and ran after them. "I hate it when they don't put up a fight. I don't get to use my toys." -------------------------------- (OOG: Sorry about the lateness of my story. I'll TRY to be more punctual, but no promises. And it's all yours CS.) [Summary: Azrael, Loric, and Tifa start their trek through the sewers and chase off a group of delinquents.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Why buy CDs? Now you can swap for them. At Switchouse.com, you can choose from over 300,000 titles of every kind of music. Top 20 hits, R&B, hardcore, whatever. Get the music. Forget the money. Sound good? http://click.egroups.com/1/3717/6/_/441326/_/957149519/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Subject: [midgar_story] Nicotine, liquor and fighting... (Kytira) Date: Wed, 03 May 2000 07:32:21 -0500 From: Daly To: midgar_story a egroups.com "Nicotine, liquor and fighting...!" [OOG: Language warning... even though I think everyone's pretty much used to the warnings by now.] Date: October 2nd, 11:50 AM Place: Sector 5 slums *** With her sword, still sheathed and hitting her legs, Kytira's hair flailed wildly as she pushed herself past her limits of sprinting down the dusty road. she chanted softly to herself, glancing at every street sign. "Move it!!!" she yelled, a few people quickly scurrying out of her path or ignoring her cry, which forced her to angrily swerve around them. "Ah, finally!" she muttered under her breath as her search ended. There in bold but faded and chipped paint was the street sign she was searching for. Not bothering to slow down her pace, she skidded and dust rose from the ground as she turned the corner, pushing herself to run faster. She then quickly skidded as she ran a corner and through an alley. her mind screamed at her body, ignoring the desperate plea from her tired legs. She pulled the radio off of her holster belt and spoke into it between hard breaths, "Zeng, I'm in the alley on Bixby, where to now?" A few crackles of the static came from the radio until she heard his voice. "He's near Caslon..." he said in a low voice, "Just keep going..... ok, he's turned down Caslon..." "Ok, don't lose--ahh!!!" Kytira suddenly lost her footing and tipped forwards. She reflexively raised her arms and crossed them over her face, scraping her forearms upon impact with the ground. The radio fell out of her hand and landed on the ground. "Kytira..." the radio crackled of static, "What happened?" Wincing in pain, she quickly sucked her breath back in with a hiss and pushed herself up onto her elbows. Grabbing the radio, she ignored the pain in her arms, legs and chest, and forced herself to continue running. "Urgh... nothing...! Forget it..." she spoke into the radio. she cursed at herself, clenching her jaw tightly. Her eyes brightened slightly as she read the word, "Caslon." "Finally..." She ran the corner and grinned when she could see a dark figure in the distance, running at a moderate pace. her thoughts trailed off as she pulled out her pistol and checked the ammo. She quietly ran, making her steps as light as possible to avoid any detection. Nearing the target, she slowed her pace down, breathing as quietly as she could and feeling the adrenaline rush pulse through her entire body. Hector Jaives suddenly stopped and Kytira immediately froze a split second later, her boots scraping against the loose dust and dirt of the ground. Her glowing silver eyes widened as Jaives quickly glanced back at her and broke into a sprint down the street. "Shit!!" Kytira spat, chasing after him. She tightly clutched the radio in her left hand and brought closer to her face. "Zeng!! He saw me!!" She pulled out the loaded revolver with her right hand and narrowed her eyes. Again the radio crackled erratically, "Yeah, I can see that. Just keep following him." "Follow him???" Kytira repeated, "Can't I just shoot him?" "... He has to be brought back in alive." Kytira frowned, "Why? If he's such a bad ass terrorist, he's probably going to be killed anyway! I'll be saving them the trouble. Besides, I can just shoot him in the leg." "It's our orders to bring him back and, no," Zeng replied sternly. "Don't fire. You might miss and hit someone else or kill him." "Dammit..." she muttered with a frown. Not stopping, Kytira attached the radio onto the holster belt before turning into alley to her left. Jaives was still trying to get away from her and was slowly succeeding. she thought. In the alley, Kytira slowed down as she neared the intersection of two alleyways. she thought, tightly gripping her pistol even harder and glancing nervously to the left before her head turned to the right. Jaives suddenly appeared on her right and rammed into her with his shoulder, forcing the breath out of her lungs. Kytira cried out in shock and staggered back a step or two before falling on her back to the ground. She groaned aloud as the sound of Jaives' footsteps drifter away from her and towards the back entrance of one of the nearby buildings. With the gun still in her hand, Kytira narrowed her eyes fiercely and extended her right arm out, firing off two shots angrily. Luckily for Jaives, the metal door he had opened, acted as a shield for his life in that one moment. "Kytira?? Are you okay? What happened?" Kytira quickly got to her feet and headed to the door, "Hector Jaives is what happened," she grumbled loud enough for the radio, glancing up at the sign above the entrance, "Zeng, just get your butt over to.. Tim's Tap...as soon as you can." She opened the metal door and stepped inside, wincing at the overpowering smell of nicotine and liquor. "Kytira," the radio spoke up again, "Be careful. I've heard of that place and they've got a lot of BLU--" All that she could make out from the radio after that was incoherent crackles and parts of speech. She swallowed hard and stuffed her revolver back into its holster before walking down the smoky hallway. She passed through a two wooden swinging doors to find herself in the crowed, loud and busy bar. Music was blasting from the speakers in the opposite corner near the main entrance. To her right, the bartender, a rather tall and lanky looking man, glanced up at her with a glare before returning to his glass cleaning duties. To her left, a TV switched on to the news channel. Kytira quietly and cautiously walked through the bar, taking notice of the sudden hostile looks from several of the customers, as she scanned everyone's face to find the BLUFF leader. Having no luck, she sauntered up to the bartender and cleared her throat as she leaned her elbows against the bar, "Excuse me... but I'm looking for someone, have you seen him?" She then went into details of Hector Jaives' appearance before mentioning his name. "Did you see him come in?" "N-no..." The bartender answered quickly, not even looking up at her when she spoke. "I've never seen anyone like that..." Kytira backed up, a skeptical look crossing her face, "Alright then..." She turned around to walk away and bumped right into someone, falling back onto a barstool. She narrowed her eyes and stared at the man who blocked her and was now exhaling a puff of smoke indirectly at her hair. She coughed and the butch man took it as his queue to speak, "You looking for Hector Jaives?" "That's none of your concern..." Kytira answered grimly, getting up and sidestepping him with a glare. The light jingling of the chains adorning a leather jacket was heard behind Kytira before a hand fell upon on her shoulder, forcing her to turn around, "Actually, Jaives is none of YOUR concern," another typical scumbag uttered. Kytira glared at him furiously, her temper rising, "Look here, asshole. I'm in one shitty mood, so I suggest you get away from me if you want to remain alive." Now with two other behind him as backers, the man behind Kytira shoved her with one hand. "PMS, huh?" She tipped forwards, quickly regaining her balance. She tightened her jaw, "Back off, NOW!!" The man in her face guffawed before deeply inhaling his cigarette and exhaled the puff of smoke in her face. "It's fucking STRIKE shits like you that shouldn't remain alive." With a smirk, Kytira quickly muttered an insult about BLUFF and a few onlookers exchanged looks nervously. "Damn bitch...!!" The one in her face dropped the cigarette and, before he could throw a punch, Kytira's right fist slammed into throat and he dropped to his knees, coughing as he clutched his neck. Kytira's left foot flew out from behind her and the heel of her boot connected with another man's groin. When he sank to his knees, she spun around and quickly bashed her knee into his face, leaving traces of his blood on her skin. Drawing out her sword, Kytira backed up and took a defensive stance to fend off the two others behind her, plus the one getting up from his barstool. Her thoughts were cut short as a pair of arms appeared from behind her and wrapped around her and her arms, leaving her unable to use the weapon she held as she was lifted a foot off the ground. Kytira squirmed and kicked her legs wildly in the grip. The blade was finally snatched away from her hold as she desperately struggled to fight back. One man, with average height and a pony tail, laughed mockingly, "Almighty STRIKE, huh? Pathetic if you ask me. Not even worth killing." The man on his left looked at him with a baffled expression, "So you mean we're not even going to kill her?" Tossing his ponytail over his shoulders, he smirked, "Just because she's not worth killing, doesn't mean we're not going to--" "ICE!!!" a voice from nearby the bartender yelled. A block of ice slammed into one of the men who created the domino effect of knocking over the pony-tailed man and the other scumbag beside him. Kytira quickly lowered her head and sank her teeth into the arm of the man holding her captive. His grip lessened and Kytira kicked him away before punching him in the face and into unconsciousness. She turned and remained as the audience as Zeng finished off the rest of them while other customers in the bar fled to the exits. Zeng lunged forward, his fist landing in the pony-tailed man's jaw along with the flames that leapt from his hand. The flames quickly engulfed the man as he frantically ran around the area as a human torch. Kytira watched silently, making a face. He finally dropped to the concrete ground, parts of him still flaming. She finally glanced up at Zeng, who was looking over the damage done, and said, "Good timing as usual." He gave a quick nod before finally asking, "Where's Jaives?" Kytira paused, her eyes widening, "Oh shit!!!" She crossed her left hand over her stomach and smacked her forehead with her right opened palm in time with an imaginary rhythm, "I forgot all about him, I'm such an idiot!!" She sighed and gave Zeng an apologetic gaze, "He must've gotten away during the fight.... sorry." *** (Summary: Kytira chases Hector Jaives into a bar. A fight breaks out. Zeng shows up. Fight ends and Hector Jaives is nowhere in sight.) -- Armed with a pencil - http://go.to/awap/ (DOWN TILL JUNE) ICQ# - 18219424 ------------------------------------------------------------------------ You have a voice mail message waiting for you at iHello.com: http://click.egroups.com/1/3555/6/_/441326/_/957412426/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Subject: [midgar_story] A Long Lost Enemy Part 2of2 Date: Fri, 05 May 2000 18:48:12 -0000 