Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Soul wrought of terra corrupt,

Quelling impurity,

Purging the stream

To beckon forth an ultimate fate.

Behold mighty Chaos,

Omega’s squire to the lofty heavens.

According to the research team under Dr. Grimoire Valentine, the passage etched onto the tablet was written by the nomadic Cetra race over two thousand years ago. That the thin carvings in the stone face had lasted for such a time was practically a miracle. 

Dr. Valentine clicked on the lamp in the corner of his room, basking his desk in warm yellow light against the dusky blues of nightfall in Nibelheim. The wooden chair creaked as he settled back into his seat and flipped open his research documents. He set aside the faded photographs of the stone tablet and carefully unclipped the typed translation of the arcane Cetra glyphs. 

The tablet was the only known mention of “Chaos” and “Omega”. It was clear from the first section of the text that the two terms only gained relevance in times of dire peril. But who were they? What were they? Grimoire jotted a note in his report. Could “Omega” be a place and “Chaos” a person? 

His colleagues certainly believed so; many of them were convinced that “Omega” referred to the fabled “promised land” of Cetra scripture:

We who are born of the planet, with her we speak. 

Her flesh we shape.

Unto her promised land shall we one day return. 

By her loving grace and providence may we take our place in paradise.

Grimoire read the tablet’s poem again; a symbolic tie between “Omega” and “terra corrupt” could support such a theory. However, Grimoire still had his doubts. If Omega were an actual location, then how could Chaos be its “squire to the lofty heavens”?

Unfortunately, while the search of the site had continued, Dr. Valentine’s team had been unable to locate any new artifacts to help them answer their many questions. His team was not the only group scouring the north pole for ancient artifacts, of course; sites were often picked clean by the time his team discovered them. Professors Hojo, Hollander, and Gast oft returned to Shinra with treasure troves of knowledge—and dozens of casualties. The mountains were not keen to give up their secrets easily.

But the company cared not how many people it had to replace; the best and brightest in the industry were eager to support Shinra’s forays into the far reaches of the planet, eager to test the boundaries of science with the knowledge unearthed from ancient strata. And the treachery of the peaks meant a revolving door of talent.

Dr. Valentine, by contrast, was both blessed and cursed with a protective instinct for the students under his tutelage; nary did he send his team into the wilderness unprepared. And research into “soul wrought of terra corrupt” didn’t result in any practical advancements. His team and their research faded into obscurity.

So it was a pleasant surprise when the administrative department sent Dr. Valentine a memo stating that his request for a new assistant had been approved. Rumor had it the woman chosen for the role had graduated at the top of her university class. Why she’d chosen Dr. Valentine’s team over the flashier projects, Grimoire didn’t know. But he didn’t complain. 

Sleep tugged at Grimoire’s eyelids; once again, he’d stayed up far too late. And once again, his scrawled notes only led him in circles. He accepted defeat for the evening and shut his notebook with a heavy sigh.

He glanced over at the calendar: one more month. 

Perhaps she’ll be the key to breaking me out of this funk.

Once again, Lucrecia Crescent had proven her peers wrong.

Work on Dr. Valentine’s team, they had told her, was career suicide. All the good jobs were in the city of Midgar, in the brand-new headquarters erected in Sector 0. Nibelheim was a historic site—the first mako reactor was constructed there. It was a place for doddering old fools peering at dusty books through half-moon spectacles, not young and ambitious scientists like her.

But the choice to join Dr. Valentine’s team proved to be the best decision she could have made. Grimoire had a sharp mind, a kind heart, and decades of experience that he was more than willing to share with Lucrecia. The two made for a good pair, with Grimoire’s calm demeanor tempering Lucrecia’s wayward ambition and Lucrecia’s eager hypothesizing inspiring new approaches to Grimoire’s work.

The crux of their research was an ancient stone tablet: the only known mention of two beings known as “Chaos” and “Omega”.

“Review of several dated reports on our world’s Lifestream have shed new light on my theories about the Cetra inscription,” Grimoire explained. “Just as we are born from the flowing matter below our feet, I now believe that Chaos and Omega may also be sentient life forms that the planet creates at its own will.”

“If we were able to discover the exact location where these two beings are to be born,” Lucrecia responded eagerly, “the scientific repercussions would be enormous!”

Yes, Lucrecia was about to prove them all wrong. While they scrambled to prove themselves in the “sink or swim” culture of Midgar, Lucrecia was on the brink of a revolutionary scientific discovery—less than a year out of school, at that. 

[ μ ] – εγλ July 7, 1977.

When Grimoire read the announcement from Professor Gast, he knew in his soul that the date would forever live in infamy at the Shinra Electric Power Company. For in the depths of the Northern Cave, the professor had discovered life. 

The specimen, found in strata dating back two thousand years, smiled with what could only be described as “ethereal grace.” Though the truth eluded me at first, I later determined that she was an Ancient—or a “steward of the planet,” as they are referred to in legend. She needed a name… and so I dubbed her “Jenova.”

Grimoire furrowed his brow as he re-read Gast’s report. The confirmation that this “Jenova” was indeed of Cetra lineage was the result of rigorous peer review—but there was not a single piece of quantifiable data listed in the report to back up those claims. Beyond that, the metrics that were mentioned (but not included) were identical between Jenova and known Cetra biological data. No variance at all…

As if it was exactly what the scientists wanted to see. 

A fellow paleontologist informed him that in the wake of this discovery, a new large-scale research project was scheduled to begin—and that Lucrecia had been offered a place on the team. If she planned to accept the offer, she didn’t show it; Lucrecia worked just as eagerly and diligently on researching Omega and Chaos as always.

One crisp fall morning, Grimoire invited Lucrecia to join him on a walk around the grasslands at the base of Mt. Nibel. The nip of cold in the air was little more than a nuisance to the two humans bundled in jackets and thick socks, but the grasses and bushes had withered and dried into scraggly brown husks. Leaves crunched underfoot as they walked, spooking deer and other small animals and allowing Grimoire and Lucrecia to stroll undisturbed.

“The more I learn of this wondrous planet’s inner workings, the more I am in awe of that which lies before me,” Grimoire sighed. 

“Omega?” 

Grimoire laughed; it was always a challenge to tear his assistant’s mind from her work. Not even physical separation from her desk could break its hold on her attention. “Omega is part of a system created by our world to preserve the constant circulation of life. And therein lies the key to solving this mystery.” He stopped and turned his gaze to the sky. The sun was blocked by a sea of gray clouds. “For many years it has been documented that local legends not only speak of this phenomenon in terms of a planetary scale, but also suggest that the entire cosmos may follow the same rules.”

The two launched into a lengthy discussion about the structure of the cosmos and the Lifestream’s reflection of that design. The sun had set by the time they made their way back to the manor. Lamplight illuminated their path, and Grimoire could spot the glimmering light of the evening star peeking through gaps in the clouds. 

Lucrecia excused herself and made her way to her room, and Grimoire turned and headed to his study. He flicked on the lamp by his desk and flipped his journal to a blank page. He tapped his pen idly on a spare page to get the ink flowing, then scribbled a note summarizing the day’s musings.

I must say, I am quite pleased with the work of my fine assistant, he concluded. Her ardent approach to the tasks before her will most certainly lead us to the many answers which continue to elude our team.

Omega and Chaos

Lucrecia typed furiously, her hands flying over the keyboard as they fought to keep pace with her stream of consciousness.

The two names which appear on the tablet… If Omega is to act as the ark which guides all life to the boundless sea of stars… then what of Chaos?

The ancient inscription implies that his duty is to “beckon forth an ultimate fate.” Perhaps it is he who is destined to lead us to Omega.

She paused and checked the clock, then cursed her own impatience. But the thought of returning to her other project, of working alongside him… Her heart fluttered. She had yet to formally accept her place on the project, but Professor Hojo could be incredibly persuasive. The stated objective of the project was simply to reduce the cost of mako excavation, but the professor’s ideas were so grand, and he spoke of them with such fervor, that Lucrecia’s heart skipped a beat whenever she listened to him. 

The power of the Ancients, brought to life once again after 2,000 years of dormancy.

But Professor Hojo was also—to put it lightly—a massive dick. He clearly held little regard for Dr. Valentine’s research into Omega and Chaos, and made no secret of his disdain. 

Soul wrought of terra corrupt... What message lurks behind these ominous words?

She would show him. Once she and Dr. Valentine discovered the location of Chaos’s awakening, Professor Hojo would have no reason to laugh. He’d see the value of her work… and by extension, of her.

“Is this the place you spoke of?”

Lucrecia hurried deeper into the cave. The sound of her heels clacking against the stone echoed through the cavern. Despite the uneven terrain, she didn’t once lose her step; she paused in the center of the clearing, turning in a slow circle to take in the environment. Crystals glowed on the walls—they emitted no light of their own, but rather refracted light from glistening green pools of mako. 

“Yes.” Dr. Valentine strode into the cave after her, his eyes glistening as they reflected the crystals’ light. “Deep within this grotto is where Chaos is destined to awake.”

Lucrecia opened her eyes wide, basking in the glow of the cave. In spite of the ominous tone of the Cetra poem, the location was serene. Lucrecia could imagine herself cocooned in a place like this, letting life drift by outside while she rested in this place of respite.

She needed that respite; Project 0, the first goal of the Jenova Project, was an abject failure. Direct injection had killed subjects at best, or morphed them into hideous Makonoid monsters at worst. The macabre results left Professor Gast shaken, to the point where he requested hiatus from the project.

Though absurd and completely illogical, Lucrecia couldn’t help but feel as if her acceptance of the project had made her a harbinger of bad luck. In Gast’s absence, his two protegees fought viciously to claim leadership of the project. It was a mess of animosity and backstabbing, with Lucrecia and her fellow researcher Gillian Hewley caught in the middle. 

It escalated to the point where President Shinra himself had to step in and quell the infighting. The Jenova Project was split in two: Professor Hewley supported Professor Hollander with Project G, while Lucrecia was placed under Hojo to support Project S.

Project G was given approval to begin first. While Professor Hojo was enraged by the choice, Lucrecia was grateful to be put on the backburner; it gave her time to focus on this instead.

Lucrecia giggled and ran giddily to the back of the cave, rushing towards the largest of the crystals.

“Wait!” Dr. Valentine called from the cave entrance. Lucrecia ignored his warnings.

“Come on, Dr. Valentine!”

“The fountain isn’t going anywhere,” Grimoire laughed, then shook his head and calmly strode to stand beside her.

Lucrecia pointed eagerly at the crystal. A dark miasma swirled inside. “This is some sort of reservoir for the ‘terra corrupt’ mentioned on the Cetra tablet. I’m certain!” 

Grimoire leaned in close and narrowed his eyes. “Hmm…” He stood upright and turned his gaze to the other crystals sprouting from the walls. “This crystalline spring contains contaminated deposits of bioplasma. They must have overflown from the pure Lifestream.”

“All our readings indicate a strange type of energy radiating from the site,” Lucrecia gasped. “Could this grotto be the location where the legendary Chaos is destined to be born?”

Project G was progressing smoothly. Gillian Hewley had volunteered her own blood for the process, combining it with Jenova’s genetic material to be injected into a fetus. It was far too early to tell if the unborn child would develop the powers of the Ancients, but both Gillian and the child were recovering from therapy and showing no ill side effects.

Both the Jenova Project and Dr. Valentine’s research into Chaos and Omega were proceeding swiftly. Collectively, Shinra was making great strides in the advancement of their study into the Cetra and their legends. 

Lucrecia clearly didn’t see it that way. Grimoire teased his assistant about the “little green monster” stirring within her. But as a winter chill swept through the mountains, it became hard to view Lucrecia’s increasing envy with any levity. She became utterly obsessed with her work, often forgetting to eat or sleep as she typed away at her computer. Originally, Grimoire viewed her unwavering devotion as admirable.

But the lack of rest made her sloppy. Her mistakes made her frustrated. Her frustration led her to double down, which only led to more mistakes. He tried gently to coax her away from her desk. “Don’t you think you are taking things a little too quickly?”

“And why not?” Lucrecia typed furiously, her fingers flying across the keyboard. “All those people at Shinra who laughed at my thesis... I have to prove them wrong!”

“Rushing into matters will get you nowhere, Doctor.” Dr. Valentine turned and peered curiously at the tube of mako behind her. 

He’d extracted a ball of the dark miasma festering within the grotto and transported it to the lab. It bubbled and swirled with erratic energy, almost like a fierce beast unwilling to be caged. As Grimoire made to turn back to his assistant, the surface of the tube glinted in the fluorescent light.

Krrkh!

The tube cracked. The sound was nearly imperceptible over the hum of machinery and bubbling of mako. The jagged fissure spread, facing Lucrecia. Grimoire had a split second to act.

“Look out!”

Grimoire shoved Lucrecia out of the way as a spume of dark liquid shot out of the tube. It grazed Grimoire’s right arm as it blasted the desk, the pressure tearing clean through his sleeve and the top layer of his skin. Black bioplasma dripped from the wound.

“Are you alright, Dr. Valentine?” Lucrecia rushed to Grimoire’s side, reaching for his arm. 

Grimoire pushed her away gently, fearing what would happen if she made contact with the substance. “I’ll be fine.” His arm no longer hurt, but judging by the smell, that wasn’t a good sign. “I’ll be…”

Dr. Valentine assured Lucrecia that he was fine, but the black ichor spreading through his veins told a different story. Despite his warnings, Lucrecia clutched at the doctor, running her fingers along his arm, wanting desperately to claw out the poison spreading through his body.

“Dr. Valentine!” she sobbed. There must be something I can do!

Grimoire took a pained, shuddering breath. “Tell my son,” he gasped, “that I’m sorry.” He turned his gaze to the ceiling, his eyes glazing over. The color drained from his skin.

“Dr. Valentine! Dr. Valentine!” Tears streamed down Lucrecia’s face.

Dr. Valentine slowly closed his eyes. His body began to glow, shimmering green particles drifting into the air. “My time has come… to return to the Lifestream.”

With those final words, he dissolved, his body returning to the planet.

Lucrecia screamed.

“No!” She sobbed, clutching at the wispy green particles as if trying to push them back into Dr. Valentine’s form. Instead the mako slipped through her fingers. “Come back! Why did you have to fade away!? Why did you…”

Chapter Text

Lucrecia was alone.

Grimoire Valentine’s presence in the manor had imbued its Gothic halls with warmth, like a crackling fireplace on a cold winter night. Without him, Shinra Manor was cold, dark, and unbearably empty.

Lucrecia had contained what remained of the bioplasma and cleaned up the mess—the mess she had created. With heavy heart, she informed the company of what had transpired, then returned to her desk to complete her report.

I have determined the materia found by Dr. Valentine at the fountain of Chaos to be a type of refined anti-matter formed within the grotto over the past several millennia.

A tear plopped onto Lucrecia’s hand. She ignored it.

I believe the planet created this instrument out of necessity as a means to control Chaos and prolong its own inevitable fate.

Her vision swam as more unwept tears filled her vision. She relied on muscle memory to continue typing.

By controlling Chaos, the planet also succeeds in preventing the advent of Omega. If Chaos is allowed to fulfill his destiny of destruction, Omega’s awakening cannot be far behind.

That is why I...

A pained sound escaped Lucrecia’s throat, the tiny squeak the final straw. She wailed loudly, throwing herself onto her desk as she sobbed uncontrollably. Dr. Valentine! She pleaded with the Lifestream, praying that it would somehow return her mentor to her, to undo her foolish mistakes.

But the manor remained silent.

Nibelheim was exactly as Vincent’s father had written: a quaint, quiet town nestled in the base of Mt. Nibel. The town itself was neither warm and inviting nor cold and distant; its townspeople greeted Vincent politely but hurried him along towards the mansion.

The mansion, hidden at the end of a winding dirt road, was the coldest part of town, barred from entry by a tall metal gate. Vincent ran a finger along one of the black metal bars and smiled. His father had instilled an appreciation for Gothic architecture in Vincent from a young age. Its tall, vaulted windows and ornamental design hearkened to the divine, light and beauty converging around a central authority. 

It felt fitting for a place that bore the name Shinra.

Vincent pushed open the gate with an earsplitting creak, the sound deafeningly announcing his arrival. A scientist in a white lab coat opened the grand double doors as Vincent climbed the steps to the mansion, welcoming him in. 

The Jenova Project was discussed so frequently, with such awe and prestige, that Vincent half expected a bustling campus of researchers and scientists, their theories and discussions echoing in the cavernous foyer like they did in the sleek, modern halls of headquarters. 

But there was no one save for the single scientist leading Vincent down the hall into an ornate dining room. He introduced himself as Professor Hojo and succinctly briefed Vincent on his duty here. Though Vincent was assigned to act as security detail for all involved in the project, Professor Hojo scoffed at the prospect of a bodyguard and insisted his assistant was the only one “foolish enough to need babysitting.”

The professor’s demeanor rubbed Vincent the wrong way. But a job was a job, so he bit his tongue and continued into the dining hall. 

The only other person in the room was a young woman with long brown hair cascading over her white lab coat. Her back was turned to Vincent, her long fingers idly toying with a small silver fork on the table. Before he’d even seen her face, Vincent knew—this was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Vincent stiffened to attention. “Vincent Valentine reporting for duty, ma’am. I have been assigned your protection.”

The woman turned and glanced at him with warm brown eyes that instantly widened in recognition. “No…” She turned away, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Why would they send his…”

“Excuse me?”

The woman gasped, sheepishly turning back to Vincent. She didn’t meet his gaze, instead staring intently at his tie. “I apologize. This is the first time I have ever met anyone from the Turks.” She giggled, folding her hands behind her back and leaning forward intently. Vincent felt his cheeks warm slightly, and he fought to keep his composure. “Lucrecia Crescent. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Valentine.”

It was a dry winter that year in Nibelheim. The trees were bare, like skeletal hands that had clawed free from the cold earth. There was no snow—nothing to blanket the crumpled brown leaves, nothing to hide the death surrounding the manor.

Vincent was the same; though he kept to the shadows and rarely interrupted her work, there was nothing to keep his eyes—Grimoire’s eyes—from staying locked on her. There was nothing accusatory in those eyes; like his father, Vincent was polite and demure. On the contrary, something else kept Vincent’s gaze drawn to her. Lucrecia was lying if she claimed not to recognize the reason—she often caught herself looking the same way at Professor Hojo.

The professor shared Lucrecia’s relentless determination, and the two of them would often work side-by-side late into the night studying samples of Professor Gast’s Cetra. Its properties were unlike any living thing the two of them had seen. 

They managed to discover how the specimen had remained intact for millenia: when separated, the cells would inch back together again, merging into one form. Unfortunately, that property made the Jenova cells quite the escape artists; many tests had to be nullified when test samples snuck out of their containers to merge with the control samples. But the quirk provided a strange comfort; she and Professor Hojo were the only scientists in the world who had to face such a quandary. It was an in-joke that only they shared. It made their time working together feel… special. Intimate.

Professor Hojo despised being under Vincent’s watch, so time with Hojo also proved to be the only respite from the ghost of Grimoire’s yearning gaze. Professor Hojo wasn’t exactly a comforting presence—his ego was larger than the mansion and his cackle grated on her ears—but with him, Lucrecia could escape her guilt, if only for a few hours.

At the turn of the new year, Professor Hojo left for Banora to coordinate with Professor Hollander on the status of Project G, leaving Lucrecia alone in the manor again.

But she wasn’t alone; Vincent remained her stalwart protector, quietly observing her as she continued testing Jenova cells. She wondered if perhaps Grimoire had told him about her; he almost instinctively knew when she was slipping too deeply into her work, always ready with a hot bowl of soup or a glass of water to break her out of her obsession. They were small gestures, but in the cold isolation of the manor, Lucrecia was grateful for them.

Hojo sent word of the project’s progress: the initial test subject, “Genesis”, was showing great promise. The Rhapsodos family, the wealthy owners of Banora White apple production facilities, used their lavish wealth to secure guardianship over the child. And even more promising, Gillian Hewley had conceived a child of her own—that fetus also showed similar genetic composition to Genesis. 

Over the phone, Hojo expressed his doubts to Lucrecia. In his opinion, Hollander wasn’t following proper scientific process; the children were flukes. He instructed Lucrecia to research other forms of gene therapy that could be more closely controlled in lab conditions, then hung up.

Lucrecia was sick of Jenova. With Hojo by her side, the mystery of the Cetra was an exciting puzzle to solve; alone, she proved frustratingly obtuse. She needed a break. 

Though her heart twisted with guilt, her mind immediately flitted to the remnants of bioplasma still floating in the tank in the basement. A quick check wouldn’t hurt. A few measurements, a few tests. Nothing more. It would keep her hands busy, and perhaps her mind, too.

The basement study still smelled of Grimoire’s cologne. It brought a tear to Lucrecia’s eye; she quickly brushed it away before Vincent could notice. The Turk gazed in awe at the equipment in the lab, and Lucrecia couldn’t help but smile, remembering her own awed reaction the first day she’d worked with Dr. Valentine.

It was a strange feeling, looking on the sample of bioplasma on the desk. It pulsed steadily like a heartbeat, exhibiting none of the erratic behavior it had shown before-

Lucrecia shook her head and reached for the radio on the desk. She twisted the dial, scouring the static for a signal. She settled on a station playing classical music, then turned up the volume. The music filled the room, drowning out the swirling thoughts in her head.

“Vincent.”

Vincent’s eyes widened in surprise; it wasn’t often that Lucrecia addressed him. “Yes?”

Lucrecia rose from her seat and gently grasped Vincent’s hand. It was warm, his fingers soft and unmarred by age. “Dance with me.”

“Wh-what? No… no, I can’t dance,” he stammered. 

This man wasn’t Grimoire; he wasn’t a grizzled old mentor, he was young and bashful, and quite handsome, too. Lucrecia grinned teasingly. “So you don’t like me?”

The red tinge to Vincent’s cheeks confirmed her suspicions. “No, no that’s not what I…”

“Then dance with me.” Before Vincent could react, Lucrecia pulled his hands to rest on her hips before resting her hands on his shoulders. She began to sway in time with the music. “See,” she murmured, as much to herself as to Vincent, “it isn’t that bad, is it?” 

“Yeah, this isn’t… too bad.” Vincent slowly closed his eyes, and Lucrecia leaned forward, resting her head against his shoulder. 

For a brief moment, Lucrecia was no longer a scientist on the brink of the planet’s greatest scientific discovery. She was simply a young woman, dancing in the arms of a handsome young man. 

The bioplasma pulsed suddenly. “Huh?” Her heart plummeted to her stomach, but the energy stabilized. Vincent cast a worried glance at her, then to the dark matter. “Ah, that,” she gulped, “it’s your…”

It’s your father’s proudest achievement… and the thing that killed him. Lucrecia shook her head and pulled Vincent closer to her, pressing herself deeper into his warm embrace. “Oh, nevermind.”

“Is it important?”

“Yes, very important,” Lucrecia admitted. She didn’t elaborate, and Vincent didn’t press the issue further. The two swayed back and forth in time with the music.

“Sometimes,” she murmured softly into Vincent’s shoulder, “I get so involved with my research that I lose myself.” She closed her eyes, picturing the last time Vincent had offered her a warm bowl of pumpkin soup after a long day of work. “Whenever that happens, though, you always come to my rescue. Thank you, Vincent.”

“Huh?”

Lucrecia giggled. They were the same age, yet somehow Vincent had managed to preserve the innocence of a child. “Nothing,” she sighed. She wrapped her arms around him, letting her mind drift away until all that remained was the feeling of her body against his. “I just wanted to thank you.”

The flowers bloomed early that year.

Vincent had never considered himself one for flowers, but he increasingly found himself gazing at the bright blooms through the manor’s stained glass windows. He had a spring in his step as he did his rounds through the mansion each morning, the world awash in light that seemed to both soften the edges and offer incredible clarity.

The dance he and Lucrecia had shared that cold January day seemed to break the cold wall she’d been putting up; as the weather warmed, so too did her demeanor towards him. Not that it meant anything, Vincent had to remind himself. She was a scientist; the chemistry between her and Hojo, especially at the height of their testing, was electric. Vincent’s heart twinged with jealousy at the sight of the two of them together.

Together, they’d hypothesized a promising alternative for the Jenova Project: Project G focused on “somatic” something-or-other, but the two scientists were eager to explore something “germline” related. The terminology was far beyond Vincent’s understanding, and it gave him a headache trying to make sense of it all. 

But whatever this “germline” theory was, testing and experimenting with it occupied Lucrecia’s time—and anytime Lucrecia was with Hojo, Vincent was told to make himself scarce. So he wandered the grasslands at the base of Mt. Nibel. He’d found a grassy hill that, on a clear day, offered a breathtaking view of the ocean. 

One particularly warm day, Vincent lay in his usual spot, resting against the thick trunk of an old tree. He closed his eyes.

“Vincent…”

His eyelids fluttered, and Lucrecia’s beautiful face floated to the forefront of his mind. He smiled to himself, remembering their dance, the way her warm body pressed against his… 

“Vincent…”

Her voice was louder. Vincent opened his eyes, taking a deep breath. The scent of flowers filled the air, along with a familiar smell of perfume.

“Fall asleep here, and you might catch a cold.”

Vincent scrambled upright, his cheeks flush with embarrassment. Lucrecia smiled down at him, her brown hair cascading over her shoulder as she giggled teasingly. “Why are you so surprised?” Lucrecia turned away in mock offense. “Is my face that hideous?”

“No. I didn’t... I’m sorry,” Vincent stammered.

“And how are you supposed to be my bodyguard if you’re up here sleeping?”

“The warm breeze… I was only going to rest my eyes for a minute.”

“Well, I have to admit, the breeze is quite comfortable.” She turned and closed her eyes, the wind tousling her hair. Vincent’s heart skipped a beat at the sight. “However,” she leaned over him again, “I think you’re in my seat.”

Vincent moved to stand, but before he could, Dr. Crescent pulled a picnic basket from behind her back. A bottle of wine peeked out of the top. “Care to join me?”

Lucrecia giggled childishly, her cheeks tinged pink as she returned to the mansion, the Turk close behind. 

Professor Hojo was no idiot; he’d seen how Lucrecia’s demeanor had shifted after her time alone with her bodyguard that winter. It shouldn’t have affected him—he and Dr. Crescent were colleagues; a professional relationship was all he should expect from her. But he had to admit, he enjoyed working with Lucrecia. The scientist had a brilliant mind that rivaled his own, and she was one of very, very few who didn’t balk at his blunt honesty.

Seeing her cast coquettish glances at the Turk made Hojo’s stomach turn in a way he didn’t recognize. He wished he could tear his own abdomen open, poke and prod at the beating organ in his chest to discern what was making it race. Perhaps injecting it with a sedative would stabilize it, but that would run the risk of-

His hand slipped, the edge of his finger brushing against the sample he’d pulled from storage. An image flashed in his mind, of Lucrecia throwing herself into the Turk’s arms, her eyes fluttering shut as she brought her lips to his-

Hojo recoiled, his rage so intense his vision turned red. He took a deep breath, centering his focus again. He grumbled; the Jenova cell was now contaminated with his own biological data. It would be useless.

“Professor Hojo.”

Hojo scowled and turned to face Vincent Valentine. He briefly imagined himself throwing a large sample of Jenova cells at the Turk, to see if it might cling to him like a slime mold, but he resisted the urge to waste a sample to such mindless rage.

“Have you seen Lucrecia?”

“Why ask me, boy?” Hojo snapped. “Isn’t it your job to watch her? Incompetent fool!”

In fact, Hojo had seen Lucrecia sneak down to the basement, likely working on that foolish thesis of hers—the work of this young man’s father. He grinned wickedly. Has she told him…?

“Check in the basement study,” Hojo ordered curtly. “And tell her to come here if you find her. We have work to do.”

Vincent strolled into the basement lab. He still felt dazed from the warm breeze and the wine; he didn’t want the feeling to end. He hoped Lucrecia didn’t, either. “Lucrecia?”

Nobody responded. Vincent wondered if perhaps Hojo had directed him down here just to get him out of the professor’s way. “Hello? Anybody here?”

He turned to leave—but the image of a familiar man on Lucrecia’s computer caught his eye. “Father?” He rushed over to get a better look.

Vincent recognized the picture; he’s been with his father when he waited in line to get it taken. He remembered Grimoire joking about how many gray hairs he’d gained since he’d last updated his company portrait. He’d ruffled Vincent’s jet-black hair and told Vincent that one day he’d have to deal with silver streaks of his own. 

Vincent bit back tears; since joining the Turks, he hadn’t reached out. So many opportunities to spend time with his dad, and instead he’d focused on his training, and his father had focused on his work. And now…

“Who’s...!?”

Vincent whirled around to face Lucrecia. She gasped; she clearly wasn’t expecting to see Vincent. “Lucrecia. This file…” 

“It’s none of your business,” she snapped. She pushed past Vincent and closed the file.

“But it is,” Vincent protested. “Why didn’t you tell me you worked with my father?”

“Stop it! Just stop it!” 

Lucrecia’s sharp defensiveness sent a chill down Vincent’s spine. All he knew of his father’s death was that it was a work accident. He reached out and held both her hands in his, silently pleading for her to tell him the truth. “Lucrecia…”

“I…” Lucrecia broke down sobbing. “It was all my fault. I didn’t mean for your father to die. I couldn’t…” She yanked her hands free from Vincent’s grasp and wiped the tears from her face with her sleeve. 

“I’m so sorry.”

Chapter Text

Project G was a failure.

The Rhapsodos and Hewley children were the only two survivors of the project, and neither showed any of the magical affinity or physical strength afforded the Cetra of legend. Though ashamed of their involvement and blind hope for the project, the Rhapsodos family agreed to raise Genesis as their own in Banora, and to help Shinra hide all evidence of their failure. Gillian Hewley was not as cooperative, attempting to flee with her son Angeal. She eventually reached an agreement to lay low in Banora with the Rhapsodos family under the condition that she would never be associated with Shinra again. Even Professor Gast disappeared, disavowing the work he had put into the project.

The backlash was so immense that Professor Hojo half-expected the Jenova Project to be disbanded completely. But President Shinra trusted his brilliance; his initial research into germline gene therapy was convincing enough that the president gave Professor Hojo full ownership of the Jenova Project and free reign to do “whatever is necessary” to see the project come to fruition. Reduction of mako excavation costs was no longer the requirement; the president would accept any metric that was sufficiently profitable to Shinra’s efforts, anything Hojo could scrape together to salvage Shinra’s public image after such an abysmal failure.

The freedom afforded his new position was intoxicating; he retrofitted the Mt. Nibel reactor into incubators, an assembly line of experiments delving into the limits of animal physiology and genetic engineering. The entire Jenova specimen was granted to him as well, though he had no need of it; its arms and legs provided ample data for his needs. He enshrined the mummified corpse in a special chamber within the reactor and sealed the door. 

And Hojo’s good fortune didn’t stop at his work. He was correct in assuming Lucrecia had hidden the truth of Grimoire Valentine’s death from his son. To Hojo’s surprise, however, it was not Vincent who treated Lucrecia with hostility; on the contrary, Lucrecia’s demeanor towards the Turk was colder than the Northern Cave. 

He couldn’t resist twisting the knife one day in the midst of their studies. “So you’ve come to your senses and chosen me.” 

“Yes, doctor.” To Hojo’s surprise, Lucrecia threw herself into his arms, and he pulled her into a tight embrace.

Lucrecia had killed Vincent’s father.

But he never blamed her. If she claimed his death was an accident, he had no reason to distrust her. All he wanted was to see her smiling face.

As the heat of summer gave way to the first chill of fall, the smile returned to Lucrecia’s face—but it was reserved almost exclusively for Hojo. And when she fell pregnant, bearing Hojo’s child, she never told him. He had found the positive test result when he’d cleaned out the bathroom trash.

However, if she is happy, then I don’t mind.

Vincent repeated the thought to himself until he nearly believed it. But the illusion shattered the day he stumbled across a draft report on the progress of the Jenova Project. In vitro fertilization… CRISPR/Cas9 induced cleavage… genetic mosaicism… The medical jargon was far beyond Vincent’s comprehension. He wouldn’t have spared the document a second glance, save for the note at the top of the page.

