Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

-- The Sample

(Post Reno's part of Chapter 6, the result of testing on the 'blood' sample that Reno got from King)

 --

Reno kept himself propped up casually in the doorframe, the very picture of nonchalant. He wasn't. This was the science department. Nonchalance got you maimed. Inside the room that he was oh-so-casually blocking, a pair of diligent lab techs puttered around nervously. Honestly, 'nervous' seemed to be the default state of everyone left in the science department. If you showed an ounce of spine, Hojo hated you, if you tried to suck up, he used you until you disappeared- voluntarily or not- and if you ignored him, you disappeared involuntarily regardless. The worst was the one time that someone half way intelligent was hired to the department. That poor woman. She was never the same.

So the jittery pair shuffled, hunched and wary around the lab. It didn't matter if Hojo was in a holding cell in the second sub-basement, his malevolence haunted the labs.

The first thing that Reno had done with his handkerchief of blood was report its existence to Tseng. Then, he sectioned off some of it and secreted it away to the Turk cold storage room that the science department didn't have access too. No need to relinquish the whole thing to the hellhole disguised as a research facility after all.

Then he brought the rest of it straight to the most senior technicians remaining in the labs. And that was how he'd ended up loitering in a doorway, pretending to write up his report to Tseng on his phs, while actually observing the way the newly headless science department operated.

He was rather enjoying his intimidation factor.

They'd been at it for three hours when a man in a lab coat burst through the door on the other side of the lab.

"What are you two doing in here," the man, in a horribly nasal tone, demanded at diligently working pair.

The taller of the two technicians, henceforth to be known as 'Nerd,' rolled his eyes and looked away. The other, shorter girl, henceforth named 'Geek' actually managed a halfway decent glare and a mocking "None of your business Chad."

"Says who?" the newly named Chad replied. "You're not in charge here, Four-Eyes over there isn't either, so what could you possibly be working on that I can't ask about, hmm?"

Nerd rolled his eyes even harder behind his admittedly distinctive glasses and closed the drawer to an instrument a little harder than probably necessary.

"Hey now!" Chad called, "no need to be so hard on the instruments! Do you know how much that thing costs? Do you even know how to use it?"

Nerd, clearly determined to ignore the shit out of Chad, mouthed ' do you even know how to use it' with a sneer under his breath. Reno, still in the doorway and still somehow unnoticed by Chad, smiled into his phs and continued typing gibberish.

Chad made an attempt at sauntering over to Nerd, but mostly ended up looking like he had a broken hip. Geek started frantically disinfecting everything Chad had put his ungloved fingers on as soon as she was behind his back.

"I never got an answer from you, Four-Eyes, what are you doing in here?"

"You got a perfectly reasonable answer. None of your business," the thin man said, punching in a few numbers on a screen and then snapping off his gloves.

"Well, that’s where I think you're wrong," Chad said. "Someone's going to have to take charge of this department eventually, and it's probably going to be me, so if I were you, I'd start acting like it or you might find yourself in…trouble."

As threats went, that one was pathetic. Reno nearly snorted. And then Nerd had the audacity to reply.

"Chad, you have all the administrative acumen of a particularly bug-eyed goldfish, and aren't qualified to use a toaster, much less run a lab containing the most advanced gene manipulating technology known to man. No one in their right mind would put you in charge, so feel free to leave any time."

Reno actually did snort. Rather loudly. Chad and Nerd turned to face him. Geek, in the background, had moved on to hiding their work material under things with lids and in far away corners. She was grinning maliciously.

"Oh, so that's what this is then," Chad sneered. "Sucking up to the Turks, doing their dirty work to make sure you aren't shuffled out the door when the re-hire comes around. Suck-ups, the both of you." He spat on the ground by Nerd's foot. "You should know, Turk, that this idiot's nearly been fired twice for incompetence, and that bitch over there can't follow orders to save her miserable life. You're better off asking anyone else in the department for help with your little project. These rejects will be gone within the month."

Nerd's face had gone white, and Geek's blotchy. Chad smirked at them and turned to leave, apparently done now that he'd revealed their 'dirty secrets.'

