Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction / Kingdom Hearts Fan Fiction ❯ Jenova's Children ❯ Espionage ( Chapter 17 )

Jenova's Children

By Kawaii and Junsui

 

Chapter 17

Espionage

 

Riku sighed and sank into the orange bean bag, bored out of his ever-loving mind. The only others in the house were his mother and Yuffie, and after arguing for a half-hour whether they should cook Floyd for dinner, they set aside their differences and decided to make something together. Apparently that something was a strawberry rhubarb pie. “But it even has a lattice crust!” his mother proclaimed proudly. Riku didn't honestly care if the crust looked like a Cactuar so long as it was there. In fact, he had no idea what a `lattice crust' even was. So here he was, watching an old re-run of Lab Coats.

DJ and Kirk were at the bar after work as usual, and Kirk was picking on DJ for ordering an Appletini because it was gay. Having seen the particular episode only four times before, Riku flipped the channel. I Love North Carolina! Next. Home. Huh, another doctor show… what else. Silver's Analysis, Scandalous Mistresses, FOUND, Protagonists. Nothing new, par usual. Riku sighed heavily, twisting in his seat. A lump in the mattress above caught his eye. Curious - with nothing better to do than investigate abnormalities in bedding - he lifted the comforter a little at the corner.

Below, on the quilt was a book. The cover displayed a familiar image of a blonde woman held by a shirtless, tanned man. “Whispered Heart Shattered?” Riku frowned, picking it up by the spine. “How did that get… Kadaj.” He said finally. “I asked him what was taking him so long and he threw something down on the bed. But what…? Why this?” Curious, he flipped open the cover. “This is disgustingly pink.” He muttered under his breath. “Why the hell would Kadaj ever read something like this?”

He thumbed through the pages, finding nothing unusual. As he turned a page, a soft packet slipped out and landed on the floor. Riku blinked and knelt down to collect it; it appeared to be notebook paper folded into a small heart. Quirking an eyebrow, he pulled a small tab in the center and it unfolded. He smoothed the wrinkles on the paper using his thigh before plopping down on the bed. The navy blue ink it was written in was faded and smudged in the creases of the yellowing paper. The handwriting was long and delicate, as if it were simplified calligraphy.

 

Kadaj,

I'm sorry about what happened the other night. I really didn't mean to hurt you like that. I just didn't want you going into that nightclub… you're so much younger than me and my other friends and I didn't think you'd be able to handle all the partying and drinking going on. I don't mean to make you out as a child, but I care for you so deeply and I want to protect your innocence. You're probably laughing and asking “What innocence, you idiot?” by this point, but you're always in such a hurry to grow up, Kadaj, and you need to enjoy the younger years while you have them. I love you so, my pet, and you never need fear when I don't want you around. It's not because I don't love you. This is my favorite book, and I thought about you the entire time I was reading it. Think of it as a peace offering. If you accept this apology, then I'll be waiting at my window for you tonight at eleven. If not, I guess I'll just sleep alone tonight.

I await you with open arms, my pet.

 

Riku's eyes widened considerably and he blinked several times in shock at what followed, nearly dropping the letter. There had to be some sort of wording error if it really was from… but it was clearly addressed to Kadaj and unmistakably signed:

 

Love,

Yazoo

 

Chills ran down Riku's spine and he folded the letter back into its original shape, hastily shoving it back into the book where it had been. He slammed the cover closed and tossed it onto the bed as if it were infected.

Kadaj obviously liked women, with the way he'd teased the girl at the chocobo ranch and how he'd gone on about potential maids at the hotel, but he'd never really seemed to be the type to be interested in other men… then again, the way Haruki had assumed that he and Riku were lovers was slightly suspicious.

`So what if he's bi?' Riku thought to himself, leaping off of the bed. Downstairs, he could hear Haruki and Yuffie having a heated discussion, and outside was the sound of Floyd and October warking loudly at each other, `I'll just… I'll pretend I never read that. EVER.'

Riku sighed and paced around the room in circles. He was still in a mild state of shock yet was still infinitely bored. He tugged at the trench coat he wore and wrinkled his nose up in disgust. It'd be a good idea to take a shower and get a change of clothes. Kadaj probably had some old clothes he could borrow. The teen slunk across the room and pushed open the door; he could now hear Yuffie and Haruki's argument audibly.

“—chandelier. Supposedly, it's great for burning calories.” Yuffie was saying, “I wouldn't know because I have no weight to loose. Skin and bones.”

“It's probably because you two`re at it all the time. You really need to gain some weight if you're having children, girl.” Haruki huffed, Riku's eye twitched. He did NOT want to know what they were talking about, but he had a pretty good idea.

“Uh, Mom?” He called out nervously.

“Yes, dear?” Haruki shouted back.

“C-could I borrow some of Kadaj's old clothes?” Riku inquired, now severely creeped out.

“Sure thing!” She replied cheerfully, returning to her previous discussion, “So, since you're so skinny, that must mean he's really—”

Riku slammed the door, burying his face in his hands in sheer embarrassment. “Ewwww…” He mumbled into them. He remained that way for several seconds before spreading two of his fingers and peeking out at Kadaj's closet. With a sigh, he hopped onto his feet and walked over to the door. It swung open with ease, which was a surprise to Riku, whom expected it to be filled to the brim with shit. He pulled a small black hoodie off of the hanger and held it up against him for inspection; the sleeves appeared to be several inches too short.

`He's shorter than me already, so his clothes from when he was younger have to be really small… brilliant idea, Riku…' He thought to himself, replacing the jacket. As he went to close the door, there was a slight shifting from the shelf above the hangers and an old, black Doodlers box fell onto the floor spilling the contents everywhere. Inside was a long strip of photo booth pictures, a pile of letters and a black journal with a pen still inside the spiraling plastic. Riku cracked it open. On the first page, in loud emerald ink, it read:

Kadaj E. Nonaka's Journal. Keep Out, Fuckers.

Riku rolled his eyes and flipped the page. In the same ink and scratchy writing, there was a brief passage written.

There is never a good beginning to anything. It's never clear when something begins. A love, a hate, a passion. Although, it is clear when the peak of those has been reached. The climax. One can always look back at that. It is never clear when there is an end, either. Two people part, only to meet later. If only to make eye contact for a split second. The end can extend farther into another life, where it can be interpreted as a beginning. You see, everything is connected in some way. A second can change how the world runs, how the world runs can change in a second. Everything and everything is intertwined. Coincidences are just a small part of the bigger picture—the spider's web that connects it all.

`Kadaj wrote that?' Riku thought, emerald and cobalt eyes growing wide. `Weird… I never really thought he'd be that deep…'

He closed the journal and returned it to the shoebox before picking up the strip of photo booth pictures. The first was of Kadaj, roughly thirteen or fourteen, and Yazoo, who would've been sixteen or seventeen at the time, their arms slung around each other as they flashed peace signs at the camera. In the next, Yazoo was cradling Kadaj's face like a worried mother and the later with his eyes scrunched up, tongue stuck out in mock disgust. In the third one, Kadaj was spazzing out while Yazoo stuck his tongue out at the camera in a brat-like way. Within the final one, the two were locked in an innocent kiss, Yazoo looking smug while Kadaj was embarrassed and vaguely annoyed.