Lucrecia Crescent: Establish legal basis for guardianship of child

Vincent felt the blood drain from his face. Does this mean… Vincent flipped through the report, trying to make sense of the dense clinical verbosity. Lucrecia’s child… could it be…?

Vincent rushed out of the lab, almost in a daze. He threw open the doors to the dining hall with a bang. “Is it true?”

“Is what true?” Hojo snapped, clearly perturbed by the interruption.

“That Lucrecia…” Vincent’s voice cracked. “That Dr. Crescent is to take part in this project?”

“It’s true.”

Vincent turned to see Lucrecia glaring at him from a dark corner of the room. He staggered back, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Why are you so surprised?” She asked coolly.

“But using your own child for an experiment?”

Hojo cackled derisively. “I don’t know what you’re implying, but both of us are scientists. We know what we are doing.” He waved his hand dismissively. “You are the last person to have any word in this. Now leave us at once, boy!”

“But…” Vincent turned desperately to Lucrecia, searching her eyes for the woman who had once smiled at him by the meadow.

“But what?” Lucrecia huffed. “If you have something to say, say it.”

“Are you…” Vincent swallowed heavily, then stepped forward imploringly. “Are you sure this is what you really want?”

“Am I sure?” Lucrecia spluttered. “Am I sure!? If this only concerns me, then yes, I am sure!” 

Lucrecia’s fury was unlike anything Vincent had seen. He shrank back under her venomous gaze. “I just…”

All Vincent did was watch. 

He watched as Lucrecia’s condition worsened—her face pale, her body frail, her steps uneven. She wheezed when she climbed the stairs. Late one winter evening, Vincent found her sprawled unconscious on the floor. Even after she came to, Lucrecia was delirious, mumbling about a man with long silver hair standing in the flaming ruins of Nibelheim.

Vincent admittedly knew little about pregnancy, but he knew this was far from normal. Whatever Hojo was doing to her, whatever experiments he forced upon her, they were killing her. He could stand by and watch no longer.

He found Hojo in the basement laboratory. “Talk!” He stormed up to Hojo, who ignored Vincent. “Why did you let this happen!?”

“Silence,” Hojo snarled.

“You-”

“Silence!” 

Hojo thrust a hand inside his lab coat. Before Vincent could react, white-hot pain tore through his chest. He staggered, then crumpled to the floor, staring dumbly at the smoking barrel of Hojo’s pistol. His ears rang. His vision tunneled. He struggled to process Hojo’s muttering as the professor paced the floor beside Vincent’s body.

“Why can’t these people just keep quiet? I can... body... next experiment... a genius... I am... success here... justify... failures…”

Vincent groaned, and with the last of his strength, rolled over to lie on his back. He spotted Lucrecia descending the stairs, her hand resting protectively over her stomach. She gasped and staggered back at the sight of Vincent bleeding out on the floor.

“Hojo,” she gasped. “What have you...?”

Hojo burst out laughing, a shrill cackle that echoed through the lab.

“Lucrecia,” Vincent groaned. 

The last thing Vincent saw was the look of horror on Lucrecia’s face.

Vincent’s head throbbed, each heartbeat like a hammer smashing into his skull. The harsh overhead light seared his retinas, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut. He groaned, but the sound that emerged from his throat was the guttural growl of an animal.

He tried to push himself up, but the room pitched and spun. Bile rose in his throat. He dry heaved as something awoke deep inside him, pushing and pounding against his skin and forcing him to hunch forward in agony. His spine cracked; his muscles burned; his body seared with pain. His skin felt too tight, like it was a flimsy chrysalis holding some dark, folded form within. 

It burst forth. Curved talons pierced his shoes, bony spikes protruded from his back. He gnashed his teeth as his nose stretched away from his face into a long, beastly snout.

What’s happening to me!?

Vincent threw his head back, and Galian Beast let out a blood-curdling scream.

“I’m so sorry.”

Lucrecia pressed her hand to the glass of the mako tube. Vincent slumbered soundly inside.

Vincent’s body was still warm when Hojo strapped his corpse to the operating table and performed his experiment. Lucrecia didn’t know what the scientist had done to him, but one thing was for certain—Vincent Valentine was no longer human. 

But he was alive. 

“Just a little longer. Then I can let you out.” His eyelids fluttered, and her heart lurched. Could he hear her? She opened her mouth to whisper more, but a wave of dizziness swept over her. She staggered back, clutching the desk for balance.

“What’s wrong with me lately?” She pressed one hand to her stomach and squeezed her eyes shut. “Maybe I’ve been working too hard.”

“Hah! I thought I heard a rat down here.”

Hojo’s silhouette filled the doorway, and the scientist peered smugly at Vincent floating in the mako tube. “And just what do you think you’re doing with my failed experiment?”

“Get out of my lab!” Lucrecia shrieked.

“Silence! I’m the one giving orders here!” There was ice in Hojo’s gaze as he stormed closer. The flicker of the computer screen caught his eye, and he turned to take a closer look. “Omega? And Chaos?” He glanced up at Vincent, then broke into a derisive cackle. “I see. Another experiment? You’re using this fine specimen to finish your thesis, aren’t you, Doctor?”

“No. You’re wrong!”

“Am I? Once a scientist, always a scientist, I must say.” He tapped on the glass in front of Vincent’s face. “How happy this fellow must be,” he sneered. “Helping his beloved even after he’s begun rotting away!”

“No,” Lucrecia sobbed. “This is no experiment. It’s…” 

But Hojo had already left, still sniggering as he pulled the door shut behind him. 

“No,” Lucrecia wailed, “You’re wrong! You’re wrong! You’re wrong!” She pounded her head with her fists. “I…”

Experiment?

That her report on Chaos and Omega was open in the same lab where Vincent slumbered was pure coincidence. Perhaps she was delirious, but Hojo’s words had given her an idea.

I found it… With him… That’s why…

The room tilted and swayed as she tried to navigate. 

I couldn’t save him…

She clutched at every solid surface she could reach, clawing across the room to pull the sample of antimatter from storage.

Proof…?

She squeezed her eyes shut. The memory came rushing back: the smell, the weight of Grimoire’s body in her arms as he dissolved into the Lifestream.

Never again.

She staggered over to the mako tube, where Vincent floated, unconscious, within.

“You had… You had his eyes. I didn’t… I didn’t want to remember.” I didn’t want to face the truth. “I pushed you away, but… Now I realize…” I never wanted to lose you.

It was too much. Overcome with pain and fatigue, Lucrecia fell to her knees. Tears rolled down her cheek, and she made no move to wipe them away. “Not… not again,” she gasped weakly. “Not today.”

She took a deep breath, then shakily rose to her feet. She leaned against the console, gazing up at Vincent. “Vincent, did you know,” she gasped, “that your eyes are exactly like your father’s?”

The lab faded to dazzling white, and Lucrecia thudded to the floor.

That summer, Lucrecia gave birth to a baby boy.

It had not been an easy labor. Her body convulsed with tremors, her skin slick with sweat, her throat raw from screaming. But her heart soared at the sound of the baby’s cries, at the brief glimpse of his scrunched red face and tiny, curled fingers as Hojo whisked him away.

The pain had been worth it.

Even if the child wasn’t hers.

Though she’d supplied the egg for fertilization and carried the child to term, genetically the child was Jenova’s. The company had offered her the chance to claim guardianship, but she’d refused. Her agonizing pregnancy was enough; she was more than happy to dump the responsibility for his care on Hojo. 

But now that she was free of him, now that she’d pushed him from her womb, she felt… empty. Like something integral to her had been ripped away.

She pushed thoughts of Sephiroth from her mind and returned to her work on Chaos and Omega. It was the key to saving something she knew was precious to her.

I’ve done it.

It had taken almost five years. 

Born of the Lifestream. Bringing all together. Stopping the imminent decay of tissue.

Vincent was alive. His body had knit itself back together with the aid of bioplasma drawn from Chaos’s grotto. Whatever Hojo had done to Vincent, whatever darkness tainted his veins, Chaos healed him. 

Lucrecia’s heart pounded as she eased Vincent off his sedative. The Turk’s eyes fluttered open, and Lucrecia smiled at him.

The creature that grinned back wasn’t Vincent. It flashed its wickedly sharp teeth, then began to writhe. His body convulsed, the mako hissing and boiling as his frame stretched and twisted. Chaos began to pound on the glass, clawed fingers scraping along its surface. 

Lucrecia backed away in horror. “Stop…” 

She hadn’t saved Vincent; she’d birthed the chaos that had stolen him away from her.

“Stop!” Lucrecia let out an anguished wail.

A flash of light burst forth, and Chaos froze. The materia on the ground glowed faintly, its light appearing to calm the beast. “This…” Lucrecia reached down and picked up the orb. “The materia I found…” 

We found together.

Hojo never visited the lab. And after how Lucrecia had acted the last time he checked on her progress, she didn’t blame him.

“Give him back!” Lucrecia had shaken Hojo violently by the shoulders. “Give my son back!” 

She had no right to call Sephiroth her son. Hojo certainly knew as much; he simply smirked at her and nodded at Vincent floating in the mako tube. “And how is your experiment proceeding?”

“I don’t know! I don’t care!” Lucrecia sobbed hysterically. Vincent was stable; the Protomateria calmed the beast within. He no longer needed her.

But Sephiroth—Sephiroth consumed her. “Let me see him! Just once!”

Jenova’s cells…

Vincent… 

Lucrecia typed furiously, her fingers dragging on the keys and producing utter gibberish. She slammed the end of the keyboard and started over. 

Stored as data…

Must leave…

She bit back tears as her hands produced more gibberish, and she smacked the keyboard again. 

Thought…

I loved…

“No!” She screamed and slammed her fists on the keyboard with such force that the keys became stuck, printing rapidly scrolling lines as the computer overloaded.

Record…

Memory copy…

For him…

She stared numbly at her computer, then wandered over to Vincent in a stupor, dropping to her knees outside his tank. “What am I doing?” She buried her head in her hands.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t…” Lucrecia took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry. I can’t take it anymore. My body… My mind…”

It was wrong… 

The method she chose should have guaranteed her death. Instead, she awoke on the floor, weak, nauseous, her heart brimming with despair… but very much alive.

Jenova…  

The same alien phenomenon that ensnared her mind in thoughts of her child was surely the same thing that anchored her to life while she yearned for death. 

Sephiroth… 

Hojo named the boy after the manifestation of a higher power. To him, the child was a godsend. To her, he was a monster. She hated him. She hated herself for hating him. The love she felt for him wasn’t hers—it was parasitic, encroaching, consuming her mind, ordering her to reunite with him, to hold him in her arms.

Wait… Disperse… 

Lucrecia knew two things with complete certainty. She couldn’t die.

And she couldn’t stay.

…so sorry… 

“Before I go…”

Lucrecia’s mind continued to swirl, as if in a fog, as she limped weakly into the lab.

Apply… but I… For… Fragment… Survive… Hope… who…?

She took a shaky breath and opened her report one last time.

My conscience tells me that I must leave some sort of record documenting all that I have attempted.

That which slumbers within him...

The antithesis of Omega... Chaos.

Soul wrought of terra corrupt...

Before Omega begins his journey to the sea of stars, Chaos will scourge the world of all things living, sending them back to the Lifestream...

Only to be left with the burden of bearing the discarded remnants of a dying world.

And it was I who...

I am so sorry...

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!”

Chapter Text

Deepground.

It used to be a medical facility for injured SOLDIER troops.

Military personnel would be sent there for care and rehabilitation.

However, over time, it evolved into a laboratory for madmen content on ignoring all laws of man and nature.

And supposedly, this evolution took place because of the existence of one rogue soldier--a man known only as "G."

The Shinra Company is feared across the globe for its ruthless army, SOLDIER.

However, there are two members of this legion of whom few have the courage to speak.

While one is well known: the infamous "S"--a symbol of strength and destruction--the other remains shrouded in an eldritch veil of shadows. All records of this man’s existence have been deleted: the only remnant of his legacy being the lone letter "G".

"G"...

We can only begin to imagine who this enigmatic warrior might be.

There are rumors that he was a biochemically constructed prototype for the soldier who would become "S". However, there are no documents to support these claims. In fact, there is so little information on "G" that his existence may be nothing but a fabrication.

The only thing that may give insight into this mystery is a lone personnel record which indicates that several years ago, a soldier 1st class was assigned a top-secret mission to pursue a target referred to only as "G". Unfortunately, any further data on this mission has been lost or destroyed...

“This must be an important matter if they are sending the two of us.”

A gray helicopter emblazoned with the Shinra Electric Power Company logo landed in the remains of the former town of Banora. The door slid open, and a man with wild silver hair stepped out. A small, skeletal man with dark hair nimbly left out after him.

“Apparently the subject will become our brother,” Weiss the Immaculate presumed.

“Is that so?” Nero the Sable chuckled, looking at Genesis’s slumbering body. “But will he accept his fate willingly?”

Two men clad in the uniform of SOLDIER 1st Class rushed past the strange men and lifted Genesis’s body from the ground. They carried him gently into the helicopter, and it flew away.

Genesis’s copy of LOVELESS remained on the chair. The wind flipped the pages open to the end of the book, where Genesis had jotted down the final act of the poem:

Even if the morrow is barren of promises

Nothing shall forestall my return

To become the dew that quenches the land

To spare the sands, the seas, the skies

I offer thee this silent sacrifice

"G" slumbers below Midgar...

Silently abiding his awakening...

Or so tell the stories of the vagrants who dwell in the slums of the mephitic metropolis. However, could there exist some truth behind these rumors?

Being one of the few who was involved in their construction, I know all too well of the vast caverns that sprawl deep beneath our city’s streets.

This will more than likely be my final entry. The last fragment of data I have uncovered reads as follows:

Soldiers branded with epithets of color...

These are the hellspawn of "G".

Chapter Text

“Where… Where am I…?”

Shalua Rui groaned, her hands slipping on the cold stone as she awakened. 

“Hey!” A woman in a black suit crouched down beside Shalua. “How are you feeling?” That black suit… The Turks!? “We’re below the desert.I thought that it would be cooler inside the monster’s tunnel.”

“Wh… why…?” Shalua struggled to make sense of her situation. Last she could recall, she had spotted a strange, mindless platoon of AVALANCHE soldiers wandering the desert…

“I found you passed out in the desert,” the Turk continued. “I couldn’t just turn my back on you. Please wait here a moment. I’m going to go look for some water.”

The Turks… To think that I’d run into one of them here… Shalua tried to stand, hoping to sneak out of the cave before the Turk could return. But her body was weak, so weak that she could barely sit upright.

“Here.” The Turk returned with a vial filled with clear water. “Drink up.” Shalua gulped down the cool, refreshing water, feeling it trickle down her throat. She slowly rose to a sitting position. “Looks like you’re finally feeling better. You’ll be back on your feet in no time.” Saved by a Turk. What a disgrace… “Can you move?”

With a grunt, Shalua pushed herself shakily to her feet. “Yeah. This is nothing.” She leaned heavily against the wall for support. “Don’t expect me to thank you. I never asked for your help in the first place.” She limped towards the exit.

“Hey! Wait a second!”

“I have something I have to do. I don’t have any time to waste here.”

“Hey, what’s the rush?” The Turk rushed to stand beside Shalua, her brows knotted in concern.

Shalua pushed her away. “I don’t need your help. Now leave me alone.”

“No way,” the Turk protested. “How do you plan to get out of here in the state you’re in!?”

As much as Shalua hated to admit it, the Turk was right. She reluctantly pushed herself away from the wall and instead leaned on the Turk, who gingerly supported her weight as she led Shalua out of the cave.

“It’s nice to be out of that hole, but…” Shalua coughed, lifting a hand to shield her face from the blistering sand swirling around her.

“A sandstorm, of all things…” The Turk squinted, then recoiled in horror as three figures approached through the dusty cloud of sand. “Oh, no! I forgot to check the radar!”

“AVALANCHE troops…” Shalua murmured. Her heart pounded, the hope strengthening her. She shuffled in the Turk’s grasp so she wasn’t leaning on the woman so heavily.

The Turk didn’t notice; she was more concerned with the dozens of men surrounding the two woman in the sandstorm. “They’re everywhere!”

“They would seem to hold a grudge against you.” Shalua carefully slipped her hand into her pocket. 

“You don’t say,” the Turk grimaced.

“What would their reason be?”

“Me.” The Turk shrugged. “No idea why, though. Must be my job!”

“So you freely admit it.” Shalua stepped back and drew her gun. “Don’t move. I’m another one of your victims. Or, more precisely, a victim of the Turks. My name is Shalua. And I will never forget those black suits. You were the ones who robbed me of my precious family…”

“What do you mean?” The Turk looked flabbergasted.

“She showed SOLDIER potential and was abducted.”

“You mean she was a SOLDIER candidate?”

“I call it kidnapping,” Shalua spat. “I’ve been looking for her ever since, first in Midgar and then all over the world. I’ve fought Shinra time and time again and gained countless wounds. Now!” She aimed the gun directly between the Turk’s eyes. “Tell me! Where do you hide the people you kidnap!?”

“I-I…” the Turk stammered, “I can’t say.”

An AVALANCHE soldier rushed forward, sparing a confused glance at Shalua before thrusting the muzzle of his gun into the Turk’s back.

“Stop that!” The Turk yelped.

“Lay off,” Shalua ordered. “I’m with AVALANCHE too. I’ve got nothing to do with the Turks.”

“So you used to be in AVALANCHE,” the Turk grimaced. The sandstorm subsided, the dust cloud clearing to reveal that the two women were completely surrounded.

“I joined to gather information on SOLDIER. I don’t endorse all of their views.”

“So that’s how it is.” The Turk shook her head. “But these people won’t listen to a word you say. The AVALANCHE you knew is gone.”

Shalua didn’t want to believe the Turk. But she spoke with such earnestness that Shalua’s resolve faltered slightly. “What do you mean?”

“They’re nothing but Fuhito’s puppets.”

“But how…”

“Get behind me!”

No sooner had the Turk shouted than the AVALANCHE men opened fire. They fired indiscriminately, and Shalua had no choice but to dive behind the Turk as she returned fire.

“Why are you helping me?” Shalua stood back-to-back with the Turk, dispatching a handful of AVALANCHE men aiming their guns at her forehead. “I’ll never forgive the Turks.”

“I don’t expect you to. I’m a Turk. We’re involved in a lot of dirty business. It’s only natural that people would hate us. But that someone hates us doesn’t mean that I hate them.”

“There are too many of them,” Shalua gasped as more men surrounded them. “We don’t stand a chance like this.” Suddenly, gunfire erupted and the men surrounded them dropped like flies. “What…”

“Backup?” The Turk sounded just as surprised as Shalua. “But who!?”

A man cleared his throat behind them, and Shalua turned to see a familiar face. “Sears.”

“Shalua!” Sears broke into a wide grin. “Long time no see. How’s your body holding up?”

“See for yourself.” Shalua gestured down to her body. “No problems whatsoever. Those shadow docs live up to their reputation.”

“Yeah.” Sears smiled as his eyes roamed over her body. “It’s like those wounds never happened. Anyway, you want out of here?” 

“Yeah.” A man walked up to stand beside Sears, clad in a distinctive black suit. “But when did you become friends with the Turks?”

“Well, a lot happened…”

“Sears.” The man standing beside Sears spoke up. “It’s dangerous here. You two can catch up on things later. Leave everything here to me and escort the young lady to safety.”

“I hear you. Let’s go, Shalua.”

Shalua started after Sears, but a strange feeling overtook her. She stopped and turned back to the Turk. “All right,” she admitted. “You may not have been among those who took my family away from me. Still,” she clenched her fist, gritting her teeth venomously. “I’ll never forgive you people!”

Chapter Text

Unit 13 was proud to be the sole SOLDIER squadron to have an undefeated track record against the group. Every mission they’d been assigned had been a resounding success, earning the group the nickname “Ragnarok”. Ragnarok had more than earned such a reputation—on one mission to destroy two AVALANCHE bases, they went out of their way to rescue another SOLDIER unit trapped deep within enemy territory. Word of such an impressive feat cemented Ragnarok in the eyes of the public, their prestige rivaling even that of Sephiroth himself.

But the decision to rescue the trapped unit was impulsive, directly against orders from the president. Despite the bolstered public image, it was clear the stern reprimand from Heidegger was only the beginning of what awaited the squad.

Several orphans broke out of a care facility run by Shinra, stealing several accessories in the process. Return the children to custody in Mako Reactor 0. A SOLDIER operative has been assigned to the reclamation of the stolen accessories.

Additionally, this incident has prompted the executives to review the care facility’s management…

With the elimination of Ragnarok, the four warriors of Lost Force had proven both their prowess and their loyalty to President Shinra. They were bestowed governing power over Deepground, each given full control over a sector of the facility.

But the escape of seven Deepground troopers had made it abundantly clear that loyalty alone was not a guarantee of servitude. The soldiers of Deepground would need to be ruled by force.

But two candidates showed promise. The girl, snatched from the Turks en route to become SOLDIER, showed remarkable aptitude at the Synaptic Net Dive ability. She could enter and manipulate different planes of existence, particularly the digital realm and the subconscious thoughts and memories of others. The other, a test subject known to Shinra as “P”, had developed extra-sensory perception. He showed incredible accuracy at detection of items and accessories hidden deep in abandoned caves.

Director Lazard paired “P” with a 1st Class SOLDIER on several joint missions to test his powers, a move that proved exceptionally beneficial: with Zack Fair’s assistance, “P” began to predict events in addition to item locations. 

Synaptic Net Dive… Extra-sensory Perception… through the brilliance of Deepground scientists, the Restrictors assumed total control. 

Not a single soul who entered Deepground would be able to resist the Restrictors again.

Weiss smirked pompously as his brother entered the room. “Sleep well?”

“Weiss?” Nero tilted his head, squinting cheerfully. “This is a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“These idiots want to ’digitally replicate’ me,” Weiss explained, “so I’m indulging them.” He could hear the researchers’ muffled voices just outside the room.

“When will Shinra learn?” Nero laughed. “There is no replicating you. They ought to know better.”

“What do you make of your new form, Weiss?” Chadley typed at the monitor, scanning the digital soldier’s metrics. “We’ve replicated everything about you, from thought patterns to stress responses. You should, however, notice some improvements due to my latest update. Indeed, I’d venture to say you’re stronger now than you’ve ever been.” 

“Stronger than I’ve ever been… A big claim, little man.” Weiss drew his sword and pointed it at Chadley’s nose. “Now… Who do I kill?”

Chadley sighed and pushed the virtual blade away from his face. “Given that this is merely a training exercise—no one.” 

“We’ll see,” Weiss sneered. “Be sure to choose my victims wisely…”

Weiss’s body, powered by pure mako, untainted by Jenova cells, contained power far beyond what Professor Hojo had hypothesized. And to be able to pilot such a vessel through a digital medium…

“So this is what’s possible when you transcend the flesh? Good to know.” Weiss’s virtual form flickered as Hojo cackled gleefully.

The plan came together effortlessly. Lucrecia’s thesis… this body… and Hojo’s replicated consciousness… the only thing standing in the way was the Restrictors. And Hojo knew exactly how to deal with them. 

“Either way, see you in Deepground.”

Chapter Text

Deepground. 

A facility secretly constructed beneath Midgar. Even within Shinra, few know of its existence. Here, all morals are cast aside. "To what limits can human strength be pushed?" Countless experiments have tried to answer this…

Those who were brought here against their will… Those who were brought here for their injuries… Those who have been here for as long as they can remember… Those who suddenly found themselves here one day… Those who know where they are… Those who know nothing…

Many kinds of people are gathered here…

Deepground… Shinra's dark secret…

He didn’t know where he was.

He didn’t know who he was. The man squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ease the pounding in his head. He remembered the cool, wet grass tickling his face, the warm fabric of a purple SOLDIER uniform. He remembered screaming, gunfire echoing from the recesses of his mind as a small, bespectacled girl reached for him. 

“Big brother! Save me!” 

“Welcome.” 

A soldier with red hair slicked back into spikes grinned at the man, his bright blue eyes sparkling mischievously. “Do you know where you are?” He paused, then shook his head when the nameless man didn’t respond. “Oh, well… This is Deepground. Shinra’s dark secret.” The SOLDIER threw his arm wide, gesturing at the room surrounding them. “The sole purpose of this place is to bring forth stronger and stronger beings. It’s-”

His monologue was cut short as the door to the atrium slid open. A tall masked figure wrapped in a dark cloak strode into the room, and a hush fell over the space at the sight of him. The SOLDIER dropped to his knee as the figure approached, his face pale. The cloaked figure ignored the SOLDIER, but tilted his head at the sight of the nameless man. 

I know him…

“A newcomer, huh?” The cloaked figure leaned in close, and the man shivered. “It seems you’ve worked hard to survive,” he murmured. “Become a good specimen.” He turned and walked away.

“That was… a Restrictor…” The SOLDIER’s smug attitude had all but disappeared. “A unit that’s not even supposed to exist. ‘Lost Force.’ The 14th SOLDIER Unit.” He swallowed hard and turned to face his companion. “Do not try to fight those people. They are the absolute existence in here.  No one can rival them.” He paused, pondering for a moment. “Well… Perhaps the Tsviets…” He shook his head. “But that’s all I have to say. Talk to the instructor standing next to the ranking board. If you want to raise your level, you need to pass through all the exams given by the officers. See you later then… that is, if you can stay alive.”

The man looked away for barely a moment, and when he looked back, the SOLDIER had disappeared. The man walked over to the instructor standing stiffly beside the ranking board. The officer wore a tan uniform cinched around his waist by a dark leather belt and a matching cap atop a silver mask obscuring his face.

“I'm Officer-East, in charge of promotion exams. This is the first time I've seen you, isn't it?” He shrugged. “Sorry. I can never remember faces. You meet someone one day, only to never lay eyes on him again. The ones you do remember end up dead. Naturally, I've given up trying to remember.” 

He stiffened to attention. “Well, you haven't been here long. Let me give you a quick primer. ‘In Deepground, strength is everything. Victory in battle will prove your ability to survive in Deepground and open new roads to you.’ That is the rule of this world.” He whipped his baton, smacking it against the ranking board. “First, we will test your basic abilities to see if you are a suitable soldier for Deepground. It's a simple test. All you have to do is participate in a solo battle and a team battle. Enter the battle from the terminal over there. For a detailed explanation, ask Commander Sturm next door. If in doubt, come back. I am always here.”

The man glanced over at Commander Sturm, but stayed by the officer. Officer-East perked up, clutching his baton eagerly. “In Deepground, battle is inevitable,” he explained. “You can’t run away. Whether they kill you or you commit suicide, the next moment you will be revived and forced to hold a gun. But even if you fight instead of flee, if you don’t prove yourself a useful warrior, you will be discarded. That's the world we're living in here.” He sprang into a salute. “Hail P.S.!”

The nameless newcomer completed the solo mission with ease that surprised even himself. “Hmm. You've shown me your mettle.” Officer-East nodded approvingly as he read over the results of the mission. “The wheels of fate have started to turn,” he muttered under his breath.

For his first team mission, the nameless man was paired with a young Drone named Soar. “Spears may rain, missiles may rain, but we must continue our training.” Soar kicked a rock, sneering as he quoted the officers’ propaganda. “The battlefield! Victory! It's calling you! Hail P.S.!” Soar shook his head. “If you win, you're in the government army; if you lose, you're covered in livestock droppings. Participating in training means nothing unless you win.”

Despite his cynicism, Soar proved to be a capable ally, eliminating foes with accurate shots from his handgun.

“To maintain this status quo is the same as retreat,” he grumbled. “Like a spinning top toy. As long as it keeps spinning, it won't topple over, but what if that momentum stops?” Soar laughed triumphantly as his companion threw a punch that connected squarely with an enemy fighter’s jaw. “Oh? That's good! That's good! I can feel the wind at your back!” Soar paused for a moment. “Wind… you know what? If you can’t remember your name, I’m going to give you one. ‘Fujin,’ the wind god!” 

After the mission, Soar gave Fujin a quick tour of the eastern sector, introducing him to the few allies he had gained in the days he had been in Deepground. But Soar had barely introduced Fujin to Kon, a trooper who was an expert in group units, when he was summoned by Commander Sturm to participate in another mission. Bereft of his new companion, Fujin wandered the sector aimlessly.

“Have you been to other areas? This area is just a small part of Deepground. It would be good to go around and see what's going on,” Officer-East suggested. “A mission in Kalm awaits you once you return.”

Fujin nodded. He picked a direction and started walking.

“Here, thou wilt need strength to aim for the faraway peaks.” Fujin glanced over at the armored woman who had spoken to him, tilting his head curiously. “I?” She smiled knowingly. “I am Argento. The strongest hide themselves as the weakest, and thus seem too weak to fight. Therefore, my role is to observe.” She gestured to her face; one eye was covered by a dark eyepatch, a deep scar peeking out from underneath. “There is a reason why I do not fight, yet still continue to exist.” She lowered her hand. “But ‘tis not yet time to speak of this. I ask thee. Dost thou seekest to become the strongest?”

Fujin nodded.

“Excellent. Then, for a time, I shall guide thee along thy path. But think no more of this until the day thou hast reached the end of thy long journey, and met with the Immaculate Emperor…” She dismissed Fujin, and he continued on his way.

A vast electrical grid buzzed with electricity in the southern sector. A man in a mage’s garb floated over to Fujin, his feet hovering a few feet above the ground.

“Yo! Welcome to Area 2. I’m Peliry.” He pulled a glowing orb from his pocket. “Do you know the accessory part called ‘Materia’? When equipped with this, you can shoot magic. Fire Materia shoots fire magic.” He tossed the orb into the air casually. “This guy just flies straight. Launch it in the area where the enemy is, and it will explode and deal damage within a certain range.” 

“A sortie?” 

An elderly man interrupted Peliry’s explanation with a harsh laugh. “Brave, really brave.” He grabbed Fujin roughly by the shoulder. “Let me take a good look at the contents of that brave buddy…” Fujin squirmed in the old man’s grasp, but his grip remained firm. “I've lost my self-control because I've taken too many age-prolonging treatments. The path of a researcher is a tough one,” he moaned, “I can't even count the number of test specimens that turned into minced pork ribs in my experiments. When I had a shred of humanity in me, I used to be so heartbroken over them.” He scoffed. “Now I get a headache every time someone pollutes my experimental site.”

Fujin wriggled violently, but the old man secured his grip on Fujin’s arm. “All electricity for this facility is supplied by Mako Power Generation. I'm Regis, one of the members who developed that power generation system. This thing that’s sparkling around in the back is… Well, just think of it as part of the battery. Maintenance is troublesome, but it's a masterpiece.” 

Regis gestured at the star-filled sky above. “The 360-degree gigantic electromagnetic panel that covers the canopy is the crystallization of Deepground's scientific prowess. How does it look like the real thing?” He laughed. “Occasionally, there will be some glitch noise, but that's part of the charm. From this, the number of people who go crazy from a closed and oppressive feeling should have decreased considerably.”

“Yo!” Peliry forced his fingers beneath Regis’s, pulling Fujin free from the old man’s grasp. “You planning to use Materia, then?” He laughed, guiding Fujin towards the hall leading to the western sector. “Aren’t we starting to run out of magic?” He gently pushed Fujin away, blocking the exit as the soldier hurried down the hall.

“Be wary of those whose gaze you meet, should you look too far into the wells of hell.” 

Fujin yelped in surprise as a man in a dark cape and pointed cap stepped out of the shadows. The man burst into laughter. “I'm joking! Welcome to Area 3. My name is Iruka. I’m a general here in Deepground.”

The man was strange, but unlike Regis, he didn’t appear to be a threat. Fujin walked alongside him as they strolled through the sector. “This is a place to appease the souls of the test subjects who perished before their goals were fulfilled. They must have died with a great deal of hatred and regret.” He swept his cape back dramatically. “Can you see them too? Unable to return to the planet, they continue to wander here.”

Fujin could not see the spirits, but the thought of the souls of the dead wandering the shadows sent a chill down his spine.

