[ Broadcast Mind - 007 ]
On your way to Dismas.
You see faces, countless faces, but none of them belong to the one you're looking for. You don't know his face apart from theirs, of course, but you know he isn't among them. Somehow you know.
It's been a long day. A long week. A long month.
You think since coming here everything has gotten harder...including you. It wasn't meant to be this way. Second chances were meant to be...
What?
A chance was a chance was a chance, wasn't it?
You should count yourself lucky. Some didn't get the opportunity to begin again from a clean slate. Then again, this slate wasn't all that clean to begin with.
Ducking down a side street, the shadows wrap around you as you stop and lean yourself up against a wall. The cool, damp air in the city fills your lungs. Your eyes close.
And that's when it hits you.
"I can't believe he's gone. After everything, just like that...gone."
"Don't buy into it, Luxiere. Those reports are technical knots, you know? This company's always hated loose ends."
Remember all the Angeal sightings after he'd been reported K.I.A.? And what about Genesis?
You say that, but you have your doubts, too. You won't admit it, but they're there, corrosive feelings that have started wearing you down, weighing you down, each an anchor in your stomach. The worst of it is, there's not a damn thing you can do about it even if the rumors are true.
The cement catches you. Shiva, it hurts your ass. You vaguely wonder when you fell, or what caused it, but you don't have time to ponder. There are folks headed your way and...
"Ow!" What in the... "You just stepped on my foot!" But they keep on moving, almost like they can't see you at all.
Shrug it off, you tell yourself. Get up. You're not here to start a fight with civilians, anyway.
You're on your feet again in no time, and although you feel a little disoriented, you're fine. At least, you think you are, but four steps back into the main street and you're stumbling again, unable to catch yourself, knees buckling.
They strike the ground hard, and you cry out, but nobody wandering by seems to notice.
You barely notice before it hits you again, that memory wave, like Ifrit's fist to your face.
"Hey. Aerith, right?" You're in a church. It might be a little run down, but for being in the Slums, this place manages to be a sight for sore eyes. The sun is shining through the windows. There is a girl with long brown hair kneeling in a flower patch that's rising up through the rotting floor boards. "My name's-"
"-I know who you are, silly." Turning to look over her shoulder, Aerith smiles at you. Now you know why he likes her so much. It's not the sun's rays that fill the church with warmth, but the light in her expression. There's something else there, too...but you can't quite put your finger on it.
Curious, you tilt your head, and it causes her to laugh.
"Has he come back yet?" she asks, standing up and tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear. "The wagon wheel is broken, and I'd really like him to come fix it."
Off to the side you see the wagon, lopsided and full to the brim with colorful flowers.
"Well, if it's that bad, do you want me to help-"
"Nope! He's the one I want to do it," Aerith says with a chirp, rocking on her feet. "If you see him, you'll tell him for me, right? He has to come back and fix the wagon."
Unable to argue, you nod and promise her that you'll tell-
...can't breathe!
Killed in action.
The blue interface of your phone taunts you. You wish to high heaven you could toss the device away and undo the turn of events, but it won't change anything.
You won't be seeing him again.
Oh, man...what are you going to tell Aerith?
Air!
It rushes in, fills your lungs, and...water strikes your face. Kicked up by a passer-by's boot, in fact.
They don't say sorry. They don't stop. You might as well not be there. What in Shiva's name is going on here...?
You scrub your hand over your forehead, across your cheeks, and brush the water away. The moment you shake the dampness off your hand, however, you catch another someone in the shin, causing the person to stumble. They hit the ground next to you and look startled.
"Oh, sorry!" The words are out before you can stop them, and the young man blinks at you, his mouth gaping.
"I...I didn't see you there! At all... You're one of them, aren't ya? Bloody Scorched and your weird powers!" Scrambling to his feet, he's sure to kick dirt your way before shuffling off as fast as his two legs can carry him. The thing is, you're more confused than he is about what's happening. You know you're not particularly remarkable by appearance, but the lack of a certain helmet shouldn't make you all but invisible to the people around you, either!
Did it maybe have to do with the cells inside you?
There was nothing left inside, her body an empty cavity sprawled upon the chaise, legs spread and seemingly inviting. Her lips were painted rouge, but not with cosmetics.
You knew her...she had been the first one you'd had the pleasure of being entertained by in Dismas. She'd been full of life that day, rosy cheeks and warm brown eyes. All silk, satin, and lace, supple curves and soft caresses, lips that tickled your neck in a way that made you sigh and yearn for home. She'd have done well, there...at the Honeybee Inn.
Wasn't doing well anywhere, now, however.
Her cheeks were clammy and pale, her eyes like muddy pools of well water. The silk, satin, and lace was ripped and torn, stained all shades of crimson, blood and gore coagulating down her front. Her body was poised rigidly, an odd angle to her neck. Lips were bruised, split open, and parted in what you can only assume was a silent scream or a gasp, maybe a plea for mercy...
She had smelled of rose hips and lavender that first day. You can't tell her apart from all the other rotting bodies in the room now. The stench of decay causes your stomach to rock, and before you can help yourself, it empties twice on the floor at your feet.
I'll kill whoever did this...
On your way to your feet again you stagger backward, but your foot slams down behind you and you catch yourself, brace yourself, keep from falling down.
Eyes open, close, and reopen. The memories aren't stabbing at your brain anymore, and there are people looking your way, probably wondering (at last) what the heck you're standing in the middle of the street for, and why you're wandering about like a halfwit.
So many people taken away from you, so many lives lost or stolen away...but now you remember your purpose. It's all that matters.
Finding him is all that matters.