`So I guess they were dating…' Riku decided, placing the photos back where they had been and unfolding one of the notes. It was in Yazoo's calligraphy-esque handwriting, but done in thin pencil instead. There was fuzz on the side of the paper, making it appear as if it had been ripped out of a notebook

Cette classe dure pour toujours, my pet. I'm the top student in this class, and not to mention tomorrow is finals. I have nothing to study for, seeing as I'm confidant that I'll pass (as always). I cannot believe I'm going to be graduating in twenty-four hours! My senior year seemed to fly by… I just wish I'd had more time to spend with you, my pet. It'll be hard when I leave for culinary school in September; I know you hate it whenever we're apart. But it's only a two hour drive and I doubt anyone would suspect anything since you're a boy…

I think about you a lot, my sweet pet, whenever I can spare a minute. I cannot wait until I get out of this god awful classroom so we can study together tonight... I can possibly even invite you over to spend the night tomorrow. We've been busy with finals for so long that we've hardly been able to do anything. I miss the feel of your warm flesh against mine—

And that was MORE than Riku needed to know thank-you-very-much. With a thoroughly disturbed expression, he replaced the things in the shoebox and shoved it back above the clothing rack before going to the bathroom to shower thoroughly for the next twenty minutes.

He held her tiny hand, as pale and cold as porcelain, in his for the last time.

“This is weird… usually Tifa is always yelling at us to stay out of the freezer, but now you have to stay in here.” Denzel gave Marlene's hand a gentle squeeze, hazel eyes tender with emotion, “It's kinda funny… in a sick sort of way.”

He reached up to brush the hair from her eyes, “You know, Marlene… I never had any siblings of my own. I was an only child. I always saw you as my little sister, someone to protect.” He sighed shakily, feeling a numb disconnection of his body and soul, “Guess I didn't do so well, huh?”

“Denzel's been in there for a long time.” Tifa commented, pulling nervously on the edge of her burgundy sweatshirt, “Do you think he's cold?”

“Let him be.” Cloud said in a monotone voice. He was sitting at the bar, elbows up on the smooth surface; his blonde head rested over clasped hands. “He needs to take his time to say goodbye.”

Tifa bit her lip and stared down at the floor before reaching up to rub nervously at one of her arms, crossing the room to where she'd abandoned a half-packed box. Within it was the majority of their materia, several pouches of phoenix down, as well as a large case of potions that they'd kept under the bar in case of emergencies; she lifted the box with ease, carrying it behind the bar and bumping the swinging door to the kitchen open with her hip.

Once inside, Tifa began to go through the cabinets, pulling out a large box of ramen and neatly placing the contents in the box. After a quick scouring of the rest of the cupboards and the pantry, she had neatly packed a two dozen power bars, plenty of bottled water, as well as the majority of the vitamins and medicines she kept in the kitchen.

Tifa then folded the box closed and set her forehead upon it, feeling the tears well up in her eyes once more. Marlene was dead and she was packing to leave her partially-destroyed home—possibly forever. In a matter of hours, all she had ever strived to build had been destroyed. How long until she lost another one of her family? She felt like vomiting, but instead, she bit back her tears and carried the box back into the bar with an empty expression.

Denzel laid his brow against Marlene's, holding both her hands to his chest. Tears fell from his eyes, landing upon her pale cheeks and making tiny discolorations where they slid off, crying for her.

“I promise you…” He whispered tremulously, his shoulders beginning to shake with the effort of containing his tears, which fell rapidly, nevertheless, “I won't let anything like this happen ever again. Ever.”

Cloud felt too heavy to move.

Every time he breathed in, his muscles stretched taught and weightless, and every time he exhaled, they moaned and ached in protest.

Unblinking eyes stared at the same speck of ebony upon the counter. His mind still buzzed to a blank every time he attempted to think, barely registering the sounds of Tifa maneuvering around the house.

What had happened in the last few hours?

He vaguely recalled running through the streets, hacking relentlessly at dark shapes, following someone at a sprint, dark chocolate hair rippling behind them like a swaying waterfall, something had happened, and then he'd told someone to do something. Even then, his mind had hardly been connected to his mouth and he'd just been breathing instructions like the emotionally drained leader that he was.

Something soft was placed upon his shoulder, silky tresses brushing against his cheek.

“Cloud…” A gentle voice whispered into his ear.

Before the towhead even knew what she was doing, the brunette's face was buried into Cloud's chest, clutching the front of his shirt. He kissed the top of her head lovingly, allowing her to sob into his chest.

“Tifa…”

The immense building stretched upwards into the heavens. It was a bleak, prison-like structure made of a combination of metal plates and dense gray stucco siding. Small square windows adorned the higher levels of the facility, darkly reflecting the heavy clouds. Kadaj stared at the large double doors, his throat run dry. This was ludicrous. He was going to die.

“I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna-” he chanted softly to himself, climbing the concrete stairs. He placed a hand to the cool metal of the door, exhaled, then stepped inside. A gasp tore from his throat upon entering. Despite the harsh exterior of the building, the inside was lavishly decorated. The floors were tiled in a black and white marbled checker pattern, the receptionist's desk made of the same black marble. Silver-brushed sconces adorned the walls at even intervals, tall plants shooting up from grates in the floor. A large fountain lay in the next room on, seen below the upstairs walkway. Two large staircases led up to this bridge, one on either side of the front desk, the banisters a polished silver. Black runners ran down each staircase, the ends pooling into a large image of the Shin-ra logo. Apparently loyalty still remained.

The woman at the desk looked up expectantly, her blonde hair swept up into a tight bun. “Might I help you, Sir?” she inquired.

“Uh…” Kadaj faltered, thinking quickly. “This is my first time on this base. Could you perhaps provide me with a map of the place?”

“We have no maps, Sir - security reasons. There are some sporadically placed within the building if you get lost, however. If you wish, I may direct you?”

“Ah, well thank you then. Further direction isn't necessary. Thanks again.”

“You're welcome Sir.” The woman smiled. “Have a good day then.” She returned to her clipboard, dismissing him. Kadaj nervously bit the inside of his lip, trying to be as unnoticeable as possible. He presumed the best course of action would be to proceed up the stairs. As he turned to go, a large erected column caught his eye. He paced over to it, and called over his shoulder, “Would this be a map, Miss?”

“Yes, Sir, that would be one.” She replied, not looking up from her work. Kadaj examined the map carefully, absorbing in as much detail as possible. The area ahead was the cafeteria, the fountain being its center point. The walkway overlooked the eatery on one side, the lobby on the other. Both of the stairs lead up to the same destinations - to the right were the observatory, sleeping lodge, and gym, and to the left was a curving hallway edged by small offices. Here the map ended with little arrows indicating that more stairs lay at the end of the left hallway and between the gym and kitchenette, with two elevators in the eatery, one leading up, the other down.