“‘In pursuit of supreme power, greater than even the heavens, I will traverse the hells of the deepest darkness, fearful wardens. The sword that destroys the endless light lies in the bloodstained grove. Now, hurry and live! If you turn back, the world will be consumed by darkness…’” Iruka shook his head. “Excuse me. It's a song by a poet who died a long time ago, but I thought it fit us strangely. What you believe determines where you go in life. Have you ever thought so?” Fujin shrugged. “People who believe in mako will be covered in mako and die,” Iruka explained. “People who believe in science drown in it and die. We are all born condemned to death, but if I am going to die anyway, I would like to be a martyr in pursuit of true strength. Are you one of them?”

Fujin froze for a moment. He thought carefully, then nodded.

“If you do things halfheartedly, you will end up following the same path as the people here. There is no need to hold back. Be a demon, a demon!” Iruka growled. “Each time they kill, they hate each other more and more. They hone their killing techniques and kill each other more and more. They never forgive, but rather continue to trample each other more violently and more coldly, fueled by their ever-swelling hatred…” He took a deep breath, unclenching his fists. “On the other side of this endless struggle lies the ultimate strength, free of hesitation and worry. Well,” he grinned. “Can we get there?”

The two men continued to the northern sector. There, Iruka introduced Fujin to a scout named Hiren. She was young and rather small; she reminded Fujin of a child. Of my sister… She and Iruka chatted idly for a bit. 

“I had a dream. It looked like an old church, with yellow flowers blooming inside the chapel.” Hiren closed her eyes, recalling the dream. “The faint light coming through the hole in the ceiling pours down on the flowers. It's a strange dream.” She held her hands out in front of her gently. “I have never seen a real flower before. But I knew right away that it was a ‘flower’. Come to think of it… I suspect I saw a flower’s seed on a virtual mission in Kalm. No, I'm not too sure if it was a seed,” she shook her head. “But if they were, I would like to grow them.”

Someone on the opposite side of the sector groaned loudly, followed by a sickening splat. Fujin left Hiren and Iruka and hurried to the source of the noise. A man was bent double in the corner, wiping vomit from his mouth. “Damn!” He muttered through gritted teeth. “I love the coolant from the mako reactor! Just by being by its side, you can feel the Mako Ion radiating!” He burped. “Urp… hold it in… hold it in!” He swallowed hard. “I heard that some of the people above are fine without being exposed to mako. But I'd bathe in it for days and hours if I could. That's why, when my treatment is over, I'll distract myself by bathing in Mako Ion in the cooling water of the Mako Reactor.” He coughed. “The energy that supports this ridiculously huge facility is also supplied by Mako Reactors. Seriously, is it really okay for there to be such an all-purpose energy in the world?! Well, it’s fine by me!” He burst into raucous laughter.

Fujin pursed his lips, trying not to gag at the smell of vomit as he excused himself and headed back towards the eastern sector.

“Hail, P.S.!” A shopkeeper hailed him. “Buy new weapons and modify them right here! ‘Those who control customization control the world.’ Sounds like an exaggeration, but it's not. The ability to customize precisely according to the ever-changing battle situation… Is that what it takes to be a good soldier?” 

Fujin walked over to the woman’s shop and introduced himself. “Nice, are you training? Or is it some kind of mission? I'd love to go on a sortie with you if only I didn't have this mission… Well, I guess that's just the way it is. You'll have to do your best for me.” She held out her hand. “I’m Maki, by the way. Stop by my shop anytime.”

Officer-East hadn’t indicated that missions had a deadline, but a young woman accosted Fujin the moment he entered the eastern sector.

“The schedule said you were going out, but is there some kind of trouble?” Fujin shook his head frantically, but the woman pursed her lips. “Patricia here scans the data of each area.” She gestured to a glowing blue machine on the back wall. “That data is constantly checked by our Monitoring Committee. If there's a problem, I'm supposed to report it to the Restrictor. I'm supposed to report any problems to the Restrictor.” She lowered her voice, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “In emergencies like escapes, we sometimes take extraordinary measures and directly 'hunt' them.” She narrowed her eyes. “I hope you will always make wise choices,” she warned, before stiffening into a salute. “Hail P.S.!”

First let’s do a simple skill test. We placed Mako Capsules in certain places at the church. Find and obtain all the Mako Capsules within the time limit.

As Fujin collected the Mako Capsules in the mission in Kalm, he remembered Hiren’s dream. Sure enough, hidden in a dark corner, he found a pile of small, fluffy seeds. He gathered them in his inventory, and immediately after completing his mission, he ran to the northern sector to show her.

“Ah! Could that be...?” She gently took the pile of seeds, cradling them in her hands. She peered at them closely, then bounced giddily. “I knew it was a seed!” She clutched the seeds to her chest. “Please let me take care of them!” When Fujin nodded, she squealed happily. “Thank you! I'm sure I'll make it bloom! Could you come and check on me from time to time? I think Deepground's technology can make it bloom in a relatively short period of time.”

As promised, Fujin stopped by and visited Hiren every day after he’d completed all his missions. Not even a week had passed before Hiren excitedly announced that the seeds had begun to sprout. “I was worried about whether my way of raising them was correct or not. I was so relieved that I could relax my shoulders. At this rate of growth, it looks like it will flower soon. I'm looking forward to it!”

By the end of the week, Fujin had secured a promotion to Scout. Beaming, Officer-East gave him a shiny silver helmet, the same that he’d seen on many of the soldiers of Deepground. “This mask is proof that you are truly a member of the Deepground,” he explained. “On the battlefield, you'll often find yourself next to opponents wearing the same mask.” 

The officer hesitated, twisting his baton in his hand nervously. “In my position, I should not be giving this kind of advice. It's strange,” he murmured, “I sense something special about you.” He shook his head, stiffening back to attention. “Okay. The comrades who are fighting in this world are not only your helpers, but also your enemies. When the time comes, don't hesitate, comrade or not. Some lives can be saved by doing so. Use your wits and tactics to survive, no matter how tough the situation. Now, if you get it, go.”

Fujin hesitated.

“What's the matter? There should be nothing to hold you back. ‘In Deepground, strength is everything. Victory in battle will prove your ability to survive in Deepground and open new roads to you.’ That's what I taught you, right? Never forget this ironclad rule at any time. Now, go ahead and aim high!”

Fujin shrugged despondently.

“Hmm? You are indeed feeling pressure, aren't you?” Officer-East bent down and whispered in Fujin’s ear, draping his arm across Fujin’s shoulders. “Don't worry. You can do it. I believe that even if no one else believes it.” He gave Fujin a solid pat on the back, then sprang into a professional salute. “Waiting for a good report. Hail P.S.!”

The seeds Hiren was growing were coming along nicely. A handful had died, and Hiren admitted she mourned each shriveled sprout. But a half dozen of them had grown thick yellow buds. “These seeds are also known as ‘airy seeds’ by some people because of the way they dance about in the wind,” she explained. “But I never thought it would grow yellow buds…” She trailed off, then shook her head. “Oh, sorry! I remembered the yellow flower I saw in my dream that time. Anyway… by my calculation, they should bloom soon.”

Almost daily, dazed newcomers were brought to Deepground while familiar faces disappeared. Maki gained three helpers for her shop, but Yumi, Ara, and Eri were discarded one by one. Commanders Wald, Vulcan, and Berg, who once assigned missions alongside Commander Sturm, vanished without a trace. A gaggle of newcomers devoted themselves to becoming “disciples” of Kon, but Void, Magi, and Linden were each discarded, leaving only Emily. 

Unlike Fujin, not every soldier who entered Deepground had their memories wiped on arrival. Several remembered their time aboveground and were eager to share their stories. Everyone who could remember their past remembered the same thing; under the employ of Shinra, they were forced to undergo “treatments”: surgery to activate brain cells, administration of muscle-strengthening drugs, injections of super-microbes of unknown usefulness, mako radiation therapy… Many underwent periods where they lost all functioning as a human being. Though they had regained their faculties, they watched comrades whose bodies recovered, but whose minds never returned.

Commander Da-You proved knowledgeable in strategy and spoke with a distinctive rural drawl. Maybee spoke in vague contradictions; it was difficult to get any accurate information from him, including his rank. A trooper named Carry developed a massive crush on General Iruka, and a week later, a commander named Masso developed a massive crush on Carry. Iruka reciprocated, but it was unclear whether he actually liked Carry or just enjoyed the attention. Carry had, in no uncertain terms, rejected Masso, but the commander refused to take “no” for an answer. Fujin often overheard him muttering about plans for revenge against Iruka. 

Iruka responded in kind, creating mechanical servants using traces of illicitly-obtained Mako Powder. However, the machines were stubborn and difficult to control, so Iruka discarded them, instead focusing his attention on researching a paint named Minagilion Z that made surfaces nearly invulnerable to attack.

The cycle of arrival and elimination created a mosaic of fragmented memories. More important than rank, those who survived Deepground the longest were rewarded with knowledge. Glimpses of the outside world came together to form a larger picture. Hojo, the head of Shinra Science Department, responsible for the Jenova Project. Project G, a subset of the Jenova Project that had led to the creation of Deepground. A man known only as “G”, rumored to be a hero of Deepground, the one to overthrow the restrictors. According to rumor, “G” rejected the pleas of the soldiers of Deepground, instead slumbering in the depths of Midgar for an unknown purpose. 

There were four other heads of Shinra, but the only other one Fujin learned of was the head of Weapons Development, Scarlet. When Soar lived aboveground, he served as her guard. He still had a custom handgun, which he explained was used during the subjugation of Corel Village years ago. 

“She threw it at me, saying ‘Kyahahahaha! Throw it away, it’s broken!’ I was so happy I ran around the Shinra building like a dog,” Soar laughed. “After that, I carried it around every day and tried to see if it could be repaired. Well, as you know, the result was even more useless. But that handgun is full of memories of me and her. But the memories of that person are still alive in me! As long as we live with this joy, Deepground will never die! Hail P.S.!”

One morning, Fujin walked into the eastern sector to be greeted by a puffy yellow flower being shoved into his hands.

“It's finally blooming! That yellow flower I saw in my dream!” Hiren bounced around the room giddily. “It was a very magical experience... When I stared at those yellow flower petals, I felt something warm inside my chest. I've never smelled it before, but it smells so nostalgic and before I knew it, tears were pouring down… I feel like something inside me has changed thanks to my encounter with that flower. I can't quite put my finger on what that is… Am I crazy?”

Fujin shook his head.

Hiren laughed. “Strange, isn't it? I can't believe a soldier who has to kill people with impunity feels this way. Anyway, I found a document at the Deepground Research and Archives with a yellow flower similar to this one! It’s called a ‘dandelion,’ and it symbolizes ‘eternal peace of mind,’ which I found oddly satisfying. This is also a strange story, isn't it? But really, this past week has been full of surprises, thanks to you. Experiences like this are rare down here! Thank you very much! Please cherish that flower.” 

Fujin smiled and tucked the stem of the dandelion into his uniform. 

“What is that!? Let me take a look!”

A woman in a gas mask and a long white lab coat snatched the flower from Fujin’s uniform. She turned the flower over in her hand, inspecting it eagerly, before suddenly thrusting it skyward.

“THIS IS IT! This flower! This is just what I've been searching for!” The researcher stuck the flower up against her mask and inhaled deeply. “Don't know why, but don't you think there's something about it that stinks of the Ancients?” She turned, as if suddenly made aware of Fujin’s presence. “Nice going! Here, take this.” She handed Fujin a mask identical to hers. The scientist bounced giddily on the balls of her feet, giggling uncontrollably. “What experiments should I do with this flower? I'm so excited just thinking about, I might pee my pants!”

Fujin sighed. He clearly wasn’t getting the flower back. 

“If you find any more, bring them to me. I'll try implanting more and more into the bodies of the discarded.” She cackled sinisterly. “Don't you think it's going to be the most beautiful flower bed? I'm making original foliage plants by cutting more and more grown flowers into the Cactuar that I've captured. It looks like it's going to be a nice view,” she snickered. “Experimentation is fine, but with this kind of gardening, I won’t be so bored.”

Shelke the Transparent was in the midst of performing a Synaptic Net Dive; she was lying completely still in her chair with a massive helmet obscuring her face. Light pulsed through wires and tubes connected to the helmet, echoing her path through the digital realm.

Argento stood stiffly at attention at the entrance to the room. “Shelke. The Restrictors are calling. ‘Tis the usual petty errands.”

“I understand.” Shelke made no move to stop the Synaptic Net Dive. An image appeared on the large screen behind her, of the newcomer they called “Fujin” wandering the eastern sector. “What do you think of this one?”

“Well, neither fish nor fowl. But perhaps, if they sharpened their skills, someone who could make it with some luck.”

“I see. So this is how it's going to be from now on.”

“Indeed. This is probably the beginning.”

Chapter Text

As Fujin rose through the ranks of Scout, Officer-East grew increasingly withdrawn, barely speaking a word to Fujin and stammering nervously when he did speak. He barely offered words of congratulations when Fujin was promoted to Trooper.

“I would love to raise my hands and rejoice, but I can't even do that in my position,” he explained. “It is strictly forbidden to have a personal interest in a soldier. If I break the law, I will not get away with it.” He shuddered, frantically glancing between Patricia and the sector entrances, as if expecting a Restrictor to pop out and eliminate him. When none appeared, he took a shaky breath. “Instead of compliments, here is some advice. If you want to go further, don't be arrogant. Focus on each battle in front of you. Is that clear?”

Fujin nodded. He was tempted to offer a comforting pat on the shoulder, but decided against it. 

“Well then, you can come back when you are good enough to deserve the next promotional exam. You've come this far. You know that drones and scouts, no matter how far they go, are still apprentice soldiers. It can be said that the real battle starts after becoming a trooper.”

Soar was the first to congratulate Fujin on his promotion. “You've done it, bro! Rumors of your exploits have reached this far! Well, there is no time to stand still here. We have a long, hard road ahead of us. Let's go! Let us go, my slaughtering angels! Hail P.S.!”

Fujin learned the mako addict in the northern sector was named Jinji. He retched loudly, heaving violently, when Fujin approached, then waved his hand frantically. “I hear you've been on a roll lately! Is it because of the power of mako? Great, great!” He burped, and a bit of vomit dribbled down his chin. “Aah, if there is no mission in sight, I'll go out for ‘Mako Watching’ right away.” Jinji reached into his pocket, then reeled back suddenly in shock. “Whoa!” He patted his uniform frantically. “Shit! My treasured book has been stolen!” He shook Fujin’s shoulders. “ How to get x10 the Enjoyment Out of Mako . My precious book!” Jinji cried. “This has to be the work of that thief Banban-G that people have been talking about. Of course, I wish I could take it back myself, but…” He released Fujin’s shoulders as he retched again.

Curiously, the book wasn’t the only thing missing. Maki’s shop remained closed until Fujin had retrieved Jinji’s book from Banban-G and returned it to its owner. Though when asked, Maki denied any connection, refusing to speak of the thief any further.

She focused instead on Fujin and his accomplishments. “At first, I was really worried about why I should be the one to instruct the newcomers,” Maki admitted. “I'm much more comfortable on the front lines of battle. But from now on,” she took a deep breath. “Yes. I feel like watching over your growth isn't that boring.”

The woman guarding Patricia introduced herself as Cataract. “I don't know why you came here. However, as long as you're here, there's no choice but to follow the rules here regardless of the circumstances. A complete meritocracy is indeed healthy and good. Useless people are disposed of, but those who have achieved success as test subjects will be provided with the appropriate medals and ranks.” She paced around Fujin, pulling up his records on her datapad. “Hmm. You seem to be making good progress. In the future, don't try to get us in trouble.” Fujin nodded his thanks, but as he turned to leave, she suddenly pulled him close and murmured into his ear. “Under the surface, the war has already begun. The day when you will be needed is not far off. Until then, you must perfect yourself as the most powerful killing weapon of all.” She released him, returning to her usual cold demeanor. “Hail P.S.!”

One morning, Fujin walked into the eastern sector to find an unknown officer standing at Officer-East’s post. He faced the wall, clearly speaking over his comms system. “I would not have expected to hear those words from the likes of you. ‘The Finely Honed Path’... It's not a codename one hears often, but needless to say I know it. Then when we have direction from Lady Argento, I shall approve the mission that leads to the Finely Honed Path.”

He noticed Fujin standing nearby, but didn’t seem perturbed by his eavesdropping. “When the instructor for Sector 1 is absent, it falls to me to give direction,” he explained. He laughed darkly and pointed to the opposite end of the atrium.

“F-focus… cus-cus?” Officer-East was trembling, clutching his baton close to his chest as he glanced around the room in a panic. “Don't get into trouble with the Restrictor.”

“That's as good as absent, I suppose.”

The entrance to the sector slid open and a large brute of a man stormed inside, followed by a young girl and a cloaked Restrictor. The officer yanked at Fujin’s arm, pulling him into a kneeling position. The two bowed their heads as the trio passed.

“Tsviets…?” the officer whispered in awe. 

The girl noticed Fujin, and she slowed to a stop before him. Something tickled the back of Fujin’s mind, a strange sense of familiarity. He rose to his feet to greet her.

“H-Hey!” the officer hissed, still on his knees. He grabbed Fujin’s arm and yanked him back down.

The girl stared sternly at Fujin. She reached for the handle of a weapon holstered on her back, then glanced at the Restrictor. “Do we really have time for this?”

The Restrictor responded by wordlessly continuing towards the exit. The girl sheathed her weapon and followed close behind. The moment the trio were out of sight, the officer smacked Fujin in the arm. 

“What were you thinking?” he scolded. “There are countless soldiers who have been punished for ruining a Restrictor's mood.” He sighed as he rose to his feet. “That’s right, this is also the first time you’ve ever seen the Tsviets, isn’t it?” 

Fujin nodded. 

“Tsviets, that’s the title for the strongest rank here. And above even that, only the most exceptional soldiers are assigned a color. Those two who passed by just now both hold that rank. The one in the lead was Azul the Cerulean,” he explained. “How many years has it been since he was thrown down here? He was promoted to Tsviet in the blink of an eye. The researchers must be very pleased. His obsession with strength is unusually strong.” The officer straightened his posture, puffing out his chest. “He is the kind of soldier that symbolizes Deepground.”

“The one behind him,” he continued, “was Shelke the Transparent. She is special in that the color given to her is not a color at all. Although,” he muttered, “the meaning behind that is beyond me. Also, her appearance belies her age. She’s been in Tsviets since before I became a SOLDIER here.” He ran his fingers idly over his baton contemplatively. “There are certain other notable soldiers with color epithets. Rosso the Crimson, Nero the Sable, Weiss the Immaculate. All three of them have been designated as SSS-Class here in Deepground. If you see any of them, I recommend that you run for your life without a second thought.”

Officer-East visibly relaxed as soon as the Tsviets and the Restrictor had left. He clutched his baton to his chest as if his life depended on it, but he let out a relieved sigh at the sight of Fujin.

“If we had met somewhere other than here, things might have turned out very differently for us...” Officer-East caught himself and shook his head. “No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have spoken like this. Come on, keep moving forward. It is only when you go through countless scenes of bloodshed that you gain true self-confidence. To become a full-fledged soldier, you have to go through a certain number of experiences. This is the last test I can present to you. You will perform your duty with all your might. Your... No, I believe you will accomplish the mission.”

Fujin noticed Commander Sturm shuffle nervously. Do the Restrictors know…?

Two men in dark uniforms strolled the sector, and Officer-East called Fujin over and pointed to them. “Those Soldiers became Tsviets earlier.  However, that is not to say that they have reached the top. They'll have to work even harder to become the strongest from here on. However, the enemies they face will become even more powerful and numerous.”

The two Tsviet soldiers readied their weapons as the virtual meadow materialized around them. Far above, Azul the Cerulean peered down at the duo from a rocky outcropping.

“Those two over there… Is it acceptable to destroy them?”

There was a long moment of silence over the comm before Shelke responded. “There should be no problem with that.”

“What is their rank?”

“Both of them are Tsviets.”

Azul smirked. He leapt from the cliff, landing behind the two men, who swung around, guns raised, to face him. “Fellow Tsviets, let’s kill each other to our heart’s content, shall we?” With that, he unleashed a guttural yell and began his onslaught.

The two men were tough; it was clear they had worked hard to reach the rank of Tsviet. But they were no match for Azul the Cerulean. The colored Tsviet eagerly tore the two men apart, tossing their limp bodies around like ragdolls, laughing maniacally the whole time.

“They call this Tsviet?” Azul scoffed at the two bodies splayed on the ground before him. “How boring… This isn't nearly enough to sate me.” He turned and walked away. “Next…”

Fujin watched in horror at Azul’s carnage. His heart pounded as he crouched deeper into the bushes, praying the brute wouldn’t notice him watching. 

“What? You’re doing this mission too?”

Fujin nearly leapt out of his skin. He whirled around and aimed his rifle at the voice. A familiar face grinned down at him: it was the redheaded SOLDIER from Fujin’s first day in Deepground.

“Oh, right,” he chuckled, unbothered by the gun pointed at his nose, “I haven’t introduced myself yet. The name's Usher. Pleased to meet you while you're still alive.”

The longer Fujin looked at Usher, the more his head began to pound. He clutched at his head as a voice echoed from the depths of his memory.

“Wooow! You're really going to join SOLDIER, big brother? Then I can feel safe…”

The small bespectacled girl from his memory was lying face-down on the ground, flames licking her hands and feet as the fire drew closer to her helpless body. A cloaked figure loomed behind her.

“Big brother… Save me…”

A gunshot ripped through the air, piercing Fujin’s chest and jolting him out of his stupor. He stumbled to the ground, his chest burning in agony. The world was too harsh, too bright, the blinding pain forcing the jungle into sharp focus. He rolled over to face his attacker.

The long cloak of a Restrictor fluttered past his face. The boot beneath nudged his side, sending another jolt of pain through his body.

“Hmph. What’s this, the bait?”

The Restrictor turned to walk away, but Fujin reached out suddenly, grabbing hold of the Restrictor’s right ankle.

The Restrictor froze in a brief moment of surprise, then quickly regained his composure. In one fluid motion, he kicked Fujin square in the center of his bleeding chest, launching him across the arena with impossible force.

“Defective, huh? Do you wish to be eliminated?” The Restrictor sneered, trudging through the underbrush towards Fujin, who was desperately fighting to stand. 

A guttural yell erupted from the trees as Azul threw a powerful punch at the distracted Restrictor. The man didn’t so much as flinch, simply holding up his hand to stop Azul’s fist.

“Oh, you're still alive?” he sneered. “I came to confirm that, but-” 

Azul roared and drew back for another punch. The Restrictor calmly raised his hand, and Azul’s body glowed as a strange energy froze him in place.

“Halt.” 

Azul grunted in frustration, quivering uselessly as he tried to break free of his magical restrictions. The Restrictor laughed. “How futile. You might be a Tsviet. But you're still a Deepground soldier. As long as you are here, trying to defy us, the Restrictors, is pointless.”

The Restrictor lowered his hand, but Azul was still unable to move. “How many years has it been since you successfully underwent the Metamorphosis Experiment?” He calmly paced around his captive. “That power. Shinra… No, the President has use for it. So go ahead, continue your desperate struggle to stay alive.” He turned and walked away, leaving Azul in his paralyzed state.

“Yo.”

Fujin pushed himself to his feet, leaning on a boulder for support as he turned to see Usher emerge from the bushes.

“You still alive after taking that kicking from the Restrictor? Grabbing his leg like that was just crazy. Didn't I tell you that they're absolute down here? Ordinary soldiers are like grains of sand to them, not worth paying attention to. That’s why, there is no need to feel sad when we die, they simply throw us away and forget us…”

Fujin secured a bandage around his middle and pulled a potion from his bag. Sipping the tonic, he glanced over at Azul, who was still frozen in place.

“It seems that this mission was meant to test the prowess of the Tsviets. We are his prey,” Usher surmised. “Azul the Cerulean. As the color given to him implies, he's a Tsviet. One of the elite here. Still, being a Deepground soldier, there's nothing he can do against the Restrictors.”

Usher turned to Fujin, giving him a strange look he couldn’t quite decipher. “Well, with some luck you'll live. Good luck and godspeed.”

Through hard work and intense focus on his missions, Fujin quickly ascended the ranks to become Commander.

“Do you mind if I tell you?” Officer-East bounced eagerly on the balls of his feet. “No, I have to tell you. I am endlessly happy right now! In this sinful world where we are forced to keep winning, I never thought I could feel like this... Congratulations on your promotion to Commander! As long as you survive the killing and continue to live, I swear I will not leave this place and will continue to watch over you. No matter what. Hail P.S.!”

Fujin’s promotion coincided with Deepground’s yearly festival, so the lobby was abuzz with activity. Officer-North vehemently reminded everyone to bring him seasonal Mako candies in exchange for tantalizing rewards, to prevent the candies from falling into the hands of Mako-addicted scout Jinji. The previous year, Jinji had consumed so many Mako candies he had started vomiting, and even a year later cycled between vomiting from overconsumption of Mako and vomiting from withdrawal from Mako. 

This year, nobody could find Jinji. A moogle plush rested in his usual spot, and rumors spread that if you listened closely, the toy would retch and gag in the same way Jinji once had. More puzzlingly, a Black Widow mech was hauled into the back hallway leading to the northern sector. This mech spoke, calling itself “Black-J,” and it greeted people like a carnival busker, calling “come one, come all!” 

Commander Genza, though glad to be relieved of the constant retching, theorized Este-D, the researcher who was so eager to experiment on Hiren’s yellow flower, was responsible for Jinji’s fate. It seemed the oversight committee had the same ideas. 

“Oh my God! How good it would feel to blow a hole in my skull right now and scrape out my brain! I heard that none of the labs are open, but with how big this place is, that can’t be true.” Fujin stumbled across Este-D verbally tearing into Cataract one morning. “Yes, I'm talking about my own private lab! I just want to be in an environment where no one can spearhead me. That way, even more research on ancient pseudo-cells…”

Cataract coolly ignored Este-D’s demands. The researcher fumed, but it was clear she was running out of steam. “Living bioweapon? …Gene manipulation?…Biomechanical engineering...?” She huffed, having expended what remained of her energy on her tantrum with no response from Cataract. “Whatever!” Este-D stormed off.

It was rare to find a Deepground researcher who had any semblance of a conscience. The closest Fujin could find to an ethical researcher was Ljungbery, an avian specialist who requested a merciful death for his specimens after they had escaped the lab and been exposed to toxic substances. But the birds dropped women’s earrings as they returned to the Lifestream, and Fujin wondered how many of the creatures were soldiers he once knew.

Fujin has also lost favor with Hiren after defeating her in battle. He had won her Nouvelle Mask - a useful and rather stylish item. But despite winning the prize fair and square, Hiren became enraged anytime she saw him in “her” mask.

The oppression of the Restrictors and the high standards of the Tsviets still loomed over Deepground like a dark cloud, but as Fujin learned more about the people around him, the darkness faded into the background, no more noticeable than the mechanical hum of the electrical grid powering Patricia. 

But, when the festivals ended, when the mission log was complete, and Fujin laid down in his bed at the end of the night to rest, her voice echoed in his nightmares, her crumpled body, her shattered glasses, the cloaked figure looming over her broken body as she cried out to him.

“Big brother!”

Fujin fell into a routine, enjoying the petty squabbles and quaint personality quirks of his peers. But ambition fueled him, and he quickly ascended the ranks. The more he grew, the more he learned, the more he realized how little he knew about Deepground. His ignorance unsettled him.

He had not seen Azul the Cerulean or Shelke the Transparent since their appearance in the eastern sector months before. But a mission deep in the bowels of Deepground’s research facilities introduced him to another of the colored Tsviets.

The man was chained to a central pillar, his face covered, arms crossed in front of his torso, bound by countless shackles. He had pitch black hair, its erratic wisps echoing the tendrils of darkness emerging from his bound form. The energy undulated and pulsed, like thick gaseous tentacles snaking from the man’s body into pools of darkness surrounding him.

“We seem to be destined to run into each other, don't we?”

Fujin stifled a scream as he whirled around to find Usher grinning cheekily at him. “Isn't it said that ‘If you gaze into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you’?” Usher nodded at the bound man. “Nero the Sable. He can engulf almost anything in his darkness, and draw it back out again. And because of the danger he poses, they keep him shackled like this.”

Usher gestured for Fujin to step into the hall, away from Nero’s prison. He pulled a datapad from his pocket and tapped the screen, enlarging an image of a man clad in a dark, stylish cloak. “This is from about a decade ago, from the research left by a scientist named Grimoire-something. According to him, the Lifestream's stagnation will give birth to a special life form. The scientists here believed in his theory. So they injected the stagnation into unborn children. Though they had absolutely no idea of how it would turn out.” He laughed darkly. “Don't you think it's the spitting image of the Jenova Project? Out of the hundreds of experiments they performed, he was the only successful one. Well,” he laughed, “it's pretty much the same with all of those who bear epithets of color. The only successful cases out of countless experiments…”

Usher crept back into the room, peering at Nero like a zoo animal chained purely for the amusement of onlookers. “As for his mother, it seems that she was engulfed by Nero’s darkness when he was born. A mother of exceptional fertility, so I hear,” he smirked, “as she was also the mother of the Immaculate Emperor. Black and white. Brothers, though perfect opposites. The older brother has been given the title of Emperor, being the strongest Tsviet in the history of Deepground.”

Usher leaned closer to Fujin, his eyes glimmering hungrily. His voice dropped, so low it was barely more than a whisper. “Did you know? Although the Immaculate Emperor Weiss is very strong, his power and strength is being controlled. Unless it's time for an experiment, he sits chained to his throne deep inside Mako Reactor 0 in the center of Deepground. On top of that, a time limited virus will be released into his body if the Restrictors' signals ever were to disappear. Then he'd only have three days left before he dies… Honestly, they sure didn't spare any effort.”

Without warning, Nero suddenly writhed, screaming in agony. “Brother!!” He screamed again, his voice cracking from the strain. Tendrils of darkness shot out from his body, slamming against the far walls. Fujin turned to run, but one tendril caught him by the ankle, dragging him towards Nero as it snaked up his leg, ensnaring him… 

“If you join SOLDIER, you'll protect us, won't you, big brother?”

The girl ran through the darkness, which morphed and pulsed behind her, an ominous, shapeless figure pursuing her.

“Big brother!!”

“Brother…” Another voice echoed, a young man’s voice. “Where… Brother…”

“Here…” A second male voice responded. “Nero…”

“Are you all right? You look a bit pale.”

Fujin squinted, the warehouse light practically blinding after such encompassing darkness. He glanced around; there was no sign of Nero or his darkness. Instead, Usher was crouched beside Fujin, a half-empty potion in hand.

“There's no helping it. A moment is all it takes for darkness to touch you. His darkness will reach into the very depths of your soul. It feels like death itself. It's said that it can bring back all kinds of memories, even ones that you'd rather forget.” Usher leaned in close and whispered in Fujin’s ear. “What did you see?”

The encounter with Nero had left what felt like a gaping hole in Fujin’s mind. Nothing was missing; in fact, his memories of his sister felt clearer than they ever had before. It felt more like a door was left open in his head, waiting for someone—or something—to enter.

Este-D hadn’t stopped in her crusade for a private lab. Fujin found her nagging Cataract again. “Because of ‘another accident’? I'm really pissed off. I'm sure I've had many accidents. But so what? Experiments involve sacrifice, right? And how many test subjects die, hm? At least let me use the bioreactor at my leisure…” When Cataract walked away without responding, Este-D turned to Fujin with a huff. “Ah, thank you for waiting. That flower you brought me a while ago… The seeds were free of any reactions to mako pollution. I'd like to experiment by immersing it in various concentrations of mako culture solution. If a plant-based new mutant is born, I'll definitely apply for my own lab!” She rubbed her hands together eagerly. “Ah, while you’re here, let me borrow your brain for a minute.”

Before Fujin could respond, Este-D slammed her fist into his forehead. He staggered backwards, stars sparkling in his eyes before he stumbled and fell into darkness.

“How drab…” 

Rosso the Crimson leaned forward sullenly, peering over the edge of the cliff at the dizzyingly tall waterfall, which carved through layer after layer of rock far below. She let out a dramatic sigh.

“Rosso.” A voice called from behind. “The people in the research facility are looking for you.” Rosso ignored Shelke, continuing to gaze down at the waterfall. “Rosso?”