"Ya know, somehow, I don't think you're right, yo" Reno said, making a point to not look up from his phs. Chad 's footsteps stopped though, so the Turk continued on. "Contrary to your methods, I do my research before I approach this department. This nerd here's got the most technical certifications, and that geek's reprimands actually work in favor of her getting that promotion. So I'd watch your words, Chadwin Morowit, you're on thin ice."

The interloper's face turned an interesting shade of purple, and he nearly tripped out of the room.

Reno could nearly feel the original pair's eyes trying to dissect him. "I don't suppose you've got results for me now?"

"I'd really love to say yes, but… I've got nothing good."

"What've you got then?"

"Uh, like, nothing, actually. This sample, it's either too decayed or too contaminated, or both. It's definitely got some genetic material, but it's mostly in fragments. And those fragments are a mess. I've got some that look more like Zolom than human, and a few recognizable segments, except that I've got like, three copies of a one particular hemoglobin gene. One is human, one is some type of reptile, and one is common to rodents. And on top of that, there a ton of particulate in here. We managed to isolate most of it out, but there are some fibrous bits that keep interfering with the sensors, so…"

Reno, barely following the mess, tried to sum it up with a "so, basically, it's rotten and you can't get a comparison?"

"Basically. We'll keep at it, of course. Maybe we can try another couple fragments and see what they compare to, but right now, it's not looking good."

"Ugh." All that sitting on the roof. The humiliation of having a seven year old do his job for him. All for nothing. Tseng was going to frown at him. "Yeah, just keep me posted."

He turned to leave, but Geek raised her voice from the far side of the lab. "Hey. I don't suppose you can do anything more permanent about Chad before you go? He's… really not great."

Reno mulled it over for less time than he probably should have. "Well, I'll have to run it by my boss, but, I haven't gotten to kill anyone recently and I'm in the mood."

He hoped that whatever glass thing that Nerd dropped the on the floor wasn't particularly important, but hey last impressions were important too.

-- The Encounter

(Between Chapters 6 and 7, the recruitment pitch that Zack gives to Vincent)

--

Vincent woke up with a start, and nearly slammed his head into the roof of his coffin.

Someone had just knocked on the wall.

What the fuck?

There was the sound of a throat clearing and, as the recently awoken man tried to figure out what the heck it might mean, the other person in the room started talking. And things got really creepy, really fast.

"Greetings o-great lord of the night; I have traveled far in the service of my king to bring you tidings of the war upon the living. Will you hear what my esteemed leader has to say, good Lord?"

What the actual fuck. But the other man, and it seemed that the voice was male, didn't actually require a response to his question, he just paused for a second and then continued, as though scripted. There was an element of hesitation and not enough lunatic fervor. Something was very wrong.

"My king, the king of the dead, wishes your aid in this hour of need. His most noble of goals, to bring us, the children of the night, of death, of darkness, into the control of the world, has been threatened by the dogs of Shinra! They seek to oppress us, keep us under their greedy thumb.

"We, who are the underserved, the wasted, the ignored, imprisoned, impoverished of Midgar, have united. We bring into our fold any who wish to use half-death to come fully into the light! We will be seen, respected and feared! We have claimed the body of Shinra's greatest scientific disaster, Jenova, and will use it against them, for not even SOLDIER can stand in the way of Death!

Aaaaand nope. This wasn't going to end well. Nothing that started with 'science' and 'Jenova' was going to be good. He flexed his gauntleted hand, Chaos purring his preemptive approval in the back of his mind.

The other man's recruitment speech cut off abruptly when Vincent splintered the entire top of his coffin with a few well placed strikes, and with an angry growl, sat up through the mess of wooden shards to glare at the intruder. First impressions mattered after all.

"Who are you, intruder." It was not a question.

The man was tall, but not overly so, with spiky black hair and glowing white eyes. Contacts? It didn't explain the glow though, and if they were, the edges were fine enough that he couldn't see them at the current range. He bore the uniform reminiscent of an army grunt, but with different armaments than Vincent had last seen on men like that. A pistol on one hip, a sleek, miniature radio-type device on the other, and a series of items filling pouches along his belt. Combat boots, dark gloves, no helmet, but maybe that was standard nowadays.

He also was holding a letter.

"I, uh, I'm a messenger from the King of the Zombies, uh, my lord?"