The teen sighed heavily. There was a good chance that the file room would be in the basement, but there was really no way of knowing. He went with his better instinct and took the left stairway, turning into the wide hall. With as much ease as he could muster, he strode along, nodding occasionally to passersby. Most seemed too hurried to notice him, much to Kadaj's relief, and ran right on passed him. After a while, he approached the second flight of stairs. A small plaque was posted to the wall beside it, and the teen stopped to examine it. This was another map, showing both the level he was on and the one he was about to enter. The cluster of rooms above were marked very cryptically - rooms A1, A2, and A3 all appeared about the same, and across the way rooms B1, B2, and B3 looked slightly larger if not identical to the `A' set. There was also an elevator in this room, as well as a hallway and another flight of stairs.

Taking his chances, Kadaj maneuvered upstairs and through the twisted paths to the other hall. It stretched out before him rather mysteriously, forking at the end into two separate halls. The katana wielder walked along, noting the pictures on the wall that honestly gave him no further information. There were no plaques at the fork, so Kadaj ventured a guess and took the right one, hoping it would lead him to where he needed to go. Inside this room were more closed rooms, a small table in the center of them. It depicted a small building model of South Ridge as well as the original Shin-ra building that had been erected in Midgar, now since demolished by time and Meteorfall.

This room didn't extend elsewhere, so Kadaj backtracked and took the left passage. After climbing three more sets of stairs and backtracking yet again, the teen was finding himself rather turned around. There hadn't been a plaque on the last two floors at least, and the rooms were starting to look the same. With an edge of desperation, he stepped inside the nearest elevator. There was no map here either. He sighed and pushed the up button, moving ahead to the next floor. “God, I hope this works.”

 

 

Vincent drummed on the steering wheel absentmindedly, gazing out into the gathering clouds. The wind had picked up and was starting to even bother him. He had rolled up the windows and turned on the heat, the car choking noisily with the effort. He doubted that the thing had been run in many years. A few gulls cried out on the horizon and he entertained himself with watching their spiraling patterns. His ruby eyes flicked to the Shin-ra building, then back to the clouds, repeating the motion every so often. He was on edge.

Reclining back in his seat, he sighed. If Kadaj was caught, so was he. He would know far ahead of time, if not at the same time. He ran over their plausible escape plans in his head. With any luck they would not only get out alive but leave gracefully without detection. He glanced in detest at the cassette player and wished desperately for music. He needed something soothing to calm his nerves. He hated waiting outside while a friend went on alone into unknown waters. Vincent, for his stoic behavior, itched to join the fight, but his patience restrained his urge. With nothing else to do, he sang softly to himself in French, translating the lyrics in his head:

 

“Ils disent le phénomène,

Quand vous êtes choisi,

Le rouge, bon il filtre à travers.

 

Fixez ainsi, la menace est vrai,

Quand sa vue va rouge encore.

Revoyant le rouge, revoyant le rouge.

 

Ce changement, il ne contiendra pas,

Glisser loin, à l'espace libre votre esprit.

Une fois demandé, qui lui a fait l'exposition,

La vérité, lui donne dedans aux la plupart.

 

Fixez ainsi, la menace est vrai,

Quand sa vue va rouge encore…”

 

He frowned, examining the rearview mirror as the words died on his lips. Two figures walked towards him, their heads bent against the wind and cold. He rolled down the window and waited, the blonde approaching first. “Hello Sir.” Vincent said warmly, his knuckles going white on the wheel.

“Hello Mr. Valentino.” The blonde spat.

“Is something wrong, Sir?” the darker inquired, keeping his tones level.

“There are some things we have found interesting, Sir.” The second Turk voiced, clasping his hands before him. The security guard had called him `Rick'.

“Interesting, you say?”

“Yes, Sir. Interesting. I think it might come to your surprise that the only files for a Mr. `Sitoshi A. Nonaka' we have on record are marked MIA.” The brunette said darkly.

“Yes, that would be correct.” Vincent wracked his brain, recalling the conversation from earlier. “If you recall, good Sirs, that would be Sitoshi Sr. that you have on record. Our own Sitoshi Jr. is probably not in the database yet. You and I both know it takes Shin-ra a bit of time to enter in newcomers.”

“Very good, Mr. Valentino.” The blonde still sounded disdainful. “Very good indeed. But there is something else as well - we have no `Viktor Valentino' in our database.”

“Ah, well there must be some mis-”

“We do, however, have a Mr. Vincent Valentine, associated with the anti-Shin-ra establishment AVALANCHE.”

“An ex-Turk from 50 years prior, might it be said.” Rick added. “Remove yourself from the vehicle, Mr. Valentine. We are awaiting instruction.”

“I don't believe all this is necessary, gentlemen.” Vincent replied tersely.

“It is indeed Sir, you have breached security. Remove yourself from the vehicle.” The blonde insisted. His gloved hand moved to his side defensively. Vincent tensed, edging around for the gun he knew wasn't there with him. Biting his tongue in annoyance, he placed a hand to the door, fingers gripping around the window slot. “Now, Mr. Valentine.” The blonde called, extracting the handgun from his waistband.

“What clued you in?” Vincent asked, unmoving. He weighed his options rapidly, forcing himself not to chance glances at the building that concealed his companion.

“When you left, we both agreed the name was vaguely familiar.” Rick replied thinly, holding a hand over the barrel of his companion's gun. Simultaneously, he reached around to grab for his own. “It was the arm, mainly.”

Vincent nodded, “I thought as much. You can thank Hojo for that, like much everything else.” He smirked strangely - a look of contempt and bitter regret. With that, he kicked out the door, flying out of the metal monster and landing in a crouch behind the two Turks. They paused for only a second, and then there was the twin clicking sounds of guns being cocked, followed shortly by a barrage of gunshots.

 

 

By the fifth floor, he had gotten turned around three times. By the sixth, he had backtracked once. By the ninth he was tired. By the twelfth he was desperate. “This is fucking ridiculous!” Kadaj shrieked, his words unheard by any but himself. “It should NOT be this hard to find a fucking filing room. It's supposed to be huge.” He trudged forward irately, letting the suitcase bang rhythmically against his legs. He hadn't seen a directional plaque for the last eight floors. Apparently the woman at the front desk didn't expect him to push past those first four floors.

Kadaj rounded yet another corner and had the sinking sense of déjà vu. Everything within South Ridge was unified. The walls were all the same nondescript colour, the carpet was all one shade of dark Berber. The levels were set up identical to the last, and consequently, the next. Bathrooms were arranged in the same places, stairwells and elevators in the same locations. Even plants had been grown in matching areas. It all equated to a depressing, confusing, mind-numbing uniformity.

