Note to self: never fucking trust any damn gold materia that's wedged in a place it's got no fucking right to be.

Day one

Note to self: never fucking trust any damn gold materia that's wedged in a place it's got no fucking right to be. That was Cid's first thought when he woke up on the dusty ground next to what was, to judge by the smell, someone's week old trashbags. Fuck, what the hell had happened? He looked around as he sat up, the world spinning around him for a moment. Once everything stopped moving, the first thing he noticed, besides the smelly trash bags and poorly-painted house he was laying next to, was that it was twilight. Evening gloom was descending on the area. Damn. He'd been out for a few hours then. His joints protested as he stood up, dirt and grit sticking to him. Damnit, he hated getting old. Scratching the back of his head, he cursed the materia again. If the stupid thing was some variant on teleport, it could have sent him to a hot spring or somewhere, instead of out with the trash. Fucking hilarious that that was where the shitty thing would put him. At least he was still in Rocket Town. This looked like Dan's house. Might as well get on home, he figured. He'd pick up a pair of pliers, then go pry the damn thing loose. Absorbed in vengeful thoughts about getting the stupid thing out from under the Sheara's control board, it took him a moment to notice the dramatic difference in Rocket Town's skyline. When he did see it, he stopped dead. He blinked and pinched himself. No luck. It was still there. Standing tall, gleaming in the golden light of the sunset. The rocket.

Walking out from behind the fence, he dazedly approached the item that had been the symbol of his dreams. Before he could even get close enough to touch its smooth, cool sides, he was stopped by a young man in a Shinra trooper uniform.

"Sorry, sir, but this area is off limits to civilians. If you want a picture of the rocket, that's fine, but you must be behind that line." He pointed to a red line chalked onto the ground. Cid hadn't even noticed it.

It was a testament to how out of it he was that he complied to the young man's instructions without protest. He let himself gaze a while longer before a familiar voice caught his attention. Looking around, he found its source and was once again blindsided by what he saw. There, walking with a group of young men, was unmistakably his twenty-something self. The men were laughing, and a few of them were swaying, beer bottles in their hands. He stood there, a lost and grizzled old man, as his youth walked past talking about dreams, the future, and how he would, in a few days, be the first man in space.

He stood there stunned. He took in every thing around him - the houses, the people, the smells, Shinra. They were all here, all the ghosts of his past.

"Fuck that materia..." He shook himself. "Damn it, Cid, this ain't you. Stop gaping like some dorky faced numbskull idiot," he berated. So either you're in the past or having the most Gaia-damned vivid dream you've ever had. Get over it and fucking do something.

Best find out what day it was. Decision made, he headed for the local inn and tavern. He kept a wary eye out on his surroundings. If the launch was in a few days, than there were good odds AVALANCHE was crawling around somewhere. Entering the brightly lit establishment, he made his way over to the counter and hailed the inn keeper/barman over.

"Get me a cup of the fucking darkest, most bitter tea you have here," he told the man.

Leaning casually against the counter, he looked round. He remembered some of the folks in the bar, some he didn't. Glaring surreptitiously at the strangers, he wondered who might be part of AVALANCHE. About all he could remember about the terrorists whose attack had led to the aborted launch was that one wore a bandana.

The innkeeper came back with the tea, steaming and too hot to drink. "Thanks," Cid said, taking the cup with satisfaction. "So, how many more days till the launch?"

"Just ten more. You gonna stay till then? You won't want to miss history being made."

So he had ten days, huh? So it was the second of April... or the night of the first? AVALANCHE hadn't shown up until the eleventh. Cid had the nagging feeling that he wasn't remembering something. Something else horrible was happening right fucking now. Damn, what was it? He tried to think back... Or, fuck, was he thinking forward? If this was time travel, it was fucking confusing. He dragged himself back on task, and tried to recall some of the conversations he'd had with his friends. Corel's reactor would blow next month. He had better warn Barret somehow. But that still wasn't it.

Cid gulped some just-barely-cool-enough tea. The relevant discussions had been too goddam long ago. Fuck Shinra. He and his had too many scars from them. Scars... Experiments, he realized with furious horror. Red was still free, for now, if he remembered right. Poor critter had been captured late in the year. But Nibelheim had already burned and Spike was serving his time as a lab rat. It was difficult to resist the mental urge to throw the mug against the wall and storm out, cursing Hojo all the way, but somehow he resisted.

"Sir... SIR!" The barkeep was leaning across the counter, reaching to tap his shoulder.