Well. Clearly the man wasn't the brightest, and had been expecting something…less intimidating, probably. Vincent smoothly swung himself out of the coffin, cape fluttering dramatically behind him, hair settling nicely to frame his glowing red eyes. The other man took a half step back.

"Zombies." He said, again, demanding rather than questioning.

"Ye-s. The undead, who rise beneath Midgar, we, I mean, I've been sent to offer you a place in our order?"

"An order of zombies."

"Yes?"

"I’m not a zombie. And neither are you." The man seemed alive enough. Chaos certainly was convinced of his general status of 'living potential victim.'

"Uhhh, well no, but it's more of a symbolic thing, the zombies allying with a vampire and-"

"I’m not a vampire either."

"Oh! I know, but that's not the point! We're working to dismantle Shinra, and we were hoping that you would take an interest in our cause? Here," he thrust out the envelope, a heavy parchment affair. "The King put together some material for you."

Well. That might be a bit more coherent than the messenger anyway. He took the missive with his talons, making sure the other man got a good look at the weapon as he did so. The white eyed man looked suitably wary. Good.

The envelope held a similarly ornate sheaf of paper folded in three and stylized to look like an information brochure from a travel company. It lacked the usual pictures of travel brochures, but made up for it in ornate fonts and the occasional dramatic smear of blood. Or rather, fake blood. Vincent leaned close and sniffed at the parchment. Definitely fake. Hand written in elaborate but slightly unpracticed calligraphy.

"We, the zombies of Midgar, represent a group of individuals disenfranchised with the rulings of Shinra Electric Power Company and dedicated to the disruption of its primary functions and administrations. Our aims are thus: To sew fear and unrest within the ranks of the employees and administrator. To generate distrust between the peoples of the upper plate and the Shinra Company. To empower the poor and underserved of Midgar to mobilize against Shinra Company. To create a culture of unified civil disruption against Shinra Company and, to serve the Zombie King in his ultimate goals to topple Shinra Company's hold on the city of Midgar."

Well then. That was almost reasonable until it suddenly wasn't. The middle interior panel was a detailed sketch of a pile of bones with a skull set prominently at the top. There was a smear of bright red blood, too red to be believable, across the bottom half of the artwork, and a few flecks that had been artistically spattered across the upper part of the panel. There was a single sentence under the image that read, ominously: "Join us in our fight to free Midgar from the control of Shinra Company."

The right interior side read: "Our Methods: We work to achieve our goals through the conversion of under plate inhabitants into zombies-" which was as far as Vincent read before the alarm bells that had been going off in his head started screaming at him. He glanced at his messenger, who was fidgeting by his designated spot on the wall. He didn't look like a crazed scientist or a surprisingly sane product of a laboratory. He dropped his gaze back to the page. It immediately alighted on the word 'Jenova' part way down folded back left side.

"The material known as Jenova was first used in by Shinra in the production of their infamous SOLDIERS, but what Shinra does not acknowledge is the inherent flaws of their material. Jenova is an undead being more akin to a virus than a creature, and thus, individuals infected with 'her' cells are susceptible to both physical and mental influence from the source of their infection. We, the Zombie Council, have chosen to showcase this effect in the conversion of our zombie population, bringing to light the abysmal understanding that Shinra Company has of its own twisted science. What Shinra does not understand, we can and will use against them."

The back center panel, when he flipped the sheet over to continue reading, was titled "Other Impacts of Shinra upon Gaia" and there was a short list of bullet points under a blurb that read "Shinra scientists have made more errors than just their understanding of Jenova. They also vastly disregard the impact of their primary function, the use of mako to produce electricity. Mako is an essential substance for the balance of the planet's ecosystems. Drawing it from the ground has many side effects including: Slow decay of agricultural productivity in the area surrounding the draw site. Increased contamination of local monsters with unrefined mako leading to population booms. Contamination of local water sources allowing for mako poisoning in people. Decreased benevolent wildlife and livestock. Decreased fertility. Additionally, the Jenova virus spreads most easily when mako is used as a carrier. Any contamination events with mako could also potentially be Jenova contamination events."

Vincent closed the pamphlet. Well then.

"Why are you a part of this conspiracy?" he asked.

"Why? Uh, mostly because my girlfriend was really invested, but honestly, as soon as you see what they're doing, you just, kinda, get attached. It's pretty cool, actually."