“I swear to God, I didn't leave this floor…” the teen muttered under his breath. “What the hell floor is this, anyway?!” he looked about for any indicator, and finding none, ascended the nearest stairs. At the top of the landing, the now black-haired teen whooped with excitement. Finally he had worked passed all of the office floors. He was now up on a higher, executive level, with marble tiled floors and clean looking walls. The whole floor, Kadaj found, had a more powerful, perfectioned feel to it. Slowly, he began to get a nervous sensation in his gut. How long had it been? Where was Vincent? Why did he say to escape to the south end of the building if need be? What if they were caught? What if-?

“No time for `what ifs'.” Kadaj murmured to himself. “Not gonna do you any good worrying.” Floor fourteen was slightly more promising than its predecessors. It had numerous unmarked doors that Kadaj was half-afraid to enter and even less people than on the lower levels. Still, he was on edge and forced himself to appear formal and disciplined. His arm throbbed at odd intervals, causing him to suppress gasps. This one might require a doctor. He grimaced at the thought. He didn't like them any more than Riku did.

He saw a fork in the road ahead of him. Making up his mind as he went, he veered to the right and collided with something hard. He stumbled backwards and quickly regained stability, his eyes still spotting from the impact. There was a low rumbling sound, and as his vision cleared, he found himself staring up at a pair of dark shades. He coughed importantly, readying an apology.

“Awe!” a voice trilled. Kadaj looked sharply to the right. A short blonde with an A-line smiled at him secretly, a hand placed on her hip. He could tell by her uniform that she was a Turk, and by the look in her eyes, he could assume that she was up to no good. No Turk ever was. Even with her diminished stature - only emphasized by the enormous man beside her - she stood a head taller than Kadaj. “Look, Rude.” She cooed. “It's a newbie.”

That's right. It may have been a SOLDIER uniform he wore, but Kadaj was posing as a Turk.

“He's not so new, Elena.” The bald man replied calmly. “See the bars?”

“Hmn, suppose so.” She admitted reluctantly. “New here?” she redirected the question to the teen before her.

“You could say that.” Kadaj replied. “I'm visiting, really. Out from Junon.” He recalled.

“Oh really? What's new there?”

“Not much, honestly. It's been rather boring. No action.” Kadaj laughed nervously, covering it with light humor. He could easily be wrong.

“Never any fun.” Elena agreed. “Not much here either. We're relocating for a bit too - Rude and I, I mean.” She added, hitching her thumb towards her companion. “A good majority of us Turks are heading up North. Trouble's brewing.” Her eyes sparked with electricity. “Should be a few good fights to fight.”

“We're helping out the people.” Rude specified, placing a large hand on the blonde's shoulder. She pouted. “Shin-ra is split, as I'm sure you know, on governmental issues. Most of us wish to atone for our Sins, however… well, you know how it goes around here.”

“There are always loyalists.” Kadaj nodded in disgust.

“What about you?” Elena quipped.

“Me?”

“Yeah… you going north too?”

“Perhaps…” Kadaj mused, thoughts flashing through his mind. “What's going on up north? I haven't heard much news during my travel here.”

“Makes sense.” Rude nodded sagely. “Even those with Shin-ra are worried about intercepted messages.”

“Right.” Elena said. “Of course, there are always rumors. Always are rumors. All we know for fact is that stuff is going down in Edge - literally. Collapsing buildings, deaths, attacks, strange creatures. It's a revolt of some kind and it's getting attention. People are afraid of it, and others go off to search it out, for whatever reason. We're all sort of in a governmental downfall right now.” she bit her lip nervously. “Some of the people want us Turks - everyone associated with Shin-ra - dead. That way `the past can't possibly repeat itself'.”

Kadaj shivered, a chill seeping into his veins. “Dead?” he echoed.

“Right, but we're covered.” The blonde said, sounding a bit forced. “Reeve is taking care of things. You know Shin-ra's remains were pretty much left to him? He had the most control and information over things, especially after all that business with DEEPGROUND. We Turks up north have actually been assisting the WRO, but I suppose they don't have things like that over in Junon.”

“No, not that I've been informed of.” Kadaj replied distantly, absorbing the information hungrily. Something was definitely off. “So you're headed to assist the people, you said?”

“Right.” Rude said. He paused uncomfortably for a moment, glancing over to gauge Elena's reaction. He shifted in place awkwardly. “Well, the people are trying to find shelter. They're all afraid for their lives. Most all of them, anyway. There is rumor… well, let rumors stay rumors. There is a rebel organization of sorts that is causing this, and part of our job is to uncover them.”

“With any luck, it's just one of the many violent gangs that have arisen since DEEPGROUND arrived.” The blonde said fervently. Rude punched her elbow softly.

“Luck? What exactly are we dealing with here?! What are the rumors?” Kadaj asked, growing alarmed.

“Do you recall when Geostigma spread over Gaia?” Elena asked.

“Of course.”

“Then perhaps you remember that rebel band of remnants?”

“Yes.” Kadaj's grip on his briefcase threatened to break the handle in two.

“There is talk that people like them… well, people still loyal to Sephiroth and the old Shin-ra, are trying to finish what was started.” she finished, pursing her lips.

“Sephiroth.” The katana-wielder repeated, words void of emotion.

“Well… yes.” Elena replied awkwardly, Rude nodding softly beside her. To Kadaj, it felt as if the room had been sucked dry of any and all moisture, leaving a bone-dry, raspy air. Suddenly, he was claustrophobic, and pressure clogged his ears. Run, run, run…His hands clenched instinctually, his jaws bound shut. An idea hit him.

“That's interesting.” He choked out at long last. “I think I'd like to research that area's gang activity over the last few years. Also, if this base has a list of assumed Sephiroth supporters? It wouldn't hurt to check, would it?” he suggested. The two Turks looked to each other unsurely.

“We've gone over the statistics for the most part, but we assumed the Sephiroth bit as rumor, and only rumor.” Rude said. “However… it might not hurt to-” His words were drowned out by a long, shrill wail. Kadaj gasped and covered his sensitive ears, the Turks tensing and looking about wildly, reaching for their weapons. As the sound elevated to a keening scream, red strobe lights whirred to life.

“THIS IS NOT A DRILL. ASSUME YOUR POSITIONS EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATE.” An automated voice sounded over the PA system. Kadaj froze, rooted to the spot. There was a loud rumble of opening and banging doors and the frenzied shouting from all around. “THERE HAS BEEN A SECURITY BREACH. ASSUME POSITIONS NOW.”

“You coming, eh…?” Elena called excitedly. Kadaj stuttered.

“Sitoshi, it's Sitoshi.”

“Right, well?” she bounced eagerly on the balls of her feet.

“I'm not accustomed to the procedures here…” the teen gnawed his lip, sweat plastering his hair to his neck. This was the last place he wanted to be. Rude was already down the hallway.

“Elena?!” he called semi-impatiently.