Startled, Cid swore and jerked back. "Shit, you don't need to fucking yell in my ear! I'm not that old."

"Sorry, sir, but you weren't answering. Do you want a room?"

Zoned out, huh? Well, trying to keep himself calm when his natural instinct when angered was to swear a blue streak and hit something demanded a lot of concentration. He sipped his tea before answering the man behind the counter. "Nah. I'll be back in a few days with a friend."

The innkeeper paused, than smiled. "You sure? If you're planning on coming back, you probably want to reserve a room now. With the launch coming up, rooms for the next week and a half are going quick."

Cid considered. He didn't really want to leave tracks, but he also didn't want to come back with a fugitive, possibly wounded or sick comrade and have nowhere to stay. "Sure," he answered. "One room, two beds, for, er… four days from now, for five nights. I wouldn't want to miss this launch for the world…" A sudden, flickering idea came to him, and he grinned slowly. "You know what, I think I might know someone else who wouldn't want to miss this." Cid's bloodthirsty smile made the innkeeper give him an odd look and as soon as he'd taken payment for the room, he beat a hasty retreat to his other customers. Oh yes, Cid knew. There was one person who wouldn't want to miss this.

Drinking the last of his tea, Cid started to mull over how he was going to pull this off. It would need to be done quickly, with no observation. He'd need some better weapons and supplies if he didn't want to be caught. Going over to a table he sat down and started to make a mental check list of what he had and what he'd need. He pushed up his sleeve, examining the Edincoat bracelet around his wrist thoughtfully. After Deepground, he and the others had all started to carry a handful of materia with them everywhere, just in case. He was equipped with a Restore, Lightning, Fire, Ice, Mystify, Earth and Haste. What he really wanted was for this plan was Sleep, linked with All, but the Edincoat didn't have any linked materia slots. He wasn't about to consider swapping his prize out, either. It reminded him of a very good day. He chuckled with dark amusement at the memory of that lardass Palmer getting run over by some random truck. The problem at hand, though, was that he still needed a decent weapon, medical supplies, food, and transportation. Maybe some dream powder and loco weed too.

The sun had fully set while he was inside, and a cool breeze ruffled his graying hair as he stepped outside. Lighting up a cigarette, he wondered which bits of gear he could get at this time of day. The shops he was interested in would be closed or closing up for the night. He already had an idea about transport, but he'd have to pick it up later. He strolled into the residential area. He soon came to old Rory's house. The man would be in his sixties right now, about a decade older than Cid's own age. Cid was almost as old as a man he'd always seen as old and washed up. That was a rough thought. Still, Rory was the easiest option for a great weapon. Vanity would have to take a hike. Quickly going up to the door, he knocked roughly. Soon an elderly lady came to the door and peered up at him through a pair of thick spectacles. If this was going to work, he was gonna need to do it right.

"Evenin', Ma'am. Sorry to to trouble ya, but I need to talk to Rory," he stated.

She nodded, though her expression remained slightly wary, and invited him in, leading him into a sitting room where Rory was seated. More importantly, at least by Cid's measure, there was a familiar spear on display above the fireplace. The old man looked up, curiosity written on his weathered face.

"Can I help you with something?" the man asked.

Tacking a seat across from him, Cid began to spin his story.

"Well, long story short, I lost my spear not too long ago. Damn good weapon, but it got stuck in a monster's spine and snapped. I need a replacement, quick. A friend of mine's in deep shit and I intend to help him out. Passing through town, I heard you used to be a spearman yourself, and I was wondering if you had any I could use." It took all he had not to look at the fireplace.

"Well, that's pretty noble of yah. But I'm afraid, I ain't got any spears left. Well, besides my pride and joy up there." Rory nodded towards Venus Gospel, its golden blade glimmering enticingly. Cid bit back a regretful sigh. That was his pride and joy, too. Damn, he wanted his spear back.

"What sort of trouble has your friend gotten into?"

What would get him enough sympathy for Rory to hand over the spear? Cid considered options. Reckoning there wasn't much more awful than the truth, he said "Kid got kidnapped after he watched his home burned and his family murdered."

Rory's eyes bugged out. "That bad?! And you're going after him unarmed?"

"Not completely." Cid held up his Edincoat, the cuff of his rough coat slipping down from the bangle. "But I'd feel better about if I had something reliable and solid in my hands."

"Yeah. I hear ya." Rory nodded sympathetically. "How old's the kid?"

Lightning fast, Cid did the mental math. "'Bout seventeen now."