Rosso huffed impatiently, twirling around in a fluid motion and slicing her blade through the air. Shelke leapt out of the way, narrowly avoiding the blow. 

“Again?” She sighed and reached for her blades.

Rosso twirled her weapon indignantly, sneering down her nose at Shelke. “I’m tired of fighting with you. Besides, using your Transparence tires you out, doesn't it?” She sheathed her blades, trudging back to the outlook overlooking the waterfall. She turned her gaze to the sky. “Hey, Shelke…”

“What is it?”

“Have you ever gone on any missions outside?”

“No,” Shelke answered flatly. “My body is not suited for long-term operations.”

“I suppose you’re right. But didn’t you live outside before you came here?”

“Yes.”

“Ever since I was born, this is the only kind of scenery I've ever seen. An artificial sky… Real yet fake. Just once, I want to see the world outside… Why won't they let me out?” 

She finally tore her gaze from the waterfall, instead peering at the rest of the grassland around her. Bodies littered the grass like a trail of breadcrumbs leading to a stone courtyard. Each body was expertly flayed, sliced open by Rosso’s blade. 

Shelke didn’t answer, instead letting the carnage speak for itself.

“Fine then,” Rosso sniffed. “I’ll simply kill everyone in here and let myself out.”

Fujin rolled over and groaned. He squinted as the floor morphed between artificial grass and cold metal. His sister reached out to him… no, not his sister. Shelke the Transparent closed his eyes. Not his eyes, but the eyes of one of Rosso’s victims. Fujin rolled back onto his back, swallowing hard to keep the contents of his stomach inside him as he tried to determine which vision was reality.

“Ah, you're awake.” Este-D bent double over Fujin’s supine form, her gas mask inches from his nose. “Now then, what did you see? What did you see? Can you hear me?! Answer!”

When Fujin didn’t respond immediately, Este-D folded her arms and shook her head. “What a pain. The point of this experiment is to extract data from the vacant brain through a direct connection. You really didn't see anything?”

Fujin opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He simply gaped dumbly at Este-D, his mind as sluggish as if trying to drag itself through thick mud. “Oh well,” Este-D shrugged, “at least you were able to regain consciousness. Others have their brains broken-” Este-D laughed. “Nevermind that. It’s nothing.”

The dreams grew far more vivid over the next few weeks. Fujin could see every detail of his sister’s face, her short red hair, the way her round glasses rested on her small, pointed nose, the thin yellow jacket she always wore over her white dress.

He remembered her smile, her laugh. 

He remembered her weak sobs, her crumpled body, the burst of gunfire, the heat of the flames.

“Big…brother… It hurts… Save…me…”

“Eh? What?” 

Officer-East’s nervous tone snapped Fujin out of his musing. He glanced over at the officer, who was facing the wall with a comms device against his ear.

“Aye, aye, I understand.” He hung up and turned to Fujin. “Re… Re…” he gulped. “A m-message fr-from the great and the fearsome ones.  They have something for you.  They have summoned you… If there ar-aren’t any problems, they w-would like to have you participate in an up-upcoming mission… Hail P.S.!! And thank you very much…”

Fujin watched in horror as the woman in scarlet impaled a fellow Deepground soldier with her blade. She twisted the weapon cruelly before yanking it out, and the corpse fell limply to the ground. 

“Splendid reaction.” The woman giggled, then burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. 

“Rosso the Crimson…” Fujin nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Usher whispering beside him. How does he manage to keep sneaking up on me like that? “Bloodstained, Undying, Annihilator. The Crimson Abomination. She is known by many names. She's one of the worst, and not just among the Tsviets.”

Rosso began to pace around the scattered bodies. Fujin’s heart raced, praying she wouldn’t spot him. He realized in horror if she found them, there were very few places they could flee.

“Close to immortal, a soldier created to draw out mankind's hidden potential,” Usher continued, seemingly oblivious to the danger. “You can see why they would call her an abomination.” He gestured to the corpses scattered across the ground. “It doesn't matter to her whether it's friend or foe, and it's not a pretty way to die. All the experiments have left her emotionally unstable. She only feels content when bathed in blood. Though that's not exactly a problem in Deepground. To grow stronger and stronger has become the sole purpose of her existence…”

Fujin peeked around the crate, hoping to get a better vantage on Rosso. But when he peered at the spot she was pacing, she wasn’t there.

“Found you…”

The attack came from behind. He felt the blade slice through his spine, his vision darkening immediately as all feeling left his body.

“Big…brother… It hurts… Save…me…”

“Mission complete.” The Restrictor nodded in satisfaction at the sight of the bloodshed wrought by Rosso. “The scientists should be pleased with the results.” The air beside him rippled, and the Restrictor calmly lifted his blade to block Rosso’s. “What are you up to?” 

“Let's play a little.” Rosso leapt back and readied her weapon, before rushing forward with a vicious yell. “Restrictor!!”

The Restrictor leapt back, folding his cloak in midair and tucking it beneath his armor before landing nimbly on the ground. He pulled out twin guns, firing on either side of Rosso, creating a narrow corridor of safety.

She took the bait, screeching angrily as she rushed forward, blade drawn. The Restrictor flicked his wrist, thrusting his blade through her stomach. Rosso bent double, gasping in pain, then collapsed to the ground. The Restrictor planted his boot squarely on her back, pinning her to the ground. “Hmph, need a hand?”

“Re…stri…ctor!!” No matter how Rosso struggled, she could not wriggle free from beneath the Restrictor’s boot.

Usher’s voice whispered beside Fujin as he watched the events unfold. “It's time for you to sleep now.”

“Big brother!”

Chapter Text

“Oh!” Officer-East nervously tried to get Fujin’s attention as he returned to the eastern lobby. “Th-That's right. There's an assignment for you, honored General, sir. Patricia is undergoing emergency repair. It seems to have been forced to do some impossible task. I’ve heard that a group of people are blocking the way. It would be greatly appreciated if you decided to participate. Hail P.S.!! And thank you very much…”

In all the missions Fujin had undertaken to reach the rank of General, he had never been to this section of Deepground. Cables stretched across the ceilings and stacks of boxes provided cover for enemy soldiers and Black Widow mechs. Fujin started down the hall, eliminating foes as he went.

“Get started.”

Fujin recognized the voice of a Restrictor. Curiosity getting the better of him, he crept to the doorway and peeked into the room.

Shelke the Transparent sat before a large array of monitors, a strange helmet resting on her head. A Restrictor stood idly nearby. His cloak was folded into baggy black pants, tucked into tall black boots, and he wore a short black coat that exposed his pale, bare torso. Without his long cloak, the Restrictor appeared unnervingly casual. Vulnerable, Fujin realized.

“Finished.” Shelke slowly lifted the helmet from her head.

“Impressive as always,” the Restrictor lauded. “This shapeless place has formed you well, Transparent. Speaking of which, this would be the perfect time to test your prowess. The Mako levels should be at their highest here. Show me the strength of the Transparent.” He chuckled. “Kill that General over there.”

Fujin’s heart dropped to his stomach. There was no reason to hide anymore. He stepped out of the shadows.

“It should be nothing for someone with a color to her name.” The Restrictor nodded at Shelke, then turned to Fujin. “You over there,” he sneered, “at least try to put up a struggle.”

“How trifling,” Shelke muttered under her breath.

The Restrictor sharply kicked Shelke in the stomach, and she collapsed on the floor. “What's that?” He planted his boot firmly on Shelke’s middle. “Are you talking back to me?”

But Shelke didn’t look at the Restrictor pinning her down. Instead, she was staring intently at Fujin. The look in her eyes… she looks just like… 

“Big brother…”

He was blind with rage. Fujin whipped out his gun before he could even process what he was doing, but the Restrictor was faster. In a flash, the Restrictor was before him, his gloved hand squeezing Fujin’s face painfully. The Restrictor thrust him backwards and slammed his head against the stone wall. Fujin cried out in pain, clawing at the hand pressing against his cheekbones.

“Who do you think you are to point your gun at me? Another defect,” the Restrictor muttered, squeezing Fujin’s face painfully.

“I will do it.”

“Hm?” The Restrictor briefly loosened his grip as he turned to face Shelke.

“Didn’t you want to test my prowess?”

The Restrictor chuckled and threw Fujin across the room. “Then show me the strength of the Transparent of the Tsviets.”

Shelke stood beside Fujin, pacing around him as he struggled to stand. “Stand up. Do like Restrictor said. Fight back a little.”

Fujin’s body pulsed with energy, and he took the opportunity to activate his Limit Break. He stood, the energy surging, building, rising…

Just as suddenly, the energy was gone.

“Countertek.” Shelke’s eyes glowed, the same color as the energy that had been his moments before. “When I activate this, all techniques become useless. Sometimes, their target can even be changed. Like this.” Multiple glowing copies of Shelke materialized from the glowing ring, all thrusting their blades into Fujin’s side. An immense pain surged through his body, which was paralyzed by the attack’s electrical current. “However, it consumes a lot of magical power. But I am able to use it here in this facility due to the high concentration of Mako.” All he could do was watch as Shelke twisted her blade coldly. The nine copies merged into one, her glowing blade the only thing keeping Fujin upright. She withdrew her weapon, and Fujin collapsed.

“Oh, so you're alive after all.” 

Fujin groaned. He tried to push himself upright, but the act made his head spin.

“I found you lying among the rest of the offal. I was out looking for a new specime- I mean, I was out for a walk.” Fujin laughed weakly; he’d never been so glad to see Este-D’s masked face. 

“Then this strange, but somehow familiar guy showed up and said, ‘This one's still alive,’ and just walked away. And you did look like a perfect test subje…” Este-D stammered, trying to stop herself from finishing her sentence. “Anyway! I ended up dragging you all the way here. It's amazing you're still alive with all those wounds. It's either a miracle or someone did it on purpose.”

Recovery from his injuries was agonizingly slow and painful. The pain made it more of a struggle to complete his missions, but the cold expression on Shelke’s face as she impaled his side was burned into Fujin’s heart, rage fueling his performance.

Medical treatment fell not to Este-D, but to a new researcher named Renlen. She judged the progress of Fujin’s recovery by his performance in a series of missions. “Uhh… What was it, again? Oh right, so in this event, you have to snipe down the Cactuars running around. Put your heart and soul into it. If you can hit them all within the time limit, you’re like, the national champion or something.”

Renlen didn’t bother to follow up on Fujin’s progress, but the exercise alone was enough to strengthen Fujin again. He felt well enough to tackle another mission against Banban-G. This time, the thief had stolen the Distorted Terashima, a sleek prototype machine gun.

Having sought out Banban-G to retrieve Jinji’s book, locating the thief was simple. But to Fujin’s surprise, when the thief turned to face him, he recognized her face. “Maki!? But you… the thief-”

“Hm, did you come here chasing him? I’m going to track him down right away, though.” Maki nudged Fujin’s arm. “Try and catch him if you can!” 

Fujin stood in disbelief as the very thief he had been tracking stood before him, holding the stolen gun as she strategized how she planned to catch the thief. Fujin noticed the Distorted Terashima had been modified; it was larger, with extra accessories equipped. Maki turned to Fujin with a smile.

“This old administrative building was shut down and abandoned for some reason. But the security bots are still rumbling around. Sounds like a perfect place to try out a rifle with as large a magazine as the Maxima, huh?” She chuckled, clutching the upgraded gun against her as she sped into the building.

Fujin couldn’t make heads or tails of what had happened during the mission. After failing to rationalize it on his own, he headed to the northern sector to confront Maki.

She wasn’t at her shop, instead lounging casually against the wall. Instead of her uniform, she was clad in a thief’s outfit. She glared at Fujin as he entered the sector. “I want a face-to-face battle with you. If I lose, I’ll wash my hands off my thieving ways. If I win, I’ll take your most important possession.” Maki—Banban-G—smirked. “That is, your pride.”

Eliminating Banban-G was the final mission before Fujin’s final promotion.

“Wooow!” Officer-East clutched his baton. “I-I see. Your lordship has also reached the rank of Tsviet. Wooow. Such an achievement! You, take over the world! Hmm? As expected, you are also feeling the pressure? Don't worry. You can do it. I believe that even if no one else believes it. Well, I'm waiting for a good report. There is no longer a test to which I can refer you. But the depths of the Deepground are deeper than we realize.”

“I almost forgot, you are now eligible for a special mission. One only available to Tsviets. You may now choose to challenge the great and mighty Immaculate Emperor. Will you undertake the special mission?”

“Did you do it?” Fujin tilted his head curiously.

“Hm? Me? Well, of course, I too had the opportunity when I became a Tsviet.” He caught Fujin’s gaze and shook his head furiously. “Of course it’s frightening!  But at the end I survived by running from the beginning to the end. But you seem capable. Some soldiers are quarantined here because of their unique powers. It means that you have only stepped slightly to the ‘other side’. The real battle will be from here on out. I can no longer help you in any way, but I sincerely wish you success.”

Deep in Mako Reactor 0, Weiss awakened. He grinned as he spotted two shiny new swords embedded in the ground before him. Argento’s handiwork, no doubt. He moved to stand, but something tugged at his bare arms and neck. 

Weiss turned his gaze to the cloaked man standing by the entrance. “Restrictor, won't you release these shackles?”

“What if I wanted you to do this with a handicap?” The Restrictor chuckled.

“Let's see if that will really be necessary. Moreover, I want to try out my new swords.”

“How childish,” the Restrictor scoffed. “Let’s hurry up and be done with it.” He raised a hand, and the shackles binding Weiss disintegrated. 

Weiss smirked and yanked his swords from the floor before him. “Then let us begin.”

Fujin was led deep into the bowels of Deepground, deeper than the research facility where he had found Nero, deeper than he had gone before. The path led to a vast open space filled with pools of bright green mako. A throne sat in the center of the room, tubes snaking from the ceiling to connect to a set of open metal shackles.

Standing before the throne, twin blades raised, was Weiss the Immaculate. The name befit the man, his pale bare torso and wild white hair reflecting the glow of the mako, giving his form an almost ethereal quality.

Fujin understood instantly why Officer-East had fled the battle. Weiss the Immaculate was a relentless foe, possessing unimaginable strength and speed. In the face of such skill, Fujin felt not like a Tsviet, but like a Drone. No, he moaned as Weiss’s blade pierced his side once more, like a child. An infant, even. Another blow sent him sprawling forward, thudding face-first on the ground. Before he could regain his footing, a boot pressed into the square of his back, pinning him to the ground helplessly.

“You will be avenged.” 

The remark was barely a whisper. Weiss grabbed Fujin by the back of the neck and tossed him aside like a limp ragdoll.

“Today’s addition went farther then usual.” 

“That’s because it’s becoming harder for people to become Tsviets. Next, I have a little experiment prepared for you.” The Restrictor snapped his fingers and the door slid open. Rosso the Crimson and Azul the Cerulean strode into the room. “As per your wishes, a handicapped match against your fellow colors.”

“Don't worry,” Weiss taunted the two colored Tsviets standing before him. “I'll go easy on you.”

Rosso and Azul surged forward in unison, flanking Weiss. The Immaculate Emperor calmly summoned a ball of energy and fired it at Azul, knocking the brute back. He reached out and grabbed Rosso’s arm before her blade could strike him.

“Take this, Rosso!” With a flick of his wrist, Weiss threw Rosso back. “Come at me for real. I'm only getting warmed up.”

Rosso screamed, her body glowing as she surged with energy. Azul snarled and metamorphosed into his beastly form. 

“Weiss!” Rosso screamed in rage.

“Have at me. Make this at least a little bit amusing.”

Azul roared, and Rosso used the power she’d gathered to create two illusory clones. Even four against one, Weiss barely broke a sweat. He split into illusory copies himself, his clones sparring with Rosso’s while the original form stabbed the bestial Azul in the neck.

“What's the matter? Tired already?” He taunted. He yanked the blade out of Azul’s neck as Rosso’s clones merged into one again. 

Weiss broke into a wide grin and readied his blades.

The clash of steel and flashes of energy made Fujin’s head pound. He squeezed his eyes shut as he struggled to stand, fighting the overwhelming pain surging through his body.

“You have the memories of a past before you came here, haven’t you?”

Fujin turned, panting heavily. Shelke the Transparent was not participating in the fight against Weiss. Instead, she calmly approached Fujin, her blades resting at her sides. She turned her gaze to the Restrictor, who was eagerly watching the fight unfold. “Do you remember that man?”

“Big brother, if you join SOLDIER, you'll be able to protect us all, right?” Fujin moaned as the memory of his sister’s death flooded his mind. “Big brother! Big…brother… It hurts. Save…me…” He could only observe helplessly as the cloaked figure of a Restrictor loomed over his sister. “Big…brother…”

“Do you remember now? Restrictors will use any means to gather new candidates. You had something important taken from you before you came here, didn't you?”

Fujin took a deep breath, anger burning in his heart. He pushed himself to his feet.

“Despite his strength, not even Weiss can touch the Restrictors.” Fujin turned; instead of Shelke by his side, he found Usher. “That's because it has nothing to do with strength, but rather with a restriction imposed on all Deepground soldiers. Everyone who's brought here has a chip implanted into their brain stem. And that's why no one can disobey the Restrictors' orders.” Usher turned. His eyes, usually a piercing blue, were now glowing orange. “But you? You can stand up to a Restrictor, grab his leg, even point a gun at him. You know what to do. Listen to your feelings.”

Fujin nodded resolutely. He loaded his gun, taking slow, deliberate steps to stand behind the Restrictor, whose gaze was fixed firmly on Weiss’s battle. Fujin locked eyes with the Emperor.

“Do it!” Weiss shouted. 

Fujin pulled the trigger. But where the Restrictor was moments before, the bullet whizzed through empty space. The Restrictor’s punch connected with Fujin’s jaw, knocking him to the ground. The Restrictor coolly bent down and picked up Fujin’s weapon, turning it and aiming the muzzle at Fujin’s chest.

Weiss chuckled darkly. The Restrictor glanced over to find Weiss gathering energy, his body glowing bright blue. “Huh? What?” He raised his hand. “Halt!!”

Weiss’s body trembled as he fought against the energy binding him in place. “Let me… join you… won't you, Restrictor?” The Restrictor took a nervous step back as Weiss jerked his right arm, his blade quivering as he inched closer to his foe. “Heh, you’ll be a goner if your restriction is this weak…” The Restrictor raised both hands, clenching his fists and reinforcing the binds holding Weiss. It wasn’t enough; Weiss’s muscles rippled as he dragged himself ever closer to the Restrictor. “Come, finish it!”

Fujin quickly reached down and grabbed his gun. In a single fluid motion, he aimed the weapon square at the Restrictor’s back and fired.

“I-Impossible.” The Restrictor staggered weakly. “Don’t underestimate me!” He twisted around and thrust a blade into Fujin’s stomach.

Fujin spluttered, blood dribbling down his chin. His body thudded to the floor.

But in the split second the Restrictor turned away from Weiss, the Immaculate broke free of the Restrictor’s bonds. He thrust both blades through the Restrictor’s chest.

“Y-You…” The Restrictor gasped weakly. “if you do this, the virus inside you will…”

“Don't spout such nonsense. Wasn't it you people who said that death is always by your side?” Weiss burst into laughter as the world dissolved around Fujin.

“Can this one still be of any use?” Weiss nudged the body of the fallen Tsviet with his toe.

“Negative. The prolonged SND has rendered most of the brain inaccessible. It's only a matter of time before it breaks down completely.”

“Really?” Rosso sneered. “And after all that hard work. What a shame.”

“Then hurry up and find a suitable replacement,” Weiss ordered. “After all, no one knows what the Restrictors really look like.” He twitched slightly at a slight pinch of pain deep within his body.

“So we have to find another one? This is becoming frustrating,” Azul growled.

“There’s nothing we can do,” Weiss spoke through gritted teeth, the pain slowly spreading through his body, “since only one out of a hundred can make it through here.”

“Ordinary humans simply aren't as strong as we are,” Rosso added.

“Precisely,” Weiss agreed.

“Well, it's actually quite simple.” Shelke turned to Weiss. “With the help of the HJ Virus, I am able to hack into Patricia and bypass security. Then all that's needed is to pick a suitable subject before it's implanted with the chip.”

“Shelke, find a new one quickly,” Weiss ordered. But even as he said it, he knew it was futile.

Three days. It wasn’t enough time.

Shelke peered down at the fallen Tsviet. His chest was rising and falling, too rapidly and shallowly to move any oxygen. “Now then, time to terminate the subject's SND.”

The Tsviet groaned, his eyes fixed on the hologram of the SOLDIER Shelke had created. His gaze turned to her instead, and she sensed through the Synaptic Net Dive that he was thinking of the young girl from his memories.

“That's right, there's one thing I should tell you.” Shelke leaned down. “You have no sister.” The Tsviet’s eyes unfocused, the glassy sheen of death like a shroud, the color fading from his face as he breathed his last. “Well then, thank you for your hard work. Farewell.”

Chapter Text

Meteor descended upon the city of Midgar, its glowing base bursting forth through the dark clouds overhead. Flashes of lightning illuminated the Sister Ray, the cannon still aimed northward at a foe that had already been defeated. A medical helicopter descended in the courtyard of Sector 8 as men and women in uniform scurried about on the cobblestone below. 

“Come on! Hurry up! And try not to drop anybody this time!” 

Yuffie Kisaragi watched as three men loaded the stretcher onto the helicopter. Once the unconscious man was safely aboard, she turned to a man in bright yellow firefighting gear. “Report!”

“Evac complete.” The man saluted. “All injured have been moved to the transports.”

“Okay!” Yuffie waved her hands, signaling the all-clear to the surrounding helicopters. “Let’s get outta here! Just remember to keep on guard until you’re clear of the red zone!” She pulled her goggles away from her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief, then pulled out her comms unit. “We’re all done here. How about you?”

“Finished,” Vincent Valentine growled from the other end. “But Yuffie, I want you to check the mako cannon.”

“But we already…” Yuffie held up the scanner in her hand and switched it on. To her surprise, it detected a single life sign high atop the cannon. “What the…?” 

“Just as I thought.”

“Hold on! Hold on!” Yuffie protested. “This is crazy. There’s no way anybody could be up there. No!”

“Yuffie. Rendezvous with Cloud and the others,” Vincent ordered. “It looks like I still have some work to do.”

“Hey, whoa!” But Vincent had already hung up. She turned her gaze upwards, the wind tousling her hair. “Vincent… Get out of there! I have a bad feeling about this!”

Gale force winds buffeted the staircase as Vincent ascended, the metal scaffolding creaking and groaning from the strain. Vincent flew up the stairs, his red cape billowing behind him, his legs burning from the strain.

“My son is in need of power and help. That’s the only reason.”

Vincent turned the corner, hurrying up the next flight.

“I can’t believe you’re the one who did this… The illusionary crime against Sephiroth…”

“I was wrong. The one that should have slept was…”

Vincent reached the top floor. His pace slowed as he approached the console. 

“...you, Hojo!”

Professor Hojo’s corpse was slumped over the console. His body was human again, no longer the monstrosity created from injecting Jenova’s cells into his own body. His lab coat was tattered, stained a deep maroon from a mixture of Jenova cells and his own blood.

“Rest in peace.”  

Vincent squinted suspiciously, aiming his triple-barreled gun Cerberus at the corpse.

Lightning struck the cannon, the resulting explosion launching Vincent backwards. He slammed against the metal railing as the piece beside him was ripped off, plummeting to the ground far below. The floor shuddered, and with a tremendous screeching groan, the scaffolding buckled. As Vincent struggled to regain his footing, he glanced up at the console. Hojo was gone. 

Lightning struck again, setting an overhead Mako tank ablaze. A massive pipe overhead crashed onto the platform, and it tilted violently under Vincent’s feet.

“Vincent!”

The headlight from Yuffies’ hoverbike nearly blinded Vincent as she zoomed up to the platform. The bike wobbled, veering one direction, then another. Vincent ran to the edge of the platform, leaping into the air and reaching out to grab hold of the handlebars. The momentum of the bike swung Vincent around so he was sitting behind Yuffie, who groaned weakly in greeting.

Vincent grabbed both handlebars and took over control of the bike. He peered down at the burning platform one last time, ensuring there was no sign of Hojo, before revving the engine and speeding out of range of the explosions.

As the building exploded around it, the computer on Professor Hojo’s desk flickered to life. The professor’s life signs were not detected; the contingency program booted as instructed.

BALESTORO

Start fragment program

Chapter Text

It was the third year of the Meteorfall Festival, and this year the people of Kalm celebrated with a fervor the likes of which Vincent had never seen. Rows of tents and tables lined the cobblestone streets, offering everything from handcrafted jewelry to homemade sweets. Fireworks exploded in the sky, illuminating the square below, where people danced and children carried Moogle-shaped balloons. The crowd parted in the center of the square to make room for the annual parade, cheering on dancers and performers and musicians as they marched past. They have ample reason to celebrate, Vincent mused. He thought back to the previous year, watching from Cid’s airship Shera as dark clouds swirled above, smothering the sunlight as Cloud leapt through the air after his rival, Sephiroth. My sins, made manifest.

He closed his eyes. Instead of the soft bedsheets, he was instead sitting on the rocky cave floor. A crystal shone before him, a beautiful figure encased within. Her long brown hair flowed past her face, and her eyes were closed, her arms folded across her chest.

So… We meet again... Lucrecia.

The crystal shimmered, and a voice, soft and weak and filled with immeasurable despair, echoed through the crystalline chamber.

I’m so sorry.

Vincent opened his eyes, the light from the television casting flickering shadows on his face.

“Why?” He muttered aloud. “I’m the one who should apologize.”

He glanced over at the bedside table. His cell phone was propped against a glass of red wine, still open to Reeve’s text.

Meet me in Kalm. We need to talk.

“Three weeks ago our crew left for Midgar,” an anchorman announced on television.

“However, the group’s whereabouts still remain unknown,” his cohost added. “What really happened down there?”

“Tonight, for the first time, we bring you the final transmission received before all contact was lost.”

The screen changed to show the ruins of Midgar’s Sector 0. The ticker on the bottom of the screen noted the footage was sent in three weeks prior.

“For the past three years, this door has remained sealed,” the woman behind the camera narrated as two men in baggy rescue uniforms shoved open a metal door. “However, that seal is about to be broken.”

The camera cut to an overhead view, showing over 30 rescuers pouring through the opening and into the tunnel within.

“There are no records of this place located deep beneath the Shinra building—another of the company’s secrets revealed recently.” The newscaster was now in front of the camera, excitedly jabbering into her microphone as she followed the rescuers. “According to investigative reports, there is evidence that thousands of people were once transported here. If rumor’s of the Shinra company conducting human experiments are true, then this may be where those nefarious deeds were carried out. To bring you this exciting footage, Channel 7 news has teamed up with volunteer organization- oh, wait, I think I see something!”

The hairs on the back of Vincent’s neck tingled, and he tore his gaze from the television just as an explosion rocked the outer wall of the city. A trio of helicopters emerged from the smoke, their sleek, dragonfly-like design unlike anything Vincent had seen. As the crowd murmured in trepidation, a cargo bay door opened and rows of soldiers dressed in neon blue uniforms rappelled from the choppers, landing in the middle of the square. 

The soldiers opened fire.

Panic erupted. Civilians screamed and attempted to flee the rain of gunfire. Bodies thudded to the ground as two more helicopters descended, dropping large metal crates guarded by feral soldiers crouched on all fours like rabid dogs.

Vincent watched the carnage below, helpless to stop it. One helicopter drifted down to hover in front of the window of the inn, giving Vincent barely a moment to leap out the window before it fired an explosive round. Smoke trailed from Vincent’s cape as he nimbly leapt over the helicopter. He spun around in midair and aimed Cerberus at the base of the chopper’s propeller. He fired twice, then pushed off the adjacent rooftop and fired thrice more. He leapt from rooftop to rooftop, firing at the vehicle’s weak points until it burst into flame and careened to the ground. 

He turned from the explosion to the courtyard below. Only a handful of civilians remained alive, and Vincent watched as one of the soldiers shoved the butt of his gun into the back of a young woman.

“Get in there!”

Vincent locked eyes with a young girl, her expression pleading as she clutched a Moogle plush close to her chest. 

“Move it!”

One by one, the survivors were ushered into the metal crates like animals. Vincent’s heart burned with rage, and he flicked his cape out of the way before rushing across the rooftops towards the sound of screams.

“What’s going on?”

Vincent Valentine

Gender: Male

Blood Type: A

“Vincent Valentine.” Shelke’s eyes glowed orange as she ended her Synaptic Net Dive. “We’ve found you.”

“Is this the one?” The floor shook slightly as Azul the Cerulean strode to stand just behind her.

“Yes.”

She transmitted orders to the troops: Wanted Dead or Alive.

Vincent heard the click of a gun behind him, and whirled around, firing at the trio of soldiers who had snuck up on him from the roof behind him. Knowing his position was compromised, Vincent fled, leaping across rooftops until he spotted a stairwell door cracked open. He rushed down the stairs, taking out a half dozen soldiers on his way down.

“Now where am I supposed to meet Reeve?”

VIncent scanned the alleyway. Screams caught his attention, and a group of terrified civilians turned the corner, followed by a half-dozen soldiers. Vincent fired three rounds, each hitting the soldiers square in the forehead. He reloaded, then fired several more shots, each hitting their mark. The sound of gunfire drew the attention of more soldiers, so Vincent ducked and weaved between collapsed tents and spilled goods as he made his way to the square.

He was too late to stop one helicopter from carrying away a crate full of people. Vincent cursed under his breath and turned down another alley, firing at more of the mysterious soldiers. Two of the feral, doglike soldiers scurried past in pursuit of unseen prey, and Vincent ran after them.

“Mommy!” 

“My baby! No!”

One of the hounds emerged from the alley with a young girl clamped in its jaws. The other had pinned down the girl’s mother, snapping viciously at her neck. Vincent shot at the hound holding the girl, but the bullet ricocheted off its armor. It dropped the girl into an open metal crate, then turned, snarling, to face its attacker. It took several shots to pierce the fiend’s armor, but Vincent aimed at the joint in the armor by the beast’s neck. He fired, and it slumped to the ground, dead. He turned to the crate and pressed a button by its hatch, which slid open. 

“Rio!” 

The little girl ran from the crate into her mother’s waiting arms. The mother swung her daughter around, holding her tightly against her. She murmured thanks to Vincent before hurrying towards the town’s exit.

It appeared the mother and daughter were the last civilians left. A helicopter hovered low over the town square like a dragonfly, and Vincent made no move to hide from it. It turned and fired a volley of explosive missiles. As Vincent ducked for cover, it deployed another squad of soldiers, who swarmed the square. Vincent tore his attention from the Dragonfly and focused on the troops, felling them one by one before firing a round at the helicopter’s gun turret. The turret swung wildly as it broke from the chopper, spraying gunfire in all directions and taking out a half dozen of its own men. It fired missile after missile in a frenzy, it fired dozens of missiles, and Vincent dove into a nearby store to escape the resulting explosions.

It was eerily quiet inside the store. Vincent’s shoes clacked loudly on the wooden floor, the sound echoing dully in the empty storeroom.

The wall to Vincent’s left burst apart in a cloud of plaster dust. A massive brute of a man with bulging muscles and angular features stepped over the rubble, scowling at Vincent. His eyes glowed yellow, and streaks on his face glowed blue, matching both his uniform and his long hair. A young girl a quarter the man’s size strode to stand beside him.

“The Protomateria.” The girl’s eyes glowed bright orange. “Tell us where it is.”

Vincent had no explanation, so he offered none. The brute huffed dismissively in response. “Hail Weiss.”

“Hail Weiss!” A trio of soldiers cocked their rifles in salute, then aimed at Vincent. In three shots, the three soldiers were dead. Vincent turned his gun on the brute.

“Challenge accepted,” the man sneered. But as he stepped forward to fight Vincent, the girl beside him collapsed, moaning weakly.

“This way!” A voice echoed from up the stairs, followed by the thunder of footsteps.

The brute sniffed. “Luck is on your side.” He bent down and picked up the girl, his entire hand wrapped around her tiny torso.

“I’m sorry…” she groaned.