From: trixalis a yahoo.com To: midgar_story a egroups.com A Long Lost Enemy Part Two of Two Rooke's brother continued to look at him with evil eyes. "Yes Rooke, I am indeed your brother. I'm impressed, you look strong. Well, now that I finally found you, I'm positive you'll join your only blood brother in Shinra's destiny." he said coldly. "You…you, can't possibly be my brother…" he managed to reply, with a furious expression. The man laughed and said, "Oh, I'm pretty sure of it, I see the resemblance, and I know you see it too. You probably want to know what happened to our parents. Well, they wanted me to stay out of Shinra, they hated it, but what can I say? I had to go where my heart lead me. The offensive on our village was quick as were their deaths when the homes were razed. The week before that day, when I left to join, they took you away where I couldn't find you and make you into a Shinra follower." the man explained. Rooke looked in pain, trying to accept another hard loss. "What is your name, so I know what to scratch into your tombstone after I kill you." Rooke threatened. The man looked surprised to hear that. "The name is Marko. Why don't you enter the competition? See what years of dedicated combat experience can do to you." offered Marko. Rooke stared into Marko's evil eyes before slowly turning his back. He approached a small desk with a man sitting there. "I'm here to sign up." he said coldly. The man looked up and replied, "Good, sign up time is almost over." Rooke filled out the registration and reported to the waiting area as he was told. He had to leave his weapons and armor with the managers, as they were not allowed. Rooke had to wait for hours, as the crowd expanded and the fighters prepped. MNN reporters interviewed the fighters. Rooke had been training for that time and studied his competition. Finally, it began to get dark, the crowd sounded like a rushing waterfall. The lanterns on the tables began to glow brighter as the sky grew darker. At last, an announcer stepped onto the platform wearing a sparkling jacket. In a booming voice he began to speak through his microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen! The masses have gathered once again to witness some of the world's most ultimate professional fighters!! Brave competitors will be locked in duel until one of them is knocked out. As each fighter is eliminated, only two will remain to decide the final victor. May the best warrior win!" he said. The first two fighters came onto the platform. One of them was shorter than the other, with long braided hair and gray pants. He moved like lightning swinging his arms and legs. He flipped and maneuvered like a gymnast. The other man was big with a barrel chest, baggy pants and gold chains around his neck. He was bulky and slow as he glided towards the middle of the stage. The smaller fighter moved quicker than the audience could keep up, there was a sudden thwack, thwack as the muscular fighter took two hits in the head. He retaliated by swinging his fists down and pummeling the enemy. The smaller fighter was quick to come back, swinging and moving in a storm of kicks and punches. The heavy fighter began to lose his balance and almost fell over with each impact, but managed to stay on his feet. Suddenly the heavy fighter grasped the adversary's neck from behind and drove his knuckles into the skull of his opponent. He was definitely down this time, and didn't get up. The ref waved to signal a knockout. All through the night each battle, was longer and harder than the next. Finally, four fighters were left remaining. Marko, Rooke, a fighter dressed in red and a fighter wearing a white bandana. The first match was between Rooke and the red fighter. Rooke had endured a few fights earlier, but was more than ready to continue. The red fighter wore a jacket and pants and had dark glasses over his eyes. He was just as tall as Rooke. The ref signaled to start the match. The red fighter began to size Rooke up, figuring out how to approach him. Rooke waited patiently for his enemy to move first, he relaxed his muscles and kept lose, waiting to strike with a sudden burst of strength and speed. The red fighter got a running start, and leaped into the air, poised to kick Rooke from above. Rooke quickly shifted to the side as the red fighter hit nothing but air. He landed hard and had his back turned to Rooke. To take advantage of this, Rooke swung his arm to chop the enemy. The enemy was more experienced than Rooke anticipated, the red fighter spun around and blocked the chop, then swung his foot into Rooke's ribs. There was a sudden cheer from the crowd. Rooke wasted no time, with the enemy's leg still up, Rooke spun around and tripped the enemy with the heel of his foot. Rooke then leaped into the air, waiting to drop his fist into the red fighter. But the red fighter was too quick and rolled out of the way. Rooke hurt his fist on the hard platform. The red fighter swung toward Rooke's ribs again, but he was prepared. Rooke locked the enemy's fist in his arm and threw a solid chop into the fighter's neck. With his arm still locked, Rooke thrust his foot into the fighter, sending him down. Rooke thought he had him down for good, but was surprised when the red fighter sprung back up. The fighter this time, lunged forward and grabbed Rooke's wrist, he pulled Rooke's arm throwing him over his shoulder. He hit the ground with a thud. The fighter was a blurred figure approaching Rooke, he knew it was over if he didn't do something quick, with all of his effort, he swung his feet into the air and clobbered the fighter's forehead. The enemy collapsed to one knee. Rooke sprung up and prepared for his finisher, he pushed off of the enemy's knee with his foot, launching himself into the air and dropped his heel into the red fighter's chest knocking him out. The ref signaled that Rooke had won the fight. He hopped off of the platform as the white fighter and Marko took the area. Rooke could sense that the fighter in the bandana, was a respectable martial artist. As Marko approached his opponent, all of the soldiers cheered loudly. The ref signaled the match to start. The white fighter kicked high into the air, aiming for Marko's jaw. With amazing speed Marko charged the white fighter and tackled him to the ground before the kick made contact, once the fighter was down, Marko began hammering away at his face until the ref ordered him to back off. The white fighter stumbled to his feet, with a bleeding face. Marko started another charge, running faster and faster, the white fighter ducked and tossed Marko over as he ran. Marko hit the ground hard. Suddenly, the white fighter hit his enemy with two swift kicks as soon as Marko got up. He looked angry to have been hit so easily. The white fighter braced himself for the comeback. His opponent burst into a flurry of kicks and punches, the fighter could only manage to block a few of them, and those he didn't block, hurt badly. With one hard sock to the gut, the fighter bent over, clutching his stomach. Marko wound up, and gave the fighter a devastating uppercut, flipping the fighter backwards and flat on the ground. The ref signaled his victory. Roars of cheering was heard all over the crowd. Finally the last two fighters got face to face. "I'll make it quick, brother." Marko taunted. "Don't call me brother and the only thing that will be quick, is your defeat." replied Rooke. The ref signaled to start the round. The crowds cheered, "MARKO ! MARKO !" Both competitors had an expression of seriousness. Rooke opened the fight with a quick left cross. Marko gracefully dodged it. Rooke threw punches again, again and again, each gracefully evaded. Losing patience, Marko darted his hands toward Rooke's neck and began strangling it. He let go with one hand and punched Rooke across the face. Rooke fell to his hands and knees. Marko threw a chop and hit his backbone, it sent Rooke falling flat on the ground. He lowered his boot on to Rooke's back and smiled to the crowd. Rooke quickly shifted his weight around and chopped Marko's leg off balance. Marko fell as Rooke arose. Some of the audience started laughing at Marko. Marko sprung back up, but was met with an incredibly fast series of jabs. Marko looked hurt, but was still far from it. He swept his leg around Rooke's ankles, Rooke was tripped, but he flipped around and landed back on his feet, but not before he could avoid a hammering blow to the chest by Marko. Rooke coughed hard, as he tried to recover. Rooke ran towards Marko who was surprised by his quick recovery, he jumped up and kicked Marko in the jaw, as soon as he landed he continued to hit Marko in his face. Marko broke Rooke's endless assault when he butted him with his head. Marko looked dazed from the collision, but so was Rooke. Marko tried to punch the blurred image of Rooke he saw in his face, but missed completely, spinning around and making him more dizzy. Rooke ran toward three figures, all Markos. He pummeled Marko's neck from behind sending his enemy to the ground. Marko struggled to get up, but couldn't find the strength. The ref raised Rooke's arm, Rooke took a huge bag of gil with his freehand. He was glowing in the warmth of his triumph, the battle may have been won, but the war between his brother would not soon end. Marko got to his knee and spoke in a raspy voice, "Rooke, the next time we meet, I'll be a commander. I'll be dressed in red and brandishing a glimmering sword. Hahahaha. We are enemies, and you will meet your end another day." The crowd was now chanting the victor's name loudly, as Marko was helped away by his Shinra comrades. A shady figure whom Rooke could not quite make out approached him after he had reclaimed his items. The shady figure gave rook a small card and then vanished into the swarms of people. Rooke read it: Join BLUFF and unite against the tyranny of Shinra. Below it, was the name of an inn. Rooke, tired and painful mounted the patient chocobo as he rode off. TO BE CONTINUED… Summary: Rooke defeats his brother and is invited to join BLUFF. Subject: Re: [midgar_story] A Long Lost Enemy Part 2of2 Date: Fri, 5 May 2000 16:21:09 -0700 From: "cdleckie" To: , not to bitch or anything, but don't all these amazing revelations at one time seem a bit odd? ~ohmsford A Long Lost Enemy Part Two of Two Rooke's brother continued to look at him with evil eyes. "Yes Rooke, I am indeed your brother. I'm impressed, you look strong. Well, now that I finally found you, I'm positive you'll join your only blood brother in Shinra's destiny." he said coldly. "You…you, can't possibly be my brother…" he managed to reply, with a furious expression. The man laughed and said, "Oh, I'm pretty sure of it, I see the resemblance, and I know you see it too. You probably want to know what happened to our parents. Well, they wanted me to stay out of Shinra, they hated it, but what can I say? I had to go where my heart lead me. The offensive on our village was quick as were their deaths when the homes were razed. The week before that day, when I left to join, they took you away where I couldn't find you and make you into a Shinra follower." the man explained. Rooke looked in pain, trying to accept another hard loss. "What is your name, so I know what to scratch into your tombstone after I kill you." Rooke threatened. The man looked surprised to hear