Saria: (grins at the screen)

Zas: Why?

Saria: I'm bored.

Tori: We all know Saria, she has been in almost constant motion for years now. Her back injury is forcing her to stay still.

SA: In other words, she is going to go utterly insane if she can't find a way to entertain herself for the next month.

Zas: But with the way she giggles, her parents are going to be certain that the medication is too much.

Saria: Everyone, be polite and say hello to Mr. Presley!

zzzzzzzzzz

Adventures all have a beginning, but even before that beginning; there is a story about the characters, how they got to be who and what they are.

I think we can skip all of that and just establish who I am. I'm a pilot and I have never been prouder of anything else. I don't fly for any airline though, instead opting for the cargo side of operations. The good news: I have never had to deal with whiny passengers that get mad when the flight gets too rough. The bad news: I'll sometimes fly into very questionable weather. Much like now, where this story begins.

The weather was horrible, lightning flashed around the plane at intermittent intervals. Rain poured, restricting visibility significantly. The turbulence jostled the craft, throwing the tiny plane upwards hundreds of feet, then dropping it hundreds of feet. For a moment, everything in the plane experienced a moment of weightlessness, zero-G.

I grinned as I finally reached a calm area. Sure I loved a bit of turbulence, but the cargo today was several boxes of medical supplies and laboratory specimens. In other words, breakable. Luckily I'd be starting the approach very soon, and though the ceilings were low, all aircraft ahead of me had reported smooth approaches.

Glancing at the seat next to me, I was pleased to see that my back pack was still belted firmly to the seat. Good thing too, if it had slipped out of the restraint, that last bit of turbulence would have certainly smashed my things against the ceiling.

"Ram Ex 142, turn to heading 210, maintain 3000 until established on the localizer, cleared ILS 18L," ATC announced over the radio.

Immediately tapping my own transmit button, I responded, "Ram Ex 142, heading 210, 3000 until established on the localizer, cleared ILS 18L." Redundant? Definitely. But in case of confusion, it was much easier to clarify.

A moment of silence passed as I turned the plane, checking my instruments to insure I was on course and altitude, then the radio squeaked again.

"Ram Ex 142, a cell is passing over the airport. Echoes indicate that there is extreme activity. Can you state your current conditions?"

Taking a quick moment to consider my current conditions, I gave my report. "Ram Ex 142, conditions are clouds and rain, but no turbulence at the moment."

"Roger, if you need to devia-" A splash of violently bright light shot across the sky at that point, the same time the loudest crash of thunder I had ever heard erupted. And to my horror, the radios went dead.

"Oh hell," I murmured as I attempted to check the circuit breakers while keeping an eye on my Nav 2 receiver, which oddly enough had remained active. Great, I was flying deaf in busy airspace on an approach which I had thankfully been cleared for, during very bad weather. Only one thing to do in this situation since troubleshooting didn't seem to be working. Transmit the code for radio outage and fly the best approach I could. I would not be going missed on this one; there was no way I'd be able to get back.

The instruments indicated that I was on the approach path, and I turned the plane on course. The glide slope that would direct my descent indicated that the path was above me, so I just needed to hold altitude until I intersected with it.

"Ram Ex 142, on the localizer," I called out over the radio. I severely doubt anyone heard, but regulations dictated that I should continue to report on the off chance that someone did.

The instruments indicated that the descent path, the glide slope, was almost at my altitude. Reaching over, I lowered the landing gear switch and breathed a sigh of relief as the red gear unsafe light was replaced by the green lights that meant the gear was down and secure several seconds later. Right in time to begin the final descent for the airport.

Lightning danced again as ear shattering thunder rolled, only this time, the lightning lingered, jumping around the plane, striking through the glass. Striking my backpack! I almost screamed right then, but chose to keep my attention where it belonged, on the aircraft. I needed to get this bird down!

White light once again illuminated the cockpit, but this time it came from beside me. Checking out of the corner of my eye so as not to lose the approach, I saw that my bag had opened, and my new PSVita was hovering in the air!

Forcing my attention away from the obviously stress-induced hallucination, I fought to keep the plane level while continuing the descent. I continued to ignore the light as I descended through 2000 feet, only about 1170 more feet until the decision altitude. All that time, the light grew brighter and brighter, then the turbulence kicked in again.

Tensing, I pushed as firmly as I dared to force the plane to continue downward at a set rate. At 1500 feet, the hallucination light finally seemed to envelope the entire craft before dissipating completely, much to my relief. Even better, the radio snapped back on. Right on tower frequency!

"Tower, Ram Ex 142, lost radios for a moment, currently on the ILS 18L at 1430!" I called out.