Vincent paused, trying to assess the man again. He was young, foolhardy and not the sharpest knife in the kit, clearly. He'd joined a group that actively converted people and built its own culture by his girlfriend. He'd been sent out on a recruitment mission on his own despite clearly not knowing what he was supposed to be doing, and being, probably, still relatively new to the group.

"You are aware that this is a cult, aren't you?"

"I- what?"

"This," he tilted the damning paper at the other man, "has all the makings of a cult. Do you even know what you joined?"

"It's not a cult!" the other man said, sounding confused and offended. And damn, he'd forgotten to get an actual name off of him, Vincent realized. "We're not your average group or club, or whatever, I'll give you that, but we're not a cult!"

The red eyed man raised a single delicate eyebrow, flipped open the first third of the paper and read "Our aims are thus: … To generate distrust between people... To create a culture of unified civil disruption … and to serve the Zombie King." It might be hidden between flowery platitudes, those Vincent was great at ignoring platitudes and drawing out motives. "What does that sound like to you?"

"Uhh…"

Vincent searched out the other most damning sentences he'd seen. "We work to achieve our goals through the conversion of under plate inhabitants. Join us in our fight to free Midgar from the control of Shinra Company." It also mentions mental influence, which might or might not be mind control, though he wasn't sure what to think of that. A leader wouldn't need to create a cult, if he could just mind control people instead.

"Have you read this?" he asked.

"No?" the white eyed man replied, reaching out. Vincent handed the pamphlet back to him. It took only a few moments of reading for the man's brow to furrow. "I mean, I see kind of where you're coming from, but I don't think it's a cult."

"No one who is in a cult ever believes that they're in a cult."

"Really?"

Vincent gave him a particularly dead stare. "Do you truly understand your leader's motives and goals? Do you know where your 'king' gets his information? Does he share information freely? Can you trust his source? Or are you required to simply believe that he is right, and obey."

He gave the other man time to think, since he obviously needed it, and instead looked around the room. It must have been a while since he'd gone to sleep. Two of the other coffins in the room were broken, half rotted away, and there was a thick layer of dust on everything else. There was rust on the hinges of the door, and the stone walls had slick trails of calcium deposits from long-term water damage. He wondered what had changed in the rest of the world. Certainly nothing good, if there was a cult controlling a hoard of zombies in a rebellion against Shinra.

"I still don't think it's a cult. We have a council and everything." The other man said, but he looked more confused than stubborn now. "We're, uh, kinda social equality and environmentally friendly terrorists?"

"Then there is nothing I can do to force you to change your mind. But if you ever need help getting out, I will try to be of assistance." He went for the door. It didn't matter if he hated Shinra, he wasn't about to let zombies infect the world. "Perhaps keep in mind that cults can have councils, and terrorists can be in cults. And someone converted you with little enough explanation, and sent you here to convert me in turn."

"Wait-" the other man called. "Does that mean you're not going to join us?"

Vincent gave him another dead stare and left the room. He had a few years to catch up on and some people to warn.

--

Chapter Text

-- 

(Post Chapter 3, rumors floating around the upper plate, followed immediately with two related sections Post Chapter 7)

--

Izzy was a perfectly reasonable, respectable, and rational resident of Midgar's upper plate. At least, that's what she liked to think. She was certainly more rational than half of her friends, which she prided herself on, and she often played shepherd to their flock of sheep. Not that she thought of her friends as sheep, really. They were just… prone to wandering and believing various rumors and theories that spread out of the news sources or from those shady under-plate heathens who occasionally ventured into the light. It was up to her, most of the time, to make sure that they stayed the bounds of respectable society women.

Occasionally, they called her a snob, but so what.

Izzy, straight backed and hair perfectly coifed, as usual, knew she was right. But for whatever reason, her friends had gone completely round the twist and were spouting out rumors even more ridiculous than usual.

Zombies? For shame.

Jyla was the one who said it first, but then, she was always the one with the longest ears and the loosest lips, so that was expected. She had come by on four days previously, with Catlee on her heals, to tell her a story about a dead baker who had been spotted wandering the alleyways behind one of the nicer restaurant districts.

