(no subject)
(Sorry, those of you who either hate FFVII or hate my writing, but I just saw Advent Children, so there will be more of these.)
As the first chapter of this story begins, it is apparent that it is also the final chapter. A train rocketing north through Midgar signals the end; unfinished business begins a process of finishing. The train races toward North Gate Station, beneath the shadow of a Mako Reactor with a bold white 01 painted across its face. Sparks fly from its tracks as metal grates against metal, and the squeal of steel-on-steel screams into the night.
He isn't anxious, but his heart is beating fast, anticipating the rush of adrenaline, the feeling of a coming battle, the grip of the sword's hilt clenched firmly between his fingers. This isn't just like any other mission, though he won't tell you that- it is his first in a long, long, time; and for a second instance in his life, it is because of her that he feels the battle-haze falling on him stronger than ever. He felt like this once before, one night five years ago, on a truck en-route to ("Yo!") Nibelheim. It was storming that night-
"Yo! Newcomer, you with us?"
Cloud's eyes rose in the darkness, twin orbs of blue feverish with green fire, responding to what he recognized less as words and more as unnecessary chatter. Below him, the only other noise in the car was the continuous cla-clack of the train's wheels setting into the rails every few feet. The man speaking to him was a hulking shadow in the far left corner; a huge black man with rippling muscles; a beard that looked more like worrier's stubble; and fierce but tired eyes. To the right, a roly-poly, squat looking fellow was hunched down and playing with some kind of fancy sniper's carbine. Between these two and Cloud, boxes were set on either side of the car, and on the left wall near the middle, they were deliberately stacked high. On the first level of crates, a musclehead was sitting with one leg swinging and the other bent inward while he worked at his boot-laces. Above him, a slight-framed, somewhat pale girl was working on the overhead hatch.
"Glad I got your attention. As I was sayin', we go in and get out. What we don't do is shoot unless we have to. That goes double for you, newcomer- if you gotta haul out that giant steak-knife none of us is gonna get out of here without a shit-heap of trouble so keep the reins on it unless you have to."
"Got it," Cloud said with a noncommittal, half-there tone to his voice.
"You better, or it's your spikey-ass," he said, rising to his feet. "Don't need no ex-SOLDIER screw-up messin' up my plans."
Cloud shrugged. "Okay."
"I'm heading to the next car up. Don't do anything stupid, none of ya."
"Us, stupid?" The big guy up on the crate grinned at the leader. The big black man's face dissolved into even more of scowl than before.
"If stupid is as stupid does, than stupid is the one thing you do better then anyone else!" The big man said, before turning away. The door at one end shuddered open and a rush of hard wind passed through the boxcar. The door went shut hard. Once again there was silence, save for the repetitive sound of the passing tracks that could be felt as well as heard.
The musclehead shifted on the crate until he was facing Cloud. He tightened the red headband across his forehead with a well-practiced double-fisted tug to the knot at the back of his head. "You used to be in SOLDIER, huh? Not every day you find one in a group like Avalanche."
"Soldier?" The girl above turned away from the hatch to look down at them. Her legs were dangling just to the left of the tough-guy's head, and as she re-adjusted, she nearly swung them into his face. "I thought they were the enemy?"
"Easy, Jessie," the musclehead said, turning away from her legs. Whether he was replying to her question or reacting to nearly being kicked was unclear. He went on to answer, anyway. "He was in SOLDIER, but he quit them, and now he's with us. Ain't that right, uh," he turned to Cloud. "I didn't catch your name."
"Cloud," the spikey-haired soldier replied. His hands were clad in heavy brown gloves with thick, knobby metal bracelets for cuffs, and they were wrapped around one of his knees, while the other leg was laying straight out. Beside him, propped against the wall, was the largest sword any of them had ever seen. Silently, the three of them doubted he could carry it, much less wield it.
The big guy made to respond, "Cloud, eh? I'm-"
"I don't care what your names are," Cloud interrupted, "once this job is over, I'm gone."