“One sec, I'll meet up with you!” the blonde replied hastily. The dark skinned man disappeared with surprising speed. “Look, I think you're on to something about the records.” She rushed, eyes darting everywhere but at Kadaj. “The file room is at the end of the hall on the floor above us. Lock the door when you get in, just in case. I take it they didn't let you come in armed?” The teen shook his head `no'. “Right, well. Luck!” she cried out, darting away.

Upon her departure, Kadaj allowed himself to exhale heavily. The worst might just be over. But Vincent… no, Vincent was strong enough to handle himself. He would be fine. With a destination in mind, the teen bounded away. His feet skidded loudly against the marble floors, and he flung himself forward towards the stairwell, ramming his ribs roughly into the handrail. He cried out and jumped over the banister, taking the stairs two at a time.

The landing was unusually narrow, and Kadaj had to run with an arm out to steady himself. His bandaged arm hindered his equilibrium, and he cursed profusely as he tripped up taking a corner. The potted plant tipped over and split across the walkway. Ceramic shards dug into the soles of his boots, but like all else, he ignored it and pushed on.

People rushed passed him, taking no notice of his unusual course. Their jostling bodies didn't help his predicament either. By the end of the main hall, the majority of the crowd had dispersed, rounded up by a loud, barking voice. He panted heavily as he examined the large door before him. It was metal and unforgiving, the center meshed together in jagged spikes. Kadaj vaguely thought it similar to how keys fit inside keyholes. He eyed the box sticking out from the wall beside it. There was a blank screen, below which was a small rectangular pad and a keypad with a card swipe. The screen flashed, “Please swipe ID” in white text, a cursor waiting at the end of the string dutifully.

“Shit, oh shit.” Kadaj swore loudly. His fake ID couldn't possibly pass this test. He looked at the pad. Fingerprint scan. Great. He retreated a few paces, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He didn't have much time until they realized there was a trespasser inside the building. Vincent could only hold off for so long… There was no way to break through the door; even with Materia it would be difficult. The teen turned back towards the hall of doors. They all stood ajar, the walkway littered with trash and papers. Something caught the light and he bent over to retrieve the object. His hand pulled away as if bitten as he realized it was an employee ID. He threw down his briefcase and pawed through the contents, tugging out the clear roll of packing tape. He tore off a piece savagely and laid it over the face of the card, smoothing out the front. Pulling it off the floor, he paced over to the computer and removed the card gingerly. He swiped it and waited apprehensively.

There was a low whirring, and then the computer read, “Thank You, Ms. Suzumura”, and then, “Please enter your company ID on the keypad”. Kadaj looked the card over, flipping it over by the corner. There at the bottom, atop the barcode, was a number. He punched it in and crossed his fingers. After a second, the computer prompted the next stage, “Please present your fingerprints for identification”. The katana-user threw the card into his briefcase and pressed the tape to the pad using the back of his hand, assuring his prints wouldn't show through. The screen went black and Kadaj inhaled sharply.

“Shit… what just happened?! What just-?!” And with a giant suck of air, the metal doors slid open, admitting him entrance.

 

 

His golden arm rose, quickly deflecting the two oncoming bullets. He crouched and rolled to the side to keep from getting hit by the seceding barrage. Vincent sprung, flipping back over the heads of the two Turks. The blonde turned faster, firing at will. A swish of air brushed Vincent's left shoulder. He growled and bounded backwards toward the blue sedan. His booted foot scraped along the side door, erupting in an ear-splitting scree. The two men opposite him winced; their guns temporarily slack in their hands.

Vincent seized the opportunity, jumping onto the car's roof. Rick fired this time, one hand fumbling in his jacket pocket. The bullet tore through the air where Vincent stood only seconds before. The dark-haired man ducked, sliding down the trunk.

“He's going to arm himself!” the blonde yelled, shooting at Vincent's feet. The later scratched at the top of the trunk, splitting back the metal with his clawed hand. He nimbly reached in and sprung the lock, diving for the secret compartment. The car jarred violently, leaning to the side.

“Nice shot, Blitz!” the brunette called. Vincent stilled, realizing something was off. One hand held the rim of the raised door, the other lay over the smooth metal of his gun. He glanced over to the two men darkly. They stood defensively but still, the gunfire ceased. Rick held something in his hand. Smirking as he saw Vincent's eyes connect with it, the Turk motioned, “You see this, don't you? This is a button. You don't want me to press this button.”

“What are you trying to do?” Vincent posed.

“I'd much like to know that myself.” Emerald eyes narrowed at him. “Who was the young man with you?”

“Sitoshi Nonaka Jr.” Vincent replied. A bullet whizzed by and landed by his foot.

“Who was the young man with you?”

“The son of Sitoshi A. Nonaka.” Vincent rephrased.

“Very good, Mr. Valentine. Now,” Rick continued, gun still cocked. “…how did you come to meet the young man?”

“I'm like an uncle to him, if you-” The bullet landed closer this time.

“Bullshit. How do you know the kid?”

“I am like an uncle to him - the boy has little to no family.” Vincent growled. There was a pause.

“Continue, Valentine. Being like something is not the same as being something. How did you meet him?” Rick pressed, his voice level.

“He's in the family.”

“Family?”

“The only family I've left.” The other retorted.

“You were kept dormant for 50 years. What family could be left?” Blitz spoke up. His thin eyebrow was cocked, making his expression look more exaggerated. “Unless you mean… AVALANCHE.”

“That depends. Who are you to ask?” Vincent countered.

“We are Turks.” Was all Rick said. He tossed the button lightly.

“I can answer no further until I know-”

“We are loyal to our employer, Sir.” Blitz spat. “As we should be.”

“Then I'm afraid-”

“The boy is involved and you're sending him to his death.” Rick interrupted. “You had him tamper with the car, I could tell. There was dried blood in the back of the trunk and he was missing half a fingernail.” He gauged Vincent's response. Getting none, he growled irately. “Clearly his safety is of no concern to you. Therefore,” he held the button aloft, a smile twisting onto his lips. “it will be of no consequence if I use this.”

“What…?” Vincent trailed off.

“It's a quick switch that trips the security lines in all of South Ridge. Hit this and the sirens go off, we go in lock down, and all Turks in the area will be summoned up. The call is received at the front desk and they can pinpoint to a centimeter the coordinates of the call. However…” he brought the device close to his pocket. “…all of this can be simply avoided were you to just answer our questions.”

“Your loyalties are to Shin-ra.” Vincent said abruptly. “Now pray tell are they to Reeve or to Sephiroth?”

“You insolent-!” Blitz swore.

“You're testing our patience, Valentine.” Rick threatened, his voice dangerously low. “Now, either you comply and save your partner's life, or he dies and you… well, there would be no promising future for you either.” She grinned darkly. “So which is it?”

“I will never be Shin-ra's lapdog.” Vincent hissed. He rapidly drew, cocked, and fired the large gun concealed in the trunk, igniting the area with flames. There was a click, and then the scream of sirens.