Apparently, he was a somewhat shady man who had died a day earlier, gone to the morgue, and then simply disappeared overnight. The mortician had been beside himself!

But then, horror of all horrors, he had been spotted walking! He was wearing the pastry chef's garb that he was to be buried in, and covered in all manner of disgusting bodily fluids, Jyla said.

Obviously, Jyla's 'friend' who had seen him, hadn't stuck around. But there were stories about a fire in a shop nearby, only a few hours later, and that someone said they'd been attacked by a dead man. Frankly, Izzy thought that it was obviously a lie, someone had made up the sighting to make the fire seem more interesting, but Jyla loved a good conspiracy theory.

And that was supposed to have been the end of it, but then, three days ago, Lucy had come to her with another zombie story.

The way Lucy says it happened is that an under-plater, high on some new "zombie" drug, broke into the funeral home and stole one of the bodies there. But since he was crazy, he not only stole the poor man's clothes, but also ate a bit of him, and consequently went insane and attacked people in the shop. And Izzy would have thought that a fine explanation, except that Lucy followed it up with "and he managed to bite two other people, before they escaped, and now they've gone crazy and have bitten people themselves! It's like they really are zombies!"

Still more plausible than Jyla, though it didn't stop her from giving Lucy a withering look.

And that also should have been the end of it, but two days ago, in the morning, Cassie had come by to tell her that a rogue science experiment from Shinra had unleashed a zombie virus on the population, starting with the poor man from the pastry shop. And not three hours after that, Noreen called her to say that she'd heard from two other people, that there was a new plague under the plate, and that they were sitting right above a literal cesspool of undead slum-dwellers.

Really, Noreen should have known better. Izzy had told her not to trust those slum contacts of hers months ago!

But the rumors seemed to have reached more than just her, by that point. She could see the unease in people when she went out in the evenings with her husband. There was a story, in one of the gossip rags, about the possible plague, and she could see groups huddled on street corners, peering at the pages. She turned her nose up at them.

Yesterday, her very own husband had come to her with an article in hand. She'd indulged him, as was polite, but it had made her irritable, and she'd snapped at Cassie had stopped by for tea, later that day. What was worse, though, was that it was a reputable newspaper that her dear husband had brought her. And now, she looked a fool for dismissing their stories out of hand for so long!

It had taken an extra cup of coffee to get her out of bed earlier, but she had though hard about the situation overnight and decided that she still needed to be the backbone of reason with her friends, so she needed to take stock of all the information and permit only the truth. And after that, she needed to remind everyone that as long as they stayed away from the dead or crazy people, they would be fine.

Jyla was doomed.

With that in mind, she had gone to the news kiosk, picked up some papers and turned her television to the local news station to get a feel for what the rest of the plate was thinking. And when she had finished slogging through the circulating rumors, she picked up her phs and placed a call.

"Cissnei, dear, how are you? It's been too long!" she said, smiling. It was always good to smile when talking over the phone, it made you sound nicer on the other end, she knew.

"Izzy. How good to hear from you. What can I do for you?"

"Can't I just call to catch up with a friend?" she asked, knowing full well that it wasn't how their association worked.

"You could, but you don't."

"Smalltalk has never been one of your strengths," Izzy tried to commiserate. The woman on the other side of the call simply hummed a noncommittal response. Interesting, though perhaps not surprising. Cissnei always had a bit of bite to her. "Anyway, dear, I was wondering if you'd heard about this zombie nonsense going on below the plate?"

Cissnei snorted. "Who hasn't heard? And it's not quite below the plate anymore is it."

"Well, that depends on whether the rumors have any merit to them in the first place."

"I guess it would. But I can tell you that my employers are taking it quite seriously."

"Really now, I find that surprising. Do you happen to know which rumor it is that they're concerned with?"

"Oh Izzy, dear, subtle prompting has never been one of your strengths," the other woman laughed. Was that a condescending tone? Izzy couldn't tell. "Perhaps you should tell me what rumors you've heard first."

"All of them, of course," she smiled sharply into the phone. "Drugs, lab experiments, viruses, apocalypse, various predictions of doom all around, wouldn't you say?"

"Every story has a grain of truth. Convenient when they all have the same grains, however. It makes you wonder what that might mean."