The old man grimaced. "You related?"

"Nah. Feels like it sometimes though. Kid's got a guilt complex as deep as the norther crater and a stubborn streak as wide as the ocean. He needs somebody ta keep an eye on him."

"Sounds like you're a good man- Er, what's your name?"

Without thinking, he answered "Cid" and caught himself just in time. "Just call me Cid." If Rory pressed for a last name, he'd just use his ma's maiden name.

The old man didn't ask though, and didn't seem suspicious. "Well, Cid, as long as you don't stick her someplace where she'll break, you can take Venus Gospel. Oh, and if ya come back this way, I'd like to meet this young man."

Cid gave the old man the most genuine smile he could. "I'll bring him by if I can."

The conversation drifted to the merits of the spear, with Cid welcome to spend the night before going on his rescue mission.

Day Two

Cid sighed, setting the transport chopper down delicately. He hated flying helicopters. Damn noisy things were too finicky for his taste. He'd rather have brought the Tiny Bronco. Flying that plane was a damn joy. Swift, responsive, its only flaw was an infrequent habit of stalling out midair. Like that time he'd been flying over the Nibel mountain range and ended up having to ski down a snow covered slope, or that time over the Corel desert. The engines had still been working, but for some reason he couldn't get any lift, so he'd used it as a hover craft to skim over the sand. He'd even used it as a boat a couple times. Point was, it had character and could get through anything you asked it to, even if it wasn't exactly how you wanted.

He'd decided against taking it for three reasons. One, he was certain his younger self would probably hunt him down and try to kill him for stealing his baby. Two, Broncos, because of their rarity, were easily recognized. Three, Nibelheim didn't have an airstrip, meaning only a chopper could land in its mountainous terrain. At least he could not only get in and out fast, but it lessened the odds of anybody seeing him.

After a quick shopping trip this morning, he'd snuck onto the Shinra airfield and liberated one of the transport choppers. After hot-wiring it, he found its tracker and ripped the darn thing out. He wasn't going to give those fuckers a chance to figure out where he was going. It only took him two hours of flight to reach the secluded town of Nibelheim. Now that he was here, he threw some camouflage netting over the vehicle. Once he was satisfied that anyone flying over would have a hard time spotting it, he clambered into the hold.

Now, he didn't plan to do anything stupid like charging in only to get himself captured. He wasn't suicidal or fucking moronic enough to go in without a good solid plan. Not to mention the fact that he'd never been here before. He was just going off what he'd heard from the others. So, first things first, recon. Rummaging around in the compartments under the seats he was finally rewarded with what he was looking for. There was a reason he'd picked a transport - it was full of extra supplies and spare uniforms. He pulled on one that fit well, and figured he looked pretty convincing. Hell, if Red could pull off being a sailor, and damn, he regretted not seeing that, than he could damn sure do the same as a trooper. All he'd need to remember was to say "Yes, sir" instead of "Fuck you, shitbag". He left Venus Gospel in the chopper, taking a trooper's standard-issue rifle and baton instead. He'd want the spear tomorrow, but for now it was better if he didn't stand out.

Securing his helmet, he set out on the short hike into town. He slipped behind one of the houses and watched the inhabitants of the recreated town. It looked like most of them were Shinra troopers, with a few scattered civilians. Hang on, he remembered. They weren't civilians, they were actors replacing the real Nibelheim locals who had died. Shinra was covering its bloated ass, keeping up a semblance of normality so that the few people who came through wouldn't find out what had happened. Bloodsucking parasite sons of whores.

Cid took a deep breath to calm himself down. Unfortunately, that breath was laced with the cold smell of old ash and fresh pine from the new buildings around him. He held a breath instead, cursing Shinra 10 times, before walking out with a confident stride from behind the building. He marched right through and out of that damn town, towards where he remembered the others saying the mansion was. As he walked through the open, rusting gates he passed a pair of scientists heading into town. They were chuckling, and it took a lot of self control not to shout at or shoot them. Those fuckers were responsible for how messed up Spike was. He walked stiffly to the door, a part of him shouting that this was a stupid plan and that he should just get the hell out of there.

Cid snorted. Too late to back out now. He opened the creaking door and saluted the troopers stationed at the bottom of the sweeping stairs. Better safe than sorry. He made his way upstairs, while looking surreptitiously around the bottom floor. With those two troopers there, he couldn't really go exploring. He hurriedly checked the upper level rooms. While they all looked like people were livin' in 'em, none of 'em were currently occupied. He found the bedroom with the secret staircase, but it wasn't being kept hidden right now. The damn thing was open, thank Shiva, so he made his way down the creaking wooden staircase. The manor's lighting hadn't been too good, but at least it had all those windows. The basement, with its flickering, inconstant lighting, was downright miserable.