that. "The name is Marko. Why don't you enter the competition? See what years of dedicated combat experience can do to you." offered Marko. Rooke stared into Marko's evil eyes before slowly turning his back. He approached a small desk with a man sitting there. "I'm here to sign up." he said coldly. The man looked up and replied, "Good, sign up time is almost over." Rooke filled out the registration and reported to the waiting area as he was told. He had to leave his weapons and armor with the managers, as they were not allowed. Rooke had to wait for hours, as the crowd expanded and the fighters prepped. MNN reporters interviewed the fighters. Rooke had been training for that time and studied his competition. Finally, it began to get dark, the crowd sounded like a rushing waterfall. The lanterns on the tables began to glow brighter as the sky grew darker. At last, an announcer stepped onto the platform wearing a sparkling jacket. In a booming voice he began to speak through his microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen! The masses have gathered once again to witness some of the world's most ultimate professional fighters!! Brave competitors will be locked in duel until one of them is knocked out. As each fighter is eliminated, only two will remain to decide the final victor. May the best warrior win!" he said. The first two fighters came onto the platform. One of them was shorter than the other, with long braided hair and gray pants. He moved like lightning swinging his arms and legs. He flipped and maneuvered like a gymnast. The other man was big with a barrel chest, baggy pants and gold chains around his neck. He was bulky and slow as he glided towards the middle of the stage. The smaller fighter moved quicker than the audience could keep up, there was a sudden thwack, thwack as the muscular fighter took two hits in the head. He retaliated by swinging his fists down and pummeling the enemy. The smaller fighter was quick to come back, swinging and moving in a storm of kicks and punches. The heavy fighter began to lose his balance and almost fell over with each impact, but managed to stay on his feet. Suddenly the heavy fighter grasped the adversary's neck from behind and drove his knuckles into the skull of his opponent. He was definitely down this time, and didn't get up. The ref waved to signal a knockout. All through the night each battle, was longer and harder than the next. Finally, four fighters were left remaining. Marko, Rooke, a fighter dressed in red and a fighter wearing a white bandana. The first match was between Rooke and the red fighter. Rooke had endured a few fights earlier, but was more than ready to continue. The red fighter wore a jacket and pants and had dark glasses over his eyes. He was just as tall as Rooke. The ref signaled to start the match. The red fighter began to size Rooke up, figuring out how to approach him. Rooke waited patiently for his enemy to move first, he relaxed his muscles and kept lose, waiting to strike with a sudden burst of strength and speed. The red fighter got a running start, and leaped into the air, poised to kick Rooke from above. Rooke quickly shifted to the side as the red fighter hit nothing but air. He landed hard and had his back turned to Rooke. To take advantage of this, Rooke swung his arm to chop the enemy. The enemy was more experienced than Rooke anticipated, the red fighter spun around and blocked the chop, then swung his foot into Rooke's ribs. There was a sudden cheer from the crowd. Rooke wasted no time, with the enemy's leg still up, Rooke spun around and tripped the enemy with the heel of his foot. Rooke then leaped into the air, waiting to drop his fist into the red fighter. But the red fighter was too quick and rolled out of the way. Rooke hurt his fist on the hard platform. The red fighter swung toward Rooke's ribs again, but he was prepared. Rooke locked the enemy's fist in his arm and threw a solid chop into the fighter's neck. With his arm still locked, Rooke thrust his foot into the fighter, sending him down. Rooke thought he had him down for good, but was surprised when the red fighter sprung back up. The fighter this time, lunged forward and grabbed Rooke's wrist, he pulled Rooke's arm throwing him over his shoulder. He hit the ground with a thud. The fighter was a blurred figure approaching Rooke, he knew it was over if he didn't do something quick, with all of his effort, he swung his feet into the air and clobbered the fighter's forehead. The enemy collapsed to one knee. Rooke sprung up and prepared for his finisher, he pushed off of the enemy's knee with his foot, launching himself into the air and dropped his heel into the red fighter's chest knocking him out. The ref signaled that Rooke had won the fight. He hopped off of the platform as the white fighter and Marko took the area. Rooke could sense that the fighter in the bandana, was a respectable martial artist. As Marko approached his opponent, all of the soldiers cheered loudly. The ref signaled the match to start. The white fighter kicked high into the air, aiming for Marko's jaw. With amazing speed Marko charged the white fighter and tackled him to the ground before the kick made contact, once the fighter was down, Marko began hammering away at his face until the ref ordered him to back off. The white fighter stumbled to his feet, with a bleeding face. Marko started another charge, running faster and faster, the white fighter ducked and tossed Marko over as he ran. Marko hit the ground hard. Suddenly, the white fighter hit his enemy with two swift kicks as soon as Marko got up. He looked angry to have been hit so easily. The white fighter braced himself for the comeback. His opponent burst into a flurry of kicks and punches, the fighter could only manage to block a few of them, and those he didn't block, hurt badly. With one hard sock to the gut, the fighter bent over, clutching his stomach. Marko wound up, and gave the fighter a devastating uppercut, flipping the fighter backwards and flat on the ground. The ref signaled his victory. Roars of cheering was heard all over the crowd. Finally the last two fighters got face to face. "I'll make it quick, brother." Marko taunted. "Don't call me brother and the only thing that will be quick, is your defeat." replied Rooke. The ref signaled to start the round. The crowds cheered, "MARKO ! MARKO !" Both competitors had an expression of seriousness. Rooke opened the fight with a quick left cross. Marko gracefully dodged it. Rooke threw punches again, again and again, each gracefully evaded. Losing patience, Marko darted his hands toward Rooke's neck and began strangling it. He let go with one hand and punched Rooke across the face. Rooke fell to his hands and knees. Marko threw a chop and hit his backbone, it sent Rooke falling flat on the ground. He lowered his boot on to Rooke's back and smiled to the crowd. Rooke quickly shifted his weight around and chopped Marko's leg off balance. Marko fell as Rooke arose. Some of the audience started laughing at Marko. Marko sprung back up, but was met with an incredibly fast series of jabs. Marko looked hurt, but was still far from it. He swept his leg around Rooke's ankles, Rooke was tripped, but he flipped around and landed back on his feet, but not before he could avoid a hammering blow to the chest by Marko. Rooke coughed hard, as he tried to recover. Rooke ran towards Marko who was surprised by his quick recovery, he jumped up and kicked Marko in the jaw, as soon as he landed he continued to hit Marko in his face. Marko broke Rooke's endless assault when he butted him with his head. Marko looked dazed from the collision, but so was Rooke. Marko tried to punch the blurred image of Rooke he saw in his face, but missed completely, spinning around and making him more dizzy. Rooke ran toward three figures, all Markos. He pummeled Marko's neck from behind sending his enemy to the ground. Marko struggled to get up, but couldn't find the strength. The ref raised Rooke's arm, Rooke took a huge bag of gil with his freehand. He was glowing in the warmth of his triumph, the battle may have been won, but the war between his brother would not soon end. Marko got to his knee and spoke in a raspy voice, "Rooke, the next time we meet, I'll be a commander. I'll be dressed in red and brandishing a glimmering sword. Hahahaha. We are enemies, and you will meet your end another day." The crowd was now chanting the victor's name loudly, as Marko was helped away by his Shinra comrades. A shady figure whom Rooke could not quite make out approached him after he had reclaimed his items. The shady figure gave rook a small card and then vanished into the swarms of people. Rooke read it: Join BLUFF and unite against the tyranny of Shinra. Below it, was the name of an inn. Rooke, tired and painful mounted the patient chocobo as he rode off. TO BE CONTINUED… Summary: Rooke defeats his brother and is invited to join BLUFF. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ You have a voice mail message waiting for you at iHello.com: http://click.egroups.com/1/3555/9/_/441326/_/957568983/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Subject: [midgar_story] Khali in Junon (Khali Yulices) Date: Mon, 8 May 2000 03:29:21 -0400 From: kupo a adelphia.net To: "MSL" (Since it's been a few weeks and Jen hasn't written anything, I guess I might as well just go ahead.) October 2, 2003 10 AM Junon Sea-Shore Hotel ------------------------------------- Khali looked out over the sea through the large window in her room as she thought about a number of things. Her eyes drifted out to the area where she had been the night before and stayed there as her thoughts turned to plans of what she would do once in the Turks. Her "resume" had been submitted to the leader, Tseng, in a fit of attitude that totally wasn't hers. She'd never let herself lose enough composure that she'd jump someone in the middle of a street in excitement to join something. But, then again, she wasn't herself. An alarm snapped her wandering mind back to reality. She stood up and shut the alarm off, then walked into the bathroom, kneeled down in front of the bathtub, turned the water on, and bent over the side of it. The water warmed in moments and she began to run her hands through her hair, washing the coloring chemicals from it. Once she could no longer feel any in her hair, she grabbed a towel near her. She dried her hair as she stood up and moved in front of the mirror, then tossed the towel aside and looked at her new yellow hair. "Didn't come out too bad. A big change from my normal color, but." she looked on the counter next to the bathroom sink and picked out two nail colors, "Liza Frost the Turk can't have that color hair. It's way too suspicious. What color nails.? Oh Khali, this is so unlike you." She grumbled as she decided on the two nail colors, finally choosing the metallic blue. She moved back into the other room and sat on a chair, pulling her feet up to paint her toenails. Once finished with those she painted her fingernails, then looked out the window again as she waited for them to dry. *** 10 minutes later. Her thoughts had drifted again as she looked out over the horizon; her eyes locked in the direction of Gongaga. Time passed through her mind as she watched herself grow up, watched as the reactor blew and Hojo saved her, and then her