"Are there actually zombies under the plate, Cissnei?"

"With so many stories saying so, I would find myself hard pressed to deny it, wouldn't I," her contact replied, sounding too sweet. But then, that was always the way these conversations went. One simply wasn't meant to get direct information from certain people.

The doorbell to her house rang, and Izzy lowered the phone and frowned for a moment. Was she expecting someone? She checked the clock. Nearly tea time. Probably Jyla. She and Cassie were the most common tea partners she had, and Cassie would probably stay away for a few more days. She had hurt her pride recently after all.

She put the phs back to her ear and Cissnei said "unexpectedly popular today, are you?"

"Visitors are never unexpected when one is popular, dear." She smoothed down her outfit with one hand, and went over to the door, still on the phone. Jyla would understand. "I suppose the rumors of the baker a few days ago are true as well then," she said, unbolting the door. "Is there any way I could convince you to tell me how I might avoid a confrontation with these undead? Areas to keep away from perhaps?"

Cassie stood on the other side of the door, eyes determined and hands bunched in the front of her day-gown. She seemed unsurprised by Izzy's raised eyebrow. Nevertheless, she lifted her skirts to enter the house when Izzy stepped back.

That was when everything went to hell.

Cissnei was saying something, but later, Izzy would have no idea what it was. There was movement from the corner of her eye, and then, before she could even process it, there was a man on her front steps. He was gruff, crazed looking, and he caught Cassie completely off guard, jerking her backwards, away from the door, into one of Izzy's perfectly pruned shrubs.

Cassie screamed. There was a spray of blood.

From the phs at her feet, a tinny voice was yelling, but Izzy couldn't make out words.

Brown denim covered legs were matted with black blood and dirt, pulling a pair of torsos out of the tangle of shrubbery. People on the street were fleeing from sight.

Too late, she came alive, and whipped around to find something to hold. A large umbrella stand, with four umbrellas came off the floor, and belatedly, she realized she was screaming.

With every ounce of strength she had, Izzy threw the umbrella stand at the zombie that was dragging her friend away. It collided with his shoulder, and for a moment, he staggered away from Cassie, roaring.

Cissnei was still yelling from the phs in the doorway.

The last time she saw Cassie alive, there was blood all down her front, seeping through a tear in the bodice of her dress. She screamed, like the people in the street, like Izzy, and the zombie stumbled back and fell upon her once more.

The zombie man turned around and roared at her, and Izzy had never before been so scared. It grabbed Cassie by the waist and bolted down the deserted street. Cassie's screams cut off, and Izzy slid down the doorway.

The phs was still making noises at her.

Her face was wet.

--

Cassie stepped back through the threshold of her house several weeks later. Far too long, in her opinion. Not that she hadn't known that she'd be away for a while, but, as they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder. She had missed this place.

Not that she had lived poorly while she was gone. No, she'd finally been able to stay with her beloved Toran, as he'd been asking her to for many months now. She'd seen a bit of how people lived when they weren't beholden to the societal pressures of the circles she usually ran in. It had been brilliant, illuminating, mystifying, and so, so wonderful. Her house seemed so flat, in comparison. She knew it would. But she also reveled in the familiarity and the potential. This was a flat house in a flat life that she had lived, but those were things she could change. Everywhere she looked there was something she would change. And things would be better.

The best part was that no one, not even Izzy, had looked down upon Toran when he came back to her house. They had questioned her, certainly, but she had put her foot down. "We experienced something together. We died together, we lived together, that's not the kind of connection I can explain to someone who didn't go through it. Not you, not any other man I might find." It had shut them all up very quickly.

Total bullshit, but hey, it worked. She could keep the love of her life in her life, finally.

Izzy, her husband Myro, Jyla, Lucy, her husband Dusk, Noreen and Dunia all followed behind Toran as he followed her through the house. There was a good layer of dust on things, the refrigerator would have to be regarded with caution, all the bedding aired, and the less said about the small yard, the better.

Eventually they all settled in the sitting room. Smalltalk abounded.

Beside her on the loveseat, Toran seemed a bit lost.

"What are you thinking, darling," she asked him quietly.

"That I never thought I'd see this day. And now that it's here, I don't know what to do."

She smiled at him. "You don't have to know right now. But I hope you're willing to figure it out eventually with me?"