Muttering curses like a mantra, Cid walked along the gloomy corridor until a scream made him jump. He dashed forward a few steps before remembering himself. Taking a deep breath, a mistake in this moldy place, he squared his shoulders and continued calmly towards the sound. He passed another two guards. Again, he saluted. He got an answering salute back from one. The other stood with his fists clenched at his sides. As Cid approached them carefully, he saw the man was pale and sweating. He passed between them and into the room. It turned out to be a library, with another room just beyond. Cid clenched his own hands into fists, and walked forward, looking through the door. Someone was whimpering, pleading raggedly. Several scientists, men and women in white lab coats, including that shitbag Hojo, were clustered around a metal operating table. Two looked up as he entered, but looked back down again quickly. The table was facing away from the door, so mercifully Cid didn't have to look too closely at what they were doing. He risked it long enough to see that the poor s.o.b on the table was Cloud. His pale skin blended with the sickly greens and whites of the room, but his hair stood out as much as ever. He looked away again, embarrassed and enraged on the kid's behalf. The pitiful noises, the blood on the scientists' gloved hands, it was all more than enough. Veins pulsed in Cid's temple and neck. He resisted the idea of just shooting all the bastards only with a serious effort.

Those fucking bastards. How could they do this? How could those guards just stand there and let this happen? The scum suckers could have at least put the kid under. On the other hand, hadn't he heard something back in Wutai about a SOLDIER's regenerative ability going down when sufficiently drugged? Their whole system got slower or some shit. So keeping him awake was better than being out, but couldn't the bastards give him some fucking morphine or something? Taking a shaky breath, he began looking around the room. You're on recon only today, he reminded himself. Besides the nightmarish operating table, the other dominant feature of the room was the pair of mako tanks. One was empty, but the other was full of noxious green liquid, and another young man was floating in it. The guy looked pissed, hands clenched against the glass, teeth bared. Must be what's his name, the guy that got Cloud out. Cid sidled quietly over to the tank to get a better look at the controls. There were a lot of damn buttons. How the hell did you open the damn thing? He looked up the tank's occupant. The trapped SOLDIER was glaring at him for all he was worth. Cid just gave a small smirk and mouthed the word "hey". The guy scowled more deeply, but after a moment when Cid just kept smiling, all friendly-like, tilted his head curiously.

With his back to the scientists, Cid pointed at the buttons, and shrugged very slightly. The guy's brows knit. He looked at the scientists and the guards in the hallway, before looking back down at Cid. His expression was very guarded now. Cid wondered whether the poor guy thought it was a trap. He was trying to figure out how to ask by sign language which button would open the damn tank when Cloud screamed again. It sounded as though it had been dragged out of the kid with iron hooks. Cid nearly blew his cover then, because he couldn't help unslinging his rifle. The SOLDIER had jerked up at the noise, snarling again, but he looked down again in time to see Cid repositioning the gun. Cid grinned as reassuringly as he could manage, which wasn't very, and gave a tiny nod. He knew he had to get out of there, or he'd blow his cover for sure. He walked calmly out of the room, saluting the guards again as he passed. When he was a long way down the dark hallway, he let out a low string of curses vile enough to make even the worst sinner blush.

Damn, he was going to need help because next time he ran across those bitch-asses he was going to kill them. So help him Minerva, he was going to kill them. He spent the rest of the day scooping the place out, but staying as far away from the lab as possible. By the end he'd figured the place was perfect for getting into, because no one thought anyone would be brave and/or dumb enough to try, but damn near impossible to get out of. Tomorrow, he'd have to go recruiting.

Day Three

"Stop," the guard ordered. "What's in the box?"

"No idea. The professor sent for it."

"Professor Hojo?"

"Yes, sir."

The guard looked back over his shoulder at the stairs, before nodding and giving Cid what was probably supposed to be a sympathetic squeeze to his shoulder.

"Good luck."

"Thanks." I'm gonna need it more'n you know, he thought to himself.