period of training. And then HE came. The escaped experiment she had chased after, some ninja. She had been far cocky back then, and had underestimated his skill with a blade. Part of her admired his sword-skill, though the rest of her despised both him and his skill. After all, the chase and subsequent fight had ended with the loss of her arm and a deep scar in her back. The scar and the flesh around her shoulder flared with pain, and something buried in the depths of her being stirred. Her arms flexed and fingers curled as she growled in a deep tone, and then she blinked. She took a deep breath as her mind came back to reality again, quickly regaining her composure. "Khali, what's wrong with you? What the hell is wrong with you?", she mouthed, her eyes ringing with fear. She shakily stood to her feet and dressed herself in fashionable Junon clothes, making sure to keep the scar covered - a pink mini-skirt with a design on it, a new dressy white tank top, and single-strap dress sandals. She stood back in front of the bathroom mirror and reached for a case on the sink counter, opened it, and popped the two contacts into her eyes. Within seconds, her emerald green eyes were a bright and shiny blue. She twirled a few strands of her hair around her finger, nodded, and began to hum as she started to braid the top strands of her hair. *** October 2, 2003 11 AM Junon Sea-Shore Hotel ------------------------------------- She finished with the last braid and grumbled. Spending fifty minutes braiding her hair was definitely something she didn't enjoy doing. She would have rather gone to a hair stylist and had them do it, but that cost money, and she was on a tight budget until Hojo got money to his contact in Junon. At any rate it was done, she sighed, and it hadn't been easy. The back of her head definitely hadn't been. "Looking good, Liza Frost. Time to get used to the town." She opened the door to the hallway and quickly shut it, jogging back to the bathroom. "Forgot the lipstick." She quickly applied a reddish lipstick, put it back, and trotted out the door with the remainder of her money and the room key in her hand. She locked the door and moved down the hallway. Her first destination was the store she had gotten the wardrobe from - she needed a purse and wallet to carry stuff in. *** October 2, 2003 12 PM Junon Sea-Shore Hotel ------------------------------------- Liza opened the door and walked into her room, shutting and locking the door behind her. She kicked her sandals off by the door and tossed her new purse onto an end table, dropping the key next to it. She sat down and reclined in one of the chairs, then leaned over the side and dug the radio and laptop out of her bag. She powered up the laptop and hooked the radio up to it, then encoded a frequency through the computer. Moments later a visual of Hojo popped up on the screen. "Professor Hojo." "Khali? Is that you, Khali? You look. different." "Of course, Professor. It's simply an alter-ego to use while I infiltrate Shinra." "I see. You do what you feel you must. What do you need?" "Just a report. I've donned this alter-ego and also scouted most of the town, noting the busy places and where most of the people go to." "And of the Turks?" "I have an interview sometime today, from what Tseng says." "Very well. Anything else?" "Yes. I need to know the name of your contact in the city?" "Is this frequency safe?" "I wouldn't have contacted you if it wasn't." "Of course," Hojo chuckled, "He goes by the name of Jim Shady, and more or less runs 'Happy Dealings'. Your money should reach him sometime today." "I should go, professor. I don't want anyone hearing in on this conversation. I won't contact you much during my stay here unless something is urgent. I can't take that chance." "I understand. Khali, good luck." "Thank you, professor." She smiled as she cut the connection. She disconnected the radio and tossed it back into the bag, then pulled the phone wire from the side of the laptop and ran it into the wall socket. "Let's take a look at Shinra Security." *** October 2, 2003 12:15 PM Hojo's Secret Laboratory ------------------------------------- "How's the Durahan, captain?" "Hmm? Oh, Professor Hojo! It's in good shape, sir. Just some minor damage, mostly just dents and scratches." "Good. Make sure to refuel it and reload its weapons after you're finished fixing it." "As you wish, sir." "Do you have the logs of Khali's brainwaves?" "Not yet, but wait one moment," the captain turned around and put his hands on each side of his mouth, "HEY ANDERSON! GET THE WAVE RECORDER DOWN HERE, PRONTO!" "Coming sir!" "Well, Ben, your men certainly jump when you yell." Hojo smirked. "Yes they do, sir." "No need to address me as sir, Ben. We're friends." "Well then, Hojo," he took the wave recorder from Anderson, "what are you looking for on this?" "I want a report on her skills as a pilot. As well as what her brain is doing while she's in the cockpit." "Okay then." Ben hooked the recorder up to a synthesizer, and used the synthesizer to run the brainwaves on a screen. He explained to Hojo how each worked, not that Hojo needed to have it explained to him. He let Ben feel smart this time, though. Hojo watched and studies the screen, nodding as her brain made choices and the time it took for the machine to respond to her. He knew what was going on, and he knew what the only thing that could help it was. "Her skill increases each time she pilots it, eh Ben?" "Yeah, quite a prodigy. Her mind is maturing as a soldier quickly." "The Durahan will become nothing more than a hindrance at this rate." Ben glanced at Hojo, a surprised look on his face. "How do you know?" "If she continues to increase at this skill, she'll think faster than the machine can respond. It will seem to her as if time is slowing down, at least to her." "Ah. I didn't know." "You didn't? You helped create the Durahan, Ben." "I never thought that a human mind could ever progress that far, Hojo." "You forget, she's not human." "Ah, yes, the tiger." "Hmm." "Something the matter, Hojo?" "Just thinking. Ben, I want you to do something for me." "Yes?" "Remember the prototype plans for the Durahan's cockpit?" "Experiment Cyclone?" "Yes. I want you to dig the plans up from the database." "Hojo? Are you serious?" Ben looked him straight in the eyes. "That experiment failed! I lost one of my best men when we tried to use that!" "Ben, you know I hate to repeat myself. With the current cockpit system in the Durahan, Khali will become ineffective as a pilot. I believe that she could handle the Cyclone." "And what if she can't?" "As much as I don't like saying it, she's still just a soldier. If she can't, we count our losses and learn from our. mistakes." Hojo groaned as his back spasmed, and he grabbed the table in front of him to stop from falling. "Hojo! Are you alright?" Ben grabbed hold of Hojo to support him. "Hojo? What's wrong?" "Just my back. Can you help me back to my quarters, Ben?" "Of course. Do you still want me to find the plans on Cyclone?" "Yes. And only you, I don't want anyone else to know about it." "Very well then, professor." [Summary: Khali adopts an alter ego named Liza Frost, analyzes the town of Junon, and Hojo discusses a Khali's abilities as a soldier and a prototype cockpit with his friend Ben.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ You have a voice mail message waiting for you at iHello.com: http://click.egroups.com/1/3555/9/_/441326/_/957772402/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Subject: [midgar_story] Trip to Midgar Date: 9 May 2000 01:41:33 -0000 From: "Liam" To: midgar_story a egroups.com ((OOG: this is my first post, I would appreciate any adivce/criticism)) Hikage woke up to a beautiful day. The sun was shining, and best of all, the only noise to be heard was the sound of birds. He smiled, and a sardonic voice sounded in his head >>It feels good to be out in nature doesn’t it?<<. That reminded him of his other problem. Glancing down at his arm, he could see the semi-bulky metal implant protruding from the back side of his forearm. Hikage frowned down on his left hand. “You know, never being able to be alone kind of ruins the solitude of this place.” >>Yes, but then without me you would probably be in a Shinra detention cell, not out here in the mountains<< “Lefty, you really ought to take the time to contemplate the value of silence.” >>. . . well excuse me. I’m just the entity that saved your ass quite a few times. Pay no mind to me. . .ingrate.<< With that, Lefty lapsed back into silence, leaving Hikage to survey his abode. His largish apartment was carved out of solid rock, fifty feet up a sheer cliff face. It made for a good amount of privacy and security, as those strolling through the woods below the cliff rarely carried climbing gear with them. For those that did, there were a few nasty things set up to discourage people from discovering the entrance to the cave. Unfortunately, the lair had its drawbacks as well. He had no contact with the outside world while he was there and he had to take trips into Midgar every so often to stock up on supplies. Walking to the kitchen, he was hardly surprised to find precious little food, as it was his day to take a trip into Midgar. Hikage showered, and dressed himself in his usual black tunic, pants, and boots. As he pulled on the black trenchcoat, Lefty spoke up again. >>Hikage, the delivery should be here by today.<< “I know.” Hikage walked to the door and lay his palm on the metal sheet embedded in the stone wall at chest level. The slab of metal slid silently open, letting in a breeze from the cave mouth. Walking to the edge of the precipice, Hikage looked outward. >>Nice day.<<, pronounced Lefty. “Yeah. Too bad we’ll spend most of it getting to Midgar. Let’s go!” With that, Hikage leaped off of the cliff, as he fell, he fired forward as flares of blue fire erupted out of the backs of his legs, forearms, and out of the small of his back. He flew away from the cliff towards Midgar. He managed to keep the jets going for twenty minutes, and then had to land, exhausted. >>You’re getting better. Last time you only made it for fifteen minutes. You have to build up you’re endurance.<< “Yes but it leaves me tired out,” gasped Hikage as the air suddenly became chill, “and because there isn’t any convenient electrical source, the implants always suck the heat from the air to replenish themselves.” >>So? Get walking, you don’t want to stand here wasting this beautiful day!<< Hikage gave a sardonic grin and set off walking towards Midgar. --Liam ________________________________________________________________ Get Free Email, Anime News, and The Best Prices at http://AnimeNation.com ------------------------------------------------------------------------ You have a voice mail message waiting for you at iHello.com: http://click.egroups.com/1/3555/9/_/441326/_/957838527/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Subject: [midgar_story] Searching For My Soul Date: Tue, 09 May 2000 07:12:10 -0000 From: "Jessie " To: midgar_story a egroups.com October 1st Mid Afternoon Jessie pause in sector five, she was on her way to the Wall Market. She was trying to restore some old radios she had gotten her hands on and was missing a few parts. The owner of the weapons shop usually had the bits and pieces she needed, so she was on her way to sector 6. In sector 5 there was a large television screen. It was installed by the Shinra years ago, back when they used to broadcast messages to the people of the slums. Jessie stopped in her tracks with suprise when he sw the crowd of people gathered around it. What was going on? She went closer for a better look. " ....... The events of early this morning. Although no public statements have been made, we have reason to believe that this was the work of BLUFF." 