He smiled down at her and raised their clasped hands to kiss the back of hers. Across the room, Lucy cooed at them.

"Oh! That reminds me!" Dunia exclaimed, leaning forward. "Have you heard? The Avenue Theater Group is starting a new production! Annabess told me only yesterday! It's about our Great Queen!"

Jyla gasped. "Really? Already? Did they say what kind of play it would be?"

"A romance," Dunia said with a suggestive wiggle of eyebrows.

"Oh! How wonderful! There hasn't been a good romance in theaters since that rework of Loveless last year!"

"That wasn't a romance, it was a tragedy!"

"It absolutely was a romance, Noreen, tell her!"

"It was a tragedy."

"Traitor!"

"Well, I want to know who the romantic interest is going to be," Cassie interrupted. "The Zombie King or that SOLDIER she's supposedly dating? Or someone else perhaps? Sephiroth is always a good choice."

Doreen put a hand on her forehead and swooned. "Sephiroth! Please let it be Sephiroth!"

"No! Absolutely not! He didn't have much to do with the zombies at all! It'd be much more romantic if it was the King, wouldn't it?"

"But I heard she was seeing that handsome SOLDIER with the enormous sword?"

"Psh, rumors. And who cares who she's actually dating. It's a story!"

And then, of all people, Toran leaned forward to butt in. "I think Lucy's right, think of the drama it would have if the romantic interest was King. Star crossed lovers, right out of a story book, they are."

"Mmm," Myro agreed. "The zombie King represents pollution, corruption, death, and the Queen represents life, purity, and nature. It would be a merger of civilization and our natural roots, or a statement piece about earning forgiveness from the planet we exploit. The visual effects would be stunning."

"Finding compromise between nature and humanity," Noreen agreed. "That's a beautiful theme for a play."

"And that SOLDIER fellow could be a point of tension. Will she, life, choose to be with one who she knew when he was living, or try to redeem the leader of the dead," Toran followed.

"The symbolism would be remarkable," Izzy said, sipping her tea. "And it's such a remarkable tale already, the Avenue Theater Group wouldn't have to do much to make it stage ready."

There were nods all around the circle, even from Dunia, though she seemed the most reluctant.

"Does anyone know what the King is doing now anyway?"

There were a few shrugs, mostly from the men. Jyla set her tea down with a glitter in her eye. "I heard that he's been hanging around the Queen's church. He hasn't left her alone very much, and they were seen talking many times last week."

That much was very true, Cassie knew. The pair did talk a lot, she heard. But the zombie collective was very good at gossip networking, almost as good as Izzy, so she knew that most of their talks seemed to be the Queen trying to talk down the King from one hare-brained scheme or another, not romantic leanings.

Honestly, she wasn't sure she even wanted to know what the King was planning anymore. His mind was a maze to her. Just the idea of making a fake zombie plague was so far beyond anything she could have dreamt of. Whatever he thought might come next was definitely not something she, a mere mortal, could hope to predict.

"Well I heard," Izzy said, catching the attention of everyone, instantly, "that the King was working on a project with Shinra." She waited for the appropriate gasps and murmurs, and then 'graciously' gave them all the rest of her information. "A very reliable source of mine said that he was seen coming and going from the administration levels, administrative research and the science departments multiple times last week. And that at one point, he had some makeup done, and looked like a full zombie again."

"Oh goodness!" Jyla murmured. "Do you know what for?"

"Well, I couldn't get a straight answer, but I have a hunch that it was for a video recording."

Oh, well that was interesting indeed!

"Were the Queen or any other former zombies seen, Izzy?"

"Not that I know of, but I didn't ask, really."

"Definitely something to watch out for then."

--

There was static on the screen, and the sound cut in and out accordingly. President Shinra tapped his foot nervously, and noted Scarlet's clawed hand digging crescents into the varnish of his mahogany chair. In the video, a news anchor suddenly came into focus, and the quality stabilized. "This is Andreasen Cooner," the anchor introduced herself, though President Shinra would have recognized the white-blonde hair and sharp features anywhere. Such a pity she was gay. He briefly wondered why Reeve, of all people would send a video of the morning news, but then the camera angle changed and the blood drained out of his face.