 

 

The place was immense and therefore daunting. Kadaj stood in silent shock in the center of the filing room, encircled by tall rows of drawers and fuzzily lit screens. The sound of an explosion brought him spiraling back to the situation and he started, casting about for a computer. He raced passed two broken monitors to a large green screen with similar white text. “Please enter your quarry”, it read.

Kadaj set the briefcase beside him and clicked it back open. The papers were jumbled, crinkling under his hurried fingers. A piece of binder paper stuck out at an odd angle from its formal companions. Spotting it, Kadaj plucked it and a ballpoint pen from the contents with a small victorious cry, setting them before him. He bent and examined the scratchy handwriting. “R.I.K.U.” he murmured softly, typing the initials into the database. The screen flickered, then loaded a new page. It was laid out to look like a manila folder with small boxes of information running along the left side like tabs. In the top right corner was a Polaroid picture clipped to the folder.

Kadaj exhaled heavily, as if the wind was knocked from him. The picture was of an unconscious Riku, aged four. Catlike eyes stared at the screen, his throat constricting. He coughed out a cry and tore his gaze away to scan the text. At the top were the words, “Project R.I.K.U.” and underneath, “Jenova #1445”. In italics was a single direction to “Section 4A, Row 36, Shelf 3, Serial Number J1445”. Hurriedly, he scribbled down the description and printed the page. The printer whirred slowly into life, lazily yielding the information.

Kadaj bounced impatiently in his seat, and then froze. A large explosion outside shook the high windows, a few papers fluttering, startled, into the air like birds. Shaking slightly, Kadaj clicked on the page's links blindly, pressing the `print screen' option offered on each. He looked down to the paper and read the next prompt. “Sephiroth”. This page was the longest he had seen yet, but, like Riku's had few directions. “Section 1A, Row 29, Shelf 2, Serial Number J385”. He frowned as something clicked in his mind. He looked over his prompt list and spotted a “#385”, just as he recalled. Printing out the page, he punched in the series of numbers. The screen reloaded and brought up a page similar to the “R.I.K.U.” one, offering the same reference section as on Sephiroth's page.

Clipped in the corner was the image of a teen, smiling bemusedly at the camera. His hair was a soft silver; hanging just passed his shoulders in long sheets. A gray shirt hung off his frame loosely, still managing to show off his developed chest. One arm was propped up on some unseen object, the other resting on a knee, clutching a small object. Kadaj gaped. This was Sephiroth, aged 15. Beside the brief caption was a cross, which highlighted as the cursor scrolled over it.

Kadaj clicked, numbly staring as the page went green. That was Sephiroth. That was the man he hated more than anything the world possessed. That was the man who killed him, who made his life Hell. That was the man… the page loaded to show many more Polaroid shots. They progressed from a swaddled baby, to a curious infant, to a toddler. Toddler Sephiroth sat squarely in the middle of a room, clutching a stuffed black chocobo. He looked at the camera unhappily, as if irritated that someone was encroaching on his playtime. At nine years of age, he was smirking triumphantly at the camera. He obviously was the one holding the camera; it was angled too high up and at a slightly awkward position. He looked just like Kadaj, hair framing his face, with long bangs parted more heavily to one side than the other. Dressed in loose jeans and a pale blue unbuttoned dress shirt, he looked similar to Yazoo at thirteen. His chest was toned and he had a long katana propped up against the stone wall he leaned on.

There was no denying the resemblance between Sephiroth and the three remnants now. At some point or another, their images mirrored each other. Kadaj fingered the screen, wondering blankly if this was the reason Sephiroth had chosen them. We fought him. We tried to fight, even though it was impossible. More than that, we all looked like him. He found a sort of home in us. A similarity… an escape. He blanched and made a small retching sound in the back of his throat. Clicking away from the gallery, he printed the remaining pages, following the links to ensure he got everything.

Snatching up the binder paper in one hand, he dashed out into the main hall, looking up and down. The rows of files were divided into Sections A-Z, each with six subsections to them. From there, each subsection contained 50 rows of shelves, stacked nine tall, and infinitely long. He paced over to Section A, hitting the fours first. It didn't take him too long to locate Bin Number J1425-1450. He pried it open with a grunt; it groaned and grated at the edges, flecks of rust falling to the floor. Kadaj raised himself on his toes and flipped through the tabs until he located number 1445. It was wedged into the back and was packed haphazardly, papers sticking slightly out the top. Kadaj cursed under his breath as he wiggled the folder out, bumping his wrist on the metal above it. Once freed, he tucked it under his arm and shoved the archaic drawer closed, progressing to Subsection One.

The corresponding bin took even less time to find than Riku's, having been in the triple digits rather than the quadruples. With a rush of adrenaline, Kadaj tore open the first bin dedicated to 385 alone. It came to with ease, as if opened many a time and shone darkly. A single scrap of paper lay inside. Shocked, Kadaj picked it up from the bottom of the drawer, quickly reading the single line, “Miss me?” He yelped in shock and dropped it as if it were on fire, panting several feet away. His eyes darted about defensively, wishing desperately for his Shouba. When there was nothing in the heavy silence asides from his own labored breathing, Kadaj moved forward cautiously, shutting the bin. After a moment's hesitation, he took back the note and stuck it into Riku's folder.

Below the bin was another, this one labeled “385-2”. Preparing himself for something much worse, Kadaj held his breath. But to his surprise, this one held not only a few sparse folders, but small objects as well. There were several small trinkets, many of which were brightly coloured with tiny chocobos, moogles, and cactuars all over them. There was a beat-up leather wallet, an envelope, and, buried beneath a case of martial art belts, a small yellow beak. Curiously moving the case aside, Kadaj extracted a small black chocobo. Its head lolled to one side, the stuffing shoved into the opposite direction. Its plush fur was worn in places and slightly coarse. Young Sephiroth had well loved the little bird. Someone had lovingly embroidered the word `Vogel' in red stitching along the chocobos neck. Kadaj traced the cursive lettering, trying to picture its owner - younger, innocent, happy. He shuddered, something unfamiliar slipping over him. Wincing at the feeling, he replaced the stuffed toy.

He picked up the envelope and peered inside. Not finding anything definite, he slipped his hand inside and extracted the contents. A few scribbled drawings were at the forefront along with several sheets of shaky handwriting. Later on, the writing became more fluid, in both neat characters and slanting roman characters that were every so often interrupted by a symbol resembling a wonky capital “B”. Drawings became more intricate. Pencil pieces of wings and sloped eyes, dark chocobos and a few of one woman stared back at Kadaj. A few poems appeared later still, some doodled on at the corners, others with notations written in a foreign language.

Lastly were a small handful of photographs. They were mainly of a teenage Sephiroth, clearly taken by himself. Others showed Lucrecia when she wasn't paying attention, a group of people chatting and laughing amongst themselves, and two men, one with black hair, the other with red, with their arms slung around the other's shoulders, looking rather unhappy about their situation.

