Chapter Text
“This way, please.”
The young woman in a stiff black suit shoved the end of her shotgun into the man’s back. He staggered forward, his feet clanging on the metal floor of the cargo ship. What humiliation for the self-proclaimed King of Club Duel.
The Turk had burst into his club and boldly challenged him, and he’d been foolish enough to underestimate her.
“This is a suitable place for a former King.” The Turk used her shotgun to shove the man into a large metal cage. “There are some really brutal types in here,” she sneered as she slammed the door shut. “For your own sake, don’t touch the walls. And don’t try anything stupid.”
Ignoring the woman’s instructions, the King of Club Duel reached for the door handle. A jolt of electricity surged up his arm, and he yanked his hand back with a yelp. “What’s the deal with this electric cage!?”
“We’ll soon reach Midgar,” the Turk explained. “There you’ll get to take a mako bath and become members of SOLDIER!”
SOLDIER. The word sent a chill down his spine.
It had been twenty-five years since the birth of the SOLDIER program. For decades, the program’s strict training regimen made the group the pride of the Shinra Public Security division. But the Wutai War stripped away that lie and crushed Shinra’s bravado. The Wusheng matched Shinra’s prowess, often surpassing it.
Then he appeared.
A boy no older than thirteen, who defeated entire armies armed only with a katana: Sephiroth, the first of three “active-model” SOLDIERs who ushered in a new era of Shinra’s military might. Enlistment surged as young men and women leapt at the chance to become like the hero, to be bathed in mako an injected with a proprietary serum.
But SOLDIERs who survived the war often lost themselves. “Degradation” was a mysterious sickness that stripped its victims of their minds, leaving ambulatory husks behind. Some were sent to a medical facility called “Deepground” for care and rehabilitation. They never returned.
The King of Club Duel gulped. Surely that was the fate that now awaited him.
A low, throaty laugh echoed from a dark corner of the cage, a sound that signaled that perhaps death would arrive for the King before he’d ever set foot in a mako bath. A brutish man grinned at the King, his piercing blue eyes silently challenging him. The King wasn’t one to back down from a fight, but every instinct told him a fight with this man was one he was destined to lose.
But the brute was not deterred—it didn’t need the King’s consent to initiate combat. He stepped over a heap of fabric on the floor—which, the King realized with a jolt, was a crumpled corpse—and trudged to stand before the trembling man.
The King shook his head, frantically looking around the cage for any way out. “Stop it!”
There was no stopping the brute. With a single blow from his mighty fist, he sent the King of Club Duel flying into the electrified wall.
Azul inhaled deeply, relishing the acrid stench of sizzling flesh.
“So you’re the one behind this!”
Azul turned to face the young woman who had delivered his latest prey. He rushed forward, adrenaline coursing through his veins, and threw a punch at her head.
She nimbly avoided the blow. “Hey! What are you doing? That’s so rude!”
“Fight me!” Azul bellowed, beating his chest.
“Pretty bloodthirsty, aren’t you?” The woman readied her shotgun. “But that’s not enough to scare me!”
Azul laughed heartily. “Only in the heat of battle do I feel alive.”
“I’m not interested in your way of thinking. Just don’t cause any more trouble.” The woman raised her shotgun and aimed it at Azul’s head.
He barked out a laugh; she was foolish to hide behind a weapon he could easily twist into a pretzel. “You presume to order me around? Only those strong enough to best me in combat are worthy of listening to. If you want me to listen, then prove your strength.”
Azul expected the skinny young human to back down. Instead, her eyes glistened, revealing a warrior’s spirit. “Okay, I’m game! This ought to make you quiet down.” She cocked her weapon.
Azul roared with laughter, then he shot the Turk a vicious grin. “My name is Azul.” He beckoned for her to ready herself. “Come. Let us fight to the death.”
Azul’s strength was such that should he manage to catch the young woman, he’d snap her spine with a squeeze of his fist. But the Turk was fast, nimbly dodging out of the way and responding to every swipe of Azul’s arm with a powerful shotgun blast.