"We're here, live, with the new Zombie King of Midgar. As many of our viewers know, the remainder of Shinra's infantry was defeated yesterday evening by the army of the undead, and overnight many of the city's infrastructure was, uh, impacted. Shinra's remaining administration ceded defeat last night in mass phs notification. Our new King stopped by this morning, and here we are. Lovely to be here with you today, Mister Zombie King, the young woman was saying, nervously." She was keeping her back away from him, and putting more distance between them than was usual for news interviews.

The zombie, white eyed and with hair streaked with dried blood, growled menacingly at her, and she flinched another few inches back.

"Mister King, or uh, my Lord? Do you mind if I ask a few questions?"

The zombie stared at her, eyes narrowing. He looked far more intelligent in this video than he had ever looked through the Turk's security cameras.

When the zombie didn't respond, the reporter seemed to take it as permission to go ahead. "Now that you've won Midgar, what is the next move for the zombie hoard?"

The zombie seemed to breathe out in a contemplative manner, tilting his head and looking up and to the left.

"Do you intend to spread to other cities?"

The undead man smirked and stared directly into her eyes. She inched backwards minutely.

"What was done with the previous leaders of Midgar?"

There was an abortive gesture of licking of the lips. President Shinra shuddered.

"Does that mean we will be seeing them as a part of your horde?"

A malicious grin full of teeth and stained with black blood. The news anchor was visibly shaking now.

"Do you have any further plans to impact the infrastructure of Midgar," she managed to stutter out.

The Zombie once again gave a noncommittal and somewhat contemplative look.

"One last question then, since I’m sure you have other, more important things to do, my King- as the leader of the zombies, what do you plan to do with the living population of Midgar?"

A demonic smile grew out of the undead man's face, and before the blood had even begun draining out of the anchor's face, the beast had launched itself across the meager distance. The woman shrieked, and the camera angle changed abruptly as the tripod was knocked over. A stampede of feet, accompanied by yelling, rolled through the frame as the news crews fled for their lives. Slowly, a pool of blood began spreading into view. Then the static returned.

Behind him, Palmer quietly whispered "what the fuck."

"Did Reeve send anything else," Scarlet said quietly. Her voice shook.

Shinra closed the video file and opened his phs mail account again. The first notification had been the video, but the second line was also a message from Reeve. He opened it.

Mister President. I have bad news, and worse news. The zombies have taken the upper plate. We managed to hold them out of the tower for a while, but they got in two days ago, after they took out the remains of the infantry. I'm barricaded in my office, but I don't expect to last much longer. It took me a while find your contact information. I'm afraid I might be too late.

I can't find Tseng. He left three days ago to try to put an end to things, and I haven't heard from him since. Veld and I made the joint decision to see if the zombie leader could be reasoned with and surrendered the city to him after he took the tower, but it hasn't gone so well. I'll send a video separately so you can see for yourself. I don't know what happened to Veld. I also don't know what happened to Sephiroth. He disappeared shortly after Tseng.

The zombies, they're smart. Much smarter than we gave them credit for. They've been systematically taking out the reactors, and denying utilities to living strongholds. That's the bad news. The worse news is that the zombie leader hasn't been seen in at least twenty four hours. He might be coming for you. You need to stay alert. I've sent alerts to leadership and military units in the other main cities, but there's nothing more I can do.

I’m sorry we failed. I’m sorry I didn't flee with you.

Good luck.

I'll see you in the Promised Land.

-Reeve Tuesti

"Fuck. Fuck," Palmer breathed, stumbling backwards when he finished reading. "How could he find where we are?"

"I don't know. We don't even know if he did. Only that he's missing," Scarlet said. "Did he send any other information?"

Shinra switched back to the list of phs messages. There was nothing else unread. "Shit."

"So we've lost Midgar. We knew that might happen. That's why we left right?" Scarlet said.

Palmer nodded, and Heidegger, who had been quietly hiding in the corner, did the same. "It's something else entirely to know that it actually happened," the man muttered.

"Yes. It is," the former president agreed.

"We have enough provisions to sustain us for a long time, though, don't we?" Palmer asked.

"Yes," Scarlet confirmed. "Years. As long as that creature doesn't find us."

And as if on cue, there was a low growl outside the door.

--