Maneuvering the long box down the narrow basement stairs proved difficult. It would be a lot easier if he could just ditch the box, but spears weren't a typical Shinra weapon, and a trooper carrying one would attract the wrong kind of attention. At least claiming that the box was for the fucking deranged half-baked professor meant no one asked too many questions. It wasn't even a lie. Venus Gospel was in the box, and it was gonna be in the professor's hands (and heart, and possibly throat) before the end of the week. Unfortunately, Cid couldn't just walk up to the fucking rat and stick him. Not if he wanted to get the rescuees and himself out successfully. That was where the next part of the plan came into play.

Some random fuck in a lab coat was standing in the hallway, looking through a sheaf of notes. Cid cleared his throat. "Excuse me, I was told to put this in the storeroom at the end of the hall, but the damn door's locked. Know where I can find the key?"

"That room's not in use. Just put it in the regular storeroom," came the man's condescending voice.

"I was told to put it in that one."

The lab coat pinched his nose. "What idiot told you that?"

"The professor," Cid drawled, getting a kick out of how the man paled. "Look, do you know where the key is?" he urged. The man just nodded. "Then go get it, and I won't tell the professor what you called him."

The spooked man quickly scurried off, leaving behind a very satisfied Cid. It was poetic justice. Dropping the creepy bastard's name was proving very effective at sabotaging the shitbag. When the lab coat came back, he handed Cid an old, rusty key before making himself scarce. Chuckling to himself, Cid ambled up to Vincent's door, unlocked it, and stepped inside. He closed the door behind him, too; he didn't need anyone else hearing the upcoming conversation. With the door shut, the only light was the fluorescent lighting seeping through the cracks around the door. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the dimness. Eventually, he could make out dim shapes in the gloom. Some wooden boxes and barrels, and four coffins, one of which contained the sleeping Vincent. Cid had heard about it, but this was ridiculous. Seriously, the guy was like a fucking pantomime vampire in here. He leaned the box against the wall and started pulling the lids off coffins. He found the one that housed the familiar red-cloaked gunman on his second try.

"Fuck, Vincent, you plan to sleep your whole life? Get your ass out of that damn coffin and help me get some kids out of here... Oh yeah, and we'll kill that fucking rat Hojo that calls himself a professor while we're at it. That guy's a moron if he thinks his ass is safe from fucking karma."

Vincent didn't even open his eyes.

"Go away."

"Like hell I'm gonna. Damn it, Vincent, if I have to fucking drag you out of there, so help me, I will," he threatened, but got no response. "Alright. Be that way."

Taking a few steps back, Cid pulled Edincoat out of his pocket. He secured it around his wrist and started to warm up his fire materia.

"Last warning, Vinny. Get up, or I'm burning your fucking box."

That got a response. Vincent shot out of the coffin, golden claw aimed at his chest. Dodging to the side, Cid carried on unperturbed.

"Great. Now that you're up, this place has to have more than one entrance, 'cuz I don't see how they could have gotten all this fucking junk down here without everyone in town knowing. Or down that worm-eaten death trap those shitasses call stairs. I mean, even before fucking Sephiroth burned the place down this lab was here, so how the fuck did they get it all in?" Cid asked the ex-Turk. But the man seemed to be focusing on the wrong part of Cid's question.

"Sephiroth... burned?"

Damn. At least he was paying attention now. "Long story. I'll explain later, when a friend of mine ain't getting tortured in a fucking room down that fucking hall." He jerked his thumb to indicate the hall behind him.

"Hojo... has your friend. Is that why you're betraying Shinra?"

"The fuck I am! I don't work for those fuckers!" The faintest expression of disbelief flickered over Vincent's face. Cid belatedly remembered what he was wearing. "Oh hell, the uniform." He pulled off the helmet, ran a hand through his greying blonde hair, and continued. "Nah, I haven't worked for them slave-makers for years; used to, as a pilot, but I been disillusioned by some crap since." He hefted the helmet. "I'm just borrowing the damn thing to get in an' out of this shithole. Can't figure out how to get my friend out though. That's where you come in. See?"

"You mentioned 'some kids'. One is your friend. Who are the others?"

"Just one other. A friend of my friend. They're in deep shit and need help fast. Any ideas?"

"Why should I help you?" Vincent looked away, fastening his eyes on a bone propped against a wall. "What Shinra does is none of my business."

"Because, somewhere in that damn dark soul of yours, you got a fucking heart. And 'cuz I know where to find that lady friend of yours."

Vincent lunged again, moving more quickly than before, wrapping his golden claws around Cid's neck. Cid berated the man. "Shit, Vincent, I plan to tell ya as soon as Cloud's out of here. I can't fucking well talk if I'm dead, now can I. So get the shit off and fucking help."