A few moments passed, then a squeaky voice announced in an oh so intelligent manner, "What?"

I was descending through 1300 feet now; I didn't have time for a slow air traffic controller! "Ram Ex 142, am I cleared to land?" I demanded loudly.

"Um… Yes?" The voice squeaked.

"Ram Ex 142 cleared to land runway 18L!" I practically shouted, eyeing my altimeter as I descended through 1200. I should be down in less than a minute at this rate!

Keeping half an eye on my descent and approach path indicators, I began searching for the runway. This particular approach would take me to 200 feet over the runway, if I could see the runway lights or environment from there, then I could make a landing.

Passing through 1000 feet, I really began to focus, I was certain that I was getting the first glimpses of lights beneath me. 900 feet, and I was certain of those lights, a few more feet and I would see the runway!

Breaking out proved to be a seriously disconcerting experience. I was certain I should have been looking down at one of the Atlanta airports, but I didn't think any very tall buildings would be this close to the airports! Luckily though, I did see the runway!

"YES!" I shouted to no one at all. Fun part of single pilot operations, probably the most dangerous area you could be in, but you could still get bored enough to talk to yourself. Or excited as was my case.

As I continued for the landing, finally emerging from the cloud soup I had been swimming in for several hours, I began to notice something strange about this runway. The runway lights were all evenly spaced, which was normal, but the identifier lights were missing, as were the runway length lights, centerline lights… and were those houses? Oh crap…

Part of me immediately thought to put in full power and go around, but common sense also pointed out to me this: my plane systems were obviously on the fritz after being struck by lightning. If I didn't land here, then I might not get another chance at a safe landing.

Thus, I was forced to make my first ever off-airport landing. On a residential street of Atlanta, in questionable weather, after being struck by lightning, in the middle of the freaking night. I hope the residents here had a good sense of humor.

Landing wasn't too bad, though I did feel crowded by the buildings that surrounded the street, and I quickly shut down the engine and electric systems, after activating my emergency location transponder. Grabbing my backpack, making sure that my PSVita was inside, and then briefly checking my phone, I discovered I had no reception. Zipping the bag shut, I unlatched the door and climbed out of the cockpit.

All around me, the buildings rose up several stories, all of them at least four stories tall! They didn't look rundown either, which could be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on the residents. Working class people could be reasoned with, rich people would most likely be troublesome.

Running over to the first door on the closest building, I knocked rapidly. "Hello? Is anyone there?" I called. I heard no one inside, and after several moments I moved to the next door over. Once again there was no answer when I knocked and shouted. Third door however did get a response.

"You stay out there!" A voice shouted at me before I even knocked.

"Sir, please! I just had an in-flight emergency and had to set down here because my systems were not working properly. I need to use your phone!"

"The authorities have already sent an advisory for all residents to stay inside. They'll be here in under a minute!"

"Seriously?" I replied, disbelieving that the police would get here so fast. I was certain I'd need to give an address and then wait for at least twenty minutes. I must have been tracked by radar by air traffic control who updated the police. Ok then, since that has been taken care of, I'd better check the cargo.

Moving back to the plane, I opened the rear cargo door and pulled back the cargo net, giving the boxes a quick cursory once over to check for any leaks in the packages. Right as I reached the conclusion that everything was alright, a large and strong hand grabbed my shoulder and spun me around.

The man in front of me wore a suit and looked like he was part of the secret service to be honest. Glancing around, I spied several unmarked vans and an expensive black car.

Well, might as well see how far my luck had already been pushed.

"Hi, would you mind letting me borrow your phone? Mine seems to be broken, probably because of the lightning that shorted out my navigational systems and radios, and I'd like to call the courier from…" I grabbed the load manifest to check the name of the company. "Shinra Science Department?" I will admit that I was confused by this; I thought the company was LabCorp.

The man stared at me for a moment before signaling two men in ridiculous blue uniforms to come over then said to me in a stern voice, "Stay here."

"Yes sir!" I replied as I snapped a salute.

I watched him pull out a rather large and bulky phone as he walked over to the car, probably confirming my tail number and the delivery, strange he didn't ask my name or if I was alright. My company was bound to be in contact with ATC also, so they would call the courier even if I didn't get the opportunity.

"So, you were the pilot little missy?" One of the men asked. Turning to stare at the two, I noticed that they both wore helmets not unlike what the infantry men wore in FFVII and Crisis Core. I kind of wonder how they were able to see out of those things.

"Sure am!" I replied with a grin. "Been flying for over eight years now and never regretted a moment of it!" Except when I was instructing, but they don't need to know that.

The two nodded then looked at the plane. "Does this thing fly well?"

"Relatively," I answered honestly.