One bullet embedded itself in Azul’s bicep; he plucked it out and tossed it idly aside. “This has been entertaining,” Azul chuckled, “but must now end. It is my way to always give it my all in battle.”
“What a coincidence,” the Turk quipped. “It’s the same with me. Let’s get it on!”
Azul laughed. He’d been studying her movements; his next move would end the fight for good. He drew back his arm-
“Move!”
The Turk leapt out of the way as a bald man in a matching black suit rushed into the cell. With one quick thrust, he punched Azul in the gut, sending him stumbling into the electrified wall.
“You again,” Azul groaned. The bald man had been the one who captured him; he fought without honor.
“Keep quiet now.” The bald Turk coolly pushed his sunglasses up his nose.
Azul strained to push himself upright, but the electricity had drained him of his energy. He slumped weakly on the ground, panting heavily.
“Amazing! Nothing less from Rude.” The woman Turk skipped jovially out of the cell, and Rude locked the door behind her. She turned and gave Azul a cheeky wave. “Azul! You got away this time. We’ll settle this later.”
“That impudent…” Azul grumbled. Rage boiled beneath the pain; the fight had been stolen from him. It wasn’t over yet. “I have to become even stronger…”
As Azul sat in the corner, nursing his fried limbs back to health, the Turks dropped off fresh meat. Many of the men protested as the woman with the shotgun threw them into the cell, claiming they were the strongest and fiercest of their clans.
Every one cowered in fear at the mere sight of Azul. Though his body had healed and his strength had returned, he paid no mind to the arrogant fools. They were not worth his time. Perhaps, he mused, they would ease his eventual boredom, but he yearned to face a worthy opponent.
A new challenger approached: a young man in a beige uniform who introduced himself as Sears from AVALANCHE. But Sears was no warrior; he informed the prisoners that he was there to free them—and implore they join AVALANCHE’s fight against Shinra. “Everyone who wants to remain human should take this chance to escape. Let’s fight Shinra together!”
The rest of the cowards fled with Sears. But Azul remained, waiting calmly until the ruckus on the top decks subsided. When the last of the gunfire and shouting faded into silence, only then did he rise and stroll into Costa del Sol.
Mission failed.
The Turk scratched her head and let out a defeated sigh as she surveyed the carnage aboard the Shinra cargo ship. AVALANCHE had freed every prisoner; only corpses remained. The rogue SOLDIER Genesis, codename “G”, had practically halved the ranks of SOLDIER by convincing his peers to join him in deserting the company. President Shinra had ordered the Turks to backfill the ranks—by force if necessary.
It had taken her and Rude months to gather intel, scout potential candidates, and gather them to deliver to Professor Hojo for enhancement. And now it appeared they would return empty-handed.
She spotted a lumbering figure strolling on the beach, and her heart soared at the sight. Perhaps it’s not over yet. She hurried across the cobblestone to face him.
“Azul.”
To her surprise, Azul smiled at her, baring fang-like teeth. “I heard rumors about SOLDIER in town. It has caught my interest. Growing stronger by throwing oneself into the heat of battle. That is exactly the kind of life I want.”
The Turk laughed; this was easier than she’d thought. “Then just get back on the ship.”
Azul chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming hungrily. “There is something which must be done before that.” He crouched in an offensive stance, fingers twitching in anticipation. “Let us finish what we started.”
“Of course,” the Turk grinned eagerly. “I accept your challenge. I’ve been wanting to settle things as well.”
Azul had clearly studied her tactics in the enclosed, electrified arena. But a different environment meant different tactics; she used her agility to her advantage, swapping out different types of bullets to exploit Azul’s weak points. He swiped blindly, clearly enraged but running out of stamina to support it.
“Ugh…” Azul dropped to one knee, chest heaving. His voice rose, raw and guttural. “I want to grow stronger! Stronger!” His roar crescendoed, and he banged his fists into the cobblestone. “Stronger! STRONGER! I will join SOLDIER and become the strongest!”