'BLUFF!!' thought Jessie in horror. The well dressed, over makeuped report continued, "Video footage from the trains sequrity camera provides a brief look at the terrorists." The screen changed to show the trains sequrity tape, the train, the frightened passengers, and JOEL! Jessie clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from yalling out his name in shock. She looked aroung to make sure she hadn't really said anything, but no one was paying any attention to her. She watched the screen in horror as Joel pointed his weapon at the camera and shot it out. She knew that weapon, she had sold it to him a few days earlier. She recalled snippets of news she had heard when she was half asleep that morning and turned away from the television. She coukld guess how the story was going to end and didn't want to here it. 'Joel you idiot,' she thought and shook her head. "You IDIOT!" she said allowed as she walked away. She had met him a few weeks ago, she was suprised that he knew who she was. ***** "Your Jessie aren't you?" "Who told you that?" "Does it matter?" "It might." Jessie narrowed ehr eyes and studied the person in front of her, takeing in his whisped brown hair and caramel coloured eyes. He laughed, "Everyone knows who you are, your a bit ignorant of your fame." "Fame!" "Don't worry, I exagerate," he linked his arm through hers, "however I didn't imagine you would be this pretty." she pulled her arm away. "What do you want?" "I want you." "Excuse me?" "Come on, I'll explain. WE have to go somewhere private." "I'm pretty busy you know." Jessie wasn't exactly keen on the idea of going anywhere with this guy. "PLEASE!" he grabbed her arm as she started to walk away, "its for the good of the planet!" She stopped and turned around. "You know better than anyone Jessie! you know you can help me! Please just hear me out." She wasn't sure why she went with him, perhapt out of curiosity more than anything, or maybe because the look in his eyes was so familiar... They were sitting in a small room behind a pile of junk in sector 3, from the outside you couldn't even tell there was a room there. The strange young man lit a lamp. "No electricity," he explained to her. She studied his face in the flickering light. She had never seen him before. "Who are you?" she asked. "My name is Joel, Joel Robertson, I'm one of the section leadors for BLUFF." Jessies eyes widened in suprise. "I asume you've heard of us." "Of course." Joel nodded. "This is one of our secret hideouts, we have one in each sector, to avoid things like the black 36 incident so we cannot be woped out. WE have many more members than you realise and we have been watching you Jessie. You lay pretty low, but we've kept tabs on you and now we want you to halp us. He started paceing around the room. "Why me?" He stopped paceing. "Why you? Jessie your dedication to Avalanche proves your loyalty to our cause, there is no one we need more." Jessie lowered her head. "That was a long time ago," she almost whispered. "But has anything changed? Are we free yet?" "Thats not it, its just.... I'm still trying to wash the blood off my hands," she thought for a moment, "perhaps I never will." She shook her head. He didn't press the issue. They discussed things he would need that Jessie could hopefully supply. When she left he walk her to the edge of the sector. "Jessie, you know the truth, deep inside of you is a fire that burns strong. Don't smother it. We will be waiting for you." He turned and left before she could reply. ***** That night Jessie couldn't concentrate. She had the parts for the radio's, but didn't feel motivated enough to do any work. She put down her soldering iron and switched it off. As she was putting tool back in her draw she noticed a box at the back. It was a box of old photo's, she hadn't looked at them in over 2 years. She pulled out the box, brushed the dust off the lid and looked inside. There was a shot of Barrett and Marlene, Tifa bahind the bar, Biggs and Wedge, her and Biggs. Photo's from later on, an un-smiling Jessie, Aeris, Trev standing in front of the burnt theatre and a group shot of the Avalanche members that remained after Barretts death. Jessie picked up the oldest photo of the lot and studied it closely. Her hair was a lot shorter, though still worn the same way. She was still dressed the same too, apearance had never really bothered her. She was smileing proudly, she had just hooked up with Avalanche and was feeling like she made a difference. She had felt important. Biggs standing next to her was grinning like an idiot, he had his arm on her waist like he was showing her off, like she was some kind of prize. She was 18 years only in the picture, that was four years ago now. Biggs was the one who had introduced her to Avalanche, all those years ago. For the first time in her life she had felt like she had a purpose, a reason to go on, a future to belive in. How wrong she had been.... She didn't realise she was crying until she saw a tear hit the photo, landing on Biggs' face, washing him away like all those dreams they had. Jessie stopped dreaming after Biggs was killed. In one of the rare nice moments they had together, Biggs had talked about the future, their future. "When we've finally freed the planet form the gripp of the shinra, you'll see Jessie, we'll get out of here, I promise." I promise. She had believed his words and kept fighting for them. Even after his death she had kept fighting, but for him. Now she couldn't even find a reason to fight, not even for herself. The train situation with BLUFF had been another blow to her state of mind, 'does everyone who fights for a cause end up dyeing for it?' she wondered as she stared at the photo in her hand. 'Why amI still alive?' the photo became blurry until she couldn't see it properly anymore. It was late, but she decided to go anyway. Midgar was a dangerous place at night, especially for a young girl in the slums, but Jessie was used to danger. Having lived in the slums by herself since her early teens, she knew how to protect herself. 'Besides,' she thought as she locked her door behing her, 'no one ever notices me anyway.' She tried not to think anymore as she headed towards her destination in the outskirts of Midgar. The journey took almost an hour, but in the still of night without the hustle and bustle of dytime she felt almost at peace. Before she knew it, she found herself at a place she hadn't been for 3 years. Ryan Biggs 6/1/81 - 10/7/00 The grave seemed cold and plain, she had never noticed how it lacked in detail until now. So unwelcoming and unfriendly. This harsh peice of stone was all that remained of Avalanche's best freedom fighters. Not to mention her only friend. 'Is this how I will end up too?' she placed her hand on the cold stone and closed her eyes. When she opened then the sun was rising. She could tell because streams of light slipped through the gaps in the plate. 'How long have I been here?' she thought in a panic, looking around. She jumped up and started running back towards her place, wondering what time it was. Strangely, she didn't feel tired, she must have fallen asleep for a while. 'When I was with Avalanche,' she thought as she ran, 'I had a reason to go on, I had a purpose.' "I was important," she said to a stray cat sitting on a rubish bin, as she jogged past. 'Since Avalanche disbanded, I havn't done anything important, I've just survived. I've drifted from day to day without and direction or goals. There is no one left who remembers who I am anymore, I barely remember myself. If I disapeared, no one would care. Thats it!' she thought with realisation, 'I just want someone to care for me.' The sun rose over the planet, but the slums of Midgar remained dark and untouched by the light. Ulthough the sun will never rise under the plate, it rose in Jessies heart. (oog: sorry its a little late!) ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Up to 62% OFF Home and Kitchen! Buy Now and Shipping is Free. http://click.egroups.com/1/4015/9/_/441326/_/957856339/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Subject: [midgar_story] The Price of a Life Date: Tue, 9 May 2000 07:04:43 EDT From: TSignus a aol.com To: midgar_story a egroups.com Date: October 1, 2003 Time: 8:49 a.m. With a final squeal of the brakes, the train came to a slow halt in the Sector 3 Station. Jacob watched the two STRIKE agents in the car. They stood, holding their weapons almost casually, but alertness was about them that belied their calm demeanor. Only minutes before, they'd stormed the train and slaughtered the terrorists; Jacob knew that the slightest threat would bring a swift, and likely lethal, response from them. One agent's eyes glowed with a pale light. That marked him as a former SOLDIER, a former agent of the Shinra Corporation. With the truth of Mako generation finally known, SOLDIERs had become objects of contempt. The T-LAR (Thundermaker Light Automatic Rifle) in the man's hands, however, forestalled any protests or remarks from the passengers. Looking out the window on to the platform at the station, Jacob saw over a hundred MSF officers standing with weapons drawn. He glanced down to the mangled bodies that had moments before been the masters of the train and all its passengers; STRIKE had ensured that the MSF would have nothing to do except clean-up. Very efficient killers, Jacob thought. Ahead of him, Jacob could see into the next car where STRIKE officers were allowing the passengers to detrain in orderly single file lines. As soon as the car ahead emptied, Jacob could see the outline of a man in a gray uniform walking down the aisle toward his car. As the man approached, Jacob saw his eyes glowing with energy and a moment later he recognized him. Tyr Signus, the Director of STRIKE and one of the men that had ended Shinra's reign in Midgar. Jacob recognized him from the news, but it was much different seeing the man in person. Clad in the gray bodysuit and kevlar vest of STRIKE, Tyr Signus looked every bit the professional soldier. The front of his suit was adorned only by a single insignia: a silver and gold sword with lightning flowing across it in an S. Jacob remembered the old Shinra broadcasts of Tyr during his tenure as the Head of SOLDIER. While his black hair had been long and tied back behind his head, Tyr's hair was now shaved short in military fashion. Although Tyr was not particularly tall, he was broad shouldered and the wells of his Mako-lit eyes seemed filled with a deadly ice. Raising his hand, Tyr said, "Do not be afraid, citizens. The worst is over and you are about to leave the train. I want this to be as orderly as possible, so my men will dismiss you by row and I expect you to detrain in single file. Is that understood?" Jacob nodded slightly as did all the other passengers. Tyr continued, "Alright, my men will begin dismissing you all. The MSF may have a few questions for