"How fast does it go?"

"I can get this particular sucker up to 155 knots!" I replied with a grin.

At their shared looks of confusion, I did some quick mental math. "About 180 miles per hour."

They still looked confused, so I converted once more. "300 kilometers per hour."

The men looked like I had just pulled out a giant herring and smacked them with it.

"Damn," one of them whistled.

"You two, unload that plane and get it to the proper airport. Make sure you collect the load manifest." Glancing over, I saw that Mr. Suit was back and off the phone. His attention turned to me. "I'll be escorting you to the main building where payment can be arranged, as well as determination over whether you should be held accountable for this."

Payment? Didn't they pay the company directly? "Should I bring my flight plans, sectionals, and logs to help with my case?" I asked.

"No, what happened is obvious," he replied. I had a terrible sinking feeling.

Glancing back at the two other men, he barked, "Move!"

"Yes Rude Sir!" The men replied as they saluted, one of them grabbing the manifest from me before turning to grab one of the boxes from the plane.

Wait a moment, Rude? Come to think of it, he did resemble FFVII's Rude, to an uncanny degree at that.

"Come," he ordered, directing me to the car.

I don't know why I obeyed the way I did, maybe I was just in shock. But within moments I was seated in the back of the car, Rude was behind the steering wheel, and we were pulling away from where my plane was being unloaded by a bunch of untrained oafs who intended to take it to an airport afterwards, then the car was on a freeway speeding towards the large building I had seen from the air mere minutes ago. And inscribed on the front of the tower was the insignia that I recognized as the Shinra logo from all the games.

"So, I really made it to Midgar," I stated weakly, hoping beyond hope that this "Rude" would say that I was wrong, that we were in Atlanta, that I must have hit my head too hard.

"Yes, a rather stupid stunt trying to get through this weather," Rude replied.

"Haha, well, we freight dogs are known for having balls to do inadvisable stunts," I responded, feeling my stomach go completely cold. Thinking back, I remembered that I had been playing FFVII on my PSVita earlier, maybe I was just dreaming after a very stress filled day, already on the ground and home. It had happened before, that I would go home, fall asleep, and dream of work, completely forgetting that I had finished the day in real life while in that state.

Drawing in a quick breath, which felt real enough despite the fact that dreams usually broke down for me as soon as I had rationalized this far, I gave myself a quick, hard pinch on the wrist.

That I felt pain and didn't wake simultaneously excited and worried me. There wasn't time to get very worked up though; we arrived just minutes after my revelation that this could be very real.

zzzzzzzzzz

I wasn't escorted through the front entrance, instead Rude drove the car into a hidden car garage and we rode the elevator up to the 44th floor. Apparently, that was where room that was considered the low level meeting room as well as the "interview" rooms were located.

I was first led to one of these "interview" rooms, there I was asked about what happened during the flight.

I told them how the flight, though bumpy, was uneventful until the lightning strike and that afterwards I lost most of my Navigation instruments as well as my radio. How I intercepted the approach course and was following that to the ground, and the split second decision I made to land since my radios were fried anyway.

My "Interviewer" nodded as he kept notes on my remarks, I in turn noted that he wore the uniform of the Turks. Which meant that the events of FFVII hadn't started yet since I didn't recognize him! If there were Turks other than Tseng, Elena, Reno, and Rude, then they hadn't been "retired" yet!

If I could get out of here, with my plane, then there was a LOT I could do! I could help Zack survive, and then Aeris, the Sector Seven Plate, Wedge, Biggs, Jessie, the people of Mideel… Good lord, I'm making myself dizzy.

"Katana," a woman who I vaguely recognized as "Shotgun" of the Turks, stated as she entered the room.

The male Turk, "Katana" apparently, nodded to her. She gave me a smile that looked like it was meant to be reassuring, and then took the man's place behind the desk as he departed. She placed my backpack on the table in front of us.

"I want you to unpack this for me, if you don't mind. Company policy."

I nodded as I reached out and grabbed the pack, opening the main compartment first. "In here I have three books, pajamas, a spare pair of pants, shirt, and other garments, my log book, a folder, a notebook, and my emergency snacks." I laid the various items on the table in front of her before moving to the next compartment. Hell, my PSVita is in this compartment… Maybe I can pass it off as one of those super old and simple game systems that only play one programmed game.

"Travel toothbrushes, travel sized shampoo and conditioner, comb, hair ties, mini-hairbrush, ointment, band-aids, chapstick, flight medical, bar soap, tissues, radio operator's license, old game, hand sanitizer, napkins, mini-screwdriver, two knives, and aspirin." Once more, I have piled the items on the table, praying that she doesn't give the Vita a second glance since I made it a point not to look at it after setting it down.