There were newer photos below these, taken of tents and battle strategy maps. There were men in dark uniforms that drifted at the corners of the shots of varying stature. In the next shot, an energetic young man smiled cheesily into the camera, his arm extended out towards Kadaj. It gave the impression that the dark-haired SOLDIER had swung the lens towards himself when Sephiroth was least expecting it. The next frame had Kadaj yelping in surprise again. It was the same dark-haired man again, this time with his arm slung around a blushing blonde. The blonde's face was partially covered in his uniform's green woolen scarf, but his characteristic blue eyes made it clear as to his identity. Cloud? Kadaj wondered, agape. No way… He flipped the photo over. In Sephiroth's hand was written “Cloud Strife and Zack Fair. Those idiots.” They were friends. Kadaj thought bluntly. They were friends.

There was a hushed rustling behind him, and Kadaj tensed. I left the door unlocked. Reno had advised… but we'rethe intruders. Unless… his gaze flashed to the drawer he knew to be empty. Please, oh please don't let him be back. He replaced the contents of the envelope quickly, snatching up the slim folders and stuffing it all under his arm. He pushed the drawer shut again and ran back to the computer, trying to be as silent as possible. Once there, he started stuffing the briefcase full, snatching papers off the printer and filing them away with the rest. He looked to the screen and groaned.

“The printer is out of paper. Please reload and continue to print from the print queue.” It smiled in its bold white font. Kadaj bit out a curse and sought about frantically for paper, snatching the previously disturbed papers from the floor. Turning them rhythmically, he punched the print button and waited for the remainder of his information to process. After what felt like a ridiculously long time, he snapped the briefcase shut and logged off the computer. An odd chill settled over the teen, and he looked about nervously. Hello? He asked mentally. I don't want to ask,I don't want a response.

He slunk forwards towards the door cattishly. When the door was in sight, he sprinted the final stretch and bounded down the flight of stairs. Pencils and fallen papers crunched beneath his boots; Kadaj could see upturned furniture in the wide open doorways. The teen took a right through small model buildings and towards a series of offices. Turning the corner, he ran to an abrupt end.
“Shit!” Kadaj's hands slammed against the wall, knocking the air out of him. He stepped away and backtracked; the building becoming more of a labyrinth by the second.

He skidded around a corner, jutting out an arm to balance himself, and flew down the next set of stairs. The briefcase banged against his calves uncomfortably, occasionally slamming against the walls. He took another sharp turn and stumbled on the second landing. Kadaj slipped and rolled down the steps, a sharp pain pressing alternately on his chest and sides. At the bottom, he collapsed in a heap, groaning.

His whole body ached, undeniably bruised all over. He pulled himself up and sprinted to the end of the hallway, forcing himself to ease into a run. The lactic acid was building up in his legs. He swore under his breath. “I've got to get to the bottom, I've got to get…” he tore down the left wing and was jarred back, his hand catching on the corner. He pulled back and examined the plaque there, a white melamine with red text. Kadaj rolled his eyes, a sense of relief washing over him.

“Finally, they've got a fucking map. Sure as hell would have been a lot more helpful going the other way.” But his fingertips danced over the floor plan and tapped twice on the next set of stairs. This time, he wouldn't have to double back. Holding the image in his mind, he set off again, dashing now. Vincent had to have been found already. Just how long could the man wait? How long would he wait? Kadaj shook himself. He trusted Vincent. He knew better. He skipped every other step and jumped onto the landing, crouching down from the impact. There was a rustling down the main hallway - which appeared to be deserted - and then an audible whisper.

“What was that?”

“Dunno. Be careful.”

Kadaj inhaled sharply, covering his mouth, afraid the sudden sound would give him away. His keen eyes scanned the area, slowly picking out the muzzles of several guns. Panic washed over him, and he shakily stepped back, one foot at a time, until he reached the foot of the first stair. He had made it to the fifth step when the inevitable happened. The briefcase kissed the edge of the next step with a loud, metallic `click!' and suddenly, the next room was alive with movement. Kadaj turned and ran, faster than before when he thought he was being watched, faster than he could recall in a long time. These men had guns, and they were willing to kill.

He grasped for the image of the map again, the details now fuzzy. Taking his chances, he veered right, taking a small series of twisted staircases. There were the whizzing sounds of bullets and the frantic yells of the men behind him. A whoosh of air startled him, and he barely had enough time to duck as the window above him shattered. Glass rained down on his head, and his feet crunched over it, wedging into his soles. Kadaj grimaced, but kept going - shards of glass had cut through to the bottoms of his feet, warm blood soaking his socks.

At last, he had reached the twin elevator doors. He punched the down button rapidly, shifting his weight from foot to foot impatiently. The sound of the men's voices were getting louder, closer. Kadaj turned to look over his shoulder, watching alertly for the tops of heads to appear. He didn't want to fight here. He was too sore and too outnumbered. It was true that he could have killed ten to fifteen people single handedly at one time, but he had had Shouba, and those people didn't have guns. Things had changed. Now he was the hunted.

The first head crested right as the great golden doors opened, and Kadaj leapt inside, closing the doors and jabbing the down arrow. A thick `clunk!' sounded before him, the bullet striking the doors like a stick to a tin can. His head rung and the elevator seemed to move far too slow for his liking. The muffled shouts of the men faded away as he descended, but he knew it was only a matter of time before they alerted any others. There was still music playing inside, seeming drastically out of place given the current situation. The plucky melodies seemed to taunt Kadaj more than sooth him. He watched the floor numbers above the door light up one by one.

He fell forwards suddenly, and the music skipped. He frowned and made to move when the lights flickered out. The elevator stopped. Kadaj froze. “What now?” he whispered. “I'm a sitting duck, there has to be-” He squinted in the dark, feeling about for an escape. “The shaft.” He breathed, recalling something he'd seen before on TV. Groping about, his fingers brushed the hand rail. Grasping it, he gingerly place one foot upon it, and then the other. Now in the corner, he shoved his hand upwards and the small door fell away. He hopped down to retrieve his briefcase, and then pulled himself out onto the roof of the elevator.

The elevator shaft was surprisingly brighter than he had expected; when he craned his neck upwards he could see sky through a dark piece of glass. He shifted his gaze to the walls around him, keeping a tight hold of the cables. There, slightly to the side and parallel to the elevator, was a ladder attached to the wall. Ignoring the hammering in his chest, Kadaj jumped and caught hold, allowing the handle of his briefcase roll down his arm. It weighed him down awkwardly, making the going difficult. The metal rungs were getting harder to grasp as his palms began to sweat, his body realizing the position he was in. Memories flashed before his eyes. Grasping onto a ledge, a box in one hand. Slipping, and free falling. Colliding into a metal structure. This time, however, Sephiroth wasn't here to take over for him if he fell. Kadaj squeezed his eyes shut and blocked the images from his mind.