you, but soon you should be free to go." Jacob watched the leader of STRIKE turn and disappear toward the front of the train. The terrified passengers said little as they silently followed the agents' directions and disembarked the train. Jacob merely nodded to the men when they reached him and, standing, he left the train. He breathed a deep breath of stale Midgar air as he stepped on to the platform. The MSF had set up a checkpoint at the exit of the platform where they were taking down names and addresses of all of the victims for later questioning. If any of the attackers were brought to trial, the passengers would likely be called into court to testify. Thinking of the deadly efficiency of the STRIKE agents that eliminated his captors, Jacob was confident that there would be no trial. As he walked toward the exit from the platform, an MSF officer walked toward Jacob. Jacob halted as the man said, "Excuse me, sir, but we have a few questions that we need to ask you. Please come with me." Jacob sighed and followed reluctantly as he began to wonder whether he was going to ever make it to his first day of work. Time: 8:54 a.m. Tyr's sweep of the train revealed what he'd expected all along. None of the terrorists had survived his raid. He shrugged; his job was to save the lives of hostages. The MSF and the Prosecutor-General were responsible for learning the particulars of the case. His part of the job was done. Captain Wilson walked up to Tyr and snapped a crisp military salute. Tyr grimaced at the martial gesture, well aware of the media waiting outside the train, but nodded in response. "All of the passengers have been evacuated, sir," Wilson said. "Good. It looks like our job here is complete then," Tyr responded. Sighing, he added, "I guess we return to headquarters now to spend the rest of the day writing reports. Call all the men together. I have a message for your squad before we leave the train." Wilson nodded and, taking out his radio, ordered, "All members of Bravo Squad report to Car 2 immediately." A few moments later, Wilson and the other members of his squad lined up in front of Tyr. Taking a deep breath, Tyr began, "I'd like to congratulate you all on a job well-done. Whatever the media or the politicians say about our actions today, I want each and every one of you to know that I am proud of you all. We saved a lot of lives today; without your timely action, this could have been a bloodbath. Twice has STRIKE been called in to defend the citizens of Midgar, and twice has it emerged victorious. A helicopter will be waiting outside to take us back to headquarters and when we arrive there will be much paperwork to fill out. After today, however, I'm giving all of you the next two days off. You've earned it." Motioning to his men to follow, Tyr turned and stepped off the train and on to the platform. Midgar Security Forces flooded the platform and had cordoned off most of the area, but Tyr knew that once he emerged from the station, MNN would be laying in wait. The MSF shot a mixture of awed and slightly frightened glances at the deadly STRIKE team that departed victorious from the train. The passengers for the most part tried to pretend that they didn't exist; it was clear to Tyr that they distrusted any members of the organization that MNN often referred to as SOLDIER's successor. Walking up the stairs and into the gray sunlight on top of the plate, Tyr was temporarily blinded by the flashing lights of the reporters cameras. He saw the waiting helicopter, but he and his men had to navigate through the crowd to reach it. As they walked, reporters shouted questions. "Can you confirm that BLUFF is behind this attack?" "What do you have to say about allegations that STRIKE uses excessive force?" "Is this the end of BLUFF?" Tyr wondered where the press got their information as he silently pushed his way toward the helicopter. No one at STRIKE had leaked the identity of the terrorists as far as he knew, but he was sure that Tempkins' MNN had sources deep within the government bureaucracy. The concentration of authority that had existed under Shinra was not entirely dead. Finally reaching the helicopter, Tyr jumped aboard and Bravo Team followed him. The reporters continued to flash pictures of the helicopter and shout questions even as it lifted off and carried STRIKE away into the gray sky. Time: 9:00 a.m. Jacob sat in a small office at the Sector 3 Station. The MSF had led him to the office and then ordered him to wait. Glancing at the clock, Jacob wished they'd hurry up because he was getting later and later for his job. After what seemed an eternity, although the clock indicated that it had been only 3 minutes, a man in a gray suit walked into the office and sat down across from Jacob. "I am Victor Troy, from the Central Security Agency. I'd like to ask you a few questions," the man said. "Alright, but I'm in something of a hurry, so I'd appreciate it if you'd make the questions quick," Jacob answered. "Before the camera was destroyed, it indicated that you were seated next to one of the terrorists and were talking with him. We'd appreciate it if you could give us any information about the man, especially any names." "Let me see, our conversation seems like an eternity ago. I think he said his name was Joel something." Jacob scratched his head, trying to recall the terrorist's last name. Finally, a light turned on in his head and he said, "Robertson! Joel Robertson was his name." "What did he say before the attack?" "He just talked about the corruption in city government. Said something about the MNN building being a symbol of greed or something. I really don't remember much more." Mr. Troy nodded, and his face was understanding. "Is there anything else you can tell us about the terrorists from before or during the attack?" "I think Joel was the leader. At least he was ordering people around and was the one to shoot a bunch of passengers. I heard him calling the MSF after he killed some passengers. That's about all." Mr. Miller stood. "Well then, I must thank you for your time. If you can remember anything else, call the MSF and ask for me." He turned to leave, but then stopped and looked at Jacob. "By the way, what is your name?" Jacob paused for a moment, considering whether to give his full last name or not. Mr. Troy seemed to be an honest man seeking to do his job and Jacob could feel himself wanting to trust the guy, but he didn't want to risk his father learning that he still lived either. Finally, he said, "I'm Jake Terrel." Caution had won out. "Well, Mr. Terrel, you're free to go. Have a nice day." By the time Jacob stepped out of the office, Victor Troy was gone. Time: 11:38 a.m. Tyr sat in his office filling out his post-operation report. This was the worst part of his job; filling out all the documents that seemed so utterly pointless. Back when he was in the military, a simple debriefing followed each mission and then he was free to go. Adapting to working for the police was difficult. When the telephone rang, Tyr almost leapt for joy. For a few moments at least, he wouldn't have to work on these endless papers. Picking it up, Tyr said, "This is Director Signus. How may I help you?" A woman's voice answered, "Director, there is a Mr. Jeremy Davelos here that wishes to meet with you. Shall I send him in?" Tyr glanced at the mountain of paperwork, then told his secretary, "Send him right up." Standing, Tyr straightened the suit that he'd changed back into after returning to headquarters. A few moments later, the door to his office opened and Jeremy Davelos entered. Mr. Davelos was an older man with gray wings in his dark hair. He was dressed impeccably in a suit that Tyr was sure cost more than what the average citizen of Midgar would earn in a month. A gold watch studded with diamonds was fastened around his right wrist and a thick gold ring adorned his hand. Mr. Davelos was the owner of Crystalline Entertainment Company. CEC made various movies primarily aimed at children, but its largest source of revenue was the Diamond Saucer. The Saucer had been a joint venture between Davelos and the Shinra Corporation during the reign of Rufus. Following the revolution, Davelos had bought out Shinra's share of the saucer and used it as the base to found CEC. Despite personal friendships with many of the upper echelons of the Shinra leadership, Davelos was one of the few business leaders that had not been directly employed by Shinra. Stepping forward, Mr. Davelos held out his hand. Tyr took it and felt that despite the man's age, his handshake was firm. Tyr looked in his eyes and for a moment, he could see the strength and willpower of one of the few men to truly live outside Shinra during its reign. Tyr also noticed a red around his eyes as if he'd been recently crying. The handshake broke off and Tyr motioned Mr. Davelos to sit down. As Tyr returned to his seat behind his desk, Jeremy Davelos said, "I am truly honored to finally meet you in person. I've heard much about you, of course, but somehow we've never managed to meet." "I've heard much of you as well. You were quite a character during the days of Shinra and were the object of much envy by the corporate elite." Tyr didn't add that Davelos had once been under investigation for treason. Although no hard evidence had ever been found, General Cantorek at least was convinced that the Davelos family was partially responsible for the disappearance of the Dark God. "What can I do for you, Mr. Davelos?" "Please, call me Jeremy. I know that you are a busy man so I'll get right to the point. My daughter, Monroe, was on the train that you saved this morning." He looked down for a moment and Tyr saw an almost imperceptible tremor run through him. "I just received a call that she was among those killed by BLUFF." Tyr bit his lip. He really didn't want to deal with this, but he understood the man's sorrow must be immense. "I'm truly sorry that we couldn't get there sooner. We did everything we could to prevent any loss of life." Mr. Davelos looked up, his eyes red, but no tears were on his cheeks. "I know and I think you did an excellent job. The blame is not with you, nor with the MSF, but is with the terrorists. Many lives were saved because of STRIKE's timely action. That my Monroe was not one of them does not diminish your heroism. I know that the Prime Minister has denied funding for an additional squad because she doesn't trust you, but I've watched you rise from the ranks of the military to become the Commander of SOLDIER, and I know you truly seek what is best for Midgar." "CEC is willing to provide enough money for STRIKE to form a fifth squad." Tyr's heart skipped a beat, as he was taken aback by Mr. Davelos' offer. Hiring and outfitting a single squad easily cost more than a million gil each month. STRIKE's budget was stretched thin as it was on the pittance provided by the government. With a fifth squad, STRIKE would finally be able to always have a squad on reserve even when it was involved in combat operations. "I don't know what to say. I'm honored by your praise and even more honored by your offer. I don't think the Prime Minister and the government would ever allow it though," Tyr said. Davelos looked at Tyr, and the Director of STRIKE saw an iron determination to match even the great Sephiroth in his eyes. "I will use CEC to publicize my offer and to make STRIKE so popular that the Prime Minister will have no choice but to allow it. I'll not allow the government's fears to prevent STRIKE from saving lives. Shinra Corporation learned what it meant to challenge the Davelos family and so will Katerina Evyns if she won't allow this." Tyr found himself liking this man more and more. "Sir, if you can do this, if you can convince them to allow you to fund a fifth squad, both myself and STRIKE, and, eventually, the people of Midgar shall be eternally in your debt." Mr. Davelos nodded and Tyr could see that tears were leaking from his eyes, but they didn't diminish his strength. "I will see this through. If this can save even one family from the pain that my family is going through, than it will be worth the effort." Standing, Tyr walked around his desk and put his hand on Jeremy Davelos' shoulder. "Jeremy, I grieve for your family and I will do all that I can to prevent this senseless tragedy from repeating. You have my word of honor." Mr. Davelos stood and looked into Tyr's eyes for a second. "Of all the officials in Midgar's current government, so few have any sense of honor. I know that you will not let me nor all the other Monroes of the world down. I will see this done." [Summary: The train is evacuated in the Sector 3 Station. Jacob is questioned by a man named Victor Troy from the Central Security Agency. Tyr is approached by Jeremy Davelos who offers to finance a fifth squad for STRIKE in memory of his slain daughter, Monroe.