As the first chapter of this story begins, it is apparent that it is also the final chapter. A train rocketing north through Midgar signals the end; unfinished business begins a process of finishing. The train races toward North Gate Station, beneath the shadow of a Mako Reactor with a bold white 01 painted across its face. Sparks fly from its tracks as metal grates against metal, and the squeal of steel-on-steel screams into the night.
He isn't anxious, but his heart is beating fast, anticipating the rush of adrenaline, the feeling of a coming battle, the grip of the sword's hilt clenched firmly between his fingers. This isn't just like any other mission, though he won't tell you that- it is his first in a long, long, time; and for a second instance in his life, it is because of her that he feels the battle-haze falling on him stronger than ever. He felt like this once before, one night five years ago, on a truck en-route to ("Yo!") Nibelheim. It was storming that night-
"Yo! Newcomer, you with us?"
Cloud's eyes rose in the darkness, twin orbs of blue feverish with green fire, responding to what he recognized less as words and more as unnecessary chatter. Below him, the only other noise in the car was the continuous cla-clack of the train's wheels setting into the rails every few feet. The man speaking to him was a hulking shadow in the far left corner; a huge black man with rippling muscles; a beard that looked more like worrier's stubble; and fierce but tired eyes. To the right, a roly-poly, squat looking fellow was hunched down and playing with some kind of fancy sniper's carbine. Between these two and Cloud, boxes were set on either side of the car, and on the left wall near the middle, they were deliberately stacked high. On the first level of crates, a musclehead was sitting with one leg swinging and the other bent inward while he worked at his boot-laces. Above him, a slight-framed, somewhat pale girl was working on the overhead hatch.
"Glad I got your attention. As I was sayin', we go in and get out. What we don't do is shoot unless we have to. That goes double for you, newcomer- if you gotta haul out that giant steak-knife none of us is gonna get out of here without a shit-heap of trouble so keep the reins on it unless you have to."
"Got it," Cloud said with a noncommittal, half-there tone to his voice.
"You better, or it's your spikey-ass," he said, rising to his feet. "Don't need no ex-SOLDIER screw-up messin' up my plans."
Cloud shrugged. "Okay."
"I'm heading to the next car up. Don't do anything stupid, none of ya."
"Us, stupid?" The big guy up on the crate grinned at the leader. The big black man's face dissolved into even more of scowl than before.
"If stupid is as stupid does, than stupid is the one thing you do better then anyone else!" The big man said, before turning away. The door at one end shuddered open and a rush of hard wind passed through the boxcar. The door went shut hard. Once again there was silence, save for the repetitive sound of the passing tracks that could be felt as well as heard.
The musclehead shifted on the crate until he was facing Cloud. He tightened the red headband across his forehead with a well-practiced double-fisted tug to the knot at the back of his head. "You used to be in SOLDIER, huh? Not every day you find one in a group like Avalanche."
"Soldier?" The girl above turned away from the hatch to look down at them. Her legs were dangling just to the left of the tough-guy's head, and as she re-adjusted, she nearly swung them into his face. "I thought they were the enemy?"
"Easy, Jessie," the musclehead said, turning away from her legs. Whether he was replying to her question or reacting to nearly being kicked was unclear. He went on to answer, anyway. "He was in SOLDIER, but he quit them, and now he's with us. Ain't that right, uh," he turned to Cloud. "I didn't catch your name."
"Cloud," the spikey-haired soldier replied. His hands were clad in heavy brown gloves with thick, knobby metal bracelets for cuffs, and they were wrapped around one of his knees, while the other leg was laying straight out. Beside him, propped against the wall, was the largest sword any of them had ever seen. Silently, the three of them doubted he could carry it, much less wield it.
The big guy made to respond, "Cloud, eh? I'm-"
"I don't care what your names are," Cloud interrupted, "once this job is over, I'm gone."