Just below him was the opening to the next floor, the pair of doors standing partially ajar. He inched down until he was within safe distance of reaching, throwing the briefcase through first. Catlike eyes watched as the leather case spiraled over the linoleum, and then darted down into the black depths below. Acting before he could think any further, Kadaj made his second jump, landing roughly on his stomach. He gagged, wheezing from the impact, and scrambled to pull himself up. He regained his property and stood a moment trembling, his legs feeling like jelly.

“This floor is secure!” a shout echoed from the previous floor. Kadaj tensed, trying to gauge its direction.

“Clear! Proceed to next floor, Rodger.” A fuzzier voice confirmed. So they had communicators. Due to that, they had been able to shut down power to the facility, downing the elevator. The teen wandered forward cautiously, now standing in the center of the short hall. A staircase leading up was to his left, a descending one flanking his right. There was a skittering of feet, and a man with a thick rifle paused on the landing, regarding Kadaj critically. The katana-wielder stepped back slowly, afraid to make any sudden movements. The gun's muzzle rose slowly to point to his chest, the butt resting on its owners shoulder as he sighted the weapon.

“Look, I don't want-” Kadaj began defensively. There was a loud rustling, and men rose from the lower level to trap him. Kadaj jerked back and a bullet whistled. There was an exclamation of pain as a man on the other side was struck down, and then mass movement. Kadaj didn't even see who was hit - he had dashed forward and jumped blindly through the window at the end of the hall. Glass rained down as he fell, tangling in his hair and clothing. His arms flailed to the sides, briefcase still locked in a death-like grasp. He tried to concentrate on his destination, but the world rushed by to fast, a mere oil canvas background.

He crashed into something hard that groaned under his sudden weight. His vision went black, and the popping of gunfire faded into a static buzz. A sudden sound brought him back to earth, and he rolled off the roof of the blue sedan onto the hood. Gravity and nausea kicked in, and he puked over the side of the vehicle. His body gave out temporarily, and he fell to the grass.

“Get up!” someone yelled. Kadaj glanced up to see a lone red figure in a mass of dark suits, weaving in and out of the congregation. He turned and fired off a round, reaching simultaneously for another clip and loading the cartridge smoothly as the other ran out.

“Vincent.” Kadaj breathed gratefully, picking himself up. There was a crunching of dry earth and a Turk stood before him, aiming a long katana at his midsection. He was a wiry man with thick, black hair that was braided into cornrows on one side of his head and pushed forward into a reverse mullet on the other. He stared coldly at Kadaj through wire rimmed glasses.

“Name's Raven.” Was all he said, lunging forward. “And yours?”

“What should it matter?” Kadaj asked, straightening up and wiping his mouth off with the back of his sleeve.

“I generally like to know the names of the people I kill.” The other replied, an air of arrogance lacing his words.

“Too bad then.” The teen smirked. “I'm not gonna be one of them.” His foot connected with something, and he bent to retrieve the handgun, narrowly avoiding being nicked by the edge of Raven's blade. The Turks gray eyes drew to the weapon and leapt backwards as if burnt, holding his own weapon defensively. “You're pretty smart, huh?” Kadaj challenged, cocking the gun. “You know when to back down.”

“I'm not retreating.” The other hissed, swinging his blade to deflect the first bullet. “Self-preservation, not defeat.” Kadaj shot faster, and the katana swung in cadence with the blasts. Up, side, down, right, left, up, diagonal. The sting of metal on air left wide arching patterns, aiding Kadaj's fire. He took the last three bullets and shot close to Raven's body, and then just further from it. Falling for the trap, Raven deflected, leaving his shoulder open just enough to hit. Kadaj knew he made his mark at the crunch of bone and agonized scream that followed.

He flipped the gun around to hold the hot muzzle. “Sorry.” He muttered, rapping the side of Raven's skull as he passed, knocking him out. Ducking and swerving, Kadaj made his way over to Vincent. The man was still engaged with Rick and Blitz; every now and then he would turn to attack a different Turk. A lithe redhead with a shruiken seemed to be debilitating him the most, it seemed. She would dash forward and then retreat, each time driving him away from his destination. Kadaj watched her leap forward, curls bouncing, and slash downward at Vincent's front. Her weapon shredded his sleeve, and a trail of blood trickled from the sight.

A sharp blow to the side diverting Kadaj's attention. He turned to stare at another redhead, this one male and grinning cockily. The electric rod in his hand gave him the eerily similar appearance of Reno. The sole difference being that this Turk's eyes were a greenish hazel, rather than a light blue. “Come on, man.” He teased. “You gonna fight or what?”

Kadaj crouched into a fighting stance, still clutching the barrel of the handgun. His opponent eyed it skeptically, and then shrugged, charging forward with a small cry. Recalling Raven from earlier, Kadaj resorted to his strategy, relying more on defense than anything. When the opportunity came, he struck out at the Turk's sides and knees, keeping his own body as far away as possible. A swift blow knocked him breathless; the area between his shoulder blades stinging mightily.

Kadaj backed away and sized up the other man thoughtfully. “You could have killed me.” He hedged.

“Ya, probably.” The other shrugged.

“You aren't here to kill us like the others are, are you?”

“Nah.” The redhead smiled. “I'm just here for the fight.” He positioned himself into a more stable stance.

“Hey… you know Reno?” Kadaj asked, curiosity brimming.

“Course I know Reno.” The other replied, jumping forward. He swung out and clipped Kadaj's calf, smiling good-naturedly. “He trained me.”

“Figures.” The other replied darkly. The redhead smiled a Cheshire grin.

“After all, he is my brother.”

“What?!” Kadaj paused mid-strike.

“Oops, left your stomach open.” The other chided, lightly smacking Kadaj's abdomen. The teen recoiled and composed himself.

“I didn't know he had a brother.”

“Obviously so.” The Turk laughed. “My name's Ten. You're one of the ex-remnants, aren't you?” he asked, interesting alighting his eyes.

“Ya.” The teen admitted. “Kadaj.”

“Thought as much.” Ten nodded. “You're pretty good. Too bad you've got a thing against Shin-ra - you'd make one hell of a Turk.” He praised.

“Ya think?” Kadaj asked, striking again.

“Probably.”

BOOM

The pair froze and looked towards the building. Scrap metal flew everywhere, the car now no more than a towering inferno. It sparked and choked out black smoke, ashes stinging the cold air. A wave of red rushed towards them. Kadaj barely had enough time to usher, “See ya.” to Ten, and catch his smile, before Vincent hit him. A strong arm wrapped around his waist and the empty handgun clattered to the ground. South Ridge starting falling backwards, the earth narrowing out.

“Vincent!” Kadaj shrieked, suddenly aware of their surroundings.

“Hang on tight.” The other replied, humor coating his dark tone. Kadaj inhaled sharply as the ground fell from view. Below them were crashing waves, then gray skies, and then the edge of a cliff. His insides knotted up, adrenaline and fear coursing through his system. Suddenly aware of how tired he felt, Kadaj passed out cold in Vincent's arms.