The brute spared one last glance at Vincent over his shoulder. “I am Azul. We will meet again.” He turned and carried the girl away. Vincent heard a distant boom as Azul crashed through a distant wall.

“What happened here?” 

Vincent turned to see two men rush into the room. The first was a young man in a heavy gray uniform and a bright red beanie. The other was Reeve Tuesti, clad in a long blue robe.

“Vincent Valentine!” Reeve laughed briefly, before furrowing his brow. “Are you alright?”

“Reeve, nice to see you again.” He nodded at Reeve’s coat. “Not a very interesting outfit, though.”

“It took me a while to decide which costume I’d put on for today,” Reeve laughed. “But enough of the small talk. Who were those soldiers that just left?”

“I don’t know. The large one called himself Azul.”

“Azul the Cerulean?” Reeve gasped. “Of the Tsviets!? Then that could only mean…”

“Commissioner!”

Reeve whirled around at the sound of the young man’s shout. Three soldiers had kicked down the door to the shop, and Vincent knew it wouldn’t be long before they’d make their way upstairs.

“We’ll discuss this later.” Reeve turned back to Vincent imploringly. “WRO troops have arrived and commenced rescue operations. We could use your help, Vincent.” He quickly turned to the stairs.

“Reeve.”

Reeve stopped in his tracks and peered over his shoulder at Vincent.

“I don’t know what you’re up to, but I want absolutely no part of it.”

“But,” Reeve protested, “you fought alongside us three years ago! We need your help once mor-”

Reeve’s plea was cut short by a bullet through his stomach. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, and Vincent watched in shock as Reeve fell forward, a dark stain spreading on the front of his coat. Vincent didn’t even think—he raised his gun on instinct and eliminated Reeve’s killer in a single shot.

“Reeve!”

Vincent choked back tears as he ran to his friend’s side. He grabbed Reeve by his shoulders, swallowing hard as he realized how cold the body was already. But to his surprise, Reeve crumbled in his arms. His arms, legs, and head fell off his torso, and something small and furry plopped out of Reeve’s neck.

“That was a close one!” The ball of fur uncurled into Cait Sith, who bounced around the floor cheerfully. “Never was good at fighting. Luckily, I came out wearing ’Reeve.’”

Vincent was utterly speechless.

“You’re really not a bad bloke, are you, Vincent?” Cait Sith shook his head, grinning cheekily. “You pretend not to care, but you always come through in the end.”

Vincent fought the smile creeping to the corners of his lips. He sighed defeatedly. “All right, what do you want me to do?”

“Let’s run those lads outta town.” Cait Sith raised his gloved hand for a high five. “I’ll leave the method up to you. When you’ve tidied things up, meet me at the square in front of the east church.”

Vincent chuckled, then turned and leapt out the window instead. The square was much livelier now that Reeve’s men had arrived; the WRO troops exchanged gunfire with the mysterious soldiers, and Vincent swept through the square, darting between pieces of debris and taking the enemy by surprise.

He spotted the man accompanying Reeve staving off two of the feral hounds. He fired at the fiends’ underbellies, and the man turned to Vincent gratefully. “Mr. Vincent Valentine. I’m an officer with the World Regenesis Organization. Speak with me if you require any assistance.”

“World… Regenesis Organization?”

“Sir!” The officer sprang into a salute. “The WRO was originally established three years ago after Meteorfall. With Jenova War hero Reeve Tuesti at its helm, our organization is dedicated to aiding the healing process of the planet, as well as protecting it from any who attempt further harm.” 

“Hm. And where do I meet Reeve?”

“Sir!” The officer sprang into a salute again. “Proceed to the east church just past these buildings. Hurry. We will assist you in securing the area.”

“Over here!”

“Hurry! Come on!”

Vincent watched as three WRO members flanked a group of civilians, protecting them from enemy soldiers. Vincent’s heart surged with hope, and he followed closely behind, firing at any soldiers who attempted to sneak up on the WRO troopers.

“Appreciate the backup! I’m glad you’re on our side, sir!” 

“Deepground!” One of the troopers shouted. Another horde of soldiers rounded the corner, guns drawn.

Vincent exchanged fire with the Deepground soldiers, but the sound of an engine overhead caught his attention. He changed tactics, drawing the soldiers away from the WRO troopers and into the central courtyard. 

A Dragonfly jerked and sputtered, its engines emitting puffs of black smoke as it jolted to a halt in front of Vincent. It fired erratically, spinning and swerving as if to use its bulk as a weapon in lieu of missiles. Vincent scrambled up the church tower, perching atop its spire and readying his handgun. 

He leapt into the air, firing once, twice, thrice, four times at the spluttering engine. He landed atop its hull, and with a growl transformed into Galian Beast, ripping and tearing at the metal with his claws. The helicopter finally thudded to the ground, shrapnel flying as it exploded.

A platoon of Deepground soldiers crawled from the wreckage. They stood in line and fired on Vincent in unison, creating a wall of gunfire that Vincent had no chance of dodging. Vincent lifted his arm, using the metal of his glove to shield his face and torso.

Tires squealed as a truck rounded the corner, screeching to a halt between Vincent and his attackers. The doors flew open, and WRO troops poured from the back of the truck, rushing into formation before returning fire. Reeve leapt out after the troopers, but instead of joining them, he shielded himself with the truck. He nodded at Vincent, and Vincent nodded back. Reeve crouched down, aiming underneath the truck and firing at the Deepground soldiers’ ankles, while Vincent rushed around the other side of the truck, shooting at the distracted foes.

At long last, the fighting ceased and the smoke began to clear. But the WRO’s work wasn’t done. Squadrons turned their attention to providing medical aid and putting out the remaining fires.

“Good work, Vincent.” Reeve turned to Vincent, who was sitting casually atop a crate of supplies. “The enemy is retreating. It seems they have finally begun their withdrawal from Kalm.”

“Good,” Vincent sighed in relief.

“However, we still require your assistance. Reports are Edge is under attack.”

It was too easy.

True, the weakest members of Deepground struggled to hold their own against the WRO. But Nero picked each one off one by one, leaving only a handful of toys for Rosso to play with. She couldn’t help but laugh at the confusion on the enemy’s faces at their dwindling numbers.

Her laugh drew the attention of one of the troopers. “Who the hell are you!?”

“Rosso. Rosso the Crimson.”

“Tsviets?”

Rosso lifted her weapon and unsheathed her blade. With a single slash, all three troopers crumpled to the ground. “The mighty WRO,” she scoffed. “They wouldn’t last a day in Deepground.”

Chapter Text

The truck rattled and bounced on the uneven terrain as it sped from Kalm to Edge. Vincent polished his weapons, and Reeve paced the cabin restlessly before sitting stiffly across from Vincent.

“Reeve. Who were those men?”

“Deepground soldiers.”

“Deepground?”

“Yes. The shadow of the Shinra Company, constructed by the former president and completely hidden from the rest of the world.”

“Constructed?” Vincent gasped. The concept sounded all too familiar.

“His goal was to create an army of superhuman warriors—not once letting morality interfere,” Reeve elaborated. “The man you met earlier, Azul, is also a member of Deepground. But he belongs to an elite unit known as the Tsviets. The whole organization was kept a secret. That is why there is so little information on them. However, it’s nothing like I expected.”

“Not even a person in your position was informed?”

“No.” Reeve shook his head somberly. “Other than the president himself, the only people who knew of Deepground’s existence were most likely Heidegger, Scarlet, and the head of biochemical research, Hojo. After the president’s death, the transfer of power to his son was carried out so quickly, I doubt Rufus was ever briefed on the project. As for me, I was told the information was on a need to know basis. And as an official in charge of urban development, I guess I wasn’t on their list.” Reeve laughed darkly. “All the intel we currently have on Deepground was only discovered recently when we came across some of Scarlet’s old files.”

Reeve paused, giving Vincent time to process the information. After a long moment, he sighed heavily. “Vincent. Have you heard of the mass disappearance that occurred recently in Junon?”

“I remember the report saying that 20 or 30 people suddenly vanished.”

“That’s what the report would like you to believe.” Reeve’s expression hardened. “It was determined internally that if the truth was leaked, they wouldn’t be able to contain the inevitable panic. The actual number of people that went missing that day was 1200.”

Vincent leaned forward in his seat, his eyes wide.

“1200 people simply vanished without a single trace,” Reeve sighed. “The WRO conducted a private investigation but we came up empty-handed. Except for the rumors. Since the Junon disappearances, people in Edge have been on edge. They say that night after night you can hear screams coming from the direction of Midgar. Could it be the wind?” Reeve shook his head. “Let me ask you, does the wind sound like a thousand wailing souls?”

A chill ran down Vincent’s spine. Reeve squeezed his eyes shut, his expression pained. “Listen. Can you hear them? The cries?”

Vincent shivered. The sound was the same, the swirling darkness engulfing Midgar the previous year, and before that, the cries of the Planet as the souls gathered around-

“Commissioner! A rogue transmission is being broadcast on all wavelengths!”

Reeve rushed to the console and flipped on the screen.

A young man with wild silver hair sat upon a throne, mako swirling around his pale, bare torso. He grinned maliciously as the camera zoomed in on the man’s face.

“At last. The time has come to cleanse this world. The pure will be ’spared’ for the cause, while the tainted will be hunted down and exterminated. They shall be slashed, strangled, and slaughtered. Beaten, stabbed, and crushed. Garroted and impaled. Shot and executed without mercy. The time has come to cleanse this world.” The man laughed, a deep, booming, maniacal laugh that was cut short by the end of the transmission.

“Where could that signal have…?” The truck suddenly jerked violently, and Reeve nearly toppled out of his seat. “What was that?”

Reeve rushed to the back of the truck, throwing the doors open. A rabid canine leapt at Reeve the moment he opened the door—but Vincent was just as quick, shooting it between the eyes before it could reach Reeve.

“Guard hounds!”

Several dozen black dogs were now following the truck.

“I’ll take care of your pet problem.” Vincent cocked Cerberus and fired at two of the hounds. “Just keep driving.”

“Vincent! Use this!”

Reeve slammed his fist into a control panel, and the floor slid open. A machine gun turret rose from the floor, and Vincent leapt into the seat. The gun shook in Vincent’s hands as he fired relentlessly on the wild animals, the feeling of such immense gunpower almost soothing. The truck jolted violently, jamming the weapon, so Vincent ditched the machine gun and leapt atop the roof of the truck instead. 

But what awaited ahead of the truck was far worse than what chased them from behind; the bridge had collapsed. The driver had a split second to react before the truck careened off the edge of the cliff. By some miracle, it made it to the other side, stripping the tires and sliding uncontrollably until it screeched to a halt at the edge of a ravine.

Vincent leapt off the top of the truck and threw open the doors. Reeve stumbled out, his gait wobbly.

“Are you all right?”

“I’ll be fine. But that’s more than I can say for the engine.” Reeve stared forlornly at the smoking truck. “Vincent. If possible, I want you to continue on to Edge. That transmission we just saw troubles me. Once I have repaired the Shadowfox, I’ll need to return to headquarters. A WRO squad has already been dispatched to Edge. Join them and help liberate the city.”

“I guess I have no choice,” Vincent sighed.

The wasteland outside Edge was swarming with Guard Hounds. Vincent could barely take two steps without another fiend leaping from behind the rocks to attack him. The beasts were relentless, and Vincent couldn’t help but see the similarities between them and the Shadow Creepers he’d helped Cloud fend of a year prior. 

And the first time Cloud had run afoul of those fiends, they were under the direction of-

Vincent looked up and scanned the edge of the cliff face overlooking the path. Sure enough, three Deepground soldiers peeked over the cliff. They revved the engines of their hoverbikes and drove after Vincent the moment they realized he had spotted them, circling Vincent.

Vincent eliminated the soldiers, firing at the engines of their bikes and sending them careening off the edge of the cliff.

He reached the entrance to Edge as it began to rain.

Chapter Text

“‘Slashed, strangled, and slaughtered. Beaten, stabbed, and crushed. Garroted and impaled. Shot and executed without mercy.’” Rosso giggled. “Nicely said, Weiss.”

She smiled as she observed the carnage around her, all the WRO fools who wandered into her trap. They fell like flies, and she left their bodies scattered on the ground as a welcome shock to anyone else who dared cross her.

The sky flashed with lightning, followed by a peal of thunder that shook the warehouse. She closed her eyes, basking in the noise of the rain pattering against the roof. “I wonder if this will be a little more amusing than last time.”

Edge was eerily quiet. The pouring rain certainly played a part, but even accounting for the weather, there were fewer people wandering around town than there should have been. Vincent kept to the shadows, creeping around corners as he scanned the streets for any sign of life.

Heels clacked on the asphalt behind him. He spun around and aimed Cerberus at the source—and found himself staring down the muzzle of a handgun himself.

The woman was dressed in a cropped tank and a short leather skirt beneath a white lab coat. One arm of the coat, the one that wasn’t aiming a gun at him, hung limply at her side, and Vincent spotted a flash of metal beside the woman’s hip. She glared at him with fierce intensity with one blue eye; the other remained shut. 

The two remained at an impasse, guns aimed at the other’s face, fingers on triggers. Vincent glanced down at the nametag dangling from the woman’s lab coat. “You’re WRO?”

“Who’s asking?”

Vincent lowered his gun and holstered it. “Vincent Valentine. Reeve sent me.”

The woman’s eyes widened in recognition. She narrowed her eyes and flipped her gun idly before holstering it as well. “My apologies. Shalua Rui of the WRO.” She began to pace around Vincent, unbothered by the rain. “The commissioner has told me much about you.”

“What happened here?”

“That’s what I’d like to know.” Shalua continued to pace, peering down the main street. “I’m here on other business, but something’s not right. It’s too quiet. I’ve seen no trace of Deepground, or the squads that were sent in to fight them. Also, where are the 500 people who are supposed to still be living here?”

Vincent had no response.

“Well, this is getting us nowhere,” Shalua sighed. “Like I said, I have business to attend to. I’ll see you around.” She turned and headed back up the street.

“Business?”

Shalua stopped. She turned around, staring somberly at the road. “The commissioner keeps telling me I’m wasting my time searching.”

“Searching for what?”

“For my…” Shalua turned away from Vincent. “...reason to live.”

Vincent watched as Shalua strode away through the rain. Then he turned and continued forward. He heard a faint gurgling sound from a narrow alley, and followed the noise. A trickle of red raced down cracks in the street, its color fading as it mixed with the rain. Vincent picked up the pace, following the trail of blood.

He found a WRO trooper slumped against the back wall of a bar, clutching his stomach. Blood dripped from a deep gash in his torso, and the man’s breathing was shallow and rapid. His eyes widened at the sight of Vincent.

“Ambushed… by… soldier… in red…” He barely had enough breath to get more than a single word out at a time. “Squad… wiped out…” He took a deeper breath, the color draining from his face. “Warehouse… on the… edge of town…” His voice was barely a whisper now. The soldier slowly slipped along the wall as his strength failed him. Vincent reached out and grasped the man’s hand. It was cold. 

“They… were gathering… civilians…”

Vincent reached out and closed the man’s eyes.

The rain made it difficult to hear or see any enemies nearby, but Vincent’s instincts told him to stay wary. He cautiously entered Meteor Square, stepping out into the open as he scanned the rooftops. 

He spotted the glowing neon blue of a Deepground uniform. A sniper trained his rifle on Vincent, clearly aiming at Vincent’s head. Vincent swapped Cerberus with a long-range rifle of his own, carefully aiming down the scope and taking down the sniper. He spotted another, and another, Deepground snipers emerging from their hiding places to get to a better vantage point. 

After taking down the snipers, Vincent spotted a flash of blue down one of the side roads. He rushed over to find two soldiers cornering a young boy. In two shots, the soldiers were eliminated. The boy trembled as he whipped his head back and forth, nervously checking for more soldiers. He nodded nervously at Vincent. “Thanks.”

The boy ran up the street, pointing at a glowing barrier. “The warehouse. I know how to get there. It’s through that gate.”

Vincent moved to head through the gate. He heard the boy sob softly beside him.

“Avenge… I couldn’t do…” He wiped the tears from his eyes. “Mom and Dad… Right there, but I couldn’t move. I was too scared. But…”

Vincent slowly knelt down in front of the boy. 

“Please!” The boy shouted, tears streaming down his face. “Help me avenge their death!”

The warehouse was far quieter than the streets, the roof muffling the sound of the rain pattering outside. So Vincent easily heard the heavy footsteps clanging on the catwalk overhead. He dodged out of the way as a heavily armored soldier dropped to the floor before him.

The soldier let out a fierce war cry, flexing his muscles in a series of intimidating poses. He pointed up to the catwalk, where several snipers emerged and aimed at Vincent. Two soldiers in regular Deepground armor flanked the man, looking puny by comparison.

The warehouse’s pillars provided ample support from the snipers, and Vincent dashed around the room, picking off soldiers one by one until the Heavy Armored Soldier was all that remained. With a roar, Vincent transformed into Galian Beast, ripping and tearing at the man’s armor and clawing angrily at the flesh beneath.

“How could I…?” The soldier gasped weakly, then collapsed as Vincent returned to human form.

Rosso stood on the windowsill, staring up at the dark clouds overhead. Raindrops dotted her face, trailing down her chin and neck. “You know, this is the first time I’ve ever felt the rain on my skin. But then again, I hadn’t even seen the sky until a few days ago.” She turned to the man who had wandered so casually into the room. “So you’re Vincent Valentine. Keeper of the Protomateria.”

“Protomateria?” Vincent stared blankly at Rosso.

“Yes. The key to controlling Omega.” Rosso stepped closer to Vincent, slowly, like a cat stalking her prey. “We know you have it. Hand it over now, and I’ll kill you quickly.”

Vincent simply glared at her in response.

“Not one to bargain, are we? Then I’ll make sure you suffer.” She rushed behind him, unsheathing her weapon. “Time to die.”

To his credit, Vincent Valentine was remarkably agile; he dodged her blows as easily as the Restrictors once had, rolling out of range and raising his handgun. Rosso aimed her crossbow and fired before Vincent had a chance to steady his aim, putting him on the defensive. He leapt out of range of her gunfire, right into the path of her right fist. She punched Vincent, hard, in the stomach, sending him flying into the metal wall, which crumpled from the impact.

Rosso strolled forward as a red light emanated from Vincent’s body. Where the man one stood was now a ghastly beast: a humanoid figure with spiked, angular wings and dull gray skin. The Protomateria glowed in the creature’s chest.

Chaos roared, and a surge of energy blasted Rosso backwards, unable to resist its sheer power.

Plip. Plip. Plip.

Vincent’s eyes fluttered as raindrops landed on his face. Each drop of water felt like it was pushing him, testing the limits of his exhausted, shaking legs. He groaned and fell backwards, landing with a splash on the warehouse floor.

The edges of his vision darkened, but Vincent could swear he saw a pair of blue high heels, a long white lab coat… 

Chapter Text

“Lucrecia.”

…sorry…

“Why?”

Lucrecia’s body shimmered within the mako crystal. 

Awake-

“Awake…?”

“Well, look who’s awake.”

Vincent peered around in a daze. He was submerged in mako, contained within a large tank. Like he had when- 

“Hold on. I’ll release you.” Shalua grinned at Vincent and typed at a nearby console. The tank slowly drained, and mako dripped off Vincent’s cape and shoes as he stepped out.

“Where am I?”

“Safe inside the WRO headquarters.” Shalua pushed her glasses up her nose. “I carried you back here from Edge after you collapsed during your fight with Deepground.” She smirked. “It seems like the beast inside you went a little wild back there. This happen often?”

“Went wild?” Vincent’s head was still swimming. “Do you mean Chaos?”

“Chaos?” Shalua staggered forward in shock. “Your body harbors the Chaos gene?” She slapped her hand to her forehead. “So that explains your relationship with Dr. Lucrecia Crescent. Were you the product of one of her experiments?”

“Lucrecia’s… experiments?” He grimaced.

“I apologize,” Shalua stammered. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

“Wait. Lucrecia… was researching… Chaos?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know.” Shalua turned to a WRO computer nearby and pulled up a file. 

Lucrecia Crescent

DOB: 7/22

Blood Type: B

Gender: Female

“Crescent. Shinra class A scientist specializing in biotechnology.” Shalua adjusted her glasses again. “In her research thesis, ’The Planet’s Pulse,’ she refers to Chaos as one of the sentient xenoforms residing among us. However, the theories that she presented in her work were so abstract and complex that no one had…”

Vincent stared at Lucrecia’s file, idly drowning out Shalua’s words. 

I’m so sorry… 

Awaken…

“Are you alright?”

Vincent shook his head and turned to Shalua. “Can I see that thesis?”

“Unfortunately, no. On top of being obscure, it was never even submitted to the Shinra database. All I know is what I saw while going through the company’s archives.”

Shelke typed rapidly, analyzing the data scrolling across her screen.

“What is the status of our keeper?” Azul snarled from behind her.

“His location remains unchanged since the confrontation,” Shelke replied. “We can assume this is the WRO headquarters.”

“Good,” Azul snickered. “Two birds with one stone.” He turned and left the room.

Shelke committed the location of Vincent Valentine to memory and shut off the computer. She turned to the table beside her and picked up the glowing orange materia sitting atop its wooden surface.

The door to the lab slid open, and a familiar man walked inside.

“Vincent!” Reeve broke into a wide smile. “Have you recovered already?”

After a quick exchange of pleasantries, Vincent summarized everything that had happened in Edge: the woman in red who had slaughtered a squad of WRO troops, her mention of Protomateria, and his transformation into Chaos.

“So Rosso the Crimson told you that Protomateria is the ’key to controlling Omega’?” Reeve paced the floor, tapping his chin thoughtfully. He turned to Shalua. “Any ideas?”

“’Soul wrought of terra corrupt, quelling impurity, purging the stream to beckon forth an ultimate fate. Behold mighty Chaos, Omega’s squire to the lofty heavens,’” she recited. “A passage from Dr. Crescent’s thesis. But that’s all I know. Unfortunately, I only saw a fragment of the document. However, Chaos… Omega… And…” she glanced knowingly at Vincent. “All seem to be connected to Dr. Crescent in some way. There’s no other explanation. I think we’ll need to gather more data on her to get anywhere.”

An alarm suddenly blared, and several of the monitors on the far wall glowed bright red. Warnings scrolled on several screens.

“What now?” Reeve rushed over to the monitor. An army of Deepground soldiers was ascending the steps to the entrance. Azul the Cerulean stormed past as well, but noticed the camera zooming in on him. He gestured to a sniper, who hurried beside the Tsviet and fired at the camera. The feed became a rectangle of static.

“Damn!” Shalua typed frantically at a nearby terminal, and the security feed showed several thick high-security doors slide shut. 

Outside, Azul stormed forward, pushing two soldiers out of the way. “Move.” He cracked his neck, then his knuckles, preparing to rip the door open.

Instead, the door exploded, revealing a row of WRO troopers within. 

“Painless,” Azul smirked. He nodded to the troopers at his side. “Go.”

Shalua watched as Vincent ran down the hall, his red cape whisking from feed to feed as he passed each security camera. 

“Vincent!” Reeve called through the intercom. “The enemy has breached the main gate! Hurry!” 

But movement on the entrance feed caught Shalua’s eye. The camera stuttered, the feed fuzzy from the damage the sniper had done to it. But the figure that strode past was unmistakable, a young girl with short red hair in a Deepground uniform. “What? It couldn’t be…”

The lobby was chaos. The atrium stretched through several floors, each one flashing with gunfire and explosions as Deepground fought the WRO. Starting in the lobby, Vincent went floor by floor, eliminating the enemy and escorting wounded troopers out of harm’s way. 

He spotted Shalua on a catwalk on one of the lower floors. She fought hand-to-hand with a Deepground soldier, and Vincent could see the hand that was hidden beneath her lab coat. Her entire arm had been replaced with a clunky metal prosthetic, which stayed stuck at an awkward angle while she fought. In spite of the impediment, Shalua held her own, throwing the soldier off the catwalk before pulling out her handgun and firing a clean headshot at another. He hurried up the stairs to the next floor.

“Mr. Valentine!” A female WRO trooper called Vincent over. She hugged the corner wall, unable to aim around the corner as a rain of gunfire poured continuously from the hall. “A sizable enemy unit is headed straight for the command center. Please, sir, you have to help the commissioner!”

Vincent nodded resolutely and ran down the hall, straight into the gunfire. The bold move took the soldiers completely by surprise, and Vincent returned fire. He didn’t look back as he raced to the command center.

“Take that!”

Vincent turned the corner to see the body of a Deepground soldier fly into the wall before collapsing limp on the ground. Cait Sith hopped out, followed closely by Reeve, who smiled reassuringly at Vincent. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine here. But Vincent. The Tsviets… Azul is still on the loose.”

Vincent scoured the halls, looking for any sign of Azul. Instead, he found Shalua—who immediately raised her gun and aimed it at his chest. “Don’t move.”

“Very perceptive of you.” The air shimmered beside Vincent as a cloaking unit deactivated, revealing a young girl. She looked no older than ten, with short red hair that looked strikingly similar to Shalua’s.

“I knew it,” Shalua gasped. She lowered her gun and stepped forward in disbelief. “Shelke.”

Shelke’s eyes widened briefly, then her expression hardened. “I have no acquaintances in the WRO.”

“We’ve both changed so much. No,” Shalua shook her head, “you haven’t changed at all. Not in ten years.”

Shelke gasped.

“Shelke. It’s me. Shalua. I’ve been searching for you for so long.” 

Shalua rushed towards Shelke, but Shelke reached behind her and pulled out a glowing blade, fueled by a tube snaking behind her. Shelke looked away, but aimed the blade at Shalua’s nose. “Don’t take another step.”

“Shelke?”

“It doesn’t matter who I am or who you are.” Shelke’s eyes glowed, matching the glow of her blade. “My current mission as a Deepground soldier is all that is relevant.” She pulled out a second glowing weapon, dropping into an offensive stance.

“No! It does matter!” Shalua shouted. “Even though ten years have passed, you’re still Shelke, my only sister!”

Shelke hesitated, then lowered both weapons, deactivating them. “Ten years. Has it been that long?”

“The day they came to take me away, I was told I had potential. But those words were nothing but a precursor to a decade of suffering. They manipulated my mind until I was a shadow of my original self. The pain. The fear. For ten years I lived in a hell far deeper than any you could imagine. ”

Shalua listened in disbelief as Shelke outlined the brutality she had faced in Deepground the past ten years. 

“But look at me. I should be 19 this year.” Shelke didn’t look a day over 9. “If I don’t receive my daily dose of mako, this body wouldn’t last a day.”

Shalua pressed a hand to her heart, the despair threatening to swallow her whole.

“However, I don’t consider myself the least bit unfortunate.” Shelke glowered, her voice dripping with venom. “Except that for so long I held on to a foolish thread of hope that someday, someone would come to save me.”

It was too much. Shalua fell to her knees, sobbing. “I’m sorry, Shelke. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s time to put the past behind us.”

Shalua heard a hum as Shelke reactivated her weapons. She bowed her head, waiting, praying for the end. 

Footsteps thundered up the corridor. “Stop this!”

“Reeve Tuesti.” Shelke lowered her weapons and turned to face the man in the blue coat.

“So you are Shalua’s younger sister.”

“Excellent.” Shelke ignored Reeve. “Now I can terminate both of you at once-”

“Look at her!” Reeve shouted. 

Shelke glanced down at Shalua, who was still sobbing pathetically on the floor. Her left arm was one of twisted metal, her left eyelid permanently closed.

“That’s the price Shalua has paid fighting Shinra for the past ten years. She has given more than her arm, more than her eye. She has put her life on the line time and time again. All to find her lost sister. More than half her organs have been reconstructed. Not a day goes by when Shalua doesn’t suffer the pain of a hundred souls. But still, she-”

“Enough.” Shelke swallowed hard. “I’ve… I’ve heard enough.” She raised her blades again. Vincent Valentine raised his gun, along with Reeve.

“Stop!”

Instead of shooting at her, Reeve fired instead at the ceiling, setting off the building’s sprinkler system. Water poured on Shelke as she swung her blades… They flickered, the end not reaching Shalua’s head. Vincent rushed to her sister’s side, cradling her as she choked back the last of her sobs.

“Vincent.” Reeve nodded at Vincent, and Shelke only watched as he pulled her sister away.

Vincent rushed Shalua to the back of the hallway, then handed her off to Reeve, who offered his comfort and walked her through deep breathing exercises to calm her down. When she seemed stable, Reeve reached into his pocket and handed Vincent a handful of bullets. “Use these.”

Vincent loaded Cerberus and headed back towards Shelke. Shalua snapped to attention, fighting to stand as Reeve grabbed her by the shoulders. “Shelke? Shelke!”

“Don’t worry,” Reeve reassured her. “The bullets will only sedate her. Let Vincent handle this.”

Shelke was waiting, blades drawn, when Vincent turned the corner. On sight, she whizzed around the room, dodging Vincent’s shots. Only a few managed to hit her, but they grazed her arms. Vincent cursed under his breath, then fell back into a more defensive position. 

The bullets seemed to be slow-acting. Her movements became more sluggish and erratic, making it easier for Vincent to fire more sedative into her body. 

“I don’t… understand…” Shelke fell to her knees. Vincent aimed squarely at the girl’s chest and fired one last time. Shelke collapsed, unconscious.

“Shelke!”

Shalua rushed to Shelke’s side, cradling her sister in her arms. Reeve spared a quick glance at Vincent, then helped Shalua to her feet, guiding them back to the command center.

Vincent turned to follow, but as he did so, the ceiling collapsed behind him. Azul crashed to the floor, landing with a loud thud. He rose to his feet, stomping down the hall towards Vincent. “We meet again,” he sneered. “Answer me this. Do you know why you even exist?”

Vincent stared blankly.

“Just as I thought. Ignorant to your own destiny. Very well.” He stepped towards Vincent. “I’ll show you what you really are.”

Vincent fired at Azul, but his bullets instead hit a shimmering shield in front of the brute. 

“You think that toy can penetrate my armor?” Azul barked out a laugh. “Enough of the games, Vincent. Give me the Protomateria.”

“Vincent! Over here!” Reeve waved Vincent down the hall. Vincent fired a few last useless shots, then ran after Reeve.

“You can’t run!” Azul stormed after the two men, his footsteps making the floor tremble as he gained ground.

“Vincent!” Reeve gestured for Vincent to follow him, and Vincent nodded in acknowledgement. Reeve turned to the right and led Vincent into a storage room.

A rocket launcher lay atop an open storage crate. Vincent hurriedly picked up the weapon, turned, and fired blindly. The force of the explosion sent Vincent and Reeve flying across the room.

“You shouldn’t leave those things lying around.” Vincent groaned as he rose to his feet. Reeve burst out laughing.

Another laugh echoed alongside Reeve’s. Vincent turned to see Azul, his shattered shield flickering. The brute stepped forward, crashing through the last of the broken shield. “Well done. You have broken through my barrier.” He hoisted a rocket launcher of his own in front of him, aiming it at Vincent.

“This ends here,” Vincent scowled. “Leave him to me.”

Reeve nodded and ran to the back of the room, hiding behind a pile of equipment. 

Azul snickered. “Long has it been since I faced a worthy opponent!”

Vincent leapt backwards.

“There’s nowhere to run,” Azul taunted. He fired a shot, which Vincent dodged. He fired at an explosive barrel beside the brute, launching him airborne and throwing the weapon from his hands. 

Azul growled, nursing a bleeding arm as he stood. “You may think this is the end,” he panted heavily, “but…” His eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed.

Reeve couldn’t find Vincent anywhere. 

He hurried through the halls, stopping to help wounded WRO troopers where he could. He finally spotted Vincent heading to the exit.

“Where are you-”

“Nibelheim,” Vincent answered flatly.

“Wait. Shinra Manor? But that is where…” Reeve trailed off. “Understood,” he sighed. “However, be on your guard. We have reports of Deepground units deployed in that area. If you wish to enter the manor in one piece, I suggest you use the sewer system extending from the old mako reactor.”

“Sewer?” Vincent chuckled. “How appropriate is that?”

Reeve watched Vincent walk away. “Now, as for me and my feline companion… It is time we found out what Deepground is truly up to.”