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ You have a voice mail message waiting for you at iHello.com: http://click.egroups.com/1/3555/9/_/441326/_/957870288/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Subject: [midgar_story] Break Out Date: Tue, 9 May 2000 21:23:05 -0700 From: "cdleckie" To: "Tales of Midgar Story List" (OOG: I'm a bit wacked out of my mind right now, so if this comes out slightly power gamed, please forgive.) Title: Break Out Time:7:56 Place:Midgar Sewers Date: October 1st As the group walked down the tunnel Azrael began to itch all over. He knew what it was, and perhaps it had chosen a good time to express it's need. It was the Bloodlust; the need for killing, and bloodshed. Azrael hadn't spilt the blood of another creature for a looong while, and the sight of the Worm's corpse had brought on an urgent craving for battle. He faltered in his steps and stopped, for only a split second, little enough time so the others didn't notice, but enough for a dramatic change to take place. In the length of a breath, Azrael's eyes turned crimson, his canine teeth became more pronounced, and all logic disappeared from his mind. He knew what he was about and he knew that he wanted to find Hojo as soon as possible. He wanted to spill the mans blood. He tightened the straps on his bag and sniffed the stale, dank air of the sewers. He picked up a slight scent of rotting flesh and blood; the same smell the Worm had given off. He hurried to follow the trail and the others chased after him, calling out for him to wait, to explain. There was no time to explain the wonders, the adrenaline, the sheer energy of the Bloodlust or the reason for his sudden concise decision on their direction. As Azrael ran, he knew he was losing the group behind him. He pulled a bundle of flares out of his bag and began dropping them every time he took a turn down a tunnel. Soon he could no longer hear the footsteps of his companions, but the scent was fierce in his nostrils. The beasts were close, and so was Hojo. The smell had changed, evolved. It still held the Worms, but now it also contained the smell of antiseptic's and metal, electricity... and people. Azrael jumped aside as a Worm leaped clear of the water, his heightened senses alerting him to its presence. He drew his sword and when the creature turned to make another pass he dodged and made a strong downward blow, severing it's tentacles and mouth from it's mutated body. In the distance he could see lights and laser tripwires crisscrossing the sewer tunnels. He had found Hojo's lair. ---------------------------------------------- Summary: Azrael is taken by a strong longing for battle and, in his haste for bloodshed, leaves the group behind. He battles another one of Hojo's guardians and discovers the entrance to Hojo's Midgar laboratory. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ *--- FREE VOICEMAIL FOR YOUR HOME PHONE! ---* With eVoice Now you can keep in touch with clients, vendors, co-workers, friends and family ANYTIME, ANYWHERE. Sign Up Today for FREE! http://click.egroups.com/1/3426/9/_/441326/_/957932764/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Subject: [midgar_story] It's Tough Just To Stay Alive Date: Thu, 18 May 2000 21:25:02 -0700 (PDT) From: Evil Writer Jen To: midgar_story a egroups.com Time: 8:15 AM Date: October 2nd, 2003 Place: Junon Brushing a strand of hair back and tucking it behind her ear, Elena stared at her reflection in the glass window of the shop, watching it wavering among the mannequins situated there. She thought it must be nice to be made of plastic, to not have any fears, any worries, or any cares. They only had to stand in a window display all day, decked out in the latest fashion for shoppers with wandering eyes to notice and decide they had to have (never noting that they almost _never_ looked as good in the outfit as the mannequin did). There were moments, Elena was certain, that she would have given nearly anything to trade places with one of these models of perfection. What was it she was _really_ doing here? This would not be the first time she said to hell with everything and left it all behind on a whim, having not clear picture of where she was going and how she would get there. But she was no longer a young fool; time and experience had seen to that. That did not change the fact that she hated staying out of sight and remaining silent, however. She had done too much of that while growing up. She should have known better then, that her idea of the perfect fantasy life was only going to hold for so long. It was peaceful, and it was safe, but it had gotten to the point where it was too mundane, too monotonous, too staid. Still, she was not certain exactly what it was she expected to find. It was her own insecurity, her own fear that had kept her in Costa del Sol for so long. She had gotten to where she hated Midgar, and had sworn to herself that she was never going back. Everything that had caused her pain was there. Rather than face it any longer, rather than live with it, she had fled to Costa del Sol, her own private haven. Instead of taking a few weeks at a health spa, she had went to the extreme. Instead of thinking it over properly, and making a slow transition, she had just left her entire life behind and was passing through Junon first, making a bold statement, before stepping foot into Midgar. No half-way for her. It had to be all or nothing. One of these times, she was fairly certain her extremist personality was going to get her killed. She was just lucky it had not done so yet. Smiling wryly at herself, she picked her suitcase up from the sidewalk, preparing to find a way out of Junon. According to all that she had heard while here, security was tight when it came to leaving. Midgar and Junon were as tense as a couple of dogs guarding their territory. No, Rufus and the Prime Minister of Midgar were. The citizens of both cities just got caught up in the middle of the political warfare, as it always was. But not her, not her family. Elena Thorton, daughter of James Charles Thorton the III, who was safe because of his money and lived in a protective bubble of his own making, had never been affected by all that had went on until she cut herself off from her family and tried to join the Turks. Before then, she had the 'poor little rich girl', and that label had never quite left her. Eyes flashing to the window one last time, she reached up to salute the mannequins out of a perverse, sardonic need, when she caught another reflection in the glass. Time itself seemed to stop, as she ceased to breath, her eyes widening a fraction as her hand tightened around the handle of the suitcase and her body stiffened, tensing with the need to defend, fight, or run. Dark eyes met hers in the shimmering image, holding her prisoner with their direct, emotionless gaze. Unable to look away from the window, wishing that her gun was at her hip instead of pressed against her side, she did the only thing she could do... She waited. "You should not have come here," he spoke at last, his tone devoid of all emotion, his hands never leaving their secure place behind his back. "Why? Are you going to kill me, Tseng?" She asked of her former boss, her voice betraying none of the anxiety she felt inside. Rufus was serious if he sent Tseng after her. He wanted her dead. "I have been ordered to," he replied simply. "I didn't think I was that important," she responded airily, doing her best to keep him from thinking this was affecting her in any way. Tseng said nothing to this. Elena's mind worked furiously, trying to offer her some solution, some way to get her out of this scrape. She had not actually considered the fact that Rufus would find her threat enough to kill. She did not even think he would notice her in Junon, much less care. All she had done was refuse to follow him when he fled Midgar. Lars had meant much more to her than Rufus ever did, and ever would. Perhaps she had wounded his pride... It was amazing what lengths arrogant people would go to, to make themselves look better. She was probably an affront to his skills at inspiring loyalty, and thus had to be wiped from existence. And of course, he would only send the best to do so. Her chances of survival were slim. Tseng was good at what he did, or he never would have made it to the top. But she did not intend to just stand by and let him kill her. She was going to fight for her life. It may not have been the best at times, and there had been a moment when she was ready to end it, but not now. She was going to have to draw him away from the populated part of the city, however. He might not care who went down in the process, but she did. She did not want any innocent blood on her hands. Her own would be bad enough. "What are you waiting for?" She asked his reflection. Was it her imagination, or did she see hesitation there? No, he could not possibly care. He was no doubt drawing it out to unnerve her. Well, it was not working. Heart hammering painfully against her ribs, she loosened her grip on her suitcase. Judging the distance from here to the closest alleyway to be reachable so long as her distraction worked, she forced her calves to relax and her knees to unlock. Eyes locking with his one last time in the glass, she offered him a smile just before swinging her body around and leaping back, releasing the latch on her suitcase and throwing it up in his face, showering him with clothing. Even as she was jerking herself back around in the opposite direction and drawing her gun as she went, she heard the first shot ring out, and nearly felt it as it passed her, narrowly missing its mark. Feet pounding heavily against he pavement, she skidded around the corner, her body slamming against the grimy brick as she sought to keep her balance and not break stride. As luck would have it, there was