Now the forward most compartment. This time, I started to seriously sweat. I had my wallet, cell phone, pilot licenses, passport, and a Kindle in this particular compartment. I'm not foolish enough to think I can fool her, luckily I didn't have to.

Right as I began to unzip that compartment, the door was opened and in walked none other than Prof. Hojo himself, complete in a lab coat. What an honor!

"What is going on here?" the deranged scientist demanded of the blond woman across from me. "I was not expecting to receive these samples for another week due to weather. This being, though none too fascinating to look at, has acted as a great enabler for me. Stop this foolishness at once!"

I don't know if I was thankful for Hojo, or seriously insulted.

Shotgun on the other hand looked ready to protest, but decided in the end that it wasn't worth the effort. She stood fluidly, gave me a nod which I returned with a sincere look, and departed. I quickly gathered my things and shoved them haphazardly into my backpack.

"You know better than to make great men wait, even at personal risk. I wish more of your generation had picked up on such habits." Hojo was seriously tooting his own horn, and he seemed to expect me to take it as a compliment. I can play along for now, especially if it will keep me out of searches.

"I believe that it is my parents you should thank for that. They always impressed upon me the notion that to keep another waiting when you were able was laziness," I replied as I finished zipping my pack and stood from the table.

"An excellent lesson indeed." Reaching back to his assistant, Hojo grabbed an envelope which he tossed to me. I didn't bother to check the contents. That would appear unprofessional, rude, and most importantly, if they did purposefully place the incorrect amount inside, I wouldn't know.

"Since it's so late, and you obviously pushed yourself harshly to make it here tonight, I've had the company make arrangements for you to stay in one of our guestrooms. You can depart tomorrow."

"You have my gratitude," was my answer as I offered a small, polite bow to the man.

Hojo seemed to grin at my gesture, a horrible twisting of the lips that only the insane and sadistic can accomplish. "Excellent manners indeed," he stated. "Would you mind telling me your name?"

My thoughts raced, I didn't want to give him my real name, but I couldn't give him one I wasn't used to responding to. "Rachas." It was the nickname I used to be called by students and co-workers.

Hojo nodded as he turned toward the door and almost got barreled into by another assistant who rushed into the room.

"Professor, the lab in Nibelheim has reported that two samples have just escaped!" The man blurted this before he realized my presence.

"Seeing as how you are a very busy man, I believe that this would be an excellent time to excuse myself," I quietly stated as I stepped around the man and departed the room, the other assistant joining me in the hall immediately, remarking that he would escort me to the proper place.

zzzzzzzzzz

The room I was in resembled an elegant hotel suite, complete with a sitting room, kitchenette, and dining room on top of the typical bedroom and bathroom. I was thankful for the space, I was nervous enough that I was pacing the floor in all of those extra rooms.

In my world, it should be after midnight, my watch confirms that. Here, the clocks in the kitchen, sitting room, and bedroom all state that it is not yet even ten.

By my estimations, I landed here about an hour and a half ago. The Turks had taken all of an hour to interrogate/debrief me. I had been placed in this room fifteen minutes ago. Cloud and Zack had just escaped. How did I really get here? Lightning strikes all the time, that doesn't result in you finding yourself in a video game/alternate dimension!

Maybe I need to relax with a hot shower. There isn't much I can do at the moment, and nothing would be more suspicious than a "guest" attempting to leave Shinra HQ at this hour of night.

Rifling through my pack, I pulled out my shampoo, conditioner, comb, and soap as well as my pajamas. I hope they have towels here.

Flicking on the bathroom light, I felt my mouth unhinge. Not because the bathroom proved to be just as well appointed as the other rooms, but because I got a good look at myself in the mirror.

My natural hair color is a strange blend of dirty blond, brown, and red. I look blond under the sun, very light brown under most artificial light, and red under very bright artificial light. That apparently doesn't exist in this world. I am inarguably blond now. Good lord, I'm going to be the butt of my own favorite jokes now!

Groaning, I made a note to grab some dye as soon as I got out of here as I moved toward the shower and started the water. A shower, then bed. A night to let things settle in my head, and I should be able to think clearly.

zzzzzzzzzz

All around me, I could feel the green river that flowed, unabated by my form. It felt clean, alive, and oddly desperate. It left the impression on me that someone far off was screaming, screaming in pain, screaming for help…

'Come to me…' The words seemed to float through the air, and as they did, the green river vanished. 'Come… I called… Answer."

'Who's there?' My mind shouted, as I found that my mouth didn't seem to exist here.

'Come…'

'Where?' I asked, and before me appeared the image of a door. A door I remembered well from the games.