There was an uncomfortable minute or two before the gunman withdrew the razor sharp claws. "There is a hidden elevator leading to a tunnel which connects to the reactor. The difficult part will be to get them out from under that man's nose. Then you must get them off the mountain, which, depending on their condition, may prove difficult."

"Well, I can't vouch for their condition, but we'll be taking a helicopter off this godsforsaken hunk of rocks. I got one stashed on the east side of town. I could move it up closer to the reactor."

Vincent nodded. "For now, it will take me a few days to learn the rounds of the guards and the scientists' routines."

"Damn. I don't have a few days." Vincent lifted an eyebrow inquiringly. Cid wasn't much good at reading the man's expressions, but that one was designed to be understood. "Got another person to save, with a deadline that's fast approaching. Tell ya what. We won't worry about fucking finesse. I'll head out, get the chopper to the reactor, and head back by that tunnel. I'll meet up with you in there, then use these to stir up a distraction." He held up his bracer to show off his materia. "We'll wreak some holy havoc, get the kids, then all of us'll get the hell out of here."

Leaning forward slightly, Vincent studied Edincoat and the materia slotted into it. "Restore, Lightning, Fire, Ice, Mystify, Earth and Haste. All mastered," he mused. "One could certainly generate quite a large amount of damage with those. However, your plan is still unwise."

Cid grinned. "Yeah, maybe. Probably. But them fucks won't be expecting it and all we have to do to get away is collapse the tunnel after us. If those shit-heads want to follow us, they'll have to hike up the damn mountain and by then we'll be long gone."

"Is there a tracker in your helicopter?" Vincent inquired.

"Used to be," Cid grinned.

"...I see. What type of helicopter?"

"Transport. ...Don't give me that look. I know the damn things are fucking loud, but I need something that size for another job."

"You seem to be quite busy."

"Damn right I am. The whole damn planet is going to hell in a fucking hand-basket and I know a couple things that will save it. Hell, I ain't setting out to be some damn hero, but I'd like a place to live out my retirement peaceably and that's not gonna happen with how fucked up things are right now."

"I am only helping you with getting your friend out of this lab. Nothing else."

"Sure." He shrugged. "But ya know, the other job's up at the reactor. You helping out would make things go a lot faster."

Red eyes flashed in warning. "And what job is that?" the gunman growled.

"Just picking up some blue alien bitch and then blasting her off the damn planet and back to where ever the hell she came from."

"Jenova?"

"No, Minerva," Cid deadpanned. "Damn right, Jenova! Ya know of anything else that fits the fucking description?" he said.

Silence. Apparently, Vincent didn't feel like responding to the jab.

"Right, I gotta get going." Cid started to head for the door but stopped, turning back to the gunman who currently had no gun. "Here, picked this up for you. Ain't no Cerberus, but it'll do." He handed over a Quicksilver pistol to Vincent before saying "I'll meet ya tomorrow evening 'round seven or so."

Vincent gave a nod. Good enough, Cid supposed. Slipping out of the room, he pocketed the old key. No reason to give it back. If that lab coat caught hell over losing it, well, it wasn't Cid's problem.

Day Four

"SOLDIER 1st Class Zack Fair and Corporal Cloud Strife were returned to their mako tanks an hour ago with a minimal guard. However, the scientists remain in the room, going over test results."

Cid jumped, whipping around and raising his standard issue baton at the talking shadow. "Shit, Vincent, you could give a guy a heart attack."

Unperturbed, the gunman stepped out of the gloom. They were currently standing in the connecting tunnel that they planned to use as an escape route.

"And ya could have warned me about all the damn sahagins crawling around," Cid complained, puffing on the fourth cigarette he'd lit since entering the godforsaken tunnel. "Damn inbreedings of drunk lizards and turtles are a fucking nuisance."

The whole place smelled more like a fucking sewer used by dragons with diarrhea than some secret supply route. He was still dressed in the stolen trooper uniform and really couldn't wait to pick up Venus Gospel. He'd run out of bullets somewhere back there and was relegated to close combat using the baton. Thing did a pretty good job at the task; it was just damn fucking annoying when he was used to the reach on a spear. He should have brought his baby with him instead of leaving it with Vincent.

As if reading his thoughts, the gunman reached under his cloak and pulled out the very spear Cid had been sighing for.

"How the hell do you do that?" Cid complained. He'd seen the man pull unexpected things out from under that ridiculous tattered cloak before, but Venus Gospel? The damn thing was longer than Vincent was tall!