Chapter Text

“Try to bring back anything that we could use to better understand this situation. Dr. Crescent may have left something important in Shinra Manor.”

Reeve bid Vincent farewell with those instructions as the WRO helicopter ascended, en route to Nibelheim. As the helicopter flew over the rocky cliffs below, Vincent’s thoughts turned to Lucrecia. She was… researching something back then, Vincent pondered. What were you involved in? What was tormenting you? Vincent turned to the pilot. “Where are we?”

“We are currently over the vicinity of Junon, sir,” the pilot replied. He opened his mouth to explain further, but before he could continue, something landed on the windshield of the helicopter, with enough force to cause it to wobble in midair. 

The creature snarled and thrust a clawed hand through the pilot’s window, seizing the man by the neck and pulling him out, tossing its screaming victim aside as it crawled into the careening chopper. Vincent didn’t hesitate, unholstering his shotgun and firing on the monsters. He dispatched each with ease, but the damage had been done—with no pilot, the helicopter spun out of control, smoke billowing from gashes cleaved by the creatures. An explosion rocked the helicopter, and Vincent stumbled momentarily.

One monster seized its chance, yanking Vincent backwards through the cabin door. Vincent and his attacker plummeted to the ground, and Vincent curled into a ball, hastening his fall but allowing him to summon the energy to transform. Vincent roared, slashing at the remaining monsters with massive claws, his Galian Beast form effortlessly tanking the impact as both he and the helicopter hit the ground below. Vincent returned to his human form as the helicopter exploded behind him.

“Vincent Valentine…”

Nero the Sable watched as Vincent tossed his cape dramatically, leaving behind the burning wreckage of the helicopter.

“Come, show it to me,” Nero sneered. “The darkness swelling inside of you…”

Reeve’s hand flew to his phone the moment the helicopter’s signal was lost. “Vincent?”

A grunt crackled through the other end. Reeve sighed in relief. “Vincent, it’s me. I’ve managed to establish a connection to your phone. It appears this area is safe for the time being. But keep an eye out for Deepground.” He traced the geolocation of Vincent’s phone signal. “You’ve made it to the outskirts of Junon. You should reach the city soon. Stay alert and watch for any signs of danger. Although it is not far to Junon, the journey will not be an easy one.”

Vincent called Reeve as soon as he reached the entrance to Lower Junon. He reported his location. 

“You need to reach the harbor and get on a ship,” Reeve instructed. 

“To where?”

“Costa del Sol. I’ll arrange for another chopper there. It should get you to Nibelheim.”

“All right.” Vincent hung up and strode ahead.

So this is where it all began… He remembered what Reeve had told him. 

“This was the site of a mass disappearance. In a single night, 1200 people disappeared without a trace. Junon has become a ghost town; those left behind living in sorrow.” 

But what awaited Vincent was anything but a ghost town. Deepground soldiers patrolled the streets. “They’re here too?” There were too many soldiers guarding the path to the harbor; Vincent had no choice but to sneak into the elevator to Upper Junon. 

“Wh-who are you people?”

“We are Deepground.” Rosso twirled her blade idly, delighting in the fear on the hostages’ faces. “I am Rosso, but you, darling, may call me… Rosso, the Crimson.” In a flash, Rosso sliced through the two hostages like butter. “The tainted will be hunted down and exterminated. ’The time has come to cleanse this world,’” she recited. 

No sooner had Vincent stepped off the elevator platform to Upper Junon than the elevator exploded behind him. He cradled his head, shielding it from wayward shrapnel. He cursed under his breath and hurried ahead, knowing the sound would surely draw attention.

Upper Junon was swarming with Deepground soldiers. Dragonfly helicopters hovered overhead, dropping more platoons onto the larboard side of the city. Suddenly, something bumped into Vincent’s leg. He whirled around and aimed Cerberus at his attacker. 

The little boy screamed at the sight of Vincent’s gun. Vincent hurriedly lowered his weapon. “Sorry. Are you all right?”

“Are you the monster?” The boy cried. “The one that took everyone away?”

“You mean the disappearances?” 

“I saw everything! That night, the stars all went out. And then I saw it… the shadow… Those claws…” The boy quivered, tears streaming down his face. He suddenly burst into noisy tears and fled. 

Vincent hurried down the main street of Junon, hiding behind tents and piles of supplies wherever possible. He spotted groups of civilians held at gunpoint by Deepground soldiers.

“Please! I have a family!”

“They will join you soon.” 

Vincent fired at the soldier’s head. A woman screamed, drawing the other soldiers’ attention just long enough for Vincent to take them out one by one. He rushed over to the group.

“Are you all right? It’s dangerous here. Get somewhere safe.”

He recognized the boy who had run into him earlier. “Th-thank you! At first I thought you were the monster who took everyone away. But I was wrong!” The boy bowed deeply. “I’m sorry!” 

Vincent reached the harbor and rushed down to the docks.

“So we meet again, Vincent Valentine.” 

Vincent turned. Rosso the Crimson sneered back at him. “I was getting tired of toying with these insects. I needed a little more excitement in my day.” She unsheathed her crossbow. “I’ll make you pay for what you did to me last time.” She rushed forward, and Vincent prepared for an attack from her blades. Instead, she punched Vincent in the stomach, with enough force to send him flying backwards. His hands scrabbled for purchase, and he caught hold of the edge of the cargo hold. He heard Rosso’s footsteps clanging on the metal deck, and when they had reached the edge, he launched himself backwards, flipping over in midair and firing at Rosso. The shot missed, instead hitting an explosive barrel at the end of the deck.

Vincent sprinted out of range of the explosion. He flipped open his phone and called Reeve. “I took care of Deepground.”

“Thank goodness,” Reeve sighed. “Will you reach the ship in time?” 

“Yeah, I’m heading to the docks now.”

No sooner had Vincent hung up than two blades whizzed past his face, lodging themselves into the concrete behind him.

“Where are you going?” Rosso sneered from atop a nearby stack of cargo crates. “We’ve only just started playing. I simply must be the one to kill you.” She unsheathed her crossbow and leapt to stand between Vincent and the ship. “I’m not letting you get away today.”

As before, Vincent Valentine put up a valiant fight. But unlike Rosso, who intended to stay and fight to the death, Vincent merely had eyes for the ship pulling out of the harbor. Rosso cursed under her breath as Vincent leapt over the railing, landing nimbly on the ship’s deck as it sped just out of reach. Before she could continue her pursuit, her phone rang. “What, already? What a shame.” She reluctantly turned from the ship and walked away.

Hovering far above, Nero watched the ship sail away. “More…” he muttered. “I must have more. I want to see more of your darkness.”

To Vincent’s relief, none of Deepground had managed to sneak aboard the ship. He strolled calmly along the deck, enjoying the reprieve from battle. Music played through a cheap set of speakers, stopping Vincent in his tracks.

“This music…”

It was the same song that had played over the radio the first time Vincent had danced with Lucrecia. Vincent closed his eyes, basking in the memory. He began to sway gently back and forth…

A scream cut through Vincent’s reminiscing. 

Tourists fled from the upper decks, and Vincent ran to the source of the commotion. The floor was almost imperceptibly tilted under Vincent’s feet, the angle slowly increasing as Vincent flew up the stairs. 

Two Sahagins snarled, jabbing their tridents at Vincent as he reached the top deck. More monsters swooped down from the skies, terrifying passengers as they fled to the lifeboats. Vincent fired on the monsters, but another half dozen Sahagins leapt onto the deck from the sea.

“My research!” 

One woman shoved past Vincent, running back inside the ship instead of to the lifeboats.

“Wait!” Vincent rushed over and grasped the woman roughly by the shoulder. “Go back.”

“What about my luggage!?”

“Leave it,” Vincent snapped.

“No! All of my research will go to waste!” 

“Research?” Vincent balked for a second. “Is it important?”

“Yes, very important.” 

Vincent tried to protest, but he caught the woman’s eye. Her eyes were the same color as Lucrecia’s. “All right, but I’m coming too.”

“Thank you!”

“Stay close,” Vincent ordered. He escorted the woman through the lower decks, struggling to keep his footing as the ship continued to tilt to the side.

She rushed ahead suddenly, pushing past Vincent and running into her room. “I found it!”

“Come on, we have to get out of here.” As if to emphasize his point, the ship lurched, the lights flickering as the deck tilted more violently beneath Vincent’s feet.

“Thank you, my research is safe. It means everything to me.” The woman couldn’t stop gushing the entire way back to the upper decks. “Truly, thank you.”

Her research… Vincent thought not of the woman he’d just rescued, but of Lucrecia. Wasn’t it the Jenova Project? She was in pain… I… Vincent watched the woman climb into the lifeboat. Important research, huh? 

What was troubling you?

Nero watched Vincent hungrily. The monster attack on the ship had served to draw something from deep within Vincent, a darkness unlike anything he’d witnessed in Deepground.

“I want more… I want to know everything. Darkness lies stagnant in the depths of your soul. I shall assist you in releasing that terrible dark energy.”

He summoned a pool of dark energy behind Vincent, laughing at Vincent’s dumbfounded expression at the sight of his darkness. Nero concentrated, pulling a mechanical beast from the depths of the dark pool. 

Vincent fought with fervor and grace, and Nero watched enthusiastically. Something glowed inside Vincent’s chest, a light from the depths of his darkness.

Even in the midst of battle, Vincent’s thoughts still lingered on Lucrecia.

Were you in pain? Back then… I couldn’t… Guilt, rage, darkness swirled within him, but he felt something else stir deep inside. “I have to make it there,” Vincent muttered, crawling painfully to his feet. “To Shinra Manor… to find out about her…” 

It was too late to save the ship. Vincent let loose, transforming into Galian Beast. He unleashed his full fury, tearing apart Black Widow robot and ship hull alike. Explosions rocked the deck, and Vincent plunged into the icy water below.

I’m sorry… it’s no use…

Lucrecia! Vincent writhed, struggling to resist taking a breath while submerged in the water. He scrambled to swim to the surface.

Live… Live, Vincent!

Vincent’s head burst above the water’s surface, and he gasped for air. Something large loomed in the water beneath his feet, rising steadily, growing larger…

The submarine breached the surface, and Vincent smiled. It was the same one Cloud had commandeered all those years ago. The hatch popped open, and Cait Sith leapt out. “Vincent, ye nae lookin good. I knew something was up. Glad I dropped in to see ye!”

“Cait Sith!” Vincent spluttered. “Hmph, Reeve…” 

“Well done, laddy!” Cait Sith bounded over to the edge of the sub and held out a gloved hand, helping Vincent climb aboard. “Somethin’ didnae feel right. So I followed ye and came to help.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Donnae mention it! But ye ken… I still feel like something’s not right.”

Vincent climbed into the submarine, squeezing the water out of his cape.

“Something’s got to be afoot, and ’round here too.”

“At last I have borne witness to the darkness inside you. Just as strong as I thought. Your darkness… that stagnant life. You are more like us than you know.”

Nero peered curiously at the cat as it escorted Vincent into the submarine. Word was, another such cat had been spotted in the depths of Deepground, its last reported sighting unnervingly close to Weiss’s throne.

“But it seems I have other matters which need attending. An intruder… in my most precious place. All who come close to him will be eliminated.” He peered at the ocean as the submarine sank out of view. “Vincent Valentine. We shall meet again soon enough.”

Shinra Manor… Everything… Everything started there. 

Vincent closed his eyes. He could picture the dining room in the manor, as clearly as if he was standing there at this moment.

All of my sins call that place home. I might find out something about her there… 

He felt her hands on his shoulders, her head resting against him, the tears soaking his suit. 

Lucrecia… 

The pain. The smoking barrel of Hojo’s gun. The helplessness he felt, as Lucrecia increasingly fell into despair before him. Her last words to him before she disappeared.

I’m going back again. To the place you were, to Shinra Manor.

Chapter Text

Cait Sith screamed as he fell into the depths of Deepground. His gloved hands provided little purchase on the smooth steel as he slid down the hull of a massive underground reactor. He rubbed his sore behind, then shook his head and observed the space around him.

“This has got to be the place.”

The place was filled with thick smog and crawling with Deepground soldiers. Cait Sith crept past, careful not to be spotted. Suddenly, the catwalk trembled as something massive creaked along a track running overhead. 

Cait Sith looked up to see a large metal crate trundle across the track. It tilted from side to side, and he could hear screams from within. “That’s the same container I saw in Kalm!” He hurried after the crate, following the track to the interior of the reactor.

He was too late; the crate dropped from the track, plummeting into a vast pool of mako below. “What!?” Cait Sith could only watch as the helpless people plunged into the mako. “Good gracious me!”

But before the crate hit the mako’s surface, a massive hand emerged from the depths, grasping the crate with such strength its walls buckled. Just as quickly as it appeared, it withdrew, dragging the crate into the depths after it.

“What in the blazes is growing down there?”

“Usher of souls.” 

Cait Sith whirled around; a young man with mechanical wings stepped calmly forward. His arms were restrained, his face covered in a mask. Dark energy oozed from his body like a cloud of smoke. “My brother. Omega.”

“It’s Nero the Sable.” Cait tried to run, but darkness lapped at his ankles, pulling him into its depths as it swirled around him. “Oh dear…”

Reeve sighed deeply as the link between him and the Cait Sith investigating Midgar was broken. He paused for a moment, somberly mourning the loss of yet another feline companion. Then he thought on what he had heard from Nero.

“Omega... I should have known.”

Vincent pushed open the door to the basement of Shinra Manor. His heart pounded in his chest; there was nothing to indicate that Deepground was nearby, but just being in this place again set Vincent on edge.

He nearly blasted a hole in the library door when a small materia rolled across the floor. It stopped at Vincent’s feet, and against his better judgement, he crouched down and picked it up. It shone brightly in his hand, projecting an image behind him. By the time Vincent turned to face it, the figure had materialized so solidly it was as if she was standing in the room with him.

“Lucrecia!”

“Vincent, right?” Lucrecia sighed, hanging her head. “Have you come to check up on me?”

She walked forward, and Vincent unthinkingly held his arms open to embrace her. The hologram walked right through him. 

“Omega,” the hologram continued, oblivious to Vincent’s pained expression. “His awakening is upon us. ’Soul wrought of terra corrupt, quelling impurity, purging the stream to beckon forth an ultimate fate. Behold mighty Chaos, Omega’s squire to the lofty heavens.’ I came across this passage while studying the scriptures of the Ancients. The Chronicles of Yore. Omega. The end.”

Lucrecia stretched her hands out. “Just as all other sentient beings, he too, is born of the Lifestream.” Wisps of Lifestream flickered into being beside Lucrecia. “However, his only purpose is to cleanse the planet of all things living and lead their immortal souls through the abyssal aether to a new beginning far, far beyond the neverending sea of stars. Just as life circulates through our planet, so too, does our planet through the universe. Or at least in theory.”

The wisps of Lifestream disappeared, and it felt like the room had grown much darker. “However, what I can be certain of is, if Omega awakens, then all life as we know it will end. And when Omega has embarked on his journey to the cosmos, our planet will wither and die.”

Lucrecia stood in silence for a long moment. Then she heaved a sigh and turned her gaze ahead. “I will leave a copy of my records here for you, Vincent. Though I cannot imagine what help they might be, if any at all. Just remember…” The hologram began to flicker. “I am so sorry.” 

The image disappeared, and the materia shattered in Vincent’s hand.

“Lucrecia…”

A floppy disc lay on the table by the library, the same place the materia had been waiting for him before it rolled to his feet. Vincent picked it up, then scanned the room for any more clues. He found scraps of paper labeled “Omega Report”—his heart ached as he spotted his father’s name on a few of the pages. The pages looked to have been torn out of books, as if by a madman who knew nothing of the importance the pages held. 

Vincent continued into the lab. It felt as if something suddenly seized his heart, squeezing with impossible strength. He blinked, only seeing Lucrecia’s face, staring at him through the mako… through the glass… “This pain.”

Someone stepped into the lab; Vincent could hear footsteps approaching the door. “Well, well,” a familiar accent drawled. “We meet again.” Rosso leaned casually against the console. “This is perfect. I so wanted to see you, my love.”

“Deepground,” Vincent gasped, trying to recover from the pressure squeezing at his chest. “What are they attempting to do with Omega?”

“I don’t know,” Rosso shrugged. “And to be honest, I don’t care.”

“What?”

“But this is what Weiss desires. Hail Weiss.” Rosso grinned. “And what Weiss orders, we do. It is very simple. If he desires the awakening of Omega, then that is what all of Deepground desires. We could care less what happens to the planet.” Rosso giggled. “But all this matters little to me. It is not every day you are granted the chance to cleanse the world of all life. Just the thought sends a chill of excitement through my body.” She glanced at Vincent with a seductive, half-lidded expression. When he didn’t reciprocate, she frowned. 

“The Deepground soldiers were born and bred to kill. We were chained to a destiny of servitude. But then three years ago, we were freed from our chains—though waiting for us was darkness lit only by the faint glow of mako. And what do you think we did when we gained our freedom?” She laughed. “We killed. That is how we were raised. That is all we knew. And so I bathed in the blood of a thousand soldiers. And I enjoyed it. I reveled in it. And when I finally stepped out of the abyss, I craved for more. You understand, right?”

“I don’t think so.” Vincent aimed Cerberus at Rossos’ chest. She crept backwards, and Vincent kept pace.

“How can you say that, darling? We’re one and the same.” Rosso leapt backwards, rushing up the spiral staircase to the ground floor of the mansion. Vincent ran after her. 

The foyer was empty. Vincent looked around, trying to find any sign of Rosso. He heard her shoes clacking on the tile floor, and he turned to face her-

Rosso jabbed her hand directly into Vincent’s chest, her fingers clawing at Vincent’s heart. She dug around, sending waves of pain through Vincent’s body, before she found what she was looking for. She yanked her hand out of his chest, and Vincent tumbled to the ground weakly.

Rosso twirled a glowing orb in her fingers. “I’m sorry,” she sneered. “Were you not expecting that?”

Vincent tried to stand, but his body spasmed in response. He collapsed, twitching and writhing on the ground. He transformed into Chaos, then back again, still unable to move.

“So, you cannot control the beast without this.” Rosso held up the orb teasingly. “Well, there will be no need for it when I’m done with you.”

Rosso crouched down and drew back her hand, reaching for her blade. A shuriken sliced through the air between her and Vincent, and she leapt backwards to avoid the weapon. The shuriken twirled through the air, circling back to its wielder: a small, agile figure in a Moogle poncho. The figure thrust the shuriken into the ground, where it glowed with a blinding light. 

The person in the Moogle poncho hurriedly draped Vincent over her shoulders, dashing out of the mansion. Vincent heard Rosso scream behind them. “Wutai flea!” 

The two of them crouched behind the gate to the manor. Rosso screamed again, then slammed her fist into the ground. “If you manage to survive that wound, I’ll make sure you don’t survive the next one. But no matter. The end is upon us.”

“I… I saw you again.” Vincent gazed at Lucrecia, encased in crystal. “It was the place we first met. But you were…” Vincent shook his head. “No. I’m the one to blame. I couldn’t stop you that day. I just…”

I… found… 

I gave… you…

“Lucrecia?”

I’m so sorry.

Vincent’s chest hurt.

He opened his eyes, staring blankly up at the ceiling. His gaze drifted to the side, his head heavy. A figure in a Moogle poncho stared down at him, its red pom bouncing playfully. 

“Morning!”

“Where…?” Vincent squinted. “Who are you?”

“Well, I’m glad you asked! I am the champion of the earth and the sky. I am the conqueror of evil. The single white rose of Wutai.” The mysterious figure dramatically threw off her poncho, revealing a stylish blue cropped top and laced shorts. “Yuffie Kisaragi!” Yuffie jumped up on one of the leather seats nearby. “Feast your eyes on- whoa!” She had misjudged the width of the seat, and she stumbled as she tried to regain her balance. She fell backwards, slamming her head against a computer monitor. “Owww…”

“So, where are we?”

“C’mon,” Yuffie pouted, “aren’t you at least a little concerned.”

“Oh. Yuffie.” Vincent grinned. “It’s been a while. How’s your head?”

“You…” Yuffied pursed her lips. “Could you at least pretend to be sympathetic!?”

Vincent tried to sit upright. The dull throbbing in his chest quickly morphed into sharp pain, and he let out a gasp.

“Hey, take it easy.” Yuffie gently tried to push Vincent back against the seat. “That was a big hole you had in your chest.”

“A hole in my chest?” Vincent fought against both the pain and Yuffie to try and sit up.

“I seriously thought you were a goner, but then the wound healed itself right up.” She gave up trying to force Vincent to lie down, and instead helped him sit upright. “You were always ’different,’ but I guess that’s why you’re still breathing.”

“Yuffie, what are you doing here?”

“Me? I’m just helping out Reeve and his gang. I was poking around Nibelheim and I found you looking all corpse-like in Shinra Manor. So I saved you. Imagine that—me, saving the great Vincent Valentine. Do I get any thanks?”

“Thanks, Yuffie.”

Yuffie awkwardly shook her hands in front of her. “No, no, I didn’t mean for you to take me so seriously.” She scratched the back of her head. “Anyway… Reeve wanted us to contact him as soon as you woke up.”

Yuffie turned to the monitor and began typing. The screen flickered on, showing Reeve standing at a distance, staring up at the camera. Yuffie waved at the camera, then pointed at Vincent, who was now sitting fully upright.

“Vincent has come to? Excellent.” Reeve breathed a sigh of relief. “I have some good news. Using you-know-who, I was able to infiltrate Midgar. However, what I saw wasn’t the prettiest of pictures.” He summarized Cait Sith’s findings: the hand of Omega, dragging helpless civilians to the depths of the mako reactor. “We cannot let them sacrifice the lives of any more people. Once we’ve gathered our forces, we’ll launch a full offensive. Of course, we’ll require the help of you two as well. Please hurry back to headquarters. Oh,” he added, “I’m analyzing the data files you sent earlier. I should have results soon. Tuesti out.”

“There you have it.” Yuffie spun in her seat as Reeve’s transmission ended. “I don’t know what’s going down, but it sounds big. I’ve been waiting a long time to get my hands on those Deepground punks. They’ve had their way long enough. Now it’s time to give them a taste of Pain a la Yuffie.”

Yuffie pumped her fists excitedly, rambling as Vincent listened silently.

“Just give me three minutes with those guys. No, make it two! Well, maybe three, or four… well, it really depends on how many there are, but I think if there was five I could take them in two, or two in five, or three in…”

Shelke awoke suspended in a tank filled with mako.

Where am I?

She wriggled around, her fingers trailing the metal rim of the tank to find the emergency release. The tank drained, and she stepped out into the strange laboratory. She spotted Shalua, asleep at her desk, Shelke’s weapons resting beside the computer. She walked over, careful not to wake her sister, and picked up the weapons. The tip of one blade tapped against the computer, and Shalua instantly jolted awake.

“Shelke! How are you feeling?”

Shelke sighed and raised her blades. “You were a fool to let your enemy live. Now I’m going to kill you and return to Deepground.”

“I don’t think so.” Shalua threw her head back, staring down her nose at Shelke. “I have to admit, I wasn’t myself back there. Seeing you for the first time in ten years left me in a spin. But I’ve had time to recover. And I’m not letting you get away.” She pointed at Shelke. “Not this time. There’s no way I’m going to let you kill me, and there’s no way I’m going to let you go back to Deepground.”

“I don’t recall needing your permission to do anything.”

“And I don’t remember you ever being able to win any of our fights, do you?” Shalua gestured for Shelke to come at her. “How about it? You want to try your luck?”

Before the two could begin their fight, alarms blared. A tinny, robotic voice echoed over the loudspeakers. EMERGENCY. EMERGENCY. ALL BATTLE SQUADS REPORT TO STATIONS. ALL OTHERS PROCEED TO THE UNDERGROUND BARRACKS.

“They’re back!?” Shalua dropped out of her attack stance. “But why?”

“They were waiting for Azul. His death was merely a prologue to the true terror.”

Yuffie had expended the bulk of her energy. She sat across from Vincent, meditating. Vincent had half a mind to join her, but instead he sat idly, feeling the pain in his chest slowly subside.

“We’ll be arriving shortly,” the driver called from the front of the truck. “What the hell?”

The truck jolted violently, throwing Yuffie from her seat. She tumbled across the floor, and her head slammed against the wall, knocking her unconscious. Vincent quickly checked to make sure she was okay, then leapt from the truck.

Chapter Text

Smoke rose from the WRO headquarters.

Vincent ran as fast as his legs would carry him. A Black Widow robot flanked by Deepground soldiers awaited him at the entrance, and he roared, transforming into Galian Beast and tearing through the hordes of enemies. The Black Widow burst into flames, and Vincent returned to human form, racing inside WRO headquarters.

Smoke filled the halls, obscuring Vincent’s view. But he heard the screams. He ran down the hall, coming face-to-face with a massive, four-legged beast crashing through the narrow corridors. “What the hell!?”

“Azul.”

Vincent turned to see Shelke and Shalua staring down the beast. Shalua’s lab coat was missing, fully exposing her prosthetic arm. Azul roared and trundled down the hall; Vincent’s bullets had no effect on the beast’s hide. Shalua leapt into the air, aiming a punch at the monster’s neck, but it batted her aside like a ragdoll.

“Shalua!” 

Shalua gasped in pain, and Vincent tried to run to her side. Azul swiped, sending Vincent flying. The beast then turned its rage to Shelke, casting her aside with another swipe of its massive claw. She hurried to her feet, drawing a glowing orange materia from her pocket and holding it aloft.

“The extreme potency of this shield materia is comparable to that of your barrier field, Azul.”

Azul’s barrier field shimmered, glowing brightly as Azul transformed back into a human. “Shelke,” he growled. “Why do you stand in my way?”

Shelke sighed and put the materia away. “I had to protect myself. You were trying to kill me.”

“Then now is the time.” Azul drew back and swiped at Shelke, who gasped and dodged out of arm’s reach. “You are no longer required. You are no different from the others. Your weak body is nothing without mako. Your only skill is collecting data from inside a virtual reality. It makes me sick to even think of you as a member of the Tsviets.” 

Shelke shook her head in disbelief.

“Weiss has ordered your termination.”

“Weiss!?” Shelke gasped.

“Your mission was to identify and locate the keeper of the Protomateria. That is why we uploaded the doctor’s data into your neural network. But now we no longer need it. And we cannot let it fall into the hands of the WRO.” Azul chuckled darkly. “Your fate has been decided, Shelke. It is time for you to return to the planet.”

Azul froze in his tracks, paralyzed by an external force. Shalua grabbed Shelke’s wrist, pulling her alongside her. “Vincent! Shelke! Let’s get out of here!” She slammed her mechanical elbow into the door control, and Vincent rushed inside.

Shelke refused to follow after Vincent. “Let go of me!”

“I don’t think so. We have ten years to catch up on. I’m not going to let this end here-”

Shalua’s words were interrupted by the door sliding shut. 

“Shalua!” 

Vincent ran to try to stop the door, but Shalua beat him to it, jamming her metal arm into the doorway. It creaked and groaned as the door still tried to close.

“Why are you doing this?” Shelke muttered.

“You can still get through,” Shalua gestured for Shelke to slip through. “Go on.” She tugged on Shelke’s arm, throwing her through the narrow opening. Shelke spun around to face her sister.

“Shelke…” Shalua’s arm buckled, the joints popping under the strain. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t a better sister.”

Heavy footsteps echoed from down the hall. The outer casing on Shalua’s arm popped off, revealing the bent hydraulics within. “I’m sorry I let you suffer so long. Vincent.” Shalua’s voice was barely a whisper. “Take care of her, will you?”

“Wait!” Vincent tugged and tore at the door, but it continued to grind shut.

“Shelke. I’m glad I was able to find you. And remember, I’ll always love you.”

The door slammed shut. Vincent slammed his fists on the door in frustration.

“Why?”

The door shook, accompanied by a horrible, cracking thud. Beige liquid seeped under the door.

“Why did she…? Why?” Shelke lowered her gaze, her eyes twitching. “Shalua…”

Something slammed against the door again. Vincent grabbed Shelke and hurried to the command center. 

He found Reeve sitting despondently on the floor. The command center was in ruins; cracked screens spluttered and fizzled, and the desks lay in pieces across the floor.

“I’m so ashamed.” Reeve’s voice trembled. “I am supposed to be a hero of the Jenova War. But look at me.”

“Don’t take all the blame. You’re not thinking of giving up, are you?” Vincent was never good at this kind of thing, but seeing Reeve’s despair, he had to at least try. “I used to be nothing but a stone in the river of time, but three years ago it was you and the others who taught me I had to move ahead.”

“Vincent…”

It seemed Vincent’s words had the desired effect; Reeve’s eyes glimmered with hope. But Vincent had nothing else to say. He rose to his feet again and walked away.

Yuffie bit back tears at the sight of Shalua suspended in mako. “They say she won’t wake up. She suffered too much trauma to her head. Unless there’s some kind of a miracle, she’s not…” Her heart surged with anger, and she slammed her fist on the desk. “Vincent! You were there! Why couldn’t you save her!?”

Vincent looked down somberly, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m sorry.”

“No. I didn’t mean to…” The rage passed as suddenly as it came, leaving Yuffie’s stomach twisted in guilt.

“She was a fool.”

Yuffie’s anger surged again. She stormed over to the young Deepground girl and slapped her across the face, hard. “You have no right to call her that! Yuffie: You don’t know what-”

Vincent put a hand on Yuffie’s shoulder, snapping her out of her rage.

“Why would she do something so…?” 

Yuffie choked back a sob, storming out of the room.

Vincent watched as the door slammed behind Yuffie, then turned to Shelke.

“Before,” Vincent murmured, “when I asked Shalua what she was searching for, she answered ‘her reason to live.’ It was you, Shelke. You were her reason to live.”

“So? I don’t understand how someone could give her own life for that of another.” Shelke peered up at Vincent. Her expression, usually so flat and unreadable, showed a glimmer of emotion. “Do you understand, Vincent Valentine?”

“I can’t answer for your sister. But… When a person has someone they care about that much, giving their life is sometimes the least they can do. And maybe that’s what makes us human.”

“Someone they care about…”

“Although,” Vincent shrugged, “it seems like there are a lot of people around me who don’t need a reason to risk their lives for that of another.”

“And are you…” Shelke suddenly stumbled forward, and Vincent instinctively reached out to catch her. She stared up at him frantically, her eyes darting between his. “I’m sorry.” She hurriedly pushed Vincent away, murmuring under her breath. “Why are her data fragments responding?”

The door slid open, and Reeve walked in. “Vincent. I agree with you. This is not the time for us to give up. But I need to know something.” He took a deep breath. “Those data files you recovered from Shinra Manor—are you sure there were not any more?”

“I’m sure.”

“I see.” Reeve’s shoulders slumped in clear disappointment.

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, the Omega Report… The file was incomplete. To make any sense out of it, we are going to require the other half. If possible, I wanted to know more about our foe before we launched the attack on Midgar.”

“Are you speaking of Dr. Lucrecia Crescent’s findings?”

Reeve gasped and turned towards Shelke. “Yes. But how did you…?”

“A large quantity of her mnemonic data fragments has been uploaded into my neural network. It was my prime directive to use this data to locate and retrieve the Protomateria. However, not only was the data incomplete, but part of her consciousness began interfering with my own thought processes. It was believed that the missing fragments may have been the reason for this. I can attempt to upload the WRO’s files on the Omega Report. By combining it with the data I possess, you may obtain a clearer picture of what you will be up against.” She hesitated. “And perhaps I can regain control of my mind.”

Vincent exchanged glances with Reeve. Suddenly, the intercom crackled.

“Vincent! Reeve!” Yuffie shouted. “You’d better get out here!”

Yuffie jumped up and down, barely able to contain her excitement. She spotted a dot hovering just over the horizon, and she waved her arms wildly. “Cid! Hey! Over here!”

The Shera raced into view, banking heavily and creating a blast of wind that ruffled Yuffie’s hair. As it began to descend, a fleet of airships appeared over the horizon behind the Shera. Yuffie gasped in awe.

“Wow!”

Cid Highwind cracked a cocky grin, flicking his finger across his nose before returning his hand to the wheel. He flicked on the communication unit and shouted to Yuffie and Vincent below. “What the hell we waiting for!? It’s time to get up ’n go! Come on, get on board!”