a fence up ahead, separating this alleyway from another. If she could just keep running, she might have a fighting chance. The surface area of her lungs was greatly increased from her habitual daily run, and she could hold her own long after others would have collapsed from aching muscles and a burning chest. With Tseng's dedication to his work, however, she did not doubt that his strength was equal to, and no doubt surpassed her own. He was close behind her. She could hear the dull thud of his boots on the concrete. Pushing herself harder, she realized she would not make the fence in time. Not yet, anyway. Throwing herself behind a discarded slab of scrap metal, she ducked down, wincing as Tseng opened fire again, the sharp snap of metal hitting metal ringing in her ears. Holding her gun up close to her chest, she fell to one knee, bracing herself with her front foot and wedging her body up close to her shield. She had to keep him back long enough to give her time to vault over the fence. Gritting her teeth, she swung around the edge of the metal and squeezed off two shots, catching a glimpse of dark hair as Tseng darted behind some wooden crates for his own protection. Despite knowing how useless it was she fired at the crates, watching as wood splintered, filling the air with tiny, dangerous projectiles. She wanted so very badly to rattle him, to shake that impenetrable exterior of his. She did not have a chance in hell of surviving if Tseng wanted her dead, but she fully intended to get out of Junon alive, somehow. She wanted Rufus to have to work to get her, the cowardly bastard. He hid behind his Turks, used them as his own personal shields, his own personal tools to display his displeasure in the most gruesome of ways. She wanted to screw that up. She wanted to be given the pleasure of laughing at him. She wanted to cheat death. Hands curled tightly around the cold steel of her gun, Elena pressed her back completely against the metal of her shield. Silence stretched out between them, shredding her nerves and building anxiety. They could not stay like this forever. Something had to give somewhere, and she was afraid it was going to be at her expense. The best she could hope for at the moment, was to throw herself completely out in the open, and fire a constant barrage at him to keep him at bay and give her a few precious seconds to reach the fence. She had only one more clip after this, however, and this one was down to 13. She was going to have to be as frugal as possible. It was now or never. Muscles springing into action, she threw herself out from behind the slab, hitting the ground hard and rolling to find Tseng already advancing. Heart in her throat, she swung her gun up and opened fire, body in motion as she swung to the side. Bullets hit the pavement around her, throwing up slivers of it, covering her dark blue suit in a fine mist of powder. Getting one last shot in, Tseng dropped the clip from his gun, disappearing behind a dumpster to re-load in safety. Breathing heavily, Elena backed herself up quickly until she was plastered against the fence. Why was he not hitting her? She was an excellent markswoman, but she was no where near Tseng's league. One of those should have hit her. She was right out in the open. Perhaps she had not been imagining things when she had saw the reluctance in his wavering reflection. It was difficult for her to grasp, however. She could see no real reason for Tseng wanting to keep her alive. Especially not if Rufus had outright ordered her death. When everyone else had refused to follow him, out of loyalty, Tseng had went. What was she, that he would only now waver? Cursing how much of an open target this made her with her gun re-holstered, she scrambled up the fence, wishing it was not so high. You would have thought their intentions had been to keep giants out of here, not people. Grunting with effort, she nearly reached the top when her foot slipped. Grasping the links with her hands as she fell, she winced as the thin metal bit into them and wrenched on her shoulder joints. Ignoring the sweat trickling down her forehead and into her eyes, she hoisted herself back up, her muscles straining with the effort. Moving with renewed frenzy, she nearly reached the top when another shot rang out. It grazed her shoulder, and she lost her balance, falling over the bar and tumbling to the ground below. She hit hard, driving the air from her lungs and sending pain up her entire right side. Trying to get past the numbness in her arm and the tightness in her chest, not to mention the stinging of her left shoulder, she pushed herself to her feet with some effort and had to clamber away nearly on all fours. Throwing herself up against the wall again as she gasped for air, she drew her gun, frustrated when her fingers would not close around it completely. She had pinched a nerve in the fall. "Dammit!" She hissed, pushing from the wall to begin running again. Spinning as she went, she watched Tseng climbing the fence with an ease that made her envious. Glaring, she swung her gun up, using her left finger to squeeze the trigger, though it was awkward. Her aim was not as steady as it had been before, and her shots ricocheted from the fence itself, missing Tseng and not even managing to disrupt his balance. Her clip was empty now. Dropping it from the gun, not caring whether it was only one of two she owned, she popped another in as she swung back around to search for cover. Whether Tseng's real goal was to kill her or not, he was still pursuing her. While he was shooting at her, she was not going to slow down for anything. She could not take the chance that his next shot would meet its mark, instead of just grazing her skin. The rest of the alleyway was clear. It had been so dark, and she had been so focused on Tseng following her, that she had not noticed it. This meant that it tapered off into the city soon. It also meant that she had no choice but to face him. She could not lead him out into the city and chance getting innocent bystanders involved. That was no doubt considered a weakness of hers, a reason why being a Turk was not a job that suited her. You had to be ruthless, to keep all your emotions tightly locked away. You could not care about the common man. They were beneath you after all. They only got in the way, and there were so many, they were supposed to be expendable. She had never bought that bullshit. Everyone was human, even Rufus, even Tseng. One day, they would meet their end, would be stripped of everything, of all their power, and they would be as helpless as those they crushed. Pulling up and around, she held her gun high, eyes narrowed and lips compressed into a thin line. She could at least try to make herself less of a target. Darting to the side, she threw herself against the wall and opened fire, not really expecting to hit anything. It was so dark here... She needed to move back toward the fence. She could not see Tseng, nor could she hear him. It was as if he had vanished. But no, he was just good at hunting. It was what he did for a living, after all. A scratching sound to her left had her whirling and squeezing off one shot. A rat slid into view, scurrying away as quickly as it could to avoid danger. Nearly laughing aloud, every line in her body so tense she felt as if she was wound up as tightly as a coiled spring, she realized to late that her single shot had given her away where her multiple ones had not. The bullet struck the flesh just below the bone of shoulder, nearly lifting her up and slamming her hard against the wall. Pain exploded before her eyes, thousands of bright sparks, as it spread through her body like wildfire. Her gun fell from her hand, clattering to the pavement, the sound destroying her last shreds of hope. Tseng materialized from the shadows then, a vague shape. As she slid down the wall, blood trailing after her like some sort of grotesque art, he kicked the pistol away from her. Blue eyes dulled with agony watched it slide across the concrete before coming back up to collide with brown ones. Her left arm hung lifelessly at her side, useless to her, as her backside hit the pavement. Bringing her right one up, she pressed her hand to her wound, warm blood seeping out through her fingers, sliding down her arm and into the fabric of her shirt sleeve. "Why don't you... finish me off now?" She asked, her voice twisted with pain, as she watched him holster his gun. Without saying a word, he lashed out at her, striking her across the face with the flat of his palm. The acrid bite of copper filled her mouth, and despite the fact that her head was swimming, she pulled herself around. Spitting the contents of her mouth at him, she showered his suit with a combination of blood and saliva. Face spasming slightly, he ignored the act and moved in closer, pulling back again. This time, she shot her fist up, blocking his blow with her one good arm. Granted, it was her weak one, but she was not going to sit here and let him pummel her all day, even if she hurt so badly she could barely move. Tseng shook her off easily and with great malice, his face never changing expression, he struck her wounded shoulder. Elena cried out, the intensity of the attack nearly causing her to black out. As the world swam around her, and she became desperate, she pitched herself forward blindly, striking out with her fist, gratified when the hard steel of her plated gloves struck something solid. Even if it only caused him minimal pain, at least it was something. But dammit, why did he not just kill her? Why was he toying with her? This was unlike Tseng. He usually went for the quick, clean kills that were the most efficient and time saving. "Why the hell don't you just kill me?!" She demanded on a gasp, as he shrugged her from him and she fell over on her wounded side. "You were a Turk." "So fucking what!" She rasped up at him. As she rolled over, she was helpless to block when he reared back and kicked her in the stomach so hard, the air was again driven from her lungs. Curling up in the fetal position, unable to do much more than that, she could only listen as he knelt down next to her. "That is the only reason you are still alive. I will let you leave here, but not until I make certain you are unable to retaliate." He straightened, and instinctively, she knew the next attack was for her head. Throwing her arm up, she waited for the blow that never came. ------------------------------------------------------- OOG: About time, right? ^^;;;;; (Summary: At approximately 8:15 AM, Elena prepares to leave Junon. Before she can, she is confronted by Tseng at Rufus' orders to kill her, and a battle ensues. Its outcome leaves Elena wounded and at a clear disadvantage. To her surprise, however, her one time status as a Turk leaves Tseng reluctant to simply kill her.) ===== Jen ~~~~ "He walks the path he believes in, one step at a time..." -- Fei Fong Wong "Xenogears" __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Send instant messages & get email alerts with Yahoo! Messenger. http://im.yahoo.com/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ eGroups is MORE than email groups Check out our great features like calendars, storage files, group polls and more at: http://click.egroups.com/1/3940/9/_/441326/_/958710307/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------