Vincent didn't give him an answer, only replying, "I thought you might want it."

"Damn right I do." He took the proffered weapon. It felt good in his hands. Damn, he'd missed his sweet baby. "Right, ready to cause some mayhem?" His grin stretched from ear to ear. This was going to be good.

Day number whatever in hell

Zack had stopped counting how long they'd been in here. All the time he spent drugged, unconscious, or in a mako tank made it real hard to count days. If you had asked him how many days ago that trooper who had grinned at him and almost shot the scientists had been here, all he could have told you was that it had been recently. Really, that had been the only thing interesting thing to happen for a while now. Most of the other stuff, he tried to not to think about. Currently, he was keeping himself occupied by trying to figure out why the guy had smiled. It had been a kinda friendly and reassuring smile, but with an edge, like the guy was planing something.

Damn, hope could be a horrible thing sometimes. Chances were the guy was having a good day and felt like sharing. Really, who the hell here would help them out?

Then again, the guy had nearly shot Hojo. Good thing the scientist hadn't seen that. Argh! Seriously, who was that trooper, and why did he smile? It was driving Zack nuts! It was during these thoughts that the shaking started. At first it was just a small tremor, just enough to get people's attention. The next hit harder, causing items to dance across counters and slide around on shelves. One of the scientists ducked under an operating table, but most were still standing, though some were supporting themselves on counters or each others' shoulders. Hojo staggered to the door, yelling at the guards outside. The next tremor was much stronger. It knocked people to the ground and caused small rocks to fall from the celling. Glass beakers slipped off counters, smashing on the floor.

Nibelheim wasn't known for earthquakes. He glanced at the next tank over, looking for a reaction from the local expert, but Cloud was still out of it from the day's tests. Fucking bastards, he thought viciously. He wished the whole place would come down and crush them. Another tremor rocked the room. More rocks fell, and one of the shelves fell over. He might just get his wish. Of course, he realized ruefully, that would kinda suck too. If the whole place came down, then he and Cloud would either be stuck down here, or be squished as flat as the rest. He didn't want to die in this mako tank.

The lab coats were huddling under the two tables now. Another tremor rocked the room. Another flask, filled with some milky liquid, fell to the floor. It shattered, and its contents flowed out to mix with the fluids already on the floor. A pale vapor began to rise from the spill. One of the scientists noticed it, and grabbed the arm of the woman next to him. She looked, shouted a warning, and the whole lot of them boiled out from under the table like ants with a stick poked into their anthill. Hojo was the first out, and the rest of the scientists followed in a hurry. There were a few brief moments of stillness, then the room shook again. This time, it wasn't an earthquake, but an explosion. Fire ripped in through the open doorway. The wooden cabinets and bookcases began to burn. Some of the stuff that had fallen must have been flammable, too, because there were fire spouts in various colors springing from the floor.

Great, now the place was on fire. This lab just got more and more fun. Eyeing the cabinet closest to the tanks, flames whooshing up its sides, he began to wonder how hot mako had to get before it boiled. Maybe, he thought without much hope, the heat would weaken the tank's thick glass before the liquid inside boiled he and Cloud alive. He punched the curved wall experimentally, but got no joy. He was startled a minute later when the flames around the door were parted by a flurry of ice. The ice spread through the room, coating the floor, and crystalizing slickly on the burning shelves. A trooper stepped through the wrecked door. Oh great, they weren't to be forgotten and left to boil in mako after all. Unusually, the trooper was alone, and not carrying any standard weaponry, but had an impressive custom spear on his back. The man came running over to the tank control panel, just like that other unusual trooper had. Was this the same guy? Between the concealing helmet and the scarf pulled over his face against the smoke, Zack couldn't tell. And, more pressingly, was he here to get them out?

"Damn it! How the hell does this fucking thing work?" The trooper pounded the top of the console in frustration.

Yep, he was. The words were distorted by the thick glass and the mako, but Zack could still make them out. He rapped on the glass to get the guy's attention, and motioned towards the buttons that would drain and open the tank. When the man turned away, Zack flexed his fingers and grinned. Seemed like Hojo didn't want to lose his test subjects after all. Of course he was a coward and had sent in this poor trooper to get them out instead of coming himself, so Zack wouldn't have the satisfaction of revenge. That was okay, though. Vengeance was a poor second to escape.