Chapter Text

“Forward visibility approximately 95 percent. Radar functioning normally. Wide area scan shows…”

“Communication channels clear. Network channels online. Adjusting settings 6-2-8-1…”

The bridge of the Shera was a bustle of activity, with WRO officers shouting commands and updates at each other in a cacophony that ironically indicated that the airship was running like clockwork. 

Cid Highwind stood in the midst of the chaos. He spotted Vincent wandering the deck. “Hey! Vincent! Long time.” He stepped away from the wheel, and the ship slowly veered to one side.

“Captain!”

Cid quickly returned to the wheel, steadying the airship. “Whoa! Sorry ’bout that.” He laughed merrily. “As much as I’d like to sit down and reminisce ’bout old times, you’ll have to take a rain check. Why don’t you have a look around my bird until the meeting?”

The crew was more than eager to chat with Vincent while performing their duties. A young woman on the western side gushed about her baby chocobo Boco, a river chocobo she kept in the Chocobo Farm in the Grasslands. One crewmember explained that the “colored” Tsviets—Rosso the Crimson, Azul the Cerulean, Nero the Sable, and Weiss the Immaculate—were elite warriors, the greatest of Deepground, and that confrontation with the four would be unavoidable. Another explained that after Meteorfall, attempts to rebuild Midgar were thwarted by mako radiation leaking from the damaged reactors. The contamination meant the only people left in Midgar were vagrants and the soldiers forgotten there after the calamity.

“Most of us turned our eyes away from the problem,” the crewmate mused, “but someday we’ll be forced to face it.”

“Mr. Valentine!” A young man waved Vincent over. “It’s me! Don’t you remember? I was one of the Highwind crew! That bird was a beauty, but this ship’s just as sweet. And you won’t believe this, but she runs on some mysterious ancient power. But you don’t have to worry,” he assured Vincent. “You’ll be safe in my hands. Wait a minute… Where did this button come from? Oh, no,” he laughed nervously, “you didn’t hear anything. Approaching destination!”

Vincent turned to head into the bowels of the airship. He passed a young woman gazing out the window. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” She sighed. “I’ve been a crew member for almost three years now. You’d think after a few hundred flights, I’d get tired of the view. But you know, when I realize that this may be my last time up here—my last chance to take a glimpse of the land I call home, I just… I just wanted to get one last look.”

Vincent found Yuffie bent double next to the engine room. “Man, I hate airships…” Her face was a pale shade of green, and she dry heaved. “I knew I shouldn’t have had eggs for breakfast. Sorry, Vince. I don’t feel like talking much.”

So Vincent continued on. One crewmate mentioned that a “little girl” had locked herself into the sick bay, so Vincent headed that direction. The door was unlocked, and Shelke was sitting in front of a large array of monitors. Shalua lay dormant in a stasis unit on the other side of the room.

“After the assault begins, the headquarters’ facilities will no longer be available,” Shelke explained. “And to think, just a few days ago, I was the one who was in there.” She shook her head. “No, forget I said anything.”

“What are you working on?” Vincent peered over Shelke’s shoulder.

“I’m in the process of modifying this equipment so I can perform an SND—a synaptic net dive.”

“Synaptic net dive?”

“My specialty within the Tsviets. While retaining consciousness, I project an image of myself into a virtual reality called a network. I can also use this ability to negotiate with data on the subconscious planes of sentient life forms.” Shelke hesitated. “However, this often involves a great risk to my own sanity.” She shook her head and regained her composure. “For Shinra, the success of the SND project was crucial for their next step in…” She trailed off again. “I’m sorry. I seem to have gotten off-track. Simply put, I’m creating a personal network terminal within the airship’s main control console.”

Vincent couldn’t help but chuckle.

“What?” Shelke snapped defensively.

“Nothing. You just remind me of your sister.”

Vincent left the sick bay. “That Dr. Rui,” he overheard one crewmate mutter to another. “She done gone sacrificed every thing she had to find that there little sister of hers. But now she’s…” She shook her head. “I just don’t want to see nothin’ like that happen to nobody ever again. And that’s why I packed up and joined the WRO!”

“I took part in the Kalm operation,” the other crewmade responded, “but I wasn’t able to save a single person. That’s why this time, maybe I’ll be able to do something worthwhile. I’m not going to let Deepground have its way anymore.”

Vincent found Reeve sitting forlornly in another room. He perked up when he spotted Vincent. “Thanks to Shelke’s half of the data, I have been able to make more sense of the report.” His gaze shifted briefly to the ground, then back to Vincent. “But I still require more time to piece together the fragments. I will give you all a detailed briefing at the meeting.”

The entire crew gathered at the bridge of the Shera. A WRO trooper in a red beanie had taken the wheel, allowing Cid to stand before the gathered troops. Vincent found a secluded corner and leaned against the wall, folding his arms.

“Alright. Our old buddies and the remaining WRO squads will lead the ground assault-”

“-while we launch our attack from the air.” Yuffie finished Cid’s sentence. Her face was still pale, and she held an ice pack against her forehead.

“Right.” Cid looked a little miffed at the interruption, but he brushed it off. “So Reeve, you ready?”

“Yes.”

Cait Sith received the signal from Reeve, and waved heartily at Shelke. “Alright. Take it away, Shelke!”

“Very well.” Shelke leaned back in her chair, lowering the large helmet over her head. “Data fragment link… successful.” The helmet whirred, and blue lights blinked on. “Commencing synaptic net dive in 3, 2, 1…”

Vincent, Cid, Yuffie, and Reeve awaited the start of the Synaptic Net Dive. The room darkened, plunging them into a pitch black void. The central terminal glowed, the only light source in the room. It projected twinkling dots of light on the walls. 

“What the? Are we in...?” Cid’s eyes sparkled, reflecting the virtual stars.

“What?” Yuffie stepped back as the stars materialized under her feet. It looked as though the group was suspended in midair. “What?”

“Just as we return to the planet when our lifelight has faded, the planet returns to the cosmos when her time has come.” Vincent recognized Lucrecia’s voice. He closed his eyes, basking in the sound as the stars swirled around him. “Anything that has definite shape will one day cease to exist. The same is true for this world.”

Vincent opened his eyes. Before him was the planet, its surface consumed by fire. “Before she takes her final breath, the pure Lifestreams that flow freely beneath her crust will be brought together into one by Omega—the ultimate lifeform.” Green streams of energy emerged from beneath the fiery surface, gathering at the northern pole. “His purpose: to gather all life, sentient and non, and lead it into the sea of stars, where it will embark on a fabulous journey along a road untraveled.”

Vincent exchanged a knowing glance with Reeve. The concept sounded unnervingly familiar.

“However, when Omega has lifted the life from this planet, all that will remain will be an empty shell destined to die silently in the limitless void of space.” The gathered Lifestream shot suddenly into the depths of space. Beneath Cid’s feet lay what remained of the planet, a crumbling barren sphere that crumbled into dust. 

“Omega is the same type of life form as the Weapons we encountered three years ago.” The simulation dissolved, and Shelke’s voice, not Lucrecia’s, sounded through the intercom. “The planet gave birth to these creatures to protect itself just as the planet will ultimately give birth to the final Weapon, Omega, when the end of the world is imminent. In essence, Omega is an elaborate safety mechanism designed solely to maintain and protect the flow of life. Normally, Omega poses no threat to us. It only manifests when the planet has detected something that may cause her danger.” 

“However,” Reeve added, “Deepground is attempting to awaken the beast early. Thus the kidnappings. By slaughtering thousands of innocent souls, they are creating a pure Lifestream in order to trick the planet into thinking the end is near.”

“Why, those conniving…!” Cid shook his fist angrily. “I don’t know what this Weiss character is tryin’, but he’s crazy if he thinks we’re gonna let him get away with it.”

“Right.” Reeve nodded at Cid. “Omega is being revived deep beneath Midgar in Mako Reactor 0. To increase the output of Reactor 0, all the other reactors have been tied into its mainframe. Our objective is to destroy 1 through 8 and slow the reanimation process. Mission details for each squad will be relayed separately.”

“Alright. We’ve still got some time before the big show. You got anything needs tending to, do it.” Cid dismissed the rest of the crew with a wave, then turned to Vincent. “Vince, don’t worry about the reactors. We’ll take care of them. You work on those four wackos.” He strode back to the wheel of the Shera, and Vincent followed. “I don’t like letting you have all the fun, but you know I can’t leave my baby here alone. Cloud and the others will be shutting down the power, and there’s no way we’re lettin’ Yuffie go down there by herself.”

Cid slapped Vincent heartily on the back, then took the wheel. “Sorry buddy. Looks like from here on out it’s Vince versus the Tsviets. We’re counting on you, old pal.” 

Vincent turned to leave, but Cid let out a dramatic sigh. “Yeah, but just look at Cait- I mean, Reeve. When the hell did he become so important? All this you see around you—everything here—he put up the gil for it. ’Course that’s on the condition that I help him save the world. What I want to know is where he got that kind of cash.” He shook his head and grinned at Vincent. “When all this is over, how about we grab a couple of cold ones. Just like the good ol’ days, huh? Even Shera’s been worried about you, and you know how she gets.”

Vincent grinned slightly and nodded. Then he headed to the sick bay. He passed Yuffie, who had once again returned to a shade of green.

“Did you hear?” she groaned. “They attacked Wutai as well. Thanks to my dad and the Wusheng, things didn’t turn out as bad as they could have, but…” She burped, and one hand flew to her mouth. She swallowed hard. “But I’m worried about my old man. He’s not as young as he used to be. He’s gonna have a heart attack one of these days, if not give me one!” She squinted, pursing her lips angrily. “Now, if I was there, dad wouldn’t even have to put down his mai tai. I could take out Deepground with one hand tied behind my back!” She jabbed her fist, but her stomach grumbled loudly, and her hand flew to her face again. “Urp!”

Shelke was still lying in her chair when Vincent entered the sick bay. “So tired…” She blinked groggily at Vincent. “Vincent Valentine.”

“What?”

“This feeling. Is this what you meant by doing something for someone you care about?”

“It seems so.” Vincent chuckled.

“Dr. Crescent’s data has begun defragmenting within my mind. I can see many different images. Images she experienced with you. Interference… Recovery… So tired…”

Vincent smiled and left Shelke to her nap. He rendezvoused with Reeve. “So, no costume today?”

Reeve laughed. “Headquarters was pretty much destroyed by the Deepground forces. But I was able to salvage a few things.”

Cait Sith hopped into view. “Number 6, ready for action!”

“Tell me, Reeve. Who’s backing your operation?”

“Oh, that.” Reeve laughed nervously, scratching his head. “Actually, I’m not sure. I have only met with a representative. However, the WRO is crucial for this planet’s survival. I’m not concerned with the reasons this person has for helping us, as long as he continues writing the checks. Though, I have a feeling it is probably someone who believes he is in debt to the planet.”

“Vincent. You should probably think of getting some rest,” Cait Sith suggested. “Things are going to get really nutty, really soon.”

Vincent couldn’t argue with that. He nodded farewell to Reeve, then started back to the sick bay.

A sudden pain pinched his chest. Vincent let out a cry of pain as his vision started to blur. He recognized the feeling, but he couldn’t stop it. His body transformed into Galian Beast, and he slashed blindly at the walls, his claws leaving deep gashes. The door slid open, and two WRO troopers strolled past. His legs moved of his own accord, trudging after the oblivious women while his mind screamed for him to stop.

“Vincent.”

Vincent turned around. Lucrecia smiled at him, her hands clasped behind her back. He reached out to her, his arm shrinking back to human size again. Lucrecia disappeared.

“What’s happening? A dream?” The engine pounded, louder, louder… Vincent clutched at his chest, the pounding coming from inside him. “Am I losing control?”

“Okay dogs, it’s time!” Cid shouted. “All hands to battle stations! Listen up, ’cause I’m only gonna say this once! If any more of you are killed by those punks, I’ll drag you back from hell and kill you again! You really want to piss off those SOBs, then why not try stayin’ alive! That’s what this war’s all about! If you live, everybody behind you lives. If you die, they die! You got that? Now go kick some Deepground ass!”

Vincent fought to keep his breathing steady. His legs were still shaky, his heart racing so fast it felt like it would burst out of his chest.

“Vincent Valentine.”

Vincent turned to see Shelke holding a small cell phone out to him. She placed it in his hand.

“What’s this?” He asked dumbly.

“Your phone. I retrieved it in Kalm. I’ve modified it slightly,” she added. “Just dial #VIN to contact my personal terminal directly. From this workstation, I can perform a synaptic net dive into almost any network system in Midgar. I may also be able to help guide you into Deepground.”

Reeve folded his arms beside Shelke. He exchanged a knowing glance with Vincent.

“It’s not what you think.” Shelke’s gaze flitted between Vincent and Reeve. “By monitoring your movement, Dr. Crescent’s data fragments are restored within me. I’m simply providing this service for my own benefit.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Vincent smirked.

“I… Anyway…” Shelke stammered, “my resources here are limited. Do not expect too much.”

“I’m counting on you, Shelke.”

Shelke continued to stutter nervously. “I… It’s just I’ve never actually been ‘counted on’ by anyone before.” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

“Well then,” Reeve smiled, “can I ‘count on’ you to keep an eye on the airship while we’re away as well? I have already witnessed your strength and skill once. This is war, and we have to be ready for anything. Your assistance would be of great help.”

“My… assistance?”

“Exactly.”

“Commissioner!” A trooper called to Reeve from the bridge.

“Excuse me. Vincent, I will see you again before deployment. And Shelke remember, I’m counting on you.”

Vincent put his hands on his hips as he watched Reeve walk away. With a nod, he left Shelke, who was still clearly wrestling with something internally. “Fighting for…”

Vincent heard her murmur to herself as he headed to the bridge.

“No, I have no one to fight for. No one at all.”

The truck bounced as it hit a particularly large bump in the road. Cloud Strife took a deep breath, tightening his grip on the handlebars of the motorcycle beneath him. Who let Barret drive?  

“I see it!” 

At Tifa’s announcement, Cloud took a deep breath, steadying himself. The truck doors opened, and he revved his engine. He pressed his driving goggles to his face and pushed them snugly against his nose. “Time to go, Fenrir.”

He drove full speed out of the truck, sending up a cloud of dust as the motorcycle landed on the ground. He skidded in a circle, the rear wheel kicking up more dust, and zoomed past the truck. He heard Barret yell enthusiastically from the driver seat, Tifa chiming in beside him.

Cloud took the lead, pushing Fenrir to its limit. Another truck swerved onto the road behind Barret and Tifa. Then another, and another… a whole convoy followed Cloud as he led them to the ruins of Midgar.

Rosso gazed out at the sunset, basking in the warmth of the sun’s glow. Several airships rose over the horizon, mirrored by several clouds of dust on the ground below.

“A simultaneous attack from land and air,” Azul sneered from beside her. “I think they may be serious this time.”

“They had better be. I’ve been so bored lately.”

“His awakening is near.” Nero lifted his gaze to the horizon, his eyes wide with wild fervor. “Let tonight be the final chapter.”

“This is it! Go!”

The fleet of airships approached Midgar. Deepground was ready for them, as an array of helicopters, Black Widows, and hundreds of soldiers prepared to fire on them. A group of Heavy Armored soldiers launched a barrage of missiles, hitting a couple of airships; one airship returned fire, taking out several Black Widows. Gunfire and missiles filled the air.

The bottom of the airship slid open, and Yuffie steadied her stance on her hoverboard. She waved cheerfully at the troopers waiting behind her. “See you boys later! Going down!”

They’re counting on me.

Shelke rushed to her seat, beginning the SND. Data flooded her mind, current trooper statuses mingling with possible strategic opportunities.

“Advance squad away. Secondary squad, prepare for drop.”

Cloud watched the missiles arc through the air, landing with booming thuds in the dirt around him, decimating the landscape and forcing the convoy into a narrow stretch of land. He pulled the Fusion Sword out of its holster, signaling to Barret behind him to activate the missile launcher. Cloud wove Fenrir between explosions and debris, clearing a path for the trucks behind him. 

A flash of red—Cloud leapt from the motorcycle as the lady in red slammed into the ground in front of him. In an instant, Rosso the Crimson was in the air next to Cloud, the blade of her crossbow clashing against the Fusion Sword.

Cid watched in horror as a particularly large blue brute on the ground fired a rocket into the air. It hit the airship beside the Shera. “What the!?” Cid barely managed to keep her steady as he steered out of the way of the wreckage.

“Transmission with bay 9 lost,” Shelke reported. “Damage to the Shera minimal.”

“Damn!” Cid spat. “They’re gonna pay for that!”

Vincent dropped from the Shera, guiding his hoverboard through the skies. He fired on Dragonfly helicopters and Black Widow robots on his way down, felling two. It was utter chaos; Vincent had to rely on his instincts to avoid wreckage, gunfire, and fallen comrades and enemies as he wove through the battlefield. 

The interior of the sector was far quieter; it seemed Deepground didn’t expect a single man to slip through its defenses. Without the roar of battle, Vincent instead heard the hoverboard hiss and groan beneath his feet. He leapt off just as the battery exploded.

He was in the ruins of Sector 7. The remains of the Shinra building loomed directly ahead of him. Looks like I have to continue on foot.

Just as he leapt to the ground, his phone rang. “What do you think you’re doing?” Shelke scolded. “You have landed several klicks off your target destination. However,” she admitted, “considering the location of the enemy, this could work to your advantage. Head for the central complex and locate a means of reaching the top level. You will only be able to enter Deepground from the upper platform. I’ll contact you again. Shelke out.”

Chapter Text

Sector 7 was like a graveyard. Crumpled train cars were strewn across the ground, and Vincent had to weave through the warped metal, looping in a roundabout path. It was easy to get turned around.

“Mr. Valentine!”

Vincent turned to see two WRO troopers hurrying towards him. “We missed our landing point,” one of the troopers explained. “This looks like the old sector 7 slums. The Train Graveyard.” She snapped into a salute. “Sir, I’ve received a radio transmission reporting the remaining air squads have reached the upper level plates and joined the ground forces.”

“Fine.” Vincent turned to leave.

“Sir… Requesting permission to accompany you until we have reached the complex!”

Vincent shrugged. “Do as you wish.”

“Sir! Thank you, sir!”

Vincent stumbled across a handful of other WRO members. They followed behind him like a row of ducklings as Vincent navigated to the center of the sector. 

“You know, I was born in Midgar.” The first trooper Vincent had found gazed around the wreckage. “My brother and I used to play here all the time. My mom didn’t approve, though. After she died, my brother joined a Shinra resistance group, but was killed when the plate fell and…” She trailed off. “I can’t believe this place is still here.”

“Lieutenant!” Another trooper pointed ahead. “Soldiers!”

Deepground had found them. Vincent led the charge against the Deepground patrols, and it became clear within moments that the troopers Vincent had found were rookies. Their incompetence should have annoyed Vincent, but instead he felt a protective instinct. Like a mother duck, he chuckled to himself.

In the remains of a crumbling station, Vincent found the troopers’ commander.

“Vincent Valentine! Thank you for your assistance!” He stiffened to attention. “To reach the central complex, you must proceed through this maze of decommissioned train cars. However, I have received reports that beyond the graveyard are some of the enemy’s most powerful defenses.

“Alright. I’ll see what I can do.” Vincent turned to leave.

“Wait! I can’t let you go without backup-”

“No.” Vincent shook his head. “You heard what Cid said. Your job is to live. If you come with me, chances are you’ll all die.”

“Understood.” The commander sounded hesitant. “I’ll remain here until the current situation has improved.” He gave Vincent a somber salute. “Good luck, sir.”

Vincent continued through the Train Graveyard, climbing up on the roof of an engine and running across the cars like a bridge. 

The metal buckled beneath his feet, and Vincent tumbled into one of the train cars. He heard the distinctive sound of a handgun being loaded, and turned to return fire.

He lowered his gun at the sight of an injured WRO trooper. “Vincent Valentine,” the man sighed in relief, lowering his gun as well.

“There’s no way out of here?”

“None. I looked all over, but I found nothing. It looks like we’re both stuck in here.”

Vincent had an idea. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed #VIN. “Shelke.”

“Vincent Valentine?”

Vincent explained his situation.

“The only way out of the graveyard is through a nearby underground passage. I’m uploading the location now.” Vincent’s phone beeped as Shelke sent him a map. “Also, up ahead, Deepground has established a heavy line of defense. You probably won’t even break a sweat, but I thought I would let you know.”

Vincent informed the wounded trooper of what Shelke had told him. He guided the trooper out into the open, then directed him to the commander. As soon as the trooper rounded the corner, Vincent’s phone rang.

“Vincent Valentine. You’ve reached the central complex. Proceed up to reach the plate surface.” She gasped suddenly.

“What’s wrong?”

“The approaching Deepground squa-” Shelke cut herself off. “No, it’s nothing. I’ll contact you agai- Aerial troopers.” As if on cue, a half dozen Deepground troopers descended from the skies on jetpacks. “Good luck, Vincent.”

Vincent dove behind train cars for cover, firing at the Shrikes when they drifted into view. He didn’t stick around to wait for more, dodging enemy fire while dashing from train car to train car. He leapt into the air, striking one particularly nasty brute with his heel before continuing to the center of the sector.

Rosso was waiting for him. “Still alive, I see. And you call yourself human?”

“More human than you.”

“More human than I?” Rosso burst out laughing. “Tell me something I don’t already know, darling! I’m a Tsviet! I traded away my human weaknesses for power long ago. It is the path I’ve chosen. And the path I’ll tread. Until I’ve sucked all life from this pitiful world!” She threw her arms to the sky. “And I’m not going to let you get in the way. You’ve lived long enough, Vincent Valentine. And I’ll make sure you don’t come back this time… by slicing you into pieces!”

Vincent leapt out of range as Rosso dashed forward. He aimed Cerberus and fired a round of shots. Half hit their mark, and Rosso grunted in frustration and pain. 

“Do you know why they call me ‘the Crimson,’ darling?” She readied her crossbow. “Let me show you!”

Rosso launched waves of energy from her blade, which Vincent dodged easily. Her rage left her wide open, and Vincent rushed close, striking her with heel and fist until she screamed in rage.

“Someone stronger… than…” She clutched at her torso, gasping in pain. She staggered backwards. “Absurd… Absurd!” Her outburst left her out of breath, and she stumbled to the windowsill. “Our time here together is done. But the mighty Azul awaits. I shall not grant you the pleasure of killing Rosso the Crimson. No one will ever stand above me!”

Rosso summoned a beam of energy in her hand, then lashed downwards, cleaving the metal beneath her feet. “No one! No one! No one!” The metal splintered and creaked, buckling under the weight of the sill. Rosso descended into the smoke and darkness below, cackling maniacally. 

Vincent spared a moment of silence for his fallen foe, then turned to continue on. His phone rang.

“Vincent Valentine. The ground squads have not been able to penetrate the Deepground defenses,” Shelke reported. “The mako reactors are still operating at full capacity.”

“So it seems.” Vincent peered out across the horizon, counting the plumes of mako erupting from the wreckage of the reactors. None had been taken offline.

“What is your location?”

“Shinra Building,” Vincent peered up at the crumbled, burning skyscraper ahead of him, “or what remains of it.”

“The same as it was three years ago,” Shelke noted. “Though, after Meteorfall, there wasn’t much left of Midgar at all. With the exception of Deepground. The passage to Deepground should be located within Shinra building. Search for the president’s personal entrance.”

“Alright.” He moved to hang up, but the pain in his chest surged again. This time, Vincent morphed into Chaos, gurgling and growling as he fought to regain control of his body.

“Is something wrong? Vincent!”

Vincent took a shaky breath. He hadn’t heard Shelke’s voice; he heard Lucrecia’s. His breathing quickened, and he felt lightheaded.

“What’s going on?” Vincent whimpered. “Why is Chaos…? Why now?”

“You really don’t know, do you?” Shelke’s voice was calmer, an almost comforting tone. “The Protomateria helped you control Chaos. Now that you’ve lost it your mental state has become extremely unstable.”

“Protmateria? Control Chaos?”

“Yes. If you recall, you had it extracted from your chest by Rosso.”

The voice Vincent heard next was not Shelke’s. “Chaos. While a part of you, the entity exists independently from the rest of your body.”

“Shelke?”

“Chaos. The harbinger of anarchy.”

Shelke’s voice had returned to normal, but Vincent sensed someone watching him. He spun around to see a hazy image of-

“Lucrecia.”

“Born before the planet dies, he shall gather together all life for Omega’s journey to the sea of stars. That is Chaos. And he slumbers inside you.” Vincent couldn’t tell if Lucrecia was speaking to him, or Shelke. “I’m so sorry. You must fight him. I don’t want you to die…”

“Lucrecia!”

“You must fight him. I don’t want you to die.”

Shelke was jolted out of the Synaptic Net Dive; sparks flew from the helmet, sending shockwaves through Shelke’s body. She threw off the helmet, the sudden lurch to reality disorienting her. 

“Hey! Engine room! What the hell’s going on down there!?” Cid’s voice snapped Shelke back to reality. She raced to the bridge. “Engine room! Dammit!”

“What is wrong?”

“Don’t have a damn clue. All of a sudden, engine levels began dropping like crazy. We haven’t taken any direct hits, so everything should be running like clockwork.” Cid slammed his fist against the wheel to emphasize his point. 

“I will go have a look.”

“Thanks. Counting on you.”

Shelke zoomed down the hall as quickly as her legs would take her. She screeched to a halt inside the engine room.

“It can’t be.”

The room was ablaze. Smoke wafted from between broken gears, and she spotted wisps of dark energy drifting from the wrecked walls. 

“Fancy meeting you here, Shelke.”

Shelke turned to find the source of the dark energy. “You,” she snarled.

“Quite unexpected.” Nero’s eyes narrowed, the mask obscuring his face making it difficult to discern whether the expression was a smile or a scowl.

“Why did you come here, Nero?”

“Why? I was short a few souls, and came to collect.”

“What did you do with the crew?”

“Need you ask?” Nero laughed. “Look around. My mission is complete.”

“Oh…” Shelke spotted Cait Sith lying motionless on the ground. She knew the cat was merely a puppet, but the sight of such a joyful creature consumed by Nero’s darkness stirred something within her. Shelke reached behind her and pulled out her blades. 

“And what do we think we are doing?” Nero sneered.

“I… I don’t really know,” Shelke admitted. “However, since coming here I have realized one thing—I don’t want to let down anyone who’s counting on me.”

“Pure nonsense,” Nero scoffed.

“Nonsense? Perhaps.” She activated her blades, her eyes glowing orange. 

Shelke thrust her weapons at Nero, slashing and swiping rapidly. Nero effortlessly dodged all the blows, so she changed tactics, crossing her blades in an attack pattern that was more difficult to dodge. Several blows struck Nero’s metal wings, and he leapt back out of range. Shelke moved to close the distance, but Nero’s wings flipped around and he fired a barrage of bullets, forcing Shelke to raise a shield. 

Nero’s restraints fell away. He lowered his arms, darkness swirling around him. 

No holding back.

Chapter Text

It was nightfall by the time Vincent found an entrance to the Shinra building. Only one door was accessible through the rubble, though Vincent had to tread carefully to avoid shards of broken glass.

What was once an opulent symbol of Shinra’s power was now a dusty gray wreck. Deepground soldiers and Black Window robots prowled the crumbled halls. Vincent tried to remember the route to the top floor that he and Cloud had taken three years ago, but between Deepground’s renovations and general decay, Vincent quickly found himself turned around. He reluctantly pulled out his phone and called Shelke.

It went straight to voicemail.

Vincent snapped the phone shut and was just about to pocket it when it rang.

“Hey, I got through!”

“Tifa?”

“Wha?” Vincent heard Barret yell from a distance. “You got through!? Yo! Vincent! You still alive!?”

“Of course he is, we’re talking to him, aren’t we? And do you really have to shout right next to my ear?”

“Sorry ’bout that, Tifa!” Barret laughed heartily.

“I apologize, Vincent. Here’s Cloud.”

“Vincent?”

Vincent smiled at the sound of his friend’s voice. “Cloud. It’s been a while.”

“Have you been able to contact the Shera?”

“Cid’s airship?”

“We lost contact about 15 minutes ago. I don’t think we have to worry, though. Those two should be fine.” Cloud didn’t sound too sure of that.

“Yeah.” Vincent heard clanging metal through the phone. “And what about you?”

“What do you think?” Cloud laughed.

“Right!” Tifa added. “You can count on us!”

“When I’m through, there won’t be a single sucka standing!” Barret shouted.

“Right.” A part of Vincent wished he could be out in the field, supporting his friends. But he had a mission.

“And as for you…”

“Don’t worry,” Vincent reassured Cloud. “Leave Deepground to me.”

“Can you hold on a second?” Cloud called over to Tifa. “Vincent, I’m sending you a map of the Shinra Building.”

“Deepground is below the complex,” Tifa explained. “Take an elevator as far down as you can. Good lu-”

“Give ’em hell, Vincent!” Barret interrupted.

“Barret, I thought I told you to-”

“Don’t go getting yourself killed, now.” Cloud hung up.

Vincent followed the map Tifa had sent him. But an old foe awaited him on a round platform on the lowest floor.

“So… Rosso didn’t survive.” Azul closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He let out a low moan. “Something inside you wants out. Its stench is so very familiar.” He let out a hearty laugh. “Come, Vincent! Show me your rage! Now, let the killing begin!”

The floor shuddered, and Vincent realized the platform was an elevator. Azul pulled out a machine gun twice the size of Vincent and began to fire rapidly, spraying gunfire in all directions. Vincent roared and transformed into Galian Beast, tanking several bullets as he rushed Azul. 

Azul took a few blows from Vincent’s claws, then leapt out of range, laughing. “This is how a battle should be. Don’t you think so?” Pain shot through Vincent’s chest, and he fought the urge to awaken Chaos. Azul chuckled at the sight. “Now feel my true strength. Feel the wrath of Azul the Cerulean!”

Azul glowed bright purple, morphing into the horned beast Arch Azul. Between the stabbing pain in Vincent’s chest and Azul’s armored hide, Vincent could barely land a scratch. One swipe of Azul’s claw sent him flying headlong into the wall. 

“Stand!” Azul roared. “This isn’t over yet.”

Vincent shakily pushed himself to his feet. 

“Good. Now come and fight.”

Azul barely got the last word out before Vincent zipped underneath him and reached forward to land a desperate blow. He couldn’t hold back Chaos; light exploded from underneath Arch Azul, who had no choice but to retreat and shift back into human form.

“Why you!” Azul panted heavily, turning to glare at Vincent. He raised an eyebrow. “Chaos?”

Vincent reached down and picked up Azul’s gun from the floor. His lips curled into a wicked grin, then he rushed forward and thrust the weapon into Azul’s stomach. 

Azul gasped weakly, fingers scrabbling against the gun, trying to pull it out of his body. “It looks like you were more a beast than I,” he muttered. The gun didn’t budge, and blood oozed from Azul’s wound. “Very well. I’ll see you again, Vincent… in hell!” 

Chaos didn’t hold back. He shot a beam of energy at the dying Tsviet, and the blast knocked Azul off the edge of the platform. “Hail Weiss!” Azul laughed maniacally as he plunged into the depths.

“So that is Chaos.” Nero watched from above as Chaos twitched and writhed, letting out an inhuman roar. “Intriguing. ‘Soul wrought of terra corrupt.’ Perhaps I should simply let him live out his destiny of destruction.”

I’m so sorry.

“Chaos,” Vincent muttered, staring blankly up at the ceiling as his body slowly returned back to normal. “Lucrecia used me to…” he growled. “Lucrecia… So this pain is…” 

He pushed himself into a sitting position. Light reflected off a small object a few feet from Vincent. He crawled over to get a better look.

“Shelke?” The object was Shelke’s cell phone. But before Vincent could question why the phone was here, the elevator shuddered to a halt. A massive door loomed before Vincent, dotted with dials and knobs and locks that had long since been shattered.

Deepground. Shinra’s dark secret. Three years of hell below and now a world of hell above. The path to darkness opens once more.

Chapter Text

Deepground was an entire city. 