The stranger hit the wrong button at first, picking the one that pumped more mako in. The console beeped warningly to indicate the tank was already full. The man looked at Zack for clarification, and the SOLDIER gestured "to the left". The stranger hit the correct one this time. The mako went down, and the guy hit the buttons for the two tank's doors before the liquid was even halfway drained. Zack burst out of his as soon as he heard the hiss of the glass unsealing. His enthusiasm worked against him though. Clumsy with long confinement and mako exposure, he tripped over the metal rim and smacked his skull against the toppled shelf. He jerked himself upright, no small feat on the slick ice, and turned, prepared to punch the trooper's lights out. But the stranger was standing in front of the other tank, and caught Cloud as the kid fell out of the tube.

"Come on! We need to get the fuck out of here," the man shouted.

Zack hesitated, but answered "Right." The stranger was making no effort at subduing them, and now that Zack heard him without a wash of viscous green in the way, he realized the guy was way older than usual for a trooper. Whatever was going on here was weird, but Zack's gut instinct was that this guy wasn't here on Hojo's orders. He decided he wasn't going to ask any questions until they were out of the danger zone. First, he needed to get his friend back. "I'll take him."

Zack reached out to grab Cloud, and for a second the stranger's grip tightened on the blond before he let Zack have him.

"Yeah, probably better you than me. I don't need any of that damn mako rubbin' off on me. Now c'mon." The strange trooper turned away. The fire was still burning in the hallway, and the flames had reclaimed the area around the door. The man aimed another ice spell at it, and charged off.

Zack hefted his friend into a more secure position and followed after the man. There were screams coming from the far end of the hall. Nothing was visible through the smoke and fire. Their rescuer turned away from the noise, and went further down the corridor, to where there were fewer flames. Judging by the scorch marks and ice along the walls, Zack figured the fire had started down here. The lights that were suspended on the walls were out. The trooper in front of them was counting under his breath as they passed each light. At "seventeen" he stopped. He touched something high up on the wall, hidden beneath the wire from which the lights hung. With a quiet grinding noise, the stone wall split, revealing an elevator. They rode down in tense silence. After the box came to a stop and the rust covered doors opened, they stepped out into a dark tunnel that smelled strongly of sewage and mold. Zack wrinkled his nose in disgust at the pungent odor.

"Here, dunk yourself with this." The man passed over a large bottle of water that had been hidden inside the passage. Not needing further explanation, Zack took a few sips to wash the smoke from his throat, spitting, then did as he was told, rinsing as much of the mako and soot off his skin as he could manage. He repeated the process with another bottle on Cloud, awkwardly aware of the stranger watching them.

"Right. Now get into these, and sorry if they don't damn well fit; it's all I could fucking find."

Zack took the proffered trooper uniforms, and looked at the labels. He took the bigger one for himself, but seams still popped as he pulled it on. He couldn't get his arms through the sleeves at all, and settled for ripping the damn things off entirely. The rough fabric clung to his wet skin in a way that was almost certainly gonna chafe. He wished mournfully for a SOLDIER uniform, but beggars couldn't be choosers. He started putting on the various accessories - pauldrons, belt and suspenders, knee guards - but the stranger was hovering impatiently over Cloud with the other uniform. Zack left the last bits of his costume on the floor and wordlessly took Cloud's gear from the other man. He still hadn't seen the guy's face. He turned away and knelt, pulling Cloud's limp limbs through sleeves and trouser legs. He could hear the stranger behind him walking away a few steps to give them at least an illusion of privacy. He finished up Cloud's disguise and returned to his own. The too-small boots were going to be his death if they had to walk any long distance. While Zack buckled the ankle straps, their rescuer started talking.

"Now that you're both dressed, we wait here for Vincent, then we'll have you boys out of here." The man had just finished speaking when a tall man with black hair, red eyes and wearing a red cape practically melted out of a nearby shadow. Both Zack and the trooper jumped. Zack's senses must have gotten duller than he'd thought. How the hell had he not noticed the guy standing so close?

"These are yours." The newcomer held out a very familiar looking blade.

"Buster sword... and my materia?! How...? Thanks, man." Don't look at a gift chocobo's beak, he reminded himself. "Right. Where to now?"

If Zack had been asked an hour ago if he thought they would be getting out today, he would have said no. If he'd been asked if he thought that a Shinra trooper would get them out, he'd have said it would be a nice dream. If he'd been asked if he thought he'd be flying out on a stolen Shinra helicopter with Jenova's tank strapped underneath it while sitting next to a Shinra trooper and an ex-Turk as the Nibelheim reactor burned behind them, he would have said to stop being crazy. Then again, crazy things always seemed to be happening to him.