Vincent paused for a moment, in awe of the sheer scale of the facility. Mako Reactor 00 loomed in the center, stretching up to a cold metal ceiling. Some slats on the ceiling flickered with images of stars, indicating that it at one point displayed a simulated sky. Winged humanoid creatures flitted from the rooftops, a harsh reminder that Vincent was unlikely to find anything human in these depths.

Vincent had made it halfway to the reactor, fighting an array of Deepground troops and monsters along the way, when a dark whirlpool of energy erupted under Vincent’s feet. He started to run, but the pool expanded rapidly, sucking Vincent back towards the center like a black hole. Vincent’s chest burned, and he roared, Chaos raging within him. 

No. Don’t let Chaos control you. You cannot be contained by his darkness because a part of you was born from it. Find yourself. Regain control.

Vincent recognized the voice that echoed from the darkness, but he couldn’t put a finger on who it was. He trusted the voice, closing his eyes and steadying his breath. He felt something new: not the suppression of Chaos controlled by Protomateria, nor the frantic thrashing of a beast deep within him. 

Vincent leapt out of the darkness.

“As old as he is, and still acting like a helpless child. I can see why Lucrecia had such a difficult time.” Shelke pulled her knees closer to her chest, watching the darkness swirl outside her shield. The surface spiderwebbed with cracks as the darkness pressed against her bubble. “I don’t know why I’m doing this. I will die when my magic runs out, anyway.”

Is this…?

Shelke looked up and gasped. Instead of her bubble in the darkness, she was instead in a sparkling crystal cave. She watched as Lucrecia Crescent ran into view, giddy as a schoolgirl, while a tall man in a dark cape followed. The man was the spitting image of Vincent, yet older, more world-weary.

The environment shifted, morphing into a lab. Shelke watched as Vincent’s father pushed Lucrecia out of the way of a surge of dark energy, taking the brunt of the explosion in his right arm.

“Dr. Valentine!” Lucrecia clutched Grimoire’s body as it dissolved into the Lifestream. “No! Come back! Why did you have to fade away!? Why did you…”

“It’s alright,” Shelke murmured as she watched Lucrecia sob in the darkness. “He simply returned to the planet.”

“Stop crying, Shelke.”

Shelke turned around. She knew this field, she remembered every flower that bloomed around her. 

“It’s alright. Mom just returned to the planet. We’ll see her again.”

“Is this…?” Shelke turned slowly. She spotted two girls; one was crying, curled in a ball before a mound of dirt with a wooden cross jutting out of the soil. “No…” The other girl, who was comforting the crying child, had short red hair and round spectacles. “Shalua?”

“Mom said everything in this world flows around in a circle. That means she’ll come back someday. Mom wouldn’t lie to us, right?”

“Shalua…”

Shelke sensed someone standing beside her. She turned to see her sister staring blankly ahead into the dark.

“Shelke.” Shalua kept her gaze fixed firmly ahead. “Is it alright for me to return to the planet?”

Shelke dropped her gaze. “No.” She felt Shalua’s gaze turn to her. “Not yet. There’s still so much I…”

She felt a hand on her head. Shalua ran her fingers through Shelke’s hair. “Don’t worry. We’ll see each other again.”

Shelke opened her eyes. She was back in her bubble. “A dream? No…” She shook her head. “Data interference.” Something wet trailed down her cheek. Shelke gasped and wiped her face, gazing longingly at the tears glistening in her palm. “I didn’t think I had any tears left.”

Vincent continued through the city, inching ever closer to Reactor 00.

“A pleasure to finally meet you, Vincent.”

Vincent turned to see a young man with wild black hair and metal wings sneering at him. “Nero.”

“At first, I thought you nothing more than a nuisance.” Nero narrowed his eyes. “However, it seems I can no longer let you run about unchained. I must protect my beloved brother.”

“Your brother?”

“Dear Weiss. Powerful Weiss. The only person who ever loved me. And the only person I will ever love.” The dark energy surrounding Nero quivered. “However…” His voice cracked, his eyes shimmering as they welled up with tears. He lowered his gaze, as if in mourning, then let out a long sigh. “But that is all forgotten. In a matter of moments, everything will change.”

Vincent wasn’t in the mood for a monologue. “What did you do with Shelke?”

“Shelke?” Nero seemed taken aback by Vincent’s abrupt change of subject. “Ah yes, what did I do with her? I do recall running into the lass when I journeyed to the airship. A feisty one, she is. The girl is inside me, lost like a little puppy.”

Vincent calmly lifted Cerberus and aimed it at Nero’s chest.

“So you wish to dance?” Nero sneered. He summoned two balls of darkness, then reached inside and pulled out a pair of handguns. “Shall we?”

Nero was nimble and cunning, but without the threat of darkness to use to his advantage, he quickly fell to Cerberus’s bullets. Yet even in defeat, Nero maintained his cool demeanor. “Impressive. Perhaps Azul and Rosso never stood a chance against the mighty Valentine.” He rose to his feet. “But enough. I have other matters to attend to.”

He summoned a ball of darkness around Vincent, and Vincent made no move to resist as he was drawn in once again.

“So this is the end.” 

The cracks in Shelke’s shield deepened, the sides buckling slightly under the strain against the darkness. Chips fell, letting darkness trickle inside. Shelke closed her eyes, burying her face in her knees. 

“I think you dropped this.” 

Shelke gasped. Vincent stood casually outside her bubble, holding her cell phone out to her. 

“Unless you find something appealing about this place, I suggest we leave. Let’s go.”

Vincent took Shelke’s hand and pulled her out of the darkness. Nero awaited them; though clearly surprised at their arrival, he quickly recovered his composure. “I see. ‘Soul wrought of terra corrupt.’ My darkness would have no control over you, would it? So I must try a different dance. How about-”

 His words were interrupted by a shuriken whizzing past his face, embedding itself in the ground at his feet.

“Even in a world where fear and despair reign over the heavens, you must never forget—where there is shadow, there is always light!” A figure in a Moogle poncho monologued from atop a nearby tower. Nero and Vincent exchanged dubious glances. “That’s right! Bask in my rays, evildoers! Feel the radiance of Wutai Super Ninja, Yuffie Kisaragi! Back and ready for action!”

There was a long pause.

“My brother calls.” Nero summoned a portal of darkness and hurried within.

With Nero gone, Vincent turned his attention back to Shelke. “Are you alright?”

Shelke groaned. Her eyes fluttered open. “I… I don’t know. Maybe I was dreaming.”

“Hey!” Yuffie called from the tower. “Over here, guys!” She waved frantically, so frantically that she lost her balance and toppled off her perch and onto the ground.

Vincent sighed.

Vincent carried Shelke out of the square and into a nearby facility. At her direction, Vincent hoisted her into a large tank and filled it with Mako. “Will you be alright?”

“Yes. Thank you.” Shelke slowly closed her eyes.

“Okay!” Yuffie clapped her hands to get Vincent’s attention. “Now, let me see if I’ve got this. You keep going, find Nero and Weiss, and smack ’em into next Tuesday. And while you’re cleaning house, I sneak into the reactor and shut her down. Sounds like a plan. So, see ya around, Vince!”

Vincent shook his head, fighting a smile. He turned to leave the facility.

“Vincent Valentine.” Shelke’s eyes fluttered open again. She glanced around in confusion. “Another dream?” She spotted Vincent. “Vincent Valentine. Why are you fighting this battle?”

“To destroy Deepground and stop Omega’s return. It’s time that an end is put to this madness.” Vincent hesitated. “Or at least, that is what I tell myself. Though I’m not completely sure that’s the reason.”

“Not sure,” Shelke repeated. “Neither am I. But, Vincent… I don’t want to see the world end. I just… don’t want there to be any more pain.”

Chapter Text

The reactor was quiet when Vincent entered. Every member of Deepground who would deign to stand in Vincent’s way had been eliminated. If what Rosso had told Vincent was true, every living creature in Deepground relished the opportunity to kill. That nothing else attacked indicated to Vincent that there was nobody left.

Nobody, that is, save Yuffie. 

“You don’t look too roughed up.” She leapt from the catwalk above Vincent.

“Neither do you.”

Yuffie turned ahead, to the lone door at the end of the long hall. “In there, huh?”

“Yeah. Come on.” Vincent led the way, with Yuffie following close behind.

Vincent crinkled his nose as he entered the next room; it smelled sharply of mako. His shoes clanged against the metal floor, Yuffie’s pace almost double his as she hurried to stay at his side. Directly before them, in the middle of a pool of mako, was a throne. Something was draped across the seat; Vincent stepped closer to get a closer look.

He reeled back in shock, the smell signaling the gravitas of the scene before Vincent could comprehend what his eyes were seeing. “This is Weiss?”

“It’s- he’s- it’s dead?” Yuffie dry heaved at the sight; the man slouched on the chair had clearly been decaying for a while.

“But not for long.” Vincent and Yuffie both turned to find Nero entering the room. “A new life breathes inside him. Just as one does in you, Valentine.”

Yuffie glanced back and forth between Vincent and Nero, clearly confused. But Vincent merely shook his head. “That’s what you’re doing.”

“What’s he doing?” Yuffie looked between the two men frantically. “What’s he doing? What’s going on? I don’t get it.”

“Soon, my dear brother will awaken.” Nero smiled contentedly. “It seems like an eternity since I was granted the knowledge of rebirth.”

“Granted?”

“By who?” Yuffie asked.

Nero didn’t answer. His gaze instead turned to the mako pool surrounding Weiss. A rumbling growl sounded from its depths, disturbing the mako and bathing the throne in light.

“What!?”

“Omega!?”

Yuffie and Vincent both turned and raised their weapons against the throne. As soon as Vincent raised Cerberus, he realized his mistake.

“Stay away from my brother!” Nero screamed from behind. Waves of dark energy erupted, consuming Vincent and Yuffie before they could react.

Vincent heard Yuffie’s screams echo from afar, and he sped to her side. He found her curled into a ball, wisps of dark energy bombarding her. He reached into the darkness and pulled her against him as she succumbed.

Yuffie awoke in the reactor. Screams still echoed in her mind, making it difficult to hear anything. She thought she heard a man’s voice. She pressed her hand to her head and opened her eyes.

“You alright?”

“What the heck was that?” Yuffie groaned. 

“Oblivion perhaps.” She hadn’t thought much of the twiggy young man before. But now, the mere sight of him sent a chill down Yuffie’s spine. “My darkness—it can absorb as well as extract almost anything. However, some things remain,” Nero raised a hand and summoned a small ball of darkness, “things as black as the heart of a daemon.” The screams in Yuffie’s head faded, as if drawn to the energy in Nero’s hand. He clenched his fist and let out a sigh. “The essence of death. Its ululations are like a lullaby.”

“How can you-”

Vincent moved to stand between Yuffie and Nero. “Yuffie, stay here.” 

“Ah yes, you were invulnerable to the darkness.” Yuffie watched helplessly as Vincent and Nero were plunged into a dark sphere of energy. “No one will take my brother away from me again.”

Vincent was in another realm. Fragments of stone floated in an undulating green abyss. It reminded Vincent of the depths of the Northern Crater. A pool of darkness manifested on the underside of a rock overhead, and several spindly mechanical legs emerged. It was like a giant spider, and at its center, where the head should be, stood Nero.

Arachnero fought from a distance, its thin body and rapid movements making it difficult to get a hit on it. Almost by chance, one of Vincent’s bullets knocked away the rock beneath the creature’s feet. It scrambled across the surface, the remaining legs slipping and scratching as they tried to grip the rock, but it was too late. Nero plunged into a pit of lava below.

But the fight wasn’t over yet; Nero shot from the lava pit, screaming and writhing in pain. Vincent took the opportunity to close the distance, firing on Nero before he could get his bearings. Nero let out a pathetic whimper, clutching his side as the darkness faded.

“Weiss…”

“Weiss…” Nero limped to his brother’s side. “My beloved brother. It is time.”

The corpse of his beloved brother twitched, emitting a guttural moan. The sound made Nero’s heart surge, and he smiled warmly as Weiss rose to his feet. Weiss chuckled… then laughed, then cackled, his voice booming loudly. 

“Together at last.” Nero almost wept tears of joy. “I won’t leave you again. Never…” He reached out, wanting to embrace his brother, to feel his warmth once again. “Weiss…”

Weiss smiled. He drew his hand back and thrust it into Nero’s stomach.

“Weiss?” Nero gasped, the physical pain nothing in comparison to the sting of betrayal.

“I’m finished with you.” Weiss threw Nero across the room as easily as a ragdoll, his mechanical wings shattering as his body hit the floor.

Weiss let out a hearty cackle, leaping into the air. Vincent fired Cerberus, but Weiss blocked each bullet with his arms. “Your weapons are useless. My body is one with Omega,” he growled. “Just as yours is with Chaos. The difference being, Chaos is nothing more than a pawn whereas Omega is the ultimate Weapon that will lead this planet’s soul to the stars.” Weiss lifted his arms to the sky. “There is nothing that can destroy me. Nothing.” He let out a small chuckle and put a hand on his hip, regarding Vincent calmly. “Vincent Valentine. And so we meet again.”

“What?” The hair on the back of Vincent’s neck prickled. Something about Weiss’s mannerisms was unnervingly familiar, but he couldn’t place who the Tsviet reminded him of.

“Still in the dark?” Weiss sneered. “Three years ago, while I was still running about looking for Sephiroth, I took it upon myself to distribute my data,” he pointed to his head, “my mind, my knowledge, my inner being, across the worldwide network. And even though my body had died, and the world had been left in ruin, I survived in a virtual reality. When the network was restored, the scattered data regrouped and I was reborn.” He chuckled knowingly. “A neo-Reunion, you could say.”

Vincent’s heart fell to his stomach. “You…”

Weiss laughed again, but this time, Vincent heard the echoes of another laugh, a high, grating cackle. “That’s right, boy. It’s me. Hojo!” Weiss—Hojo—cackled again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Let us do this right. Hello, Vincent. How long has it been? Three years?”

The man that stood before Vincent was Weiss, but the way he moved, the twitch of his lips, the hunch of his shoulders… his mind had trouble making sense of it. But Hojo spared Vincent no time to process.

“You know, when I first read it, I thought that woman’s thesis was utter nonsense. I couldn’t believe some fabled beast from legend past had anything to do with your survival. However, three years ago when you transformed into Chaos right before my eyes, I must say I was shocked. Who would have thought her theory was actually valid?”

Vincent stared blankly at Hojo—no, Weiss—as he continued to speak. He still struggled to accept what he was seeing, his vision almost flickering between the silver-haired man standing before him in the present and the bespectacled scientist who haunted his past.

“And so I began thinking,” Hojo continued. “If Chaos exists, then so too must Omega. And if you could become one, then maybe I could become the other to traverse the cosmos in a blaze of glory! It was the chance of a lifetime. But there was a problem. Only a strong shell could hold back Omega’s might. And it could not be just anyone. You see boy, the reason you were able to play such a perfect host for Chaos was because my experiments had endowed you with a nearly indestructible body. Thanks to me, you are standing here today.”

Vincent scoffed. The thought of owing anything to Hojo made him see red. 

“Now, where was I? I attempted to perfect my body for Omega by injecting myself with Jenova’s cells. However, that didn’t go as I had planned. I failed to consider the fact that the cells might try to take over my mind and eat away at my soul.” 

Vincent suppressed a laugh at that. It was a fitting end for a man so consumed by hubris; knowing that it wasn’t the man’s final end only fueled Vincent’s bubbling rage.

“And so, as a safety measure, I came up with a brilliant plan to transmit my neurodata across the worldwide network. However, after completing this, I realized I still required a durable body. And that’s when I remembered Deepground—home to the most powerful beings on this planet. I even found a willing assistant in the lad Nero here to help carry out my so-called rebirth. Though never did he expect I would take control of his ‘beloved’ brother’s mind.” 

Weiss kicked dismissively at Nero’s lifeless body, then snickered derisively.

“And thus, with a new body, I began my final experiment. If the Chaos within you was born of a tainted Lifestream, then the almighty Omega would be born of a pure one. So I had my minions gather up the ‘uncontaminated’ to create a stream of refined mako, thus awakening Omega inside me.” 

Uncontaminated? Vincent’s heart plummeted. Those who survived geostigma. The ones who were never infected. Spared from the despair of Sephiroth, only to be swept into Hojo’s hell. 

“Genius, I tell you. Pure genius.” Hojo cackled. “Pure genius. Only a scientist of my caliber is worthy to become one with Omega and leave this planet for the stars!”

“Hojo…” Vincent finally raised Cerberus against the madman. “I’ve heard enough.”

For a moment, he forgot that the man who stood before him was a Tsviet, not a helpless old scientist. Weiss was quick to remind him of that reality; he sliced Vincent’s bullets in two with his twin blades, then fired bullets from the same weapons when Vincent attempted to reload. Vincent dodged out of the way, but Weiss was inhumanly fast. He kicked Vincent in his side, sending him sprawling to the ground.

“You’re getting old, Vincent Valentine.” Vincent still heard Hojo’s voice in Weiss’s taunt. “You just can’t leave me alone, can you? Now, sit right there. I want you to see this. And once I have absorbed the Lifestream…” Weiss raised his hand, and the reactor shuddered. Glowing green energy surged into his outstretched arm.

“Wait.” Vincent struggled to his feet. “This isn’t over.”

“So eager to die, are we?” Hojo sneered. “Very well. I wanted to test out this body before I began my journey, anyway.”

The fight barely lasted a few seconds. 

“That wasn’t much of a test,” Weiss scoffed. Vincent’s body began to glow, the monster within taking control. “Chaos.” Chaos tried to rush at him, and Weiss barely lifted a finger to strike him back. “You already tried that, Vincent.”

Shelke jolted awake. “Vincent.” She sensed Vincent in the depths of the reactor, fragmented data drifting into her mind through the mako. “Vincent. You cannot defeat this enemy by simply trying to overpower him. Take control. Don’t let Chaos rule you.”

Lucrecia flickered into Vincent’s view. He wasn’t sure if what he was seeing was a message, a premonition, or a mako-fueled hallucination. But his gut told him to trust what he saw.

“You must rule Chaos. You can do it!”

“Enough of this charade!” As Weiss lifted his hand, Lucrecia’s image shattered, but still her voice seeped into Vincent’s mind. Please, Vincent.

“It looks like our Dr. Crescent has a friend. But she won’t help you now, Vincent Valentine.” With that, Weiss thrust his hand out, summoning a wave of energy.

Vincent blocked it with one hand.

“Why you! Utilizing the Protomateria to draw forth Chaos while maintaining your human form!? Interesting. Let’s see what you are capable of.”

Weiss rushed at Vincent, but Vincent was ready this time. He dodged every blow.

“But even with the power of Chaos, you won’t be able to stop me—stop Omega.”

“Hojo.” Vincent leapt out of range of Weiss’s blades. “I said I’ve heard enough. It’s time to end this. Right here. Right now.”

“You insignificant fool!” Hojo spat.

This time, Weiss and Vincent were evenly matched. The fight fell into a rhythm, almost a dance, as the two men bobbed and weaved, firing shots and dodging melee blows. Settling into such a rhythm, it became abundantly clear that Weiss was losing steam. To the untrained eye, he was still an impervious force of nature. But over time, Vincent chipped away at his health until Weiss staggered back, collapsing onto the floor.

“Why!? Why is Omega’s power fading? Why?”

“Weiss.” A voice echoed. 

“What is going on?”

A pool of darkness opened at Weiss’s feet. A shadow rose from its depths: a twiggy young man with wild black hair. “Weiss.”

“Impossible!” Weiss’s body shimmered, as if leaking darkness from within. “Get out of me! Omega’s host must be pure! Why do you think I had you create mako untainted by Jenova!? If a filthy being like you infected it…”

“Silence.”

“What?” Hojo opened his mouth, clearly intending to continue his protest.

“Silence! I’m speaking with my brother.”

“You’re what?”

Nero ignored Hojo and crouched down beside his brother’s body. “Dear Weiss…”

“Nero.” The voice was very clearly Weiss’s.

“Brother!” Nero wrapped Weiss in a warm embrace, then pulled back, keeping his hands firmly on his brother’s shoulders. “Let us become one. Let us come together, so that none may ever tear us apart.” He buried his head in Weiss’s chest, pulling himself against his brother.

“Yes. Let us,” Weiss murmured. “Let us go join him.”

“Weiss…”

“Nero…”

“No! Stop it! You can’t!” Hojo protested. “This is my body now!” Weiss shook his head, as if shaking the remnants of Hojo from his mind, then slowly stood. He stumbled towards the throne in a daze, Hojo screaming in Weiss’s voice. “No!”

Weiss faded into the Lifestream.

“Vincent!”

Vincent turned from the throne to see Yuffie rushing towards him. “We did it!” She raised her hands for a high five. 

The throne lurched violently, thrown asunder by a surge of the Lifestream. Vincent shoved Yuffie out of the way, taking the brunt of the explosion.

“Vincent!”

Deepground had fallen. The WRO declared a resounding victory as night fell.

But it appeared Yuffie and Vincent had failed. One by one, each of Midgar’s mako reactors sprang to life, erupting in plumes of glowing green energy. Thick tendrils of the Lifestream snaked up the remains of the Shinra building, siphoning the energy from the reactors as well to materialize into a Weapon of enormous size.

Its head suddenly shattered as a flash of red burst from within, zooming around the skies above. The Weapon simply gathered more energy to restore its shattered form. 

Shelke watched from the terminal within Deepground as the events unfolded. “Omega has awoken. And Chaos has been,” she pondered, “drawn out of the shadows to serve as a counterbalance. Or so it would seem. However…” Shelke walked over to a seat in the corner of the room. It was dusty, and she prayed that it would work. 

The machine shuddered to life. “In theory, the souls that exist inside Omega should act as a type of virtual network. It wouldn’t be impossible, but maybe I could…” Shelke took a deep breath. “Vincent, be grateful that I not only uploaded Lucrecia’s thoughts, but her wishes and dreams as well.” She leaned back and started the Synaptic Net Dive. “Uplink successful. Now commencing SND.”

This version of the SND was far more primitive than the versions she was used to using. To traverse the network, she had to transport a more corporeal version of herself through the Lifestream. And that wasn’t the only hurdle; the pathways were corrupted, manifesting as dark tendrils that wrapped around Shelke’s arms and legs, securing her in place. She strained against the black strands.

“Just a little more…”

Something glowed directly ahead. Shelke reached out, the black strands tugging at her outstretched arm. A pair of glowing hands placed a materia in Shelke’s hand. “Here…”

The black tendrils tried futilely to stop Shelke, but the materia in her hands provided a glowing barrier. The darkness couldn’t hold Shelke back as she rocketed towards Chaos, bursting through his chest and embedding the Protomateria back in its rightful place. “Take this… Vincent.”

Vincent watched as the black tendrils wrapped themselves around Lucrecia, dragging her away from him and into the depths of Omega. Chaos let out a pained roar. 

Shelke scoured the network for any fragments that would be of use to Vincent. She found more of Lucrecia’s memories, of her increasing frustration and hysteria at her failures, the grief of being unable to hold her son. 

She found memories of her own; she watched Nero explain her mission, and allowed herself to bask in the memory for a few moments.

“Who is she?”

“Dr. Lucrecia Crescent.”

“So I am to collect the data files—the fragments she left within the network?”

“Correct. Then you are to use that data to find the Protomateria.”

“That is where he requires your assistance.”

“He…?”

“That information is unnecessary.” Shelke’s loyalty lay with Vincent now; her old Deepground missions were now irrelevant. “Connect with her, Vincent. Connect with her heart.”

“Hello Vincent.”

Vincent was in his usual dream; he sat before Lucrecia’s crystal, but this time she leaned down next to him, dressed in her old lab coat. “Something’s wrong,” she noted. Her voice was unnaturally cheerful as she paced around him. “You see, this is me, but only in a sense. It is merely a reflection created with my remaining data. The real me crumbled away long ago,” she giggled. “Vincent. Do you remember our place? Under that tree?”

Vincent closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he was sitting in that field outside Shinra Manor, the one he’d snuck off to so many years ago. 

“The warm breeze on our skin,” Lucrecia murmured. “I know that it no longer exists. Things fade with time, as do many things in this world. But there are some things that we cannot let disappear.”

She turned to Vincent, as if expecting him to say something. When he didn’t respond, she took a deep breath. “I finally… I finally realized my true feelings. Even if you may never understand them.” 

Vincent didn’t know what to say.

“Not that I mind, though. But,” Lucrecia’s cheery demeanor faltered. “This isn’t how it was supposed to be. I’ve made too many mistakes. And I’ve hurt you so, so much.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “Why did I do what I did? I’m so sorry.” 

Vincent closed his eyes.

“But I’m so happy you survived.”

In that moment, everything became clear. Vincent’s eyes popped open. 

“Lucrecia!!!”

The Synaptic Net Dive left Shelke so weak, it felt as if her mind was mired in fog. She felt the leather of the chair… then long, clawed fingers pressing against her back and legs… then cool stone on her back. She glanced up at her resuer; Chaos stared down at her. 

“You’re late.”

“Sorry about that.” Beneath Chaos’s growl, Shelke could hear Vincent’s voice.

“Not that I mind, though.” The words came instinctively, as if she was speaking words thought of by another. 

“She,” Vincent sighed. “She was always like that. Only believing what she wanted to.”

“So Vincent,” Shelke smiled, “why don’t you try telling her that yourself?” 

“Maybe I will.” Vincent reached out his arm, and a gun materialized out of thin air. “But before that, I have a story to end.”

Chapter Text

The path to Omega was fraught with obstacles. The winged form of Chaos gave Vincent an advantage, but the Weapon had amassed an army of strange creatures to protect it: things not quite organic, but not quite mechanical. Still, Vincent pushed through, and had almost reached Omega when it redoubled its shield, expanding it to such a degree that it crushed one of the mako reactors.

Omega began to draw the remaining energy from the reactor, when something cleaved through the air, slicing the tendril in two. Vincent’s phone rang, and he heard Cloud’s voice on the other end. “Sorry about the wait.”

“Everything’s clear over here!” Tifa added. 

“They’re all yours now, Vincent!” He heard Barret yell.

Another reactor exploded; Vincent recognized Cid’s handiwork. His phone beeped as the pilot was added to the group call. “All in a day’s work.”

In the background of Cid’s call, he heard Reeve order the WRO to “Fire.” Another reactor exploded, depriving Omega of more energy. He heard Yuffie cheer.

“And just in time,” Reeve sighed.

He caught another quiet voice beneath the cheering. “When did I start caring so much about what happened?” Shelke raised her voice, speaking directly to Vincent through the phone. “The rest is up to you.”

Vincent smiled, his phone to his ear as he hovered over Omega. “Guess I have no choice. It’s time… to save the world.”

Vincent’s friends all cheered in unison, and Vincent flipped his phone shut. He raced forward and burst through Omega’s shield.

Chapter Text

The sea inside Omega’s head stretched across the horizon to infinity, reflecting the sky above so clearly it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. A strange being was cocooned beneath the water’s surface; the top of the pulsating mass appeared to be a bas relief in the shape of a man. It rose from the sea, hovering in the air above Vincent while putting out long tentacles tipped with crystal feelers. 

Defeating the proxy feelers caused the cocoon to undulate, energy bursting from within. Weiss appeared, dressed from the waist down in an ornate set of armor. He dragged twin blades across the floor, that solidified from water to a translucent glass. 

Vincent didn’t hesitate. He fired Death Penalty, and the blow knocked Weiss clean off his feet… Except Weiss had already thrust his blades into Vincent’s chest… But Vincent had aimed his gun at the back of Weiss’s head. 

Time and space held no meaning in a place like this. The two men fought regardless, the absurdity of their environment doing nothing to quell their fury. Vincent managed to gain the upper hand in the fight, but just as he was about to fire the killing shot, the cocoon burst open. 

A mechanical effigy of Omega descended from the sky. It fired four glowing feelers from its limbs, which affixed themselves to Weiss’s arms and shoulders before reeling him into the sky. In any other world, Omega Weiss would have the clear advantage. But in this place, on the edge of creation, Vincent was able to turn the tide of the fight to his favor. 

The effigy released Weiss as it plunged into the sea below.

Reeve watched in awe as Omega’s body crystallized, freezing its legs, then its torso, then its multitude of wings. A cloud of mako released from its nostrils like a sigh, and the crystal hardened to stone. Jolts of blue energy shot up the Weapon’s form, gathering in its wings. They exploded, erupting into four pure-white wings that stretched across the entire diameter of the city. 

“Omega’s ascending! But that would mean…!”

As Omega rose into the sky, a flash of red shot after it. It quickly overtook the Weapon, launching into space before turning and racing back towards the Planet. Vincent… The red streak collided with Omega in an explosion that rivaled that of Meteor’s. 

When the dust settled, there was not a single cloud in the sky. The vast expanse of space stretched from horizon to horizon. 

Vincent was gone.

Vincent…

It has been almost a week since that day. The Lifestream has returned to the planet and has begun to flow normally once again. And I have started to fill the ten-year hole in my life... or at least started to try. 

I’ve learned so much in the past weeks. Now that I realize I’m not alone, I think I may be a little stronger than I was before.

Shelke sat at the table closest to the window. She stopped typing for a moment, gathering her thoughts. Her gaze wandered to Tifa, who was cleaning a table on the other side of the bar.

The bell over the entrance jangled as Yuffie burst into 7th Heaven. “Have you heard from Cloud?”

Tifa shook her head. “He hasn’t found anything.” 

“Ain’t going to make this easy for us, is he?” Yuffie groaned. 

Shelke returned her gaze to the window. She stared up at the sky for a long moment, then returned to writing her message.

Vincent. Do you remember the last words we exchanged? Do you remember our promise? Your promise to Lucrecia? Go. Tell her how you feel. Tell her what is truly in your heart. I know that you probably will never see this but I have to try… I have to believe. 

Shelke took a deep breath and clicked “Send”. She placed her phone on the table and wandered outside. 

She sat beside a large feline with red fur and a tattoo of the number XIII on his leg. His name was Nanaki, and he proved to be a stalwart companion. He yawned as she sat beside him, glancing over at her curiously. She said nothing to him, so he remained silent. 

I’ve learned I must never give up hope. Never…

“Lucrecia.”

It was the first time in years that Vincent had visited her in person. Lucrecia slumbered in the crystal, her hands clasped in front of her heart.

“Everything’s alright now. Omega and Chaos have returned to the planet.”

Vincent was suddenly overcome by a strange feeling, like this would be the last he’d see Lucrecia. It was a sad sort of feeling, but to Vincent’s surprise, it gave him a strange sort of comfort. Closure, he realized. He rose to his feet. “Thank you. It was you. You were the reason I survived.”

He turned and left the cave. And for the first time, an apology didn’t echo from the crystal. 

It was a beautiful day; the sun was shining, large fluffy clouds floated lazily through the blue sky, and waterfalls cascaded around the grotto, creating a multitude of rainbows.

Vincent spotted a young girl with short red hair staring at him. It took him a moment to recognize her; Shelke was no longer dressed in a Deepground uniform, instead clothed in shades of pinks and browns. 

“Everyone’s waiting, Vincent Valentine.” She sighed in mock indignance. “I don’t know why they made me come up here and get you.” She giggled and turned back to him. “Not that I mind, though.”

Vincent smiled back, then turned his gaze skyward. In the midst of the clouds, he could see the faded shards of Omega, glistening in front of the moon.

The moon shone down upon the depths of Midgar. 

Weiss’s body lay atop a small mound of dirt in the center of a shallow pool. Energy surged from his body like a conduit, snaking up the stalagmites and racing across the cave. The energy converged on a floating sphere of water, and the man suspended inside opened his eyes.

The sphere exploded in a burst of boiling water, and Genesis landed on the rock ledge below. He stepped coolly across the pools, his leather boots skimming the surface of the water. He crouched down and picked up Weiss’s body, then turned his gaze upwards. The moonlight reflected off his mako-infused eyes—the mark of a SOLDIER.

“It is not yet time for slumber. We still have much work to do… My brother.”

A black wing erupted from Genesis’s left shoulder. Weiss in his arm, he leapt into the air and flew away, dropping black feathers in his wake.

THE END